Feather

Two

'Then slowly, Michael reached out his right hand.'

He rested his hand on her left forearm, swallowing loudly. Her skin was warm in contrast to his cool touch. He didn't move his hand for a few seconds, fixated on how pale it looked against her tanned skin. Michael heard a shallow breath and looked up. Peyton's brown eyes were closed, her freshly dyed, dark red hair hung loosely over her shoulders and in that moment he realised just how beautiful she really was.

Ever so cautiously, he let his hand move over her skin, fingers spreading around her arm, coming down to her wrist, letting his fingertips trace over the tattoos she had decorating it. He watched as goosebumps rose on the skin as he caressed it, moving his hand up once again. He stopped at her elbow, and rubbed his thumb a little harder against it's crease.

A shaky breath filled Michael's ears, his eyes snapping up, Peyton had a pink blush on her cheeks. He noticed how her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Her lip held tightly between her teeth and a warm feeling began to fill Michael's stomach, not being able to control it as it made its way down and between his legs, "Peyton?" He breathed out, his hand stopping and he began to pull away.

"Don't stop," her voice was almost panicked Michael noted, "please," she opened her eyes and all they showed was want, "please don't stop."

"Peyton do you..." Michael was surprised that he could find his voice, "do you like being touched?" She closed her eyes again, nodding and she dropped her head down as if she was ashamed, "I lied before. I didn't just stop touching because of the hugging."

"Why did you?" Peyton looked up at him with hopeful eyes, hoping that he was going to say what she thought he was.

"When I was younger, it started with hugs," he spoke tenderly, to match the strokes of his hand on Peyton's arm that was moving subconsciously, "but as I got older, and started to feel things. You know what young guys can be like. The touching just became different. I love the feeling of skin on skin, no matter the situation, and as I grew up, my love for it grew too. It stopped being innocent for me, and that's when it became a problem. I'd be embarrassed by how I would get around people, so I just stopped."

"Are you embarrassed now?" Peyton asked, eyes looking at the bulge in his jeans, then back up at him.

"A little." Michael giggled, noticing that his hand was now under the sleeve of her tshirt, his fingertips lightly stroking her shoulder.

"I love being touched," Peyton tells him, "the attention and care it takes. I lose myself completely sometimes."

"Have you ever...?"

"Yeah," Peyton bites her lip, knowing exactly what Michael was asking, "and you?"

"Yeah." He replies, taking a deep breath.

"Can you do more?" She motions to his hand.

"If you want me to."

Peyton moved Michael's hand away and slowly pulled off her tshirt. She reached over to the hem of Michael's, being careful of his reaction, but when he nodded to say that it was okay, she moved onto her knees and pulled it off. Michael's arms coming up easily to let her remove the clothing that suddenly felt too hot for him.

As Peyton knelt over him, Michael took the opportunity to look at her. The curve of her waist, the shape of her breasts, the drop of her shoulders, and the way her skin contoured and moved every time she took a breath. This time, Michael wasn't so hesitant, raising both his hands and resting them on her stomach. He was surprised when that caused her to whimper quietly.

Peyton placed her hands on Michael's shoulders to steady herself as his roamed her torso. When he moved them to her back, spreading his fingers, she couldn't control the soft moan to escape her mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, her tongue coming out to lick her lips.

"Shit," Michael groans quietly, "you feel fucking amazing." He claws slowly at her back before grabbing at her sides and placing a soft kiss beneath her bellybutton.

"Fuck, Michael." She moans again, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Is this okay?" He asks, keeping his lips against her skin. Eyes closed.

"Yeah, but, can you lay me down?" She looks down at him, and he smiles before pushing her back onto the couch.

Michael knelt between Peyton's legs. He bit his lip seeing her laying there for him, waiting just for him to touch her. He let his hands roam over her. Pressing, pulling and tugging at the skin but staying gentle all the while. Peyton's moans got louder and he could tell how she was trying hard to control herself. It made the tightness in his jeans even more unbearable.

"Let go," he tells her as he presses his lips to her stomach, they're much more sensitive than his fingertips and he could feel the muscles tensing under her skin, "I want to see." He rests up on his elbow beside her and moves his hand down, slipping his fingers into her jeans and underwear, pressing down slightly on her lower stomach.

"Kiss me." Peyton says, looking up at him.

Michael doesn't need to be told again. He leans forward pressing his lips to hers, the heat they felt from each other spreading all the way down their bodies. Michael grabs Peyton's wrist with his free hand as she begins to tremble under his touch, pinning it above her head. They kiss harder, Peyton sighing loudly when Michael's tongue, hot and heavy, licked into her mouth.

Peyton placed a leg between his and slowly moved her thigh against him, smiling when he groaned against her lips. He began to grind down on her leg, moving faster as she shook even more. His hand still pushing down across her hips, changing the pressure once in a while. Peyton's breaths were short and shallow, and she was oh so close.

Michael noticed how tense she became and pulled away from the kiss to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, small breaths escaping her parted lips. Her free hand was gripping the couch cushion tightly. As he rubbed faster against her thigh, he moved his hand up and scrapped his blunt nails across her whole stomach, making her moan loudly, arching her back off the couch as she completely let go. The vision of her beneath him made Michael release in his jeans with a tight groan, before falling onto the couch next to her.

After about five minutes of nothing but the sound of their breathing, Peyton called out, but kept her tired eyes closed, "Michael?"

"Yeah?" He turns his head to face her, the movement making her look at him back.

"I really do love your hair." She gave a half smile, running her hand through it, and then slowly twisting the soft feather between her fingertips.

"Thanks," he giggles, "I'm so tired, but I need to clean up."

"Me too. Let's nap and then maybe we can have a shower afterwards?" She asks hopefully.

"I'd like that." He smiles, giving her a small, light kiss.

Peyton smiles and sighs contently, turning so her back is to Michael. Not even a minute later her voice filled the room again, "Michael?"

"Hmm?" He responds, his eyes already closed for sleep.

"Hold me?" Peyton's voice is quiet, but held an excitement that she couldn't contain from the anticipation.

Without a word Michael puts his arm around her waist, pulling her close so her back is pressed to his chest. It was comfortable and easy, and neither of them felt out of place against the other's skin. Michael sighed as he heard Peyton's almost inaudible, soft snores, gently lulling him to sleep as he smiled happily, and he is pretty sure that he's never felt so grateful for a simple feather as he did right at that very moment.