Feather

Twelve

"So, I got a call from my mother the other day." Peyton told Michael, handing him a freshly brewed cup of coffee, and resting her elbows on the counter opposite him. He hummed with a nod, as he took a small sip, "yeah, she has like, this annual Christmas party thing. It's coming up soon, and naturally she would tell me so I'll show my face, and we can play the happy family in front of my parents friends."

"You make it sound like your parents are those kind of rich people that live in the gated neighbourhood on the other side of the city," Michael laughed but stopped abruptly as Peyton looked down, picking at her nails, "no..."

"Surprise." She shrugged with a nervous laugh.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head slowly as he got up, and left the kitchen. She sighed, putting her head in her hands. Peyton didn't expect that reaction at all. She knew that people 'outside the gates' didn't like them, saying they were snobs, thought too highly of themselves, and looked down on those that had less than them.

That wasn't the case though. Of course there were some people who thought like that, there would always be those who are ignorant, doesn't matter how much money they have. Money doesn't buy class. Unfortunately, Peyton's parents were some of those people, which is why she left home in the first place.

Well, she didn't really leave, she was let go by her parents, with the promise of her participation in family events, and any family photos, including the Christmas card. There was no way they could give a Christmas card without her on, that would mean that they were broken, and her parents couldn't have that at all. Also, by promising that, they let Peyton keep access to her money.

She didn't need a job, or to live in a tiny flat but she left because she didn't want that life, it didn't make her happy. She moved from job to job, until she found the one she enjoyed, which just happened to be where she found Michael too. Her home was small but it was hers, it was her hard earned money that paid for what she had, and she loved that.

Peyton sighed again, trying to take a deep breath, staring forward at nothing, and her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She knew this would be something difficult to admit but for Michael to just walk away from her, she wasn't prepared for. She had been able to hide who her parents were for a good few years, she never realised she would ever need to tell anyone but the thing is, Michael isn't just anyone, and to her, he never will be.

She quickly wiped away at the tears forming in her eyes, taking a deep breath, and going to find him. The flat was eerily quiet as she walked through, finally stopping at the bedroom door, seeing him sitting on the edge of the bed. She lent against the door frame, not really knowing what to say, and slowly he looked up at her, "I used to be bullied by people like you." He said.

"No, Michael, not like me," Peyton walked over to him, kneeling down between his legs, her hands resting on his thighs, "I'm not like them. Why do you think I never talk about my parents? I don't want people to think I'm like that. You know I'm not," he looked everywhere but at her, "Michael please. You know I'm not like that."

"How do I know?" He asked, looking down at his hands, "how do I know I'm not just some experiment for you? How do I know that you're not just bored of all the rich guys, and thought you'd just slum it for a bit with the poor like some gap year?"

"Is that really what you think of me, after everything that's happened with us?... Look at me for fuck's sake," she grabbed him by his tshirt, making him look at her, "do you really think I'd do that to you?"

Michael looked into her eyes, seeing the tears begin to pool in them, so close to falling, and he knew that she couldn't. He hoped that she wouldn't. He shook his head slightly, "no," it came out as a small whisper, "no, I don't think you'd do that to me."

Peyton pulled him close by the back of his neck, kissing him deeply. His hands wrapping around her waist, holding her tightly. Slowly, they undressed each other, keeping their underwear on, and moving onto the bed. Michael breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled at the waistband of his boxers, "take them off." She said softly into his ear, before taking off her bra, and laying down on her stomach.

Michael was in shock for a second. They'd never done stuff without their underwear on, and he noticed how she'd kept on hers. He took them off slowly, watching as she lay with her head resting on her arms, looking away from him. She didn't even react as he slowly moved her legs apart, just going with it, and he gently laid himself over her, his hard on pressed tightly against her bum, and staying completely still.

Peyton took his hands, entwining their fingers, and bringing their arms back underneath her, and Michael sighed as he held her closer, "I'm sorry," he kissed her shoulder sweetly, "I shouldn't have said that to you."

"No, you shouldn't have," she slowly began to grind on him, making him moan lightly, "I would never do that to you."

"I know," He thrust between her cheeks, in time with her movements, "I know you're nothing like those people."

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back as he kissed her neck, sucking slightly, and she moaned, gripping his hands tighter, "come with me to the party, baby." Peyton whined quietly, her hips rocking up against him.

Michael groaned, speeding up his thrusts, "anything," he breathed next to her ear, "I'd do anything for you."

Peyton let go of his hand, reaching to his bedside table draw, and grabbing his lube. She stopped moving, which made him stop, "let's try something new."

He nodded as she closed her legs tightly, and he straddled her, keeping himself up on his free hand. She poured some of the liquid onto her own hand, reaching back, and rubbing it on him. He moaned, resting his head on her back. Peyton had never touched him like that before. She positioned him at the top of her thighs, close enough so he could rub along her too.

Michael understood, and slowly began to thrust between her legs. It felt good, and tight, her muscles tense around him. He moaned again, pushing down faster, and Peyton let out little noises as he rubbed against her. Their left hands were still holding on to each other, his arm wrapped around her, keeping her back to his chest. The more skin they felt, the better.

She moved her hips to meet the speed of his thrusts, biting his arm to muffle a loud moan. He groaned at how beautiful she was under him, he used his knees to keep steady and push harder, the noise of slapping skin becoming louder, harsher. He used his free hand to pull back her hair, he wanted to see her face.

She turned her head, quickly capturing his lips in a rough kiss, her hand going into his hair, and tugging at it. Michael could tell she was close as she arched her back, her thighs shaking, and he felt the warmth build in his stomach also. He started pounding between her thighs, chasing the high. Their kiss was nonexistent, just their hot breaths mixing into each other's mouths.

Peyton moaned loudly, pushing herself up on her hand that still held his, her back arching perfectly as she came, her legs tightening around him. Michael thrust a few more times before he came between her thighs, biting at her shoulder. They both lay spent, waiting to get their breaths back then he reached down to grab his tshirt, gently cleaning up the mess on her legs. She turned over so he could do the front, before cleaning himself.

"Do you have a suit?" Peyton asked as she took off her underwear, and got under the covers.

"No," he told her, wiping down the bed slightly with a grimace, "I need to wash these tomorrow." He threw the shirt on the floor, getting in next to her.

"You're going to need one for the party," she told him while snuggling into his chest, and wrapping her arm around him, "I'll get you one. Think of it as a gift for having to go to the ridiculous thing in the first place."

He ran his right hand through her hair, his left arm acting as a pillow for her head, she looked up at him, and he smiled, kissing her sweetly, "okay, we can do that." And that's how they fell asleep. Foreheads pressed together as his hand cupped her cheek, and her left hand lazily drew letters on his back. If only Michael had known that those letters were spelling out 'I love you'.