Feather

Eighteen

The room was quiet, the only noise being heard was that of clinking cutlery, and the movement coming from the kitchen next door. Peyton took a sip of her water, looking to one side, and then the other of the long table she sat at, wondering if her parents actually talk anymore. She glanced at her plate, not really feeling hungry but eating small bites slowly as to not be rude to Rosa, who had worked hard making such a delicious meal.

She played with the hem of Michael's oversized blue flannel shirt she had borrowed, a small frown on her face, and wishing that she was at home with him, instead of at her parents house for her usual birthday dinner. She knew they only did it because they felt like they had to, she was their only daughter after all, but Peyton would rather be anywhere but sat at this table at the moment, anywhere as long as it was with Michael.

Peyton had asked him to go with her but he didn't feel comfortable with it, so she didn't push the situation. The plan was for her to stay the night at the house, like she always has done. She and Michael had plans to celebrate her birthday properly on the weekend anyway, so they decided that it wouldn't matter if he didn't go. Oh, how they were wrong.

"Daddy?" She sat up straight, placing her cutlery down across her plate.

"Yes, Peyton?" He looked up at her from his dinner.

"May I go home, please?" She asked quietly.

"Why would you want to go home? You always stay with us on your birthday." Her father's face showing confusion.

"I know, and I'm very grateful..."

"As you should be." Her mother interrupted.

"Victoria," Peyton's father sighed, glaring at his wife, who quickly went back to eating her food, and saying nothing more, "tell me, why is it that you want to go home?"

"I miss my boyfriend." Peyton told him honestly, hiding a small smile when hearing her mother choke slightly.

"I didn't know you had someone," she nodded, "how come he didn't come tonight? Do I know him? His family?"

"Well, I do. We live together now but he didn't want to come tonight. He's kind of shy, and doesn't feel comfortable here," She said, looking down at her lap, "He's not from money."

"Oh," her father paused for a moment, "so... you're living together?" Peyton nodded, "how long have you been with him?"

"Almost a year."

"And you're happy?"

"Extremely." She smiled, looking at him.

Her father nodded slowly, "okay, you may be excused."

"Really?" She asked happily, getting up, and going to her father, hugging him tightly.

"Gregory?" Her mother looked up once again at her husband.

"No, Victoria, if Peyton wants to go home to this...?"

"Michael." She told him.

"This Michael, he obviously makes her so happy that she can't be away from him for one night, so she can go, and we can see her another time," he smiled up at Peyton, "maybe meet the man that makes our daughter smile like this?"

"Thank you, daddy." She gave him a kiss on each cheek, and a hug. When she went to walk away he whispered for her to say goodbye to her mother, she did so, going over to her, and giving her two kisses also as her father called his driver to take her home.

When Peyton finally got home, it was just coming up to ten, and the house was dark, apart from a dim light coming from the hallway. It was odd because Michael never goes to bed this early. She quickly took off her red Dr. Martens boots, and made her way silently towards the room, hoping to not disturb him, if he was in fact asleep.

When she got to the bedroom, he was definitely not asleep, his eyes were closed but that's not all. Michael's lips were parted, letting out quiet moans as his hand moved slowly inside his boxers, while he lay on his back with his legs apart. Peyton slowed her breathing, leaning against the doorframe, watching him. Her breaths started to become shallow as her hand subconsciously began to move across her body.

Michael opened his eyes as he looked down at himself, about to take off his boxers but then stopped in his tracks when he saw her at the door. He noticed how flushed her face was as she quickly looked at the floor, "I thought you were staying with your parents?" He spoke quietly.

Peyton shook her head, looking into his eyes. She could feel how hot her body had become, and thought maybe... just maybe, "can I watch you?" She asked timidly.

Michael sat up slowly, nodding, and moved himself back so he was against the headboard, motioning to the bed. Peyton stepped closer, taking off her jeans as she watched him remove his boxers. She unbuttoned her shirt halfway, and removed her bra before kneeling on the end if the bed, resting herself against the wall. Michael waited for her, then reach down to himself as she licked her lips nervously.

He moved his hand slowly, watching her intently as her eyes glanced over his body, then stopped as they set upon his movements. Her right hand came up towards her neck as she lightly touched her own skin. Michael noticed how she had her fingertips teasingly running up and down, and slowly working their way to her collarbone.

The thought of her touching herself because of him made him groan quietly, and he began to pick up the pace, rubbing his thumb gently over the tip, imagining it was hers. Peyton brought her free hand to her mouth, biting down on her fingers to control the moan she felt almost escape. She wanted to stay silent as to not disturb him as his eyes closed, his head resting back on the wall.

Her breaths became short and shallow. She never thought watching someone touch themselves would affect her as much as it did. Her whole body was trembling, she felt hot, and all she wanted to do was make some kind of noise, so she moaned softly, grabbing harshly at her breast. Michael opened his eyes when hearing it, the flush from his chest rising to his cheeks from seeing how she was beginning to lose herself in the moment.

He watched as she unbuttoned the rest of her shirt, which was originally his but he thinks maybe he'll allow her to keep it because it looks so good on her, his gaze following her hand as she slowly slid it into her underwear, and his eyes widened as her hand moved tentatively, and she let out a sweet moan.

He tightened his grip, glad of the small amount of lube he had used as he began to go faster, groaning as he twisted his hand. He could feel how close he was to his high, wanting to slow down and wait for her but it was beginning to get too much. Just as he was about to release, Peyton stopped moving, her body tensing as she bit her bottom lip, a small whimper escaping from her throat, her legs squeezing together, and he knew what had happened.

"Holy shit." He whispered before gasping as he closed his eyes tightly, and came over his stomach.

Michael was panting, a few seconds going by before he felt the bed move, and opened his eyes to see Peyton next to him. She went to reach over to get the box of tissues to clean him up but he grabbed her wrists, noticing which hand it was. He moved up slowly, and began to lick her fingers, tasting her on them, and he sighed happily, making her giggle.

Once he was done, she leaned in, and kissed him deeply. Their tongues moving together, and he brought his hands down to remove her underwear as she used one of hers to hold herself up, the other hand tightly gripping at his hair. He pulled away to wipe himself clean with the material before throwing it onto the floor, grabbing his boxers, and putting them back on.

He kissed her lips tenderly as they slowly lay down on the bed, and Peyton placed her leg between his, like always. She was the one to pull away now, resting her forehead against his, and running her thumb tenderly over his jaw. They really did love their quiet time. Michael slowly moved his arm under her head, to pull her in closer as the other wrapped around her waist, doing the same. She snuggled into his neck, taking in his scent that she loved so much, and slowly, like how they had fallen in love, they fell asleep.