The bar was relatively quiet for a Saturday night but that's what you, Michael and your friends liked about it. There was no queue to order drinks and you could hear each other speak. Michael was at the bar right now. His male friends were chatting in the corner booth and you and your girlfriends were in a deep conversation about all things sex.
"Twelve," one of your friends boasted and you just about spat your drink out.
"Twelve orgasms in a row?" You gasped.
"Yeah why? What's the most you've had."
You blushed. Your measly two didn't even come within range of comparing to twelve.
"Oh that bad huh? Michael better step it up."
If it wasn't embarrassing enough, your friend suddenly shut up completely and turned red.
"Hey Michael," she murmured, not looking him in the eye as he reached over from behind you and placed your drink down.
"Ladies," he acknowledged before walking over to his friends.
"Woo that was close," your mates giggled but you weren't so convinced.
Something in Michael's tone was off and you were pretty sure he had heard everything. The remainder of the night was awkward and uncomfortable and you caught Michael staring at you, curiously on more than one occasion. You were both too drunk to drive home so Michael hailed you a taxi. You climbed in beside him and expected him to take your hand like he normally did but nothing and you gulped when he gave the driver your address. Normally after a night out you would go to Michael's apartment to sleep. He really was upset.
Then, to your surprise he got out when the driver stopped at yours. You both made your way inside in silence and Michael excused himself to the bathroom.
You went to the kitchen and poured some water, trying to sober up a little. You say down on your sofa and sighed to yourself. You were going to have to bring this up. Michael clearly wasn't going to and it was hanging over you like a cloud waiting to burst. Come to think of it he was taking a long time in the bathroom. You took your glass back to the kitchen, calling on him as you went. There was no answer. You frowned, dumped your glass in the sink and went to the bathroom. The door was wide open and the light was off.
"Michael?!"
You heard a shuffling from the next room over. Your bedroom.
"Michael?"
You opened the door and gulped. Michael was sat in the seat beside your bed. The lights were dim and on your bedside cabinet was an array of toys you had collected over the years. Sex toys.
"Michael what are you?"
"Lie on the bed," he cut you off.
You swallowed but didn't move.
"Michael what-"
"Lie on the bed," he repeated.
You slowly slinked towards the bed and lay down on your stomach.
"On your back," he corrected you and you obliged, realising there was no point arguing.
"Michael we need to talk about-."
"About what your friends said?"
You nod, a lump rising in your throat.
"How many was it Y/F//N had? Twelve?"
You gulp.
"Guess I'll aim for fifteen then," he smirks and your jaw drops.
"Michael what-"
