Once Bitten, Twice Shy [Mashton]

Part Four

((This chapter is only one stanza becsuse I like to live life on the edge.

-Mel))

I didn't know you had a rock and roll record

Until I saw your picture on another guy's jacket

You told me I was the only one

But look at you now, it's dark and you're gone

Michael thinks they both realize it when they're in bed. Ashton hasn't slept in his bed once since he'd arrived.

Ashton's straddling Michael's waist and pressing soft kisses down his chest and stomach lazily. Michael's kind of in love with the entire moment, because neither of them are hard or desperate, and it's all about Ashton's soft lips against Michael's torso. Its warm and smells like sex, a remnant of the past two weeks. Ashton's hair is wild, a complete mess of honey colored curls on top of his head, practically golden in the early morning sunlight coming in through the windows and clear, balcony door.

Tight pink boxers are stretching over Ashton's thighs, and Michael's kind of in love with them.

He laces his fingers with Ashton's, squeezing their hands together tightly and smiling when Ashton looks up at him.

He feels like he's been punched in the stomach suddenly, all the air flying out of his lungs, because this incredible boy wants him, wants to kiss him, wants to sleep with him all the time. And its amazing to Michael, because he's always been perceived as "the ugly one" in his band. He's always gotten hate for being useless and annoying.

Luke's always been loved for his nose and eyes, his smile and wit. Calum's always been loved for his build and muscles, his sharp jawbone and mysterious, yet airy attitude. They've both been praised highly by the press and the fans, but Michael's just sort of there. He doesn't have any outstanding features or talents, Calum could easily replace him on the guitar if he ever decided to quit.

But here, with Ashton leaving careful little kisses everywhere his lips can reach, Michael suddenly feels like he belongs. He feels like this is his spot, anywhere with Ashton.

Michael's lips tilt up in a smile, while Ashton tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and looks down, blushing shyly.

"What?" He asks, looking up from under his eyelashes.

"Nothing," Michael's still smiling like a fucking idiot. "You're just really pretty."

He expects the usual "You're not bad yourself, stud," that he usually gets when complimenting Ashton, but instead the smaller boy ducks his head down, blushing furiously, and lays his cheek against Michael's lower ribs.

Michael smiles fondly and reaches down to tangle his fingers in Ashton's hair, rubbing through the light brown strands gently. "You like it when I call you pretty, huh?"

"No," Ashton mutters against Michael's skin, blowing hot breath across where his mouth is laying.

"Would you like it if I called you princess, too?" He whispers.

Ashton honest to god whimpers, just a quiet noise that's just over the sound of Michael's voice.

Michael's smile hurts his face now, cheeks and lips tight with the force of trying to contain it. "You do, don't you?"

"Mikey," Ashton says quietly, rolling his head so he can press a kiss to Michael's stomach again. He sets his chin up then, crawling up to rest it on Michael's chest. His face is still bright pink, probably warm to the touch, and his hair is wild and almost yellow in the early morning light. His pink lips are pulled in a smile, glistening from a combination of cherry gloss and Michael's spit, while his eyes are practically sparkling.