Jack Daniels || Michael Clifford ||

9

“So much for keeping this just friends.” He tells me between kisses, tugging my shirt over my head.

“Shut up and kiss me now.” I mutter, pulling him closer to me.

“Don’t be so damn whiny.” He mumbles, trailing kisses down my jaw.

I turn my head and press my lips against his again. I unbutton his pants and he kicks them off, causing me to fall over with a laugh.

“Fuck, sorry.” He mutters, hovering over me slightly.

“Oh shut up.” I say with a smile as I press my lips against his. He moans quietly and I run my hands over his bare chest.

“Take your pants off.” He tells me with a laugh.

“I can’t take you seriously.” I tell him with a giggle.

“Do you want me to take them off?” He asks, smiling into the kiss.

“Mhmm.” I mumble against his lips, running my fingers through his hair.

“Fine.” He grumbles. I laugh against his lips and pull away, kissing the crook of his neck. “Fuck.” He whines, unbuttoning my pants. I arch my back and kick my pants off, sending them flying across the room. Michael puts his hand on the back of my thigh and lifts my leg up. I wrap it around his waist and he connects our lips again.

“Michael?” I ask, quietly.

“Yeah?” He asks, nibbling on the skin by my collar bone.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For doing this.” I tell him, my eyes screwed shut as he runs his tongue over the hickey he’s given me.

“What do you mean?” He asks, his lips brushing against my neck, sending chills up my back.

“Getting involved with you.” I say, quietly. “This is gonna end badly, I can promise you that.”

“Oh fuck that. I never wanted easy.” He tells me, pressing our lips together again.

“Michael.” I say, pulling away.

“What?” He asks gently, his eyes looking straight into mine with sympathy.

“I’ve done bad things.”

“I don’t care.” He says, firmly.

“You should.” I tell him. “I’m a bad person and I’ve done bad things and I don’t want make you a bad person because you’re so wonderful and-”

“Azlyn, we’re half naked in my bathroom. It can’t get any worse than this.” He tells me with a flustered laugh.

“Michael, I’m sorry.” I tell him, my eyes brimming with tears.

“Don’t cry.” He says with a sigh, getting off of me. He leans his back against the wall and I take a seat next to him, bringing my legs to my chest. “It’s okay.” He tells me quietly, wrapping his arms around my shoulder. I rest my head on his chest and sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” I repeat.

“Stop apologizing.” He tells me.

“I’m sorry.” I tell him, wiping my eyes and looking around the room. “Where’s my shirt?” I ask.

“I don’t even fucking know.” He says with a sigh. “Take mine.” He says, reaching over and giving it to me. I shrug it on and curl up into a ball again.

“I’m sorry.” I repeat.

“Azlyn, stop-”

“I can’t, Michael. I can’t stop saying sorry because this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you take me to lunch. This is gonna end so badly and you’re going to hate me and I don’t want you to hate me because you’re wonderful and I’m a mess and-”