Something sweet, for Allison.
"I thought—" Chuck mumbled against Michael's mouth. "—you didn't like sex."
Michael settled on top of him with a soft laugh, kissing across his face. He breathed against Chuck's cheek, and seemed lost in thought for a few drawn out seconds. Finally, "I never said that." He pressed his lips against Chuck's again. "I said, 'sex doesn't appeal to me most of the time.' That's slightly different than 'I don't like sex.'" He let his hand trail down Chuck's jaw, and neck, and side, and slipped his fingers under the edge of Chuck's shirt. More chaste kisses, like a shower of petals all over Chuck's face—over his eyelids and his cheekbones and his jawline and his forehead and his ears and throat and mouth. And Michael's hand slid up his side, under the ribbed white fabric of his wifebeater.
He squirmed. "That tickles." But he grinned and draped his arms in a loose loop around Michael's neck. Situated himself more comfortably where he lay, parting his legs so that they framed Michael's hips nicely, and his smile softened. "Are you sure?"
It was a vague, oddly timed question, but Michael understood. "I'm not forcing myself to do anything, Charles." He buried his face in Chuck's neck, with the slightest of half-formed grins, and Chuck snorted.
"Don't call me 'Charles' in bed!"
"Okay, okay." Michael raised his head. "Chuck."
Their eyes met, and Chuck rolled his, but he grinned wider again and let Michael kiss it away into a tiny little beam.
Both of Michael's hands found their way up Chuck's shirt, and tugged it off over his head—he nearly got tangled in it for a moment but then it slipped away and Michael laid it carefully on the nightstand. He sat up on his heels and peeled his own t-shirt off, and despite the many times Chuck had seen Michael clothes-less he still felt like he ought to look away and maybe say a prayer or two thanking God for that Neo-Classical body.
He sat up quickly, before Michael had the chance to lean back down, and he kissed the dark little mole on the left side of Michael's ribcage. Then he pulled Michael down so they lay flush against each other. Michael's skin was warm against his own, and he loved that. And he loved the way Michael's breath felt against his throat, and how heavy he was, and how he tried to take off his pants without moving away—obviously that didn't work out very well and Michael heaved out a world-weary sigh before moving away again so he could kick his jeans off.
Chuck laughed. "You're too cute."
"You need new glasses." Michael settled between Chuck's legs and tugged his boxers free, and managed to get them off without much trouble. Those, too, he set carefully down. Always so proper and neat and organized.
"My eyes are perfectly fine!" Chuck held his arms out for Michael, and Michael shook his head in amusement and kissed Chuck's palms. He did as Chuck clearly wished, and lay on top of him again, so that Chuck could wrap his arms around his back and gently bump their foreheads together.
Michael watched Chuck, curious.
Chuck wrapped his legs around Michael's waist and asked, "So what's the plan?" His fingers brushed in lazy little circles over Michael's shoulder blades. "What do you wanna do?" He shifted to be more comfortable, stilling and relaxing against the sheets.
Michael's gray eyes found his and they held a sweet, warm tone from the dim sunlight leaking in through the curtains. "Just this, really." He braced his arms against the pillows and ducked his head and nipped Chuck's lower lip—carefully, gently. Rolled his hips in a smooth, fluid motion so that Chuck drew in a sharp breath through his nose.
He smiled. Chuck pinched his back. And then said, "Do that again."
"Do what again? Biting? Grinding?"
"Both, both!" Chuck patted Michael's shoulder restlessly, tightening his legs around his waist. "I don't want to grow old by the time I have an orgasm! I'm impatient." He glared, half-heartedly—then gasped, when Michael did as he asked, with his teeth fastened just under his jaw.
Michael kissed the little red spot he'd bitten, and moved lower. Set to stroking his hand up and down Chuck's side, all soft and gentle, while he moved his body slow enough to be more than a little frustrating and left a trail of marks across Chuck's throat.
Breathing somewhat unsteadily, Chuck shut his eyes. Just to focus on the feel if Michael's skin against his. His fingers flattened against Michael's shoulder blades and his heels dug in against Michael's lower back, and he made a tiny noise in the back of his throat. Michael caught his mouth in a deep kiss—deep because it lasted for what seemed to be forever and it was hot and loving, though relatively innocent. Slight movement, heady pressure, no tongues or teeth involved. Just a lot of warmth.
His hand stilled against Chuck's ribcage, and the rest of him stilled as well, and his palm felt like a brand on Chuck's skin. Chuck whined.
"So sensitive." Michael kissed the corner of Chuck's mouth. Only his thumb moved, in little circles against one of Chuck's ribs.
Chuck scowled at him. "Stop talking and do something."
"Pushy, pushy."
"Please?"
Michael smiled, barely. He murmured, "Since you asked so nicely," and slipped his hand between their bodies, and what he did with that hand made Chuck keen and breathe out a curse. So he did it again.
"God—I mean—" Chuck buried his face in Michael's shoulder and clung to him. "Fuck."
"Shhh..." Michael's free hand went to the back of Chuck's head, and he cradled him close as he stroked them both. He himself was silent and composed, though he breathed a little more heavily than usual, whereas Chuck squirmed and grasped at Michael and made countless soft noises like he couldn't hold them in. Probably really couldn't, actually. Not that Michael wanted him to. He liked the way his name sounded when Chuck gasped it out between muffled little moans.
Michael ignored the tingling in his feet and focused on Chuck, who was very obviously at the edge of his personal cliff—curling toes and clutching fingers and perpetually open mouth as he panted and whimpered.
"Noisy, noisy..." Michael breathed the words in Chuck's ear, and Chuck shivered beneath him. Michael shifted and moved so his arms bracketed Chuck's head, and looked down at his flushed face. So desperate. He kissed Chuck's stubbly cheek, sliding their hips together once more, and watched the way Chuck's eyebrows knit together. The way he pulled in a loud breath through his open mouth.
Chuck raised his hands to Michael's jaw—flattened his palms across Michael's face and pulled him down to push their lips together, clumsily. His mouth was wet and hot and Michael kissed it with all of his concentration and love. Though he didn't stop paying attention to the rest of his body, it became a little secondary, and he focused on Chuck's breathless kisses and needy vocalizations.
He bit down on Chuck's mouth as he rocked his hips, and that was it. That sent Chuck toppling. A punched out gasp and cry, and Michael's name shaky on his tongue as he scratched tiny red lines into the other man's skin. Michael paid no attention to whether he followed, or not—he didn't really care. He assumed so but his attention was consumed by the soft, heavy-lidded, sleepy gaze Chuck settled on him.
He kissed him again, close-mouthed and pressing his palms flat and hot against the sides of Chuck's face.
For a little while, they just lay there, messy and drooping and satisfied. Chuck's limbs fell loosely to the sheets and he mumbled, "We'll fall asleep and wake up glued together if you don't do something about this." A vague gesture to their torsos.
Michael sighed. He didn't want to move, but he also didn't like being dirty, so he hauled himself to his feet and retrieved a cloth. Ran it under hot water and used to, gently, to wipe them both down. His own skin and a few spots on the sheets. But mostly Chuck. He trailed kisses after the damp path of the washcloth. Eventually, just laid out kisses all over Chuck, across his skin like constellations.
The cloth fell to the side and would probably leave a wet spot on the bedding but he didn't really care.
Chuck pulled him up and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He kicked the wet cloth off of the bed—evidently, he cared about the inevitable wet patch and would rather it be on the carpet than his bed. "Let's sleep." He mouthed at Michael's jaw. Michael smiled and lay down beside Chuck, encircling him with strong arms, tugging him close. Their legs tangled together and Chuck melted against Michael's chest.
They slept quietly in the muted afternoon sunlight.