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Too comfortable

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It's late, on Rainbow Lake. It's late and Michael has reached that level of tired and sleepy that makes you silly and dizzy, completely at ease with the world and yourself. Sure, the bottle of wine helped a little, but it still sits half-full on the table, right where Lizzy slammed it when she let herself in, half an hour earlier. 
Now Michael slowly shakes his wine around, eyes glassy and the lazy trace of laughter still hanging on his cheeks. He turns to Lizzy while she flicks through the channels: she's sprawled on his couch, her back leaning against the left armrest, slightly bent legs resting across his lap. Michael wasn't really aware of their weight until Lizzy fumbled around a bit, changing position, tucking one of her feet under his knee, a full-belly laugh lighting up her eyes as she settles on old reruns of Takeshi's castle. 
He lays his hands on her knee and calf, only vaguely conscious of the sounds around them, enjoying the heat radiating from under her clothes, magnified by the contact with his palms. When he hears her  asking if "anyone's home", he doesn't know how long he's been staring at nothing, he knows however that he's been mindlessly running his thumbs over her shin for a while now. She shakes him out of his momentary trance, then launches into some story about the south pole and poor indigenous labourers having sex with baby seals' corpses. Michael looks at her for another moment, pretending to ponder, and when he can't hold it back anymore, he bursts out laughing at her serious face, dragging her into what feels like an unstoppable fit of cackling and struggling to breathe. 
They eventually manage to settle down, Michael's head laid on the backrest, while Lizzy wipes at the tiny tears on the corner of her eyes
"I was serious though, I read it, like, in a book. It’s legit."
"I swear on those poor baby seals!"
"And, say, what incredibly intellectual piece of literary art was it, among the never-ending parade of masterpieces you've devoured? Please enlighten me, Lizzy."
"What, are you insinuating I'm not as fancy a reader as you? With your Hamlet and- and that Dylan Thomas guy?"
Michael just scoffs, lifting his hands up with his palms towards the tv. Lizzy wants to stay serious, but his smile has always been terribly contagious, not to mention the fact that she loves hearing him say her name, and one corner of her lips slips up without her consent. She stares at him for a bit, his cheeky grin lit up by artificial flicks of light, then turns towards the TV again, warm feeling creeping along her throat. She wonders if this boyish side of him shows with a lot of other people too. Lizzy’s never given their relationship too much thought, it came too natural to wonder about it, everything was just easy but she never really realized it. She could be weird and inappropriate and totally comfortable with a lot of other people, but Michael.. He is where words fail her. So she doesnt try to define what Michael makes her feel like.

“Lizzy would you stop staring at me please, I’m trying to enjoy these Asian fellows slamming their faces into wooden doors.”

When did her eyes moved back to him?

“So much for Hamlet, huh?”

“Well at least I don't spend my time reading about pirates making love to exotic sea creatures"

“And where do you get that from, now?”

“Weren’t we just talking about south pole’s pirates and dead seals?”

“Nah, they were just labor workers and were you even listening? Also wait a minute can you just drop your pirate obsession for one seco-“

The rest of the sentence comes out muffled by the heavy pillow Michael throws to her face, catching her by total surprise. Lizzy stares at him for a shocked second, then directly throws herself at him and they can hear the old springs in the couch creak under the weight shiftin under the two of them wrestling. They let themselves get carried away a bit, and an expression of pure horror shows on Lizzy’s face as she feels her back lose the support of the cushions, the one-moment vertigo of falling off making her yelp as she clutches Michael shoulders, dragging him down to the floor with her. Her back hits the wooden floor with a thud, and she groans when her co-star tumbles on top of her laughing and panting just a bit. When they both recover from the fall, they remember the fight and Lizzy tries to topple him over, but Michael’s faster and he has her wrists already pinned down by her head, grinning down at her in the perfect rendition of a 12 years old boy.

“I won.”

Lizzy gives an exasperated sigh, waiting for him to let his guard down. When his grip on her wrists slightly loosens, she tries to wriggle free, but, of course, he saw it coming.

“Nuh-uh. I won, you lost.”

This time, her scoff really means she’s defeated.

"..Oh eat me, Sheen.”

Lizzy doesn’t realize right away that this may have been an unhappy choice of words, given their current positions and the fact that they are definitely not a couple of twelve year olds, and yeah they have sure said weirder stuff around each other, hell, they have been way more naked and weird around each other, so why does this feel different?

Michael still hasn’t moved from where he landed, fingers circling Lizzy’s wrists that have now gone limp in his grip, pliant almost, one of his knees planted between her legs, the other by her left hip. Her words hit his eardrum in a weird way, resonating and unreal, but he reckons it’s his current mental state’s fault, and at the same time he knows perfectly well that it’s very dangerous to stay like this, after one of the two of you just said something like that, and do absolutely nothing to ease the tension, so he knows his immediate future actions are going to be very important.

Michael’s lazy victorious smile hasn’t faded, and Lizzy just tries to stay as still as she can while she waits for him to regain his composure and maybe set her free, or maybe he wants to kill her, or, who knows, maybe he’s just going to say “Aight!” and they’re gonna have wild passionate sex on the wooden floor of his trailer until the sun rises. Who knows. The thought rakes through her mind, startling her out of her numbness and catching her off guard like Michael’s pillow had, and all of a sudden she feels very, very aware of the warmth of Michael’s breath raining down on her, of the heat spreading from his palms to her wrists, of the knee he placed between hers. She watches his face, careful not to give herself away as they stare into each other’s eyes, Michael’s still gleaming with.. something that vaguely looks like mischief. A bulge grows in his right cheek as he pushes his tongue into it, before chewing on the corner of his lips for a second. His mouth curves into a reflective pout as he looks up frowning, as if pondering something really important.


When his gaze comes down on her again, he’s still smirking.

Michael leans down a couple of inches so his lips just brush against Lizzy’s as he whispers “Okay” against her skin. A chill runs down Lizzy’s back and she shifts a little under him, pressing a closed-lips kiss on his mouth and feeling it tilt up at the corners in a small smile. Michael nips at her bottom lip to get her to open up to him, tentatively plunging his tongue in and waiting for her to kiss back. She licks the side of his tongue and he lets go of one of her wrists, his hand coming down to cup her cheek, sliding around her neck to tilt her head up, allowing him more access. His hand keeps sliding down and he palms her breasts unhurriedly, running his thumb across the spot where one of her nipples stands up, making her moan into his mouth, her fingers combing back the loose curls on his forehead. He starts to move down, leaving a thin trail of bites and licks down her neck and his head feels completely empty, his brain filled with the salt and scent of her skin, warmth all around him and the sound his kisses stretching out in the silent trailer. His hands hold him up at the sides of Lizzy’s waist as he looks back up at her, flushed and short-breathed, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other one pulling her shirt up around her ribs. Michael dips down to trace her navel with the tip of his tongue, unbuttoning her jeans. He helps Lizzy out of them and they both start moving faster, Michael’s hands rough around the back of her calves as he places her closed legs over his shoulder, kneeling in front of her. When he pulls down her underwear, it feels like the atmosphere has gotten heavier, and the sound of their lungs filling and emptying over and over again is the only noise they can hear. Michael guides Lizzy’s legs back on the floor, and she spreads them so he’s kneeling in between, hands on her knees and eyes fixed on her heaving chest, not daring to look down at what he would like most, right now. He eventually casts his eyes down, exhaling and then swallowing before looking one last time at Lizzy: she can still see that familiar smile in his pupils.

Lizzy closes her eyes as soon as she gets a glimpse of her friend –of Michael- dipping his head down between her legs, so the first thing she feels, rather than sees, is the touch of Michael’s nose, the tip of his tongue and his chin lightly pressing down on her inner thigh, kissing and licking their way down to the point of her groin where legs meet hips, where he stops to move to the other thigh and do the same. She doesn’t know if it would be appropriate to shove her hands into his thick hair and just guide him where she wants him, too aroused to stand his teasing, but she guesses it wouldn’t really be polite to suffocate him right away, so she just tries not to buck her hips too much, feeling herself getting soaking wet as Michael’s closed lips press down on the spot where her clit is still hidden. She whines helplessly and slams her fist onto the floor, biting down on her lip and she feels Michael laugh against her heated skin, before the tip of his tongue finally traces the line of her sex, and he spreads her with two fingers before laying it flat against her open folds, slowly and deliberately licking upwards, stopping only to suck at the tiny, pulsing bundle of nerve endings. His two fingers tease her entrance, and Lizzy could not hold back anymore if her life depended on it: she tangles one hand in the hair on the top of Michael’s head, the other one clenching around a leg of the small table beside them. She can’t restrain the loud and involuntary moans that flow from her throat when Michael plunges his tongue deep inside of her, curling and twirling it, his thumb tapping quietly on her clit while his other hand rests flat on her stomach, a lazy attempt to hold her down as she squirms and wriggles against him. He starts alternating wide licks with the faint swirling of the tip of his tongue between her folds, and he sucks at her clit once in a while as he thrusts his fingers inside of her, feeling her soft walls starting to clench rhythmically, the sound of her moans going and higher and higher pitched to the point of gasping and chocking on her own breathe, and Michael knows she’s coming when he feels the muscle in her stomach flex and relax and clench again, fast and restless as the fingers that tug at his hair, holding him close as Lizzy tries not to drown in a large, deep puddle of white-hot pleasure.

He pulls away when he’s sure she’s tumbled down from her high, her knees falling wide open on the cold wooden floor, her chest rising and falling in deep breaths as she tries to get back into herself. With one last contented and almost pained sigh, Lizzy looks down at Michael with her mouth hanging open, amazed and stunned as he lays his head on her thigh and smiles up at her.

He crawls up on top of her and they lay side by side on the hard floor, making out slow and deep and languid until Lizzy’s hand snakes down between their bodies to cup Michael’s half hard cock through his pants. His breath hitches and he has to pull away to whisper a breathless “Fuck” against Lizzy’s lips, which curl up in a grin.

“So much for Hamlet, huh?”