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Trevor rakes his fingers through his damp mullet roughly, untidily adjusting the shorter layers around his forehead. This is one of the many reasons that showering bothers him. Sometimes his stupid fucking hair annoys the shit out of him. But it’s a small price to pay. Michael makes it worth it.
They’re sharing a bed. They have been for the past week. It’s not their first time doing so, but it’s the longest consecutive amount of time that they’ve slept under the same blankets. Their last job had ended poorly, meaning funds were low. So, not only were they sharing a room, they were sharing a bed. Trevor fucking loves it. He loves sharing a bed with Michael so much that he doesn’t even mind showering regularly to make it more comfortable for the older man.
It's actually kind of nice, in a way. He’ll wash his skin and hair with unscented soap, dress in clothes clean from the latest trip to the laundromat, and he’ll get into bed with Michael. He’ll go to bed smelling of nothing and wake up with the scent of Michael’s cologne and sweat coating his skin. Which means that for the rest of the day, he can sniff the collar of the shirt he wore or the inside of his wrist where Michael fell asleep and smell his scent whenever he wants to.
He's in love with Michael. Actual love, L-O-V-E, the kind of love that makes his tummy flip and heart flutter and cheeks turn pink. Michael loves him too, but not in the same way. But it’s somehow okay because the way Michael loves him still feels good.
Michael checks if he’s eaten that day, and always picks him up something at whatever store he goes to, a candy bar or a soda. He gives Trevor his coat if he’s really cold because despite being Canadian, he’s still scrawny and the North Yankton snow seeps into his bones and makes them hurt. At night, when Trevor wakes up, choking out wet sobs or pathetic childish cries of “no,” or “stop it,” Michael will get out of his own bed or roll over in their shared one and hold him, shushing him and telling him it’s all okay until he falls back asleep. Michael loves him by making sure Trevor’s voice is heard when they’re planning a heist, because sometimes Lester doesn’t trust his judgement and will talk over him. Michael will agree with him and challenge him and the two of them will come up with something and Trevor will glow when Michael praises him for thinking up a new way to break a lock or take out a security guard.
Trevor can see Michael’s love in every interaction they have. So, Trevor fights down the urge to kiss him every day because any kind of love from Michael is better than none at all. He’ll quiet down his thumping heart and control his stuttering voice and hold back the I love you because nothing is worth risking the thousand quiet ways Michael loves him.
Trevor tugs his sweatpants up over his hips, tightening the drawstring. They’re clean because Michael is the one who taught him how to use the washer and dryer and visiting the laundromat at late hours is so much more fun than he ever thought it would be. While they wait for their clothes, Michael will tell him ideas he has, plot lines for movies he wishes he could make. The waistband of his pants still hang low under his sweater.
Okay, he’s lying. Michael’s sweater. He wore it to bed last night, so it smells exactly like him. He didn’t do it on purpose, they had both left their clothes in the same pile when they had dressed that morning. But he’s fine with it. Michael won’t mind. Trevor thinks that Michael likes seeing him in his clothes because he’ll catch Michael looking at him and shaking his head slightly before smiling, like he thinks Trevor looks funny underneath Michael’s too big sweaters or shirts or socks.
There’s the sound of the motel room door unlocking which means that Michael is back, so Trevor tugs the cord to turn out the light at the same time as he goes to turns the doorknob. He freezes when he hears the voice of a women giggling followed by Michael’s deeper voice.
He lets go of the doorknob and sinks quietly to his knees, looking through a hole where a lock used to be. If he rests on his knees like this, he can see their bed, which is exactly what this mystery woman is standing beside.
It turns his stomach. Michael must think he’s out, off getting drunk or high with someone else, maybe Brad or Lester. But when they’re sharing a bed, Trevor tries to behave himself because he wants to remember every minute of sleeping next to Michael. He grits his teeth at the thought of Michael and their shared nest smelling like whatever cheap perfume the woman is wearing instead of Michael’s cologne.
“Well?” the girl says, smirking at Michael, who’s sitting on the bed, his profile clear to Trevor, backlit by the moonlight streaming through the open curtains, thighs parted and staring up at the woman with clever, bright eyes.
“Come here,” Michael smiles back, beckoning her closer. She crawls into his lap, straddling him, and he’s kissing her. It hurts Trevor’s heart, a real deep pain, but there’s something else there too. Some twisted, voyeuristic curiosity.
She’s pretty. From what he can see, anyway. She’s not wearing much. A cropped, button down blouse. Short skirt. She has a pierced navel. Her face is mostly obscured by long, dark hair, cut in choppy layers, and when she tilts her head back to allow Michael to kiss her neck, Trevor can see a strong nose and full lips painted with gloss.
Trevor watches Michael’s hands on her ass, squeezing it over her skirt. He’s kissing her neck still, and Trevor can hear her breathing. But he can’t quite look away from Michael’s hands yet. He’s felt those hands on him a lot over the past two years. They’re strong and warm, and they’ve grabbed his own to pull him back from the road to avoid a car, thrown snowballs at him, stroked his back to soothe him after a bad dream.
Right now, they’re on the sexy stranger’s ass, tugging up her skirt until Trevor can make out lace panties. She has long nails, and they’re digging into Michael’s shoulders. One of Michael’s hands moves out of view, and there’s a silence for a moment before the woman’s heavy breathing stutters. Her hips are suddenly moving, and Michael’s available hand is aiding them.
Trevor watches the girl ride Michael’s fingers and listens to her moaning. It sounds intense. She’s gasping, little sexy shrill noises falling out of those painted lips, edges smudged by Michael’s mouth. Michael’s other hand comes up to her shirt and unbuttons it, letting it fall open to expose her breasts, nipples taut in the cool air of the room.
“F-fuck, curl them forward, fuck,” she groans, and Michael must follow her instruction because she moans louder, head tilting farther back, long hair almost hiding where Michael’s hand is back on her firm ass.
Michael is still kissing her neck, and when he moves to kiss the other side Trevor sees his face, watches his eyes look up to her jaw, small smirk on his lips before he’s back to kissing her neck, mouth opening to bite down on the skin, just hard enough to make her moan again. Trevor freezes as Michael’s eyes seem to flicker across the room for just a second, barely flashing toward the bathroom door Trevor is hiding against before the moment passes.
Michael kisses down her neck, over her chest, before he’s taking one of her nipples into her mouth, sucking on it for a second before pulling back slightly so that Trevor can see it held gently between his teeth. He kisses back up, all the way up to her jaw before his perfect mouth that Trevor has watched tell stories or jokes or sing scratchy lullabies in the night finds her neck again.
She’s moving still, up and down, fucking herself on Michael’s thick fingers, and he wishes he knew how many were inside her because maybe later he could try and replicate it as well as he can. But it’ll be nothing compared to Michael’s touch. Trevor stares at her through the small hole as she starts rolling her hips forward, small, staggered movements, probably grinding her clitoris against Michael’s palm as she feels his fingers working inside her.
She comes, head rolling forward this time, Michael moving up from her neck to catch her mouth in a kiss, swallowing the noises of her orgasm. She moans almost helplessly, as if just the feeling of Michael’s fingers is too much already, curvy hips moving weakly.
“Good girl,” Michael praises, looking at her with a smile, hand moving away from her ass to brush back her hair. She lets out a giggle, and Trevor can see her face better now that her hair is out of the way. She really is pretty. Beautiful, in fact.
Trevor is interrupted by the familiar sound of Michael’s belt unbuckling, but he’s swatting away her hands.
“Oh, no,” he says, grinning at her before he kisses her again, hot and messy, “I ain’t done with you yet.”
She laughs at that, a light, pretty sound, even her voice is fucking beautiful, and Michael stands up with her still in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. Michael has picked Trevor up a handful of times now. Once to carry him back to the car when he fell out of a tree and broke his leg, (in his defence, he had only done it to prove to Michael that the tree was too fragile to use as a shooter’s nest. He had been right,) and another time when he had fallen asleep in the car. Michael had scooped him up and carried him to bed, Trevor only barely awake, face buried in the crook of Michael’s neck.
He's spinning her around, dropping her on the bed. She props herself up on her elbows to look at him, thighs open. Trevor can see right up her skirt. Her panties are pulled to the side, and he can see her sex, framed by dark hair.
“What are you waiting for?” she says coyly, looking up at him, all flirtatious, batting false eyelashes. Michael shakes his head slightly, smiling at her, before he’s on his knees, leaning forward to grab her hips, sliding her towards him until her feet rest on the edge of the mattress, her crotch right there in his face.
He takes off her panties slowly, sliding them down her thighs over her stockings, her long legs stretching out to help him, staring at her as he does so. Trevor can’t think of anything sexier in the world than looking down at Michael’s face as he takes off his underwear while Trevor watches.
He tosses her panties to the side, and begins kissing her thigh, slow and teasing, making her whimper, her flirty demeanour gone. Trevor watches her bright eyes roll back into her head as Michael’s face disappears between her thighs.
She drops back on to the bed, her face hidden by blankets, feet still resting on the edge of the bed as Michael’s tongue laps over her. They’re so close Trevor can hear him; hear his soft breathing and the wet noises his tongue makes as he tastes her.
Almost without even thinking, Trevor slips a hand under his sweatpants. He’s so hard it almost hurts. He squeezes his cock gently, biting his lip to hold back a moan. Her legs open farther, and that makes the view even better. Trevor can see Michael’s face, half of it, anyway, thick eyelashes splayed across the top of his cheeks as he closes his eyes. He pulls his head away, turning his face to kiss her thigh again, making her let out a short groan of disappointment that quickly turns back into one of pleasure as Michael brings his hand up, fingers circling her clitoris before they slide down to her entrance.
Trevor holds back a noise as he watches Michael slip two fingers inside her with ease, and that makes her hands clutch at the blanket desperately. She lets out a loud cry of pleasure when Michael brings his mouth back down, simultaneously fingering her and using his tongue on her. Trevor can see the muscles in Michael’s arm and shoulder working under his shirt, which is almost sexier than watching the girl writhing on the bed.
He removes his hand and tugs down his sweatpants, just enough to let his cock spring out, quickly wrapping his hand back around it. He rubs his thumb over the tip, which is wet with precum. There’s probably a damp patch on his underwear from it. He bites his lip hard as he begins to stroke himself, trying to time it with the pace of Michael’s arm.
She’s moaning louder, hips moving up and down, grinding herself on Michael’s tongue and fingers, and Trevor can see the muscles in her thighs tensing. He wishes he could taste her, especially after Michael’s tongue has been on her. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying hard not to let out a noise at the thought of licking Michael’s come as it drips out of her down her thigh. He’ll take anything if it means getting closer to Michael.
Sex is complicated for Trevor. It hasn’t happened much. Over exposure to it when he was far too young had turned him off it. In fact, until Michael, he had tried hard not to think of it, mostly associating the act with shame and embarrassment.
Michael, on the other hand, had no trouble getting girls. He’s handsome, charming and well spoken. But Trevor hasn’t actually seen him with a girl before, not like this. He’s caught him kissing a woman before and that had turned him on so much he’d had to get himself off in the bar bathroom before meeting Michael back at the car.
He’s still trying to match the pace of his hand with Michael’s when she cries out, back arching off the bed. Michael brings his other hand up, pressing it on the flat of her stomach just above her pubic bone, holding her down as she arches upwards again, crying out louder, hands flying down to Michael’s hair to hold him in place as she grinds against his face furiously, each wave of her orgasm announced by her beautiful voice.
She sinks back into the bed, breathing hard, but Michael doesn’t stop even though Trevor can see her thighs twitching from the aftershocks. He seems to be more gentle this time, and soon her quiet panting turns into whimpers of pleasure again.
Trevor clamps his hand over his mouth, holding back his own noises. Michael’s moving slower this time, sliding his fingers in and out of her carefully, and Trevor is still trying to copy his pace, moving his own hand up and down his cock, desperately trying to hold back because he wants to come at the same time as Michael. He’s trying to keep his grip mostly loose because the sight of Michael going down on a girl is more arousing than he ever thought it would be.
He's done it himself a few times, and he likes it, loves the way it tastes and loves the satisfaction of making a girl come because he gets there too fast if they have sex. But he prefers sucking cock, loves the feeling of it sliding in and out of his mouth as he looks up at his partner. He wonders if Michael has ever done it before, and that makes his breath hitch in his throat, and he has to freeze for a second because the thought of Michael with a dick in his mouth is almost enough to make him come.
She’s moaning louder again, hips beginning to move up and down weakly. Trevor watches Michael add a third finger, watches his face in between her thighs, eyes opening every now and again to look up at her stomach and tits as she writhes on the bed. Her third orgasm hits her hard so hard she’s completely silent, arching off the bed with her mouth open in an unheard scream. Michael coaxes her through it, tongue lapping her gently and fingers deep inside her.
She relaxes again, laughing this time, a sleepy, throaty sound, and she reaches a hand down to grab Michael’s hair, pulling his head up. He makes a noise that sounds almost disappointed, gently sliding his fingers out of her to grip her thigh, leaving the skin damp.
“C’mon, handsome, your turn,” she smiles, dragging him up until he’s kissing her. Trevor wonders what it must be like to taste himself on Michael’s tongue and he has to remove his hand from his cock entirely because again, the thought of Michael touching him at all is too much to cope with.
They kiss for a few moments, her thighs wrapping around Michael’s waist, and she’s reaching a hand down, and Trevor holds his breath because the very idea of watching Michael have sex, watching his beautiful face contort in pleasure and his naked muscles move as he thrusts inside her is far hotter than anything he’s ever thought of.
She reaches a hand down between them, and Trevor stares, hears Michael’s breath catch in his throat before he’s pulling away.
“I’m sorry,” he tells her, rolling off of her, sitting beside her on the bed. She props herself up and although he can only see the back of her head now, he imagines her looking at him in confusion.
“I got a big day tomorrow, baby,” he says, sounding almost regretful, “you should go.”
Trevor frowns. He’s lying. They’re not doing anything tomorrow. Michael even rented a few movies just so they have something to do for the day.
“Believe me, you won’t take long, I’m good,” she says, and Trevor can hear the desire in her voice. Michael smiles, his most perfect, charming, almost bashful smile. He’s standing, brushing back his hair that Trevor hasn’t helped him shave in a good few months now.
“I don’t doubt you, sweetheart,” he grins, and Trevor tries to hold back a groan of disappointment. He’s so fucking close, and anything in his imagination is going to be a let-down compared to what he was just witnessing.
“Wow,” the girl laughs, sounding disappointed. She stands, legs unsteady, buttoning her shirt with trembling fingers. She walks over, close to the bathroom door, making Trevor’s eyes widen and panic begin to rise in his chest. But she simply grabs her panties from the floor, tucking them into her pocket instead of putting them back on.
She looks at Michael one more time, and Trevor imagines she’s probably hoping he’ll reconsider, but he doesn’t. He tells her a gentle goodbye as she lets herself out. She doesn’t say anything back.
Trevor closes his eyes and tries not to sigh in disappointment. He’s still so turned on, cock hard in his hand, precum dripping over his fingers. He counts to three, trying to figure out how the hell he can turn this around so that Michael doesn’t call him a pervert and punch him in the face. Maybe he can escape through the bathroom window and come in the door. Maybe he’ll catch Michael getting himself off.
He opens his eyes again, looking out of the hole, frowning when he realises all he can see is black. He peers through the gap, wondering if Michael maybe closed the curtains, when the door swings open, barely giving him enough time to fall backwards and land on his ass to avoid it hitting him in the face.
Fuck.
When he looks up, Michael is leaning against the doorframe, staring down at him with one eyebrow raised. Trevor feels himself turn scarlet. He’s very, very aware of the fact that his pants are still around his thighs, and that his hard cock is pointing straight up, pink at the tip and glossy with precum. Which would be fine if he were still shrouded in shadows, but Trevor watches as Michael’s arm moves practically in slow motion to turn on the light, making him blink at the sudden brightness.
“You gonna come out now?” Michael asks him, voice low, and Trevor swears there’s humour in there, “you’ve been in here for a while.” Michael crosses his arms, eyes travelling from Trevor’s own widened ones to his dick, making him want to cover up.
“I…sorry,” he stutters, hands still on the cold ground underneath him, supporting his weight, knees pressed tight together, pulled up as much as he can to cover himself. Michael raises his eyebrows as he peers down at Trevor, looking straight at his poorly hidden cock.
“You were touching yourself?” he asks, voice still that odd, almost stern tone with that thread of humour, almost fucking merriment, in it. Trevor hesitates before he nods shamefully.
“You were looking at her?”
Trevor lowers his eyes, “both of you,” he says quietly.
There’s a silence. He dares to look up. Michael is still staring at him, face strangely stony but his lips are curved at the corners in a smirk.
“You didn’t come?”
Trevor feels his cheeks flame, “no,” he says, and his pathetic cock, still desperate for attention, throbs in protest.
“Why not?”
“I was waiting on-” shut up. He stops talking, chewing his bottom lip. Michael is still watching him with that odd look, like he’s finding the whole thing rather entertaining. His hair is still messy from her hands.
“On what?” Michael prompts.
“On you…on you fucking her,” Trevor admits, and something about that makes Michael laugh. He’s still watching Trevor, who’s surprised that Michael hasn’t hit him yet. Or called him creepy.
“Oh, really?” he says, sounding bemused, “interesting,” he hums, looking up to the harsh ceiling light almost in consideration, “you know, I was havin’ so much fun making her come while you watched that I almost came in my pants. You must be close.”
Trevor stares. His voice is teasing now, and there’s a definite smile on his face, just small, and his arms are still crossed. Trevor dares to let his eyes travel farther down his body and he feels a sharp bolt of arousal when he sees just how hard Michael is under his jeans.
“Yeah,” Trevor manages, dragging his eyes away from Michael’s cock, staring up at him again.
“Come here,” Michael instructs, and Trevor sits up obediently, settling onto his knees in front of Michael. It seems like a good idea to stay down here, because he still can’t predict exactly what Michael is going to do.
Trevor stares up at Michael from his position on the floor, conscious of how Michael’s erection is right there under his jeans, just at the same height as his face.
“Touch yourself.”
Trevor stutters for a second, “w-what?”
Michael’s suddenly smiling, not that strange smirk but a real smile, the sweet one Trevor loves so much. He brings a hand down to brush away some of Trevor’s hair from his forehead.
“You think I didn’t know? Come on, T. Why d’ya think I was showin’ off? I kinda liked you watching me,” Michael grins, and Trevor tries to stammer out an answer, but words are failing him.
“So, come on,” Michael says, voice much lower, face back to that soft smirk, “you watched me. It’s my turn. Get yourself off.”
“…here?” Trevor manages.
“Right here, on your knees.”
Trevor whines at that, because the firm tone in his voice is just doing something to him, making him want to do exactly as Michael says. He takes his cock in his hand, grateful that Michael lets go of his hair just enough for Trevor’s head to fall forward into his thigh.
He begins to jerk himself off, still gentle, because he isn’t quite sure if this is real, and it might be over when he comes. He might wake up to a damp patch in his boxers and Michael on the other side of the bed and come to the crushing realisation that it had all been a dream.
“Does that feel good?” Michael asks, voice softer now, and Trevor whimpers into his thigh, nodding as best he can. He was already close when Michael had interrupted him, it’s not going to take much now. Especially when he dares to move his face, kissing over the bulge in Michael’s jeans, inhaling the way he smells and feeling how hard he is under the rough fabric.
He’s so fucking close. The whole situation shouldn’t be as hot as it is. He shouldn’t be fighting back a scream of pleasure as he jerks himself off with Michael’s hand in his hair, holding his head to his crotch, letting Trevor press his face against it and kiss it and groan against clothed cock. But it is. He has one hand clutching tightly to Michael’s thigh, and that’s just about the only thing keeping him upright. His hips are moving helplessly, thrusting his weeping cock in and out of his hand, staggered, high pitched moans falling out of his mouth into Michael’s groin.
“Michael-!” Trevor cries shrilly, trying to let him know because Michael has been telling him what to do and he feels like he needs him to keep going, he needs Michael to tell him exactly what he should do next because he’s going to come, and he can feel his toes curling and it’s getting harder to breathe normally.
“You can come, baby” Michael says gently, and that’s all it takes, he’s spilling over his hand, getting it all over himself and the floor and even on Michael’s leg, but it feels too good to be worried about that right now. He cries out his orgasm into Michael’s lap, his fingers tightening painfully into Michael’s thigh, panting into the hard outline of Michael’s cock as he comes down.
“There we go,” Michael whispers, petting Trevor’s hair softly as he gasps for breath. His fingers tighten in Trevor’s hair again, just slightly, just enough for Michael to pull his useless, floppy head back so he can look at his face. He’s staring down at Trevor with a look of strange affection, but there’s arousal there too.
“You gonna let me come all over your pretty face?” Michael asks, and Trevor lets out an incredibly undignified noise that was supposed to be “yes,” but it comes out more as an unintelligible squeak. Thankfully, Michael seems to understand, because he takes his hand away from Trevor’s hair and unzips his jeans, pulling out the dick that Trevor has fantasised about for the last two years.
It’s thick and long, uncut and perfect, and the very sight of it makes his mouth water. He’s staring at it, and he wants nothing more than to get his lips around it. But Michael’s hand is back in his hair, holding his head back, forcing Trevor to watch as he starts jacking off, quiet grunts of pleasure coming from his perfect mouth.
Trevor can’t help but stare and thank any kind of higher being that’s listening because Michael like this is beautiful, his piercing blue eyes are fluttering shut like he’s struggling to cope with the intensity of getting himself off over Trevor’s face and his lips keep parting as he moans.
Michael must be just as turned on as Trevor because it isn’t long until his grip in Trevor’s hair tightens even further and he lets out a choked noise that almost sounds like Trevor’s name, and Trevor feels more than sees the first hot splash of come over his face. He lets his mouth open, feels Michael coming over him, feels and tastes it falling into his mouth as he watches Michael gasp, finally coming to a stop and relaxing his fingers in Trevor’s mullet.
Trevor takes advantage of that and dives forward, firmly placing both hands on Michael’s shaking thighs, taking as much of Michael’s still twitching cock into his mouth as he can, lapping up the remaining drops of come. That makes Michael whimper, a sweet noise almost as pathetic as the noises he himself had made moments ago. He sucks around him, tasting him, closing his eyes, savouring how he feels.
Michael pulls him back gently, looking down at Trevor, whose lips are damp from sucking around him, face decorated with his come.
This is the moment where Trevor should wake up. But he doesn’t. He remains on his knees, on the cold floor, gazing up at Michael, who’s staring back at him with the same kind of adoration and affection Trevor normally directs to him.
“You look fuckin’ beautiful like that,” he says, and his voice sounds tired and slightly awestruck. Trevor feels himself grin stupidly, cheeks flushing at the praise. Michael straightens up, groaning quietly, stepping around him and walking to the shower that started the whole damn thing in the first place.
“Come here, you. You ain’t getting into bed with that shit all over your face,” Michael says over the noise of the running water, looking over at Trevor with a smile. Trevor wordlessly uses his thumb to scoop off a streak of come over his face and wraps his lips around it, tasting Michael again. That makes Michael suck in a shocked breath.
“Get in the shower,” he says finally, and Trevor can see his previously softening cock beginning to stand to attention again. He stands, legs tired and achy, and joins Michael, who’s staring at the hem of his jeans, frowning. Trevor finds the come stain he left there both slightly embarrassing and incredibly arousing. Michael twists his leg to see how far up it goes before he looks at Trevor, smirk back on his face.
“We’re gonna need a hell of a lot more quarters if we keep this up.”