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swear on it

Summary:

He'd go without forever if it means getting David to himself like this.

(Michael has some thoughts while he has David right where he wants him)

Notes:

text to sparklyslug: me frantically googling "how do i get over my fear of intimacy to start dating again because a movie musical is inspiring feelings of yearning that are slowly eclipsing prior reservations"

hello everyone, i have been indeed infected by the brainworms. what can i say, ali louis bourzghui and his beautiful baby deer eyes and biceps carved from marble have bewitched me mind, body, soul, and most importantly, dick. *smacks his back* you can fit SO much suffering into this bad boy

thank you so much to my dearest glory bee sparklyslug for being the sweetest and best and encouraging me to post! go read her fics in the fandom, and then go read all of her other stuff too. and also read the stuff we've written together, even if you're not in stranger things fandom. it's good, okay????

hope you enjoy. see you on the other side <3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Sure, there are things that Michael misses about being human. The sunset, and occasionally, the sunrise. Chinese takeout. The notion of aging alongside Sam, which stings more than he thought it would. Hot showers, definitely, though taking a bath is not so bad. But he can live without these things. He’d go without forever if it means getting David to himself like this.

It’s almost like taking the plunge unlocked a part of David that Michael might not have seen otherwise. He’s still all bravado, husky showman voice, deft hands and muscled arms, angelic face with a devilish grin. He’s still more than a little mean, demanding in all arenas, quick to a sour mood if things go awry. But he’s sweeter, too. More willing to be affectionate without an ask behind it, playful with the Boys, outright adoring Star as opposed to maintaining a distant fondness. His guard is down with Michael most of all, though. Allowing himself to want. To need. To ask for what he desires.

They’ve never taken this particular step in their dynamic, this strange tango they’ve found themselves in since locking eyes at a boardwalk concert. It feels as though they’ve done everything but, eager hands and hungry mouths and teeth in places he’d have shuddered at even three months ago. Time is strange now. What isn’t strange, despite everything, is this – David in his lap, split open on his cock, riding him so slowly that Michael feels like he’s the one being fucked. His glistening skin catches the low lights of their makeshift bedroom (and David does sleep in a bed usually, the sleeping like bats thing is just drama), bare of any jewelry. Writhing in Michael’s grip on his bony hips, it almost feels like David’s alive sometimes. That Michael could feel his warmth, if he thought hard enough.

Fuck, Michael,” David shudders, grinding down on his dick, his dark eyes rolling back in utmost pleasure. “Love your cock. Feels so good –”

 It wasn’t until they started having sex that Michael realized oh, David doesn’t swear that much. He knows they did back when David was alive; he’s told Michael sordid tales of debauchery from the turn of the century that make him blush to even think about, fucking and fighting and all manner of rotten work. Max did, apparently, before he made the “puritanical turnaround,” as David calls it, flick of the wrist and all. David stopped swearing except when it counted to spite him. When Max put on the good samaritan act, he kept the habit.

“Gets you out of tricky situations,” David had said, one night when Star teased him for it. “I look like a bad boy, but I can sure talk like a good one.”

Was there ever a time where David was good? Michael doesn’t know. For once, as he sucks on David’s gorgeous, waiting neck, he can’t bring himself to care.

Notes:

i am greenlikethesea if you wanna hang out on tumblr :)