A/N: hey, it's been months. I do have to apologize for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to update this but I realized some things: I'm not having the previous desire to write like I used to. There's no inspiration, really. Not even season 3 gave me the kick I was hoping for (btw, what a fucking season we got, huh?). I'm really sorry for that. I think I lost interest but I keep pushing myself because I don't want to leave you guys hanging like this. I'm still an active FF reader and I'd hate to be in you guys' place, hoping for an update for months and the author just leaving the story like that. I won't do that to you. Yes, I have trouble writing. I don't have the time, and I lack the inspiration. Also, I had to literally sit myself down and think on the direction I want this story to go. As most of you know by now, the movie this story is inspired on is about a relationship that ends bad, bad, bad. In times like these it's what one would call a toxic relationship. And I don't want that for Mileven. I love my Mileven, but I know a lot of you won't like the way this goes on if I stick to the OG. So I decided to tweak the storyline even more. So, keep in mind that that will take even more time.

Once again, I'm sorry for being a shitty writer and keeping you guys hanging.

That being said, this chapter has what a lot of you have been asking for: SMUT. I wrote it more in detail than the previous one so read at your own risk. For those of you that don't want your virgin eyes to read that, read until things start getting steamy and then scroll down to the skip points.

WARNING: Smut, smut, explicit smut lies ahead. Language and other sex-stuff talks.

Thanks and happy reading. Please review!

He is on his third mouthful of cereal when the doorbell rings.

He furrows his eyebrows, Papa barking in the background, chewing slowly until the little colorful loops have turned into mush on his tongue. There's a second ring, and this time it's accompanied by a knock. He puts his phone down on the table, licking milk from his lips as he makes his way to the door.

"Who is it?" Mike questions as he pads across the apartment. He is only in his pajamas, curls messy in their perpetual bed-hair state.

"Me." A soft voice answers him back and it's familiar enough to actually pause his steps. His eyebrows climb up his forehead, and he has to peek into the peephole to make sure it's really her.

As soon as he opens the door, he finds himself blindsided. He just woke up fifteen minutes ago, his body still slow with lingering sleep, they haven't spoken in four days, and she's standing right outside his home.

She's also wearing her school uniform. It's Tuesday. More importantly, it's 11 am, and he's sure her mother didn't drive her here, so what—

"Can I come in?" El interrupts his mental rambling.

"I—yeah." He steps back, gesturing inside. His hand finds the back of his head once she's in, and the silence takes residence between them.

El shuffles on her feet, arms crossed tightly over her chest, and her eyes stay glued to the back of the couch for 7 painful seconds before she meets his gaze.

His eyes involuntarily widen at the exchange, and he lifts his eyebrows in awaiting as she stares at him. She did come into his home. He is waiting for some kind of explanation, or at least a word from her. So he mirrors her stance and keeps his silence.

El's eyes flutter, her fingers tightening on her biceps. "Hi."

"Hi?" He drags the words out, feeling his eyebrows furrow again as she purses her mouth.

Her feet shuffle again, and she blinks really fast as she tries to form a sentence that isn't 'hi' again. "I... uh... see you just woke up." Stupid, she immediately thinks.

Mike just sighs, dropping his shoulders a bit as he considers what to do. He could cut her small talk short, be direct and ask her what her game is, or he could be mean and kick her out, or he could indulge her. He's not angry more than resentful, and maybe a little bit hurt (more than a little), so he does not have the heart to do either of the first two choices.

"Yeah... it's eleven am," he murmurs, pointing at his cereal bowl on the table with a jerk of his chin. "Why aren't you in school?"

She has the nerve to actually blush. Her eyes drop down to her shoes, a grimace contorting her face before she looks at him again. "I... skipped."

"The whole day?"

"Uhm, no, just the last hours. I went to Brenner's class."

He leans down to sit against the back of the couch. "He still giving you trouble?"

"No. Actually, he's been kind of... nice. But I still showed up. You know, just in case." Her head bobs up and down in a nod, causing some hair to fall. His eyes trace the shell of her ear as she brushes the strands behind it, and then they follow the path of her hand as she lowers it until it's resting beside her thigh.

He sighs again. "Why are you really here, El?"

Her fingers press her skirt to her leg nervously, pads tapping on the fabric as she bites her lip. He sees her stomach cave in as she takes a breath and he looks up to catch her biting her lips.

Her eyes are wide, shiny and full of panic. His heart gives a pang at the realization of how scared she is of talking to him, but still, he waits, he gives her time. She knows the words, she just has to want to say them.

"I... wanted to see you." El admits slowly. "I..." she huffs, looking down at her shoes. She sighs again, rolling her eyes to the ceiling before she mutters something to herself, too low for him to catch. "Look, I'm not perfect. I know I make a lot of mistakes and I know that telling my mother about yours is pretty high on the list, but I want you to understand where I'm coming from, Michael." Her gaze is pleading, a little desperate, and her hands have started moving. She always moves them when she is talking, always animatedly expressing herself, and he likes this, because it means she's losing up enough to let the words run freely.

"I've only had one boyfriend. James, yeah, that James," she rolls her eyes when his eyebrows climb up. "And he was... always pristine looking, always with the right manners. He drove his dad's Porsche, he picked me and Sarah up from school, he visited me at home before we were official, he spoke politics with my dad and gossiped with my mom, and he always told them how he wanted to open his own financial firm after he went to college. He'd give me roses just because, and he'd always compliment me in front of my mother—"

"Is there a particular reason why you're comparing me to your ex? Or—", He interrupts with a dead stare.

"Yes. Listen. He was always like that, and then he cheated on me. And I was heartbroken, but I got over it because there were two James for me. First there was the perfect son-in-law for my mother, and then there was the petty, stuck-up dude who thought he was too good for everyone else. I learned to know him, and even though it did hurt, I realized I was better off without him. The thing is, my mom kept the good side as reference. Every guy who I started talking to wasn't ever near her standards. And then I met you. And... you know what your scene is like, how your personality is. You're stubborn and sarcastic, and can be a little rude when you want to be," she stops when he throws her a look. "Just—Everything she wasn't ever used to. And the fact that you didn't bend to her feet like she expected you to didn't sit well with her."

"Yeah, no shit." Mike snorts ironically, licking his lips as he shifts on the couch.

"And I know she loves me, I know she does, but she's just so hard to please," her eyes start getting shiny, and his chest automatically tightens, but she just swallows and carries on. "I thought if I explained some of your background she'd be more understanding of the reason why you behave like you do. I wasn't looking for her pity, Mike, I really wasn't. I just wanted her to understand a little. I thought maybe she'd see you different, but… I thought wrong. Obviously."

He knows she didn't really do it with malice, he'd had some days to reflect on everything, and maybe he had reacted too brash, but he couldn't get his emotions in control then.

"I love her," El mutters looking down at her feet again. "She's my mom. But she and I have very different opinions on you. And even though she raised me to be a goody-two-shoes, I know better now. I'm older and I can make decisions for myself. I'm not a child," she looks directly into his eyes while she says that, her jaw set. "I can stand up to her. But it's hard, I need you to understand that. My whole life I've been the perfect girl, because I never really wanted different than what my parents gave me. And I want you. I want you and I'm really challenging my mother because, for once, I'm making decisions about my life that don't involve her choices, and it's... it's just hard."

His hands are clenching the backrest of the couch so hard he's scared his fingers will break through the fabric.

"So, I'm sorry," El licks her lips, still toying with the hem of her skirt. "I'm mature enough to realize I screwed up, that what I did was wrong and that I hurt you, but I'm not the only one at fault here."

"Why?" He frowns.

"Why I'm not the only one?" She scoffs, hands coming up to her hips, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing because that pose always amuses him. "You were so mean to me. The things you said were out of line and that's only about dinner with my parents. What you did at the race—"

"Oh, not this again," Mike groans out, grimacing in annoyance. "El—"

"Yes, this again." She snaps. "You don't realize how dangerous that was, do you?"

"Everything was fine! Yes, I tumbled down a little—"

"You scraped your face all over the ground! You could've broken something—"

"El, it wasn't the first time, I—"

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? It doesn't matter if it's your daily routine, it's dangerous!"

"It's not like I'm a pro, or anything, but you've got to understand that in the rush of things sometimes we do some stuff to win, and yes, it could be dangerous but it doesn't happen to me. Like, ever—"

"Are you hearing yourself?" El says lowly, staring at him with incredulity in her eyes. "You're not God, Michael. You can't predict the future—"

He rolls his eyes. "I didn't say I was, just—"

"What if that night it did happen to you?" She interrupts. "What if you didn't get your leg out in the right time and Troy's bike just rode it out of your body? A broken leg? A severed ankle? A broken nose? A bad hit to the head and that is it. Michael Wheeler, dead by a slam to the floor. Is that how you want to go out?"

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Mike scoffs. "I don't do it all the time, El. I try to avoid it, I try to race as cleanly and precisely as I can, but that asshole was cheating and I had to do something about it, okay? I don't go around looking for death, which, by the way, nobody that I know has died by a severed ankle—"

"It was just an example!" El huffs, pursing her lips. "And maybe you don't know them because they're dead."

"It doesn't happ—okay! Fine, I admit that I was reckless. Yes, I know it was dangerous and that it can result in a tragedy—not by a severed ankle, though—but I'm fine. Okay? Nothing happened, and yes, it was wrong and I know it scared the hell out of you, but it's in the past, okay? No matter how many times you chew my ass about it, it won't change the fact that I fell."

"I know that," she rolls her eyes. "Words can't change time. I just… wanted you to understand how I felt while you did it. It's not something you can easily forget. Like, if I think too much on it it's like my brain just shows me images of you lying on the floor, and then they change to you on a hospital bed, and, like-I know. Okay? I know you're fine, but… it was just scary. And I know you get it now, so…" El trails off, shrugging her shoulders.

He nods, watching the way her mouth purses. God, it's eleven am. They're supposed to be fighting. Why is he thinking of literally eating her up?

"I'm sorry." Mike offers, lifting his butt from the back of the couch. He stops in the middle of the hall, a few steps from her. He feels like they're getting to a better place, but still won't get too close if she doesn't want him to. "I'm sorry I scared you. I won't do it in front of you again."

She huffs at that. "In front of you."

"Well, I can't lie and say it won't happen again. Like you said, I'm not God, I can't predict the future." He throws the words back at her, no malice intended, and watches as she stares at him. "Is that enough for you?"

"I don't know, Michael." She sighs, gripping the straps of her backpack and looking sideways.

"You know what I don't know?" Mike frowns after a few seconds, narrowing his eyes at her as he realizes something. "I don't know when you started calling me by my full name."

It's so absurd and out of context in the middle of their weird fight that she can't help but burst out in laughter.

His lips grow into a slow grin as he watches her eyes crinkle, her teeth gleaming as she laughs with her mouth fully open, and as she tries to cover her face with her hand. She's beautiful and her smile has always been disarming for him.

"You're ridiculous." She gasps out, leaning out of the wall and into his space. It's his chance, then.

"You're laughing," he shuffles closer, slowly reaching out until his hand is wrapped around her wrist. "Fight's over. That means I get to kiss you now."

"Shut up for a second." El tries to control herself, burying her mouth against her palm as her laughter continues to tumble out of her lips.

"C'mon," Mike smiles, grabbing her other hand as she lifts it to place both against her face. He pulls on the slender bones of her wrists, softly until she reluctantly lets him lower her arms down. His fingers trail down her palms, fingertips leaving tingles on the skin until they reach her own digits, interlacing them between his own. "Your laughter really does it for me, you know?"

"I should've learned that sooner," she whispers, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he leans down closer, teasing her nose with his. "Then we could've avoided all of this mess."

He stays quiet for some minutes, contemplating her face. She tried to fight it ever since he got on his bike, but she really just wanted to forgive him and him to forgive her and just put all of this behind them already. She missed him terribly.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, tracing the palm of her right hand with his thumb.

Her throat bobs with her gulp, because even though she had cried enough, this whole thing was way over blown, and just thinking of it makes her emotional all over again. "I'm sorry too," she whispers back, biting her lip when she feels her eyes start watering. "I'm sorry I let this go so far."

Mike shushes soothingly, unlacing one of his hands to place it on her cheekbone, ready to gather any tears. "I'm sorry I let it get this bad too. We were—"

"Stupid. And immature." She sniffles, looking down for a second before she meets his eyes again. "I love you."

"I love you too. And I'm so sorry, El." He lets go of her other hand to place it on the base of her neck, tilting her chin up so he can bump their noses together. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

"Just do it, loser." El grins, leaning in and capturing his lips with hers.

It's soft and warm, a little flaky because of his chapped lips, and also a little bit wet, but he fixes that with his thumb, gathering the leftover tears as soon as he feels the droplets fall from her lashes.

"I missed you," he mumbles with a sigh, kissing her back with fervor. "I missed you so much."

"Me too," she whimpers quietly, sneaking her fingers into the collar of his shirt to pull him down closer. There's a sudden itch she'd been trying to gulp down that only he can scratch. "I wanted to give in and call you, but..."

"Pride." He guesses, moving down her lips to her chin and neck, biting into the soft skin and getting a breathy moan in return.

"And ego." She agrees, letting her forehead fall against his shoulder as he continues sucking on her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

She kind of wants to move things along, but this will only be their second time, and she's kind of hesitant on how willing he is to be with her after they only made up a few minutes ago.

"Mike—"

"I know," he pulls back, smoothing his hands over her hair with a pant. He grips the straps on her shoulders, pushing back until her backpack lands with a thud by her feet. His pupils have that large circle of darkness that has become familiar to her— the one she rather likes seeing— and she can't help but grin along with him, because she knows that he found it in her eyes as well. "I know. We're cool though? We're fine?"

"We're fine," she reassures, biting her lip as she pulls him down again. "Fine."

This kiss is messy and wet, hands squeezing skin and teeth pulling at lips. His breath is sweet and a little tangy, his tongue a familiar rasp that makes the hairs on her body stand up. There's an urgency inside of her that starts seeping out of her pores, desperation dampening the air as Mike curls his fingers around the roots of her hair, pulling out a groan out of her mouth. Her legs tremble in wanting, her heartbeat speeds up, and her core starts throbbing.

With shaky hands she pushes the hem of his shirt up, bunching the fabric just bellow his pectorals as her fingertips trace the skin up. She feels his nipples harden under her palms, and she tweaks one between her thumb and pointer finger, earning her a bite.

"I liked that." Mike pants against her mouth.

"Yeah?" she mumbles back, doing it again. He moans, nipping her chin and following the lines of her throat down as she does it once more. Her breath rattles in her chest when he thrusts up against her, his shirt falling somewhere behind him. The feel of his hardening member pressing against her thighs... yeah, she missed this.

It doesn't take long after that for her to be toeing her flats off, fingers greedy on the naked skin of his chest, and his mouth feels hot and damp as it traces down her neck in sloppy kisses.

The cool air slashes against her stomach as he walks them down the hall, fingers working on her shirt as he licks the side of her neck. He works faster when the fabric of her collar keeps getting in his mouth, and once he feels the lapels open over her chest, he drapes it off her shoulders. Her bra is stark white against her tanned skin, the fleshy tops of her breasts peeking at him from the cups, and the tie that hangs between her mounds has him groaning at loud. He smiles against her chest when the feeling of his teeth has her squirming, soft intakes of breath by his ear when his fingers trace from her palms to her naked shoulders and under the straps.

"Mike—"

"Uh-huh." There's a damp circle on the fabric of her bra from where he's swirling his tongue. Her nipples pebble under the cups and he feels the hard tips between his lips, even through the fabric. Lips-to-bra isn't as fun as lips-to-skin, so he starts feeling around her back for the clasps as he tries to simultaneously open the door to his room, mouth still attached to her chest. He twists the handle, walks her backwards and into the room, and just as she starts moaning, it turns into a startled yelp as a bark welcomes them.

"Shit."

Papa starts running circles against them, barking non-stop at El as she pushes him away. "I'm not doing anything with you until he goes away."

"He's just a puppy, he won't know anything." Mike dismisses as he grips her waist, still trying to unclasp her bra.

"Mike!" She insists, slapping his shoulder. She's throbbing, her breasts are practically pulsing with need for his attention, but that little dog is still annoyingly barking at her, getting too close for her liking, and she won't screw him anywhere near the tiny beast. Her foot kicks out at Papa, and she yelps in alarm when he dives for her, his teeth sinking into the fabric of her socks. "Michael!"

He has the nerve to laugh, finally releasing her chest-cage, but she pays no mind to that as the puppy attached to her foot still doesn't let go.

"Get him off!"

"Okay, little terror," he squats down to her feet, hands going to Papa's jaw to pry him away from her. "Stop cock-blocking me."

Once he has him securely in his hands, he stands up and looks at her.

"You look ridiculous." El states breathlessly. He's shirtless, hair messy, there's a tent in his sweats and he's holding a Corgi. It'd be a funny scene if they weren't trying to get busy at the moment.

"I'm gonna… lock him in Nancy's room, or somewhere. Be right back, lose the bra but keep the tie."

"Wash your hands!" She calls to his back. She looks around his room once she's alone, pulling her bra down her arms and away from her body as she walks to his desk, folding it neatly and placing it on the surface. She takes off her socks as she eyes a facedown frame, and she rights it up with the knowledge of what photo it is. He told her, some months before, that that particular photo was his favorite of hers. "Bastard." She huffs quietly, confirming her suspicions as her face meets her eyes.

"What?" he mutters behind her, and she gasps out loud when his cold hands appear on her stomach.

Her mouth hangs open, breath shuttering out as his damp fingers trace up her goosebumps and lift the weight of her breasts on his palms. His mouth kisses her shoulder, tongue tracing the curve to her neck, and she can't help but rock back into him.

"Didn't want to see me?" She whispers heavily into the silence, the mood back on as he squeezes her chest and breathes against her skin.

"Huh?"

She shrugs the shoulder he's on, making him look up to the photo she's gesturing and she groans when he pinches her nipple in response. "Was it too much? My eyes?"

"I was fucking pissed at you," he mutters against her neck, lifting a hand to wrap around the base of her throat as he bucks against her. "Didn't want to come with your smile there."

She gasps when he squeezes her throat, her breath cutting short just to reflow again, and if would be a bit scary if she wasn't so turned on by it. "You touched yourself?"

"Yeah," he inhales sharply when she parts her thighs, the tip of his bulge trapped between them. "Wasn't the same."

El moans when he stars building a rhythm-thrust, thrust, grind, thrust—and she finds herself being lowered chest-to-desk. She looks over her shoulder at him, meeting his dark and hazy gaze as he thrusts against her. His hand traces over the naked skin of her back, the other gripping her waist, and even though they're literally doing second-base right now, she feels herself getting wetter. It's ridiculous, they already had sex, this should feel less good when she's had the real thing, but her breath keeps getting caught in her throat and her fingers tighten on the fabric of her skirt, along with her inner walls. She's so aroused it's surprising, and even though he's harder than a brick, he doesn't seem to be in a rush.

Mike grips her hips with both hands, bending over to rest his chest to her back, and his dick twitches at the groan she gives. "Feels good?" he murmurs to her ear.

"Yes." El pants out. Her chest feels tighter now with his added weight. The haze of her loss of breath flow has her feeling everything. Every move of his hips, every exhale, every mutter of his lips, she feels it on her skin. It makes her hotter, the feeling in her lower belly making her squeeze her thighs closer, trapping him tighter and making him groan.

"Do that again." He commands in a rush.

She squeezes her thighs closer, pinching his head, and the guttural moan he gives has her panting louder. His hands move lower, gathering the hem of her skirt and pushing it over her hips. His fingers trace the lines of her pink panties, slipping under it to flick over the sensitive skin of her slit, and he closes his eyes against her hair as she whines. He moves away from her, fingers digging into her hips as he pulls her underwear down, nails scraping soft skin until his knuckles touch the sides of her knees. He trusts her to wiggle them the rest of the way off. Mike leans in, nose touching the unblemished skin of her backside, making her squirm and pant, until he bites into the plump globe.

"Get up." He kisses her back, thumb rubbing the bite mark on her ass, and she takes five seconds to breathe and order her brain to make her arms respond to her. She pushes up against him, nearly tumbling as she shakes her panties off her ankles, and she turns around to join her mouth to his.

Her arms circle around his neck, breasts pressing against his chest as his hands squeeze her backside under her skirt. Her tongue wrestles with his, trying to balance the push of tongues and the pull of lips equally. She's still not used to French kissing, not when they're kissing as heatedly and rapidly as this. He's more experienced than her, knows how to wrap his tongue around hers but still caress her lips, somethings she's still mastering without keeping her mouth open like a fish. But it's her, and it's him, and they're patient with each other. He never teased her for being a virgin, and he's never made fun of her after she wasn't. She's comfortable and more than a little eager to keep practicing and polishing her recent sex life, now that it exists. Which is why she smirks when she finds herself being pushed onto her back.

"You've got no idea how good you look right now." Mike groans, slipping a hand between her breasts, over the tie, as she lifts her legs and places her feet to his stomach. Her hair is a halo of chestnut curls around her heated face, cheeks alive with color, eyes wide, glassy and darkened, her rosy tips standing up at the attention of his hands, and with once glance down he finds her glistening. She's the pure, vivid image of his wet dreams, and the sweet ones too, because she appears on those too. She's a dream of any kind.

She rises her eyebrows when he fists her skirt. "Got a thing for school?"

He smirks, touching the knot of her tie. "There's this one high schooler, she's such a sight, you don't know the half of it. She has this uniform, because she's a private school kid, prissy, nose-in-the-air, finger-jabbing, you know the likes, and she wears this little skirt, which drives me—", he leans down, pressing his nose to hers. "Absolutely crazy. So, yeah. She looks hot as fuck in the uniform. I didn't know I wanted to fuck her in it until I saw her."

"So, you got a school kink," she says breathily as she takes his face between her hands, rubbing her uncovered sex against his clothed one. "Are you into role-playing too?"

He kind of short-circuits, his eyes fluttering at her tone and words. "What?"

Her fingers loosen the knot of her tie, slipping it past her head and onto his.

"What are you doing?" he questions as she tightens the garment around his neck. She hasn't stopped grinding against him, and he's pretty sure the fabric will dissolve from the amount of juices they're creating.

"Fulfilling your kink." She grins wolfishly, pulling on the tie until her tongue slips past his lips, sliding against his and curling around it.

He feels so hot he thinks he will melt. He'll turn into a poodle of flesh, blood and cum and she'll have to call an ambulance because he won't come back to life.

He breathes harshly against her lips when she breaks the kiss. His hands are squeezing the hell out of her sides, and he flexes his fingers to try and not to bruise her.

"I think I'm ready, Mr. Wheeler." El murmurs to him, dark irises under heavy eyelids, and he feels the electricity run down his veins and shoot into his dick.

She sits up on the bed, chest heaving and toes curling in anticipation as he slips his sweats and boxers down his legs, erection bobbing against his stomach.

He slides on the bed until his back is pressed to the mattress, head on the pillows, and he extends a hand to her when he catches her confusion. "Come here. Put your legs on either side of me." She shuffles onto her knees, gripping his fingers until her wetness is pressed to his stomach. His hand searches for a condom in the drawer of his nightstand while he kisses her. She starts grinding on him again, and now that the exposed head of his member is near her flesh, it takes all his will to not just plunge into her.

"God, where is it?" He mutters in frustration, hand still groping for a condom. El breaks the kiss, letting him sit up a bit to peer into the drawer until he comes back with a silver square. "Hope you brought your hat, cowgirl." He murmurs as he rolls the condom on, securing the latex on his shaft. He meets her eyes when his finger touches her flesh, probing and searching until he slips one inside her. Her mouth drops open, hand resting on his chest, and he groans as her walls squeeze his digit.

"We'll go slow, okay?" He says against her mouth, butterfly kisses to her lips as his finger draws a circle inside her. She nods, and once he's pretty sure his dick will combust if he doesn't pay attention to it, he grips her hips and lifts her over him.

"I just… sit on you?" El whispers in confirmation, watching as he guides himself in. Once he feels the tip go in, he lifts his hips and lowers her down.

Fuck.

"Yeah." He rasps out, both in reaction and answer, closing his eyes at the sensation of her. Her nails sink into his chest and his eyes fly open to see her face. Her lips are parted in pleasure, eyes half-way open and a moan out of her throat, but she still winces.

"Easy, okay?" he guides her gruffly, gripping her hip as he watches himself disappear inside her. He bites his lip, trying to control his breathing, to forget himself in favor of lessening her pain. Her knees are digging into the mattress, hands supporting herself against his sternum as she keeps lowering her hips until he's hilted inside her. She takes some seconds to adjust, eyes closed to feel everything. It's a new position, the angle makes him be deeper, and the lingering ache of her recently-lost virginity is still present. Still, she finds that the more she wiggles he hits a spot in her that makes her forget the ache.

"El?" Mike questions after she stays like that for too long. His hands are gripping her skirt over her hips, and his eyes, although dying to flutter from the squeeze of her, are open and alert on her pinched face. "Are you okay?"

She exhales once, licks her lips, exhales again, and then she grips the tie around his neck, bringing him closer. "Move."

He bounces his hips as she kisses him heatedly, building up the rhythm until she's panting against his mouth, eyebrows pinched together and fingers curled into the tie. She feels his every move, feels every slide of his member against her walls, and she feels incredible. It's like there's a million butterfly wings in her lower belly, a zap of lighting running down her spine and buzzing her pores open every three or so thrusts. The noises coming out of his mouth are music to her ears, and it just adds to the mood around them. She feels like drowning with him, here, in his room, all alone.

"God." Mike moans into her cheek. One of his hands is still holding onto the fabric of her skirt while the other has circled her waist, palm open between her shoulder blades. His knees lift up, he plants his feet on the bed, and with a solid grip, he starts thrusting harder, meeting her inner thighs with a smack that resounds on the walls.

She chokes on her own spit at the change in rhythm, feeling the plunge harder than ever. Her chest feels tight, as if all the air has left her lungs and she tries to grasp it back inside with harsh pants against his temple as she braces herself on his chest and tries to push down as much as she can to chase the delicious feeling inside her.

She has no notion of time, or of her own self, except for the sensations of her body, so she has no idea she's even talking until his voice breaks through her haze.

"—that, huh? Keep saying my name," his breath is hot and breezy against her ear, and her sweaty neck breaks out in goosebumps. "Keep saying it, El."

"Mike," she gasps out, squeezing her eyes shut, just letting him hit right there without any complains. "Mike."

Her world spins on its axis as she feels herself being pushed back. She opens her eyes and stares at her favorite picture: Mike, sweaty and red in the face, freckles pale underneath the flush and eyes as dark as sin. His hair is a bigger mess than ever, the tie clinging to his chest as perspiration bursts out of his pores along with desire.

"Ah!" she cries out as soon as he thrusts into her again. Her thighs are wide open on either side of his hips, the skirt—the freaking skirt, why did she even listen to him? It's just in their way—damp with the sweat on her legs and on his hands. Her nipples pucker up when his chest makes contact with her own, and she sighs at the feel of him draped over her.

Her hands reach around his head, fisting the curls on the back of it, and a gasp rips out of her mouth as he takes the back of her thighs in his hands and pushes. His forehead lands on hers and she swears she's never felt more connected to him than in that moment. His eyes lock with hers and it's like he's staring right into her soul. There's specks of golden in the brown, little flicks of light around the pool of darkness. His pupils are blown wide, his eyelids fluttering with every thrust, and his lashes brush against her eyebrows every few seconds. His hair tickles her chin, it creates a heated curtain around them, making the moment even more intimate. The bedsheets melt under her sweaty back, and she feels like she's in a cloud of cotton, stuffy and hot, but so, so amazing.

Mike leans down and kisses her, breaking their gaze. His tongue feels heavy on hers, his breath hot in her mouth, and she can't stop herself from doing those 'ngh, nmf, ungh' noises she thought she'd never make when the pressure of his hands makes more space for him between her legs. He's hammering fast and hard inside her, and it feels incredible, like she has reached a new level of pleasure, so she rips her mouth from his to actually breathe.

"Yeah?" He rasps out, deep creases between his eyebrows from furrowing them. He must've found something in her face that shows how good she's feeling, so she just nods and receives the kiss he deposits on her lips. He pecks her again, holds her gaze for a minute—or two, she can't count—and then slides his damp face into her neck.

He buries a moan there, and she yelps when he bites the flushed skin of her throat. Her wide eyes stare at the ceiling, squeezing and releasing as he keeps chasing that tingling sensation inside her.

There's a tightness on the juncture of her tights and pelvis from where he's holding her open. She's not used to being…well, open, and even though she tries to ignore it in favor of the pleasure he's giving her, it just won't go away.

"Mike," she calls breathily, trying to pull one of her knees down. "My—ah! It hurts—"

He takes a minute to register her words, chest heaving from how hard he's breathing, but there's an alertness in his eyes that wasn't there before. "Am I hurting you?"

She takes his cheeks in her palms, bringing him down again to kiss him softly. "Just… my thighs." She gestures lamely to where they're joined, making a move to close her legs. He seems to get it, because he nods, releasing her legs. They fall heavily on either side of him, and she takes the time to breathe and calm herself a little. She's distantly aware of the red marks on his shoulders. She didn't even realize her hands were there.

His hands slide underneath her, palms open against her shoulder blades once more, and once her thighs are draped over his, he tugs her up. She grunts, the unexpected heaviness of her body surprising her a little, but then he's shifting them on the bed, and she finds herself sitting on him, his back against the headboard.

Her lips tug up into a lazy smile when he meets her eyes, and he chuckles heavily, pulling her closer to him as her arms circle his neck. "Hi." El whispers.

"Hi, fish." He grins, thumb brushing her lower lip. He kisses it, licking it until he's sucking it into his mouth, and just like that, the mood is back on.

This time she knows what to do with herself, so she grips his member-pulling a groan out of him that sends shivers right down to her talons—and lifts her hips until the head brushes her lower lips, and then she sinks on him.

They start building a rhythm, her belly sliding against his, her breasts smashed between their chests, and the puckered button that is her clit rubbing against his pubic hair.

"You're warm," Mike whispers against her mouth. "Around me. You're warm." She gets what he's talking about then, and she groans, taking his chin in one hand to kiss him harder. She bites and sucks at his puckered mouth, burying gasps into their kisses as he starts bobbing her up and down on him.

"Like that," she mutters desperately, feeling the tingling pulling at her walls. She closes her eyes, furrowing her eyebrows against his chin as he lowers a hand down, rubbing at her clit with a thumb. "Ah, like that. Just like that."

"You feel so good," Mike starts mumbling to her, watching the way her shoulders start jerking and her spine straightens up. "You look so hot like this. So messy and hot for me—"

"Mike—"

"—control like this, you have no idea. I want to keep you here forever, I'm never letting you go—"

"Mike! Ugh—"
"—leaving this bed, I'll make you come like this everyday—"

"Jesus, Mi—"

"—beautiful, I love you, I want to marry you, you've no idea… shit—"

Her legs start quivering, her stomach caves in, and the pulsing in her clit feels like it's gonna burst, toomuchtoomuchtoomuch.

"Too much!"

"El, c'mon—"

She comes with a gasp, her knees digging into his sides, one of his hands against her lower back to keep her down, and her nails digging into the skin of his sternum as she bites his jaw. Her eyes squeeze so hard she's afraid they'll never see the light again, shivers running down her spine and liquid rushing from her core. Her shoulders hunch in, and she feels Mike's arms engulf her hard, shielding her from the enormous amount of pleasure she's going through.

El whimpers, Mike's hand closing around hers, and she opens her eyes to see his fingers prying her nails off his chest. He's breathing hard, hips jerking sporadically, eyes closed in pleasure, a vein prominent on his forehead. He helps her ride out the last waves of her orgasm, and she's more than a little disappointed that she missed him coming. He slips out of her, and it looks like an effort for him to open his eyes again and lift her off. He pulls the full condom off, and once he flings it to the direction the trashcan is (tragically missing), he pulls her back to him, head thudding against the headboard in exhaustion.

They stay like that for a while, trying to catch their breath back and savoring the aftermaths of their orgasms.

.

.

.

He runs his hand up and down her back, eyes closed in relaxation, and she breathes in the smell of him. Sweat, musk, a little bit of his shampoo, and other fluids she has a guess or two of where they came from.

The air coming from the vents dries the dampness of her skin in the time they take to rest; she hears Papa barking in the distance, probably annoyed at being locked away from them.

Her heartbeat thuds next to his ear, and he feels the heaviness in his eyelids once she starts running her fingers through his sweaty curls.

"You need a haircut." El mumbles against his head, looking at the long strands between her fingers.

"Why?" he speaks into her skin, lips brushing the softness of her chest. "Don't like me like this?"

"It's just getting too long."

"Yours is long and I like it. I like seeing it fanned all over my bed."

She smiles at that. "Are you competing with me? If you don't cut it, you'll have to tie it next time we have sex. Can't have your head all tangled with mine."

He lifts his head with a smirk. "What's that about my head tangled in you?"

"Oh my God." She rolls her eyes with a laugh.

"I thought you liked that."

"You're impossible, Michael."

"Mmmm," he hums as he traces her cheekbone. "There's my full name again."

"What? I like your name." She mumbles against his finger, watching his face as he traces her features.

"You do? What other things you like about me?"

Her eyes turn down, catching the marks her nails left just above his left nipple. She touches them just as she feels his fingers skimming past her chin. She doesn't want to get too cheesy, but in this soft moment they're having, just after being together again, after the fight and all, she finds herself needing to say more.

"El?" Mike lifts an eyebrow, not overlooking her sudden quietness, tracing the lines of her neck and the hollow of her throat.

"Everything." She mumbles shyly, looping a finger on her other hand into the dent of his bellybutton.

"You like everything about me?" The corners of his lips tug up, and he understands her vulnerability. "Even when I'm a brute and an animal?"

"Yes."

His fingers skim the lines of her shoulders and then they trace back up her neck, until he grips her chin and lifts it up to catch her eyes. He pushes back some of her hair, baring her face and leaving her expression open to his eyes. He thumbs her lips again, and he pulls her in for a kiss, trapping her hands between them.

It's soft and sweet. Tender. Just what they need from each other.

"I love you." El smiles, resting her forehead to his. He swears he feels his heart swell up.

"I love you too. So much."

Her hands get free and she circles his wrists, fingers touching the little hairs on his arms. "I really am sorry." she whispers, biting her lip after.

"I know you are," Mike nods, brushing their noses together. He smiles once she crunches it, and he kisses the tip before continuing. "I'm sorry too. But," he takes a deep breath, his eyes going distant for a minute. "My mother always said mistakes are meant for learning. And this will help us grow."

She nods, waiting for him to continue. He kisses her again, his thumbs tracing her jawline.

"We have to be better, El," he says seriously, their eyes focused on each other. "Trust and communication."

"We have to take each other's feelings into consideration," she adds, raising a pointed eyebrow. "You have to work on your anger. I'm not blaming you for anything, but… you tend to react brusquely when you're angry."

"I know," Mike nods, guilt bleeding into his eyes. "I have a short temper. You too."

"I know," she repeats, shrugging a shoulder. "We butt heads on that. But we need to control our tempers or we'll always end up like this."

"Like this?" Mike smirks, gesturing to their naked bodies. "I don't see the problem."

"Mike!" She laughs, mock-glaring at him.

He sobers up. "We both say a lot of things we don't mean when we're angry. I think it's human nature to try and hurt the other person when we feel attacked."

"I love you," El turns her head and kisses his palm. "And I'm sorry I lash out. I don't want to attack you. This time wasn't even on purpose. I really didn't want my—"

"I know you didn't mean it," he reassures quickly, kissing her forehead. "I know. You know… she is just a sensitive topic. Please don't ever mention it again to your mom."

"Never," she shakes her head. "I promise. I learned that already."

"And I promise I'll try not to run. I'll face the problem. I'll stay." Mike says with an earnest face, tapping her chin.

"Okay." El smiles.

"Okay." He nods, mirroring her smile. She leans in and kisses him, sealing their promise.

After a few minutes, she leans back. "I need a shower. We both need a shower. And there's a dirty condom that needs to be put in the trashcan."

"We'll have to shower together. You know, to save water. The bill is getting crazy, this government, I tell you." Mike shakes his head, helping her to get off him.

"Yeah, right," El snorts, crawling to the foot of the bed. "I'll shower with you but no funny business. I think my legs are going to fall off tomorrow."

He appears behind her, kissing her shoulder, standing in all his naked glory. "You okay? I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine." She smiles, turning around and placing a hand on his cheek. She tugs her tie off him. "This uniform, on the other hand…"

"Yeah, you need to wash this." Mike laughs, unfastening her skirt and holding her arm as she wiggles the garment off. "Don't think Brenner likes the smell of sex."

She makes a face, placing the skirt and tie on the unmade bed and taking his hand. "Don't think he even knows it."

He guides her out of the room and into the hallway. "What do you know? Maybe he…" he makes a face as well. "Why are we even talking about Brenner's sex life? Gross."

"You started it, you piggy." She teases, pinching his butt when they enter the bathroom.

"Hey! Hands to yourself, missy. No funny business."

She laughs, walking into the shower after him. She stands back against the wall and watches as he fumbles with the handles. She regrets her position the minute the water explodes out of the head and drenches her in cold water.

A horrified gasp tumbles out of her mouth in shock, and she hurries to press herself to a laughing Mike, who's still turning the hot water handle. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"You're an ass!" She whines, shivering against his back as her cold and wet hair plasters to her skin.

"Sorry," Mike chuckles, turning around to hug her close, one hand extended to feel the temperature of the shower. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"Right."

"I swear," he kisses her wet head, wrapping his arms around her and walking them under the shower head once the water turns warm. "Told you once I wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

El hums. "Yeah," she leans back to kiss him, water droplets falling on their faces. "Yeah, you did." He still has some yellowish bruising under his right eye, just at the top of his cheek, and there's a faint scar by his eyebrow. He got away lucky, but the reminders of his accident are still there. Still, he's beautiful.

He kisses her back, and the water keeps getting in their way.

It's not perfect, it's not ideal, but it's them and that's enough.