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What if he takes the next flight to Munich and slaps Ness across the face? What if he doesn’t go through the trouble himself, but hires someone to slap Ness across the face? What if he does both?
Michael is usually a collected—not calm—individual who, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t enjoy confrontation or fighting. His malice although inherited from his father has its own identity and nature. Sure, he’s mean to people, usually Ness, who at times like this deserves it, but he won’t go out of his way to torment someone. It’s not his fault if Ness is often in his way.
This time Ness is one thousand percent at fault.
When his transfer was approaching, Ness insisted on helping him pack. He was adamant that Michael would forget stuff and that it’d be a pain to send them all the way to Spain. So, they packed together.
Even when Ness claimed he wouldn’t do as Michael said anymore, which theoretically meant he wouldn’t do stuff for him anymore. That dissolved immediately. Sort of. Ness was resilient in his persistence, and it grated Michael’s head.
Nevertheless, Ness was wrong. Because two of his hoodies are missing. The two he liked best and wore them all the time.
Fuck Ness, really.
He picks up his phone and goes to his WhatsApp. Ness, as always, is at the very top, having texted him this morning about some thing or another to which Michael didn’t respond. He presses the call button and seethes on his bed.
“Yes?” comes Ness’ voice, eager and out of breath. Probably ran to his phone to answer.
“Where the fuck are my hoodies?” Michael demands.
“What?”
“My hoodies, Ness, where are they?”
A tsk sounds comes and before Michael can indignantly reply, Ness says, “I packed them in your large suitcase, Michael.”
Michael…
When the fuck did he give permission to him to call him that?
As if reading his mind, Ness adds, “That’s your name, get over it.”
“Well, they’re not there, so where are they?” Michael demands again, fruitlessly, he knows but Ness is his punching bag and someone must hear it.
“I don’t know—” There’s a shuffling sound and Ness clears his throat. “Listen, I have to—”
“You’re not going anywhere until I find them,” Michael snaps.
Ness huffs, the same breathlessness to his voice that should have dissipated by now. “This really isn’t a good time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Michael says sarcastically, “Am I interrupting?” Another shuffling sound and no response is all he gets. “Ness?”
“Mm?” Ness hums. A click is heard and then a sigh. “Yes, Michael you’re interrupting.”
“Aw, were you lonely?” Michael taunts, knowing full well Ness does miss him, even if he doesn’t understand it. After everything Ness should hate him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he hums and sighs again in his ear.
Maybe he’s sleepy, it’s 1am in Munich right now. Michael, himself should be sleeping. But he couldn’t. It’s one of those rare times when he wants to sleep with comfy clothes on but no, Ness just had to ruin it.
“Yeah,” Ness whines, “can we talk later?”
Ness never wants to end calls with him. Every time he—Ness; Michael doesn’t—calls, he finds all kinds of excuses to keep Michael on the phone with him. It’s pretty annoying. Or that’s what Michael would like to say.
Truthfully, he has missed the familiarity that came with Ness. After four years playing together on the same team, the only team either had ever been in, this change is monumental. Yes, it’s a step up, but it’s uncomfortable. Life with Ness, even during the few months he stayed in Bastard Munchen after Japan, was undeniably easy. Not only because Ness did things for him, but because Michael knows him.
Well, he knew him. The parts of Ness he didn’t know, the ones he couldn’t understand and therefore lost, the ones he still doesn’t know, never bled into their everyday life. Little changed when they returned to Germany. The biggest change was that Ness bit back. But Michael wasn’t exactly in the mood for conflict, battered and bruised as he was, so it didn’t happen a lot.
Now, in Re Al, things are a little tense. Michael feels like he’s walking on eggshells all the time and Itoshi Sae doesn’t make it easier with his bluntness and his arrogance. His demanding playstyle fits Michael perfectly but still, it’s annoying.
“Michael? I’m hanging up,” Ness says.
“Why are you so eager? Does your company need you so desperately?” Michael drawls.
Ness sighs, this time a little impatiently. “There’s no one here with me.”
“Then? What is so important that I’m interrupting?”
“I— It’s nothing— We can talk in the morning— Good—”
Why the fuck does he want to hang up so much? “Nope, I’m in the mood—” Ness chuckles for some reason, “—to talk. How is life without me? Do you cry every night?”
Ness laughs and then takes a sharp breath in. Weird. “Yeah… Life is awful without you. I’m barely keeping together.”
Michael had never noticed his voice before. It’s kinda… soothing. It’s soft and quiet. It never raises. Ness never yells at him even when he probably should. His voice is always sickeningly sweet to Michael and unbearably gentle. Something about it is off with it right now, though.
“I understand,” Michael plays along. There’s nothing better to do; his hoodies have disappeared into the void. “Your brain must be atrophying with all the mid-level players around it.”
“Actually,” Ness says breathily, “it’s a refreshing change of pace.”
That was uncalled for. Kinda. “Oh? Was I hindering you too much?”
Ness laughs but it’s cut off suddenly and he clears his throat. What on earth is he doing? “No, it’s just— your play needed specific passes, now— they just have to take what I give them.”
“Didn’t think I could handle your extraordinary passes?” Michael quips.
“No—” A thump is heard, and Ness’ voice sounds far off. He shuffles again before picking up his phone again. “It’s not that— Listen, let’s—”
“Let’s not,” Michael cuts him off. “What the fuck are you doing?”
There’s a long pause. So long that Michael checks his phone to see if the call disconnected. Away from his ear, Ness makes a weird noise and then sighs again.
“I’m having a bit of me time so can we talk in the morning?” Ness says, a tinge of anger in his voice.
Oh. Oooh…
That’s interesting. That’s very interesting. He tells him so.
“What? That I have needs? I know it’s unfathomable to you, but I always had them,” Ness says and Michael can picture him rolling his eyes.
“And now that I’m gone you have to fulfil them?” Michael asks with a laugh he forces out; his breath has caught in his throat.
What Ness said is not wrong. He submitted himself so fully to Michael that the mere of thought of his own needs never crossed either of their minds. That’s what Michael thought anyway. That’s what he hoped was happening. Because if Ness remembered he had needs of affection and support, as all humans do, he would leave Michael in a heartbeat.
But he claims he always had them. So, why didn’t he leave? He had a very good chance to. Even now, he doesn’t just hang up on him, which he could have, and then not pick up when Michael would pester him.
“Why are you acting as if you fulfilled them?” Ness snickers.
Fuck off. “Fuck off.”
“Did last week.” Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off— “Wasn’t in the mood for that today, to be honest,” Ness says, as if making casual conversation, “that would take a lot of prep and would involve someone else here so hard no.”
“It wasn’t good then,” Michael says, pity clear in his voice. “Poor puppy.”
Ness takes a sharp breath in, and Michael feels all the wires in his head connect at once. He never considered controlling Ness this way—probably because it would expose Michael too much—but it presents many tantalising possibilities.
“No, she was really nice,” Ness says and all pretence is gone; Michael can hear his hand moving. Fuck.
“Mm, what did she do?”
Ness sighs and groans. Fuck that sounds good. Slowly, begrudgingly, Michael lowers his underwear, taking himself in hand.
“She rode me.” That’s a nice image. Powerless, vulnerable Ness, up for the taking.
“Of course, she did. You have an aversion to control, don’t you? You want others to have it.” He should want Michael to have it. Michael should have it. Fuck.
“That was the first time,” Ness tsks. Multiple rounds. Obviously. Out of everyone in Bastard, only Ness could keep up with Michael’s stamina. Such a shame they didn’t explore it. Michael’s hand goes faster without him telling it to.
“Very good, puppy.” Another whine. Michael doesn’t drink but he could get addicted to this. Ness always yielded so nicely. So easily. Perfectly made for Michael’s whims. “Go on.”
“I— fuck— ate her out.” Hm, Ness on his knees. Not bad. “Almost broke my neck.”
“Did she come?” Michael asks, trying to keep himself from coming.
“Of course, she did, what do you take me for?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t tried you yet.” The ‘yet’ was unnecessary, but it fits. Michael doesn’t mean anything by it, of course, but it fits. Not that he would, but it fits.
Ness moans and Michael regrets not putting his headphones on. “You should have.” Michael stills his hand on himself. The slightest move will make him come, he just knows it. Ness doesn’t care though. “You should have,” he repeats with a whine.
“How would you suggest?” Michael asks as if Ness is a salesperson trying to sell him a brand new and exciting product. Which, in many ways, he is.
Having abandoned all shame, Ness groans loudly. Right in Michael’s ear. Which is the phone’s fault, but it feels as if Ness is right next to him, panting with his head on Michael’s shoulder. His body would be warm, Michael knows, and right now it would burn him.
“In any way you wan— you’d want to.” The slip up isn’t lost on Michael; Ness doesn’t think Michael wants it. Michael doesn’t know himself. What he knows is that Ness should keep talking. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Thought you wouldn’t do as I said anymore,” Michael throws it back at him.
“Would you do as I said? No, so let’s not make this science fiction.”
He’d be surprised. Michael has never done anything like this with anyone. Hasn’t even kissed anyone. He has done a good job keeping people away, but Ness doesn’t realise that. First time around, Michael would have no choice but to listen to him. Second time, though...
How would he do it? Would he be assuring and guiding like he always is when Michael doesn’t know something? When they pretend he does and that Ness is just babbling. Would he go through with it, step by step, teach Michael how his body works? How his own body works? Ness would try for sure, even if this body isn’t made for pleasure.
Or would he be demanding and assertive? Would that be a part of Ness he doesn’t know? Would he tower over Michael, mentally or physically and push him to his limits? That’d be a sight.
“Hm, don’t know really. Come on, try me,” Michael says to say something.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ness says and it’s a lie. Michael will let him dig his own grave. “Either way. You fucking me, me fucking you, I wouldn’t care.” He’s crude with it and it shouldn’t sound so good, but it does.
“Taking turns, huh? Keeping it nice and equal,” Michael taunts.
“Nothing's equal with you.” True in more ways than one. “You’d probably take me over your lap just for the sake of it. You wouldn’t even know what to do.”
“Underestimating me much? It’s no secret you like being manhandled. You’d probably love it. You’d beg for it.”
“For your hands on me? Most likely.” Michael’s hand goes faster and faster until he can feel his breath shortening. He mutes himself and lets out a deep groan that rattles his chest. “I didn’t have to beg with her,” he grumbles.
“It’s going to take more than that to make me jealous, puppy,” Michael unmutes and says, reminding Ness who he is. As if on cue, as if it abides Newton’s law of action and reaction, Ness gasps and whines and sobs. Michael would love to see his face right now.
“Wasn’t trying to. I’m not delusional,” Ness mutters.
“Go on,” Michael says. “How do you want my hands on you?”
Either Michael has a calling, or Ness is too easy, because he moans and breathes in deeply, forcibly.
“In any way, I don’t care.”
“Didn’t you say you always had these needs? You must have thought about it.”
A sob comes and then nothing for a moment. “I would’ve taken anything.” The way he says it makes something in Michael’s stomach wrench, both in pain and in pleasure. “It wouldn’t have mattered.” Michael has to change the subject, make Ness say it, make him focus on something else.
“What did you want from me?” Michael says and it sounds wounded.
“I want—” Want. Want. As in right now, right? Not present. Not generally. Now, right? “I want you to do what I’m doing.” He is. In a way. And it feels good. Like his voice does. Like his small gasps and deep moans do. Like the mental image of Ness burning up does.
“I want you to put your fingers in my mouth.” Shit, shit, shit. He’d take them well. He always took everything well. He’d leave his mouth open and let Michael play with his tongue if he wanted to.
“I want you to leave bruises on my thighs.” Michael has seen bruises on Ness, and they always look like they’ve broken his skin, like they ran deep within his body. He’d look good with Michael’s marks on him. They’d deter hopeful girls away.
“I want— Fuck— I want— you. I want you,” Ness breathes into Michael’s ear. The bastard. He should’ve been here. He should’ve been on top of Michael, crying and begging for his touch like he is now but he should’ve been here. Michael cannot reach him where he is.
Michael can reach himself, though, and each and every cell of his body can’t decide what it wants, whether he wants to come or prolong this even more. Ness sounds at his limit.
Michael is at his own limit.
“Ness…” His heart is pounding in his ears to the rhythm of Ness’ pants and groans. Is he really doing this? He could pretend to just have been humiliating Ness in the end but with this he won’t be able to. He could pretend this doesn’t affect him. He could… “Ness.” He doesn’t respond. “Alexis.”
All sounds halt with a broken moan and a pitiful sob. “Yes?”
Is he really— Fuck, there’s no going back now. “Take yourself in both hands.”
Alexis’ voice breaks and, whining and crying, with some shuffling he does. “Yes—”
“Go at it, like you want me to.” Michael doesn’t know what exactly he’s doing but Alexis' groans get deeper, his panting harsher, his whines more pitiful and each sound washes all over Michael’s body and guides his own hand. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes!” Alexis gasps. “Yes it does—” Another gasp. A soft moan. “Fuck, I wish you were here.” Michael does too. “You’re so mean. Why did you have to—?” A whine. “It’s your fault—”
“Yes. Yes, I know,” Michael amends. Fuck, why isn’t he there? Why isn’t Alexis fused to him? Why isn’t he pleading under Michael?
“Please— let— please, please, please— let me—”
“Alright,” Michael says as if it’s a treat he’s handing out instead of a deal with the devil for Alexis’ climax. “But remember… it’s mine.”
“Yes! Yes— it’s yours—”
“Come, Alexis.”
It sounds as if he’s stabbed. It sounds like it hurts. It sounds like Alexis is completely losing it. Fuck. A wave of moans and groans and chants of Michael’s name come incoherently, brokenly. It really is his. It’s only his. Michael’s own climax crashes through him at the thought, attacking his spine and his mind and his whole body erupts in goosebumps and little electric shocks dance on his skin.
Michael collapses on his bed, spent and tired and sated.
Why did they never do this before? Why did Alexis hide this from him?
Fuck him.
Wait—
Since when is he Alexis?
No. No, no, no… Alexis— Ness is his dog. Nothing more.
Fuck.
How could he do this to him?
“Micha,” comes Alexis’— Ness’—fuck—soft voice. Michael hums. He cannot trust himself to speak. “Your hoodie smells nice.”
What?
An offended sound escapes him despite himself.
Al— Ness chuckles. “Goodnight.”
He ends the call before Michael can say anything.
Michael has half a mind to call him back and curse at him, but he leaves the app and goes to his browser.
Huh, the next flight to Munich is expensive.
Whatever can he do, though?
His hoodies have been stolen.