Definition [ot4]

Seventeen

((Smut warnings.))

((If you ever wanted to know what gay het was, this is it))

Calum's laying in bed, face pressed into a warm pillow, inhaling what could possibly be Michael's cologne, when the door flings open. She doesn't even try to cover where her skirt is sliding up to reveal the smooth curve of her ass, covered by ripped fishnets and black lace panties. Only three people have a key to her room, and she's not concerned about any of them seeing her like this.

"Cal, do you mind if I-" Michael's voice cuts off with a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, "hello." Calum makes a "hmp," noise in response, pushing her face further into the pillow.

She hasn't got a shirt on, only a binder wound tightly around her chest. She doesn't need it, really, the tight wrap isn't compressing anything, but it makes it feel like there's something on her chest. Like there's something that needs to be held down, despite her flat chest and male body.

There's only a black shirt around her waist, along with black fishnets and black lingerie, because Calum really likes to think she's emo, sometimes.

She can literally hear Michael swallow from the edge of the bed. "Can- can I- can I touch?"

Calum makes the muffled noise again and shifts her hips, so her bum is sticking out a little more. She nods and shakes her ass, probably catching Michael's attention more than necessary.

Michael notices the pronoun sticker resting on the pillow next to Calum's head and says, "She? Want me to call you princess?"

Calum shrugs, feeling the bed dip towards her feet. There's a soft moment of silence, and then Michael's inhaling deeply and shoving a hand up her skirt. A hand comes up to cup her ass, fingers digging into the thin material separating his fingers from skin, and Calum lets out a muffled groan.

"Oh my god," Michael whispers, almost like he's talking to himself and not trying to be dramatic. "Shit, fuck, I love your ass."

Calum giggles, only to be cut off by a moan when there's suddenly two hands cupping her ass from either side. She bites down on the pillow to muffle her noise of surprise, then pushes into Michael's warm touch.

"I feel so blessed," Michael whispers, kneading Calum's ass through the lace and crossed string of the fishnets. "This is truly incredible."

Calum lets the pillow drop out of her mouth to sigh, mostly fond and only slightly annoyed. "Stop it, just touch me."

"This is a dream come true," Michael's hands crawl upwards, then slip into the waistband of the fishnets, then the panties, until his palm is curved along the edge of Calum's bum, skin on skin.

"Are you okay with this?" Michael asks softly, hand stalling from its previous massaging movements.

Calum groans and reaches her hand back, wrapping her fingers tightly around Michael's wrist. His fingers spread out when Calum's thumb pushes against the veins and tendons, covering more of her ass. Michael still doesn't move, waiting for spoken consent, then flinches when Calum yells, "Yes! Alright? Now, hurry up and do something!"

"No need to get your panties in a twist," Michael laughs then, making Calum groan in annoyance this time. "Get it? 'Cause your wearing panties?"

Calum decides it's nearly impossible to get Michael's mind in one spot. She wiggles her ass a bit again and says, "You can take them off, if you want."

Michael's laugh cuts off with a startled noise. His hands disappear for a few seconds, forcing a pout from Calum, only to reappear at her waist. Two fingers hook into the waistband of her skirt and start tugging slowly. Too slow. Calum shifts her hips to make the process go a little faster, but Michael only goes slower, stopping completely to push Calum's hips back against the bed. Michael eventually gets the skirt off, leaving a trail of kisses from the curve of Calum's ass, down his thighs and calves, finally stopping at her Achilles heel. Calum's thighs are shaking.