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thedeviltohisangel · 5 years

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I Bet Her Mama Never Told Her Why//Michael Langdon x OFC

Tummy Riding .xx

Smut Warning

set in the same universe as “Before Anyone Knew” which can be found at the link in my bio!

a user on ao3 requested more of this pairing and @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning submitted the tummy riding idea and honestly...we all know why.

let me know if you guys would like more of them!

Clara watched intently as the snow fell from the sky in circles, like ballerinas twirling, and gripped her mug of coffee tighter in the hopes it would warm her freshly out of bed hands. She had been delighted to see the snow out her bedroom window that morning, containing her squeal so Michael could sleep in, running to grab her fleece robe and get a better view from her living room.

“What’s going on? Why weren’t you in bed when I woke up?” She turned to see Michael, his tummy exposed from his t-shirt riding up as he scratched the back of his head with a yawn.

“It’s snowing! I wanted to watch it for a little bit before making breakfast.” Clara held her arm out towards him, Michael taking her hand slowly as she pulled him next to her. “See how magical? Everything gets quieter when snow falls.” He wasn’t watching the snow. He was watching her.

“I could make it snow for you whenever you want, you know.” His arms wrapped around her waist as he moved to stand behind her, his nose nuzzling against her throat.

“I know. There’s just something magical about the universe doing it for you.”

“I’m hungry.” His tongue snaked out to lick gently at her neck. She shivered under his touch and turned her head so her lips could meet his. They fit together like a key in a lock, her lips always unlocking some desire and passion deep within him. Michael had trouble controlling his urges when it came to Clara. Something about her awoke a beast inside of him and there was nothing that either of them could do to tuck it back away once it reared its horny head.

“You’re a big boy. I think you can make breakfast yourself.” He couldn’t stop the childish groan that then fell from his mouth.

“But, Clara, you do it exactly the way I like.” Michael clenched his hands into fists at his side. She also had the perfect ratio of nutella to peanut butter on his toast. The perfect level of crispiness on his bacon. None of the apple slices she gave him were soft or brown.

“Then how about we do it together so you can learn?” That was a compromise he could accept. She held his hand as they walked into the kitchen, starting with preheating the toaster oven for the toast. “Now, you turn the heat on after the bacon is in the pan so that way all the fat comes out of it and makes it extra crispy.” Michael nodded and gently peeled enough bacon strips from the package for the both of them and laid them in a neat line in the pan, making sure none of them overlapped.

“Do you want me to make you another cup of coffee?” He had moved over to the Keurig, learning how to use that a long time ago when he had wanted to surprise Clara with a treat in bed before she woke up. Also because he had learned you could make hot chocolate in it.

“No thank you. I need to drink more water, my skin’s been so dry.”

“I think your skin is always soft, Clara. Like velvet.” Her skin had brought him so much comfort in the time he had known her. There was always a way for him to be touching her and he always found it. Sexual or not, he had begun to require her natural warmth in order to feel at ease.

“You’re too kind to me. It hurts even more now when other people are vaguely mean cause you’ve given me such a high bar of expectations,” she said as she pulled a few slices of bread from the bag to place in the toaster.

“People are mean to you? Who’s mean to you?” Michael was beginning to feel his blood boil. How dare anyone make Clara feel less than the absolutely perfect angel that she was. How dare the universe betray this beautiful creature in such a way. “No one will ever be mean to you again, Clara, I promise.”

“Deep breaths, Michael, you’re getting warm again.” Whenever Michael got angry the room always seemed to raise more than a few degrees. It was a concern to Clara that he seemed to be losing control more frequently. There was only ever one thing that could bring him back from the brink of anger oblivion. “Go lie down in bed. Naked.” The darkness in his eyes was no longer angry but lustful.

“Clara…” He didn’t want her to be teasing him with what she was offering. Once the idea was implanted in his head, there was no way he could shake it.

“If you don’t listen to me, then you don’t get it.” A look of horror flashed before his eyes as he was hurt that she would deny him his simplest pleasure. When her face showed no signs that she was kidding, he jogged back into his bedroom. He pulled the comforter so it was lying flat on the bed, shedding his clothes and making sure to put them in the hamper before lying on his back on top of it. With his eyes closed, he swallowed thickly in an attempt to steady his heart rate. He always got to taste her when she got into a mood like this. It was all he ever craved in life. The taste of Clara, the woman he loved.

Michael resisted his urge to sit up when she walked in the room. Somewhere along the way she had lost her robe and her sleep clothes, joining him in being naked. His eyes followed her movements like a hawk. He didn’t want to miss a single sway of her hips or a single goosebump popping up on her skin in the cold air of their room. “You’re so pretty,” she whispered as she traced her fingertip along the contours of his face. He leaned into her touch like a mewling cat.

“Thank you,” he whispered back.

“Do you know what one of my favorite parts of you is, Michael?” In his head he was listing all the different things he had ever said she loved about him or had complimented. But he couldn’t think of an instance where she had used the word ‘favorite.’ So he shook his head. “This.” Her finger then traced around his belly button, relishing in the soft skin of his tummy. She loved that Michael was soft in the middle. It was beautiful in contrast to his cheekbones that seemed as they could cut glass. It was the perfect place to rest her head after a long day or rest her hands when Michael had eaten too much and needed a little rub.

“My tummy?” he asked with a look of confusion on his face. She nodded before swinging her leg over his waist so she was straddling the spot in question. Her hips began to roll gently, slowly working up a glistening shine on her pussy and the trail it left on Michael’s skin. He let out a sigh as he cast his eyes downward to watch her actions. His hands rested softly on her thighs, mouth watering as her clit slowly became more visible to him with every swipe of her hips. “Love looking at you like this,” he hummed as his tongue came out to wet his lips.

“Every part of you always feels so good against me, Michael, like you were made to bring me pleasure.” His chest puffed out a little at her compliment.

“I was. My father sent you to me for that reason. You are the final piece to my puzzle.” She moaned at his words. Clara had never known much about Satan or the prophecy of his son until Michael had sat her down and told her. And the way he looked at her, she had believed him. She did believe him. Nothing else could possibly explain the snow falling from the ceiling into his palms. Nothing else could possibly explain the way he cleaned up her spilled coffee with just a wave of his hand. But it didn’t explain why he looked like an angel. Why he looked at her with the softest, most heavenly expression she had ever seen.

Her torso tilted forward slightly so her hands could rest against his chest. The new angle allowed her to hit that tension-building spot with more pressure and regularity. Her mouth fell open with a gasp and as Michael began to feel the trembling in her thighs, he gently began to guide her hips with his hands. “Going to cum for me? Cum so hard I feel it on my skin for days?”

“Yeah,” Clara replied breathlessly as she used his guidance to start rutting against his stomach faster and faster, angling downwards to find that sweet spot to push her over the edge. “Oh God, Michael,” she whined. She was like a cat in heat, furiously looking for the relief of friction as she began to lose control of her own body. Seeing this as an opportunity to help her along, Michael slid a singular finger between her cheeks to gently trace her other hole, Clara falling forward at the act. A high-pitched squeal fell from her lips as every muscle in her body tightened then released. Her orgasmic tremors continued to wave through the muscles of her legs, her hips jolting back with a hiss as her exposed and sensitive clit rubbed against Michael’s arousal slicked stomach.

“Prettiest little thing in the whole world,” he mumbled into her hair as she nuzzled her nose against his neck.

“Should be enough there for you to have a taste.” He had been too focused on the beauty of orgasm that he had forgotten the entire point of this endeavor. Humming with satisfaction, Michael ran his hand along the wet skin and wrapped his lips around as many fingers as he could in order to coat every inch of his tongue with her essence.

“Thank you,” he breathed with a deep sigh of relief, his fingers dipping back down for a second helping. With her head rested on his chest it was almost as if she could hear the gears of his body slowing down to a relaxed hum as if her cum was the oil to keep his machine running smoothly.

“I’d do anything for you, Michael.” Just as he would for her. He had warned her many times that there might come a day when she was forced to pick a side, forced to watch him do something horrible or forced to step aside and let him fight. Clara had already decided within herself that she would always choose Michael. No matter what that entailed. But for now, she was content with loving him and taking care of him. The way a Queen does for her King.

Tags:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

@aveiangdon

@langdvn

@langdonslove

#michael langdon #cody fern #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #duncan shepherd #jim mason

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