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It was no secret that Michael's marriage wasn't the best, it’d been set up for failure since the day Michael had faked his death and started a new life in Los Santos. It was something he had dreamt of for years, wanting nothing more but to be able to afford a luxurious home and give his family the life he never had. A generous lifestyle, with nothing to worry about. He was ignorant, thinking of white picket fences and a big yard with beautiful green grass. But all it did was help break them further apart.
Stuck in ‘witness protection', they had no other choice but to endure each other until their children no longer needed them around. Somehow, the adultery and scandalous lies didn’t end their relationship - but it certainly didn’t help.
He couldn’t even blame her for any of it, she deserved better and he knew it. They were young, and at one point in their lives, they were in love. He still couldn't bring himself to hate her.
The breaking point had been the night Michael received the DNA test results for his darling sugar plum, Tracey.
He should’ve known as soon as he laid eyes on her, her blonde hair and droopy features giving it all away. But Michael was a naive man, and deep down he still wanted Amanda to come crawling back to him. Even after she dragged him through the mud, even after she drained him of all his money and left him for another man. One that could give her everything she’s ever wanted, young and full of life still. A man who didn’t spend the rest of his days stuck in his, self-loathing, doing nothing but sit around the pool or lounge on the couch.
He had it all in his hands, and suddenly everything he’s ever worked for was gone and taken from him in an instant. Their relationship was rocky, and even though they desperately tried to save what little was left of their romance - they ultimately came to a point where anything they did would entangle them in another hopeless dead-end. Both of them were at fault, but Michael knew he was the one pushing it.
He didn't fight when she handed over the divorce papers, taking them in a defeated silence, biting back any hostile remark threatening to slip past his thin lips. It took everything in him to hold his calm, tolerant manner that day- refusing to look at any of his ‘family' members while they moved out of his now-empty mansion.
It was different this time around, the dreaded stillness nothing at all like the first time they all left him. Mainly because he knew there would be no more chances, and that they wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. But every time he dared to even think about it, it always ended with him throwing and destroying expensive furniture in a fit of rage or act of self-pity. He understood now how it could be so therapeutic, after so many years of watching Trevor do the same.
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Now instead of sulking around in his own home, he decided to move the party downtown, content with drinking his sorrows away at the Vanilla Unicorn instead.
It'd been morning when he arrived at the strip club, the intense heat from the burning sun not helping to alleviate the pounding ache behind his eyes. He was still hungover from the night before, the smell of copper and cheap beer permeated the fabrics of his clothes. He was a pathetic man, a ghost of his former self, a loser with nothing else to lose.
But once he stepped foot inside the dark lounge, he was granted just a moment of false happiness, gleaming when he was met with a rush of cool air.
The intoxicating smell of peach body oil instantly filled his nostrils, the atmosphere both familiar and oddly comforting at the same time.
This was all he had now, there was nothing left for him, nothing but women with silicone tits as fake as their personalities were and filthy, meaningless sex that could only numb the pain for so long.
He pulled out the nearest stool, looking over the surface to make sure that there weren’t any strange bodily fluids left behind. “Give me something that’ll do the job fast- and make sure to keep ‘em coming, sweetheart.” He slumped down right in front of the bar, sliding over a few crumbled twenties. He didn't recognize the girl swaying behind the countertop, a voluptuous redhead with almond skin and dark makeup.
She gave him a pitiful look, surveying him with heavy lids and clumped lashes. “You havin' a bad day, sugar?” Her Spanish accent was thick, the glint of her pierced tongue visible every so often, grabbing the attention of Michael's, tired eyes.
He gave her a once over, taking note of her right arm, festooned with inked flowers and vines. Peering back up, he saw her name tag clasped to the front of her crop top, his head tilting to the side to get a good look. ‘Guadalupe.’ Huh, that must've been the new girl Trevor had mentioned awhile back. According to him, the curtains did match the drapes.
“.. Something like that, but hey, I didn’t come here to talk about my feelings and all that crap. I’m going to treat my divorce as a good thing. Think of it as a new eh - chapter in my life. No more annoying wife to worry about, no annoying kids to bother me.” He knew he was lying to himself, saying whatever he could to keep himself from crying like a baby.
She only offered him a forced smile, the corners of her plush lips barely tugging up. He shrugged, licking over his chapped lips while she poured him a much-needed shot of alcohol. The sour taste of leftover whiskey teased his tastebuds, fueling the desire to drink more.
“Mm, whatever you say, it’s none of my business but.. you look like shit.”
He rolled his eyes, shooting his head back to drink up the , bitter liquid- his adam's apple bobbing, the hard sting from the drink leaving his throat raw. “Ahh-” he shook his head, wiping his mouth with the end of his sleeve.
“Come on, I don’t think I look that bad, you know, I could get you to sleep with me. Hell, if I wanted to, I could probably get away with taking all of you lovely ladies back to my place.” Then, she poured him another, and he drank it just as fast.
“Sorry babe, but I’m not the type to sleep around. Maybe some other time.”
“Mm, your loss.” But Michael wasn’t stupid, he just made stupid choices. Tipsy, and already on his fifth gulp, he was starting to regret ever coming here in the first place.
The music became obnoxious, the smell of horny men beginning to overwhelm him, his nose wrinkling and face scrunching up. Every now and then he saw his reflection glaring back at him, his face distorted and lost within the amber of his drink.
His fluff of hair was an unkempt mess, loose strands of silver and black falling in front of his aging face. He was a man who took pride in his appearance no matter where he went, and yet there he was, disheveled and shit-faced. His jawline was blanketed by a sheet of itchy stubble, his grey coat filled with creases and blotted with questionable stains.
He was gradually killing himself, fully aware of the fact that his liver was perhaps nothing but a puddle now. He was convinced that this would be his life from now on, and the idea made him grow queasy. He had his job, sure, but what was the point of making any money when he didn't even know what to spend it on now. He just wasted it all on cancer sticks and booze, but that was it- his daily expenses that aided in his impending doom.
Having already lost the thrill he once relished when he made reckless investments on boats and nice cars. He found himself not knowing what to do with himself, now wasting away. He told Franklin that it was just a phase, one that would blow over once he was done sulking. He just needed to get back up on his feet, but Franklin knew better, and still worried about the older man.
Michael wouldn’t let him help though, after all, Franklin had his own life, and his own family to fret over now. He didn't need to wreck someone else's life, all because he was a selfish asshole.
It still hurt though, a lot more than he'd ever like to admit. And he never realized how lonely he truly was, checking his phone between every drink. No new texts, no miscalls.
..
..
Hours had gone by, and Michael had found himself on a pull-out sofa, one tucked away in the bar's office. He assumed he was in someone's living room for a brief moment. But when his vision was no longer blurry, and he could hear past the deafening static occupying his head, he soon realized that he was still in the club. When he drew his vague fists up to rub his eyes- he also learned he was given a fresh black eye.
He hissed in pain, uttering curses underneath his breath. “What the fuck..?”
“You were bothering my new girl, I knew you were wasted but the bouncer had already gotten his hands on ya.” An amused voice interrupted his thoughts, one he could never forget.
There Trevor was, reclining back in his chair, his feet propped on top of the desk. “Porkchop~! I’m tryna run an actual business here, if you wanna find a cheap fuck just drive around the damn city- seriously, there are girls everywhere, I should know. Mine are uh, just exotic dancers. I mean what do you take me for?”
“Yeah, you’re a real businessman.” Michael heaved a loud sigh, veering around to properly face him. Never in a million years would he had deemed Trevor to be a more sensible man than he was. But he wasn’t the one getting beat up by bouncers in the middle of the day- nor was he intoxicated and looking like a complete mess. Instead, he looked as if he was the one who had his life altogether, for once clean and dressed in decent attire.
Michael wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or to be envious of this revelation. Somewhere along the way, after their big score, Trevor had actually accepted some of Michael's guidance. But oh, how the tables have turned. Trevor would’ve been laughing right in his face if he didn’t feel so bad. It was hard not to, after all, watch Michael fall apart right before his eyes.
“Yeah cupcake, I sure as hell am.” He scooted his chair closer, slouching forward with his hands in his lap. “Y’know I thought you’d be more excited to see me, sugartits. It’s not like I'm trying to kill you or anything, I'm actually taking some initiative like you told me to.” He waggled his bushy brows, attempting to relieve some of the tension between the two men. “See, I'm running an honest business, I'm putting some thought into my appearance for once in my life!”
“I can see that.” He pursed his lips, quickly averting his eyes from his cheerful gaze. Michael was just waiting for Trevor to start poking fun at him, shifting his weight to the other side of the bed. “If you’re going to say something, just say it already.” He let out a short huff of hot air, glaring down at his scuffed loafers. “I’m not in the mood, I already know I look like shit, and that I’m a total fucking failure.”
“Wow, way to ruin the mood.” Trevor scoffed, getting out of his seat to join Michael's side instead, gently bumping shoulders with him. “I was going to crack a few jokes, but you look like you’re about to cry.”
“.. I don’t want to..” he stiffened right up, desperately trying to swallow the lump growing in his throat. His breath grew erratic, hands gripping at the front of his slacks, his chest rising and collapsing with a stifled cry. “I'm sorry, fuck! Don’t look at me, please..”
“God, come here you big baby.” He held his arms out for Michael, making grabby hands. “I won’t laugh at you this time, I promise.”
Michael gave him a suspicious look, obviously hesitant to take up Trevor on his offer- looking at his arms, and up to his face again. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d found himself in Trevor's embrace, but it was still something he secretly feared doing. Only because deep down inside he knew he had romantic feelings for the other man, afraid of the truth somehow coming out.
He couldn’t handle the idea of Trevor abandoning him too, paranoid and believing that he would be disgusted by his little secret. Maybe Michael really was just stupid.
“See, there you go..”
Trevor cooed, stroking his back with a reassuring touch, tracing invisible shapes between his shoulder blades. He didn’t care about anyone else right now, immediately forgetting about all the important things he had to get done that day. He could let Ron handle them, right now he was perfectly content with comforting his dear Michael; his chin resting atop his head. “I know it’s been hard buddy, I know..’
Intimate moments between them were rare, but they were never unwelcomed, even now while they lay on a shabby old mattress. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, T. I - shit, I’ve been acting like a fucking idiot. I’m fucked, I’m fucked !”
He shook his head, squeezing him against himself. “Tch. Yeah, you have been acting like a fuckin' moron. You know damn well that’s my job.” He was only teasing, fingers combing through his thick hairs, subconsciously planting a warm kiss on his forehead. He thought nothing of it, not until Michael suddenly pulled away, his eyes wide and skin turnt red.
“Ah.” Trevor's breath hitched, seemingly at a loss for words. He swallowed, his shoulders drawn up and tensed despite being the reason for the abrupt change in mood. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, he was met with an unexpected kiss- lips crashing and limbs becoming intertwined with one another's. He didn’t know what to make of it, his brain short-circuiting and body moving upon instinct. He was chasing after him now, rolling over so that Michael was on top, grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing.
He wanted it to last forever, sighing breathlessly into their heated kiss, his tongue curling around the others', pushing for dominance. But regardless of what they wanted, they both needed to breathe still.
“Hhholy shit.” Trevor gasped, breaking the kiss to try and catch his breath, swiping at the string of saliva that connected them. “Y’know I’m supposed to be working right now, right sugartits?”
“.. Guess I just got a little excited.” Michael shrugged, his tongue still peeping out from between his ledges.
“A little? Baby, you got me all worked up now, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you off Scott free.” He wasn’t lying either, of course, he wasn’t. The front of his pants were tented up, arousal brewing deep in his core. But he kept himself still for Michael's sake, unwilling to risk scaring him off, hands sitting upon his fat hips.
Michael nodded, inhaling the smell of his cheap cologne. “Alright, alright..” He leaned forward to kiss him again, testing the waters. His kiss was gentle, unlike the first one they shared just now, Trevor meeting his before he drew away to smile, leaving Michael puckering as though teasing him. He chuckled, pulling him back in before Michael got the chance to start complaining, their mouths locking together.
“Mm.” The thicker man was hesitant, careful as he draped his strong arms over his shoulders, sighing when they closed the small gap between them.
The music no longer sounded like music at this point, the lyrics becoming nothing more than meaningless, muffled words. The harsh squeaking from the rusted springs filled the small room every time they moved, their weight shifting and pressing into the mattress.
“Can you..?” Michael was the one who broke their kiss the third time around, his nose buried into the crook of T's neck, short lashes brushing over his skin. “I mean, would you fuck me?”
The fact that he felt the need to ask was enough to drive him mad. Fuck - if only he knew what he was doing to him.
“God.” Trevor stifled a moan, fisting the back of his jacket.
“Is that even a question, Mikey?” He figured Michael was just acting shy because it was most likely his first time doing such a thing. No, Michael wasn’t a virgin, everyone knew he was far from it. But he’d never been with a man before.
If that was the case, Trevor was honored to be his first. Already, he couldn’t get enough of him, desperate and yearning for more, taking whatever he had to offer. He couldn’t help himself, especially when Michael was right there, all for him to enjoy. He was just waiting to get his hands on him now, bringing his hips down to grind his crotch into his. "Just, let me take care of you," Trevor murmured against his forehead, sliding his hand into his briefs to feel his soft, fuzzy skin beneath his palms, only pulling them off once the other man permitted him.
Trevor, by then had decided that he wanted to taste him, touch him, make him cry out his name, and leave him a sobbing mess.
Michael let out a little moan, leaning back slightly to spread his legs for Trevor's access. He was all he wanted, all he needed, his cock twitching eagerly under his touches- Trevor's hands were warm, rough, and calloused from shooting and stabbing, and all he had to do was spit into his hand and stroke Michael to get him squirming. “T- fuck, c'mon, fuck me already," he whined out. “I will, I will. Big baby." He chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss against his face and pulling his hand away from his arousal.
"Bend over the bed, let me eat your ass.” Michael blinked once. Twice. "Fuck no." He shook his head, nose wrinkling in disgust. "I haven't had a shower. You're not putting your mouth there." Trevor rolled his eyes, crawling closer. "Do I look like I care? Let me eat your ass," he huffed, planting both of his hands on either side of Michael’s hips, pinning him down.
"No!" He scoots away again, putting just enough space between them he could stand, crossing his arms and standing before him. "You aren't eating my ass, no way.”
“Why not? I can’t just go in dry.”
"Because. I smell gross, I probably taste gross, and it's just- gross," he scoffed, glaring up at the taller man with a little pout. It seemed Michael wasn't winning, though, because Trevor simply picked him up, threw him back onto the bed, and unceremoniously manhandled him until he was ass up, and Trevor could get his mouth on his puckered hole.
“Ah- asshole ”, The blue-eyed man cursed, glaring back at him with furrowed brows. “You- ah !!”
His mind went blank as soon as T's lips covered his blushing heat, his plush body squirming from how his tongue prodded at the pink ring of muscle. It was amazing how fast Trevor could get him to shut up, honestly, it was a miracle. His raw, musky odor was addicting, and the taste of sweet flesh combined with salty sweat was enough to make him drool- slobbering all over his winking hole. “Mm- fuck, I don’t know what you’re talking about, you taste just fine.” He smirked back at him, ignoring the trail of spit dribbling down his chin, far too horny to worry about being modest.
“You’re fucking gross.”
Michael muttered, squeezing his thighs together in a feeble attempt to hide from Trevor's hungry gaze. “It’s a strip club, I’m pretty sure you have lube somewhere.”
“If you’re not into this, I can always stop if you want me to”, the thinner man cooed playfully, rubbing gently at his slick hole.
“N- No. Keep going”, he bit his lip, yelping when Trevor flipped him right over. “You could've just asked me to move!”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just more fun that way. Especially because you get all red and shit. Only I get to see you like this, got it ?”
Michael looked dumbfounded, peeking back up at him before raising a brow. “I-”, he swallowed audibly, turning his head away. “God, you don’t hold back, huh?”
“No, but you like that about me, don’t you, cupcake?”
Michael huffed and turned his head away, the blush spreading up to his ears and down to his neck, his skin a bright cherry red from embarrassment. "Jesus, you're the fucking worst."
"And?" Trevor smirked, licking another wet stripe between his cheeks and pressing his fingertip against his twitching hole- a slow, gentle pressure to help ease into him. "Relax, sugar, you're too tense.”
"Shit- okay, okay," he growled, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax with long deep breaths. Trevor kept a constant pressure at his hole, which actually helped- he wasn't teasing or moving unexpectedly, letting Michael adjust and accept his finger inside his tight heat. It wasn't a lot since Trevor had long and skinny fingers, but Michael didn't exactly make a habit of putting things in his ass, so even just one finger felt like a lot. But, he did it, and with only minimal bitching. "A-ahh...”
He grinned down at him, his palm over his stomach. "There you to, attaboy... You're so good," he cooed, gently praising him as he worked his finger slowly inside him. God, he was tight, his finger encased in his burning velvety warmth, kissing his soft thighs. "Such a good boy."
"S-shut up, fuck, I'm not-" he growled softly, giving a little kick and squeezing him with his legs. It felt so good, it was making him dizzy. He didn't- he'd never, before, nobody had ever fucked him like this. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, squeezing himself and whining quietly. ‘Shut up. You're being good," he huffed, nipping and sucking his thigh as he curled his finger and slowly worked another into him, tongue working at his rim and moaning gently. Delicious. He kept working his fingers, thumb resting right under his balls and pressing as he thrust them inside. "Sweet boy... Mm, where is it-" he curled them just right, bumping up against his prostate and watching Michael's reaction.
"Shit-" He gasped sharply, thrusting up into the air and gripping the sheets tightly. "You- fuck, motherfucker, what was that?" "That, Mikey dearest, is the male G-spot. It feels good, yeah? You want more?"
"... yeah.”
He grinned crookedly, curling his fingers again to nail him in the same spot, watching him react in the exact same way as before, even louder than before. Oh, this was good. He was so good, his good boy, letting Trevor fuck him on his fingers. “God, why haven't we done this already?”
He couldn't even respond, too caught up in the pleasure of getting his ass wrecked by his lanky fingers, thighs shaking, and cock dripping glossy clear pre. "Hah- fuck, T- fuck- 's good- oh-”
"You think that's good, you should try my cock."
"Shut- shut up- fuck me," he cried, shaking and kicking gently at him. "Fuck me, fuck, please-”
“Your wish is my command.”
He gave his ass a hard squeeze, sliding his fingers out of his gaping hole, leaving poor Michael empty and begging for more. “ Ah, shit..” The smaller man hiccuped, his head turned away from him, scowling at a random stain on the wall.
He didn’t think it was possible, but he was falling more in love with his ‘best friend’, his heart skipping a beat and doing backflips from the scene unraveling before him. He looked stunning lying there, his gorgeous sapphire eyes filled with hot glistening tears, his thick thighs spread wide open just for him, inviting him to leave them peppered with bruises and fresh bite marks. He wanted to mark every part of his body, to own him, and to show everyone else just that.
He had to restrain himself from tearing right into him, his muscles flexing while he leaned forward to bury himself between his soft pecks, an intense growl beginning to rumble deep in his chest. “ Get ready.”
Michael gulped, pushing himself to look back in Trevor's direction, twitching impatiently. “ I - I am, you fuck.”
“ I know I ain’t much, but I haven’t gotten any complaints yet”, He grinned at his own comment, hurrying to unzip his pants, and step out of them before tossing them into a random corner of his office. Next, he pulled the front of his leopard-print thong down, sighing in relief now that his cock was free.
The other man gasped, watching in awe. Truth be told, he was frightened by how his cock seemingly sprung to life, the tip pink and wet from pre bubbling at the slit. It was like an animal springing out of the woods, the way his cock stood from his nest of dark curls. “ You like?”
If he didn’t shut up…
“ God- just come here already, please. Shit. ”
“Alright, alright-”
He stepped in front of him, standing between his legs and leaning in to kiss him. But of course, Michael couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed his hair and dragged him down, pressing all his soft, lush curves against his body- coaxing a low moan from T. His skin was hot and damp, making them stick together. “ Fuck, Mikey..” He nibbled at his bottom lip, gently tugging it between his crooked teeth, grinding himself into his welcoming warmth. Sweet Michael cried out against his lips and was lost. Trevor was just as mesmerized, the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him so close against him, skin to skin. Time and space had no meaning anymore. There was only Michael.
Mikey arched and stretched beneath his lover, cupping the back of his head to hold him close, afraid to let go as Trevor breached his insides. He was seven inches at most, nowhere near as big as the one hidden between their hairy bellies. But still, it was enough to make him cry.
Slowly, he rolled his hips, his hands fumbling to find Michael's. His hands were noticeably bigger than the hic's, softer too. Everything about this man was perfect and he didn't even know it. It looked like it was up to Trevor to show him just how good he truly was.
So far, he was doing a fine job of doing just that.
The once-married man was a shaking mess, no longer even kissing him, only sticking his tongue out to brush tips- his hands barely holding the others'. He tried to follow Trevor's thrusts, but he could hardly even function now, his eyes flickering and fluttering shut- moaning breathlessly against his puffy lips. "Shh... It's okay," he soothed softly, kissing up to his neck and nibbling gently under his chin. "Good boy... I got you, so good, you’re taking me so well”, T whispered, lips pressing into the soft dip behind his ear. "Such a good boy, M, I got you. So good for me...”
His voice was rough, but comforting- reeling Michael out of his world and blank state of mind. “ I - I think I love you-”
He choked out, his cries gradually increasing in volume, the rock of their hips growing faster, too. “Please-”
Finally
“ I love you," he whispered right back, reaching up to take Michael's face into his hands and draw him into a rushed kiss. "I love you, I-I want- you, I want you, Mike, please.” Michael tightened around him, reaching up to grab ahold of his wrists, his blunt fingernails biting into his tanned skin. “ Ah —!”
Trevor squeezed his face, his deep smoldering brown eyes staring right into Michael's glowing blues, his breathing hard and heavy as their hips rocked together. The mess of blankets pooled around their hips, chests pressed practically flush together. His heart was racing, and he could feel Michael's thumping away in his chest, a solid reminder that he was alive; that they were both alive, their fates entwined,
neither seemingly able to function without the other to balance the weight.
If only they had realized sooner.
A rush of white flashed behind Michael's eyes, his orgasm intense as he ultimately came right onto Trevor's stomach.
Trevor was quick to follow, his muscles tensing up and grip tightening on Michael.
“Ahn-" he whimpered, letting out a muffled string of praise and sweet words as he landed, hips jerking to fuck himself deep into Michael and flood his glorious heat. He was shaking just from the intensity, panting hard and squeezing him tight in his slender arms, kissing him very sloppily now. Their tongues were entwined, drool on their chins, teeth occasionally clicking together.
“F- Fuckin' A..”
Michael breathed out, his back arching against the mattress, unused to the feeling of Trevor’s dick softening inside of him. That was something that’d take some time to get used to, unfortunately. He'd also have to put up with feeling so heavy now that Trevor pumped him full of his hot liquid. “Ah, Christ, I need a shower.”
“Yeah, you fucking stink”, T smiled, running his hand through his black tangles- snorting when Michael pushed his head away.
“You smell just as bad as I do, guess our only option is to shower together. It’s just me at my place.”
“Mm, guess so. Maybe I should spend the night too, it’s getting late, anyways.”
“You know what T, I think you should.”
…