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Nothing good was on the TV. It was all reruns of shows he'd already seen, news programs broadcasting the same negativity, or infomercials. Mike looked up as Michael came to join him on the couch.
"Ooh, wine," he commented at the bottle in Michael's hand, tone gently teasing. It was fairly rare for Michael to drink, but when he did, Mike liked to joke that he had the tastes of a suburban mom. It was always something fruity, cheap without tasting like motor oil. Michael didn't find it as funny as he did. "On a week night?"
Michael just shrugged, smiling just a little as he sat on the couch next to Mike. "Feeling wild," he said sarcastically. "It's the weekend somewhere, or whatever they say."
"It's five o'clock somewhere?"
"Whatever." The word was dismissive but there was only the faint playfulness in Michael's tone. "Don't be a smartass."
"You know how much I love to," Mike chuckled faintly. "And you love it."
"Only in certain circumstances." They both knew what those circumstances were.
Mike shifted his attention. "I see you didn't bring a glass with you."
"I was thinking we could just drink straight out of the bottle," Michael said as airily as he could muster. Hopefully, he wouldn't really be the one drinking.
This was a little bit of a revenge mission. Michael was a lightweight, and he knew it. Mike was not, and he made it his mission to tease Michael about it any time they drank together. Well, Michael was going to sit here and see to it that Mike got damn well drunk so that he had some ammunition in his cannon for the next time.
"We?" Mike's voice challenged him.
"You look like you could use a drink."
"Oh, I do, do I?" His voice was amused.
Michael was unperturbed. "You look pretty uptight to me. Could afford to loosen up a bit."
Very funny coming from Michael, but for the purposes of this interaction, they both chose to ignore that.
"What if I don't want a drink?" There was the shift in Mike's tone as he caught onto the game Michael was playing.
"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" Michael replied, leaning closer. "Come on, be good, have one drink with me."
"No," Mike sighed, pushing at Michael's shoulder, but it wasn't a hard push, and they both knew full well that Mike could shut this down without question if he wanted to.
"No?" Michael replied, more intensely.
"Yeah, no. Do you need a dictionary for that word?"
Faster than he looked, Michael had swung himself over Mike's legs so he was straddling Mike's lap. The hand not holding the bottle pushed one of Mike's shoulders back against the couch. "Want to say that again to me?"
Mike wasn't backing down, and his gaze was insolent. "Sure, let me explain it. N-O. No. As in, not yes. As in, you can't make me drink with you."
Michael's eyes narrowed as he smiled. "Want to make a bet on that?"
He let go of Mike's shoulder and unscrewed the cap of the wine, continuing, "Even if you don't want to drink, you're going to sit here and watch."
He tossed the cap aside and looked at Mike with a faint glimmer in his eyes. Maintaining eye contact, he pressed his tongue against the neck of the bottle, starting at the bottom and licking slowly, painstakingly up, allowing his tongue to curl just slightly against the glass. Mike's inhale was audible.
Michael made a show of taking the first sip, swallowing part of it so his throat flexed convincingly, and then he leaned in to kiss Mike.
Mike resisted a little, at first, but once Michael grabbed his chin and held him firm, he allowed it. As soon as he opened his mouth a bit to permit Michael to progress the kiss further, Michael enacted his plan and tilted Mike's head up, letting the rest of the wine that had been behind his teeth spill into Mike's mouth.
The other man coughed and sputtered, red dripping from his mouth as he glared, or at least pretended to glare, at Michael. "You're evil."
"Maybe-" zero remorse, "-but look, now you've had a taste, right, Mike?" Michael wheedled, moving his hand down so his thumb and middle finger slipped into the hollows behind Mike's jaw on either side of his face, the others spreading across Mike's skin to hold him tight as best they could. "What's one more? To be good?"
"Or what? You'll force me to drink it?"
"Didn't I just do that?"
"That didn't count, that was a trick."
Michael couldn't stop the self-satisfied smirk. "Oh, well then, let me be more obvious."
His hand moved up quickly and dug against Mike's jaw, forcing it open. The switch to manhandling made the man beneath him buck a little in protest.
"Behave," Michael told him firmly.
When Mike rolled his eyes, Michael decided that was enough of that and tipped the bottle over Mike's mouth, watching the wine spilling over his tongue and down his throat while he jerked against Michael's grip.
After just a second, Michael let up, allowing Mike to close his mouth and recover a bit. He didn't want to drown Mike before they'd even started doing anything really fun.
"Let me know how it tastes to you," he said casually, taking another sip as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
"I don't know, I didn't really get to savor it," Mike replied after a few coughs.
"Let's try again then." He pressed the mouth of the bottle against Mike's lips.
Mike's mouth tightened stubbornly until the pressure from Michael's fingers gave him a warning, then he reluctantly opened up.
"Good," Michael told him. "But you can do better."
Maybe he poured a little longer than he should have, maybe he did it to watch Mike thrash just a little in his grasp. The dark liquid spilled over Mike's lips and then onto his shirt, which was thankfully black, before Michael let up.
Mike gasped in a deep breath as soon as he'd swallowed what he could, excess continuing to soak the fabric of his tee. He seemed content to try to catch his breath for a moment, though his stare at Michael out of the corner of his eye communicated clearly his feelings of frustration.
"What's wrong, can't handle it?" Michael cooed in a mocking tone. "Need to tap out?"
"No," Mike gritted out. "But if you get wine on my couch, I'm gonna be pissed."
"Oh, I'll be careful. I mean, you should probably take off your shirt now, hmm, since it's got wine on it? We wouldn't want any of that to soak into the couch."
Mike snorted a breath through his nose at the admittedly transparent request, but he didn't say anything defiant for once as he tugged the dark fabric over his head, tossing it onto the hardwood floor. Just faintly, Michael could see residue from the wine that had soaked through on Mike's skin, creating an admittedly appealing sheen.
"See, much better," Michael told him, very softly running his thumb over Mike's collarbone.
Mike seemed aware of the difference between his bare chest and Michael's, that he was now the more exposed one. His arms crossed, fixing Michael with an icy stare, clearly regaining some of his former nerve.
But as soon as he opened his mouth to talk back, Michael was there to cut him off with a mouthful of alcohol, not as big this time but still enough to shut him up.
"Sorry, I thought you were asking for a taste," Michael grins maliciously.
"Keep this up, and I'll be stumbling drunk before you know it."
"Oh no…" Michael said sarcastically. "I wonder what it feels like to be made fun of for how quickly you get drunk."
Mike's eyes flashed with a mix of humor, embarrassment, and realization. "Is that what this is about? Because you get drunk so easy?"
"Maybe. Wouldn't you like to know?"
Each time Mike tried to respond, Michael would counter it with another sip, until Mike finally, finally learned just to keep his mouth shut.
"There we go," Michael murmured. "See, isn't it easier when you talk less and listen to me more?"
Another sip as Mike's mouth opened as if for some reason he thought he could speak this time. Mike's face was turning a deep pink edging into red, one of the first signs that the alcohol was getting to him.
"Careful, you wouldn't want to make yourself sick," Michael reprimanded like Mike was the one with the bottle in his hand, like Michael wasn't forcing the drink down his throat, occasionally missing Mike's lips by a little bit so his chin and chest were slick with red.
"You look good in red," Michael told him, swiping a fleeing droplet off of Mike's sternum and licking it off his fingers. The wine almost reminded him of blood, and his brain toyed ideally with the very seductive idea of Mike covered in blood, but that was a thought for another day.
Mike laughed weakly, voice sounding a bit distorted already . He reached forward and Michael allowed Mike to grab his face and pull him in.
Mike's mouth moved against his, licking red across Michael's own lips and pushing the taste of the alcohol into his mouth. Michael liked the first taste he received; he got more aggressive, licking against Mike's tongue, teeth, like he was trying to taste every single bit of the wine that had been in Mike's mouth, fruity and heady and just as delicious as it was straight out of the bottle.
As soon as they separated, he held Mike's mouth open again and poured, so he could replenish what he'd just stolen from the kiss and more. Then he took another sip of his own and spat it into Mike's mouth. He wasn't trying to be sneaky this time, only intentionally degrading and commanding and Mike loved it, Michael could tell from the way he blinked lazily and hummed deep in his throat.
Michael held up the bottle. They were about halfway there, which seemed surprising to him. "Think you can finish off this whole bottle?"
Mike nodded, a little off-kilter. "I can do it. Let me do it."
Michael couldn't help but point out, "Wow, weren't you just telling me about how you would never drink with me? And now here you are, asking for the rest of it."
Mike grinned, crooked and wide. "Changed my mind."
"I'm sure you did," Michael told him patronizingly, allowing himself a bit more of the drink as he studied the way Mike leaned into his touch now, how Mike's tongue wet his lips every few minutes.
He held for a longer pause, just to make sure he didn't cause any actual issues with the quantity and speed of the drink being given to Mike. Mike didn't seem to mind, content to just sit and look at Michael.
Michael loved tipsy Mike, when he was just barely beginning to cross over into real intoxication territory. He became so much more pliable, willing to do what Michael wanted, and his gaze held a spark of adoration every time.
"Just a little more to go," he lied, giving Mike another few swallows. Mike didn't remove his eyes from Michael's face, but he nodded. The other advantage of alcohol was that it broke Mike's bratty behavior far quicker than anything else. Michael enjoyed taking his time and forcing Mike to surrender most days, but there was something inherently gratifying about having Mike just dissolve from a drink.
He moved his free hand to Mike's hair, working his fingers absently through the short curls.
Mike was beginning to look actually impatient, his stare flicking from Michael's face, to the bottle, to Michael. Michael supposed Mike thought he was being subtle. He indulged in the desire, allowing Mike a little more, tilting his head back with the hand that was in his hair. Mike grinned with his mouth open at the touch, cheeks blushing a color that just confirmed that red looked good on him.
When Michael pulled the bottle away, Mike chased it a bit, looking up at Michael pleadingly before his eyes went back to the object of his desire. He wanted to finish it to prove himself; Michael knew Mike well enough to deduce that, and he couldn't really bring himself to want to hinder that. Mike looked good when he was allowing himself these sorts of feelings, when he was only really worried about how Michael was seeing him, and not the opinions of himself or anyone else.
"Feeling okay?" He asked with humor in his tone at the way Mike's eyes rolled to meet his.
"Yeah." Mike's current grin was twice as crooked as before.
Michael couldn't help it, he kissed Mike again just to feel how much messier the other had gotten, less coordinated.
"Mmm, thank you," Mike said, voice a little blurry, as soon as Michael pulled away.
"My pleasure," Michael said, honest with that one, and then he held the bottle up to the light, looking at the level of drink left. "You want to finish this all in one go for me?" There wasn't too much left and if he was being honest, Michael was eager to get on to the next part of the program.
Mike nodded eagerly, and Michael tilted his chin one final time. The last of the wine flowed into Mike's mouth, who did his best to gulp it down quickly, face contorting as Michael poured more than he could swallow in one go.
Who would Michael be if he didn't test Mike just a little bit, right at the end?
Despite that, only a bit of the wine managed to leak out, though more droplets fell onto Mike's chest when he was able to lower his face again, panting with his mouth half-open.
"You did so good," Michael told him after setting the bottle aside, hands smoothing over Mike's shoulders. Mike shuddered at the praise and smiled.
"Thanks," he replied, and there was definitely just a bit of an audible slur now.
Michael's eyes went to the trickles of wine that were still slowly making their way towards Mike's belly, and he decided there was only way to fix that.
He shuffled off of Mike's lap until he was kneeling between Mike's legs, and pressed his tongue against the red that had been attempting to escape.
It was even better on Mike, with the way that the taste of the wine combined with the salt of Mike's sweat.
Mike all but squirmed under Michael's touch, and Michael could feel the muscles of Mike's stomach and chest flexing involuntarily under his tongue as he worked to lap up every last trace of the wine that had spilled. Mike muttered something hazily that Michael didn't catch.
When his hands went to the interior of Mike's thighs and his eyes traveled further downwards, he was a little surprised and a little flattered to realize that Mike was more than halfway to hard despite the alcohol coursing through his system.
"Want me to take care of this for you?" he teased, mostly just wanting to hear Mike speak with the stupor that made everything sound so much softer.
"Fuck, yes," was the answer he got, though a little less coherent. That was all the encouragement he needed before he worked to get Mike all the way naked on the couch, with some help from Mike's unsteady hands.
Michael wanted to take his time, but a larger portion of him was telling him to do this now, to stop messing around and finally give the both of them what they wanted.
The mental picture of that was hot enough that the last bit of resistance gave out, and he began to lap at Mike's dick to help coax it to fully hard, working his tongue all the way up, until Mike's thighs were twitching beneath his hands. He took that as a sign to get started with the real stuff, and just barely hesitated, breath ghosting over the tip of Mike's dick before he committed to it.
He moved to swallow Mike down as much as he could, having to pause a few times to breath through his nose and adjust. Mike didn't seem to be complaining, mostly just looking relaxed and interested above Michael.
Michael wrapped his hand around what little of Mike's dick he couldn't fit without triggering his gag reflex before pulling almost all the way off and repeating his prior action, a little faster this time. Then again, a little faster still, getting used to the sensation of Mike sliding over his tongue, the flavor of the wine that still clung to his taste buds drowning out everything else.
Mike's breaths were half-noise, now, quiet, wordless sounds of encouragement that made it all worth it, to see Mike with his mouth half-open and his eyes half-shut like he couldn't make up his mind, and feel the weight of his dick in Michael's mouth.
Michael himself got lost in the motions, in the steady, consistent movements, the alcohol that very slightly ran through him as well, and the comforting warmth of Mike's skin all around him.
He wasn't really sure how long they were like that, both in their own worlds that they simultaneously shared with each other, but eventually Mike's tone pitched up a bit.
"Fuck, okay," Mike muttered under his breath, fingers twitching against the cushions of the couch, which Michael took to be a good sign.
He applied himself a little more, stretching his abilities a bit further than normal, wanting to make sure Mike enjoyed himself for being good enough to allow Michael to do this to him. After a moment, Mike's hand reached out and he pushed faintly against Michael's head, a warning.
Michael debated just finishing Mike off with his hand, but he felt like that wasn't enough, he wanted to make Mike feel good. So as Mike's legs tensed and the head of his dick met the back of Michael's throat, he allowed it, and it was more than worth it for the unintelligible noise and the expression on Mike's face when he came.
Michael squeezed his eyes shut, thankful that he could still mostly taste just wine as he swallowed down Mike's cum, as much as he was able to. Mike definitely seemed to love that, even through the fog.
As soon as Mike relaxed again, he was pushing Michael gently off of his dick and then pulling the taller man up, kissing him slowly but with an intense burn behind it, not minding the taste of his own cum.
As soon as they separated for breath, Mike grinned. "Was good. That was good."
"Oh, yeah?" Michael replied, amused. "I'm glad. And see, we didn't even get any wine on the couch."
"Thank God," Mike sighed, clearly making an effort to pull more of himself back together. "Having to explain that…would be difficult."
"Disaster averted. And now we should probably get you to bed." Honestly, he was lucky Mike had held out this far; drinking had a tendency to put him right to sleep. It was part of why they didn't do it often, but Michael was so glad they had tonight.
"That sounds nice. 'S long as you come with."
Michael gave Mike a mock scowl. "I always do."
Mike nodded and just continued to hold Michael close. They could stay here for a few more minutes, Michael supposed. It wasn't as if the bed would run away. Just a few more minutes…