stuck in motion ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚
.✦ ݁˖ descriptions: you find yourself trapped in a tiny elevator with your ex, michael. where years of hidden resentment explode into a night of wild, relentless passion before management tears you apart.
content: 18+, smut, trapped in elevator, public?sex, toxic exes, softbutverydom!michael, bad!era, they both nasty and toxic asf bro 🤍
╰┈➤ the glass doors of the grand hotel ballroom hissed open, spilling out gold light, jazz standard rehearsals, and the suffocating perfume of high-society press events. you kept your stride steady, your heels clicking in a sharp, rhythmic cadence against the polished marble floor. wrapped tightly around your shoulders was a heavy, plush hotel throw blanket—a desperate shield against the chill of the midnight air you were so eager to step into.
behind you, you could feel his eyes. you didn’t need to look. you’d known the distinct, heavy weight of michael’s gaze since you were sixteen years old—long before the fedoras, the single glove, and the crushing gravity of global stardom.
twice tonight he’d tried to close the gap. once near the champagne fountain, stepping out from a cluster of suit-and-tie executives with that quiet, disarming smile. you’d turned on your heel, pretending to spot a friend across the room. the second time was near the balcony doors; he’d murmured your name, low and pitched only for you, but you’d kept walking, letting the crowd swallow you whole.
by 10:45 pm, you’d finally slipped away up to your suite, stripping out of the restrictive gown and pulling on a silk pajama set, keeping the thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. your head was buzzing. you needed air. grabbing your pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the nightstand, you headed down the carpeted hallway toward the elevators, desperate for a quiet smoke on the ground terrace.
at 10:58 pm, the brass doors slid open.
you nearly walked straight into a chest clad in a soft, oversized waffle-knit top and a loose black knit cardigan. michael stumbled back slightly, a glass of orange juice tilting dangerously in his right hand. a few drops splashed over the rim, barely missing the hem of your pajama pants.
"whoa—watch it!" you snapped, instinctively taking a step back, your hand flying up to hold the blanket tight around your chest.
michael steadied the glass, his dark eyes widening in surprise before settling into that familiar, infuriatingly smooth composure. he stepped out onto the carpet, turning his whole body toward you.
"my fault, my fault," he said softly, his voice gentle, almost melodic. he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on the silk fabric peeking out beneath the heavy blanket. "i wasn't expecting..."
you rolled your eyes and went to step around him into the empty elevator cab. the heavy doors began their slow crawl inward to close, but michael’s hand shot out, catching the rubber edge and forcing them back open.
his eyes locked onto the white pack of cigarettes clutched tight in your fingers. his brow furrowed, instantly dropping the easy demeanor for a sudden, sharp spike of irritation.
"you're still doing that?" he criticized, pointing an index finger at the pack. "you know what those do to your lungs. you promised me years ago you’d quit."
"and you promised me you’d mind your own damn business," you shot back without missing a beat, clutching your blanket tighter. "you don't get to lecture me, michael. not anymore."
michael sneered playfully, stepping right through the threshold into the car with you. "just saying. it's a nasty habit." he let his eyes rake over your silk pajamas again, a subtle, slow smirk curving his lips. "though... i gotta admit. you look good. pajamas and a giant blanket suit you."
"you wasn't invited in here," you said, shifting your weight and pressing your thumb against the panel to hit the lobby button.
"i invited myself," he said smoothly, leaning his shoulder against the mirrored back wall, taking a slow sip of his orange juice.
"get out, michael." you slammed your finger on the door open button.
the doors shuddered and started to part. michael reached over your shoulder, his broad chest lightly brushing your back, and jammed the door close button.
"michael!"
you jammed open. he jammed close. you hit open again, your elbow shoving his arm out of the way. he laughed—that rich, throaty sound that used to make your chest ache—and pushed his way back to the panel.
"stop it, you're being childish—"
"you started it!"
"i am trying to go downstairs!" you lunged for the panel, but michael blocked you with his forearm. in his eagerness to keep the doors shut, he didn't just press the button—he slammed his wide, heavy palm flat against the brass control box.
a loud, mechanical clack echoed up the shaft. the elevator lurched violently. the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and died, replaced instantly by the low, warm amber glow of the emergency panel. the car shuddered to a dead stop between floors.
silence heavy enough to drown in filled the metal box.
you stared at the panel, then turned your head slowly to glare at him. "tell me you didn't."
michael blinked, looking down at his palm, then up at the dark ceiling, and finally back at you. he set his glass of orange juice carefully on the small handrail behind him.
you marched to the control board and slapped the red help/emergency button. a high-pitched alarm buzzed through the speaker, followed by absolute static. you held it down. nothing. you pressed it again.
"hello? is anyone on this line? we're stuck between floors!"
only the faint hum of static answered. a small plaque below the speaker caught the dim light: emergency line monitored 6:00 am – 11:00 pm.
it was 11:02 pm.
you let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, dropping your head against the cool stainless steel wall. "unbelievable. we're stuck here until morning."
michael leaned back against the mirrored wall, crossing his arms over his cardigan. a slow, genuinely delighted smile spread across his face, his dark eyes glinting in the amber light.
"well," he murmured, his voice laced with shameless satisfaction. "i guess we are."
"don't look so happy, you idiot," you hissed, unwrapping the thick plush blanket from your shoulders and spreading it out across the carpeted floor so you wouldn't have to sit directly on the hotel rug. you slid down against the wall, sitting on the edge of the blanket, pulling your knees up to your chest. "you broke the lift."
"i didn't break it, you were fighting me!" michael protested, sitting down on the opposite corner of your blanket, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "if you had just let me talk to you at the party instead of treating me like a ghost all night, we wouldn't even be in this elevator."
"talk to me?" you let out a dry spike of laughter. "michael, what was there to talk about? you didn't talk to me when we were together. why start now?"
"that's not fair," he countered, his quiet tone giving way to the raw edge of old frustrations. "i was working! i was trying to build something legendary. i was locked into the music, into the vision—"
"you were locked into your own damn head!" you turned your head to lock eyes with him, the years of accumulated resentment bubbling straight to the surface. "we dated since we were sixteen years old, mike! i supported every single dream you ever had. but the second thriller blew up and you started planning the bad era, i completely ceased to exist to you. you were so consumed by your career, so blinded by your own ambitions, that you didn't even notice you were leaving me behind!"
"i did everything for us!" michael snapped, shifting closer on the blanket, his fingers digging into the plush fabric. "i was securing our future! i wanted you by my side for all of it!"
"no, michael, you wanted an ornament!" you yelled, your voice cracking slightly in the small space. "i had my own life, my own career, my own success! but every time i was with you, i was made to feel like i was just in the way of your precious schedules and studio time. you didn't give me the love or attention i deserved. i gave you my youth, and you treated me like a distraction to your master plan!"
silence fell over the elevator again, heavy and thick with the ghosts of their past. michael’s jaw was tight, his chest heaving under his waffle-knit shirt. he stared at you, the anger slowly draining from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, painful realization that hit him like a physical blow.
he looked down at his socks, his voice dropping an octave, losing its sharp edges as the clock ticked past 11:30 pm. "you felt... like you were in the way?"
"i knew i was in the way," you whispered, turning your face toward the steel wall. "and i had too much pride to keep begging for crumbs of your time."
michael swallowed hard, the silence stretching long and agonizing before he spoke again, his voice barely audible. "you burned my shirts."
you blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift. "...what?"
"when you moved your stuff out of the house," he mumbled, a tiny, reluctant twitch appearing at the corner of his mouth despite the heavy air. "you took three of my favorite vintage button-downs and burned them in the backyard fire pit. bill told me."
you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back the sudden, ridiculous urge to smile through the lingering sting in your chest. "they were ugly."
"they were custom, you absolute menace," michael shook his head, a soft, breathy laugh escaping his lips. "you always had the worst temper."
"and you were always an instigating, oblivious child," you retorted, though the venom was entirely gone from your tone.
as the midnight hour arrived at 12:00 am, the shift in the air became undeniable. the anger had burned itself out, leaving behind a raw, aching hollow that five years of separation hadn't managed to fill.
michael shifted, crawling slightly closer until he was sitting right beside you on the blanket, his shoulder resting against yours. the warmth radiating off his body was overwhelming.
"i was so foolish," he said softly, his long fingers tracing the stitched pattern of the blanket between you. "i was so obsessed with reaching the top, with making history... i was so locked into my dreams that i didn't see i was losing the only person who actually loved me for me. i took you for granted. god, i was so blind."
you looked at his side profile—the sharp jawline, the soft curls falling over his forehead, the deep shadow of regret in his dark eyes.
"i missed how quiet you get when you're actually happy," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "not the superstar michael. just... mike. the guy who used to steal my fries at the drive-thru."
michael let out a low chuckle, turning his head to look at you. his dark eyes were warm, liquid, reflecting the dim emergency amber lights. "you know... i wrote lady in my life about you back then. but sitting here tonight... remembering everything... i feel like one day i'm gonna write a whole song about this. about us. just sitting down and saying, 'do you remember the time?' remembering sixteenth street. remembering the hideout behind the garage. remembering you."
your breath hitched. "michael..."
"remember that night in chicago?" he whispered, sliding closer until his knee was pressed against your thigh, his tone dropping into something thick, slow, and dark. "when we locked ourselves in the back room of that studio? you were wearing that red velvet dress... and you wouldn't let me touch you until i promised to take you out for pizza at two in the morning?"
a sudden, hot spike of memory shot straight through your lower belly. "michael, don't..."
"and remember what i did to you on that couch once you finally let me?" he continued, his voice dropping even lower, husky and smooth, raspy at the edges. his dark eyes fixed onto your lips, unblinking. "how you screamed so loud into my shoulder because you were afraid the engineers outside would hear us? you begged me to stop, but every time i pulled back, you wrapped your legs right around my waist and pulled me right back in."
"stop..." you breathed, but your hands didn't push him away. they clutched the edges of the blanket beneath you.
"you remember how good it felt," michael murmured, slipping off his cardigan and tossing it aside, leaving him in just his thin shirt that stretched tightly over his broad shoulders. he reached out, his long, slender fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you inches closer. "you think about it just like i do. five years... five damn years of sitting in empty hotel rooms, wishing it was your body under mine instead of nothing."
"you're awful," you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs like a wild animal.
"i'm desperate," he corrected softly, his thumb sweeping over your lower lip, pressing down just enough to part your mouth. "i'm so fucking down bad for you, it makes me sick."
the dam broke.
when his lips crashed onto yours, it wasn't gentle—it was a fierce, consuming collision of five years of unspent passion, longing, and bitter grief. teeth clashing, tongues tangling, your hands instantly fisting into his soft, dark curls, dragging him down onto you so hard your skulls almost collided. michael groaned, a low, heavy sound vibrating from his chest as he pushed you back onto the plush blanket, his tall frame hovering over yours before settling flush against you. the sudden shift rattled the metal elevator walls with a loud, hollow thud, the vibrations echoing in the cramped, enclosed space.
his hands were everywhere at once, clumsy with a frantic, desperate speed to make up for lost time. he dragged your silk pajama top up over your head, the fabric catching against your hair before he tore it free and tossed it onto the carpet. his dark eyes, blown wide with lust, raked over your bare chest in the warm amber glow of the emergency panel.
"look at you," he breathed, his voice raw, raspy, completely stripped of his public polish. sweat was already glistening on his collarbones. "god, you're so beautiful... look at what you do to me, girl. i missed this so much. i missed every single inch of you, mama."
he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips hot against your skin before his teeth bit down hard—right at the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder. you gasped, an involuntary high moan ripping from your throat as your back arched off the blanket, your bare skin coming into contact with the freezing, sterile stainless steel of the elevator wall. the sudden shock of ice-cold metal against your burning, feverish back made you shudder violently.
"mike—"
before you could finish, his hand slid down the waistband of your silk pajama pants, dragging them down your thighs along with your panties in one rough, impatient yank. he kicked them free, leaving you completely bare beneath him on the thick blanket.
michael didn't wait. he stripped off his waffle-knit top, tearing it over his shoulders, and shoved his trousers down. his lean, defined chest was flushed red, a thin sheen of sweat making his skin slick.
he grabbed your wrist, slamming your palm flat against his chest right over his hammering heart. "touch me, mama. touch me right here. feel what you do to me. tell me i ain't crazy for wanting you like this."
"i missed you," you sobbed out softly, your fingers digging into his damp back, your nails leaving deep, red crescent marks along his spine. "mike, please..."
"say it right," he rasped, his breath hot and heavy against your earlobe, his hand sliding down between your thighs. he knew your body better than anyone else ever could—his fingers instantly found the exact, sensitive spot he used to drive you insane with when you were teenagers. he slipped two fingers straight inside you, slicking himself with your heat. "tell me what you want me to do to you on this floor, baby. tell me how bad you need this dick after five years. tell me if anyone else ever touched you like this."
"nobody!" you whimpered, rolling your hips up against his hand, the wet, squelching sound of his fingers working you open echoing off the steel walls. "nobody, michael! fuck me... stop talking and just fuck me!"
michael let out a dark, breathless chuckle, his fingers digging deep, stretching you, slicking your inner thighs until you were writhing, completely undone. "that's what i thought... look at how wet you are for me, mama. all this slick... you been saving this all for me?"
he guided his thick tip to your entrance, his broad hips resting between your trembling legs. he stared down into your eyes, his dark pupils reflecting the amber light, burning with a terrifying, possessive intensity.
"you're mine," he whispered fiercely, his voice trembling with years of suppressed hunger. "you were always mine, girl. nobody else gets to touch this. only me."
with one deep, relentless push, he buried himself all the way inside you to the hilt.
you threw your head back against the blanket, a loud, breathless scream tearing from your throat, but michael caught it, slamming his mouth over yours, swallowing your cry and tasting his own name on your tongue as he began to move. his rhythm was heavy, deep, and completely unhurried, driving into you with a desperate, heavy drag that made your entire body tremble.
"ah... fuck, you feel so good," michael groaned against your neck, his hands pinning your wrists to the blanket above your head. his breath was coming in ragged, shallow gasps, sweat dripping from his temple onto your chest. "so tight... so wet... taking every single inch of me, mama..."
he began to dig you out, angling his hips down, finding that sweet spot high inside you and hammering into it with relentless, punishing precision. every stroke was a confession, every heavy plunge driving deeper until you were weeping, your head thrashing against the floor.
"you feel that?" michael rasped, his voice thick, dirty, and heavy against your temple. "that's all you, baby. all mine. talk to me... tell me how good it feels to have me deep inside you again."
"mike—oh god, mike!" you cried out, your moans echoing loudly in the tiny metal box, the heavy slap of his hips against yours sounding thick and wet in the enclosed space.
"i got you," he whispered frantically, his lips moving down your jawline, his wet chest sliding against yours. he slowed his thrusts just a fraction, leaning over you so his dark, heavy gaze held yours captive. "let me see that pretty face you’d always make when you let go for me, mama. show it to me..."
he drove up deep into that exact spot, and your head immediately bobbed back against the blanket. a broken, high-pitched moan ripped from your throat, your lips parted, your whole body trembling as the peak hit you like a wave.
michael growled softly, watching your expression unravel beneath him as he kept up a steady, brutal rhythm. "there she is," he rasped, his voice thick with triumph as he talked you through it. "that's my pretty baby coming for me real good... look at you taking all of it..."
a soft, desperate whimper broke from your lips as you came. the sheer pleasure of it hit you right alongside a sharp pang of realization—how easily he still commanded your body, how he always made you feel so disgustingly good, and how he somehow always got away with it. five years apart, and he could still bring you to your knees with just a few words and a push of his hips.
a sudden, fierce surge of possessive anger flared up inside you. no. not this time. you weren't just going to lie there and let him have his way. you had to take your revenge.
before he could even catch his breath, before the overstimulation of your orgasm could settle, you gripped his damp shoulders and shoved him backward with all the strength you had left.
michael blinked up in dazed shock as you flipped him onto his back, straddling his waist. both of you were completely flushed, slick with sweat, and hyper-sensitive, but you didn't give him a single second to recover. you lifted yourself up and slammed right back down onto his thick shaft, taking his full length all over again in one devastating stroke.
michael gasped, his eyes flying wide, his head slamming back against the blanket. "oh... damn, girl! wait—"
"no!" you yelled, your voice a mess of high-pitched moans, sharp gasps, and raw emotion. you set your feet flat on the blanket on either side of his hips, using your legs to power a relentless, punishing rhythm, bouncing up and down on him with furious, unstoppable force.
"ah... fuck—wait, mama—shh, hold on, you're gonna make me—" michael choked out, his hands flying to your hips, his long fingers digging into your soft skin to try and slow your wild pace. his body was so overstimulated he was shaking, but you slapped his hands away.
"don't... ah!... don't tell me to wait!" you moaned out, riding him mercilessly, every word broken by heavy gasps as you slammed down on him. "five years, michael! five... oh god... five damn years i sat back and hated your guts!"
michael let out a broken groan, his hips twitching involuntarily as you rode him deeper and harder, the friction between your slick bodies driving you both insane. "girl, please—you're driving me crazy—"
"i hated you!" you sobbed out, moaning loudly as you drove yourself down to his hilt, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you pounded down onto him. "i hated... mmph... seeing your face on every billboard! i hated watching you perform... ahh!... watching you move on stage and knowing i was sitting alone in a hotel room while you belonged to the whole damn world!"
michael’s head was bobbing back against the floor, his jaw clenched so tight the tendons stood out in his neck, his dark curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. his hands reached up, grasping at your waist, trying to brace himself against the overwhelming, sweet agony of your rhythm. "ah... god, mama... you ride so good... damn..."
"and you know what... ah!... broke my heart the most?" you cried out, leaning forward, pinning your palms against his damp, heaving chest as you continued to drive yourself up and down on his length without stopping. "every time i watched you dance... mmm... every time i saw you perform... i'd get so damn wet... oh god, mike!... thinking about how you used to touch me! i hated... ah!... how bad i wanted you! i was so angry we didn't work out, mike! you broke me!"
the raw honesty of your words, mixed with the sight of you moaning and riding him so wildly, shattered whatever control michael had left. his dark eyes locked onto yours, completely filled with tears, swimming with five years of regret and intense lust.
"i'm sorry," michael gasped out, his voice cracking, his hands sliding up your sides to drag you down closer to his chest. "i'm so sorry, mama! look at me—i'm sorry!"
he didn't try to stop your pace anymore. instead, michael propped his knees up, changing the angle entirely, and began thrusting up into you from below, meeting every single desperate plunge of your hips with a powerful, arching drive of his own.
"i was so foolish, mama," he whispered fiercely into your ear, his chest heaving against yours as he buried his face in your neck, kissing every inch of skin he could reach while his hips slammed up into you. "i was so locked into the noise, i didn't see i was killing us. i'm so sorry... i love you so much, baby. take it, mama... take it all. i never stopped loving you."
the combination of his dirty, sweet words and his hips slamming up into you turned your anger into pure, overwhelming pleasure. you collapsed forward against his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he took over the rhythm, lifting you and driving up into you with long, deep, filthy strokes that made the elevator frame groan beneath you both.
"mike... mike, yes! ah!" you sobbed into his shoulder, biting his skin to muffle your screams.
"yeah, mama, right there," he rasped into your ear, his voice thick, sweet, and desperately breathless as he dug into you. "come for me again. come on my dick, girl... let it go for me. show me how much you love me..."
his words pushed you over the brink for the second time. your body locked up, your inner muscles gripping him tight, pulling a loud, helpless groan from deep in his chest. michael arched his back off the floor, thrusting up as deep as he could possibly go, his body shaking violently as he came inside you once more, holding you as tightly against his heart as humanly possible.
as the waves of your second climax began to settle, both of you lay there in a heavy tangle of limbs, chests heaving in the warm, close air of the stalled elevator. but michael wasn't done showing you how much he needed you.
before you could fully catch your breath, his hands moved to your hips. he slipped out of you with a heavy, wet drag that echoed off the steel walls, leaving you shivering from the sudden emptiness.
"wait... mike," you panted, your voice weak, your thighs still trembling uncontrollably.
"no, sit up for me, mama," michael whispered, his voice thick with an absolute, unyielding devotion. he slid out from under you, shifting himself back until his head was resting right on the plush blanket, looking up at you from the floor with those dark, dark doe eyes. "i ain't done showing you how sorry i am. sit on my face, baby."
you blinked down at him, hyper-aware of how sensitive you were, but michael didn't give you time to hesitate. his large, warm hands reached up, cupping the curves of your ass cheeks forcefully, and guided you forward until you were straddling his face, your core hovering right over his lips.
"look at me, mama," he rasped, his warm breath fanning against your wet, overstimulated heat. "look down at me while i take care of you. show me how good i can make you feel..."
he didn't wait. michael parted your folds with his thumbs, opened his mouth wide, and flattened his warm tongue right against your clit, taking a long, deep, soaking lap all the way up.
"oh! mike!" you shrieked, your hands flying out to brace against his broad shoulders as your back arched violently.
he was a complete eater, plunging into you with a fierce, shameless hunger. the sound of his mouth on you was scandalously loud in the small metal box—a thick, wet, squelching rhythm of his tongue swirling, flicking, and lapping up every bit of your slick release. he buried his nose deep into your core, taking in your scent, breathing you in like he was starving.
his large hands didn't just hold you; his fingers dug hard into your ass cheeks, gripping you forcefully, physically steering your hips and moving you back and forth across his mouth. he dictated the slide, pressing your weight directly onto his face so you couldn't escape a single second of the friction.
desperation seized you all over again. looking down into his wide, dark doe eyes—glowing in the warm amber light, completely locked onto yours while his face was covered in your wetness—drove you over the edge. driven crazy by the contrast of his possessive grip and the relentless, filthy work of his tongue, you began to ride his face. you rolled your hips against his mouth, helpless, moaning out loud in the enclosed metal space as he drank you down.
"that's it, mama," michael murmured against your wet skin, his voice muffled, messy, and dripping with satisfaction as he felt you grinding wildly over his lips. "riding my face so good... take whatever you need, baby. i got you..."
he dug his fingers deeper into your cheeks, tilting his head up and pulling you down tighter against his mouth, making sure you felt every flat, broad stroke of his tongue, swirling it right where you needed it most. he sucked your clit into his mouth with a firm, rhythmic pull, lapping up the mess you were making, his tongue darting inside your entrance before sliding back up to coat your pearl.
"mike—i'm... oh god, mike, you're making such a mess... i'm gonna—"
"do it, mama," he growled against your heat, his hands squeezing your cheeks tight, anchoring you down, forcing you to ride him harder as he lapped faster, deeper, messier. "come right on my face... let me taste every drop. show me how much you missed your man..."
the sight of his beautiful face glistening with your slickness, his doe eyes staring up into yours with total surrender while he ate you out so ruthlessly, pushed you right over the brink for a third time. your head slammed back, a high, broken scream tearing from your throat as your body locked up, your hips shuttering violently against his mouth.
michael stayed right there through every single pulse, his hands holding your ass firm, swallowing your cries, lapping and sucking frantically, completely devouring your sweet release.
he didn't stop even as you collapsed against him.
he slid his large hands down under your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your upper legs, and gently lifted your hips higher. he shifted you up, angling your body so your core was perfectly exposed to him, elevating you just enough to give him complete, unhindered access.
"stay up for me, mama," he whispered against your slick skin, his voice thick and breathy. "i got you... let me get every last drop."
looking down through heavy, hooded eyes, you watched his dark doe eyes gaze right back up into yours, burning with total devotion as he began a slow, deliberate, soaking trail. starting from the very top of your mons, his warm, broad tongue pressed firm against your skin, dragging all the way down. he lapped over your pearl with a slow, heavy swirl, drew out a high, trembling whimper from your chest, and kept sliding lower—down through your swollen folds, trailing slickness along your entrance, all the way down to the bottom of your perineum.
he didn't miss a single millimeter. once he reached the bottom, he dipped his tongue back up, reversing the path in one long, continuous, wet stroke that made your hips twitch helplessly in his grip.
"look at you... so wet for me, girl," michael growled softly, his voice muffled against your skin as he kept that steady, sweeping motion going from top to bottom. "every single inch of you is mine. i'm taking it all, mama..."
he repeated the long, thorough stroke again and again—a slow, relentless, top-to-bottom rhythm that completely coated you in warmth. his hands held your lifted hips steady in the air, supporting your weight effortlessly while his tongue thoroughly devoured you, lapping up every trace of your release until your whole body was shivering in complete, liquid surrender against the floor.
for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved. the only sound in the metal box was the heavy, synchronized rasps of your breathing and the slow, steady thudding of his heart beneath your cheek. the air was thick and heavy, filled with the sharp scent of sweat, expensive cologne, silk, and raw intimacy.
michael’s hands shifted from your hips, wrapping around your waist to pull you up flush against him. he held you tight, his long arms locked around you as if letting go for even a second would make you vanish back into the last five years.
his demeanor had completely softened. the raw, possessive intensity of the dirty talk faded, replaced by that quiet, gentle tenderness that used to undo you completely.
michael reached up, his long, slender fingers trembling slightly as he brushed damp, stray strands of hair away from your forehead. he pressed a long, lingering kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, tasting the salty track of your tears.
"look at me, mama," he whispered, his voice hushed and raspy.
you lifted your head slowly, your eyes swollen and heavy. michael looked up at you with completely soft, dark eyes, searching your face. he reached out, his thumb gently tracing the faint red mark on your neck where his teeth had dug in earlier, his expression softening with regret. he leaned up, pressing his soft lips directly over the mark, kissing it gently to soothe the sting.
"i got a little crazy," he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your jawline gently. "i'm sorry... i just missed you so much, baby. i didn't mean to hurt you."
before you could answer, the silence was shattered.
beep.
a sharp, mechanical chime echoed through the shaft. with a heavy, metallic shudder, the elevator suddenly jolted back to life. the overhead lights flickered from warm emergency amber back to bright, sterile white, and the floor indicator began to tick steadily upward.
floor 4... floor 5...
panic instantly cut through the haze of post-orgasmic exhaustion. you were both completely bare, slick with sweat, clothes scattered across the floor, and the lift was moving toward the lobby.
"oh god," you gasped, trying to scramble off him, but michael’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you back down against his chest for one more frantic second before letting you go.
"hold on, hold on, i got you," michael said quickly, his voice laced with breathless urgency.
you both scrambled across the blanket in a frantic blur of tangled limbs and hurried whispers. you snatched up your silk pajama top, pulling it over your head while your hands shook so badly you could barely function. michael dragged his trousers back up, zipping them hastily before grabbing his top.
as you reached for your pajama pants, michael caught your wrist. his fingers were hot against your skin. you turned to look at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. he was disheveled—his dark curls smudged and damp against his forehead, his shirt rumpled, his lips swollen—looking completely undone in a way the world never got to see.
he reached down with his free hand, sliding a heavy silver signet ring off his index finger. without taking his eyes off yours, he slipped it onto your thumb. it was warm from his skin.
he pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles right over the silver band.
"this lift might be moving, mama," michael whispered, his voice low, steady, and utterly possessive. he held your gaze, his dark eyes vulnerable yet intensely desperate. "but, can we... can we try again? just you and me. please, baby... tell me we can fix this."
your breath hitched in your throat. you stared at him, your lips parting, completely torn between the lingering hurt of five years apart and the raw, overwhelming love still burning in your chest. you opened your mouth, struggling to find the words, your mind racing as you fought to answer him—
ding.
the elevator jolted to a dead stop. before you could speak, the doors slid wide open to the bright, carpeted hotel hallway—and a wall of furious security and panicked management.
"michael!" his manager barked, stepping forward with an army of guards in tow, his face pale with stress. "where the hell have you—"
he froze, eyes widening as he took in the state of the lift: the blanket tossed across the floor, the heavy scent of sex, your tangled hair, and michael’s swollen, bitten lips. your own manager shoved her way through the crowd, gasping in horror at the sight of you disheveled and barely zipped into your clothes.
"out. both of you, now," your manager ordered, grabbing your arm and forcefully dragging you out of the lift before the press or any hotel guests could catch a glimpse.
michael’s manager simultaneously grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him backward toward the executive suite corridor. michael stumbled back, his eyes never leaving yours, his hand outstretched across the widening gap between you as the guards flooded in to block the view.
you didn't say a word as you were pulled away down the hall, but your fingers wrapped tightly around the warm silver ring still sitting on your thumb.
