synopsis: michael has always believed intimacy belongs in marriage. but as temptation becomes harder to resist, he starts convincing himself that maaaybe some things just don’t count
cw: smut, established relationship, mutual pining, religious/moral conflict, manipulation if u squint ?, poor decision making n even worse excuses, pathetic!michael lowk, v nasty... like actually nasty as hell, he eats u thru ur underwear, just the tip (lol..), loud whiny michael, thriller!michael
michael’s mother had drummed very specific principles into him since he was young, and they always stayed in the back of his mind. he’d grown up believing that a woman was someone you treated with total reverence — someone you protected and cherished. to him, saving the ultimate intimacy for a marriage wasn't just a rule. it was a way to keep something holy.
when you two started dating five months ago, he wanted that structure. he wanted to show you that he loved your mind and your spirit, that he could be the perfect gentleman who honoured the promises you both made to wait.
and for a while, it was easy. you slipped into a comfortable rhythm where everything else seemed to fade into the background. he loved the ordinary days most — the afternoons spent lying in your bed and talking about nothing in particular for hours, sharing snacks, or teasing each other until his stomach ached from laughing.
michael was the kind of boyfriend who couldn't keep his hands off you in the gentlest ways. he’d always reach out to loop his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side, or he’d absentmindedly drum out little beats against your knee with his fingers while you talked. it was the little things.
but lately, something had started to change.
every time he kissed you, the boundaries he'd worked so hard to maintain seemed to blur a little more. the sweet, chaste kisses had slowly shifted over the last few weeks, turning into something… hungrier.
you'd spend hours tangled together in the dark, your mouths moving lazily against each other's as your tongues brushed and tangled until both your heads were spinning. by the time he finally forced himself to pull away, his heart would be battering against his ribs, his jeans painfully tight. he'd lower his face into the crook of your neck, pretending he simply wanted to hold you a little longer when really he was trying to hide how badly he ached for you.
eventually, the heat didn't even need a kiss to spark anymore.
just being around you distracted him, clouding his mind with thoughts that left his skin burning with shame.
he'd started doing things he never would've dared during those first few months of dating. his hands, once so careful, had begun wandering without him even realizing it. he'd find excuses to press the growing hardness in his jeans against your hip during a simple hug, letting out a shaky breath as he subtly nudged himself closer just to feel the warmth of your body.
if you were standing in the kitchen, he’d hover behind you, his front flushing right against your ass while he pretended to reach for something, letting his long fingers drag along the curve of your waist a second longer than they needed to. he was becoming a fiend for your body, his lidded eyes constantly tracking the way your clothes clung to you or staring at your ass when you walked past him.
just the other day, you were sitting cross-legged on the floor by his stereo, letting his pet snake, muscles, coil lazily around your arms while your fingers brushed lightly over his scales. you were wearing his button-down shirt that slipped slightly off one side, exposing the smooth curve of your collarbone and the top of your shoulder. michael had been standing near the window, but his eyes were glued onto you.
he watched the slow glide of your fingertips along the scales, and a completely different — dirty image flashed in his mind. It was so filthy that it made his stomach drop.
he imagined walking over right in front of you, unbuckling his belt and letting his hard, aching dick spring free at your eye level. he pictured catching your wrist, gently lifting your hand away and guiding your palm straight onto his skin. he wanted to teach you exactly how to hold him, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft and moving your hand in that same stroke you were using right now.
he could practically feel the warmth of your hand squeezing him, sliding all the way down to his base and back up to the wet tip. he’d bite his lip as he looked down at you, a groan slipping from his chest as you coated your palm in his precum.
a hot blush rushed straight to his cheeks the second he snapped back to reality. his heart was hammering, and he could feel the thick length of his dick swelling and pressing uncomfortably against the denim of his jeans.
michael quickly licked his lips, pressing them together in that nervous habit of his, pretending to fuss with the cuffs of his shirt as he tried to steady his breathing. he was terrified that if you looked up right now, you'd somehow see every sinful thought written across his face.
the guilt from those daydreams always ate at him later. it settled deep in his chest, making him feel sick for even letting his mind wander that far. he'd whisper quiet apologies to god on the drive back home and promise that it wouldn't happen again.
but then he'd see you the next day, and the cycle would repeat.
the very first time the boundaries cracked was a couple of weeks ago.
the house was full from a family gathering, and the distant chatter of his siblings echoed from down the hall. you were curled up against his side, one of your legs draped comfortably over his thighs while your fingers idly toyed with the buttons of his shirt. michael’s arm was stretched out along the back of the couch, holding you close while the pad of his middle finger slowly stroked back and forth against your leg.
"i was thinking we try that little milkshake place tomorrow," you murmured, looking up at him with a smile. "the one down the street with the neon sign. you keep saying you wanna go."
michael nodded, but his mind was already completely somewhere else. his gaze had dropped, his half-lidded eyes slowly roaming over your face before sliding down to the bare skin of your collarbone. "mhm... yeah. okay," he murmured, his voice low.
you couldn't help the warm blush that rushed to your cheeks at the look he was giving you. "is something distracting you?" you teased.
his mouth curved into a small crooked smile, one that shows that he knew he was caught. "'m not distracted."
"no?" you smiled as he shook his head. you leaned up to press a soft kiss against his lips.
before you could even think about pulling back, michael’s hand came alive. his fingers slid up to cup your jaw, his long fingers dragging your face right back into his to completely cut off your retreat. though, the sweetness of the kiss was no longer there.
his mouth opened wide over yours, his tongue pushing past your teeth to slide deep into your mouth, tangling with yours deeply, stealing your breath. you let out a soft whine, your hands gripping his shoulders as his mouth grew hungrier, his lips sliding over yours in a way that made your ears ring.
his hands moved down to your waist, gripping you tight as he shifted his weight, pushing you backward until your back hit the plush couch cushions. he crowded right over you, his frame trapping you against the cushions as your legs opened and welcomed him in. the blunt pressure of his hard dick pressed perfectly against your core through his trousers. a low groan rattled in his chest as his hands slid down to cup your ass through your clothes as he dragged his length firmly up against you.
you let out a sharp gasp at the slide of it, your body trembling. hearing that little noise only seemed to drive him crazier. he loved it and wanted to hear more, so he gripped your hips and dragged you over him again, his own waist giving a nudge into you.
"michael, w-we shouldn't be doing this,” you managed to breathe out, breaking the kiss for a second, your chest heaving as you looked at him with wide eyes.
but he didn't let the words fully leave your mouth before he was leaning back in, capturing your lips again to swallow the rest of your protest. his mouth was so warm and wet, parting yours with a soft, demanding pressure that made your thoughts immediately start to scatter. you tried to hold onto the hesitation, but as his tongue slid back inside to tangle with yours, the worry melted out of your head, drowned out by the thick heat pooling in your belly.
his waist gave another firm nudge upward, his thick length grinding right against your soaking core. you let out a weak whine into his mouth, your fingers digging hard into his shoulders. michael groaned, breaking the kiss only to drag his lips down the line of your jaw, his breath puffing against your skin before he buried his mouth in the soft crook of your neck. he sucked gently at the sensitive skin there.
michael knew you both shouldn't be doing this. there was a small, nagging flicker of guilt at the back of his mind — the quiet voice of everything he'd been raised to believe about keeping things pure. every line drawn only existed until the moment he couldn't stand the ache anymore. but he was certain he was going to marry you one day, so did the rules even matter? it just felt too good.
so he continued to work you back and forth over his dick, his pelvis tilting upward to grind against you.
it wasn't like he was fucking you — but shit, now michael has a mental image of him fucking you, and it was not helping.
you felt exactly how hard he was beneath his pants, and the pressure of him against you only made you wetter. with each rut of his hips, your panties pressed deeper into your folds, soaking through the fabric and sending waves of pleasure through you.
you let out a whine that was a little too loud, the sound cutting through the room. michael’s eyes widened slightly in panic, his hand slid up to cover your mouth
"shh, y'gotta stay quiet f'me, honey," he whispered.
you nodded helplessly against his hand, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as he started to grind against you again. you let out a quiet gasp when your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him down to press him even harder against you. the hard edge of his zipper caught on your clit with one upward push, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. and you were cumming before you could even think, his name slipping out of your mouth in a muffled cry as you squirmed against him.
michael looked down at you, his brows furrowing slightly as he breathed out. “christ, did y’just…”
but the way your hips were jerking against his was the only answer he needed. and with a low whimper, he was cumming too, his hips rutting into your lap as he spent himself, his cum soaking through his pants until a wet patch bloomed across the denim. his head dropped onto your shoulder, his whiny moans vibrating against your ear as his whole body went slack and melted against you.
the murmur of his family down the hall had felt miles away, drowned out by the sound of your ragged breathing. as the daze slowly cleared from his head, michael pulled back, his eyes still hooded and dark as he looked down between your laps at the ruined denim. a wave of guilt settled over the space.
you swallowed hard, looking up at him with nervous eyes. "michael... i can't believe we just did that."
he bit his lip, brushing his hand over his mouth. his fingers tapped lightly against his lips as his gaze roamed over your flushed face, grounding himself. his hand slid down to cup your jaw, his touch incredibly gentle as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead murmuring that it was okay, it didn't count because it wasn't actually sex.
since then, his mind was constantly working to find loopholes, finding ways to bend the rules to chase that feeling once more without feeling like he was betraying everything he stood for.
and it didn't take long for him to find his next excuse. a few nights later, tucked away in your bedroom, he talked you right out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing but thin cotton panties. you were already leaking through the material, the fabric turning damp from where your slick was pooling.
he knelt between your thighs. he could see the plump shape of your pussy from how they clung to you, almost see-through from how much your pussy wept for him.
he parted his lips and leaned in, burying his face into your clothed cunt. the heat of his mouth hit you right through the cloth, and a half-sobbed cry tore out of your throat, your hands flying down to clutch at his hair.
"o-oh, michael, fuck," you whispered, breathless, and he moaned in response — a sound so deep and guttural it vibrated straight to your core. it was filthy and hungry, like the sound of someone finally getting the thing they've been starving for.
his fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, tugging the waistband up tight so the wet cotton wedged deep between your puffy folds. he began sucking your arousal off your underwear, pulling the cloth taut with his lips as his tongue flattened out to lap greedily over your clit. he was on high off the taste of you, letting out these high, whiny moans that vibrated directly into your clit.
"michael, t-this is so dirty," you whispered, your voice trembling as your hips twitched against his lips.
he paused, lifting his face just an inch. he looked so incredibly pretty from that angle, his dark eyes hooded and his full lips glistening with your moisture. "s'not dirty, baby," he rasped, his soft voice slurring slightly from need. "you're too sweet for it t'be dirty. y'taste heavenly..." his gaze flickered down between your thighs for a second. "...and your panties're still on, so 'm only kissin' you... right?" he looked up at you through his eyelashes, waiting.
hearing his soft words phrased like that made you squirm against the sheets, your hands flying to cover your eyes. you couldn't even form a proper answer, just letting out a tiny whine behind your palm that served as agreement.
his mind was already a mess of filthy thoughts. he was imagining what it would feel like to tear the fabric away with his teeth and drown his tongue inside your wetness, picturing how loud you'd scream if he was sliding his dick into this soaking heat instead of just his mouth.
driven by his own thoughts, he pushed the solid tip of his tongue hard against your entrance through the barrier of your panties. you could feel the blunt shape of it trying to poke inside your hole, stretching the cotton taut against your opening.
you let out a loud whine, quickly clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise as your body bucked right off the mattress. your thighs started to tremble around his head, helpless as he ate you through the ruined cloth.
his tongue dragged up the damp fabric, slow and greedy, before his mouth sealed over your clit. he sucked hard through the wet cotton, making your thighs jerk around his head. michael was losing his mind, completely obsessed with the sweet taste of you soaking right through the cloth.
he groaned again, grinding his mouth deeper against you, smothering himself in your heat and slick as if he'd completely forgotten the cloth was even there. when your body tried to buck, his grip shifted, his large hands clamping onto your hips to pin you down.
he held you perfectly still.
he was fucking feasting, and your body knew it — your body was responding — every muscle tense, your thighs beginning to tremble.
your hands clutched at his hair, desperate, and you felt your own wetness smear hotter through the cotton as he shifted slightly, tongue tracing the edge of your panties now, like he was teasing himself just as much as he was teasing you.
he slowed down for a second, tormenting you by just pressing a soft, feather-light kiss right against your swollen clit — a touch so bare it made you cry out from the lack of pressure. his fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, tugging the fabric up tight so the wet cotton wedged deep between your folds.
with your underwear pulled taut, he used the flat of his hand to rub the soaked material back and forth against your peak, using the damp cloth to grind directly into your slick center until you were sobbing.
he dropped his mouth back down over your drenched center, his lips sealing over your swollen peak. you let out a broken scream, silently thanking god that no one was home as his tongue plunged back into the wet cotton, flattening out to lick you with broad strokes that had your hips bucking off the bed.
the relentless lap of his tongue was pushing you right over the edge, your chest heaved, your fingers knotting into his dark curls as you felt the coil tighten in your tummy.
"y'close, baby?" he asked, his voice so soft. he felt the tremors running through your body. he paused his licking for a second, keeping his lips pressed to your swollen nub.
"let go, sweetheart," he mumbled as he looked up at you. "c'mon. lemme feel you. i got you."
his voice was your final breaking point. he lapped at you again, his tongue moving in fast strokes, flattening out to press the drenched fabric deep into your aching folds.
"thaat's it... god, you're so wet," he groaned against your skin, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you still. "give it t'me, baby. let it out."
and then you were crashing over the edge. your back arched off the mattress, a loud, broken sob tearing from your throat as your orgasm hit you in violent waves. your hips jerked uncontrollably against his face. michael stayed buried right against you, lapping over your clit as he worked you through your cries, greedily drinking down every single drop of your release through your panties until your trembling thighs went slack.
the room fell silent again, save for the sound of your ragged breathing.
it wasn't like you didn't know any better. you knew that you weren't supposed to be doing this. but you just couldn't say no to him when he made you feel like this.
and his sweet words were like nectar in your ears, making it far too easy for him to turn wrong into right. if he wanted to push his excuses further, you were going to let him.
besides, you were already so wet, your slick coating your pussy, and he was still throbbing, rock hard and desperate against your hip. there wouldn't be any harm in helping him out too... right?
so when he crawled back up your body, peppering tender kisses over your cheeks, your nose, and your glossy lips, making you melt right into the mattress. he kissed you like you were something precious, his hands trembling as he shifted himself between your thighs.
"baby," he whispered against your mouth, his voice raspy with need as his fingers worked at his unbuckled belt, pulling his length free. "'m achin' so bad f'you. will y'let me jus..."
you were nodding even though he didn't even finish his sentence. he guided the broad head of his dick straight against your soaked panties. he dragged his length up and down the damp seam, pressing the wet cotton deeper into your puffy slit. you whimpered his name, your thighs trembling from how sensitive you still were from your orgasm.
michael moaned in response, his hips giving a gentle thrust into you. his dick ground right against your core, making you squirm under him. he continued his movement once more, dragging himself over your slick before his fingers reached down, hooking the damp elastic.
he pushed it to the side, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air. a quiet groan escaped him at the sight, his long fingers guiding his dick straight to your pussy. his thumbs pulled your folds apart, a string of slick catching and stretching between them before snapping, glistening under your bedroom light.
he bit his lip in concentration as he glided through your slick, letting out a shaky breath as his hot tip smeared up and down your aching folds.
you squirmed under his dark stare, feeling so exposed with the way he was looking down at you. "michael…" you whimpered, your thighs trying to press shut to hide yourself from him.
"no, no, baby, please don't hide." his hands flew straight to your thighs, pinning them open wide. his voice sounded pathetic as he looked down at you.
he guided his dick right back to your center, rubbing his shaft up and down into your folds. the hot tip caught right over your swollen clit, making your hips jerk into him. he bit his lip, his brows knit in concentration as he stared down at the filthy sight.
you lifted your head to look, letting out a soft mewl at the sight alone. his dick was so thick against you that your folds were barely visible underneath him, completely buried beneath his girth, which was probably why he had to pull you so far apart. both of you were so wet — a messy mix of your slick and his pre-cum coating his length and your skin until it looked like he’d already spent himself all over you.
he was hypnotized by it, and so were you.
his thumbs moved to press his dick firmly against your cunt, dragging it back and forth over your opening, and you gasped at the pressure. he was moaning so much you'd think he was actually inside you, his chest heaving as he worked himself against your wetness. he bit his bottom lip — feeling the overwhelming need to bite onto something, anything — as he gently guided the head of his dick through your silken, dripping folds, and oh—
his tip caught right on your drooling entrance, popping against your tight hole and making you buck up hard into him.
"o-oh god— baby," he breathed out, his whole body shaking.
he froze right there, dropping his forehead against your collarbone as he let out a long, ragged exhale. his hands squeezed your thighs, trying to ground himself and pull his head together.
"okay..." he muttered more to himself than to you, lifting his head to look down where he was pressed against you.
he started sliding his length up and down through your wet slit again, taking slow, careful strokes. he tried to keep it gentle, dragging his shaft over your folds, but you were driving him insane — your moans and how soaked you were. and with every slide down, the head of his dick kept nudging itself right into your wet opening.
the restraint barely lasted. his breathing went shallow, his chest heaving as the feeling of your slick on his dick wiped his mind clean. those slow glides turned into desperate, messy ruts before he even realized what he was doing.
his pace was speeding up. the head of his dick kept catching on your entrance with every push, popping against the tight ring and threatening to slip in. your entrance was constricting around his sensitive tip as you bit down hard on your hand to muffle your loud mewls, but it was practically useless against the noises tearing from your throat.
"b-baby..." he choked out, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he whimpered, his breath coming in hot, shallow hitches against your skin. "i-i can't... i can't—"
he squeezed your thighs tighter, his whole body shaking as he tried and failed to pull his hips back. he sounded out of breath, every word breaking apart in his throat as he dragged his wet head right over your swollen nub before pressing it right back against your tight opening.
"please, sweet girl... please jus'— jus' the tip?" his voice cracked, desperate against your skin as he practically sobbed the words out. "please let me jus' put the tip in."
you were already so dazed, your whole body aching for him. you brought your hands up to cup the back of his neck, your fingers tangling into his damp curls. you pulled him down closer, pressing your forehead against his as you let out a shaky sigh right against his mouth.
"o-okay, yeah, put it in," you whispered, your voice shaking as you spread your thighs just a little wider for him.
so he pulled his hips back slightly, the head of his dick barely hanging in before he pushed right back inside with a mewl. his hips slowly started moving back and forth, relishing the tight squeeze of your pussy gripping him every time he threatened to slip out.
but then he pushed forward just a bit more. you gasped at the new sensation rippling through you, a soft, wet squelch echoing between your thighs as he worked his tip in and out.
and of course, the fucking promise to wait flashed through your mind now of all times, but you couldn't help how good it felt to have his head stretching your walls. you couldn't help how your pussy was greedily sucking him in, only begging for more of him. you couldn't help the way your hips rolled up to swallow him deeper, or how your drooling center was coating his dick in your own slick.
michael was still trying so hard to fight his urges — desperate to keep his word and not push in more than the tip. but then your legs came up, wrapping around his waist and pulling him in deeper, shoving him further into your heat until both of you were gasping for air.
"s-shit, baby," he breathed straight against your lips, his whole body shuddering. your mind didn't even process the curse leaving his mouth — too overwhelmed by the fullness of him.
michael pulled back just enough to look at you, letting out a huff that was full of genuine disbelief. his cheeks were flushed dark, his eyes wide as he hovered over your face.
"did y'mean to do that?" he whispered as he looked down at where your ankles were locked around his waist.
heat rushed to your face. you bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze for a second before nodding softly. "i... i really want you, michael... so bad," you murmured, your voice barely above a breath.
the soft tone of your voice made his dick twitch against your walls. you bit back a tiny smile at the feeling, but he caught it anyway. he let out a quiet breath, a pretty, crooked smile spreading across his face. he bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes melting as they locked on yours.
"yeah?" he breathed. you nodded in response.
"can y'take the rest, baby?" he asked gently.
your brows furrowed in confusion. "the rest?"
you lifted your head, your eyes dropping down between your legs to see what he meant, and your jaw practically dropped. you froze as you realized he wasn't even halfway inside you. the girth of him had filled your entrance completely, so you'd assumed he was all the way in.
michael caught the exact moment it clicked in your head, letting out a soft chuckle. "oh, baby..." he cooed softly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone to soothe your wide-eyed shock.
"'s okay, sweet girl. 'm gonna go slow f'you, i promise. just tell me if it's too much."
you swallowed hard, your mind racing as you looked back up into his soft, reassuring eyes. you nodded, your fingers tightening around his shoulders. "okay... yeah."
he nodded back, taking in a steadying breath. holding your gaze, he tilted his pelvis forward and pushed deeper, burying another inch of his thick length inside you.
a gasp tore from your throat as your walls stretched wide around him, your hips twitching on instinct.
"still okay?" michael whispered, his voice straining as he held himself still.
"y-yeah... keep going," you whimpered out.
you couldn't bring yourself to look away. your eyes dropped back down, mesmerized as you watched the length of his dick slowly disappear bit by bit into your wet opening. the sight of it made your cunt flutter around him.
michael let out a whimper at the tight squeeze, his hips accidentally bucking forward harder than he intended. he sank another two inches deep into your core, and a broken whine slipped out of your lips at the fullness stretching you open.
his thumb reached down, finding your swollen clit and rubbing the sensitive nub to help ease the stretch. the sharp sting melted into liquid heat.
"better?" he rasped, his thumb working you in tight circles.
"y-yeah... god, yeah," you moaned out, your head rolling back against the pillow as the pleasure washed over you.
michael watched your face intently, tracking every small twitch, every sharp inhale, and the way your features contorted in pure bliss. holding your gaze, he slowly tilted his pelvis forward, pushing deeper into your cunt. inch by inch, his shaft buried itself past your walls, stretching you open until he finally bottomed out, his pelvis grinding flush against yours.
you let out a broken gasp, feeling him so deep inside you it felt like he was reaching all the way up into your chest.
his dick gave a twitch deep in your gut, and a shaky "g-god..." scraped out of his throat.
you looked up at him, expecting him to be looking at your face or down where your bodies connected, but his hooded eyes were glued to your lower stomach.
you followed his gaze and caught your breath. there was an unmistakable, raised bulge sitting against the skin of your lower belly — the prominent shape of his dick pressing outward from inside your body. you could literally see the outline of his head tenting your skin from within, proving just how ridiculously deep he was buried inside you.
michael traced his thumb lightly over the rounded rise on your tummy, his mouth hanging open in awe as his whole body shuddered on top of you.
"look at you…" he rasped. a breathless groan spilled past his lips as he nudged forward just a hair more, watching the bulge shift under your skin. "takin' every inch… gosh, such a good girl."
the stretch was overwhelming, an aching fullness that made your toes curl into the sheets. you reached down, covering his hand where it rested on your tummy, feeling the heat of his palm pressed right over the spot where he was plugged into you.
"michael, please..." you panted, your hips twitching helplessly under him. "move... please."
and who was he to deny you? he lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours as he pulled back, slowly dragging his length almost all the way out until just his tip was resting against your entrance before he plunged right back in, burying himself all the way to his hilt with a wet slap.
a loud cry tore out of your chest as he bottomed out again, your walls clamping down tight around him.
his pace picked up as he started working his hips in long, deep rolls, every thrust grinding his pelvis against your clit while his dick stretched your tight cunt. the squelching sound of your slick filled the room, loud and messy — a rhythmic plap plap plap echoing off the walls every time his hips slammed flush against yours.
"so wet for me," he whimpered against your jaw, his lips dragging down your neck to leave messy kisses while his hips pounded steady into your lap. "y'take it so good, sweet girl... look how deep 'm in you..."
he pressed down firm on the bulge on your belly right as he thrust deep, pushing his palm right into the swell of skin. the extra pressure was too much, making your hips jerk clean off the mattress as you writhed under him. you reached down, your fingers trying to push his hand away from your tummy.
"d-don't run, baby," he rasped, catching your wrist and guiding your hand up to grip the pillow, making sure you had something to clutch as you tried to find leverage. "y'asked f'this, didn't you?"
he leaned down and pressed his mouth over yours, capturing your lips while his hips kept grinding deep, burying himself flush against your pussy. you let out a whimper against his tongue, helpless as he worked you back and forth.
you were so close to the edge, your walls began to flutter around him. he felt the squeeze of your pussy gripping his dick and let out a broken gasp into your mouth.
"oh-oh... y'close?" he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes wide and hooded. "y'gonna cum f'me again, baby?"
you nodded frantically.
"yeah? c'mon baby... please cum on my— oh," he begged, his voice breaking into a whimpering mess as he slammed his hips forward again. "yes, yes, please... 'need to feel it,"
the snap inside you had you feeling like you were on cloud nine, fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. your chest heaved, your voice so hoarse from screaming his name that your moans completely cut off into dry hitches. you couldn't even form a real sound as a wave tore through your core, your cunt violently gushing and squirting all over his dick, soaking his thighs and drenching the sheets beneath you.
michael felt the warm spray coat his dick, his dark eyes widening before he thrust even harder into your gushing warmth.
"o-oh... y-you're..." his breath hitched, his brain completely short-circuiting at the sight and feeling of you squirting all over him. his head dropped as he gripped your hips tighter. "oh god—"
"that's it, give it all to me," he rasped, his voice a broken mess in your ear.
your walls kept pulsing around him, milking every inch of his dick while you spurted everywhere. he tried to hold out, but the coil in his belly was too much to fight. his hips stuttered, a wrecked groan tearing from his chest as he shoved himself all the way in, burying his face in your neck as his body finally gave out.
with a stretched out whine, he came deep inside you. thick streams of his release flooded into your core, filling you to the brim until his dick was covered at the base.
he kept moving, taking slow, languid thrusts as he rode out his own high. his dick pushed his milky white seed in and out of your walls. with every slide, the mixture overflowed from your entrance, pooling between your thighs and dripping onto the sheets below.
his head was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged hitches against your skin while you both lay there catching your breath.
your hand moved up lazily, your fingers playing loosely with his curls as you stroked the back of his neck. the room was silent except for your panting, until a soft sniffle broke through the quiet.
your brows pulled together, your hand pausing in his hair. you gently pushed his shoulder back to see his face. "michael?" you whispered.
a single tear streak was glistening down his flushed cheek.
"were you crying?"
"no," he immediately mumbled, turning his head away and trying to hide his face in your neck while his hand came up to clumsily wipe at his eye. "n-no i wasn't."
a soft laugh bubbled up in your chest, and you tried to tilt his chin back up so you could actually look at him. he was so cute. "michael, look at me."
he let out a soft huff, his cheeks flushing. "i-i don't know," he confessed quietly. "it just... it felt really good."
you couldn't hide the smile spilling across your face if you tried, your heart melting at him.
"don't make fun of me," he whined softly, hiding his face behind his hands.
"'m not, i promise," you murmured gently. you reached up, gently pulling his hands away, and caught both sides of his face, your hands holding his cheeks as you pulled him back down to kiss him tenderly.
when you pulled back, his eyes fluttered open, looking up at you through his long lashes with so much affection that it made your head spin.
his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him, holding you so close that there wasn't an inch of space left between your bodies.
tomorrow, the reality of what you'd just done would catch up to him. tomorrow, the guilt would return, and he'd have to face the stained sheets and the fact that every lie he'd told himself to justify this was gone.
he knew it counted — it always counted, you both knew it.
but for now, the unsaid truth hung quietly in the air, pushed aside just for tonight while all that mattered was the warmth of your skin against his, and the sound of your soft breathing as he held you tight.
✦ summary: storms have always made you feel smaller than you’d like to admit. when michael realizes just how bad the weather has gotten while he’s still at the studio, something tells him exactly where he needs to be.
✦ warnings: hurt/comfort, thunderstorms, fear of storms, crying, brief mentions of childhood trauma, brief mentions of a verbally abusive/yelling mother, trauma responses, age regression/little space (nonsexual), reader uses younger speech while regressed, protective/caretaking michael, lots of pet names, kissing, cuddling, tooth-rotting fluff
✦ a/n: this one ended up being rly personal to me. i’m actually terrified of storms for pretty much the same reason reader is, and it’s one of those fears that can make me feel very small very quickly, so i put a little more of myself into this one than i usually do. writing michael as that safe place, especially the idea of someone hearing the thunder and immediately thinking i need to get to her, was weirdly comforting to write. anyway before i get mad emotional on main thank you so much to the sweet angel who requested this. i really hope you love it. (the req)
the rain started soft at first, just a quiet tapping against the windows of your little apartment, the kind that might have felt cozy on any other night. but the sky had other plans. within the hour it turned fierce, the drops slamming harder and harder, thunder rolling in deep, low growls that shook the walls like they were made of paper. lightning cut through the dark every few seconds, painting the ceiling in harsh white before dropping everything back into shadow. you sat curled on the couch, throw blanket pulled tight to your chin, knees drawn up like a shield against the world.
every boom sent a fresh shiver racing through you. there was something about the sound that never stayed only thunder. somewhere between the crack and the echo, your body always seemed to hear something else, something older, something you refused to name. you knew you were in your apartment. knew you were grown. knew there was nobody here to be afraid of.
your body never seemed to care. you covered your ears, you hated how the fear still lived so deep in your bones, how the sound could strip away every carefully built grown-up layer and leave you feeling small and helpless again. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes; you wiped them away quick and stubborn, but they kept coming anyway, quiet and unwanted.
already you could feel that soft, fuzzy pull at the edges of your mind, the one that made everything feel a little younger, a little more fragile, like the storm was peeling you back to something smaller than the adult you tried so, so hard to be.
across the city, in a dimly lit studio, michael had just finished the last take of a new arrangement. the band was packing up, engineers trading soft jokes under the low lights, when a sudden crack of thunder rattled the high windows hard enough to make the glass tremble.
he glanced up, the leather of his jacket catching the glow as he shrugged it on over his black shirt. something tugged at him then, an instinct sharp and undeniable, pulling straight at his chest like a string tied to you. he felt it in his bones before he even looked at his phone. you hadn’t answered the last two texts. he already knew.
he dialed without hesitation.
you jumped out of your skin when the phone buzzed against the cushion beside you. his name lit up the screen soft and familiar ‘mikey baby <3’ and for a second, you almost didn’t pick up, your voice would shake and he’d hear everything, but the next flash of lightning decided for you, bright and cruel.
“hi…” it came out smaller than you wanted, almost a whisper, the edges already going soft and young.
“hey, baby.” his voice was soft, warm, that slight late-night rasp still clinging to the edges from hours in the studio. “you okay angel? storm’s gettin’ pretty wild out there.”
you tried for casual, nonchalant. tried to keep the tremble out. “i’m fine. just… um…reading.”
a pause stretched between you, filled only by the rain. he knew. of course he knew. “you sound scared.”
“i’m not-” another boom shook the windows hard. your breath hitched, sharp and sudden, and the lie died right there in your throat. the small feeling crept closer, making your voice even quieter when you spoke again.
“i’m on my way.” his voice was steady but laced with that quiet urgency, the kind that said he’d already made up his mind.
“mikey, you don’t have to-”
“i already know, baby. i can feel it. something in me just… pulled the second that thunder hit. bill’s grabbing the keys right now. stay on the phone with me, okay? just talk to me til i get there. i need to hear your voice.”
you heard the studio door close behind him, the rush of heavy rain as he stepped outside into the storm, the soft click of the car door shutting out the noise. he kept talking the whole drive, quiet stories about the session, the way the bassline had finally locked in after hours of trying, how the rain looked silver under the streetlights as bill drove faster than he probably should’ve.
michael’s voice was a steady thread through the chaos, warm and constant, and you clung to it like it was the only solid thing left in the world. every few minutes he’d check in soft: “still with me, baby?” and you’d answer with a meek yes, even when another crash made your free hand grip the blanket tighter and the little feeling settle heavier in your chest.
fifteen minutes later headlights swept across your living-room wall in a gentle arc. you heard the car door, hurried footsteps on the stairs taking them two at a time, then the soft knock you knew by heart.
you barely had the door open before he was there, jacket damp at the shoulders, curls a little flattened against his forehead, eyes soft with worry and something deeper. something protective.
“hey,” he whispered, stepping inside and closing the door with one careful push. water beaded on the leather and dripped onto the floor but he didn’t care. the second the lock clicked, he let his jacket slip forgotten to the floor and gathered you into his arms holding you so tight the trembling in your body started to ease against the solid, familiar warmth and smell of him.
you could feel his heart beating fast under your cheek, still racing from the drive, from the need to get to you. the smallness in you melted further into him, making you press closer like you needed the whole of him to feel safe again.
“i knew,” he murmured into your hair, voice thick with that quiet yearning that always made your chest ache in the best way. “i knew the second that first big thunder hit. something in me just pulled hard, like i could feel you needing me from across the city. had to get to you. i’ve got you now, baby. you’re safe. i’m right here.”
you buried your face against the soft cotton of his shirt, breathing in the familiar mix of his cologne, the faint scent of studio air, and him, warm and real and home. another crack of thunder made you flinch hard; his arms tightened immediately, one hand cradling the back of your head protective, the other stroking slow, soothing circles between your shoulder blades like he was trying to pour calm straight into your skin. you made a tiny, soft sound against him, the kind that felt younger than your years, and he only held you closer.
“c’mon,” he said gently, lips brushing your temple. “let’s get you somewhere softer. somewhere i can hold you proper.”
he guided you to the couch without ever letting go completely, like the idea of even a few inches between you was too much. he sat and pulled you straight into his lap in one smooth motion. you curled against his chest like you belonged there, because in moments like this you did, completely, and the little feeling wrapped around you warmer, making you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and hold onto his shirt with small fists.
his heart beat steady under your ear now, a quiet counter-rhythm to the storm outside. he tucked the throw blanket around both of you extra careful, making sure every inch of you was covered and warm, like he knew you needed the cocoon.
lightning flashed again, bright and sharp. you pressed closer without thinking, a soft whimper escaping. michael’s hand found yours, lacing your fingers together tight, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate pattern that felt like a promise he intended to keep forever.
“remember the first time i saw you get scared like this?” he asked softly, voice low enough that it felt like a secret shared only between your hearts. “that night at the studio when the power went out during the thunderstorm. you tried so hard to hide it, but your hands were shaking when you handed me the lyric sheet. i’ve never forgotten the way you looked, brave and soft all at once. every time the sky gets loud now, i think of you. i want to be the one who makes it quieter. i want to be the place you run to when everything feels too big.”
you managed a tiny, watery sound against his chest, more a soft hum than a laugh. “you noticed that?”
“i notice everything about you.” he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, lingering there like he was breathing you in, memorizing the feel of you safe in his arms. “that’s when i started keeping an extra umbrella in the car. and checking the weather every night before i leave for the studio. just in case. just so i could always reach you faster if you needed me. especially when you get all soft and little like this.”
the rain hammered harder against the windows, a relentless drum. you felt the tears spill over at last, quiet and a little embarrassed, sliding down your cheeks onto his shirt. the smallness made them feel bigger somehow, harder to stop.
michael didn’t say a word about them. he simply tilted your chin up with two careful fingers and kissed the wet trails away, one after another, soft and sweet and lingering, until the salt taste of them was gone and only the warmth of his lips remained.
“it’s okay to be scared,” he whispered against your skin, forehead resting against yours. “doesn’t make you any less strong. doesn’t make me love you any less. if anything… it makes me want to hold you closer. makes me want to keep the whole world quiet just for you. you can be as little as you need right now. i’ve got you.”
you looked up at him, really looked. in the soft glow of the single lamp you’d left on, the sharp lines of his image softened into something infinitely tender. the same man who commanded stages and had women fainting within seconds, was in your tiny living room, holding you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, like he’d been aching to get to you the whole drive through the rain, ready to take care of every soft, scared piece of you.
a particularly loud crash of thunder rolled through then, closer and sharper than the others, making the windows rattle hard enough that you flinched with a soft, involuntary sound that felt even smaller. without a second’s hesitation michael’s hands came up, warm palms gently covering your ears, shielding you from the worst of the noise. his forehead stayed pressed to yours, eyes closed, voice a soft murmur you could feel more than hear through the gentle pressure of his hands.
“shh, baby… i’ve got you. just me and you. the storm can’t touch you while i’m here. breathe with me. you’re safe, my sweet girl.”
he kept his hands there until the boom faded into a distant rumble, then slowly lowered them, replacing the shield with soft kisses to your temples, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. you breathed out shakily against his lips as he kissed you proper. slow, unhurried, full of that quiet yearning that said he’d been thinking about this the whole way over, needing to feel you safe and close and protected.
you stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in him, listening to the rain and the steady beat of his heart. the fear still lingered at the edges, and the little feeling made everything feel softer, harder to push away, and after a few more quiet minutes you found yourself speaking, voice small and childish against his chest.
“it’s… it’s ‘cause when i w-was little,” you started, the words coming slow and careful, the regression making them come out even quieter, almost like a confession from a much smaller you, “mama used to yell…a lot… like, r-really… really loud. and… and somehow my mind just… i dunno… associated that with the thunder. s’like, every time it crashes it feels like-”
michael went completely still beneath you. not stiff. not startled. just still in that particular way he got when every bit of his attention belonged to you, “oh, my baby.” his thumb swept beneath your eye, catching a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, “so when you hear it now…” you nodded before he could finish. something in his face broke soft.
“okay,” he whispered. “okay. i understand.”
michael’s arms tightened around you gently but firmly, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face, thumb stroking soft across your cheek. “hey,” he interrupted, voice low and full of so much care it made your throat tighten. “you don’t have to go any further than that tonight. not while you’re already scared. you told me enough, not while i’m holding you. you’re safe. you’re okay. you’re here with me, and nothing from back then can touch you. i won’t let it. just stay right here in this moment with me, baby. that’s all you need to do. you can stay like this as long as you need. i’ll keep the loud away.”
his words wrapped around you like another blanket, soft and protective, settling the regression deeper in the safest way. he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then another to the top of your head, breathing you in like you were something precious he’d been missing all night. “i’m so proud of you for even starting to say it,” he murmured, “but you don’t have to carry it alone right now. let me carry it for a little while. just rest with me. i’ve got you, my angel”
you nodded against him, the tightness in your chest easing a little more with every word, the small feeling turning warm and held instead of scary. he shifted so he could stretch out along the couch properly, guiding you to lie fully against him, head on his chest, legs tangled with his under the blanket. one arm stayed wrapped securely around your waist; the other hand kept stroking your hair in long, slow passes that felt like pure love, like he was trying to smooth away every last bit of fear and let you stay soft.
you curled even smaller against him, fists still lightly holding his shirt, and he only pulled the blanket tighter around you both.
he talked to you then in that soft, almost melodic voice, stories about childhood summers in gary when the rain would flood the streets and he and his brothers would splash through the puddles until mother called them in laughing. about the first time he ever wrote a song in a thunderstorm, the way the lightning seemed to spark the melody itself right out of the dark. about how, even now, the sound of rain made him think of you, of racing across the city just to get here, to this couch, to the way you fit against him like you’d always been meant to, like his arms had been waiting for exactly this soft, little shape of you when the world got too loud. like he was made to take care of you.
minutes stretched into an hour, then longer. the thunder grew more distant, the lightning flashes farther apart. your breathing evened out completely; the tears dried on your cheeks and his shirt. the regression stayed light and gentle, keeping you soft and quiet in his arms, and michael never stopped the gentle motion of his hand in your hair, never loosened the protective curl of his arm around you. every so often he’d press another soft kiss to the top of your head or murmur something sweet, “still here,” “you’re doing so good,” “i love having you this close,” “my brave girl” just to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere and that it was okay.
at some point you realized the worst of the storm had passed. the rain had softened back into a steady, almost soothing fall against the windows. you lifted your head just enough to look at him, still feeling that gentle littleness. his eyes were half-lidded, soft with affection and that lingering yearning, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth like he was exactly where he wanted to be.
“still here,” he said, as if answering a question you hadn’t spoken. “not going anywhere. never when you need me like this. never when the sky gets loud and you get all soft. i’ll always come.”
you settled back against his chest with a soft, content sigh, listening to the rain and the steady beat of his heart under your ear.
outside, the city was still wet and dark, but inside your apartment the air felt warm. safe. full of the quiet magic that only existed when michael held you like this. he’d rushed through the storm because somehow, he’d known. he’d covered your ears when the sky got too loud. he’d stopped the old hurt before it could drag you too far backward. he’d let you be small and frightened and protected without ever making you feel ashamed of it. and every touch, every kiss pressed into your hair, every quiet i’ve got you said the same thing. he loved you louder than the thunder. he’d let you be little and protected without question.
he stayed the whole night. when the last of the thunder faded into complete silence and the first pale light of dawn began to filter soft through the curtains, you were still curled together on the couch.
the little feeling had eased into something peaceful, and his fingers never stopped tracing gentle patterns along your arm, a silent promise that as long as storms kept coming, he would keep showing up. leather jacket damp from the rain, soft voice full of yearning, open arms ready to hold every piece of you, big or small, and all the quiet love in his heart.
and for the first time in a long time, the sound of rain against the windows didn’t scare you at all. it just sounded like home.
you had been waiting for a night like this one for what felt like an eternity.
not dramatically. just in the quiet, constant way that had become familiar over the past couple of months. the low ache under your ribs every time he left for the studio with that soft, almost apologetic look and the same request: “stay tonight, please.”
he always asked. even when he already knew he would barely see you. even when the album was eating up every free hour, he asked, as if the house needed your body in it to keep from becoming completely empty… and you kept saying yes. you slept in his bed more nights than not. you learned the particular silence of neverland after dark when the staff had gone and the only sound left was the distant ticks of clocks scattered throughout the property.
the rooms stayed too quiet. your own footsteps started to sound wrong in the long hallways. you had begun leaving lights on in places you didn’t need them, just so the dark wouldn’t feel so absolute when he still wasn’t home.
tonight was supposed to be different.
michael had dismissed the staff early. the main house settled into that rare, soft quiet that only happened when he decided the world could wait. dinner was simple and late. you sat across from him at the small table near the windows as the last light drained from the sky. he barely ate. mostly he moved the food around with his fork, offering you small, tired smiles that reached his eyes for a second before the fatigue took him somewhere else.
the room was quiet enough that you could hear the soft scrape of his fork against the plate. you watched the way his shoulders stayed slightly hunched, the way his attention kept drifting past the glass into whatever version of the album was living behind his eyes. the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. it was just familiar. the kind that had been growing for months. the kind that made you feel like you were sitting with a memory of him instead of the real thing.
you tried not to fill it. you had learned that filling the silence only made him retreat further.
afterward, you followed him into the sitting room without asking. he dropped onto the long couch with a low exhale that sounded like it had been waiting to escape all day. you curled into his side immediately, tucking your bare feet under his thigh the way you always did when you needed to get as close as possible. he let you. the couch was soft and deep, the fabric worn smooth under your bare legs. his body was warm against you, but the rest of the room felt cool.
after a while, his hand came down to settle at the curve of your neck, thumb stroking once, absently. the heat of his palm against your skin felt like the first real thing that had happened all evening.
he put on a charlie chaplin film. the black and white picture flickered in the corner in silence. normally he watched these with a quiet, almost boyish delight. tonight his gaze rested on the screen without really seeing it. he didn’t smile at the parts he usually smiled at. he just sat there, warm and solid against you, present in body yet somewhere else entirely in his head.
you stayed quiet for as long as you could stand it, breathing in the faint trace of cologne that still clung to his shirt. your fingers traced slow patterns over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart under the soft fabric. almost no real time with him had left you starving for exactly this. the weight of his arm. the sound of his breathing. the simplicity of him not moving away.
you pressed closer and turned your face into the warm skin on the side of his neck, and michael tipped his head just enough to give you more of it. when you placed a soft kiss there, his hand tightened briefly in your hair. a small, instinctive response that made something in your chest loosen for a second.
but he still wasn’t laughing at the film.
the longer you sat there, the more you noticed the tiny absences. the way his fingers would still completely in your hair for several seconds at a time, like his mind had left the room. the way his breathing would go slightly shallow, then deepen again when he came back. those small disappearances hurt more than the longer ones. they made you feel like you were holding onto someone who was already halfway gone, even while his arm stayed around you. you had been living inside that feeling for months; invited to stay, asked to be here, and then left reaching for someone who was only partly present.
you tried again. you shifted closer, sliding one hand up to rest against the side of his face. he leaned into the touch for a moment, eyes still on the screen.
he didn’t come back.
after another few minutes, you lifted your head enough to look at him properly.
“you okay?” you asked softly.
michael blinked like the question had pulled him back from somewhere far away. he looked down at you, and the smile he gave you then was real. small, but real.
“just tired,” he said. his voice was low and rough around the edges. “long couple of weeks.”
you nodded against his shoulder even though the answer didn’t fully settle.
you settled back against him and let the film keep playing. his fingers resumed their slow path through your hair. you kept your face tucked against his chest and tried to memorize the feeling of finally having him still for more than ten consecutive minutes.
the chaplin film ended. michael got up to put on another one without asking. the second film started. the light from the screen flickered across the side of his face. you watched him for a while instead of the picture, studying the tired line of his mouth, the way his lashes sat against his cheek when he blinked too slowly. he was beautiful in the low light. he was also somewhere else. you reached for his hand where it rested on his thigh and laced your fingers through his. he let you. his thumb stroked once over your knuckles and then went still again.
you stayed like that longer than you expected, holding his hand and listening to him breathe and trying not to need more than he was giving. the desperation sat right under your skin, quiet and constant. you wanted him to look at you the way he used to before the album swallowed everything. you wanted him to laugh at the film. you wanted him to pull you closer like he meant it instead of like he was simply allowing it. you wanted, more than anything, to feel chosen instead of allowed.
eventually he pressed a brief kiss to the top of your head and sat forward with a quiet sound of reluctance.
“i need to finish one thing in the office before bed,” he said. his voice was almost apologetic. “give me a little bit, baby. i won’t be long, i promise.”
you nodded even as something in your stomach tightened. he stood, and the sudden loss of his warmth left the couch feeling too big. you watched him walk to the doorway without looking back. the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall.
you sat alone on the couch for a long time after that, while the film kept playing to no one. you could still feel the place where his hand had rested in your hair. you could still feel the shape of his fingers between yours. the longer you stayed, the more the quiet started to press in. the house felt larger again. the rooms beyond the sitting room seemed to stretch farther than they had a few hours ago. you thought about getting up and going to bed. you thought about waiting right there on the couch until he came back. neither option felt right.
eventually you stood and walked back to the bedroom.
his large black shirt was draped over the chair where he had left it earlier. you pulled it on without thinking. the fabric was soft and worn and still held the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the clean soap he used. it hung to your knees and slipped off one shoulder the way it always did. you weren’t wearing anything underneath. you climbed into the big bed, sat against the headboard, and tried to wait.
twenty minutes later, the restlessness won.
you decided you were going to find him. you were going to walk down the long hallway in nothing but his shirt, push the office door open, and climb into his lap before he could finish whatever was keeping him from coming back to you. you wanted to take his mind off whatever had been sitting so heavy on him all night. you wanted his hands under the hem. you wanted the low sound he made when he realized you were already bare for him. you wanted to be the thing that pulled him out of the fog, even if only for a little while, even if he went right back into it afterward.
you needed it more than you wanted to admit, so you left the bedroom with the decision still warm in your chest.
the only light in the hallway leaving his bedroom came from the small nightlights left on low, the way the staff always left them. neverland at this hour felt like a held breath. vast and completely still. your bare feet were quiet on the carpet. his oversized shirt brushed against your legs as you walked, the cool breeze from your movement sliding under the hem and teasing the soft skin of your inner thighs.
with every step you took, the more the image of him brushing his fingers up your soft thighs and touching your aching heat filled your mind.
the thought of it made the anticipation and hope sharper, and more desperate at the same time. you told yourself he would look up when you opened the door. you told yourself that if you could just get close enough, if you could get his hands under the shirt, you could still be the thing that brought him the rest of the way home.
the office door was closed, but not all the way. a thin line of warmer light spilled into the hallway.
and then you heard his voice.
it was soft.
not the voice he used with the engineers, or the dancers, or the people who needed something from him. this was the private register, the one that only came out when the armor was off and he thought no one was listening. it was lower. warmer. there was a quiet almost-laugh in it, the kind he rarely gave you anymore.
“…no, it’s better now,” michael said, and the fondness in it made something cold slide under your chest. “you were right about the layering. i didn’t hear it until you said it.”
a pause. the soft creak of his chair. the quiet shift of fabric as he settled deeper into it.
“it’s so good talking to you.” another quiet breath, almost like relief. “yeah. i needed that.”
the words were simple. they shouldn’t have gutted you. but the way he said them, like whatever was on the other end of the line was giving him something he couldn’t get from you, made your stomach drop so hard you felt dizzy. your fingers tightened in the hem of his shirt. the hallway suddenly felt too narrow.
you didn’t stay for more.
you turned around before he could hang up, before the softness could turn into goodbye, before you heard his actual laugh. his shirt against your skin felt heavier with every step. the air in the hallway felt thinner. by the time you reached the bedroom again, your pulse was loud in your ears.
you climbed back into the bed the way you had left it. you sat against the headboard and pulled the shirt down over your thighs, smoothing the soft black fabric as if it could somehow cover what you had just heard. the residual cold in your chest hadn’t left. it sat there quietly, waiting, spreading. you could still hear the soft shape of his voice in your head. the words kept replaying, gentle and private and not meant for you.
the clock on his nightstand read 1:51 when you heard his footsteps coming down the hall.
he pushed the door open quietly, the way he always did when he thought you might already be asleep. he was still in the black sweatpants from after dinner, the long-sleeved shirt pushed up to his elbows. his small cell phone was in his hand. he walked straight to the nightstand, set it face down on the wood with a soft click, and then looked at you.
“you’re still up.”
his voice was normal again. the private softness was gone, scrubbed clean. the contrast made your throat tighten.
“couldn’t sleep,” you said. your own voice came out thinner than you wanted. smaller.
he nodded once, reached up and dragged a hand through his long dark hair, then glanced toward the bathroom.
“i’m gonna take a two minute shower,” he said. “then bed?”
there was no real question in it. no pause to see if you needed anything. he was already turning away. you watched him walk into the bathroom. you listened to the door click shut. you listened to the water start. the sound of it filled the room and somehow made the silence between you feel even larger.
the phone was right there on the nightstand.
you stared at it. the way it sat so casually where he had left it, as if there was nothing on it that could hurt you. the water continued to run. your pulse continued to climb. the twisting feeling in your stomach continued to settle deeper.
you lasted eleven seconds.
your fingers closed around it before the decision finished forming. you touched the tiny keyboard, causing the small green-tinted screen to light up, bright in the low light of the lamp. the call log was still open, like he never bothered to close it. like it hadn’t occurred to him that anyone might look.
elena.
outgoing.
1:06 a.m. – 1:47 a.m.
41 minutes.
it sat there clean and undeniable. forty-one minutes of the soft voice you had just overheard. forty-one minutes of it’s good talking to you, and i needed that while you were down the hall in his shirt, planning to climb into his lap and pull him back to you. while you had been telling yourself that tonight was different, that if you were just patient enough and soft enough the distance might finally loosen its grip, but he had found whatever he needed in someone else’s voice.
you sat there with the phone in your hand, your favorite shirt of his hanging off one shoulder, the entire quiet weight of neverland pressing in through the windows. the hurt was no longer sharp. it had become something heavier, something that lived in your chest and made breathing feel like work.
you set the phone back down exactly where he had left it: face down, slightly angled toward the lamp, like nothing had been touched. your hands were steady when you did it. they only started shaking after the screen went dark and the evidence was hidden again.
you sat up against the headboard and waited. the shirt still smelled like him. the fabric had gone slightly warm from your skin. the only sound was the water running in the bathroom, steady and distant.
after another minute, the water shut off. there was the soft sound of the shower door opening, the rustle of a towel being pulled from the rack, the quiet pad of his bare feet on the tile. then the bathroom door opened, and the warmer light spilled into the bedroom for a second before he stepped through and closed it behind him.
he was wearing only a large towel. it hung low on his hips, knotted carelessly on one side. his hair was longer than it had been the year before, the soft dark curls still wet and clinging to the back of his neck and the sharp line of his jaw. tiny beads of water tracked down the center of his chest, eventually disappearing underneath the towel. the scent of his soap moved into the room with him; clean and familiar. the same scent that usually made you want to press your face into his neck.
he looked at you immediately, and whatever your face showed made him pause for half a second in the doorway.
he didn’t ask right away.
he walked to the dresser, opened the second drawer, and pulled out a pair of soft black pajama pants. he turned slightly toward you as he loosened the towel, dropping it to the floor without a second thought. he stepped into the pants bare, pulled them up over his hips, and tied the drawstring with slow, deliberate movements. only when the knot was finished did he glance over at you again.
his voice was quiet. careful.
“you okay?”
the question sat in the air between you for a long moment.
you looked at him, and the soft voice you had overheard in the hallway rose in your throat like something you might choke on.
“who’s elena?”
he went still.
not the sharp, defensive stillness of someone already prepared for a fight. this was slower. genuine surprise first, then something that looked almost like disbelief.
“what?”
“elena,” you repeated. your voice came out thinner than you wanted. “you were on the phone with her for forty-one minutes. who is she?”
his eyes moved from your face to the phone on the nightstand and back again. he didn’t pretend not to understand.
“you went through my phone.”
it wasn’t a question.
“yes,” you said flatly. “it was eating me alive. i had to know who you were speaking to like that.”
“speaking like…” he said it slowly, like he was still putting the pieces together. “you listened? you stood out there and listened to my conversation.”
you didn’t deny it.
something shifted in his expression. the surprise was still there, but anger was moving in underneath it now, cleaner and sharper than the earlier tiredness. he took a step closer to the bed, then stopped.
“i already have to worry about everyone else invading every private second of my life,” he said, voice low. “now i have to worry about you doing it too?”
“you lied to me,” you spit out.
“i told you i needed to finish one thing—”
“you didn’t mention you were going to call another woman in the middle of the night,” you pushed the covers the rest of the way off your legs and sat forward. the shirt slid further down one shoulder. “that’s a lie by omission, and you know it.”
he was stopped at the foot of the bed. close enough that you could see the last drops of water still clinging to his collarbone. close enough that the clean scent of his soap reached you again. the air between you felt tight, almost warm from how close he was standing. you could hear the soft, controlled sound of his breathing. the lamp on the nightstand threw a low gold light across the side of his face, catching on the damp ends of his hair.
the proximity made it worse. your body still wanted him even while your chest felt tight with anger. you hated that most of all.
“i didn’t lie.”
“you did.” the words came out harder this time.
he exhaled through his nose. the sound was pure irritation.
“you’re exhausting when you’re like this.”
“i’m exhausting because i don’t like being lied to?”
“you’re exhausting because you invent problems when there aren’t any and then force me to stand here and defend myself against your imagination.”
you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood. the shirt fell to your knees again. you felt completely exposed under it. bare. small. ridiculous.
“my imagination,” you repeated. “that’s what we’re calling the call log now.”
“the call happened. the meaning you’re giving it didn’t.” he paused, dragging his hand across his jaw in frustration. “you went through my phone. you stood outside my door and eavesdropped on my conversation. and now you’re sitting there looking at me like i did something to you.” his voice stayed low, but there was real heat in it now. “what exactly do you think happened, huh? what story did you convince yourself of while you were going through my things?”
“i don’t know,” you said, the words coming out thinner than you wanted. “i just know it didn’t sound like nothing. you were soft with her. i could hear it in your voice. you laughed at something she said like it was easy. forty-one minutes of easy.”
for a second, he only stared at you. the irritation was still there, but something more focused moved in underneath it. like he was forcing himself back into order.
“she’s someone i’ve known a long time. longer than i’ve known you,” he said finally. “she’s helping with some of the vocal ideas. that’s all. it was nothing. it was work.”
you let out a short, humorless breath.
“that wasn’t a work call.”
his eyes narrowed.
“yes, it was.”
“no.” your voice had gone quieter, but it was harder now. “that was a relief call. that was you needing a break from me. you called her because you didn’t want to deal with whatever this is right now. you didn’t call her about a song. you called her because you needed to talk to someone who doesn’t make you feel the way i do.”
the words sat in the air between you.
you watched them land. watched the way his expression tightened, then closed.
“you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
you let out an air-filled laugh. his shirt had slipped further down your shoulder. you didn’t fix it.
“then explain it to me,” you said. “explain why you needed forty-one minutes with someone else at almost two in the morning. explain why you can be soft with her and then come in here and go cold again. explain why the second things get quiet you go looking for someone who isn’t me.”
his jaw flexed. the muscle jumped under the skin.
“you’re really doing this again?” he asked. the control was starting to fray. “every time i take one breath that isn’t about you, you decide it means something. i needed to talk to someone who wasn’t already waiting to turn every little thing into a problem.”
“someone easier. someone who doesn’t see you.”
the words came out quieter than the ones before them. they still landed.
he went still.
“that’s what this is,” you continued. your voice had started to shake, and you hated it. “you let me close enough to see how lonely you are and then you punish me for seeing it. you go looking for someone who doesn’t know the weight of you. someone easier. someone who doesn’t notice when you disappear.”
“stop.”
“no.” you took a step closer. the floorboard under the edge of the rug creaked. “i think i’m the only person who actually sees you, and it scares the shit out of you. so you go find someone who doesn’t care enough to notice.”
for a second, the only sound in the room was the faint tick of the clock and the wind moving against the large windows of his bedroom. you watched the words hit him.
when he spoke again, his voice was lower. colder.
“you think you understand me. you think because i let you into my bed and my schedule and the private parts of this life that you somehow earned the right to diagnose me. the right to invade my privacy.” his eyes had gone dark. “you went looking for a reason to be angry, and then you made one up out of thin air. that’s not me leaving. that’s on you.”
he let out a short, angry breath.
you watched the way his jaw tightened, the way something cold and final settled behind his eyes. whatever he was about to say, you could already feel it cutting.
“it’s immature,” he said. “going through my phone, standing outside the door listening. turning one conversation into some big betrayal. it’s immature, and it’s exhausting.”
the words hit with enough force that your ears rang for a second.
“fuck you,” you said.
the two words came out quiet and precise.
he blinked once, like he hadn’t expected them. then something in his expression shifted; not softer. darker. the kind of focus that made the air in the room feel thinner.
“say that again,” he said.
your pulse was already too high. the anger was still there, hot and sharp, but underneath it something else had started to move, something that had been sitting under the entire fight, waiting.
“fuck. you.”
he closed the space between you in two slow steps, arriving so close that you had to tip your head back to keep looking at him. the warm scent of his skin hit you like a freight train. you hated how much your body still reacted to it. you hadn’t felt this much of his attention in weeks. the type of attention that was charged and locked completely on you; it made your composure crumble.
your breath had gone shallow. you felt it happen, and you couldn’t stop it. the small, traitorous catch in your chest, the way your thighs pressed together under his shirt for half a second before you forced them still. heat had already started gathering low in your stomach, slow and heavy, and the thin fabric of the shirt suddenly felt too rough against your skin.
your pulse was visible in your throat. when you swallowed, the sound was soft but unmistakable in the quiet room. his eyes flicked down, tracking all of it. the tight breath, the shift of your thighs, the way your nipples had gone tight under the soft black cotton… and when they came back up, something darker had settled in them.
“you’re shaking,” he said quietly.
“i’m angry.”
“is that what we’re calling it?” he murmured. his eyes dropped to your mouth for a second, then came back. “interesting.”
for a second, neither of you moved. the fight was still all over both of you. every accusation. every wound. it had nowhere left to go, except into the small amount of space still left between your bodies.
his hand came up, not fast, and he brushed his knuckles along the edge of the shirt where it had slipped off your shoulder, watching the path of his own fingers like he was deciding something. the contact was light, but it still sent a slow current straight down your spine.
“you want to keep fighting,” he said, voice rough now, “or do you want me to shut you up?” his hand slid from your shoulder up the side of your neck, thumb resting against your pulse so he could feel exactly how fast it was going.
the question was filthy in its simplicity. the heat flared low in your stomach, sharp and completely honest. you hated that he could still do this to you. you hated that the answer was already in your body before it reached your mouth.
he moved his thumb over your pulse slowly, and when you didn’t back away, he tightened his hand slightly, just enough to drag you forward by his grip on the side of your neck until your mouths collided. the kiss was nothing like the ones he’d given you when he was being soft or careful. it was all teeth and leftover venom from the fight.
he walked you backward without breaking the kiss, one hand locked on your throat, the other shoved under the hem of his shirt to grab onto your bare hip. your shoulder blades hit the cool glass of the window with enough force to knock a small sound out of you. the temperature contrast made you shiver: the chilled surface against your back, the heat of his bare chest sealing you in from the front.
you made a small, broken sound against his lips and he answered it by pushing closer, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against him. you could feel how hard he already was. the knowledge sent another pulse of heat between your legs, humiliating and electric.
the anger was still sitting under your skin, sharp and useless, while your body opened for him like it had been waiting for exactly this.
his hand on your hip moved to find you completely bare underneath the shirt. two of his long fingers slid between your legs without any warning, and the sound he made when he felt how wet you already were was filthy. low. almost disgusted with how much he liked it.
“jesus christ. you’re soaked. standing here calling me a liar meanwhile you were dripping down your thighs for me.”
he didn’t ease into it. he pushed those two fingers inside you in one thick, deliberate stroke and curled them hard against the front wall. your head knocked back against the glass with a soft thud. a choked, helpless noise left your throat before you could swallow it.
“that’s it,” he said, voice low and mean right against your cheek. “make that noise again. let me hear what all that righteous anger sounds like when i’ve got my fingers buried inside you.”
he fucked you with his hand right there against the window, rough and relentless, the slick, filthy sound of it loud in the quiet room. the heel of his palm ground against your clit on every inward thrust. his other hand stayed on your throat the entire time, thumb stroking the frantic pulse under your jaw.
“you went through my phone,” he said, almost conversational, while his fingers kept working you open with that same punishing rhythm. “stood there looking at me like i betrayed you. and look at you now. spreading your legs the second i touch you. dripping down my wrist.”
you tried to speak. it came out as a moan that cracked in the middle. he laughed under his breath, dark and satisfied. he pulled his fingers out slowly so you could feel every inch of the loss. they were shiny under the low lamplight, coated in you. he lifted them between your faces so you had no choice but to see.
“open.”
you did. without hesitation. he pushed both fingers into your mouth, and you tasted yourself. he watched your lips close around them with an expression of pure possession.
“suck. taste how wet you got while you were calling me lonely.”
you obeyed even while a tiny part of you still wanted to scream at him. the contradiction sat heavy in your chest as you sucked his fingers, tongue working between them. a thin strand of saliva connected his fingers to your bottom lip when he finally pulled them free. he wiped it across your mouth with his thumb and then kissed you again, deep and claiming, tasting yourself on your own tongue.
while his mouth was still on yours, you dropped. your knees hit the carpet, soft but sudden. you kept your eyes on his as you reached up, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pajama pants. you dragged them down his hips, freeing his hard and thick cock, which was already leaking a clear bead at the tip.
he looked down at you for a long second, something dark and approving moving behind his eyes.
“such a good girl,” he said, voice low and rough. “didn’t even need to tell you. so eager for me.”
one hand came to the side of your face, thumb brushing once along your cheek before settling under your jaw, tipping your head back just enough. he pushed his cock between your lips with a low, controlled exhale. the stretch of your mouth around the thickest part of him burned in the best way. he groaned at the feeling. low, almost pained, and the sound went straight between your legs, another pulse of wetness slipping out of you.
he held you there, nose pressed to the warm skin of his stomach, until your eyes watered and your throat fluttered around him. only then did he pull back just enough to let you drag in a rough breath before pushing in again. the rhythm he set was deliberate and deep from the start. spit started to run down your chin. your eyes kept watering. he never looked away from your face.
“that’s it,” he said above you, voice rough and strained. “just like that. look at you… so fucking perfect like this.”
tears slipped from the corners of your eyes and tracked down toward your temples. he wiped one away with his thumb without ever slowing the pace of his hips, the gentleness of the gesture completely at odds with how deep he was pushing into your throat. the contrast made your heart rate skyrocket. you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper on the next stroke, just to hear the way his breath stuttered.
he pulled out suddenly. a thin, glistening string of spit connected your bottom lip to the head of his cock for a second before it broke and fell. you were gasping, chin wet, lips swollen and red. he was breathing hard too, chest rising and falling, the earlier anger still sitting under the surface but softened now into something hungrier.
“get on the bed.”
he stood over you while you climbed onto the bed with shaky legs, still breathing hard, the taste of him thick on your tongue. you scooted back toward the middle of the mattress, the oversized shirt riding up your thighs. he watched every movement like he was deciding how much of the fight he still wanted to punish out of you.
“lie back.”
you did, but slower than he wanted. a small, stubborn delay. his eyes narrowed.
he climbed onto the bed after you, knees spreading your legs open as wide as they could go. the shirt was still on. he didn’t take it off. he just shoved the fabric up past your hips and left it bunched under your breasts, so you stayed half-covered, and somehow more exposed by it. one hand pinned your thigh open. the other wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking once, slow, watching your face.
“still angry?” he asked, voice low.
you swallowed.
“yes.”
“good.” he dragged the head of his cock through the mess between your legs, coating himself in how wet you still were. “stay angry. i want to feel it when i fuck it out of you.”
he lined himself up and drove into you in one long, brutal stroke that punched the air straight out of your lungs. the stretch was sudden and perfect and almost too much. your back arched hard off the mattress, and a high, cracked sound tore out of you before you could stop it. he didn’t give you time to adjust. he set a hard, deep rhythm immediately, hips snapping forward like he was still answering every accusation you’d thrown at him.
“fuck. there it is. that’s the noise i wanted.” he pulled almost all the way out so you felt the drag of every ridge and vein, then slammed back in hard enough that the bed frame knocked against the wall. “still think i’m lonely? still think i need somebody else when i’ve got this tight little pussy wrapped around me like it never wants to let go?”
you tried to answer, but it came out as a filthy, desperate whimper. he laughed under his breath, dark, and drove into you harder.
“say something,” he ordered. “you had plenty to say five minutes ago.”
you dug your nails into the flexing muscles of his back hard enough to leave marks. he hissed through his teeth and fucked you harder for it, like the small pain only fed him. your words came out shaky and defiant at the same time.
“this still doesn’t make you any less of a liar.”
“say it again,” he caught your wrist and pinned it above your head, fingers locking tight around it. “say it while you’re full of me and see what happens.”
he kept the pace punishing. deep and angled precisely to drag against the spot inside you that made your vision blur at the edges, deliberate, like he was trying to drag the fight out of your body through pure force. the wet slap of skin against skin filled the quiet room. your free hand continued to claw at his back. he didn’t slow down.
“look at me,” he said.
you did. his eyes were dark, focused, still carrying the edge of the argument, but something more possessive was at the forefront.
“you’re the only one who gets me like this,” he said, voice rough, almost angry about the admission. “you know that? the only woman in my bed. the only one i let see me when i’m like this.”
the words hit differently than the earlier cuts. they landed lower. your breath stuttered.
he felt it. his rhythm stayed hard, but the angle changed, deeper, more claiming.
“say it,” he muttered. “say you’re the only one.”
you shook your head once, still trying to hold onto the last of the anger, but your voice betrayed you.
“i’m the only one.”
“louder.”
“i’m the only one.” it came out broken. “you’re… fuck. you’re all mine.”
something in his expression cracked open at that. the last of the pure anger bled into something darker and more possessive. he dropped his forehead against yours, still fucking you in long, heavy strokes that made the headboard knock softly against the wall.
“that’s right,” he said, almost to himself. “all yours. and you’re going to take it.”
he released your wrist only to shift his weight, and he hooked one of your legs over his elbow, and the new angle made you sob openly. the slick, filthy sound of him driving into you was the only thing you could hear. the soft slap of it, mixed with the low broken noises you were making and the occasional sharp, controlled exhale from him.
sweat was starting to slick both of you. a drop fell from his temple onto your collarbone. the clean soap smell from his earlier shower was gone, replaced by the thicker, heavier scent of sex and warm skin and the faint metallic edge of leftover adrenaline from the argument. your hands slid down to his moving hips, feeling the powerful flex of muscle under smooth skin every time he thrust forward.
he pulled out without warning, causing you to make a desperate, needy sound of protest that would have embarrassed you any other night. he ignored it completely. before you could reach for him, he had already flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing. the motion was effortless, almost careless. one second you were on your back, the next your face was pressed into the sheets and your hips were dragged up until you were face down, ass up, the oversized shirt still bunched under your chest.
he shoved the soft black fabric further up your back in one rough drag, exposing the full line of your spine. his palm settled between your shoulder blades, warm and heavy, and he pushed down until your chest was flush to the mattress and your ass was higher in the air. the position left you completely open. you felt the cool air against how wet you were, felt the way your thighs trembled trying to hold the angle.
“arch your back for me,” he said, voice low and rough. “deeper. let me see how good you take it.”
you did. you arched as deep as the hand between your shoulder blades would allow, presenting yourself. he made a dark, approving sound and lined himself up again. the head of his cock dragged through the mess between your legs once, twice, before he sank back into you in one thick, unforgiving stroke that forced a broken cry out of your throat.
the new angle was deeper; every time he pushed himself to the hilt, you could feel him in your stomach. his hand stayed planted between your shoulder blades, the other tangled in your hair, not pulling yet, just holding, using the grip to keep your back in that deep, obedient arch.
“that’s it,” he muttered. “just like that. good girl. taking me so fucking well.”
you could barely answer. every thrust punched little broken sounds out of you that you couldn’t swallow. your fingers clawed at the sheets. the pressure in your stomach was building too fast, too sharp, the earlier fight still sitting under your skin even as your body opened for him completely willingly and desperately.
he felt it. the way you started tightening around him. the way your thighs started to shake harder.
“you close already?” he asked, almost mean with it. “after all that anger you came at me with, you’re about to cum on my cock this fast?”
you tried to speak. it came out a desperate, high sound. he answered by fucking you harder, the hand in your hair finally tightening so he could pull your head back just enough to deepen the arch even further. the stretch of your throat, the burn in your scalp, the relentless drag of him inside you, it all stacked too high.
you finished hard around him, a full-body shudder that made your arms give out. the sound that left you was raw and helpless. he kept fucking you through it, drawing it out until your thighs were trembling and you were gasping into the sheets, oversensitive and still pulsing around him.
he pulled out before he could follow you over the edge.
the sudden emptiness made you whine. he didn’t give you time to recover. he flipped you onto your back again with the same effortless strength, climbing up your body until he was straddling your chest. his cock was slick, and he wrapped one hand around the base and used the other to tip your chin up, and slapped the tip against your lips.
you opened your mouth without him needing to say a word, and he fed his cock back into your mouth slowly this time, not thrusting, just letting you taste. the flavor of the two of you mixed together was thick and unmistakable: salt and heat and the evidence of how hard you’d just come for him. he held himself there, watching your lips stretch around him, watching the way your tongue moved under the head like you couldn’t help it.
“that’s it,” he said quietly, almost gently under the filth. “clean it up. taste what you just did to me.”
he stayed like that, not fucking your throat, just letting you clean him with your mouth while his free hand stroked your hair. the earlier anger had softened into something darker and more possessive, but the edge was still there; satisfied, claiming, and completely locked on you.
“good,” he murmured. “just like that. take your time.”
after a minute or two of letting you worship him with your tongue, he pulled free with a wet sound, moved back down your body, and pushed your thighs apart with both hands. for a second you thought he was going to fuck you again immediately. instead, he lowered his head between your legs and put his hot mouth on you without any warning.
the first long, flat lick made you cry out sharply. you were still sensitive from your orgasm, and his tongue was relentless. broad strokes over your swollen clit, then pointed and precise, then dipping lower to push inside and taste exactly where his cock had been minutes ago.
he ate you like he was starving and angry about how much he needed it at the same time. two fingers pushed back inside you while he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked in a steady, devastating rhythm. the dual sensation built another orgasm almost immediately, faster than you thought possible.
“fuck” was all you managed to get out as you slammed your thighs tight around michael’s face.
he lifted off of you for a second, just long enough to shove your thighs back down onto the mattress, opening you up again. his mouth was shiny. his eyes were dark.
“don’t you dare cum yet,” he warns, voice dripping with lust. “you cum when i say. not before. you hold it.”
you whimpered, already shaking, the edge so close it hurt. he watched your face for a second longer, making sure you understood, then dropped his head again.
this time he was even meaner with it. his tongue worked in tight, focused circles while his fingers curled hard against the front wall, dragging over the spot that made your vision blur. every time the pressure started to tip too far, he eased off just enough to keep you right on the edge, panting and trembling, your hands fisting the sheets.
“michael—” you choked out.
he hummed against you, the vibration making your hips jerk.
“not yet.”
he kept you there, holding you open with his forearms, eating you like he had all the time in the world and zero intention of letting you fall until he decided. your thighs were shaking so hard the muscles burned. every breath came out broken. the need was so sharp it almost felt like pain.
“ask me nicely,” he commanded.
“please—” you choked out, the rest of your plea turning into loud moans as you started wiggling against his grasp, the sensation being too much.
“use your words.”
“please let me finish. please, michael, please. i need it. i’ll be a good girl, i promise.”
he sealed his mouth over your clit again, sucked hard, and curled his fingers deep.
“give it to me,” he ordered, voice rough and right against you. “right fucking now.”
your body broke on the command. the orgasm ripped through you so hard your back arched clean off the bed, a raw, helpless cry tearing out of your throat as you pulsed around his fingers. he stayed right there through all of it, licking and sucking every wave until you were shaking and oversensitive and trying to twist away.
only then did he slow down, pressing one last open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh while you tried to remember how to breathe.
“there it is,” he murmured. “that’s two. my turn, mama.”
he didn’t give you long to come down.
he moved up your body slowly this time, almost deliberate about it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he settled between your legs again. you were still trembling, thighs weak, the aftershocks of the second orgasm still flickering under your skin. he looked down at you for a long second: flushed, wrecked, lips parted, chest rising too fast. the sight made his cock twitch.
he hooked both of your knees over his elbows and folded you open, pressing your thighs back toward your chest until you were nearly bent in half. the stretch pulled at your hips. the position left you completely vulnerable, completely exposed. he held you there, looking down between your bodies at where you were still shiny and swollen from everything he’d already done to you.
“look at you,” he murmured, voice low. “still so wet. still open for me. so beautiful.”
he lined himself up and pushed in with one long, thick stroke that made you gasp and pull on his hair that was dangling in front of your face. the angle was devastating. he sank so deep you felt it in your stomach, every inch dragging against places that made your toes curl, and your back try to arch even in the folded position. a high, shattered sound tore out of your throat before you could stop it.
he stayed buried to the hilt for a moment, just breathing, letting you feel the full stretch of him. then his hand came back to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, warm and steady. the light pressure was enough to make you flutter hard around his cock on instinct. the sudden clench dragged a low, rough sound out of him.
“fuck,” he breathed, forehead dropping against yours for a second. “that’s it. just like that.”
he started to move.
slow at first. deep. every thrust rolled all the way in until his hips were flush against you, then dragged back out almost to the tip before pushing in again. you could feel every ridge, every thick inch, the way your body stretched to take him. his hand stayed on your throat the entire time, the steady pressure keeping you grounded while the rest of him took you apart.
“you wanted nasty,” he said, voice completely wrecked now. “you wanted a fight. you wanted to push until something broke. this is what you get. my cock rearranging you until you forget every single word you said.”
you tried to answer. the words came out broken and shaky as he bottomed out again.
“you were such a bad girl earlier. going through my phone. coming at me the way you did. and now look at you. all you can think about is how full you are. how deep i am.”
you shook your head weakly, barely able to form words. every thrust forced little helpless noises out of your throat that you couldn’t swallow. your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks.
“say it,” he ordered, breath hot against your mouth. “tell me that’s all you can think about right now.”
“you—” you gasped as he ground against you especially deep. “you’re so deep i can’t. can’t think about anything else—”
“good girl,” he dropped his forehead against yours again, still rolling his hips in those long, deliberate strokes.
he kept the pace deep and measured on purpose, grinding against you on every inward thrust just to watch your face change. the third orgasm built slower this time, heavier, coiling low in your stomach and spreading outward until your thighs were trembling against his arms. every time he buried himself completely, you clenched around him harder, and every time you did, he made a low, satisfied sound like he could feel exactly how close you were.
“that’s it,” he murmured against your mouth. “squeeze me just like that. show me how sorry you are.”
his hand on your throat stayed light but constant, the pressure making everything feel sharper, more intense. you could feel your pulse against his palm. you could feel how hard he was inside you, how he still hadn’t cum, how every deep stroke seemed to push him closer too. the air between you felt thick. every breath mixed. every small sound you made seemed to pull another rough noise out of him.
“you’re getting so tight,” he said, voice starting to strain, the rhythm losing a little of its control. “i can feel you shaking. you’re close again, and i’ve barely been back inside you.”
you nodded frantically, eyes locked on his because he wouldn’t let you look away. the pressure in your stomach had become almost unbearable. every thrust dragged against the front wall, every grind of his hips pushed you closer, the hand on your throat keeping you right there in the moment with him.
“michael—” his name came out cracked and pleading.
“i know, baby. i know.” he drove into you harder, deeper, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room. “you’re gonna cum with me this time. i want to feel it. i want to feel it while i fill you up. don’t you dare look away.”
you couldn’t have looked away if you tried. his eyes were locked on yours, dark and focused and almost desperate under the control. the coil inside you kept tightening, low and heavy and relentless, until it felt like you were balanced on the edge of something that might ruin you.
“take it,” he ordered, voice rough and breaking. “take all of it. cum with me, mama. right now.”
you came with a raw, wrecked cry, your whole body locking up around him so hard it almost hurt. the way you clamped down dragged him right over the edge with you. he buried himself as deep as he could go with a low, broken groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you in thick, pulsing waves. you felt every single one of them; hot, heavy, flooding you while your body kept fluttering and squeezing around him like it was trying to pull him even deeper. the shared orgasm rolled through both of you in long, overlapping waves that seemed to last forever. your thighs shook hard against his arms. his forehead stayed pressed to yours. both of you were breathing like you’d been underwater for too long.
he stayed locked against you through all of it, hand still on your throat, cock still buried to the hilt, letting every aftershock pass between you. he stayed inside you for a long time after, longer than he needed to, like he wasn’t ready to break the connection yet.
neither of you spoke. the only sound in the room was the slow, uneven pull of your breathing and the faint tick of the clock on the nightstand. his hand had slipped from your throat at some point and now rested against the side of your neck, thumb stroking absently over your pulse like he was checking that it was coming down. his forehead remained pressed to yours. every few seconds one of you would shift the smallest amount and both of you would feel it; the residual heat, the wetness, the way your bodies were still soft and open and tangled together.
eventually he eased out of you with a quiet, careful sound. the loss made you flinch. he noticed. he always noticed.
“shh,” he whispered, voice rough and low. “i got you.”
he reached down between your bodies and gently wiped the mess from your thighs with the soft inside of the discarded towel from his shower, slow and thorough, like the act itself was part of the apology. only when you were clean did he guide your legs down from where they’d been folded against your chest, rubbing the faint ache out of your hips with warm, careful hands.
then he pulled his oversized black shirt back down over your body, smoothing the soft fabric over your stomach and thighs like he was tucking you back into something safe. only then did he shift onto his side and gather you into him.
you went willingly. your face found the warm hollow of his neck without thinking. his skin still smelled like clean soap and sex and the faint trace of cologne that always lived at the base of his throat. his hair was still slightly damp against your cheek, the soft curls brushing your temple every time he shifted.
one of his arms slid under your shoulders. the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against the full length of his body until there was almost no space left between you. he even hooked one heavy leg over both of yours, the weight of him becoming its own kind of comfort.
for a while, he just held you like that, breathing you in. you felt the soft press of his mouth against the side of your neck, then higher, against the hinge of your jaw, like he was grounding himself the same way you were. his hand moved in long, absent strokes up and down your back. every so often he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, or your temple, or the damp hair at your hairline. the silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore. it was quiet in the way that felt earned.
then, soft against your hair:
“i’m sorry.”
the words were quiet. honest. no edge left in them.
he exhaled slowly, the breath warming the side of your face.
“i’m sorry i got so angry. and defensive.” his hand kept moving on your back, steady and gentle. “i should’ve just reassured you instead of shutting down. i love you, and i hate that i made you feel like you had to go looking for answers.”
you felt the apology settle somewhere deep in your chest. your fingers curled lightly against his collarbone.
“i’m sorry too,” you whispered into his neck. your voice came out small and a little rough. “i shouldn’t have gone through your phone. i should have trusted you. i just… i heard you laughing with her, and it scared me. i thought—”
his arm tightened around you immediately.
“hey.” he pulled back just enough to look at you. his eyes were soft in the low light, the earlier darkness completely gone. he lifted one hand and brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, fingers lingering against your cheek. “i’m not going anywhere. you hear me?”
you nodded, but he wasn’t finished.
“i’m not leaving you.” his thumb stroked once over your cheekbone. “she’s just someone i’ve worked with for a long time. that’s all it was. i promise.” he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your forehead, then another to the space between your brows. “you have nothing to worry about. not with me. not with this.”
the words landed deeper than you expected. something in your throat tightened. you closed your eyes and let yourself lean into the touch of his mouth against your skin.
he kept talking, voice low and steady, like he needed you to feel every word.
“you’re the one i come home to. you’re the one i ask to stay. you’re the one in my bed every night. i know the album has been taking too much of me. i know i’ve been distant. but none of that means i’m pulling away from you. it just means i’ve been tired and stupid about how i handle it.” his hand slid up into your hair, cradling the back of your head. “i’m still here. i’m still yours. nothing about that has changed.”
you turned your face further into his neck, breathing him in. the solid warmth of his body, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers kept moving gently through your hair… it all wrapped around the leftover fear and started to quiet it.
“i got so scared,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “talking to her sounded so easy. and things between us haven’t felt easy in a while.”
“i know.” he kissed the top of your head again. “and that’s my fault too. i should have been better about making sure you still felt chosen even when things get busy. i’m going to be better about it. i promise.”
he shifted slightly so he could pull the covers up over both of you. the sheets were cool at first, then warmed quickly from the heat of your combined bodies. he tucked them carefully around your shoulders, then settled you more firmly against his chest, one leg still draped heavily over yours so you were completely surrounded by him.
for a long time after that, he just held you. his hand kept up its slow path along your spine. every so often he would tip your chin up and kiss you; soft, closed-mouth, lingering kisses that had nothing to do with the earlier heat and everything to do with reassurance. you kissed him back the same way, slow and quiet, letting the tenderness settle into your bones. between the kisses, he kept murmuring things, half against your mouth, half against your skin. you could hear the whispers, little broken pieces of “i’ve got you” and “you’re safe” and “i’m right here.”
the house around you felt different now. the earlier emptiness had eased. the dark beyond the windows no longer felt quite so large. his heartbeat under your cheek was steady and real. the scent of his skin, the weight of his arm, the quiet way he kept murmuring soft things into your hair… all of it wrapped around you until the last of the fight finally loosened its grip.
you fell asleep like that, tucked against him under the covers, his hand still moving slowly up and down your back, his mouth occasionally brushing your temple in the dark.
and for the first time in weeks, the quiet didn’t feel like distance.
HEY MY LOVELIES I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT UR REQUESTS OR UPDATING UNSUNG!!
i’ve been so busy and just have not had the time to sit down and write anything of quality or value lately 😔. but trust me i see the requests and i will be updating soon !
synopsis: Michael finds himself drawn to the older neighbor that just moved in.
cw: unprotected sex, creampie, edging, perv!Michael, masturbation if you squint, softdom!reader, sub!Michael, caught (?) age gap (21&30) missionary, cowgirl, mentions of religion, oral f!receiving, use of n word
Michael walked out the house and towards his brothers, orange juice in one hand, his book in the other. He eyed the U-Hal trucks across the street, his brows furrowing. “When did someone move in?” Michael questioned as he sat down on the lawn chair, “Don’t know yet, couldn’t get a good look at em’” Jackie replied as he put on his sunglasses. “I saw hair, definitely a woman.” Tito called out as he shot the basketball at the hoop.
“Fool anyone can have hair.” Marlon smacked the back of his head, “You know what I fuckin’ mean, don’t be touchin’ me.” Michael rolled his eyes as he opened his book, immediately getting lost in the pages.
Jackie smacked Michael’s arms repeatedly making Michael groan, “Quit smack- Look!” Michael raised his brows as he lifted his head from his book looking across the streets. “Oh that’s one bad mama jama.” Jackie whistled.
Michael watched you walk down your porch steps, the tight short sleeve cropped sweater, perfectly revealed your curves, abs glistening from the sun, paired with dark blue skinny jeans that shaped your plump ass perfectly. “That is one fine woman.” Marlon mumbled as he walked to the fence to gawk at you from afar.
Michael was speechless, he hadn’t seen someone so gorgeous and goddess like in his life. It’s like you glowed perfectly in the sun, your blown out curls hung low around your shoulders.
“Dibs.” Jackie called out as he stood up, adjusting his basketball shorts. “Nigga you don’t get to call dibs.” Marlon argued, his eyes still following your every move.
“What you thinkin’ ova there Mikey?” Tito looked towards Michael, “That you guys are ridiculous.” Michael replied, finally tearing his gaze from your face. “Oh don’t act like you weren’t eye fuckin’ her with us.” Michael scrunched up his face in response, “Do you have to be so vulgar?”
“You know this missionary stuff is getting tired, you gotta lighten up.” Jackie grabbed Michael and pulled him to the fence, “You see that? That is a goddess, I can tell one night with her and she’ll ruin you.. make you forget all about your little rules.” Jackie whispered in his ear as he pointed at you.
“All of yall are dirty for thinkin’ about women like that.” Michael exclaimed as he shook his head, “You’re only sayin’ that because you don’t get any action, I’m telling you, let a woman have one night with you, you won’t be the same man.” Marlon chimed in, leaning towards Michael.
“I won’t be doing that till I’m married you fools just have no self control.” Tito sighed loudly, “You’re gonna be missing out, but for now.. every man’s for themselves, I’m gonna get her.” Jackie cockily stated, biting down on his bottom lip. “Let the best man win.” They all side fist bumped as they stared you down from afar.
Michael’s face twisted up, they talked about women like they were some object to win over. It was disgusting. Michael felt clear attraction towards you but he wasn’t disrespectful about it, he thought women were the high of this world. He wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for them, thats why he believed they shouldn’t be talked about like that, like they were beneath you.
You felt eyes on you as you set down a box on your front porch, you turned around and saw five boys looking over at you from their fence. You raised your hand and waved with a smile before returning back into your house.
“She was definitely waving at me.”
Hours later you were going through your boxes, unpacking your kitchen supplies when there was a sudden knock on the door. You furrowed your brows and stood up from the wooden floor, footsteps approaching your front door. You swung the door open revealing a short black older woman, standing next to her was a skinny and tall, black man with a small fro, dressed in a long sleeve striped shirt that paired with black jeans. His hands rested behind his back. “Hi, I’m Katherine and this is my son Michael!” She smiled and extended her hand, “I’m Y/N” You shook her hand with a smile, “We live right across the street and I just wanted to welcome you into the neighborhood.”
“How sweet of you, I’m just unpacking right now.” You ran a hand through your curls, “Oh, If you have any trouble unpacking and setting things up, I’ll get one of my boys to help.” Michael flashed a smile from beside her, “You sure? I don’t wanna be a bother.” She shook her head no, “Absolutely, my son’s don’t mind helping out, trust I’ve raised them properly.”
“Wait, I have some leftover cookies just a small thanks for your kindness.” You jogged to the kitchen and back, carrying a small tray of chocolate chip cookies. “Feel free to have them.” You extended the tray with a smile. “Thank you sugar.”
“Have a nice day.” Your eyes flickered to Michael, his eyes already on yours. He quickly looked away as he turned around, following behind his mother. The eye contact was short but intense.
You closed the door and went back to unpacking until you decided it was time for a break and a shower. You walked into your bedroom, stopping by your window as you took off your top.
Michael walked into his bedroom with a sigh, dropping his book on the bed, He sat down on his chair and rolled back with a huff. Something moved in the corner of his eye, making him snap his head towards the window.
Michael’s eyes widened, his brows raising unbelievably high. He had a clear line of vision to your bedroom, you were undressing right in front of the window but in Michael’s eyes it’s like he was getting a strip tease. You had him in a trance that you weren’t aware of.
He watched your breast spill out of your top, bouncing from your movements, He watched you shimmy out of your tight jeans, revealing your heart shaped ass.
When your body faced the window he got clear slight of your belly piercing, Michael bit down on his bottom lip, he couldn’t believe himself. He really watched you get undressed like some perv and it didn’t help he was hard now too.
Michael shook his head and looked away, thinking of anything to get rid of his annoyingly hard boner. He closed his curtains with a sigh. “Bad Michael.” He muttered to himself as turned around.
You stepped out the shower and wrapped your towel around your body, you walked into your bedroom looking for your skincare items. “Shit.” You muttered to yourself when you couldn’t find them. You realized you left the box outside.
You tightened the grip on your towel and walked downstairs, water droplets dripping down onto the wooden floors. You opened your front door and smiled when you saw the small box near the curb still there.
“Thank god.” You closed the door behind you as you quickly ran to the box, You grabbed it and ran back to your door but it didn’t open. “Are you kidding me?” You groan and kicked the door, stubbing your toe in the process. “Fuck that hurt.” You tried to go around to the back but that was locked too.
You groaned before quickly walking across the street, knocking on the door softly. “This is so embarrassing.” You muttered to yourself as you waited at the door.
The same boy from earlier opened the door, his eyes widened as his eyes dropped to your figure, your boobs dared to spill out of the short towel you had your body wrapped up in. “This is embarrassing, But I.. locked myself out of my house and I need help.”
Michael let out a breathless chuckle, forcing his eyes to stare up at you the entire time. “Uhm what can I do?” He clasped his hands together, “My bedroom window is cracked but I can’t climb up there.” You smiled nervously as you shifted in your spot. “I’ll get the ladder from our garage then head over there.” You smiled and let out a breath in relief.
“Thank you!” He nodded and walked towards his garage as you walked right back to your house, waiting patiently. He carried the ladder across, you bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him set it up and climb up.
Michael opened up the window with a grunt and stepped inside, He stopped in his tracks when he saw your pink laced panties sitting on your floor. His breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Bad Michael.” He whispered to himself as he walked out your bedroom, You waited at the front door patiently, looking around frantically.
Michael swung open the door, you smiled widely. “Thank you, Thank you!” Without thinking you pulled him for a hug, your boobs pressing against his chest, through your towel.
Michael stiffened up, his hands staying still at his sides. “No problem.” You smiled and pulled away, You leaned down to grab your box and stepped inside as he walked out. “Thanks again sweetie.”
Michael nodded with a smile and put his hands in his pockets.
He’s kinda cute you thought to yourself as you walked upstairs, “What a day.” You murmured to yourself dropping the box on your bed.
Michael found himself reluctantly pulling the curtains back open, He knew it was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn’t stop himself it’s like he was under a spell. Your spell.
You lathered yourself up in lotion, massaging your boobs. Michael felt his dick harden, straining against his jeans painfully tight. You turned around to face your full body mirror when you noticed something in your reflection. Your window was exactly in the same position as the Jackson’s across the street.
The curtain was open, your brows furrowed and you grabbed your compact mirror pretending to look at yourself in the small mirror, you pointed it to the side and you saw him. Michael sat in his chair watching you undress from the window. You smirked to yourself as you closed the mirror.
“Jackson’s boy a perv.” you muttered to yourself as you walked out the view from the window. This was gonna be fun after all.
Michael found himself knocking on your door, his thoughts racing all over the place. You walked to the door and swung it open, revealing Michael. His eyes traveled down your body, you were still in your night gown that clung to your figure, Your boobs pushed up at the top.
“Hi, My mother mentioned you needed help setting up your bed frame?” You smiled, looking him up and down. “Yeah, you’re right on time!” You stepped to the side and he walked in, his hands placed behind his back.
“Would you like something to drink?” He shook his head no, “I’m fine, thank you.” You simply nodded and grabbed your wine glass, “Follow me.” You swiped your robe to the side as you walked upstairs, He looked down at the steps instead of eyeing your exposed cheeks.
“Thanks for the help, as I got older I just lost some of my strength and couldn’t hold up these pieces myself.” You lie as you walked into your bedroom, sipping on your champagne. “It’s totally fine.”
“You don’t look a day over 20.” Michael complimented, a smile gracing his lips. “Why thank you, I’m thirty.” His brows raised, “Really?” You nod with a smile, “My brother’s and I thought you were way younger.”
“You guys talk about me?” You questioned, leaning on your nightstand. “My brothers kinda have a crush.” He admitted with an embarrassed laugh, You push off the nightstand and sit down next to him. “What about you? You don’t have a crush?” You questioned, leaning towards him slightly. His breath hitched, all he could manage was a breathless chuckle. “I- uhm.” You laugh at his nervous behavior, “I’m kidding Michael.” He chuckles nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh.”
“Besides I already know you watch me get undressed from your window.” You stated, making his movements halt. His head snapping in your direction. “I- I-” You placed a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. “I’m sorry.”
“You know it’s wrong.. right?” He nodded, his lips forming into a frown, “So why’d you do it?” You look up at him through your lashes, “You’re just so beautiful.. I’ve never felt something like this before, you have to believe I’ve never done something like this before.” He ushered out as he faced you, “How can I believe you Michael?” He chewed on his bottom lip nervously, “Please forgive me- I’ll never do something like that again.”
You bit back a smirk, “Do you think you deserve my forgiveness?” He shook his head no, looking down at the floor, “No, I did something unforgivable.” You scooted back and spread your legs open, “Come right here Michael.” You tapped right in between your legs, “Back to my chest.” He hesitated before simply obeying you. His breath uneven as he clenched his fist. Michael was scared out of his mind.
“I think you deserve to be punished.” He leaned back into your chest, your boobs flushed against his chest. You dragged your finger up his thigh and let it rest on his crotch. “T- this is wrong.. I can’t do something like this, it’s not pure.” Your brows raised, “This is wrong, but not watching me undress like a perv without me knowing?” His words caught at his throat, not knowing how to respond. You were right after all.
“Y- you’re right, I’m sorry.” You smirked and unzipped his pants, He squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his lips harshly. You pulled out his throbbing member, a bead of precum resting on his tip. “You’re claiming for this to be your first time doing something like this, but you’re already leaking and hard for me.” Michael’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at his embarrassingly hard cock. “I c- can’t help it.” He rasped, his chest heaving up and down.
“That innocent missionary boy is just an act, huh?” You whispered into his ear, Michael shuddered your cool breath tickling his ear. “N- No.” He whined, feeling your finger drag up the base of his cock.
“Then why are you so hard?” Michael chewed on his bottom lip, He didn’t know what to say, How could he explain every time he saw you, it felt like he was under a trance.
“Cat got your tongue?” You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, fisting his length lightly. You slowly stroked him, up and down. Michael grunted, his eyes squeezing shut. “Open your eyes Michael.” He shook his head no, so you stopped, letting him go. His eyes flew open at the emptiness. “I’ll stop, if you don’t keep your eyes open.” He looked back at you with a frown, “Okay.” He muttered, looking back down at his cock as you wrapped your hand back around his length.
You brung your arm up and down, twisting your hand at the top. Michael’s moans immediately sounded the room. He squirmed in your grasp, his nails desperately clawing at the wooden floor beneath you. You gripped him tighter, speeding up your strokes.
Michael moaned your name loudly, his hips bucked to get out of your grasp. “I- I can’t- s’to much.” He shook his head, You pushed his hips backs down, swinging your leg over to lock him in place. “You’re being a bad boy, Michael.” He grunted with a frown, you stopped at the tip, rubbing your thumb around his tip to spread the Precum. “I- I’m sorry, it just feels s- so good.”
“Stay put and take it, okay?” He whimpered with a nod, You smiled and rested your chin on his shoulder, stroking him slow and tight. You rubbed his Precum down his shaft, coating his length.
“P- Please.” Michael whined. His hips rocking slightly, You twisted, clenched, release, repeat. Keeping that routine until he reached his breaking point, his moans and whimpers getting louder.
“Some- Something’s coming.” Michael clenched your thighs, sweat beading on his forehead, his small curls stuck to his forehead. He chanted your name like it was a prayer, “It’s c- coming.” You took your hand off his throbbing member. Michael bucked his hips chasing for the warmth feeling of your hands wrapped around his member.
“Bad boys don’t get to cum Michael, this was a punishment after all.” You cooed, rubbing his leg slowly before you got up. “Now get yourself together and set the frame up for me sweetie.” You give him a smile before grabbing your wine glass and walking away.
Michael’s brows furrowed, How was he supposed to just forget about what just happened? He sighed and put his throbbing cock back into his pants, and got right to work on your bed frame.
Michael grunted as he rutted his clothed dick against his mattress, clenching his pillow between his teeth. He was currently tryna recreate the feeling you gave him hours ago, but it didn’t feel as good as your hands.
He whimpered before finally giving up with a sigh, Flopping onto his back. He stared up at his ceiling before his body made the choice for him and got up. He adjusted his pants and walked out his door and down the steps.
“Where you going Mikey? It’s getting late.” Jackie’s words made him halt, “For a walk, I’ll be fine, just need to clear my head.” Jackie nodded looking back at the TV as Michael walked out the door.
You hummed as you poured yourself a glass of wine, Whitney Houston playing in the background lowly on the speakers. A knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, your brows furrowed as you took a sip of your wine before walking to the front door.
You looked through the peephole and smirked once you saw Michael, you knew he would be back. His innocence act didn’t fool you, boys would be boys at the end of the day.
You unlocked your door and opened it, “What a surprise, What are you doing here Michael?” He fidgeted with his hands, “I tried to fight it, obey my mother’s rules and stay pure.. but I can’t. You make me feel alive. I don’t know what it is.” Michael confessed as he stepped closer. “Is that so?” He nodded quickly, His hands moving to behind his back.
You bit down on your bottom lip before stepping to the side, opening your door wider. He walked in immediately, “You sure you want this Michael?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” You smirked as you closed the door, “Follow me.” Michael happily obliged and followed right behind you as you walked up the steps.
You walked into your bedroom, stopping at your nightstand by the window, leaning back. “Have you ever gaven oral?” He shook his head no, “Get on your knees.” He sunk down onto his knees immediately, you hiked your leg up onto your window sill.
He was eye level to your cunt, already wet from his confession. “Take them off.” You raised your hips slightly and he lifted his hands to pull down your soaked laced panties. “Start slow, flick your tongue up and down.” He nodded, “Then circle around here.” You pointed to your clit. He grabbed your thighs and buried his face between your legs without any hesitation.
His tongue immediately latching onto your warm cunt, “Fuck.” You let out a breathless moan. He flicked his tongue up and down slowly, just like you instructed. His tongue circled around your clit before sucking it in his mouth.
You tossed your head back with a moan, gripping onto his curls. Michael’s head moved up and down between your legs, plunging his tongue inside your sopping hole. Michael lost himself in the simple bliss of pleasuring you, forgetting all about his family back at the house.
Marlon jogged up the steps, swinging Michael’s door smack open. “Mikey?” Marlon peeked his head in, walking inside his bathroom, face contorting to confusion. Marlon went to walk back out but stopped in his tracks when he saw something in the corner of his eye.
It was you in direct line of sight from Michael’s window, Your leg on the window sill, your nightgown bunched up at your waist. Your hands held onto a head with black curls with your back arched. Marlon’s eyes widened.
Marlon quickly ran downstairs, “All of you, come upstairs now!” Marlon shouted as he reached the bottom step, “What is it?” Jackie jumped from the sudden yelling. “Just come up here nigga!” Marlon ran back up the steps, quickly sliding back into Michael’s room.
“What the hell are you on about now Marlon?” Tito questioned as he walked right behind Jackie, “Why are we in Mikey’s room? He’s on a walk.” Jackie went up to Marlon, “Look!” His finger pointed at the window, revealing you getting ate out but the man’s identity wasn’t clear from this angle.
“Holy shit.” Randy pushed through from behind, “I can’t believe Michael has direct view to her bedroom and missing this.”
Michael in-fact wasn’t
“Not like he would’ve looked anyway, He’s too busy playing missionary for mother.” Jackie joked, his eyes glued to the lewd scene in front of him.
“I can’t believe first week of her moving in and she’s already getting laid by someone.” Marlon tried to look at the man between her legs, “I swear that guy seems familiar- It might be Mr. Walker from down the street, he’s the only other black guy on this block with a fro.”
Marlon shrugged, “I’m glad Michael’s on that walk, We would’ve never got to witness this with his pure ass.”
The man lifted up from between her legs, wiping his mouth with a smile. Their jaws dropped, their voice and movements coming to a halt. It was Michael all along. “That can’t be.” Randy broke the silence, Marlon rubbed his eyes then looked back up. “That’s not Mikey.” Tito stated in pure disbelief, “Walk my ass!” Jackie shouted, his eyes basically popping out of his sockets.
“Can’t be the same Michael who’s been preaching about innocence! Oh he’s never gonna hear the end of this.” They watched you grabbed Michael by his shirt and pull him out of the view of the window.
“That little negro is having the time of his life right now, I set up her couch for nothing.” Jackie grumbled as he walked out the room.
Michael in-fact was.
You pushed him down on the bed, straddling his lap. You kissed down his neck as your hands found his zipper and slowly unzipped his pants.
“Can you rub it again?” Michael looked up at you with glossy eyes, “We’re gonna do more than just rubbing Mikey.” You look down at him, a small smirk creeping up on your face.
You pursed your lips and spit onto his cock, Michael bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes tracing your every move. You rubbed the spit down his shaft, lubricating it with the Precum that dripped down from his tip. Michael whimpered watching the lewd scene in front of him.
Michael was unbelievably big, a good 9 inches. You’ve never put this size in you and it had been a while since you had sex. You raised your hips and positioned his tip at your entrance. Michael’s breath quickened, he couldn’t believe the scene in front of him after claiming chastity his whole life.
You slowly sunk down, stopping at the tip. Michael moaned loudly from the intrusion. You cursed with a whimper. His mushroom tip already expanding your walls. You lifted up then slowly lowered down, your gummy walls massaging his tip perfectly. You wanted him to beg and crave for it.
Which didn’t take long.
Michael bucked his hips with a moan, wanting to feel even more of you. You lifted up completely making him whimper at the sudden emptiness. “P- Please!” He begged, his hands gripping the sheets. You gripped his cock, positioning it at your entrance once again.
“Tell me how badly you want it Michael.” You commanded, voice laced with pure authority. “I- I want it so bad, I wanna feel all of you! Please give it to me.” You could’ve came just from his begging, a man so pathetic for you, turned you on so badly.
“Good boy, I think you deserve a reward. Hm?” He nodded rapidly, raising up. You smiled at his eager behavior as you sunk down on his length slowly, Michael’s member stretching you out entirely. A loud moan fell from the both of your lips from the intrusion.
“G- God.” A breathless moan is all Michael could manage, your tight walls wrapped around him, a sensation he’s never experienced before. Making him feel like he was out of this world. “S- So big.” You grasped his shoulders, using him for balance as you bounced your ass down on his length.
The sound of skin slapping, loud moans and whimpers had now filled the room. Even when you lifted up your pussy would just suck Michael right back in, it didn’t wanna let go. Michael gripped your hips, his eyes screwed shut as he chanted your name like a prayer. His whimpers and moans getting louder with each bounce.
“Open your eyes Michael.” His eyes fluttered open, His face scrunched up with his mouth hanging open. “S’to much!” He tried to slow your pace down but you grabbed his hands, moving them to your breast.
“I thought you wanted this Mikey?” You pouted your lips, “I- I do.. you just feel sso g- good, I can’t take it.” You chuckled lowly and slowed your pace down. you rocked your hips back and forth, you clit mushing against his pubic bone with each rock. Michael’s mouth hung open, his loud moans and whimpers feeling the room once again.
You leaned down and captured his lips in a slow but passionate kiss, your tongue exploring his mouth. His hands roamed your body, finding your breast once again. His fingers fidgeting with your nipple. He tugged and twisted it slightly. You gasp lowly, pulling back from the kiss. You smiled, looking down at him with lidded eyes. He was learning slowly.
“Did that hurt?” You shook your head, “That was perfect Michael.” You let out a breathless moan, You rolled your hips and his tip perfectly kissed your cervix. A loud moan erupted from your lips, you wrapped your arms around his neck and collapsed on his chest.
Michael whimpered loudly in your ear, His hands firmly gripping your waist as you rolled and thrusted your hips. You needed him to hit that spot again. “I- I need you to do something for me.” You flicked your tongue on his neck, making him moan.
“I need you to be on top Michael.” His brows furrowed, “I’ve never- I don’t know how.” You raised up to look into his eyes, “I’ll guide you, okay?” He nodded hesitantly, You whimpered as you lifted off of his length and fell onto your side, rolling onto your back.
Michael maneuvered onto his knees, Hovering over you as you scooted back onto the pillow. You spread your legs and he gripped your thighs pulling you closer to him. “Ease in, right here.” You grabbed his length and lined it up with your entrance.
He rubbed his tip between your folds, lubricating it with your slick. He pushed in slowly, filling you up as he pushed your legs back to your chest.
“Now don’t just thrust recklessly, move your hips like this.” You gripped his hips and made him move, He allowed you to control his body. “Like this?” He began to move on his own thrusting slow and deliberate, his hips bucking up slightly. “Yes!” You tossed your head back with a loud moan. “F- Faster!” Michael obliged immediately, quickening his pace. He let go of your legs and leaned down, his hands resting on either side of your head.
Michael looked down between your bodies watching his cock disappear with each thrust, the lewd scene turned him on even more. He was fascinated with the way your hole swallowed him up, his dick bulging in your stomach. “S- ssooo g- good!” Michael cried out, his hips moved with a mind of its own, thrusting relentlessly deep into you.
“Just like that Michael!” Your mouth hung open, a choked sob leaving your mouth, feeling him stab your cervix as he plowed into you. “G- God! You’re so d- deep.”
The room was musk, your scent mixed with his along with sweat and the faint smell of your vanilla candle. You clung to him desperately, hiking your leg over his waist, pressing the back of your heel into his butt, pushing Michael even deeper than he already was.
The bed frame rocked against the wall loudly, the sound turned you both on even more, just showing how lost you two were in each other. The bed creaked with each thrust. Michael raised his head to look at you, He bit down on his bottom lip looking down at your fucked out state, your mouth was hung open, eyes closed, brows knitted, drool seeped out from the side of your mouth. The fact that he was making you feel like this sent him into pure bliss. The boy who was looked down on his whole life made you feel so much intense pleasure.
“C- Can I kiss you?” Your eyes fluttered open, “Yeah baby.” He leaned down and captured your lips in a fast, passionate kiss. It’s like he wanted to devour you in that moment. His tongue moved with yours in a bruising heat. Moans slipping past every so often.
You clenched around him harshly, making him pull back with a loud cry. “I’m c- close!” He sobbed into your neck, a single tear running down his face from the overwhelming sensation. “Me t- too! Keep going Michael.” You rubbed the back of his head as his hips snapped into yours vigorously.
Michael babbled something incoherently into your neck, as his once consistent rhythm began to falter. His thrust became sloppy and slow.
“Cum for me, Michael.” Michael let out a choked out sob as he came long and hard, his hips thrusted into you one final time. His hips jerked, as his body convulsed against yours. He spurt thick warm ropes into your womb, filling you up completely as his body went rigid.
You came shortly after him, rocking your hips under him as your legs shook around him. A wave of ecstasy washing over you as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your cream seeping out from the side.
Michael pulled out with a whimper, falling to his side with a sigh. Both of your chest heaved up and down as you tried to come down from your highs.
“It’s late, you should get home Michael.” You rolled over to look at him, He nodded with a sheepish smile. “Yeah.” He grabbed the tissues on your dresser and wiped his dick from your essence. He stood up and stepped back into his pants and boxers.
“Can we keep doing this?”
“I thought this was wrong and impure.” His cheeks flushed, “I can lie to my mother.” You smirked, “Breaking the rules I see.”
“Only for you.” He muttered as he fixed his clothes, “Of course we can keep doing this Michael, I’ll let you know when.” He smiled and you waved as he left out your room.
Michael fixed his hair as he left out your house, He quickly jogged across the street, He quietly and slowly opened the door, met with pitch black. He closed the door quietly and the lamp flicked on, revealing his brothers.
“How was your walk?” Michael jumped, his back hitting the door. “Don’t scare me like that, and my walk was fine.” Michael lied, his eyes avoiding all of his brothers. “Sure was a long walk.” Marlon rubbed his chin, crossing his legs.
“Yeah. I was really stressed, the walk relieved me.” Tito smirked at Michael’s words, “You sure it was the walk that relieved you?” Michael gulped with a nod. “It’s late.. I’m gonna go- Did you know the window in your room has a direct view to the neighbors.” Michael fidgeted with his fingers, “No, I wasn’t paying attention to that.. that’s gross.” Michael mumbled looking down at the floor.
“That’s funny, I could’ve swore we all saw you eating the neighbor out from your window.” Michael choked on his own spit, Clearing his throat. “T- That was- Don’t tell mother!” Michael pleaded, his hands clasping together, “Oh we won’t but trust we will be using this against you, Mr. Missionary.” Michael chuckled nervously and went to walk away, “Wait, was it good?” Michael bit the inside of his cheek, he nodded slowly then rushed upstairs from embarrassment.
It was more than good
a/n: finishing and clearing out my drafts! Hope you enjoyed and send request 🤍
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ sexual contents (unprotected vaginal penetration, doggy style, explicit language, edging, sub!michael, dom!reader, masturbation (m & r receiving), lots of pleases lol), nickname usage (baby, mama, daddy, mommy, good boy… (i’m testing the waters 👀)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as michael wanted to be the one to call the shots, his body was drawn to your demands.
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐫𝐢𝐬é (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) double posts today idk who i’m feelin like but i love being in the mood to write! subby mike is on my mind heavy and i just have so many ideas lol be prepared
i do this for @mikesbian my michael subby soul sister
based on this anon’s request <3
A VELVETY NIGHT AT THE HAYVENHURST ESTATE, 1979.
Your ceiling fan turned lazily above you and Michael’s bed, stirring the heavy July heat that still was clinging stubbornly to the estate in Encino, California. The sounds of the night thumped faintly through the open window, and inside, very little lighting was casted from the single lamp draped with a maroon scarf, bringing a warm crimson shadow across your shared bedroom.
Michael was on his knees behind you, one strong hand braced on the mattress beside your hip, the other resting lightly on the small of your back. You were on all fours in front of him, ass raised, back arched in the same perfect curve that always made Michael’s mouth go dry. Your skin glowed under the lamplight, and your small textured gold hoops swayed gently from your ears. You wore nothing else except the thin gold chain around your neck that Michael had gifted you when you started dating years ago.
His dick–thick, dark, and slick as ever–was resting heavy against the cleft of your ass. Michael had been teasing the head along your wet folds for the last few minutes, just like you had told him to. Every time he tried to push it in, you shifted forward just enough to deny him.
“Not yet,” you said, voice amused. “You feel how wet I am, baby? That’s all for you.” You moaned, turning around to bat your eyelashes at the man. He was handsome, and whenever you two had sex, you knew Michael loved when you were in control. “But you don’t get t’ put it in until I say. Keep rubbin’. Nice and slow.”
Michael exhaled hard through his nose. “Mama… you’re killin’ me.”
“Am I?” You looked back over your shoulder again, eyes half-lidded, a little smile curling your mouth. “Or am I just remindin’ my man who decides when his dick gets used tonight?” You argue, biting your bottom lip. “Keep going, just the head. Drag it up and down nd’ be louder for me, baby.”
Michael obeyed. The broad head of his dick slid through your folds again, coating itself, catching on your entrance, then sliding past without sinking in. The slick sound filled the quietness of the room, both of your noises combined leaving echoes through the walls. Michael’s free hand flexed on your hip. He wanted to grip harder, to pull you back onto you, but he didn’t. You specifically told him not to.
“That’s it,” you murmured. “Good. You’re bein’ so good to me right now, Michael. Tell me how it feels.” You whimper.
“Feels like heaven nd’ hell at the same damn time,” he said, his voice croaky. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. Hot. I can feel you twitchin’ every time I feel it… I want inside, mama. Bad.”
“I know you do.” You say, reaching back between your legs and wrapping your fingers around the base of his dick, holding him steady while you rocked your hips just enough to keep the head kissing your entrance without letting Michael in. “But don’t think you’re goin’ in until I decide you’re ready. Nd’ right now, you’re not ready. You’re still thinkin’ you get to fuck me how you want. That’s not how this works tonight.”
Michael’s thighs tensed. “I’ll do it however you want. Please, angel… you know that.”
“I do know that.” You gave him a slow stroke with your hand, then guided the head to your entrance again and let just the very tip slip inside. The tight, wet heat closed around him for one teasing second before you pulled forward and off him completely. He made a frustrated sound that made your pussy twitch.
“Ah-ah. Stay still, Michael.” You looked back again, eyes sharp with authority. “You don’t thrust. You don’t chase. You stay still nd’ wait for me to take what I want. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The words came out automatic, and something in your expression softened even as the teasing edge stayed sharp. You reached back again, took hold of him, and this time you pushed back slowly–taking the first thick inch, then another, then stopping with only half of him buried inside of you.
“There,” you breathed. “You feel that? That’s all you get for now. You stay still. Don’t you dare try nd’ bury the rest. I move, you take it.”
Michael’s jaw was tight. He kept his hips locked in place, even though every instinct screamed at him to drive forward. The heat of your pussy around the head and upper shaft was almost unbearable for him. You clenched deliberately around him, then relaxed, then clenched once again in slow pulses that made his dick throb harder than ever.
“Baby… fuck. You’re squeezin’ me so good. Let me in deeper, please.”
“Ask nicer.”
Michael swallowed. “Please, honey. Please let me feel all of that pussy. I’ll stay still after… I’ll do whatever you say. Just.. let me have it.”
You smiled and pushed back another inch, then another, until he was fully seated inside of you. Both of you groaned. You stayed there a long moment, rolling your hips in tiny circles so Michael could feel every ridge and flutter without the friction he craved dearly.
“All the way in,” you said softly. “Nd’ you’re still not allowed to fuck me. I fuck you. You feel how deep you are? How I’m holdin’ you? That’s mine.” You started, gripping the fluffy sheets underneath you.
“S’ all mine tonight, Michael. Every move you make is mine. You cum only when I say–nd’ not one second before.”
“Y-yes. Yes ma’am,” Michael managed. “It’s all yours, baby. All of it.”
You began to move–slow, calculated rolls of your hips, pulling almost all the way off him then sliding back down in a controlled rhythm that kept him deep but never gave him the hard, fast strokes his body was begging for. Every time his breathing sharpened and you felt that telltale swell of his sex inside you, you slowed to almost nothing, just the wet, filthy sound of your pussy gripping him while you stayed still.
“Not yet,” you said each time, voice steady. “You feel that edge, daddy? That pull? That’s me. I put it there, nd’ I decide when it breaks.”
Michael’s forehead dropped toward your shoulder. His hands stayed where you had told him to keep them–one on the mattress, one lightly on your hip. He was shaking with the effort of holding still when you stopped.
“Honey… I’m right there. Been right there for what feels like forever. Please… let me move. Just a lil’ bit.”
You reached under yourself and wrapped your fingers around the base of his dick where it disappeared into you, squeezing firmly.
“You wanna move? Then you wait till’ I tell you to. Nd’ when I do, you go exactly as slow or as fast as I say. Clear?”
“Clear. Yes ma’am.”
You released the pressure and began rocking again, a little deeper this time, a little more purposeful. The wet slap of your bodies together grew louder. You looked back at him over your shoulder, watching his face the way you always did when you had him like this… vulnerable and begging.
“You look so good behind me, Mikey,” you said, voice thicker now. “All strong nd’ hard… doin’ everything I tell you even though I know you’re dyin’ to take over. That’s my good man. Tell mommy what you need.”
“I need to fuck you,” he said, his moans broken. “So deep, so hard. I needa’ feel you cum on this dick so I can fill you up.” He admits.
“But only when you say. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you want.”
Something shifted in you then–the pure teasing dominance softening into the switch the two of you loved. You reached back, found his hand, and guided it to your clit.
“Rub me while I ride you from the front, baby,” you ordered tenderly. “Make me feel good… and if you get too close, you stop dead. No matter how good it feels. You understand me?”
“I do, mommy. I promise.”
Michael’s fingers found your clit immediately, circling with the exact pressure you liked. You started moving with more purpose–longer strokes, while still maintaining your control. It was deeper though, and every time his hips twitched forward on instinct you slowed or stopped completely, forcing him back to the edge and holding him there. Sweat slicked the both of you. The room started to smell of sex and that faint sweetness of your expensive perfume Michael repurchased for you a million times.
“Mama… please. I can’t… it’s too much. You’re so wet nd’ I’m so damn full. Let me cum. Or let me make you cum first–whatever you want. Just… use me. Please.”
You slowed again, staying buried deep, looking back at your man with dark, sparkling eyes.
“You wanna make mommy cum, Mikey?”
“More than anything.” Michael pleads.
“Then you keep that hand right there on my clit. You keep stroking me exactly like that. And you fuck me the way I tell you to.” You demand, your face scrunching from the pressure.
“You don’t cum until I give you the word. Can you do that for me?”
“I can do anything for you.” Michael whimpers.
“Prove it.”
You braced your hands on the mattress and gave Michael the order with the roll of your hips. “Deep, Michael. Now, please.”
Michael began to thrust–careful strokes that made both of you moan. He kept his fingers working your clit in tight circles, matching the rhythm you set. Every time you felt him swelling harder inside you, you’d murmur quiet “slower” or “stop”, and it would instantly make Michael freeze, buried to the hilt, breathing hard against your back while you clenched around him in intentional pulses that kept him right on the razor’s edge.
The power kept sliding between the two of you. When you got close yourself, you would order Michael to speed up, then slow him again the second your orgasm threatened to tip you over. When Michael got too close, you would reach back, squeeze the base of his dick, and hold him still until the urge passed. Neither of you fully dominant for long–because both of you started submitting to the shared game of denial and control.
Finally, your voice went high and shaky.
“Faster, now. Harder… Don’t you dare stop, Michael. M’ close–fuck, Mikey, I’m so close–”
Michael drove into you deeper, faster, exactly as you asked him to, fingers still working your clit. The wet sound of the two of your bodies filled the bedroom. You came first–tight, rhythmic contractions that milked Michael hard, your moan muffled against the silk pillow as you shook underneath him.
The second your orgasm started to ease, you looked back, your eyes wild, and gave him the word he had been waiting for the moment you two started making love.
“Cum. Now, Michael. Fill me up… give it to me.”
Michael’s control shattered. He gripped your hips hard for the first time all night and buried himself as deep as he could go, pulsing hard inside you with a broken, grateful sound. You kept clenching around him through every spurt, drawing every bit of it out, whispering the filthiest praises to him the entire time.
“That’s it… good boy… give me every drop… fuck, I can feel you throbbing, Michael. So fuckin’ good for me.”
You stayed locked like this afterward, both of you trembling, Michael’s chest pressed to your back, your hand reaching back to stroke his thigh.
Michael eventually pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, his voice still extremely rough.
“You’re so dangerous when you get like that, honey.”
You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “Nd’ you love it.”
“I do.” Michael confesses, nuzzling behind your ear. “The next time we make love though… I’ll be the one havin’ you shaking nd’ beggin’.”
You smiled against the pillow, already sounding pleased at the idea. “We’ll see who ends up in charge.”
The two of you stayed tangled together on the bed, all sticky and worn out, already half-planning the next round of that slow and delicious torment–whoever happened to be calling the shots when it started.
⊹₊ ㆍ✿ㆍevery time i see pictures like these of Michael , side by side, i can't help but notice how he still is that little boy he was :(, he always had that sad look (first picture) and it js makes me so heartbroken, considering what he and his brothers went through.. ㆍ✿ㆍ₊⊹
₊‧.°.⋆ even though Michael did change a lot appearance wise (which was NOT his fault) his eyes and smile remained so beautiful and handsome :3 •˚₊‧⋆.
“Off the wall was released in August 1979, the same month I turned twenty-one and took control of my own affairs, and it was definitely one of the major landmarks of my life. It meant a great deal to me, because its eventual success proved beyond shadow of a doubt that a former child star could mature into a recording artist with contemporary appeal. Off the Wall also went a step beyond the dance grooves we had cooked up. When we started the project, Quincy and I talked about how important it was to capture passion and strong feelings in a recorded performance.” -Michael Jackson
