ăăâ â ⥠â ïčâoff the wall era! (ïœĄâąÌáŽ-)â§
ăăâ â ⥠â ïčâsummary : michael is a lovesick loser boy and you get off on that. you say jump, and he says how high. why? because youâre pretty, give him attention and you have the pussy he canât last three minutes in.
ăăâ â ⥠â ïčâbyi : smut! đ, submissive michael, mentions of face fucking.. but its not you getting your face fucked :), full on intercourse, reader is a D1 dirty talker, michael struggles with premature ejaculation, talks of loss of virginity, age gap (reader in mid to late twenties, michael is twenty one), strong emotional dependency, jealousy, codependent tendencies, idolization/idealization of a partner, insecurity (michael), power imbalance, bossy reader, lovesick michael. âdaddyâ is used to tease. reader is also a socialite. girl idk! thereâs a lot to unpack here.
The roller rink was pulsing with life beneath a haze of colored lights. Purple, blue and red beams chased each other across the polished floor, reflecting off sequined jackets and the mirrored disco balls suspended from the ceiling.
The venue itself smelled of an array of things: hints of red icee and cotton candy, colognes, heavy hairspray and cigarette smoke as music thundered from enormous speakers mounted in the corners, bass vibrating through the walls and floor alike.
The rink was one of Los Angelesâ worst kept secrets. On any given weekend, half the city seemed to pass through its doors, LA personalities, aspiring musicians and even well known ones, actors, and industry kids all looking for a few hours of normalcy beneath the disco lights. Michael had even performed there once or twice over the years, drawing crowds that packed the floor shoulder to shoulder. Tonight though, he was there because it was Friday night, the music was goodâor so he says.
He sat perched on the edge of a vinyl booth near the rink, one leg bouncing restlessly beneath the table. At twenty one, he occupied an awkward space between abandoning boyhood and stepping into superstardom. Off the Wall had transformed everything. People stared now. People whispered. Girls gathered the courage to approach him and then dissolved into nervous giggles halfway there. Yet somehow he still looked slightly uncomfortable with the attention, dressed in a fitted button down and dark bell bottoms, curls falling around his face as he watched the skaters glide by.
Across from him sat Bill, who had spent the better part of the evening pretending not to notice Michael checking the entrance every five minutes.
âGonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that, Joker.â
Michael looked away from the doors immediately. âDoinâ what?â
Bill chuckled. âKeep those feet still.â
Beside them, one of Michaelâs managers leaned back with folded arms. âSheâs not coming.â
Michael frowned. âWho?â
That earned him three unimpressed stares.
The manager laughed first. âRight. Sure.â
Michael rolled his eyes and reached for his orange juice, hiding a shy smile. âYou guys are trouble..â The real truth was embarrassing enough without them making a spectacle of it.
Youâd simply mentioned a few days ago that you might stop by the rink on Friday night around eleven. Any accusations that he was waiting for any particular person were completely unfounded. Baseless, even! The fact that heâd arrived early, picked a booth with a clear view of the entrance, and couldnât seem to stop looking toward the doors was merely an unfortunate series of coincidences. Right? Right.
The music shifted into another song, drawing a fresh wave of skaters onto the floor. Michael watched absentmindedly, fingers drumming against the side of his cup.
Unfortunately for Michael, the second he saw you every carefully constructed fantasy heâd been rehearsing in his head before he went to sleep these past couple nights went poof! Oh, baby had the vision planned out so perfectly too. You would arrive alone, right? Perhaps a little late knowing how you girls were. Your eyes would find him across the rink.. heâd wave you over with a pretty smile, say something clever to make you giggle, something charming to make you blush, and the two of you would spend the whole evening together. Simple! Romantic! And honestly.. the sort of thing that only ever seemed possible in his imagination.
Instead, you arrived wrapped in a world that had nothing to do with him.
You were laughing before you had even fully stepped inside, surrounded by friends who seemed to orbit you as naturally as planets around the sun. One of them hooked an arm through yours. Another leaned close enough to whisper something that sent you into another fit of giggles. You moved through the crowd completely absorbed in your circle, tucked safely inside a bubble of conversation and affection that Michael found himself staring at with an intensity that bordered on painful.
It was ridiculous, really. He knew that. These were your friends. People who loved you. People who had every right to occupy your attention. Yet all he could think about was how easily they had access to you. They could stand beside you without overthinking. They could make you laugh without rehearsing every sentence beforehand. They could touch your arm, lean into your space, steal your attention for entire evenings without their heart threatening to beat itself clean out of their chest. Michael hated the ugly little stab of jealousy the realization inspired but it settled in anyway, impossible to ignore.
The worst part was that you looked so happy. Not even looking for him. Not wondering if he had shown up. Not scanning the room in search of a familiar face. You were perfectly content exactly where you were and that simple fact managed to burst his fantasy more effectively than outright rejection ever could have. It forced him to confront the embarrassing truth that while he had spent the better part of a week thinking about you, you had probably spent the week simply living your life.
His fingers tightened around his cup as he watched you laugh again, your head tilting back beneath the colorful lights. God, you were beautiful. So beautiful it almost felt unfair. There was something doll like about you tonight, something soft and luminous that seemed untouched by the chaos around you. For a moment, Michael forgot entirely about the drink in his hand. Orange juice slipped over the rim and splashed across the table, but he barely noticed. The pounding in his ears had grown so loud that the rest of the rink seemed to fade into the background.
All he could see was you.
And all he could think, with a mixture of longing and frustration that made him feel like an awkward teen instead of twenty one, was that every single person standing between him and you suddenly felt like an obstacle because they were occupying the exact place he wished he was.
The pounding in his ears was so loud he didnât even hear Bill calling for him. âMichael.â
No response. âMichael.â Still nothing.
âYeah, that brothaâs starvinâ.â Bill says shaking his head, causing the other two in his party to chuckle at how adorably absurd this entire situation was.
The longer he watched, the worse it became.
At first, Michael told himself he was being dramatic. You had only been there a few minutes. There was no reason to assume you wouldnât acknowledge him eventually. No reason to let his imagination run wild simply because you were occupied talking with your friends.
Yet with every passing moment, his confidence seemed to shrink.
You looked so settled over there. Every now and then another person would stop to greet you, extending the circle around you further. You laughed, listened, smiled, completely absorbed in whatever conversation was unfolding. Meanwhile, Michael remained exactly where he was, nursing a cup of orange juice and feeling increasingly foolish for having spent the entire evening waiting for you.
The ugly little voice in the back of his mind began whispering all the things he hated most.
Maybe you hadnât come for him. Maybe youâd only mentioned stopping by in passing. Maybe you hadnât even noticed he was there.
His stomach twisted.
The more he thought about it, the more embarrassed he became. Suddenly every hopeful fantasy heâd entertained over the past week felt very childish. Of course you werenât looking for him. Why would you be? You had a life, friends, people you genuinely wanted to see. You were a socialite. The world did not stop spinning simply because Michael Jackson happened to have a crush.
Across the table, Bill watched the slow collapse unfold in real time. The slumped shoulders, distant stare, the deepening pout.
âDonât start.â
Michael frowned. ââM not startinâ anything.â Oh! He has a little funky attitude now.
âAlright now.â Bill warned and Michael looked away.
For a moment, Michael seriously considered leaving the booth altogether. Maybe heâd skate a few laps, find something else to focus on. Anything was preferable to sitting there feeling sorry for himself while you remained blissfully unaware of the emotional catastrophe taking place twenty feet away.
Then it happened.
Your laughter softened as the conversation around you shifted, and for the first time since you'd arrived your attention wandered. Almost absentmindedly, your gaze swept across the rink drifting over the crowd until it landed on him.
Michael forgot how to breathe.
The feeling was instantaneous and overwhelming. One moment he had been sitting there stewing in his wounded pride, thoroughly convinced that you hadnât noticed him all evening. The next, he found himself trapped beneath the weight of your attention, every insecurity heâd managed to accumulate over the last ten minutes suddenly feeling ridiculous.
Because you had noticed him.
And apparently, youâd noticed him quite a while ago. A smile began to form on your lips, and Michael felt his stomach drop for an entirely different reason.
It wasnât a grin nor was it playful enough to be teasing or sweet enough to be innocent. It was something far more dangerous than either of those things. A smile touched with amusement and recognition, as though youâd caught sight of something you found particularly endearing. As though the sight of him sitting over there, staring at you from across the rink like a lovesick puppy had confirmed something youâd suspected all along.
Heat climbed his neck and the longer you looked at him, the more certain he became that youâd seen everything.
Youâd seen him checking the entrance, seen him watching your group from across the room. Seen the way his mood had visibly soured the longer he convinced himself you werenât coming over.
The realization should have mortified him. Instead, all it seemed to do was make him feel validated.
God.
You looked beautiful.
The colorful lights flashed across your face as you stood among your friends on the rink, completely at ease in a way Michael had always envied. While he spent half his life overthinking every conversation, every interaction, every glance, you moved through the world so effortlessly confident that made everything look easy. You never seemed concerned with whether people liked you. They just did. You never chased attention because it found you anyway.
And right now, all of that attention was directed at him.
Neither of you looked away as the skaters continued moving around you. Music thundered from the speakers. Laughter echoed throughout the rink.
Yet somehow the space between you felt strangely quiet.
Then you lifted your hand.
Just one finger.
Crooked toward yourself.
Come here.
It felt like a command because it absolutely was, with the confidence of someone who already knew exactly what would happen next. And the truly humiliating part was that you were right.
Michael was on his feet before his brain had fully processed the gesture. His knee struck the edge of the table and all the drinks nearly spilled over as the booth rattled violently.
A chorus of protests erupted behind him as he nearly sent the entire setup crashing to the floor, but Michael barely heard any of it. He was already moving through the crowd, abandoning every ounce of composure heâd spent the evening trying to maintain.
Behind him, Bill watched the scene unfold with the exhausted expression of a man witnessing something both embarrassing and completely predictable.
âOh, man. That boy is gone.â
Because after all that moping, it had taken exactly one finger to get Michael Jackson moving. Not a greeting or even his name.
Just a look and a simple little come here.
And off he went.
You stood on the other side of the low barricade that separated the rink from the seating area, balanced easily on your own personal skates. Colored lights skimmed across the polished wood beneath your feet, catching on your jewelry every time you moved. Up close, Michael found you even more distracting. You smelled so good.
The journey across the rink had done absolutely nothing to improve his condition. If anything, it had made it worse.
âHi, Michael.â You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him, your smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.
âHi.â The response came out embarrassingly quiet.
For all the confidence heâd managed to summon while crossing the room, it deserted him the second he arrived. He was suddenly intensely interested in the floor, the barricade, the wheels on your skates, anything except your eyes.
A soft laugh escaped your lips. âYou look nice.â
Before he could respond, your hand rose to straighten his collar. The gesture was casual and like muscle memory, and Michael felt every nerve in his body come alive beneath your touch. Your fingers smoothed the fabric before sliding behind his neck, settling briefly against the nape.
Your acrylics scratched lightly through his curls just enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine.
You noticed the way his shoulders stiffened and your smile widened. âMiss me?â
Michael swallowed. The honest answer sat so heavily in his chest that he couldnât think of a clever way around it.
âYeah..â His voice was barely above a mumble.
You heard him but you pretended like you didnât just to hear him say it again. âHm?â
Then he nodded and a little louder, âYeah.â
Something softened in your expression, satisfaction. Youâd suspected that was going to be the answer and you were merely waiting to hear him say it.
âThatâs sweet.â
Michael felt his face grow hotter. You, meanwhile, appeared completely unaffected.
âGo get skates.â You ordered
Michael blinked. âPardon?â He wasnât listening, he was staring.
âGo get skates.â You gave his shoulder a light push. âYouâre not gonna sit over there all night, are you?â
âOh, right!â Another blink. âOkay.â
You stared at him.
Michael stared back.
A laugh escaped you. âMichael.â
âYeah?â
âGo.â
He nodded immediately. âRight. Okay.â Then he turned and started walking away to rent some skates for the night.
By the time the night was halfway over, the pattern had become impossible to ignore.
Michael had spent most of the night orbiting you.
Not hovering awkwardly across the room or lingering nearby under the pretense of doing his own thing. Deadass on you. Every time you moved, he ended up moving too. If you skated toward the opposite side of the rink, he followed. If you stopped to talk to someone, he appeared a few feet behind you waiting for you to get done. More than once, youâd looked over your shoulder only to discover him on your heels, wearing the innocent expression of a man who had absolutely no idea how heâd gotten there.
The funniest part was that he never seemed aware he was doing it, but you were no better.
At one point youâd hooked a finger through one of his belt loops and dragged him through a crowd because he kept getting distracted by people stopping to talk to him. Michael hadnât protested, he was right where he wanted to be and simply allowed himself to be steered wherever you wanted him, weaving obediently between skaters and crowds alike while your friends tried not to laugh. Which by the way? You didnât like very much, because you should always be the one giggling him out of his underwear.
Then later, there was a point where the music grew too loud and youâd grabbed his jaw to pull his face closer so you could hear him better.
âWhat?â
Youâd tugged him forward. âWhatâd you say?â
Michael had repeated himself, this time barely three inches from your ear. The poor thing had nearly short circuited.
Now he was standing at the concession counter retrieving the drink youâs sent him to get, and your friends were watching him with poorly concealed amusement.
âGirl,â One of them said, glancing between you and Michael. âHeâs been overly going. All night.â
A smile tugged at your mouth. âI know.â
Across the room, Michael accepted the drink from the cashier before immediately turning to look for you. The second he spotted you, he started heading back like clockwork.
You watched him approach, taking in the sight of him weaving through the crowd with such earnest determination that somehow managed to be both charming and ridiculous.
âHeâs just as cute in person, right?â you asked.
Your friend barked out a laugh. âHeâs cute but what if the shy thing is for appearances?â
You shrugged, not minding her. âIâve known him for a while through my dad, heâs really like that. I think itâs charming.â
âHow old is he again?â
âTwenty one.â
Your friend made a face. âGirl..â
âWhat?â You laughed. âIâm twenty (number).â
"I don't knowâ younger guys.. they be lowkey annoying.â
Your gaze drifted back toward Michael. He was almost there now, protecting the drink from being knocked out of his hands while navigating around people.
The sight made something warm settle in your chest.
âMm.â You tilted your head slightly, she eyes him. âHeâs been good to me though..â
Michael finally reached the group and immediately held out the drink youâd asked for and his expression brightened the moment you took it.
Like heâd just accomplished something so important.
You were feeling generous tonight, maybe even a little possessive.
That was the only explanation you could come up with later, because the way the evening had escalated felt almost absurd in retrospect. One moment Michael had been trailing after you everywhere you went, carrying drinks, accepting orders, allowing himself to be tugged through crowds by his ear whenever he drifted too far away from you. The next, you were standing beside him beneath the flashing lights, watching him laugh again at something one of your girlfriends said, and making a decision that surprised even you because usually you were much more.. tactful.
Maybe it was the way heâd spent the entire night looking at you or the fact that heâd never once complained. Maybe it was because every time you called his name, he appeared instantly.
Whatever the reason, youâd found yourself gliding up beside him as the night began winding down. Michael was midway through a conversation with Bill when you hooked a finger through the front of his shirt and pulled him down slightly.
He went without resistance.
Of course he did.
The music was still loud enough that nobody else could hear you as you leaned close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.
âYouâre coming home with me tonight.â You felt him go completely still. âSay bye bye to Bill and your people, âkay?â
For a moment, Michael simply stared at the floor and you watched the reaction spread down his neck. When he finally looked at you, there was something dazed in his expression, as though his brain had temporarily stopped functioning.
âOkay.â The answer came so fast you nearly laughed.
Not where?
Not why?
Not even a hesitant really?
Just: âOkay.â
You bit back a smile and wave at Bill as you glide away back to your table and Michael had barely managed three words of explanation before Bill figured it out.
Not that there had been much mystery to solve, the equation practically solved itself.
Bill sighed heavily. âYou serious?â
Michael nodded. âYeah.â
âShe askinâ or tellinâ?â Bill immediately had his answer when Michael coughed in response.
Michael looked down at the floor and Bill shook his head. âSon, one of these days youâre gonna have to stop jumpinâevery time that woman points somewhere.â
Michaelâs embarrassment deepened. âI donât do that.â
The thing was, Bill liked you. You made Michael happy. You were good to him. You looked after him in your own way.
Bill had no objections there. His issue was the complete collapse of Michaelâs spine whenever you entered the equation.
The boy had spent all evening following you around like heâd been hired for the job. âYou know she already likes you, right?â Bill asked.
Michael blinked. âHuh?â
Bill rubbed his face. âShe already likes you.â
Michael stared, the very suggestion seemed impossible to him. âBut..â
Bill already knew where this was going. âBut what?â
Michael shrugged awkwardly.
âSheâs..â
âPretty?â Michael nodded.
âSuccessful?â Another nod.
âOlder than you?â A smaller nod.
Bill threw his hands in the air. âAnd?â
Michael didnât answer, because that was the problem.
Somewhere deep down, Michael still couldnât understand why someone like you would choose him when you could have anybody. Meanwhile, everyone around him had been forced to watch you practically drag him around a roller rink all evening.
Bill snorted. âSon, if you donât quit feelinâ sorry for yourself."
Michael frowned. âIâm not..â
Bill laughed. âShe got you fetchinâ drinks, carryinâ her stuff, followinâ her around, and lookinâ at her like she hung the moon.â
Michael buried his face in his hands.
You looked over your shoulder at him across the room, probably to see what was taking so long and the second Michael noticed, he straightened.
Bill caught it and a long, exhausted sigh followed.
Then he patted Michaelâs shoulder. âGo on. Use protection.â
Michael sputtered. âYouâre talkinâ dirty! Iâm a gentleman.â
Bill shook his head. âYou hopeless.â
The funny thing is Bill didnât dislike the dynamic. He probably finds it adorable. He just spends a lot of the time trying, and failing, to convince Michael that being loved by a confident woman did not require acting like heâd been personally selected by royalty every single day. Michael, unfortunately, would continue acting exactly like that.
Because he loved bossy women.
You were beautifulâeveryone knew that. It wasnât exactly a revolutionary observation. People noticed when you walked into a room, they turned their heads and stumbled over conversations, found reasons to linger a little longer in your presence.
But Michaelâs problem had long since surpassed simple attraction, because your pussy was the closest thing Michael thought heâd ever get to experiencing heaven while he was still on earth.
The thing about Michael was that he was sort of person who experienced affection through proximity. He liked sitting close enough for your shoulders to touch. He liked feeling your weight beside him on a couch. He liked the absent minded ways you occupied space, the little touches that seemed insignificant to everyone else but somehow lingered in his mind for days afterward.
The truth was that he never quite got used to you, even more so because you were the one to take his virginity.
Some people eventually acclimated to affection, they normalized it and over time, they came to expect it. Michael never seemed capable of doing that. Every act of intimacy, no matter how small, retained its ability to affect him. A hand on the back of his neck. Your fingers smoothing his collar. Your arm looping through his. Tiny gestures that should have become ordinary by now somehow remained extraordinary.
Thereâs unfortunately just a small part of him still couldnât believe he was being chosen.
For Michael, intimacy was never something separate from affection. The two were hopelessly intertwined. Physical closeness carried an emotional weight that he couldnât easily detach from which is why heâs so enamored with you. Where other people might eventually grow accustomed to being loved, Michael seemed determined to remain grateful for it. The familiarity never dulled his appreciation.
Youâre no longer just the woman he has a crush on. Youâre the person he trusted with something deeply personal. The person who guided him through an experience he had spent years imagining, worrying about, romanticizing, and building up in his head.
The irony is that it probably makes him less focused on sex itself and more focused on you.
Because afterward, whatâs left isnât necessarily the memory of the sex. Itâs the memory of your kindness. Your patience. The way you looked at him during. The fact that you wanted him there with you. The feeling of being accepted completely, without performance or expectation.
For someone like Michael, that would be difficult to separate from love. Very difficult.
âFuck, Michael,â You feel breathless, hands resting on the sides of his abdomen as you wrap your legs around his waist. Michael balances his weight above you, palms spread out on your soft bedding as you pull him closer with each thrust deeper into your pussy. Your pubic bones met with each movement, curly bushes intermingling and creating a friction. âThat feel sâgood, baby. Canât believe youâre fuckinâ me this good..â
Michaelâs face twists with a cute strain, his eyes squeeze shut so tightly his brows pinch. Every muscle in his body goes rigid as he fights the overwhelming to pump his nut inside of you. He canât cum now. Itâs too early, itâs way too soon. He canât. He canât. Itâs barely been three minutes! But the filth spilling from your pretty lips in such a nasty tone makes his dick fucking throb and jerk against your tight walls. âLovey.. stopâstop.. stop talkinâ for a second..â
You know exactly what youâre doing, but you donât mind. Heâs been very generous with his mouth tonight and you canât even count the amount of times you used his tongue to get off. Emphasis on you using his tongue, heâs eager to please but he still needs a little guidance. So, usually when heâs between your legs, youâre practically face fucking him. Hands in his curly coils to hold him in place as you roll your clit along his tongue.
Your heavy breasts bounce and sway with each sloppy thrust, jiggling provocatively under his straining chest. You reach up, soft palms cupping his tense cheeks, tenderly stroking his sweaty skin as you whisper.
âLook,â You tilt his face down, forcing him to look directly beneath the two of youâmaking him watch. âLook at that dick fucking your pussy, daddy.â He lets out a particularly pathetic whine as the nickname, you only use it to tease him but he seems to like it even though.. heâs not really the âdaddyâ type. He watches as his slick, latex covered cock pushes relentlessly in and out of your pretty petaled pussy. The smooth wrapper makes his shaft glide effortlessly, pumping in and out as his dark skin contrasts against the lighter colored latex. Fuck, itâs pretty. All six inches of it.
âWhoâs pussy is this? Let me know..â You grab his jaw, making him look at you as you gently runs a finger down his bottom lip to watch it pop back into place.
âItâs mine..â He whimpers out.
âYeah? âs all yours?â You smile, slipping her ring and middle finger into his mouth.
âMhm..â He nods, closing his eyes again as he sucks on her fingers.
âLook at me, baby..â You say and he reluctantly does as heâs told. âI love watching you fuck me this good..â You look up at him with those big soft eyes, your expression melting into a breathtaking mix of pure adoration and overwhelming affection. Right now, thereâs nothing dirty in your gaze now, only a deep, lovesick tenderness that reciprocates his same feelings for youâand it completely unravels him. Seeing you look at him with such.. love is his absolute undoing, shattering his control instantly.
Michaelâs hips start to stutter and falter, his rhythm breaking as he approaches his high. His face contorts with distress, a mixture of pleasure and panic etched into his features.
âOhâmâgod..â He pants, his breath coming in ragged gasps. âCanât.. that's gonna make me..â
âMake you what, angel face? Cum?â You smile.
âI canâtâI really canât..â Thereâs really no warning.
Michaelâs body suddenly goes rigid and his hips press deep as he buries himself completely inside you. His muscles tense and twitch as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, filling the condom with thick ropes of hot, sticky cum.
Michael collapses fully onto you, his strength completely spent as his body trembles uncontrollably. His hips continue to rut instinctively, pathetic little twitches driving his spent cock deeper into your warmth as he rides out the overwhelming aftershocks. His face buries into you shoulder, whimpering softly.
âSorry.. sorryâfelt too good..â Thereâs always a sense of shame that sits on his chest because since heâs been having sex, heâs been struggling with prematurely finishing. But you always tell him itâs not his fault when he brings it up hours later, his body has never known a woman until relatively recently. It just makes his body notoriously hypersensitive and prone to finishing too soon. It takes some time to build an endurance. But what he lacks in lasting, he makes up for with his refractory period which is seemingly nonexistent.
michael jackson x f!reader ââââàšà§ââââ ⥠wc: 9.7k
synopsis: after convincing yourselves the kiss was just a one-time mistake, pretending nothing happened turns out to be a lot harder than either of you expected.
cw: smut, inexperienced (childhood?) bsf!michael, inexperienced!reader, sexual tension, making out, mutual pining, dry humping, oral (f!receiving) (michaels an eater in the making), implied masterbation, twister :p, oral (m!receiving), praise, nasty nasty nasty, loud vocal whiny michael, they r freaky ass virgins, otw/thriller!michael
part 1 (but u dont really need it to read this) might have a part 3 :p
also sorry but half-edited
youâd think nearly getting walked in on by an entire hallway full of his brothers wouldâve snapped some sense into michael.
the adrenaline from that close call â but mostly the kiss, if he was being honest â kept him wide awake for hours. by the next morning, heâd firmly resolved to leave the whole thing behind. you two were supposed to be best friends, after all. it was just a reckless lapse in judgment that both of you needed to quietly put away and never bring up again.
except neither of you were particularly good at pretending â and especially not michael.
he had always been guided by a pretty strict moral compass. between his upbringing and his own polite nature, he just wasnât the type of guy to fool around or treat people carelessly. he took things seriously, sometimes to a fault.
your friendship was the one thing in his life that felt safe and untouched by all the usual noise surrounding him. it was easy, it was real, and he kept a tight guard over it. but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest.
he wanted to be the gentleman he was raised to be, but every time he looked at you now, there was this need he couldnât set aside. the thought of blurring those lines and letting things get messy scared him to death.
he didn't want to be the guy who took advantage of a close moment, and he definitely didn't want to look across the room one day and realize heâd made things weird between you two forever.
the shift hit immediately over the next few days. it wasn't anything too crazy, but there were noticeable hitches in your usual routine. youâd be hanging out on the carpet in his bedroom at hayvenhurst, casually flipping through a crate of old vinyl records to find something to play, and youâd look up to ask him a question. but instead of looking at the sleeve in your hand, michael would already be watching you. specifically, your mouth.
every time you spoke about the most boring, mundane things â like what track to play next or what you wanted to have for dinner â his gaze would drop. heâd watch your mouth, his own lips parting the tiniest bit as he tracked the movement, not even fully aware of what he was doing.
in his head, a loop was running. he kept remembering the sweet taste of your lip gloss, the dizzying warmth of your mouth parting for him, and the way your tongue slid greedily against his. it had felt incredible. just thinking about it made a tight ache coil low in his stomach. he wondered what it would feel like if he leaned across the carpet right now, if he could feel your soft, wet mouth sliding down, wrapping tight around hisâ
no. michael caught himself, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a flush creeping up his neck. no, stop it. thatâs your best friend. you are not taking your thoughts there. heâd abruptly yank his gaze away, clearing his throat and nervously shifting his weight on the floor to hide the stiffness in his trousers, stammering out a hurried reply that did absolutely nothing to clear the thick cloud of tension left in the room.Â
by the weekend, the tension in the house was just getting to be too much. hoping a change of scenery would finally break the awkwardness, you both decided to get out of there and go for a drive.
you sat in the plush passenger seat of his light blue rolls-royce, the car parked under the sprawling canopy of a quiet, dimly lit street overlooking the valley. the street light cast a soft glow over the interior. you both had cups of soft-serve ice cream, the car filled with the easy, familiar chatter that always came naturally to you two.
"âm jus' sayin', itâs completely different when you're seein' it on a big screen," michael said as he gestured with his plastic spoon. "the way they did the transformation scenes in an american werewolf in london? 's like magic. rick baker is a genius, i'm tellin' you."
you snorted, shifting in your seat to face him. "you spent half the movie hiding your face behind your hands. you can't claim itâs âartistic appreciationâââ you used your free hand to flash quick air quotes, ââwhen you were literally too scared to look."
"i was not!" he protested, a laugh bursting out of him. he shrugged, shifting slightly in his seat. "i was studyin' the makeup effectsâ thatâs research. y'gotta look closely at how the skin stretches, otherwise y'don't learn nothin'."
"right, research," you teased, taking another bite of your ice cream. "is that why you gripped my wrist so hard i lost circulation?"
"you're exaggeratin' now," he grinned as a pretty flush hit his cheeks. "i was jus' makin' sure you weren't scared. i was protectin' you."
"oh, thanks. my hero." you nudged his shoulder with your own, a smirk playing on your face. "what, are you thinking 'bout quitting your music career to become a makeup artist now?"Â
michael let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at his cup. "no way," he murmured, swirling his spoon through the melting ice cream. "'s too messy. i'll stick to the studio." he flicked his eyes back up to yours, his smile softening. "but a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things. movies, painting, whatever... it all helps y'grow. y'gotta feed your mind, y'know?"Â
you hummed, nodding along.
gradually, the chatter died down into a still quietness. you scooped up one last bite of your ice cream, turning your head to look out the window at the sprawling valley lights as you ate it, unaware that the motion left a small dab of vanilla right on the corner of your lower lip.Â
michael was leaning his elbow against the steering wheel, watching you. his eyes locked onto the small white smudge. the silence stretched, growing warmer by the second, until the weight of his stare made you turn your head to face him.
your eyes met. neither of you looked away. the car suddenly felt a lot smaller than it did a second ago. heat bloomed in your cheeks under the weight of his gaze.Â
"what?" you asked, your voice a little breathier than you intended.
michael didn't answer right away.
"y'have a little..." he said, his voice trailing off as his gaze drifted back to your lips. he slowly reached across the center console towards you.
you held your breath as his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth to swipe the ice cream away. the intimacy of the touch made your pulse spike.
he drew his hand back, glancing down at his thumb before lifting his eyes to yours again.
without looking away, he slowly licked the vanilla from his thumb.
a hot rush of adrenaline zipped through you.
you swallowed against the dryness in your throat, nervously chuckling as you set your ice cream down in the holder. "thanks... guess iâm a messy eater."
"âs jusâ me here,â he murmured with a small smile. his fingers fidgeted with the steering wheel, though his eyes never left your lips, it was clear his mind was elsewhere. the silence grew so thick it felt like the air was running out.
michael stayed where he was, still leaning across the center console. he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your skin. he took a deep, steady breath before speaking.
â...can i kiss you?â he asked quietly.
you barely let him finish asking before you were already leaning in.
when his mouth finally met yours, michael didn't think it was possible to miss your lips this much. the touch of you washed over him like relief, erasing all the agonizing distance between you in an instant. it somehow felt even better than he'd remembered over the last few day. your lips were soft, carrying the sweet taste of vanilla ice cream.
the kiss started as a slow, but the lingering sweetness on your tongue made it impossible for him to hold back for long.
michael let out a breathy sigh against your mouth as his hand slipped from the steering wheel to cup your cheek. his thumb slid along your jaw, tilting your head to slant his lips deeper over yours.
the first tentative sweep of his tongue past your lips sent a jolt through him, drawing him closer, as if he could close the gap between the seats by force of will.
he devoured you, his breath coming in short gasps that mingled with your own. every soft clash of your lips against his felt heightened, amplified by the cramped dark of the car.
michaelâs mind went completely blank to everything except the way you responded to him, your hands finding the collar of his jacket and pulling him down, inviting the weight of him. a faint hum of approval vibrated in his throat when he felt your tongue slide back against his, matching his cadence with a hunger that rivaled his own.
he sucked your lower lip into his mouth, his hands drifted blindly down to your waist.
the center console dug into his side, keeping you frustratingly out of reach, but he refused to pull away. he needed you closer.
without breaking the kiss for even a second, he gripped your hips and hooked his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you up and over the center console.Â
you scrambled to adjust, your knees sliding onto the edges of his seat until you were straddling his lap. the sudden drop of your body onto his made michael let out a muffled whine into your mouth. he wrapped his arms securely around your back, pulling your chest flush against his as the kiss turned sloppier.
the heat inside the car was blistering. michael's broad hands settled firmly on your hips, holding you close. the pressure between your bodies made him shudder against your mouth.
he couldn't get enough. all the frustration that had built up over the past week spilled over as he shifted his hips up to meet you. the leather beneath him squeaked softly with the movement.
even through the layers of your denim and his trousers, the friction was almost too much to handle. michaelâs mouth grew clumsier, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, drunk on the taste of you and the ache tightening in his groin.Â
his head was spinning. he squeezed your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your pace, chasing the delicious rush every time he rocked up against you.
a quiet moan slipped from your lips as your hips rolled into his. the sound alone made his dick twitch against his pants. his grip tightened, his knuckles paling against your waist.
he was trembling all over, his breathing shot, warmth creeping up under his curls. the pace turned frantic, both of you losing your breath as your bodies rolled together in the cramped cabin of the car.Â
"oh... 'm gonnaâ" michael slurred into your mouth as his whole body shuddered.
"f-fuck," you whimpered, your fingers gripping his shoulders as your own climax threatened to crash over you.
desperate for a deeper angle, michael gripped your thighs and hoisted himself slightly higher in the seat, thrusting up hard to bury himself flush against you.Â
in his haste, his movement made your back bump into the center of the steering wheel, the horn blaring and piercing the quiet street.Â
both of you jumped, the sound cutting through the heat like a bucket of ice water. michael instantly lurched backward, his arm tugging you off the wheel as he tried to put distance between you, his head nearly hitting the roof.Â
"oh shit," you gasped.
his chest heaved like heâd just run a marathon. he stared at you with wide eyes, his lips swollen and red.Â
you were still straddling his lap, your hands clutching his shoulders while your heart battered against your ribs. the car was dead silent, save for the sound of both of your uneven breathing.Â
the absurdity of the situation hit you first, and an airy giggle slipped past your lips. michael blinked at you, startled, before his own shoulders relaxed and he huffed out a short laugh.
but it was very short lived. michael's head was spinning, his thoughts a mess. looking at you in his lap in the dim light, a wave of guilt washed over him.
"weâ we gotta stop," michael stammered. he dragged a trembling hand over his mouth, trying to steady himself, though his gaze kept slipping to your rumpled shirt. "we shouldn't... we can't be doin' this.â
you swallowed hard and forced yourself to nod.
but neither of you made a move to separate. the heat between your bodies was thick, your core still pressed flush against his stiff trousers, feeling the twitch of his erection right against you. michael swallowed hard, his hand dropping from his mouth to rest tentatively on your hip.Â
he looked so torn, caught in this battle with himself, and it made something soften in your chest. you didn't want him pulling away out of fear or some strict rulebook.Â
you leaned a little closer, reaching out to cup his jaw. your fingers slid along his warm skin, your thumb hooking under his chin to tilt his face up so he had no choice but to look at you.
he was so pretty it almost hurt. his soft curls framed his face in a messy halo, and his dark skin had flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears.
as your eyes locked, michaelâs gaze dropped to your mouth. his tongue darted out to quickly lick from his lower lip before he bit down on it hard, trapping it between his teethÂ
"what if... i don't want to?" you murmured, your heart hammering so hard against your ribs you were sure he could feel it. your free hand slid down his shoulder to catch his wrist. "i mean... remember what you said earlier? 'bout research? you said a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things to grow⊠and how will you grow if we donât⊠you know."
michael blinked, a breathless laugh escaping him. his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips.
"that... that was about the movies," he whispered, his voice dropping into a soft drawl as he stumbled over the words. he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing beneath your fingertips where your hand still rested on his jaw. his gaze dropped for a moment as his thumb traced a small circle against your hip, the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes. "'s different. y'know it is."
"'s not different," you breathed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "we're just researching. practicing... arenât we?"
michael's breath caught. he'd been the one to call it practice in the first place, but hearing the words in your voice made them sound a whole lot less convincing. it painfully obvious that neither of you believed it anymore, but it was just the excuse you'd both quietly agreed to hide behind.
you leaned down closer, the scent of him filling your senses as your eyelids fluttered shut. you pressed your lips to the soft corner of his mouth.
when you started to pull back, he chased your lips until he caught them again, locking his mouth over yours in a desperate kiss. a groan caught in his throat as his fingers tangled deep into the hair at the nape of your neck, his tongue slipping past your teeth.
but just as you tangled your fingers in his collar to pull him closer, he stopped.
he let out a shaky exhale against your skin before dropping his forehead into the crook of your neck. he stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving against yours. he still looked downright tormented as he dragged a trembling hand down his face.Â
"if i don't stop right now... 'm not gonna be able to," he whispered. he looked down at his hands, heat spreading across his cheeks. "the things i wanna do t'you... the way i want you... 's too much. i can't. i have t'be a gentleman with you.â
your throat tightened, your stomach flipping at his words.
"michael,â you murmured softly, squeezing his hand "you are good for me. i want you. 'm not asking you to be perfect⊠and you don't get to make this decision all by yourself â it's my choice too"
you leaned in, your thumb tracing the back of his hand. "i don't trust anyone the way i trust you... i want this."
he held your gaze for a long moment, searching your face as if he were making sure you meant every word.
his gaze dropped to your lips, then to where your hand still held his wrist. after a brief hesitation, he turned his hand over in your grip, lacing his fingers with yours and giving them a gentle squeeze.
his free hand returned to your waist, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt as his thumb traced the curve of your hip. he leaned down, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck before he spoke.
"i wanna make y'feel good," he murmured, his fingers drifting toward your shorts, his knuckles brushing the fabric where you needed him. "can i? can i do that for you?"
you nodded, your voice catching a little. "please."
michael let out a quiet breath, his gaze drifting around the cramped front cabin before a tiny, nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck.
"backseat?" he whispered.
you felt your face burn, a small smile breaking across your face as you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded.
you both scrambled over the console until you reached the wide bench seat in the back. you scooted back against the leather as michael climbed in after you, bracing himself above you with one hand planted beside your head and the other at your waistÂ
he carefully flipped your skirt up over your hips. he clumsily worked his hand along your legs while you both shifted awkwardly on the leather, trying to get comfortable. when his hand brushed your bare thigh, you shivered.
"doin' okay?" he asked, looking up at you.
"yeah," you whispered, your face feeling incredibly hot. "'m jusâ a little nervous."
"me too," he said softly. he moved his hand back up, his fingers tentatively tracing the inside of your thigh until his knuckles nudged the edge of your underwear. he stopped there, his eyes searching yours. "can i... touch you here?"
you nodded, your fingers tightening on his shoulder.
michael drew his hand back a few inches as his gaze drifted between your thighs. right in the center of your underwear, a cute little damp spot had bloomed through the cotton. the fabric clung to your skin, outlining the soft shape of your folds where it creased against your body.Â
michael's breath hitched. he stared, completely transfixed. his lower lip disappeared between his teeth before he reached out, his index finger tracing the damp patch of cotton where it hugged your skin.
"you're drippin'," he whispered, his voice turning raspy as he looked back up at your face.
heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away. a tiny smile tugged at his mouth when he saw how flustered you were. he reached up with his other hand to guide your face back toward him, wanting to look at you.
"makes me feel good to know i do that t'you," he confessed, his eyes locked onto yours.
his fingers hooked beneath the elastic, pulling it down your legs. when his fingertips finally touched your drooling pussy, a shaky groan slipped from his lips.
he stared for a long moment, hypnotized by how puffy and swollen you were, by the way you were already spilling over, and when he parted your folds, the wetness caught in the low light filtering in from the street.
"michael," you breathed, your voice cracking. you tried to press your legs together, your hands coming down to shield yourself from his gaze. "don't... 's embarrassing."
"no, don't hide," he whispered. he caught your wrists, easing your hands away. "you're so pretty... you're leakin' all over fâme."
a small, pleading noise slipped from your lips before you can stop it.
"m-mikey, please," you begged, your hips twitching under the weight of his stare.
he leaned closer, his nose brushing against your thigh as he took another look, his fascination bordering on obsession. he watched the way your pussy glistened, completely captivated.
he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out, sounding almost awestruck by the realization that he was the reason you were falling apart like this. then he reached out, tracing the very edge of your folds with one long finger, following the path where you were dripping.
he wasnât just touching.
he was exploring you, his curiosity getting the better of his shyness.
he slid his finger upward, an experimental stroke that dragged the wetness over your folds. your breath caught, and michael noted the tiny hitch in your chest, his thumb pausing right where it was. he was studying you, trying to get a gauge of your reactions to what you like.
he was being uncharacteristically shameless but so attentive.
and it turned you on more than you wanted to admit.
"y'like that?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
you gave a small nod, your hands reaching for his forearms.
michael swallowed hard. he repeated the same upward stroke, this time pressing just a little harder, his thumb lightly grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. a sharp gasp escaped you, and your hips twitched against his hand.
michael moaned in response, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. he studied you like you were something precious he didn't want to break, mapping out exactly what made you gasp and what made your body respond. then he tried a different angle, circling his thumb gently over your clit. when your eyes fluttered shut and a whimper slipped free, he let out a shaky breath against your skin.
the steady pressure of his thumb was already making your head spin. michael's breathing grew shallower, his chest rising and falling against yours as he looked down at his hand. his middle finger shifted slightly, the tip nudging against your opening before he stopped.
"michaelâ" you gasped, your hips twitching on his lap.
"still okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
"y-yeah," you whispered, your fingers curling into his shirt. "can you give me more?"
michael swallowed hard, his face flushed. "tell me if it's too much," he whispered.
he eased his finger inside. he moved carefully, trying to find the right angle while your walls gripped him. a low, quiet moan caught in his throat from how warm and tight you felt.
you were soaking, the mess of it making everything slippery as he pushed a little deeper. the wet noise of his finger sliding against your folds was loud in the quiet car, making your face burn, but you couldn't stop your body arching into him.
when his finger curled slightly and your whole body buckled, he let out a shaky groan into the crook of your neck.
âohâ mike, fuck,â you whimpered.
he looked back up at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth, looking overwhelmed by an idea he was clearly trying to work up the nerve to ask.
"can i..." he started. he cleared his throat, a deeper flush creeping up his neck. "will y'let me taste you? please?"
your heart skipped a beat, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. when you gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders melted away. carefully, he eased his finger out of you, the soft sound of the release making you both shiver.
"lay back f'me," he whispered.Â
you let your elbows slide out from under you, easing back onto the wide leather bench seat. the smooth leather felt cool against your skin.
he shifted his weight, moving down between your legs, angling himself on the lower edge of the seat.
he rested his hands on the insides of your thighs, his fingers tracing upward until he had a clear view of you. he stared for a beat before lowering his head.
looking down at him, your chest ached with how beautiful he was. his skin looked soft under the dim light, and those huge, deep brown eyes of his were wide and completely focused on you, framed by thick lashes. even with his curls a little messy and his face completely flushed with nerves, he looked so striking it almost made you forget to breathe.
you felt his breath first â hot and shallow, panting softly against your cunt â and you went still under him, your stomach tightening as his hair tickled your thighs.
he still hadn't moved and you were squirming just waiting for him to do something.
he lifted his eyes to yours, the contact hitting like lightning.
there was so much written across his face â hunger, reverence, something almost possessive â but it was the softness that broke you. the slight twitch of his eyebrows.
slowly, michael leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his breath ghosting over your skin. then another, a little higher this time, right at the crease where you leg met your hips.
and finally he lowered his head closer to your core, never once breaking eye contact, before he leaned in and licked you.
a slow lick from bottom to top, with the flat of his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp, your hands flying to grip the edges of the seat cushions as your hips jolted.
and he groaned, a sound so filthy that you felt it through your cunt, all the way to your spine.
he began using his tongue in slow upward strokes, mirroring the way he'd touched you with his fingers. he was so gentle, his tongue warm and wet as it dragged through your slickness, parting your folds to get closer. when he swept a little higher and lapped directly over your clit, a loud whimper broke from your lips.
michael let out a low groan against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through your inner thighs. he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging into your wetness as his strokes grew wider, hungrier, fumbling his way into a steady rhythm as he drank you in.
"yâtaste so good," he rushed out. "so sweet. god, you're so wet."
he was obsessed with every sound coming out of you and wanted to hear more. he slid his middle finger back inside your slick opening, drawing another broken sound from you as your hips jolted off the leather.
michael's nose nudged against your clit as he let out a shaky breath against your skin. he pushed his finger a little deeper, trying to find a rhythm between the lapping of his tongue and the slide of his hand. he experimented with different pressures until his fingertip nudged against a rougher, textured spot along your gummy walls. your entire body convulsed.
a cry tore from your throat, your fingers instantly tangling in his soft curls to pull him closer.Â
michael let out a muffled moan against your inner thigh. realizing what he'd just stumbled onto, he tentatively pressed his finger against that same spot again, curling it just a fraction while his tongue swirled over your clit.
"does that feel good?" he whispered against your skin. he didn't pull away, his mouth still hovering there.
"y-yes," you choked out, your hips twitching against the seat. "mikey, feels so good."
he buried his face back into you. he sucked on your clit while his finger gently hooked that spot again. the sensation was so overwhelming your eyes rolled back. you were dripping, the wet sounds of his finger working inside you blending with the sound of his breathing. he kept tracing that sweet spot, his finger prodding clumsily, completely losing himself in the way your body buckled and shuddered beneath his mouth.
but the closer he worked you toward the edge, the more his own desire built. his breathing grew louder as he kept his face buried against you.
"you're doinâ so good," he murmured.
he was so worked up, so overwhelmed by how wet you were â and god, those noises spilling from your lips.
without realizing it, he started grinding into the leather seat cushions, rubbing against them to find some relief while he worked you over.
michael was determined to make you cum, he needed to feel it.Â
he shifted his angle, his hands sliding beneath your thighs and lifting them, draping your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer.
you cried out, because he was even deeper. his face was pressed into you, tongue flattening out again and dragging hard over your entrance.
and then he pushed in, tongue-fucking you. he wasn't even coming up for air, like he didn't even want to.
you could hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his fingers fucking into you, the suction of his lips over your clit and his moans â god he moaned so much â but you weren't doing much better.
every attempt at a coherent thought dissolved into broken mewls and breathless squeaks. you were climbing so fast you could barely comprehend the pleasure rushing through you.
he lined two fingers this time, sliding into you in one smooth motion, palm facing up. his knuckles dragged across the slick heat of your entrance, easing past the resistance like you were made to take him.
he found that heavenly spot again, pressing into it until you were seeing stars.
your thighs began to tremble, your toes curling as the muscles around his fingers clamped down hard.
"fuck, michaelâ wait, 'm gonnaâ"
you couldn't even finish the sentence. your hips jerked off the seat, your body going rigid as the first wave of pleasure crashed through you. a loud cry tore from your throat as your fingers flew to his hair.
michael let out a muffled groan against you as your walls began to spasm around his fingers, squeezing them in pulsing waves. he stayed right there, working you through it as your sweet release slipped around his fingers, creating embarrassing squelching noises. he panted heavily against your inner thighs, trapped between your legs while you shook.
his fingers slowly slipped out of you as he exhaled, the motion drawing another twitch from you. he pushed himself back until he was sitting on his heels. he looked like a wreck â his face flushed, his lips wet all the way to his chin. he swallowed hard, glancing down at his hand before lifting his eyes to yours.
"you okay?" he whispered, his voice thick. "was that alright?"
a soft laugh escaped you. "yeah, it was perfect. you sure you havenât done this before?"
he let out a breathless laugh, equal parts relief and embarrassment. he looked out the window, rubbing the back of his neck with his clean hand as the dark skin flushed deeper. "never."
you reached out, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and gently pulling him toward you.
eagerly, he leaned into you until his chest pressed against yours. when your lips met, the kiss was soft at first, filled with quiet gratitude, before it slowly deepened. you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and it made your head spin.
he groaned softly into your mouth, his clean hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you again like he couldn't stop. when you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.
his gaze flicked to the analogue clock on the dashboard, and he let out a soft sigh.
ââs getting real late." he whispered as he reached down to find your panties, handing them over to you with a gentle look. "i should get y'home before your family starts worryinâ 'bout where you're at. i don't want 'em thinkin' bad of you... or me."Â
you laughed softly as you pulled your panties back on. "i know you're just worried about your own reputation, mr. gentleman."
michael laughed.
the ride back that night wasn't nearly as tense as you'd expected. when he dropped you off, you waved a quick goodbye before practically sprinting inside, your heart doing flips the whole way.
michael had gone home that night in a daze, staring up at his ceiling until the sun came up. he could still feel the dizzying taste of you still lingering on his tongue.
every time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed back to the way you ground down against him. he couldn't shake the memory of those little moans slipping from your lips whenever he'd rub against you just right. it had taken everything in him not to cum in his pants.
though, what happened after that was between him and the four walls of his bedroom.
on the other hand, every time you tried to do something productive, your mind wandered.
all you could think about was how his dick had twitched against your clit through your jeans â god, he'd felt so big. even through two layers of denim, he felt so thick, so hard beneath you. you could still feel the pressure of his fingers digging into your hips, dragging you down so he could grind up into you harder. your underwear had been soaking wet, rubbing against him.
and fuck, his mouth.
you couldnât stop your mind from going to the dirtiest places. if he was that needy without even being touched, what would he be if you actually did more? you couldnât help but picture him pinning you down on a bed, gripping your thighs to pull them wide open, and just rutting himself inside youâÂ
no. what were you thinking?
you shoved yourself up from the bed, practically marching into the bathroom before you could let your mind wander any further down that rabbit hole.
turning the tap all the way to the right, you waited until the water ran freezing cold before splashing a handful over your face. the icy shock hit your skin like a slap, stealing a gasp from your lungs as water dripped down your neck and into the collar of your shirt.
you grabbed a towel and dried your face before staring at yourself in the mirror.
get a grip. what is wrong with you?
you headed back to your bedroom, finally feeling a little more grounded. the second you sat down, the phone rang. it was michael, his voice soft and hesitant as he asked if you wanted to come over for a while.
before you could even talk yourself out of it, you were pulling into his driveway.
stepping into his house, the familiar warmth of the place did nothing to settle the nerves twisting in your gut.Â
michael greeted you with a small smile before gesturing toward the stairs.Â
you followed him upstairs, the familiar routine of making your way to his bedroom easing some of the tension in your chest. once inside, michael crossed the room to switch on his stereo, keeping the music low while you kicked off your shoes and settled onto the carpet with your back against the side of his mattress.
when he turned around and saw you'd already claimed the floor, he laughed softly before flopping face-down onto the bed. he slid down until his head hung over the edge.
"you're really gonna sit on the floor? there's a whole bed right here," he said, his voice all soft.
"yeah, well, the carpet is cooler. plus, you take up the whole mattress anyway," you said, resting your arms on your knees.
"i do not," he scoffed, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. he tucked his hands behind his head.
you fell back into your usual conversation.
you both were great at not addressing the elephant in the room.
a wave of relief washed over you as you listened to him ramble about some silly show he'd stayed up watching the night before. you'd spent the entire drive over with sweaty palms, convinced he was going to sit you down and talk about what happened in his car.
just listening to the sound of his voice, the knot in your chest finally began to loosen. your mind was still a little loud â it was impossible to completely forget the way he'd gripped your hips â but his easy, familiar energy grounded you. he wasn't pushing or making things awkward, and for the first time in days, it almost felt like nothing had changed.
"oh, wait, i almost forgot," michael said, popping up onto his elbows. he looked down at you, his eyes bright with that boyish excitement he always got whenever he had something new to show you. "i got something yesterday. hold on."
he scrambled off the bed and padded over to his closet. after rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a colourful cardboard box.
"twister?" you asked, reading the bold letters on the front as he walked back over.
"yeah!" he grinned, dropping to his knees on the carpet as he tore the plastic wrap off the box. "i saw it the other day and i had to get it."
you chuckled, shaking your head as you crawled over to help him clear a space on the bedroom floor.
"michael, you know you're way too flexible for this to be a fair fight."
"that's not true," he scoffed, shaking out the large white mat covered in bright red, blue, yellow, and green dots. "you have good balance. 's totally fair. here, you spin first."
he tossed the little cardboard spinner toward you, and for the first ten minutes, it was just stupid fun. you kept up your usual chatter, laughing and teasing each other every time the spinner landed on something inconvenient.
it felt normal.
but the game had no intention of letting it stay that way.
"left hand, green," michael muttered, reaching over his own arm to flick the spinner. he glanced down at where the arrow landed before looking back up at you with a grin. "right foot, red for you."
you groaned, eyeing the mat. to reach the only open red dot, you had to stretch directly over him. keeping both hands planted on their blue dots, you lifted your hips and stretched your leg across, hovering right above him.
michael was propped up on his left hand and right foot, waiting for you to make your move. but the second you shifted, his breath caught.
from where he was on the floor, he had an unobstructed, up-close view of your ass, the fabric of your shorts pulled taut as you stretched into the awkward position.
michael's brain blanked. the playful comment he was about to make died in his throat. he tried â he really did â to look away.
he blinked hard, forcing his gaze toward the closet door, then down to his hand on the green dot as his breathing picked up.
but it was like a magnet. his gaze snapped right back to you, tracing the curve of your hips as his mind flashed to the heat of his car a few nights ago â to the memory of exactly how it had felt to hold you right there.
heat flooded his veins, burning all the way up to the tips of his ears.Â
"okay," you said, letting out a breath as your foot settled on the red dot. "your turn. spin it."
the mat had become so crowded that michael had to awkwardly lean over his own arm to reach the spinner again, letting out a strained laugh as he stretched across the mat. as he shifted, you adjusted to give him room.
"don't move," you panted, your arms beginning to shake. "if you move, i'm gonna fall."
"i'm trying, i swearâ" michael started, a breathless laugh escaping him as he glanced up at you. but his foot slipped on the smooth plastic.
you let out a yelp before collapsing straight onto him. the two of you tumbled into a tangled heap, laughing as you landed sprawled across his chest, your hips settling over his lap.
for a second, you were both recovering from the fall, your laughter echoing in the bedroom. but as your giggles faded and you leaned up on your elbows to look down at him, the amusement vanished.
michael went still beneath you. his hands hovered uncertainly by your waist, trembling as though he didn't know where to put them. he stared straight up at you, his chest rising and falling beneath yours, his lips slightly parted as his breath caught. up this close, his eyes were wide, his pupils so blown they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises.
it felt like the universe was doing everything it could to push you together. you were seriously starting to think you'd jinxed yourself. every time you convinced yourself things were finally back to normal, the universe found a way to prove you wrong within minutes.
because beneath the fabric of your shorts, you felt the unmistakable hardness growing against your thigh.
michaelâs gaze darted to where your hips were pressed against his. he looked mortified, caught red-handed in a way he couldn't hide.
his hands came to rest at your waist. with the gentlest touch, he tried to ease you back and off him.
"'m sorry," he whispered, his voice real soft as he gave you a small, embarrassed smile. "it'll go away if y'just... give me a minute."
the way you were looking at him had him bringing up both his hands up, burying his face in his palms to hide the crimson flushing his cheeks.
he looked so sweet and so overwhelmed. it made you lean down closer towards him.
"I swear I didn't invite yâover for this," his muffled voice came from behind his hands. He slowly lowered his palms, his dark skin flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears as he looked up at you. "I jusâ wanted to hang out with you⊠like before."
you bit the inside of your cheeks. "i know, mikey," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "âs been weird not seeing you as much the last few days.â
âyeah?â
"yeah," you murmured, looking down at him. now that you were this close, keeping up the casual front was getting harder. "but if i'm being honest... i haven't really been able to stop thinking about it. ever since the couch... and the car."
michael's eyes searched yours, his features softening as the tension melted from his shoulders. he let out a long, slow exhale, his head settling back against the carpet.
when he looked at you again, his gaze wandered over your face, lingering like he was trying to memorize every detail.
"i missed you these last few days... and i miss y'now, even when you're sittin' right here." he swallowed. "i jus'..." he whispered, searching your face. "i jus' wanna be close t'you."
his fingertips tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "i wanna hold you." his voice faltered. "i don't wanna keep pretendin' this doesn't mean somethin'."
he let out a slow breath, his forehead nearly brushing yours. "...i think i need you more than i know what t'do with."
for a moment, you couldn't find a single thing to say. a surge of giddiness hit you so hard you had to fight to keep your face from splitting into a grin. you desperately swallowed down the high-pitched squeal threatening to bubble up your throat, forcing yourself to keep it together so you wouldn't give away just how badly he'd short-circuited your brain.Â
so you did the only thing you could think of.
you leaned down and kissed him, your hands framing his face, your fingers curling against his jaw as you pulled him up to you.Â
the kiss spoke for itself, pouring every ounce of the frustration and longing you couldn't put into words straight into his mouth.
you parted your lips, sliding your tongue against his with an urgency that drew a muffled gasp from him.Â
the sound only made you press closer, your chest flattening against his as you drank him in.Â
there was a profound ache to the kiss. almost like the release of all the secret longing he'd been hiding away for days. it felt like he was pouring his whole soul into your mouth, every stroke of his tongue tracing a quiet plea against yours. he kissed you like a man who had been starving in the dark, his lips sealing over yours with a reverent hunger that made your chest ache.Â
he dragged his mouth away from yours, his breath coming in shallow puffs as he kissed a trail down your cheek, his lips hot against your skin. he pressed a string of kisses along your chin and jaw before his mouth found your neck.Â
a quiet moan slipped from your lips as he found the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. his lips parted as he sucked gently at the soft skin, the drag of his mouth making your hips twitch against his lap.Â
you slid your hand down his chest, past his belt, until your palm rested over the hard ridge beneath the fabric, giving it a gentle squeeze.
michael choked on his breath, his hand flying to still your wrist.
"i wanna make you feel good too, mikey.â
"y'don't have to... 's not good for you," he whispered, his fingers trembling around your wrist.Â
"not good for me?" you murmured, tilting your head. "but it was fine for you to do it to me?"
he bit his lip, looking away. "'s different f'you. you're... you're a lady. i don't want you messin' with somethin'... like that."Â
you bit back a smile. "like what?"
"somethin'... dirty," he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.
âmichael, you tongue-fucked me in the backseat of your car, but this is where you draw the line?â
your blunt words made him look like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. he immediately buried his face behind both hands, heat rushing into his cheeks.Â
"d-don't say it like that," he mumbled from behind his hands.Â
you laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before gently pulling his hands away.Â
leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, dragging your lips to the sensitive skin just underneath his ear. âplease let me, mikey. i want to. donât you wanna feel good?â
his fingers reached up to gently tangle in your hair, holding you close.
"i do..." he whispered. he swallowed hard, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "i want to so bad... it's jus' scary. y'make me... so nervous." he let out a quiet laugh before biting his lower lip.
"me? make you nervous?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.
instead of answering, michael slid his hand from your hair, trailing down your arm until his palm found yours. he wrapped his fingers around your hand and guided it to his chest, pressing your palm firmly over his heart, letting you feel how rapidly it was beating.Â
"see?" he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.Â
you let out a quiet breath before taking his other hand and guiding it to the center of your chest, your heart hammering just as hard beneath his palm.
a soft exhale escaped him before his fingers slid from your chest to cup your jaw. he caught your lips in a kiss, sealing his mouth over yours.Â
slowly, you broke the kiss and shifted off him, moving until you were kneeling between his legs at the edge of the twister mat. michael's breath caught, his arms falling back against the carpet, his fingers gripping the edge of the plastic mat as he watched you. the room felt impossibly quiet now, the low music from his stereo nothing more than a distant hum beneath the sound of his shallow breathing.
looking down at the waistband of his trousers, a fresh wave of nerves washed over you. you couldn't believe you were seeing michael â of all people â like this.
your fingers trembled as you reached out, your knuckles brushing the fabric. you worked the button of his trousers loose, the click of the metal loud in the quiet room. carefully, you pulled his zipper down.Â
michael's stomach rolled as he drew in a heavy breath, his abdomen tightening while you parted the denim and gently eased his underwear down just enough.Â
when he finally sprang free, your breath caught. he was thick, long, already glistening at the tip, the length of him pulsing faintly in the light.
tentatively, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, giving him a soft, experimental squeeze.Â
michael let out a sharp hiss through his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his back stiffened against the side of the bed.
"o-ohâ myâ" he gasped, his knuckles paling where around the carpet under his hands.Â
"am i hurting you?" you asked, your hand halting.
"no, no," he rushed out between heavy breaths. he glanced down at your hand around him before lifting his eyes back to yours, his voice dropping into a shaky murmur. "jus'... 's real sensitive. your hands are cold."Â
you let out a breathy laugh. ââm sorry.â
wanting to tease him a little, you extended your index finger. carefully, you traced the pad of your finger along the prominent vein running beneath his length.Â
michael let out a strained groan, his hips squirming weakly against the floor. you kept your eyes on his face, watching his eyelids flutter and his throat bob with every stroke.Â
when your hand reached the very top, you lightened your touch until it was barely there. using just the tip of your finger, you slowly circled the crown, swirling through the clear bead of pre-cum gathering there.Â
a loud whimper slipped from his lips, his hips jerking upward. he bit down hard on his lower lip, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he didn't think he'd ever been more turned on in his life.Â
"please," he breathed, his voice cracking as his eyes grew glassy. "please don't tease me."
"but you like it, don't you?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.
michael let out a strained sound, his head falling back as he stared helplessly at the ceiling.Â
"don't you, mikey?" you coaxed.
"don't... don't make me say it," he whispered, an embarrassed laugh slipping free as his shoulders shook.Â
you smiled but didn't press him any further. instead, you shifted closer, leaning down between his thighs as your hand stroked him with more purpose, your thumb smoothing over the ridge.Â
when you finally parted your lips and took the warm, wet tip of him into your mouth, michael let out a broken moan, gasping as you swirled your tongue around the crown. his eyebrows pinched together as he looked down at you.
your long lashes cast soft shadows against your flushed cheeks as your eyes lifted to meet his. his chest tightened. he couldn't stop staring at the way your lips moved around him, at the shine of your mouth every time you pulled back before taking him in again. you looked so pretty.
too pretty to be doing this to him.
every filthy thought he'd been too embarrassed to let himself have came rushing forward all at once, and for the first time, he didn't have it in him to push them away.
all he wanted was more. deeper. slower. again. he didn't know where one thought ended and the next began anymore. his hands flew straight up to cover his mouth, trying to muffle helpless whimpers spilling out.
and you took that as a challenge to see just how loud you could get him.
you wrapped your fingers firmly around his base, your hand acting as an anchor. you focused entirely on the very top. you parted your lips just enough to take the sensitive crown back into your mouth, using the flat of your tongue to apply a heavy pressure, dragging it flat across the ridge in long strokes.
above you, michael's entire body stiffened. a gasp caught behind his palms.
you didn't give him a second to recover. keeping your tongue flat against the underside of the tip, you swirled it in tight circles right over the slit, matching the pace with a pulsing squeeze of your hand at the base.
a high, broken whine tore from his throat, his hands flying to your head as his lower body gave a helpless twitch, his hips lifting off the carpet. he tried to ground himself, his long legs tensing, but god, you were killing him.
the slick sound of your mouth sucking him so greedily was so filthy.
michael's hips jerked upward again, pushing him deeper into your mouth.Â
just as he was about to apologize, you swallowed past the tightness in your throat and hummed against him. the vibration drew a pathetic little squeak from him.
you wrapped your free hand around the very base of him, twisting your palm as you slid it up to meet your lips, catching the trailing wetness before spreading it back down his length. your mouth settled into a slow, sloppy rhythm.Â
you pushed forward, taking his dick deeper down your throat than before. the heavy stretch forced a gag from your chest, tears welling up in your eyes and spilling over your lashes from the intrusion.
he was practically trying to run from you, backing up until his shoulders bumped against the edge of the bed, trapped between the frame and the pull of your mouth.Â
you kept your eyes on his, taking in every flicker of pleasure across his face, every flutter of his lashes, every pinch of his brows. you wanted to remember him exactly like this, committing every twitch of his jaw and every dark flush to memory.Â
watching him lose himself underneath you made your own core throb. you subtly pressed your thighs together, hoping the pressure would dull the ache. it didn't.Â
"w-wait, wait, 'm gonnaâ ahâ"Â
his voice broke completely, a high, panicked whimper tearing through the room as his abdomen knotted.
michael panicked, realizing you weren't getting off. his hand frantically shot down to grip your shoulder, trying to pull you up and off him, desperate to keep you from getting a mouthful of something he was convinced would gross you out.Â
but you weren't a quitter.
you gently brushed his hands away, tightening your grip on his base without pulling away.Â
he came with a loud, broken groan, his hips giving three jolts forward. your name slipped from his lips in a breathless whine that you knew would replay in your mind for days. you held him tight through the tremors, swallowing down the hot bursts of his cum, continuing to suck softly even as his body shivered and went lax against the edge of the bed.
when the final twitch subsided, you slowly slid your mouth off him, the wet sound of the release echoing in the quiet of the bedroom. you swallowed the last of him, cleaning up the stray wetness along his length with a slow swipe of your tongue before sitting back on your heels.
michael was a puddle against the side of his bed. his chest was heaving in deep drafts, one arm flung over his eyes while the other lay limp across the carpet, his fingers still twitching every now and then. the deep crimson in his cheeks had spread all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.Â
michael let out a weak little groan from beneath his arm as you tucked him back into his pants. slowly, he peeked out from under his elbow, his large, glassy eyes lifting to you as you climbed back over him.Â
he reached out, his fingers finding yours before gently pulling your hand toward him. he lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss into the center of your palm, his lips warm against your skin.Â
bringing his face close to yours, he leaned in, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pressed a tender kiss to your left cheek, then your right, his curls brushing against your face. when he finally found your lips, the kiss was slow and so, so sweet.
you pulled back just an inch, your fingers resting on his shoulders as you looked down at his flushed face. a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.Â
âi won, by the way.â
michael let out a quiet huff of a laugh, his shoulders shaking beneath you.
"you did not," he protested "the mat was slippery, 's all. it don't count."
"it does count," you laughed, finally climbing off him to sit cross-legged on the carpet.
"absolutely not. you fell right on top of me!"
"yeah, because you moved and made me fall!" you shot back, gesturing at the crumpled plastic. "you lost your footing, michael. just admit it."
âi didnât lose because the game was rigged," he insisted.
"keep telling yourself that."
"yâknow what, i will," he murmured, a soft grin breaking across his face.
you rolled your eyes, reaching over to help him gather up the ruined twister mat that was probably headed straight for the trash.
you were glad the awkwardness of the last few days had finally melted away. you and michael were still the same two idiots arguing over who won a game of twister.
the only thing that had changed was everything in between.
êš SYNOPSIS: after the last time you and michael tried to be intimate it didnât go quite well. now, youâre restless and want nothing more than to feel him inside of you.
sequel to ⏠ââeverything real bigâ âŹ
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI â unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), michael is a certified eater btw, mating press, handjob, belly bulge, switch!michael if you squint really hard, reader is so loud that his brothers ended up overhearing oops
አWORD COUNT: 1.7k
አNOTES: yesssss guys part 2 is here!!! i actually never even planned to do another part but since its highly requested, i canât leave my fellow moonwalkers high and dry ahaha
michael jackson masterlist àŒ» navi
itâs late, already past midnight and youâve been awake for hours. itâs been a couple days since you and michael attempted to have sexual intercourse and you havenât been able to get it out of your head.
you canât help but feel embarrassed.
michael doesnât seem to care. heâs already shrugged it off and carried on like normal. giving you kisses every chance he gets, touching every single part of your body that he can reach but you canât help the nagging feeling at the back of your mind.
you are so adamant about taking all of him and you want to⊠no you need to.
itâs a crave that wonât leave. even though you embarrassed yourself that other day, you donât believe that itâs impossible. michaelâs fingers are long and slightly thick and heâs been able to get at least three inside of you once so his length should fit inside of you.
maybe you just werenât prepped properly.
to be honest you just happened to think you were wet enough to take his girth but maybe just maybe you just werenât worked open enough for him to fit.
you bite your lip, squeezing your thighs together in desperation.
you want him so damn bad. you need to feel the unbelievable pleasure of him inside of you.
you need it. you need it. you need it.
you canât stop squirming in anticipation, not realising that every time you clench your thighs together, you accidentally push your ass back against michaelâs groin.
michael stirs slightly, tightening his hold on your waist. âhm, stop moving.â he mumbles out, still half asleep.
âi canât.â you whine, still fidgeting. you can already feel your cotton pyjama shorts start to get a bit uncomfortable, rubbing against your aching clit.
âbaby.â itâs an almost growl, his wide palm moving from your waist to your hips, attempting to hold you still.
âmhmm i need you.â you whine. you want his dick inside you so bad that tears start to swell.
âitâs late, baby go to sleep.â michael grunts, settling his head in the dip of your shoulder.
âplease.â you beg, turning your head and kissing the side of his mouth. you were hoping to latch onto his lips but because itâs so dark in the bedroom, you canât see a single thing. âi wonât be able to sleep otherwise, i can take you this time⊠i promise.â
a deep rumble crawls out of michaelâs throat at your filthy words. âmama⊠you gotta stop speakinâ like that.â
âi can take it.â you whisper. âi will take it, all of it.â you move your hand behind your back, slithering your hand down between your squished bodies and finding the waistband of michaelâs shorts.
âbaby holdâ nghhhâ his words trail off into a guttural groan when you slip your hand into his shorts and wrap your fingers around the base of his thick member.
you bite your lip giving it a small squeeze. michael digs his head in the crook of your neck, letting out tiny whimpers when you tighten your grip around him and move your hand down until your thumb reaches the tip.
âwhatâ fuck⊠what if it still doesnât fit.â michael babbles in your ear, as you continue to pump his length.
you giggle, knowing that youâve already cracked his shy act. âthen we just gotta make sure that you stretch me out good with those thick and long fingers of yours.â
and thatâs how you ended up on your back with michaelâs head between your thighs.
the only thing you can hear in the dark room is the loud slurps of michael eating you out like a man starved and your attempt at trying to muffle your moans.
your eyes roll to the back of your head, as another orgasm slams into you making you let out a drawled out moan. michael raises his head, his mouth slick with your juices.
âyou always taste so good mama.â he coos, crawling up your body and locking his lips with yours in a messy kiss.
you hum into the kiss, licking and sucking on his plump lips. you continue kissing him until you feel his hand trail down until his thumb starts drawing short, quick circles on your swollen nub.
âahhââ you gasp at the sudden sensation. your pussy is so sensitive after having orgasm after orgasm on just michaelâs mouth.
âshhâŠâ michael whispers, his pointer finger trailing down to your soaked hole. you clutch his shoulder when you feel the fullness of his finger sinking into you.
âyouâre so goddamn tight.â michael hisses, pushing a second finger inside of you. âyou wanna be so greedy and try and take my dick but you canât even take my fingers.â he tuts.
âi can take it.â you whine, your mouth falling open in a silent moan when he starts scissoring his fingers inside of you. his fingers are so long and slightly thick that it makes you feel unbelievably full. the utter pleasure is so blissful that you canât wait to take his whole length inside of you, because you will!
michael starts to pump his fingers faster, the wet squelch of your greedy cunt trying to suck his fingers back in with every move.
âis my baby able to take a third?â michael asks, not waiting for your answer and pushing a third finger inside of you.
âoh fuck!â you shout out, when he lowers his body so his mouth is face to face with your pussy. he continues the fast pace of his fingers plunging inside of you, but now he has his mouth closed around your clit. licking and swirling his tongue around your nub.
you grab his curls on top of his head, grinding your pelvis against his tongue. âi need it now. please iâm ready!â you plead, feeling the knot start to tighten deep in your stomach. you can feel another orgasm approaching.
michael growls, his dick so hard that itâs borderline painful.
michael sits up, taking off his shorts and boxers with quickness. you salivate at the sight of his large member, the tip glistening with pre cum. âplease, please fuck me. fuck me, fuck me,â you whine, when he grabs onto your ankles and pushes them down so your knees are touching your breasts.
you let out an accidental squeal at the sudden movement. youâre even shocked at yourself at the awkward flexibility. you never even knew your legs could go that far up.
michael uses one hand to hold your ankles together and the other hand to use the tip of his dick to rub up against your cunt and gather some of your juices.
you feel his thick, mauve tip nudge at your hole, your cunt clenching around nothing. his hips push against yours, ever so softly like heâs afraid to hurt you.
âput it in!â you whine, tears of frustration starting to fall down your cheeks. you want him inside you so damn bad.
his eyes snap up to yours, narrowing. âyou want it?â
you nod desperately.
âyou gonâ take it?â
you huff, feeling the pressure of his wide, mushroom head tip just there. so close to breaching you walls and here he is asking you silly questions.
âyes, oh my fucking god justâ nghhh fuckkkk!â you scream, when michael snaps his hips against yours, plunging his whole length inside of you with just one singular thrust.
the stretch is overwhelming. itâs something that youâve never felt before. not when he has fucked you with his fingers, not when you were able to take just the tip a couple nights ago, no this is something different.
it feels⊠it feels like heâs in your throat.
âoh jesus.â michael groans, nearly crushing you with his body weight at just the feeling of your warm, gummy walls suffocating his length.
he swore that heâs never felt something so good in his life.
you only get a few seconds to breathe until michael starts moving. youâre helpless, your voice hoarse from your moans. feeling the thick ridge of his length plunging into you and stealing your breath with every single thrust.
youâre a babbling mess, drool dripping down your chin, at the quickness of michaelâs movements. his pace is so fast that you have no chance to catch your breath until heâs plunging back inside you again.
michael is fucking you, the way you need to be fucked.
youâve been begging for this, and heâs giving it to you.
another orgasm slams into you without warning, making you clench even harder around him.
âoh shitâfuck⊠iâm gonna⊠i canâtââ michael slams into you one final time, sheathing his length so far into you that when you look down, you can see the faint bulge of his length deep in your stomach. michael lets out a guttural groan, spilling his seed so far that you wonât be surprised if it meets your cervix.
he stays inside of you, letting go of your aching legs. your legs fall down limply, you arms coming around his neck so you can hold him close to you. âthank you,â you pant. thankful that after all the begging and whining heâs finally given in and gave you exactly what you wanted.
a loud knock sounds on his door, followed by a shout. âmichael jackson, are you doing what i think youâre doing?â jackie yells through the door.
âhe definitely is!â marlon laughs.
âi didnât know you had that in you mike, youâre so lucky mother ainât home tonight.â jermaine yells.
michael groans, burying his face in your neck. heâs going shy after fucking the literal life out of you.
âgo away!â michael shouts, his voice muffled by your neck but somehow his brothers still heard him.
âthen donât wake us up in the night with your shenanigans then!â jackie yells, you both hear the retreating footsteps of his brothers going back to their rooms.
you giggle, cupping his cheeks and giving him a kiss on his lips. âyouâre so adorable.â
âi canât believe you woke me up to do that.â michael looks at you wide eyed, even though you can feel his length still hard inside of you.
you wrap your legs around his waist, clenching your cunt around him and making him groan.
âoh shush.â you kiss him again, this time more forcefully. âwhy donât we be more quiet this time hm?â
tgs â erotic fantasies sexual themes p in v riding overstimulation michael being very needy and submissive slight breeding kink â± michael daydreaming about his beloved co-star using him.
michael honestly, truthfully couldnât help himself.
he knew it was wrong, that it bordered on something far too desperate, far too salacious, but the magnetic pull toward you was something he couldn't fight anymore. you radiated confidence the exact second you stepped into any room. you were just so gentle, speaking in a soft, melodic tone that consistently left his mind spinning in a total daze. and you looked the part just as damn good. his eyes always tracked the way your hair was styled in those beautiful, juicy tight curls that bounced every time you laughed. then there was that signature lipgloss you always wore, leaving a perfect, shimmering sheen that made michael wish he had the courage to just lean in and kiss it right off you. you moved with such effortless grace, fitting flawlessly into everything you wore. whether it was structured blouses, tight pants that held your shape, or god forbid, a shirt where your cleavage peaked out just enough to make him completely forget his train of thought.
you were a dream to him, downright ethereal. you were easily one of the most breathtaking women to ever cross his path. ever since quincy first introduced the two of you, michael found himself entirely ensnared. it felt like you were a siren singing out from the deep ocean water, he knew the danger, yet he couldn't help but plunge right into the depths, falling into your trap every single time. it certainly didn't help that your actual singing voice was just as intoxicating. you were already legendary for your record-breaking albums consistently dominating the global charts, possessing a tone that was instantly recognizable all over the world. so naturally, when quincy brought up the genius idea of featuring you on a track for the off the wall album, michael didn't even hesitate to say yes.
that decision birthed endless, exhausting late nights spent inside the dim warmth of the studio. the two of you would huddle close, helping each other smooth out difficult lines, refusing to let your vocal cords rest until every single note hit the absolute perfect pitch. you would lean against the mixing console, laughing until your sides hurt while rewinding your mistakes over and over again. when you finally sang together, your voices blended with a seamless, supernatural ease, acting like a vocal yin and yang. the final two missing pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. quincy and the songwriters would stand outside the glass of the recording booth, watching in awe. you two created what was a flawless melody, a divine sound that quincy could only describe as something sent straight down from the heavens above.
michael deeply admired you, but above all else, he respected you. he loved your work, your voice, and that fierce, consuming passion you had for music that mirrored his very own. but michael knew he wasnât the only one who saw how brilliant you were. reading the ridiculous tabloid dating rumors and seeing your past public relationships play out in the media only crushed his spirits, convincing him that he would never truly stand a chance. he forced himself to believe he was just a temporary collaborator, that your bond was strictly professional, and that a sterile work relationship was all it was ever meant to be.
but the more michael tried to suppress his heavy feelings, the stronger and more violent they grew.
the days started to bleed into one long, quiet daydream, and it always found its way back to you. you could be sitting right across from him, right in front of his face, having the most normal, mundane conversation about nothing at all, but he wasnât really there. his gaze would inevitably lose its focus, drifting slow and heavy down to your lips. in his head, the noise of the room faded out, replaced by the vivid, quiet warmth of imagining those lips locked tightly against his own. he could see it so clearly, the way they would turn flushed and bruised from the pressure, soft and slick, parted with sticky strings of saliva.
it was a beautiful, dizzying sort of ache that pulled at his chest every single time it happened. then his eyes would wander up to yours. those beautiful, big eyes that usually held so much bright joy and effortless light. that light would shift into something much deeper, something thick and intoxicating. he imagined those wide eyes looking down at him, heavy with a potent mixture of love and raw lust, your pupils completely blown out and dark. you would just look at him like that, completely unbended, letting him sink deeper and deeper into you.
âi just wanna take care of you, michael,â you would whisper against his lips, handling him with such a fragile, desperate kind of love, your fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jawline. he could feel the ghost of your touch caressing his face, your mouth peppering slow, deliberate kisses starting from the very corner of his lips, moving out to his cheek, dragging down his jaw, and pressing deep into the sensitive of his throat. a shiver would wreck him before you came back up, placing one final, lingering promise against his mouth. âi love you.â
he imagined guiding the slow, heavy tilt of your waist as you rolled your hips on top of him. there was no space left between you, just the intense, unfiltered heat of bare skin against skin. michael could see it, feel it in real time. the frantic, welcoming pull of your velvety walls stretching around him so deliciously inside. he anchor-mapped your movements, entirely trapped beneath the hypnotic rhythm of your weight shifting over him, where every single friction and small adjustment drew a sharp, helpless groan from his chest.
michaelâs hands trembled where they rested against your ribs, his fingers gripping tight into your skin as his eyes grew completely glossed over and hazy, blind to the rest of the bedroom. his entire body thrummed with a sharp, overstimulated ache that reached all the way to his bones. the muscles of his thighs locked tight while his stomach clenched hot and heavy, his mind fracturing as his body became completely undone by the overwhelming, cascading wave of his third release.
michael knew with absolute certainty that if he ever got the chance, if the dream ever broke through into reality and he found himself in your bed, he would surrender every single bit of control to you, just like this. he didnât want to lead, he wanted to be used for your pleasure, to let you ride him until you were completely exhausted and satisfied. he wanted to be a resource for you, an object of your desire, entirely yours to take and shape however you pleased.
âitâs all yours,â michael spoke aloud into the quiet room, the declaration tearing out of him. his voice was shaky and ruined, breaking apart into nothing as guttural whines scraped past his throat, his chest heaving for air. ââm all yours.â
you nodded, biting down hard on your lip as a hot flush crept up your neck, the raw sound of his broken whimpers sending a sudden, electric ache straight to your core. you paused the steady up-and-down rhythm to roll your hips in tight, agonizingly deep circles that made him twitch beneath you. you let out a low, shuddering groan, sinking all the way down onto him as michaelâs length inched even deeper into your heat, pressing sweet and heavy against your cervix.
âyâfeel so good. i canâtââ michael gasped, the words catching painfully in his throat as his breath hitched.
you leaned down, your hand coming up to gently squeeze michaelâs cheeks between your thumb and index finger, cradling his face. your lips ghosted over his own, teasingly close, as you stared down into his blown, brown eyes. he looked up at you with a gaze so full of raw devotion it felt as if you had just hung the stars in his sky.
âyou can,â you spoke, your voice slipping out sultry and low against his mouth. âi know you can, mikey. for me.â
and god, michael could have cummed right then and there from the sheer warmth of his nickname on your lips. having you completely dominant on top of him, completely unafraid to take exactly what you wanted and use him until he was nothing but a blabbering, shaky, fucked-out mess, drove him entirely past his absolute limit.
his chest rose and fell in quick, ragged puffs, his ribs straining against your fingers. a dark heat flushed his cheeks as his eyebrows knitted together in sweet agony, his teeth catching his bottom lip right where the faint, sweet shine of your lipgloss still stained his skin.
ââm gonna have your babies,â you moaned out as michaelâs ridges slid deep against your walls, effortlessly finding and rubbing against every perfect, aching spot inside you.
michael nodded helplessly, his mind far too clouded by pleasure to form a single coherent thought. his focus narrowed down to a fine point until he could only register the staggering heat of your bare body pinned against his, your walls coiling so desperately tight around his cock that it made his legs tremble beneath you.
you continued the relentless rhythm without an ounce of hesitation, your hips lifting high before driving back down hard against his own. the sound of skin against skin filling the suffocating, hot air around your tangled bodies. the exact moment the you shifted, michael twitched beneath you, a look of pure, lovesick devotion instantly taking over his blown-out gaze. his hands tightened desperately against the meat of your hips, his fingers bruising your skin as he used every single ounce of strength he had left in his body to arch his waist up and meet you.
âugh,â you breathed, your breath warm against the curve of his jaw. âyou feel amazing, michael.â
you sank lower against him, tracing the heated line of his collarbone with your tongue before sinking your teeth into the soft, bruised dip above his shoulder. michael let out a low, ragged moan, his head tilting back into the mattress to lay his throat bare for you. âoh god. jesus help me,â he pleaded, the words fracturing into a breathless whisper.
you swiped your tongue over the sharp sting of the fresh mark, a soothing balm against his skin. anchoring your palms flat against the rigid muscle of his thighs, you adjusted your weight, widening your stance to press even harder against him as your pace quickened. damp curls clung to your forehead, but your focus never wavered from the dark, mapping bruises of devotion you had claimed him with. the visual evidence of how completely he belonged to you sent a tight shudder up your spine. your limbs grew heavy with exhaustion and heat, the boundary between your own skin and his blurring until you were just blindly following the rhythm of him.
âmichael, love,â you whimpered, the vulnerability slipping out before you could stop it. his heavy lids fluttered open, his dazed eyes locking onto yours for a split second before dropping down, entirely transfixed by the relentless movement of you taking his cock so fully and desperately. watching his cum form a frothy white ring around his base, another helpless, broken sound tore from his throat. his gaze completely glassed over with pure, unyielding adoration.
ââm almost there,â you groaned, your eyebrows knitting together. âtouch me, baby. please,â you begged, the words breaking apart on your tongue.
michaelâs hand left the curve of your hip, sliding over your skin until his palm pressed right up against you. his long, slender fingers anchored heavy on your inner thigh for balance while he pressed the pad of his thumb against your center, dragging slow, deep, and agonizingly tight circles around the sensitive bud. âlike this?â he breathed, his chest heaving as his dark, blown-out eyes looked straight up into yours, desperately seeking your approval.
the moment his thumb moved, your body tensed as if an electric wire had snapped right beneath your skin. your body coiled fiercely around his, constricting so deeply that a sudden, sharp shock of heat shot straight up his spine. his lips parted instantly, a broken, choking gasp escaping his throat as he watched your expression completely fracture into pure, undeniable bliss. âoh. oh myâjesus.â he panted against the air.
you arched your spine off the bed, throwing away any sense of control as you drove your hips into a faster, frantic pace, your toes curling tight into the fabric of the duvet. michael let out a low, guttural groan so loud it echoed in the quiet room, though he didnât even register the sound, nor did he care. being far too swept up and blissed out to even remember his own damn name.
the pressure built heavily in his lower belly, his stomach pooling with a thick, familiar heat as his eyes fluttered. his vision began to swim, his eyelids growing too heavy to keep open as he fought the instinct to let them roll back. his jaw went completely slack, his breath catching in his lungs. through the haze, he saw the beautiful way your face twisted in the shadows, feeling the sweet pulsing of you around him while your knees grew wobbly and weak. he felt the rhythm break, knowing down to his bones that you were falling over the edge right along with him.
ââm close, so close,â he whimpered, the words caught in his throat as his thumb kept up its relentless, desperate circles against your throbbing, puffy clit. you smiled down at him with nothing but pure love, nodding as you leaned lower, pressing your forehead against his own until your breath mingled in the space between you.
âyes, with me, michael,â you whispered, your eyes glossing over with a thick sheet of tears. the pads of your thumbs traced his flushed cheeks, grounding him, before your lips pressed firmly against his own. your tongues parted and met in a soft, deep, and completely consuming kiss. michael melted entirely against you, his eyes fluttering closed as his large, heavy hands came up to anchor flat against your upper back, pulling you down until there was no space left between you.
michael could feel your bodies starting to blur at the edges, merging until you were completely one. your heartbeats pounded so loudly he could hear the thudding echo from your chest, synchronizing perfectly into a single, melodic rhythm. with his damp curls stuck messy against the side of his flushed face, he firmly believed it in his soul, that god had carved you out as an angel to live among humans, that you were some kind of alluring, beautiful deity meant just for him to worship.
he wanted to get lost in this feeling forever, completely paralyzed by how real it felt as the entire map of your lives flashed before his eyes in vivid colors. he saw the two of you performing on stage together, sharing the spotlight before coming back home to the quiet, exhausted safety of each other's arms. he pictured the rush of getting ready backstage, of you standing proud in the very front row at his shows, and him watching from the front row at yours, entirely lovesick. he saw a life built on goodness, donating to charities together, traveling to help kids all around the world, and uniting broken people through the shared language of your music. and then, in the quietest, most precious part of his mind, he saw the two of you growing old and grey together. he imagined making so, so many babies with you, his hands resting on the soft curve of your swelling belly, feeling the steady, miraculous heartbeat that the two of you had created all on your own.
âmichael.â
michael blinked. once, twice, the hazy edges of his fantasy fracturing as his focus snapped back to reality. the sharp acoustic padding of the recording booth rushed back into view, replacing the phantom heat of your skin. his eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, his eyes darting from the blank studio walls to the gray carpet beneath his feet, trying to ground himself.
âmichael,â you repeated, your own brows twisting with fond concern. the heavy studio headphones hung loosely around your neck, and you dipped your head forward to catch his downcast gaze. when those wide, brown bambi eyes finally locked onto yours, you let out a soft laugh. a sound that instantly sent a wave of liquid warmth straight to his chest.
âare you okay? quincyâs been calling your name for the past five minutes. you already missed your cue.â
michael let out a low sigh, the corners of his lips tugging upward as he stared at you, completely entranced. âhave i?â he murmured.
âmhm,â you hummed, stepping closer. you tilted up on your toes, your small hand coming up to cup his jaw as you pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his cheek.
michael closed his eyes, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat as he anchored himself to the sensation of your slick, glossy lips parting against his skin. when his eyes fluttered open again, his gaze was completely uncovered, raw adoration shining through. you just giggled shyly at his expression, letting your hand drop to rest against his shoulder. âyou did good today,â you spoke, âIâm proud of you.â
at your praise, michael could feel his heart skip a full beat.
âyou mustâve been daydreaming again,â you teased, unhooking your headphones to drape them over the microphone stand. you turned on your heel, already heading toward the studio door. âalso, our lunch break already started, your gonna miss it if you donât hurry.â
but michael stood entirely frozen long after the door clicked shut behind you. he forced a ragged breath through his teeth, clenching his jaw as he tried to quiet his racing pulse. the exact spot where your lips had touched his cheek burned like an iron brand, replaying behind his eyelids on an endless, agonizing loop. the lingering thrill of the daydream, crashed into the reality of that brief touch, sending a sudden heavy rush of blood straight to his groin. his trousers grew tight and constricting, leaving him alone in the quiet booth with a pulsing ache. a beautiful, agonizing problem that only you could cause, and only you could solve.
âđđđđđđđđ; everyone sees the soft-spoken, gentle, respectful michael jackson â but, after opening night for the victory tour in kansas city and a few bottles of hard liquor, you see how alcohol turns that sweet mouth real dirty
âđđđđđđđ; smut, 18+, heavy alcohol consumption, reaaaaal dirty talkin, soft-dom!mike, semi-public sex (tour bus), cunnilingus, cursing, jackson brothers are such teasing lil shits, creampie.
âđ/đ; HIII, iâm baaaack! did you miss me :D also new layout who dis
Celebrating with the Jackson brotherâs wasnât anything short of lively.
It was a warm summerâs night in July â the air was muggy, manageable, but enough to cast a thin sheen of sweat across your forehead in the main seating area of the black Eagle entertainer coach. One singular window was cracked, letting in a blissful, relieving blast of cold air as the tour-bus whirred down the freeway.
The atmosphere was upbeat â the sound of loud laughter, teasing comments, and playful insults hurled in the air as conversations flowed with ease. For the first time in a while post-concert, every Jackson brother was present â Tito was shuffling a stack of playing cards, Marlon was relentlessly teasing Jermaine for finally being allowed permission back into the group, Jackie was conversing quietly with a fan heâd brought from the bustling crowd of Kansas City, one of the many girls heâd go to pick up after a show, who sat nervously next to him, Randy watched his brotherâs shameless flirting with wide eyes, utterly stunned at his boldness for bringing a girl, let alone a fan, back onto the tour bus with the whole family, and Michael, quiet as always, sat comfortably beside you, his lady, with a hand laid lovingly on your clothed thigh.
All seven residents of the tour bus, excluding Jackieâs friend, encircled two large separate foldable tables, both locked into place to allow card games and beverages to splay across the plastic top.
Speaking of beverages, thanks to Jermaine and Marlon, who decided opening night of their Victory Tour in Kansas City couldnât be a night without a âspecial somethinââ, had provided more than enough liquor to clean a hospital â and maybe even put them in one after consumption.
As Tito announced that heâd successfully shuffled the cards to his best ability, he began distributing them, calling out Michaelâs name to reach over the intersection of the bus to grab ahold of yours and his cards. As your boyfriend rose to his feet, took the cards from his brotherâs hands, and then resided back into his seat â you met his eyes as he handed your bunch to you.
Michael shon a gentle, sweet little smile your way, his eyes twinkling with affection as you watched them travel over your grinning face. His hand slipped back onto your thigh, giving it a small squeeze and a light pat. Sifting through your cards, becoming accustomed to your hand, you let your cheeks warm at the subtle display of affection.
Michael was always doting â from the moment you met, when your high-school best-friend, La Toya Jackson, had brought you home for supper, he had been seeing hearts in his vision.
You had been friends with La Toya from school for a few years at that point in â73, knowing each since the jovial days of middle-school, often walking home together after a long day of classes, and stopping by at her small, yet comforting, home in Gary, Indiana, for dinner. And from the first day you stepped foot in the Jackson home, you were welcomed with open arms â Katherine Jackson, La Toyaâs mother, adored you, always calling you her fourth daughter, and practically begging La Toya to bring you round more often.
And once her older brotherâs got whiff of a new female face around the house â the teasing began. Marlon, being close to you and La Toya in age, loved to pick on you childishly â claiming that he was going to tell the guy at school that you had a crush on, that you liked him, or that he saw him kissing another girl behind the Sycamore tree at lunch. And, as your relationship with the family blossomed and strengthened, you teased back â playfully winding him up, saying that when he approached and painfully flirted with the new girl by the lockers, that he had peanut butter on his chin. He didnât, but the look on his face would send you into fits of laughter.
Tito and Jackie, the eldest of the Jackson siblings, treated you as if you were their little sister â often warning you about what guys really want when they ask a girl to a drive-in movie, or what to say when a guyâs teasing you at school. The rest of the Jackson brotherâs, as well as La Toyaâs younger sister, Janet, all adored you too â finding it bizarre how La Toya didnât introduce you sooner.
Even Joseph tolerated you â and that was saying something.
But, no Jackson sibling, or parent, or cousin, or uncle, or niece, that you met, because you had as Katherine had basically adopted you at this point, would ever equate to your favourite.
Michael.
He was different, intriguingly so, different from all his brotherâs and sisterâs â who were loud, boisterous and lively, who werenât afraid to quip back a snark response during a playful spat, or chase you round the backyard in an attempt to push you into a large murky, muddy puddle during winter. No, he was definitely different. Shy, softly-spoken, gentle and endearingly polite â it was as if all the extraversion was given to his siblings and left him nothing.
But, you liked him that way.
Oh, boy, did you like him.
La Toya would tease you relentlessly â poking your sides when she caught you staring at him from across the living room, or clutching her stomach in laughter when you revealed you actually might have a crush on him, or deliberately knocking into you to force you to stumble into him in the kitchen, muttering a knowing âOopsâ with a smirk on her face as the two of you blushed and apologised profusely.
You were convinced your feelings for Michael were one-sided as after five years of mingling around the Jackson family and falling even harder for the bashful boy, now at the ripe age of seventeen and you eighteen, no obvious, reciprocated romantic emotions were shared. Michael was always sweet and friendly, sharing laughs and stories with you at the dinner table whenever you sat near one another, or bringing you a cold drink on a hot summerâs day when they all moved to Hayvenhurst and youâd stay for weeks at a time during the warmer months â but, his true feelings were never clear.
It was unbeknownst to you that Michael had been utterly infatuated with you from fourteen years-old when you and La Toya trudged through the front door, slinging your back-packs and Mary Janeâs to the floor, and rushing through to the kitchen to formly introduce you to her parents â he was speechless. Even at such a mutual young age, he thought you were beautiful. His boyish heart would thump in his chest at the sight of your plump, adolescent cheeks, soft eyes and toothy grin â but, what got him the most, was the sweet, fruity aroma of your cherry-scented shampoo. The waft of your freshly washed hair flooding his nostrils whenever youâd step foot into the home, running past him with a quick, high-pitched âHi, Michael!â with a cheesy smile on your face â it sent him spiralling.
But, as all inexperienced, nervous teenagers do, they assume the person they like are unlikely to reciprocate their feelings â so, he kept to himself. Letting his brotherâs do all the teasing, and the talking, and the flirting when you turned eighteen â it pained him to keep so quiet, it wasnât out of character due to his shy nature, but all he wanted to do was reach out and kiss you, and tell you exactly how he felt.
And when La Toya, both of you aged twenty, and Michael nineteen, threw a birthday party for her boyfriend at the time, and you consumed one too many fruit-punches from a three litre plastic container in a red solo cup, now completely plastered beyond recognition, did you decide to finally spill your guts.
Literally and figuratively.
You had approached Michael, stumbling and giggling, who sat on the sidelines of the Hayvenhurst back-yard that swarmed with people from your school and his family, pretending the orange juice in his solo cup was alcohol, and sat promptly next to him on a lounge chair.
You let your mind run away with itself â telling him how nice he is for letting his older sister host a party for her boyfriend, who you revealed you hated as you knew he had slept with her other friend before dating Toya, who you also didnât like, and ignored him when he reminded you it wasnât his house, but continued to let you ramble. And when you finally finished praising him, on how nice his shirt was, and his teeth, and his hair, and his eyes, and his lipsâyou had already said too much. Deciding that now was the perfect time to let slip that you had been hopelessly in love with him from the second you laid eyes on him sat on the couch in the little living room of his Indiana home, that your feelings hadnât faltered for the past six years, and that you wanted so badly to kiss him right now.
But, before Michael, who was wide-eyed, slack-jawed and blushing, could have a chance to reveal he felt the same â you were puking into the grass, heaving and crying as he held your hair back.
In the morning, you woke up with a headache and a dry throat on La Toyaâs bed â but, no amount of physical pain could amount to the sheer dread and embarrassment that flooded your system at the realisation of what youâd said the night before. Well, a mere few hours earlier, as your body clock had decided a three-AM till seven-AM sleep was sufficient after a night of drinking.
And when you finally decided to crawl out of bed at twelve-PM that same day, bags under your eyes and hair a mess, you faced your fear â diminishing any humiliation by facing the problem head on.
You had knocked on Michaelâs bedroom door, swallowing thickly and gnawing at your lip as you awaited permission to enter. And when he did, opening the door with furrowed eyebrows and a confused expression, which instantly melted once he set eyes on you, you rambled once more, now sober with no excuse, tears falling freely from your eyes as you apologised.
And Michael, watching as you word-vomited, thankfully figuratively this time, gained a sliver of confidence and cupped your cheeks with gentleness, before pressing his lips to yours to shut you up. You had frozen, before sliding your hands into his bed-head of hair, and sobbing into the kiss, ignoring the way your spit-stricken lips mixed with your salty tears, only catching your breath as he pulled away, whispering a nearly inaudible, âIâm in love with you too.â
The rest was history â Katherine was ecstatic her son and her favourite friend any of her children have ever had, were together, literally jumping for joy and pulling you in for tight hug. Of course, the Jackson brothers teased you shamelessly, never missing a second after you revealed your relationship without picking on Michael with a â âDamn, Mike, howâd you get this one to agree to go out with you?â âI didnât even know you had any game, little brother.â âWhenever youâre done, bring her âround to me, yeah?â
But, for once in his life â he paid no mind to his brotherâs childishness. He suddenly had all the confidence in the world since he was now officially with the one girl heâd been in love with since he was fourteen.
And six, nearly seven years together, here you were â Michael now at twenty-six, you twenty-seven, accompanying him and his brotherâs on their Victory Tour around the United States and Canada. You had accompanied them on many a tours previously, when they became âthe Jacksonâsâ, when Jermaine parted from the group to stay with Motown, and always remained an anchor and lifeline for Michael. He hated whenever there was times you werenât there with him on tour â feeling awfully woeful and lonely laying in an large, empty hotel bed, pouting on the phone to you for hours about how much he missed and needed you, how he couldnât wait to see you in the next city when you were flying in, and how much he loved you.
Like I said â always doting.
âLetâs get this party started, shall we?â Marlon quipped, pulling you from the memory of your childhood love affair, grinning from ear to ear as he reached over the playing cards that Tito had placed in front of him, and grabbed ahold of a large bottle of Tequila â chuckling darkly to himself as he unscrewed the cap and flicked it across the room, howling as it smacked Randy right between the eyes.
Ignoring his brotherâs curses from injury, Marlon brought the glass bottle to his lips, gulping two deep swigs of the hard, straight liquor, cursing as he swallowed.
âYour turn, Mr Big Shot.â Marlon joked, passing the bottle to Jackie, who now had his arm around the blushing fan next to him.
Jackie chuckled, leaning slightly to take the litre bottle from his brotherâs hands, and bringing to his lips as he did â wincing after a large swig.
âYou want some of this?â Jackie asked, turning to the girl next to him.
Her eyes blew open, clearly unaccustomed to alcohol by the way her mouth parted and closed a few times before speaking, âI, um, Iââ
âSweetie, you donât have to if you donât want to, theyâre just alcoholics, so pay no mind to their peer pressure.â You spoke up, leaning over to press a reassuring hand to her knee as you smiled.
She turned to you with a thankful grin, before shaking her head at Jackie, mumbling a soft âNo, thank youâ.
âAlcoholics? Girl, I know youâ lyinâ.â Marlon exclaimed, titling his head at you.
You laughed loudly, âAm I wrong? You just drank that shit like it was water.â
The room erupted into soft laughter as Marlon shook his head with a chuckle, âThat doesnât make me an alcoholic.â
âOh, yeah, youâre right.â You started, with a playful smirk, âAn alcoholic wouldnât go âOoh, ah, fuck, shit, thatâs strong, fuckâ!â
Loud roars of laughter, even including your quiet boyfriend who giggled beside you, filled the room as Tito nudged Marlon teasingly.
âOh, really? Think you can do better?â He shot back.
âIn what way?â
âI reckon you canât take three swigs of that shit without gagging or, or, cursing.â Marlon challenged, raising his eyebrows in contest.
In the true sibling rivalry that you had formed with them, especially so with Marlon, you tongued the inside of your cheek, mentally deciding whether a hangover was worth this childish game.
âOr, you can remain a pussy.â
âGive that here.â You spat, snatched the bottle from the table in front of Jackie, ignoring the way Marlon cackled at the fact his provoking had worked.
With a deep breath, you brought the bottle to your lips â squeezing your eyes shut as the burning liquor trickled down your throat, setting fire to your taste buds as the harsh Tequila settled in your mouth.
One swig, two swigs, three swigs â and you slammed the bottle back down onto the table with a sigh, repressing a gag that threatened to creep up your throat and pressing your lips together to prevent any profanities from falling into the air.
Michael, watching the juvenile scene play out in front of him, squeezed your thigh in support as you finally let out a shaken breath, meeting Marlonâs eyes with your glassy ones, and sticking out your clean tongue.
âBeat that, fucker.â
The taste of Tequila stuck to your tongue as you let the room erupt into applause as Marlon rolled his eyes, âAlways the show-off.â
âYâjust a sore loser, brother.â Jermaine piped up, grabbing an unopened bottle and drinking it himself, as Jackie did the same, handing it to Randy once he was finished.
Within fifteen minutes of the bottles being opened, the room had erupted into tipsy giggles and slurred conversations â Jackieâs girl had finally agreed to have a drink, clearly a light-weight as she was snorting with laughter at whatever Jackie had whispered in her ear. The card game had been abandoned before it even really started â Tito had attempted to explain the rules, but was continuously cut off by Jermaine and Marlon who repeated everything he said back at him in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, before finally giving up and telling them to fuck off, sending laughter throughout the room once more.
Luckily, everyone in the bus had failed to realise the quiet man next to you had avoided taking any swigs from the bottle at all â just silently observing the mess that was his drunken girlfriend and brotherâs unfold before his eyes as cards were thrown around the bus, and competitions on who can do the best Joseph impression sent everyone into fits of giggles.
When finally, his silent avoidance was shattered,
âAy, Mike, you havenât had a drink yet!â
Jermaineâs loud, accusatory voice sounded out into the room, everyoneâs headâs snapping towards the bashful boy, whose cheeks flushed burgundy at the exposure.
âIâm alright, âMaine, I donât fancy a drink.â Michael replied coolly, hand still wrapped around the comfort of your thigh.
âOh come on, everyoneâs drinkinâ, donât be a party pooper.â Marlon teased, eyes drooping slightly as he slurred his words.
âHey, leave my man alone.â You fired back, reaching up to press a defending hand to Michaelâs chest, âHe can choose to not drink if he doesnât want to, Marlon.â
âQuit dick-ridinâ and pass him the bottle.â Marlon spat, laughing as he slid the bottle across the table in Michaelâs direction
âEw, why would you say that?â Michael spoke up, grimacing at the lewdness of his brotherâs words.
Jackie cackled, âActinâ like you havenât been together for, what?, six years? Boy, weâve all heard ya.â
You gasped, âOh my God, what? Please tell me youâre joking.â
âQuiâQuit changing the subject and get some liquor down you, little brother.â Marlon exclaimed, smiling widely.
Michael looked from the bottle, to his brothers, to you â searching for an escape as he swallowed thickly. It wasnât that he didnât necessarily want to drink â he just knew heâd ultimately regret it in the morning or do, or say, something heâd also regret.
You met his eyes, ââS alright if you donât want to, baby, you donât have to.â
The look on your face, eyes bloodshot and hazy, cheeks flushed and smiling toothily, all drunk and happy, made his heart swoon. He was here, with all his brotherâs and the love of his life, touring again with his beloved family on opening night â everyone looked so upbeat and giddy, all desirable qualities after a long first show, surely a drink wouldnât be so bad, right?
That theory was soon diminished.
An hour later, after forcing six long swigs of Tequila down his throat from his persisting brotherâs, who also ended up pouring the liquor straight into your mouth for your seventh swig, everyone was hammered. Jackie and his girl had retreated from the room half-an-hour ago to his bedroom in the back, ignoring Jermaineâs shouts to keep off of his bed. Tito and Randy had fallen asleep on one another, heads resting against each otherâs as their snores filled the quieter room. Marlon was nearly spent â sighing deeply as sleep also threatened to taken over his drunken body as he slumped in the chair.
As for you and Michael, you were tucked neatly into the corner of the cushioned benches around the side of the bus, pressed up against one another â his hands caressing the curve of your waist as you pushed your chest against his, letting him whisper sweet-nothings into your ear, warm breath and soft lips grazing the shell as you shuddered.
Youâd never seen Michael under the influence before, even when you first confessed your undeniable love to him, he had been consuming orange juice all night, so his behaviour had struck you speechless.
The second the alcohol hit his system â he was a changed man.
Suddenly, he was the loudest and most confident man in the room â laughing and shouting boyishly with his brotherâs, shooting insults at Marlon, or letting curses slip past his lips, which erupted gasps in the room at his profanities due to his shy, collected sober nature.
But, that wasnât all.
He became twice as handsy.
It started after his second swig, it all hitting him at once, as his hand trailed just that little bit higher up your thigh, dangerously close to where you twitched â a movement that had your breath hitching in your throat at the sudden action. He played it off smoothly, just peering down at you with an innocent smile when you glared up at him in shock.
Then, after the third or fourth swig, he pulled you into his lap, hand splayed across the bare of your stomach as he rest his chin on your shoulder, ignoring the way everyone exchanged glances at his sudden public display of affection â something he would never normally do around his brotherâs.
Furthermore, after the fifth, he was gone â now kissing your neck openly, running his hands all over your sides in a slow, steady rhythm as he whispered how much he loved you into your ear, and how beautiful you looked, and how happy he was that you were here, and howâ he didnât stop. Just blabbering away, slurring and stuttering, about his utmost gratitude and adoration for you as his breath fanned over the back of your ear.
Finally, he had let you down from his lap after you grew increasingly more bashful at the way his brotherâs ogled and teased about Michaelâs sudden boldness â but, not letting you off that easy. Not letting a single second pass by, once you left the comfort of his lap, before pulling you against him and cupping your jaw to press soft kisses to the ridge.
âGod, youâre so beautiful, Cherry.â
Your heart fluttered at the nickname, a long-standing term of endearment he had given you years ago from the scent of your childhood shampoo, one that he adored, as you braced a hand on his shoulder.
âThank you, Mikey.â You whispered back, head fuzzy and dazed as the alcohol buzzed through your system.
âYâknow how much I love you, right?â He mumbled for the thousandth time that night, the scent of his minty breath filling your nostrils as he pulled back from your jaw to meet your gaze.
âI do, angel,â You hummed, leaning forward slightly to nudge his nose with your own, âI love you more.â
âNo, I do.â
âNope.â
âNo. I love you the most, Cherry.â
âNot true. I love you theââ âGet a room, guys, Jesus.â
Jermaineâs slurred words hit your ears as you turned your head to face him, pulling away from Michaelâs face.
âFine, we will.â
You gasped as Jermaine groaned at the insinuation of Michaelâs words as he rose to his feet, extending his hand to help you up from the seat. You did so willingly, still shocked at his confidence at a such lewd revelation in front of Jermaine, who shook his head.
Michael didnât waste a beat â dragging you swiftly into the back of the tour bus, towards his bedroom, one that was, thankfully, reserved just for him, despite all his brotherâs having to share with one another. His feet moved quickly as he guided you through the dark of the hallway, hand still enclosed tightly in your own as an anchor in the low-lighting, especially in your drunken stumbling.
Once you clambered into the room, giggling as you tripped over your own feet and slammed into his back, Michael shut and locked the door and instantly pressed you against it. His lips met yours instantaneously â a low hum of satisfaction leaving his mouth and into yours as he cupped your burning hot cheeks. His hands, nimble and precise, moved and found solace in the curve of your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you flushed against his body, while his tongue nudged your bottom lip.
You whined into his mouth, feeling awfully needy after his continuous teasing throughout the evening, as he slot a knee between your legs â his clothed thigh now inches away from where you had begun to throb in your panties, now stricken with slick that drooled from your twitching pussy.
The alcohol had hit you straight between the legs â arousal now flooding your veins twice as hard as the liquor had, your head reeling as his eager tongue slipped into your mouth, colliding with your own. The kiss was sloppy and needy, tasting heavily of liquor, tongues and teeth clashing together in a feverish connection as you clung desperately to the fabric of Michaelâs shirt, crinkling the material in your tight grasp.
Michael parted from your mouth for a mere second just to guide you â turning you around from the comfort of the door, and towards the bed. He laid you down gently, as he always did before you had sex, cradling your head to soften the collision with the mattress â before instantly attaching himself back to your lips. Your legs instinctively wrapped lazily around his hips as he hovered over you, holding himself up on two elbows as he continued his work on your mouth, groaning down your throat as you shamelessly began rutting your crotch into the painfully obvious bulge in his joggers.
âSo needy, my baby, hm? You want me that bad?â He spoke lowly, the gruff, deepness of his voice hitting you full force â a soft gasp ripping from your throat as his mouth attached to the bare of your neck, suckling the skin gently.
Youâd never heard him talk like that â even during sex. It was always gentle and loving, coaxing rather than tantalising.
But, thisâthisâwas different.
His voice had a bass in it that youâd never heard before â a dark, seductive growl, a statement of his need.
This was the alcohol talking.
But, as he sucked dark, prominent marks into your skin, now meeting your hips halfway as you humped up into his bulge, mewling as the tip of his stiff cock rocked against your aching clitoris repeatedly â you didnât care.
âMichâMike, God.â Words failed you as you rambled into his ear, hands now threaded through his curls still damp with sweat, âNeed you.â
Michael groaned into the warmth of your collarbone, lips detaching, he lifted himself up, to meet your glassy gaze â pupils blown and dancing in burning desire.
âYeah? Really need me that badly baby, yeah?â
He was slurring, repeating himself, as he rolled a particularly harsh thrust into your clothed cunt â revelling in the way you mewled loudly at the connection, your grip in his hair tightening.
âPlease.â
The sound of your meek begging had him dizzy â theoretically drunk on arousal as he fumbled with the button of your denim shorts, swift fingers dragging down the zipper before pulling them down your legs. He moved even quicker to your shirt â yanking at the hem and practically ripping it off of your body and to the floor, atop of your discarded bottoms.
His eyes met your half-naked frame, now clad in just your bra and panties, which now sported an obvious wet patch right were you drooled in anticipating arousal â a groan slipping past Michaelâs lips at the sight of it.
Your back arched off the bed as his thumb traced the prominent circle of slick that painted your panties â his thumb catching your clenching hole, as well as the edge of your clit, as you jerked your hips into his touch.
âMy babyâs so wet, God, look at you.â Michael whispered, eyes locked on your soaked underwear through the moonlight peeking through the curtains, âWhat am I gonna do with you, hm?â
You whined, an eager, desperate display of your desire, eyebrows furrowed in need as he slid a tentative thumb along your slit.
In your own drunken boldness, words fell from your swollen lips before you could refrain yourself, âFuck me, please.â
âPatience, baby.â He whispered, pulling the your panties to the side, âBeen waitinâ to touch this pretty pussy all night.â
You didnât know what had gotten into him, in your intoxicated brain, but you knew sober you would understand that getting Michael Jackson drunk was like dangling a carrot in-front of a pigs face â you couldnât exist around him while he was drinking without him getting crazed with need.
In a slow, tantalisingly steady movement, he crouched between your thighs, large palms needing the skin as he came face to face with where you drooled. He pressed his warm face right where you needed him â the sound of your aroused gasp at the sudden contact and his deep, guttural groan of satisfaction at the sweet scent of your cunt as he deeply inhaled your aroma, filled the thick air.
âShitâso fuckinâ sweet.â He mumbled, soft lips dragging along your folds as he nuzzled into your sex.
âMichael, plâplease.â
The melodic sound of your whining ripped another groan from deep in Michaelâs throat â grip tightening around the plush of your thighs as they enclosed around his head the second his mouth started working on you. He lay his tongue flat along your cunt, a slow, teasing drag of the muscle along the ridge â collecting your essence that had coated your lips, as well as your thighs, on his tongue.
You cried out, albeit louder than sober you wouldâve wanted, hips jerking up to meet his mouth half-way as he tongue-fucked your cunt â movements sloppy and messy as he lapped at your clit like a man dying of thirst. He, matching your whines of pleasure, hummed and groaned into you â enclosing his lips around your nub, suckling frantically, as a singular finger slipped inside, instantly curling upwards to abuse the spot that had your toes curling.
âOhâOh, Godââ
The words barely made it past your throat, coming out in a croaked stutter, before your orgasm crashed over you violently. In your pleasured and liquor-induced drunken haze, you failed to register the tightening of your abdomen and the twinkling of ecstasy down your spine that occurred prior to your orgasm before it arrived â instantly rendering you speechless, mouth in a tight âOâ shape as your eyes locked into the back of your head.
Michael, still lapping at your cunt, tongue swirling around your clit, and his digit moving at a rapid pace, groaned loudly, the vibration, a statement of satisfaction, only adding to your pleasure, as he began unapologetically rutting into the mattress, attempting to soothe the painfully hard bulge that, drooling pre-cum, rest underneath his uncomfortably tight boxers.
As your release fluttered away into a blissful buzz of post-orgasm glow â Michael took to his knees once more, palm encasing around his stiff cock, now harder than heâd ever been before.
He shuffled closer, a strong hand taking ahold of your hip, dragging you closer to where he throbbed as he continued to jerk himself â utterly bewildered at how hard he had gotten despite his alcohol intake.
Your hand flew to his chest, tangling in the crinkled material of his shirt once more, legs wrapping around his waist, as he decided that tonight he didnât have time for anymore foreplay, that he just needed to be inside you, that there was no time for games.
And, at the sight of your glistening cunt catching in the light, creaming and clenching around nothing, pussy lips all swollen and doing nothing to hide where you dripped, he managed to form a coherent thought â that the sight was definitely going to leave him hard for days.
Michael cursed under his breath at your vulnerability, all spread out and dripping just for him â he stood, hands flying to his joggers, thumb latching underneath the waistband of them, along with his boxers, and tugged them down his legs. He kicked them off his ankles as he crawled onto the bed with you, knees either side of your raised legs, as a firm hand enclosed around the length of him.
He hissed at the contact as he pumped himself, lip coming between his teeth as a dribble of pre-cum slipped from his mushroom-headed tip, and dropped onto the fat of your pussy lips, trickling down your slit. His hazy, drunken mind instantly ran away with itself â eyes locked on the way you clenched around nothing.
âGotta give it tâya, baby, canât wait.â He mumbled, finally slotting between your thighs, sliding the thick of him through your folds, âCan yoâyou take it? Talk to me, pretty.â
You mewled â eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the sensation of the warm, stiff length of him rutting between your folds, gathering your sticky essence along his cock, hips twitching forward, subconsciously begging for more.
âNeed words if you want my cock, Cherry.â
You gasped, your throat dry and sore from the harsh Tequila, at the assertiveness â something completely atypical from your man atop of you. As your eyes shot open in surprise, chest heaving, lips agape, the look of raw, dark, devilish thirst for your submission hit you â the moonlight catching the way his hungry eyes bore into your own, sending shivers down your back, sheen in sweat.
âPleaseâfuckâI can take it, just please.â Your sober self wouldâve curled into a ball of embarrassment at the sheer intensity of desperation evident in your voice â the way it cracked and stuttered as you forced the words out, trembling in desire.
Michael hummed, satisfied with your response, as he pulled your soiled panties completely from your legs and angled himself, albeit clumsily in the drunken darkness, towards your clenching hole. You had attempted to sober up before he pushed in, thinking hard about remembering to keep quiet â but, when he slide inside, sheathing himself to the hilt in a singular, harsh roll of his languid hips, cunt stretching deliciously quickly around the size of him, you failed to suppress to pleasured cry of surprise that left your lips.
Your head lunged back into the pillows, back arching into his chest, your clothed breasts pressing against the soft of his t-shirt. Michael took this opportunity to lean down, slipping his hands underneath your curved back and unclasped your laced bra with practiced ease, ripping it off your arms and to the floor.
âMuch better.â He mumbled drunkenly, hands finding instant comfort in your bare tits â cupping them and using them as anchors as he began his brutal thrusts.
Your breathless, whiny mewls of pleasure only grew in octave and intensity as Michael set a relentless pace â the fat tip of his cock repeatedly slamming against the gummy, sweet spot inside your weeping cunt that had your eyes rolling deep into your skull and carving lines into his back under his shirt.
You chanted his name like a prayer â like you were begging for forgiveness at his feverish pace, his stamina proving just as strong even in his drunken state. Every ridge and vein of his thick cock was dragging along your tight, gummy walls â only increasing your pleasure.
âJesus, Cherry.â He panted, grip tightening as it slid down to your hips as he pulled you down onto his cock, âYâsqueezing my cock like you own it."
You took a mental note to get Michael drunk more often as the provocative words slipped from his lips â forcing your eyebrows to curve up your forehead as the dirty sentence hit your ears.
His brutal pace never let up â hips slamming into your own as he rutted into you like he was born to please you, like he was running out of time. His grasp slipped down your hips to your legs, hands curling underneath the backs of your knees, and forcing your legs to your chest. A choked gasp escaped your throat as he pressed his body weight onto your front â now impossibly and deliriously deep, the tip of his cock grazing your G-spot, and kissing your cervix with every thrust.
âHoâHoly shitâOh, my fucking Godââ
Strings of broken pleas and curses slipped past your lips as he leant over, grunting wildly into your skin as he peppered hurried kisses to your neck â spit glistening on your skin in the light as he continued to force himself deeper.
âThatâs it, thaaaaatâs it, baby, you can take it.â He mumbled, voice muffled as he sucked a particularly harsh love bite into your burning hot skin, âYâsucking me in like you fuckinâ live off my cum.â
Now, that did it for you.
Clenching cunt instantly quivering and fluttering around the thick girth of him, a husky whine ripping from your mouth as your back curved once more, erect nipples grazing his clothed chest, at the sound of his gruff, seductive voice talking dirty to you like he wasnât the shyest, most sweetest boy in the world.
âOoh, MicâMichael.â His name fell from your lips in a shocked, breathless manner, eyebrows still taut into the crease of your forehead.
He ignored your silent, rhetorical questioning for why he was acting so out of character, as in his drunken mind, he saw no difference to his intoxicated self to his usual persona â deciding that instead of replying to your splutters, heâd lift his body from yours, lift your legs into a V-shape in the air and rut into you faster than before. If that was even at all possible.
The scream that ripped from you couldâve been heard by the hundreds of passerbyâs in their cars on the freeway â your hands flying to his forearms, nails digging into the soft skin, tracing the veins that bulged from the tensed skin. Your second orgasm, now scarily close, was given a forceful shove to tick over your gyrating body as your eyes flicked up to your boyfriend â who was a sight for sore eyes if youâd ever seen one.
His head was thrown back, a few stray curls cascading over his flushed face, eyes squeezed shut, his t-shirt between his teeth, now soaked in his saliva, as he mumbled almost incoherently into the material â âOh, yeah, oh yeah, oh yeahâ âFuuuuck, yeah, yeahâGod, fuck, yeahâ âGonnaâGonnaâoh fuck!âGonna cumââ
It was nonsensical blabber â spit staining his lips, and the softness of his shirt, eyes now half-open as they rolled deep inside the sockets, his grip on your ankles, the ones that held your legs up so perfectly despite his drunken clumsiness, tightened as you fluttered dangerously around him.
His name fell from your lips, paired with strings of incoherent sentences about how good he felt, as your orgasm washed over you twice as intensely as the first â nails leaving indefinite claw marks into his skin at the sheer volume of the release. He didnât let up though â still slamming into you like it was what he was born to do, not music, not dance â no, just slip inside your warm, squeezing cunt and let you milk him for all heâs worth.
Michael doubled over, t-shirt slipping from his mouth, now messier than youâd made it, his grip on your ankles diminishing as he fell to your chest â flushed face nestling into the crook of your neck once again as his hips faltered ever so slightly.
âFuckâyâsoâso tight.â Michael inhaled sharply, a raw, broken whine slipping past his swollen lips, âOh myâFuck, âM gonnaâGonna marry you.â He was panting like a dog in heat, still rutting into you as he chased his own release as yours subsided slowly, âMy girl. My fuckinââAah! FuckâGonna fill ya so deep. That what youâwhat yâwant?â
A screech of agreement left your lips at his mindless rambling â cunt spasming violently as the suggestive, pornographic worthy sentences trickled from his lips like syrup, coating your whole body in a thick sheen of arousal.
You almost couldnât quite believe what you were hearing â Michael was usually shy, nearing submissive, and gentle during sex, which you also adored, but thisâthisâwas something to look back on late at night when he was thousands of miles away on tour with your hands down your pyjama shorts.
ââM thereâOh, fuck, âm there!â He cried, knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping the sticky bedsheets beside your head, âTake it, take it, take it, takââ
He cut himself off with a hoarse, raucous groan â so loud it rang throughout the room, near enough echoing with how quiet the bus had gotten without you realising, hips twitching aggressively as he spilled inside you. The warm, blissfully familiar, sensation of his fierce spurts of cum painting your fluttering walls had you whining too â biting your lip so hard the indentation of your teeth was traceable with your tongue, as he, despite being almost painfully overstimulated, rolled his infamous hips deep into you, fucking his seed deeper inside your drooling pussy.
Then came the silence.
The deafening, almost ear-piercing silence that coated each and every corner of the tour bus â no voices, no laughter, no snoring, nothing. Just the uncomfortable knowledge that hung thickly in the air that everyoneâoh yes, everyoneâhad heard you.
Michael pulled out with a wet pop! and rolled next to you with a loud huff â head spinning and eyes fluttering shut as he attempted to catch his breath, chest heaving. You, too, succumbed to the relieving solace that was sleep, your own eyes still squeezed shut as your legs fell to the bed, now sporting a dull ache that matched your sex â now dribbling with his release over the sheets.
But, before your drunken mind could register the severity of what your boyfriendâs brotherâs had just heard â sleep took over. Lulling into a relaxed, much needed slumber â still bare and sweaty, pulled against Michaelâs chest as he too, for once, slept beside you.
However, all actions have consequences.
Unfortunately for you.
So, when you woke that morning, head pounding, lips dry, eyes squinting from the brightness of the morning sun, and body aching â you enjoyed the few blissful seconds of your waking where you had forgotten what youâd got up to last night. Just turning over and smiling softly at Michaelâs sleeping frame, the soft, slow deepness of breathing as he slept calmly warming your heart.
Then, it hit you.
Your eyes shot open â finally registering the hangover and the nakedness you and Michael both sported, mouth hanging open in shock as your vision fluttered towards the locked door to his bedroom, knowing that behind it was a conversation and years worth of teasing youâd never, ever live down.
You knew you couldnât hide in here forever â their next show was tonight, and you needed Michael to recover from the hangover, one that you were certain he would have, as soon as possible.
You groaned, rubbing a hand across your face, knowing that youâd have to take your pride and reputation and throw it out the window onto the freeway that you were still on, and face his brotherâs, just like you had with Michael the morning after your drunkenly confessed your love.
Similarly, you also decided that staying away from alcohol for the foreseeable future was probably a good idea.
Rising from the bed, not without a wince at the dull ache between your legs, solidifying your realisation that everyone had heard how Michael laid it down on you like it was his last day to live, last night â and that there was no way to avoid this.
The bedroom door opened with a creak, impossibly and noticeably loud, as your eyes adjusted to the brightness of the hallway. In the distance, the sound of soft laughter and quiet conversations filled your ears, sighing loudly as it became apparent every member of the Jackson siblings was present in the same room that got you into this mess.
You walked, stealthily slow, head still throbbing wildly, as you finally reached the part of the bus where you knew you would curse yourself for ever entering. Your eyes locked on the five men splayed across the seats, as you did the night before, plates of breakfast and cups of coffee residing in front of them.
For a moment the room stopped â all five siblings rendered themselves silent as their gaze dropped on you, watching as you pursed your lips together, awaiting their next movements.
Your eyes landed on Marlon, whose lips twitched up into a smirk, laughter crawling up his throat as he pointed at you, eyes squintingâ
âDonât you fucking dare.â
The sound of your croaked, stern voice sent the room into screams of uncontrollable laughter â tears falling from their eyes, fists banging on tables, and stomachs clutched as they roared at you. Marlon was practically sobbing â face beat red and cheeks soaked in humorous tears as he gripped Jermaineâs arm for stability, attempting to calm himself down.
âYou two caused this.â You snapped, pointing between Jermaine and Marlon, the mastermindâs behind bringing the alcohol to the bus.
âUs?â Marlon managed to force out between giggles, wiping his face with the back of his hand, âI think you should be thankinâ us, girl. Sounds like you had a reaaal good time back there.â
The room burst into fits of laughter once more, only furthering as you threw a pillow at Marlonâs body, arms crossing over your chest.
âOh, yeah, a real nice time. Remind me, âMaine, did it go more like âOooh, Michael!â or âOhh, Michaeeel!â.â Jackie teased, his voice shifting in octave as he mocked your pleasured moans that had evidently rang loudly throughout the bus.
âReal mature. You never heard people have sex before?â You quipped, trudging to your handbag that lay on the table opposite where the boys sat, and pulling out a packet of Advil, and a grabbing a bottle of water.
âWell, actually, no, I hadnât.â Randy started, a teasing, toothy grin spread across his face, âBut, I sure as hell have now.â
You rolled your eyes as the boys screeched into laughter once more, a snarky remark at the ready to be fired back, when you turned around and your face fell.
âWhatâs so funny?â
Michaelâs tired, hoarse voice rang throughout the now quiet room â all eyes now on him as he rubbed his tired eyes, joggers, once on the floor of his bedroom, now hanging loosely around his hips, as he approached you, back facing his brotherâs as he leant down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. Visible to everyone in the room, a fact that had you squeezing your lips together in dread, were the sharp streaks of nails marks that you had dragged down his back, as well as along his forearms, painted across his skin in deep, rose coloured lines.
You knew the laughter was coming before it even started â eyes fluttering shut as Michaelâs eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. It was apparent to everyone in the room, apart from him of course, that he still had no recollection of the night before â or even if he did, he sure as hell wasnât aware of the intensity of the noise.
Michaelâs eyes flickered around the room, attempting to piece why his brotherâs were in bits from laughter, and why you were knee-deep in embarrassment. But soon, once his vision locked on the three empty Tequila bottles, the opened pack of Advil, bags under everyoneâs eyes, the hickeyâs on your neck and the scrapes of pleasured marks on his arms â he gasped as the ball dropped.
âOh, my God.â He breathed, hand coming to clasp over his mouth, eyes darting between you and his brotherâs, who were watching the scene unfold in real time, only making it twice as funny, âDid we?âOh, no, and theyâthey heard? Oh, GodâOh, my good God.â
You nodded slowly, eyes full of shame as you met his own wide ones â blown into saucers as the dreadful realisation hit him.
Marlon, deciding that laughing in your face wasnât enough, grabbed a half-drunk bottle of Tequila and raised it into the air, waving it in your faces as a teasing reminder on what got you into this mess to begin with, smiling widely, before speaking.
âWhat a great start to the tour.â He breathed out a chuckle, âOh, and youâre welcome, little brother.â
context: michael tries weed for the first time and somehow ends up with his face in between your legs?
The heavy studio door shut out the rest of Westlake Studios, sealing the two of you into an isolated, amber-lit sanctuary of sound. The massive mixing console glowed like the dashboard of a spaceship, its hundred tiny green and red lights casting a warm, technical haze over the room. Through the heavy glass of the isolation booth, everything was dark, but inside the control room, the air was thick, warm, and vibrating with the heavy, unreleased bassline of a rough cut of "Human Nature." The synths swirled through the studio monitors, filling every corner of the room with a lush, melancholic warmth.
Michael was supposed to be evaluating the vocal tracks, but his legendary work ethic had completely dissolved. He was doing a terrible job of pretending to study the soundboard. Every time you leaned back against the plush leather couch, exhaling a thick, slow cloud of sweet, pungent weed smoke, his gaze slipped away from the level meters. First, his eyes would fixate on the lazy, seductive parting of your lips; then, theyâd trace the slow path of the smoke as it drifted down over the swell of your chest, before heâd hastily snap his head back to a random dial, his cheeks flushing a faint, dusty rose. Heâd had a quiet, burning crush on you for months, hiding it behind soft smiles and polite giggles, but the late hour and the heavy studio air were making his usual shy defense mechanisms disintegrate.
He finally gave up the facade, spinning around in his plush rolling chair. He rested his chin on the backs of his hands, staring intently at the glowing cherry of the joint between your fingers.
"What does it actually feel like?" he asked. His voice was a soft, breathy register, a genuine curiosity practically radiating off his frame. "Youâve been sitting there looking like youâre floating in another world for the past hour."
You took another lazy, deliberate drag, letting the smoke curl past your teeth as you smirked at him. " âM telling you, Mike, itâs great. It just... unravels your brain. Relaxes every single muscle. It makes the music sound way deeper, like you can feel the spaces between the notes. It makes everything feel betterâ look better. Even taste better."
Michaelâs large, dark eyes widened, a breathless, high-pitched little giggle escaping him. He sat up straighter, totally captivated. "What? No way. Taste better? Like... like candy? Like real sweet stuff?"
"Like everything," you laughed, the heavy relaxation of the high making your voice drop an octave as you leaned your head back against the leather. "Food, drinks... people. Everything."
He slid off his chair in one fluid, cat-like motion, practically gliding across the carpet until he was hovering right over you. His curls bounced softly around his jawline, catching the red glare of the studio lights. "Lemme try. Just a little bit. Just a tiny puff."
"Absolutely fucking not," you said, your thumb instinctively capping the joint as you pulled your hand away. "Michael, youâre a vocalist. Your lungs are quite literally worth more than my entire life. If Quincy walks through that door and sees you smoking a joint, he will actually murder me, bury me under the studio floorboards, and no one will ever find the body."
"Heâs not gonna walk in, heâs totally asleep in the back lounge," Michael whined. The transformation was instant; his lower lip jutted out into a full, exaggerated, bratty pout that he knew damn well no one could resist. He reached down, his slender, brown fingers wrapping around your wrist. His grip was warm and surprisingly firm, a sudden flash of the commanding performer breaking through his gentle demeanor as he tried to tug your hand back toward his face. "Come on, y/n. Just one little puff. Don't be stingy."
"No, Mike, seriouslyâ"
"Please?" He dropped straight onto his knees by the edge of the couch, looking up at you with those huge, pleading, doe-like eyes. Yet, there was a stubborn, demanding edge to the tilt of his chin. He was Michael Jackson; he was completely used to getting exactly what he wanted. "I want to feel what youâre feeling. Let me try it."
You let out a defeated sigh, completely weaponless against the sheer force of his pout. "Fine. One. You have to actually inhale it into your lungs, Michael, not just hold it in your mouth like a chipmunk."
He snatched the joint from your fingers with a victorious, white-toothed grin. He brought it to his lips with an air of immense confidence, took a massive, greedy gulp of the thick smokeâand immediately turned into a coughing, hacking disaster.
"Oh my god," he choked out, his face turning a deep, burning crimson as he dropped the joint onto the glass coffee table and began waving his hands frantically in front of his face. He bent double, his forehead nearly touching his knees as his chest heaved. âEw! it tastes like burnt grass! Why on earth do you like this?!â He was coughing so hard that bright tears pricked the corners of his eyes, hacking dramatically, his voice cracking as if he had just swallowed pure poison.
"I told you!" you shouted over his coughing, laughing so hard your stomach ached as you reached for the joint before it could burn anything. "Give it here, youâre gonna drop ashes on the rug and burn the place down."
"No!" Michael snapped. With a sudden burst of stubborn energy, he snatched his hand back, pulling the joint completely out of your reach and ignoring your warning entirely. His voice was deeply raspy and cracked from the smoke, but his competitive streak was flashing. "I didn't do it right. Iâm not a quitter. Lemme do it again."
Before you could physically stop him, he brought it back to his lips and took another drag. This time, he clamped his mouth shut, his chest expanding as he forced himself to swallow the smoke down deep. He held it for a split second, his eyes watering, coughed a little less violently into his fist, and then blew out a thick, gray plume, looking immensely proud of his own stubbornness.
Within five minutes, the freight train hit him.
Michael completely melted. The legendary dancer's posture vanished as his spine seemed to turn to absolute jelly. He slid backward off his knees, slumping onto the plush studio floor with his back propped up against the base of the couch, his long legs splayed out in his bright red varsity jacket. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed over with a heavy, glassy sheen, and fixed entirely on the acoustic tiling of the ceiling.
"God..." he whispered. The register of his voice had dropped into an incredibly deep, slow, resonant baritone that sent a sudden shiver straight down your spine. "Oh wow. My chest... my chest feels so warm. Like a blanket. Y/n..."
"You good?" you asked, leaning over the edge of the cushions to peer down at him.
"The music," he breathed, his head rolling heavily to the side against the leather to look up at you. The weed had completely dissolved his filter. His gaze dropped straight to your chest, staring unashamedly, his eyes tracking the heavy outline of your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt before slowly migrating back up to your face. "Do you hear that synth line? No, listen... really listen... itâs like... a cloud. Itâs moving in slow motion through my ears. Did I write that? God, Iâm a genius. Itâs so beautiful I want to cry."
You choked back a loud laugh, reaching down to tug at the collar of his red jacket. "Yeah, Mike, youâre a certified genius. Come here, get off the dirty floor."
"No, âm comfortable," he whined, instantly turning bratty and dead-weight the second you tried to shift him. Instead of getting up, he used his hands to scramble up the side of the couch, dragging his upper body completely across your lap. He was suddenly incredibly, uninhibitedly touchy. He spread his arms out, burying his face for a second against your stomach before his long fingers started tracing a slow, deliberate path up your thigh. His palm dragged heavily over the denim of your jeans, pressing right between your legs with an unbothered weight that made your breath catch in your throat. "Youâre really warm. Everything feels so heavy and soft."
"Michael," you warned, your heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs as his palm shifted, rubbing firm and slow against your crotch. "Youâre so high."
"âM not," he pouted, tilting his head back in your lap to look up at you. His eyes were incredibly dark, the pupils dilated and heavy with a sudden, intense focus. He stared directly at your lips, his thumb rhythmically rubbing back and forth over the tight seam of your pants, right where the friction was already making you slick and wet. He went completely quiet for a long moment, listening to the vocal track of Human Nature fade out on a high, echoing note and loop right back to the heavy, throbbing intro.
"It really does sound better," he murmured, his thumb pressing harder into your heat, his voice dropping into a husky, completely unbothered register that made your skin tingle with goosebumps. His eyes locked onto yours, completely devoid of his usual stage shyness, full of a raw, primal confidence. "And you said... you said it makes everything taste better."
"Yeah?" you whispered, your hands tangling into the fabric of his jacket, suddenly unable to draw a full breath.
"I wanna taste you."
Before the words could even fully register in your brain, Michael didn't lean up for a kiss like you expected. His high, hyper-fixated brain went completely, utterly literal. He slid off your lap, tumbling back onto his knees on the carpet, and immediately reached for the waistband of your pants.
"WaitâMichael, what the fuck?!" you gasped, your hands flying to his broad shoulders to push him back.
"Shh, hold still, let me," he whined, entirely impatient, driven by a sudden, intense curiosity. He was fumbling clumsily with the metal button of your jeans, his fingers thick and heavy from the high. He let out a frustrated, bratty little huff when the denim wouldn't unclip immediately. "Let me do it. Don't move, y/n."
"Mike, you've neverâyou don't know whatâ"
"I want to," he insisted, his voice dropping all its softness as he finally popped the button and yanked your zipper down. He pulled your pants and underwear down past your hips in one rough, eager motion, dragging them down to your knees. He grabbed your thighs, his large hands sinking into your flesh as he shoved your legs wide apart, forcing his broad shoulders right between your knees.
He didn't even pause to look. Driven by pure, unadulterated instinct and the sensory overload of the weed, he dived right in, pressing his open, hot mouth directly against your bare, aching center.
The shock of it made you scream into the empty room. He was way too excited; his tongue was moving frantically, darting back and forth far too fast and incredibly sloppy. He was lapping blindly at you, his nose burying hard into your damp curls, completely bypassing your clit in his frantic rush to taste everything at once. It was a chaotic storm of intense, heavy friction, wet tongues, and hot, heavy breaths blasting against your sensitive skin. Your hips jerked wildly, your hands gripping the leather of the couch as you tried to adjust to the clumsy, overwhelming sensation.
"Michael, wait, wait! Stop for a second!" you cried out, your fingers diving deep into his thick, damp, product-heavy curls, gently but firmly hauling his head back.
He let out a loud, miserable groan, a whiny sound vibrating deep in his chest as he was forced to pull away. He looked up at you from between your thighs with a deeply pouty, unsatisfied expression, his lips completely wet, glistening under the red studio lights with your own escaping juices. "What? Is it bad? âM trying really hard."
"No, baby, itâs not bad, youâre just... youâre going a mile a minute," you breathed, panting as you tried to steady your racing pulse. You looked down at himâhis cheeks were darkly flushed, his eyes totally dazed, but his gaze was completely fixed on the glistening, wet folds of your skin. "You gotta slow down, Mike. Softly. You have to just follow my hands, okay?"
He whined a little, his brow furrowing, but the exact moment you took control and gave him explicit direction, something in his brain shifted. His perfectionist, deeply musical nature seemed to snap into alignment, overriding the chaotic haze of the smoke.
You gently guided his head back down, your fingers tightly weaving through his black curls to dictate the pace, pressing his lips right against your swollen, throbbing clit. "Like this," you whispered, tilting your pelvis up, moving your hips slightly against his mouth. "Slow down. Find the beat of the song. Use your tongue like a heartbeat."
A soft, deep, rumbling hum vibrated directly against your clit as Michael caught the rhythm. He stopped rushing. His tongue flattened out, wide, thick, and incredibly warm, taking long, agonizingly wet, upward strokes from the bottom of your opening all the way up to the sensitive hood. He became completely, utterly obsessed with the sensation, sucking the sensitive little bud into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in slow, heavy circles until you were sobbing out loud. He whined low in his throat every time your thighs twitched or your fingers tightened painfully in his hair.
He was a natural with the rhythm, his mouth mimicking the tight, syncopated timing of the track blasting through the monitors. He opened you up wider with his long fingers, his thumb pressing into your perineum while his mouth worked relentlessly on your exterior.
You were swearing loudly, completely unraveled by the sheer surrealism of the momentâthe contrast of his sweet, high innocence and the absolute, calculated destruction he was wreaking between your legs. "fuck, just like that."
Hearing you use that dirty language seemed to ignite something even deeper in his high brain. He became more aggressive, more demanding. His large hands gripped the backs of your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin with enough force to hold you completely still as he buried his face impossibly deeper into your heat, literally devouring you. He was completely intoxicated by the slick, heavy taste of you, entirely focused on the way your muscles were beginning to tremor under his mouth.
He kept up that steady, torturous, rhythmic beat until you were gripping his curls with both hands, your hips lifting completely off the leather of the couch as the climax hit your nervous system like a bolt of lightning. You fell apart, crying out his name into the empty studio, your internal walls clamping hard and fast in an intense, rolling release.
Michael stayed right there through the entire duration of your orgasm, his tongue unyielding, working through the violent pulses of your body, taking a few final, possessive, slow licks to catch every single drop of your sweetness before he finally, slowly slid back onto his heels.
He looked up at you from the floor, his curls beautifully messy, his eyes heavily hooded and thoroughly glazed over with pleasure. A thoroughly smug, dazed, and high grin spread across his wet lips. He slowly swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, deliberately tasting the sweet, thick mix of you and the lingering grass on his palate.
"Yeah," Michael murmured. He leaned his chin heavily against your bare thigh, letting out a deeply satisfied, sleepy, and utterly ruined sigh into your skin. "Taste is definitely better."
â SUMMARY: Michael oozes sex appeal without even trying. Heâs the worldâs biggest sex symbol, he dances like someone that puts women through mattresses, and his songs are filled with longing to make sweet love to women. So, why wonât he fuck you?
â WARNINGS: sub!michael, objectification/perversion, voyeurism, dacryphila, slight somnophilia, inspection kink, accidental edging, overstimulation, pain kink, face sitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, aggressive sex, mike is pussy drunk, soft dom!reader, cockwarming, aftercare (finally!), fluff.
â WC: 7k (I really donât know how to shut upâŠ)
â A/N: Based off a prompt from this poll. Yeah, itâs gon get real nasty in here. Also, imagine the biggest L-shaped couch in existence. Itâll make a lot more sense that way, trust me. Please like, comment and reblog. Thank you all so much for 300 followers!
It was getting ridiculous. 10 and a half months of tension and torture. You were getting so desperate, you started feeling like a hormone-driven, college-aged man.
Seriously, you were objectifying Michaelâs every action like some pervert. The way his tongue swirled around his lips after theyâd gotten a little dry. Putting on lipgloss just to âshare someâ with him. Purposely asking him to play his grand piano so that you could watch his fingers work over every tooth. Even objectifying the soft sighs of content heâd make in his sleep.
Your body was aching for his touch.
It all came to a head after you watched your tape of Michaelâs Dirty Diana performance in Wembley. Michael had his team take personal videos for you since you couldnât make it due to work obligations. He was going over the videos with you in your houseâs upstairs loft, excitedly gauging your every reaction to the show he put on.
I imagined you standing right on stage with me in this one, heâd told you, handing you the copy so you could put it into the VCR.
As you watched it, you couldnât help but focus on every detail. He looked so desperate and sang so sensually. Naturally, it turned you on, especially since youâve been so hungry for him for so long. You were squirming with every thrust, leaking through every hungry whine that seeped past his lips. After the video stopped, your panties were embarrassingly soaked.
He stared at you expectantly and finally cleared his throat after you sat there eyes wide and silent for 4 whole minutes.
âMichael,â you said evenly, voice coming out smoother than you felt.
âDid you like it?â he asked, aching for your approval.
âLike? Mike my panties are soaked,â you admitted with a longing sigh. You were edging over the precipice of insanity.
âO-ohâŠ?â he responded bashfully, not sure how to insert his commentary into this topic.
Admittedly, Michael was insane about you. He kept up a good front when needed, but there were so many times he almost fully let himself go for you. The time you made brownies together and he purposely swiped his index finger around the remnants inside the mixing bowl, presenting his finger so that he could feel your tongue and cheeks suck around his skin. Or, the time youâd left your shared bathroom door slightly ajar, him eagerly peeking in while he watched you clean your sex precisely, his mouth going dry at the sight of your delicate fingers touching your glistening pussy.
He even got turned on by you crying after the two of you watched a particularly devastating romantic movie. The sight of your eyebrows scrunching together was reminiscent of the few times youâd let your makeout sessions turn into heavy petting and your face would mold into the same look when his hardened length desperately ground against your pajama-clad clit.
Still, your admission left him flustered. You broke the silence.
âWhy wonât you fuck me?â you asked him, eyes pleading pathetically for his answer.
âPardon?â he asked, taken aback by the direct question.
âI said,â you inched closer to him on the couch, hand creeping onto his, âWhy donât you fuck me?â
âI-i wantâŠI willâŠI think about it?â his confession turning into a question as he started losing himself at the feeling of your fingers atop of his. He composed himself and started over.
âItâs justâŠI want to learn you. I sing all these songs about sexual pleasure and desire, but I feel like a poser. I wanna learn your body. I want to know what exactly makes you squirm, what touches bring you over the edge. Most importantly, I wanna please you. Above anything, I want your pleasure to be put before mine. I want to give you everything before I let you take all of me. Before I make love to you.â
His words stunned you. Obviously, Michael was the most romantic and compassionate person ever, but an insecure part of your brain had convinced you he just didnât want it. He didnât want you in that way.
âOh. Yeah, that makes sense.â You were embarrassed now. Your eyes started brimming with tears, embarrassment flooding over you for ruining the moment.
âHey, whatâs the matter, baby? Câmere. Whyâd you ask me that?â he asked you, his slender form slinking closer to yours, engulfing you into a tender hug. He ignored the arousal threatening to bubble through his actions at the sight of your tear clad face.
You hurriedly wiped the tears that were desperately inching to slip from your eyes.
âI dunno. I just thought you didnât want me in that way. You always stop anything before we can let it get too far. You even cover your eyes when I get naked in front of you.â You let out an airy laugh at the thought. He slightly leaned his body away from yours, capturing your face in his gigantic hands.
âOf course I want you in that way. Didnât you see my performance? I basically begged for your body up there. I guess I just suck at asking for it.â He scratched the back of his neck, the realization of his lack of direct communication now weighing on him.
âThen do it,â you demanded, the need in your voice almost turning it into pleading. âAsk for it. Beg. Show me you want me.â
He expression turned serious, eager to please you.
âI will.â It was a promise, leaving no room for questions or confusion. Immediately, the weight in the air turned from confusion and insecurity to unbridled lust and determination. He was gonna learn you the way he described.
Faster than you could protest- not that you would- he adjusted your positions. He gently leaned your back onto the enormous, expensive black couch and positioned both of his legs on either side of your torso.
âIâm gonna kiss you first. But please, tell me everything you like. Tell me what you want. Iâm going to give everything to you,â he stated, and he leaned in for the kiss.
It was explorative and wandering, his tongue prodding here and there with unspoken questions of your desires. Heâd bite your lip, pocketing away your reaction as if he were studying it for a test. When he started sucking your tongue, a loud grumble settled deeply in your chest, and he responded with a groan, pleased with his findings. You were nasty, like him. He liked that.
His kisses escaped your encapsulating lips and immediately found their way to your ear. This was something he was curious about. He parted his mouth and gave your lobe a curious graze, looking up at you from under his long lashes. Your back arched infinitesimally as you let out the quietest whine known to humanity. He dove back in and bit harsher, and you whimpered desperately.
âHmm,â he noted to himself.
His lips and tongue explored your neck next, eager to have an excuse to mark you through in his study of your body. He was fully committed to his research, obsessively sucking and biting the supple skin of your neck as he cradled the side of it in a vampire-esque way. The way you gasped and groaned whenever he sucked harsher bruises into your skin was magnetic. His mind was driven to please.
He continued his journey to your tits, the sight of them short circuiting his brain momentarily. He removed his mouth from the swell of them and groped them greedily, his palms pressing deliciously against your braless nipples through the fabric. He wet his lips at the erotic sight of you. You looked up at him, a silent plea in your eyes for more, and he curled his fingers around the neckline of your tank top.
âDo you want-â Michael began.
âTake it off. Want your mouth on my nipples,â you instructed. You sat up as he followed your command instantly, his hands removing your shirt with precision.
You didnât know how much you needed this. The moment his lips met your erect nipples, your brain seized with an electric jolt of pleasure.
âMmm,â you sighed, basking in the pleasure and heat. He was sucking at your breast like he was thirsty, every twitch from your body giving him encouragement. He tried your other breast and you reacted even more so.
âThis oneâs more sensitive.â It wasnât a question, it was a statement. He was still researching your body.
âY-yeah- shit,â you let out an expletive at the feeling of his tongue flicking up and down on the sensitive nub, and you could sense a teasing demeanor slip through his ministrations. You grabbed onto his head and aggressively mashed it against the plush area, eliciting a whimper from him. Your dominance turned him on.
He popped off after your grip on his head loosened. His body slithered down your own like a serpent, sliding down in a way so fluid you wouldâve applauded if not for the situation you were currently in.
Then, he just stared at you. Your hair was in a disarray and your nipples were wet and hard. You had the evidence of his possessiveness littered all over your neck and collarbones. To top it off, you were whimpering and panting underneath him. He absolutely adored you like this.
He grew a little more confident, testing your limits here. He had a sneaking suspicion you were into something else. Experimenting with this theory, he ran his hands up and down your torso, preparing for his surprise. Then, you felt a hypnotic jolt of pleasured pain shoot up your spine and let out a cry.
Heâd pinched both of your nipples. Hard. After seeing your reaction, he did it again, testing how much harder he could go.
You were an absolute mess. You couldnât even speak, just letting out whines of approval.
Michael just kept watching.
He dragged his nails up and down your body, starting from the dips in your collarbones to the tops of your knees. It was exhilarating. Particularly, his hand being so close to your neck. You grabbed for it a bit when he was dragging his hands down, but he misread that as you wanting him to go lower. You decided youâd bring it up later.
âCan I take your jeans off and you turn around, please?â he questioned you, an idea evident behind his dark eyes.
You obliged suspiciously, throwing your bottoms on the stack of tapes youâd watched earlier.
As soon as you settled comfortably onto your stomach, Michael lowered his body onto your thighs and slapped your ass so hard that you felt stars. You immediately arched up into his touch, the movement causing his crotch to rub against the back of your thighs. You both moaned out- you lewdly, him embarrassed- at the contact. He rubbed the sensitive area pervertedly, gripping onto your cheek in an unintentionally obvious way.
âS-so you like pain.â Again, not a question, but a note he was taking on this crash course of your desires.
âMm- yeah i love it,â you revealed in a tone Michael had never heard you use before. Heâd already started making you feel so far gone and he hadnât even traveled to where you wanted him most.
âOh god,â he whispered to himself. You heard it, though.
âWhat?â you asked through ragged breathing, craning your neck the best you could to see his face.
âKeep talking like that, please. Iâm into it.â He closed his eyes slightly and rocked his hips onto your thighs subconsciously as the tone of your voice echoed in his brain.
âHit me again, Mikey. I want it.â You sounded like a pornstar. The tone in your voice was stuck between being full on moans and needy whines.
He obeyed without second thought, his eager eyes watching as the skin under his large hand recoiled and got darker.
âF-uck!â you hiccuped out. You felt tears stinging your eyes at the sensation. The pain was so fucking good. You could feel your pussy glue to your panties from all of the arousal drooling from it.
You arched your ass up higher now, your body craving for more of him. You wanted him everywhere.
He let out a little yelp at the sensation, but then his eyes got distracted.
You were wet. Really, really wet.
Without thought, his hand fluttered straight to the spot on your panties, running over it once so he could feel the stickiness on his fingers.
âCan I please take your underwear off? I wanna look at you,â he asked with patheticism in his voice.
You lifted your ass up higher and let out an âmhmâ giving him the okay to slide them off for you.
As he dragged them off your feet, he got off of your body and gently pushed you forward a little more.
âCan I have you stay exactly the way you are, but just on your knees?â
You obliged, leaving your head and torso against the couch while your ass went higher into the air, like you were gonna take him from behind. The image made you clench longingly. He caught that movement immediately.
Then, he sat on his knees right behind you, positioning his face right in front of your core. He leaned in and fanned his hot breath over it, watching you flinch and clench again. He took his middle finger and ran it up and down your folds annoyingly slow. His finger went inside of you just barely, testing how tight it was and teasing you by rolling it around slowly. He pulled out and sucked loudly on his finger for you to hear. Your hole leaked a clear, slick liquid.
He moaned at the flavor, tattooing it to his memory, before he took that same finger and rubbed it into your clit with a feather-like touch.
He knew you wanted more, and he wanted to give it to you, but God, the way your pussy reacted to everything was so captivating. He could watch it clench and leak forever. He dragged his finger back toward your entrance and spread you open with it, inspecting every ridge and fold that his eyes could register. His mouth watered.
You let out a soft whimper when his finger probed your hole again, your resolve weakening.
âMichael stop fuckinâ teasinâ me,â you whined.
âIâm sorry baby, you just look so pretty down there,â he responded, slipping his digit inside immediately. The way you clenched around it was like ecstasy.
âYeah! Mmm, Mike. Go in ân out fast ân c-curl your finger up when itâs inside. I- ahh- like it rough.â
You liked it rough. Those were the words that influenced the rest of his actions for the night.
He added his index finger and pistoned them both into you harshly, letting your moans fill up his ears and be his driving force.
âLike that, baby! Fuck! F-feels so fucking good,â you mewled.
He leaned down and slightly nipped your ass cheek, eager to see you squirm and feel your hungry pussy suck his fingers deeper inside.
You shrieked and pushed your ass back farther, your walls closing in against his digits. It was getting harder and harder to move inside you.
âYou have to relax, love,â he coaxed you gently.
âNgh- j-just feels too good,â you babbled out. Your brain was making it feel like every nerve of your body was receiving a sensual kiss. You could barely think. Then his tongue was on you.
He latched onto your clit with perfect accuracy and started sucking cautiously, knowing the area was particularly sensitive. Your legs spasmed and you got up onto your hands, needing some grounding. You moaned out his name and the sound hit him like a symphony, encouraging him further.
âMmm, Michael. Youâre so good. Perfect, feels perfect.â you praised him, unable to say proper sentences.
He hummed against you, still keeping up that aggressively brutal pace with his fingers, and you started to see white.
âOhhh my- Iâm s-so close!â you called out, feeling the all too familiar whisper of release heightening your senses and settling into your abdomen.
He sat back, his chin covered with your essence, and set his pace with his fingers faster. Then, he stopped and pulled them out hurriedly.
âI wanna see you. Can you look at me while you cum?â he asked as he slid directly under shaking body, your dripping pussy directly above his face. He pulled you strongly by your thighs, settled you onto his mouth, and continued feasting. His eyes trailed from your beautiful breasts right up to your contorted face, and he moaned loudly at the sight.
You sat up, feeling your orgasm approach again, and rode his mouth and nose for dear life, grabbing one of Michaelâs hands to play with your nipple. You watched his face as you ground back and forth.
You looked too good to be true. He got lost in the meal and lightly grazed your clit with his teeth, wanting to learn just how rough he was allowed to get.
Your legs suddenly locked up and you buried his nose deep into your pelvis, blocking all of his air. Then, he felt it.
Your eyes rolled up and your hand gripped from his and slotted into his hair and you let out the most broken moan imaginable. Your warm, sticky release soaked the entire bottom half of his face.
âF- OH!â was all you could say as it dawned on you.
Michael couldnât breathe, but he didnât want to. He lapped at you through the whole thing, his vision blacking out as he lost air. You leaned forward and collapsed your body right above his head, having enough sense to remember to let him breathe. Again, Michael didnât want to.
He got a fierce hold on your spent body and sat you right back on top of him, wanting more of your juices. He would happily pass out over and over from you suffocating him with your pussy if it were up to him.
âNot done yet,â he stated as he dove back in, this time groping your ass and pulling you onto him by it. He shoved his nose forward, fiercely taking his air away, while looking up at you like you were treasure.
âMike! Sâ too m-much.â You started sobbing above him, the pleasure overwhelming you. A tear spilled over your cheek and landed on his forehead. Yet, you secretly didnât want him to stop. The fire in his eyes to please you was intense and infectious.
Michael ignored your words, eyes glazing over at the sight of your pleasure evident tears, as he started losing oxygen again. He moved his nose away and inhaled the air desperately, ready to lose it all again.
Unbeknownst to him, your second orgasm was running toward you at full speed, not giving you enough time to prepare for it. You choked out a glorious sob of his name and jerked your hips up, the tip of his nose sitting proudly under your clit.
Underneath you, he was smiling like a lunatic
You slid down and laid atop of his body, catching your breath for the second time, after not even really catching it the first.
He looked down at you on his chest, worried heâd pushed you too far.
You could feel his loaded gaze on you.
âNot done. Just need to catch my breath,â you said as you looked up and gave him a lazy smile.
It took his breath away. You looked ruined. Your eyes were red and wet with tears, your hair was a mess, the hickeys and scratches on your skin were darker. And you were drooling.
âYouâre breathtaking,â he told you with a genuine gasp.
âSo are you,â you complimented. He looked just as fucked out as you did, and he wasnât even getting touched.
âI need you. I want you inside of me, and I want you to fuck me senseless. Give it to me,â you remarked, not caring to catch your breath anymore.
Your hand traveled to his belt and worked it open without waiting for a response. You unzipped his pants, and then looked back up at him.
âTake these off. And your shirt,â you ordered him bluntly. His cock throbbed ravenously at your dominance.
âYes. O-okay,â he said as he gently slid from beneath you and followed your orders, throwing his clothes right on top of yours.
You licked your lips at the art in front of you, his beauty something you swore was inhuman.
You lips met his hungrily as you carefully laid back on the couch, mimicking your earlier position. You pulled him between your parted legs and flush against your chest, gently rocking back and forth with his heavy length going between your clit and stomach. You felt his precum dribble right above your pelvis as he let out a broken whine. You broke away from the kiss.
âI need you inside Michael,â you said, dangerously close to begging him.
He sat up and grabbed your face between his large palms, his eyes giving you a serious look.
âI love you so much, my pretty girl. You tell me if it hurts or if you get uncomfortable or wanna stop, okay? And tell me when it feels good, please,â he asked you passionately.
âI will,â you declared, your heart softening at the depth behind his words.
He positioned his leaking length between your folds and grazed his tip against your clit, teasing himself in the process. You bucked your hips up with a huff. Michael grabbed you by them, leaned forward to kiss you, and pushed himself in at the same time.
You both moaned against each otherâs mouths, and Michael stopped halfway, resting his forehead against yours. The tightness of your pussy was dangerous. The length and girth of his dick was too.
He was fucking huge. His dick was splitting you open hungrily and you were clenching around him like you craved it all.
âHoly shit, youâre huge. Oh my, fuck. Put it all in,â you demanded and you pulled him forward needily.
Youâd never felt so filled in your life. You could see him in your cervix, feel him in your veins, and even taste him on your tongue.
Michael was also absolutely losing it. He never knew sex could feel this good. You guys hadnât even started properly making love yet, but he felt incredible. Your walls were basically choking his dick. Each clench you gave him was like a vice. His instincts took over and he started thrusting into you hungrily.
The sounds that left your mouth were downright sinful. If he didnât know any better, heâd think you were faking your moans. They sounded like cascades of love, and very pornographic.
âMichael, oh my god. Yes!â He found your g-spot. âRight there! Fuck me harder!â you exclaimed. Then, you remembered something. âCh-choke me. Baby- shit. Choke me Michael.â
âYes ma- ahh- hmm. Yes, baby.â He was fucking you senseless. He watched as your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled out of your bruised, plump lips and he went deeper and gripped your neck. You were losing yourself in the pleasure he was giving you, and thatâs exactly what he wanted.
âB-baby. Look at me please. Wanna see you,â he said desperately, craving the approval from your eyes. He moved your head by your neck to look at him, and your eyes traveled back his face. Your gummy walls clenched around his engulfing dick at the sight of him. He was fully crying, the tip of his nose turning red.
âOh, Michael. Youâre heavenly,â you praised him causing him to shyly duck his head. You thrusted your hand up and forced his face up by his cheeks, squeezing them ferociously.
âI wanna see your expressions too, angel face. L-look how good youâre fucking me.â You pulled his face down to look at where the two of you became one, and directed his face back to yours, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.
You were losing yourself in the feeling of it all, already being so overstimulated from earlier, and you felt your third orgasm of the night approach you. You tried pushing away for a second to warn him, but Michaelâs lips chased yours instantly. He was completely gone.
You opted for using your free hand to reach down and circle your abused clit to take you over the edge. The doubled friction was so good, it only took a few harsh rubs, and you were gone.
As you came, your body went completely limp under his, your legs flattened on the coach cushions and your hand dropped from his now sore cheeks.
He kept going, even as you came down. This man was completely lost inside of you, and he was moving in a way that suggested he didnât wanna be found.
âMikeyyy,â you moaned out at him, the sensitivity numbing your brain too much to finish your thought.
He didnât listen to your protest, or couldnât. He just wanted you to keep feeling good, and the way you continuously sucked him in showed him you were still enjoying it. He felt so good, but he didnât want to let go. He displayed his strongest act of willpower, edging himself over and over with each one of your orgasms. He almost came when he fingered you, when ate you out, hell, even when you told him to take his clothes off.
He slowed down a bit, learning every ridge inside of you and committing it to memory. He savored the slower pace as well, burying himself to the hilt and holding his dick deep in you after each stroke.
You could practically taste heaven on your tongue.
His curly hair was stuck to his forehead and he was giving you the biggest puppy-dog eyes youâd ever seen on a human.
You could feel yet another orgasm coming, this one coming in like a thunderclap before lightning; you could sense it with enough time before it happened to warn him.
âMik-ey. Gâna cum again.â You turned your head and kissed the inside of his wrist next to you.
âPlease. Please cum again, pretty. I wanna feel it again,â he pleaded. He leaned down closer to you, his whimpers falling into your ears while he thrust harder and harder, drinking up the bliss painted on your face.
You came around him with a heartbreaking whine, your bottom lip jutting into a full on pout and your chest heaving with sobs. Youâve never felt so good in your life.
He slowed down a bit more, albeit not coming to a full stop, and wiped your tears with one hand.
âP-please one more, doll. Please. Iâll cum with you this time. Jusâ need one more. Need you to cum on- ngh- on me again.
At the realization that yes, he hadnât cum at all, your pussy throbbed at his act of service. He was physically holding himself back just to ruin you like you told him to. He was such a good listener.
âOh, my sweet boy,â you cooed at him reaching up to grip your fingers into his hair. âTake another one from m-me. I can handle it,â you stated, determination creeping into your voice.
He let out a beautifully tragic whimper at your demand, and picked up his pace. He lifted himself up and propped one of your legs onto his shoulder, determined to get you there as soon as possible.
It was like a new hunger bubbled up inside of you. Your body was still aching with sensitivity, but it was as if you still hadnât been touched. The aggression in his moves had you seeing God.
âI wanna get on top,â you let out before you could even think. Your lips were moving faster than your brain had time to filter your thoughts.
âGod damn,â he responded at your declaration. He flipped your bodies over expertly and held your waist in anticipation. You looked him in the eyes and placed your hand into his neck to steady yourself.
He let out a choked moan at the contact looking up at you in shock.
âCan you squeeze my neck, please? Please choke me,â he begged, his mouth parted desperately.
You gave it a rough squeeze and you took his ginormous dick inside of you. The dual pleasure was pushing him to the edge. He rolled his eyes back and smiled like he was on psychedelics, the lack of air making everything feel like ecstasy.
You released his neck slightly, giving him room to breathe, as you started bouncing up and down, your tits bobbing seductively above his face as you did so. You dragged your free hand up to your tits, holding them under your arm to stop the harsh drag of them. That only made it worse for him. The roundness of them became more prominent with the strain of your arm.
You looked back down at him with your eyebrows knitted and your eyes lowered with lust. You reached back down and kissed him intimately, squeezing his neck tightly and opening your eyes to take in his expression. He looked like lust personified. Then, you felt it coming and you broke the kiss. You removed your hand from his neck and lightly smacked his cheek, signaling him to look at you.
âGâna cream that big dick of yours M-Mikey. You gotta cum with me. âM soâŠIâm gâŠI- FUCK!â
This orgasm tore through you like a tsunami, crashing over and over in brutal waves.
Michael came as soon as the first clench came from your pussy. He cried out the prettiest moan youâd ever heard, the sound rivaling his singing vocals.
âPlease, please, please, thank you. Y-yes! GOD, oh, thank you, I love you,â was all he could say between sobs.
You collapsed on top of him and caught your breath, letting his dick soften up inside you. After a moment, you pulled him out of you and felt both of your releases spill onto the couch. Michael could feel some of it slide down his own dick and he whined at the feeling. He was that sensitive.
âMy god Michael, youâre insane,â you said, breaking the silence.
He let out a breathy laugh.
âOnly for you,â he responded, looking at you with lazy eyes.
âYeah, you better,â you said only half joking, your hand coming up to his face to squeeze his cheeks together again.
The two of you got up and stretched, joints aching with the activities of the night.
âLet me run us a bath, pretty girl. Iâll be right back,â Michael stated, still so eager to service you. He gave you a kiss, took your scattered clothes, and disappeared into your roomâs shared bathroom, turning on the faucet of the huge bathtub and pouring in bubble soap and bath salts. He dimmed the lights and turned on the mini radio that sat atop the spacious counter, humming along to the jazzy instrumental crackling from its speakers. He left the bathroom, leaving the bath to run, and walked into your shared walk-in closet.
He picked out simple pajamas for the two of you. He got a plain white tee and tartan pajama pants for himself, and a pair of boyshorts and one of his comically oversized graphic tees for you, knowing you liked wearing it as a nightgown sometimes. He smiled to himself as he folded the clothing and placed them on top of the bed, awaiting your arrival.
Youâd walked into the room shortly after, having tidied up the living room and cleaning up the cum from the couch. Your legs were aching from the sex and walking up the steps. You opened the door with a creak, legs almost giving out.
He turned around to face you, having just completed his task of putting both of your soiled clothes in your shared laundry basket. He grabbed your hand as he went to turn off the faucet in the bathtub, followed by sounds of you complaining. He didnât want to walk away from you while you just came in, but your legs felt like you were moving in quicksand. He dipped his hand inside, testing the water and motioned for you to check for yourself. You gave him a thumbs up.
âYou actually ruined me, Mike,â you complained dramatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
âThatâs exactly what you asked me to do. Multiple times, at that! Canât go back on your word now, silly girl.â He chuckled softly and booped your nose before stepping into tub, grabbing onto your hand to help you in like a gentleman.
âIâm not, I just wasnât expectingâŠall that. It was like you were a different person. Very sexy of you, by the way.â You settled in front of him and he grabbed your loofah, doused it with soap, and started washing your back for you like it was something he was used to. He scrubbed you like you were the most delicate thing in the universe.
âI dunno what came over me either, honestly. I really was jusâ cravinâ you that much. I didnât even know needinâ you more than I usually do was possible.â He paused, his usual shyness creeping back in. âAnd, uh, you were very sexy as well. Better than I ever imagined youâd be,â he tacked on, flustered.
âThank you, angel.â You leaned your head back and gave him an upside-down kiss on the lips, feeling a shy smile creep into his lips. You picked your head back up and twisted your upper body around to face him.
âAww, my baby,â you cooed at him.
âYâknow that nickname makes me shy,â he says, referring to âangelâ and all variations of it. He lifted your arms and scrubbed your sides and your stomach, traveling his way to your breasts as you responded.
âHow can I not when you have such an angel face? Youâre so precious, câmon,â you fake pouted at him. Sweet vanilla and warm cinnamon filled your nostrils. Your favorite body wash. âSee? You even act like an angel. You replaced my favorite body soap for me âcause it ran out.â
âThatâs nothinâ. Iâd buy you a castle-â he paused, seeing the incredulous look on your face, realizing he was somehow helping your point. âOkay, okay whatever. Youâre the one sent from heaven, though. Here, gimmie your leg ân hold onto my shoulder.â
Your face warmed up at the sincerity in his tone and the gentleness he used with you. As he continued his work, you watched him, filled with gratitude. He was so happy taking care of you like this, and you wondered how such a sweet person could truly exist.
As he finished you up he started washing himself up as you watched in adoration. You took his loofah and scooted to switch sides with him, washing his back as he did yours. He hummed along to the instrumental from the little radio, sounding identical to the saxophone singing from it. So beautiful.
The two of you dried your feet on the plush carpet beside the tub and stepped into the shower directly next to it to wash your hair and rinse off.
He washed his own hair as you rinsed off and cleaned your legs once more, both of you clingily standing under the huge showerhead that was big enough for more space between the two of you. You were just craving each other more than usual after crossing that final line.
You stood behind him as he wrung his hair, in no rush to free your eyes from the sight of his sleek, yet toned back in front of you. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder and ran your hands up and down his waist once. Lurching forward, you grabbed your shampoo, and Michael took it from you unexpectedly.
âWet your hair for me?â he asked, squeezing a glob into his hand and lathering it up.
You did just that and he turned you away from him, massaging the shampoo into your scalp as he combed your hair simultaneously. The domestic action made you want to drop to your knee and propose to him right there.
You reached your hand back and rubbed it up and down his arm in a silent âthank youâ, too content to break the silence.
He grabbed it and gave it a romantic peck, rinsing the shampoo off and gently placing it back to your side. After he finishing working in and rinsing the conditioner, he stepped out of the steamy shower, leaving the water running for you. He grabbed your towel and beckoned you out, wanting to make sure you stayed warm the whole time.
He stepped back in and turned off the faucet and you wrapped yourself up, and then unraveled your towel and dried you off. He patted your hair dry and wrapped it up, as you made your way to the sink counter to get your blow dryer. You turned it on its second coolest setting and blew the water out of your hair, not focus on getting it to look a certain way.
He drained the tub, rinsed it out, and then dried off as you finished with your hair. He handed you your bathrobe.
âHere sit down,â he motioned to the plush ottoman sitting in there for whenever you moisturized your body. He grabbed your lotion and kneeled down, lathering it into your neck and shoulders, then down the front and back of your torso, lifted you up so he could get your ass, rubbed into your thighs and legs, and finally massaged your feet.
âBaby, you donât have to do all this,â you protested, feeling bad that he was spending more time on your showing process than his own.
âI want to. I told you, I wanted our first time together to be perfect. That includes aftercare, baby. Besides, this is bare minimum.â He scoffed at your protest, offended. He placed your foot down and looked up at you, eyebrow raised.
You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He lotioned himself with his own scent with super speed, and out in his own bathrobe, then reached for the blow dryer. While he dried his own hair, you washed your face and moisturized it, letting the cool products seep into your skin. You picked up both of your towels and put them into your bathroom hamper as he quickly washed his own face. You slinked out of your bathrobe, hanging it up on the rack, and he followed behind you, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.
You saw the clothes folded up on the foot of the bed and smiled at him lovingly.
âYou are so cute, did yâknow that?â you asked him as you took in the setup before you.
âEnough of that,â Michael said, feigning annoyance. He was really just flustered. âHere, step in.â You pulled your boyshorts up your legs and over your naked sex and bottom. He ignored the way they fit on you and then stood up and pulled his t-shirt over your head. He hurried into his clothes and lifted the blanket on your side of the bed, leaned you into it.
âGonna turn off the light,â he said as he ran to the wall and back to the bed, not really giving you time to notice he was leaving.
As the mattress slightly does on his side, you reached out for him and laid your head onto his chest, smelling the scent of your body wash and his own lotion on him. You softly sighed.
âThank you for being so good to me,â you said tiredly.
âNo, thank you. Iâm so happy I made you my girl, ân Iâm so grateful I got to express my love for you physically today.â He gave you a kiss on your forehead and pressed your body closer to his. âCan I have a kiss?â he asked you shyly.
âYou donât have to ask, yâknow,â you said with a chuckle as your lips met his. You deepened it slightly, suddenly getting another flood of arousal at the feel of his body through his thin clothing. He did too, and you could feel it.
âIâm for sure too tired for a round three of a sixth orgasm, but we can try something,â you mused.
âYeah, ân whatâs that?â he asked with a smirk.
You pulled down his pants just enough to free his hardened sex, and pulled your own undies to the side. You gave him one more kiss and turned around, pushing it into you with a soft whine leaving both of your lips.
The stretch did just enough, as did your tightness around him. He slightly throb inside of you, the feeling of your cunt around him acting as a sensual hug. He adjusted just slightly, subconsciously aching for the friction he felt earlier. You both lazily met the otherâs slow grinds, too tired to chase release, but still desperate for just a little bit more. It felt magical and poetic. You eventually stopped moving, too tired to take anything more from each other.
âGoodnight, my darling girl. Thank you for accepting the raw, unfiltered version of me. Iâve never been this vulnerable with anyone, nâ Iâm so grateful that it was with you. I canât wait to learn you more. I love you so very much,â he declared.
âI love you too, baby,â you said, exhaustion lacing your voice. âYouâre perfect, all of you. Thank you for being comfortable for sharing it all with me. âN thank you for wanting to meant me. You make me feel so appreciated and adored. Sleep well, my love.â
You both felt eternally close to each other now, physically and emotionally. The activities of today blanketed your figures in a heavy gratefulness.
He pulled you back, wanting to be even closer to you somehow, and pressed kisses up and down your neck and the side of your face. He hummed a soft tune and stroked your hair softly as the two of you drifted off to sleep.
Usually heâs tucked into your side, inhaling you with each breath, his parted lips ticking hot air onto your neck. On nights when youâre still awake, staring up at the ceiling with an arm around Michael and the other behind your head, youâd catch him mumbling in his sleep.
It has become one of your favorite past times honestly, making out his dreams solely based on his incoherent babbles or sudden twitches in his body.
âMâMickeyâŠâ you caught him mumbling into your skin one night. Uh oh, another Disney coded dream. You honestly back to bite the side of your cheek to restrain your laughter. âThatâs my lady, ainât she prettyâŠâ
On another night, you even caught him talking to your âkidsâ, which made you heat up yourself. You imagined that Michael was dreaming of the two of you in your own, Tudor styled home, with a three floors and a big yard. You couldnât make out the names of your kids, but boy there was a lot.
Michael became whiny when got up, complaining about how cold he is and how much he needs you. Tempting.
Even if when youâd shift, maybe to make a little bit of space between you or just simply adjusting your position, he pulls you closer. Itâs like he has this sensor that goes off whenever you arenât skin to skin.
But you both have work to do today, and you unfortunately canât spend it cuddling with the best boyfriend in the world. Pulling back the sheets was like lifting a rock from a bug. He curls into your side of your bed, desperate for your warmth as he whined into the seam of your pillows, escaping the sunlight from the drawn curtains.
âTorture!â he croaks, rolling onto his back with a pillow pushed to his face. His shirt rode up at his torso, revealing that brown, toned stomach. If he knew how much you wanted to lay back down right now.
After spending ten minutes getting him out of bed, washing his face, and guiding him to the barstool seats at kitchen island, he still dozed off. You snorted as you moved around some bacon in the pan when you looked over your shoulder. Luckily the smell of breakfast woke him up a bit.
When you serve yourself and sat next to him, he lazily picked at his food, chin planted in his palm as he blinked slowly.
You laugh in amusement and adoration, âDonât tell me I have to feed you as well.â
He tilts his head and with a raised a brow, like heâs considering your gracious offer, âthat could happen.â
Michael was a greedy man. He craves your attention, your warmth, your presence. This whole âsleepy actââ whether it was realâ was between him and the man upstairs. If that meant staying up late a night so heâll be tired as hell in the morning⊠worth it. In the meantime⊠more of you time for him.
You let out a quiet giggle as your brought up the forked scrambled eggs to his lips, and he leaned in, planting his big hand on your knee to âstabilizeâ himself before he took the bite. He swallowed before yawning, âalways cook so good, mama.â
Biting back a shit eating grin, you hold up his chin, your thumb rubbing his warm skin. Michael immediately leaned into your palm, even closing his eyes, relishing your sweet loving. âThank you, sleepyhead.â
(đđ+) ââââ notes: childhoodbsf!popstar!reader â± see đđ đđđđđ. heavy breeding kink â description of sex across multiple days around ovulation â so much cum â michael loves to watch his release leak out of u, and heâll eat it too!
To say that you were planning to 'try' for a baby seemed like poor wording for a couple who never needed to deliberately attempt to trigger conception. That risk followed you around almost every time you had sex, and miraculously, you'd so far succeeded in never accidentally getting pregnant. There was that one scare though, which you preferred to pretend didn't happen, because it had led to a very embarrassing ordeal with Katherine Jackson.
So with how often you recklessly had unprotected sex, you most definitely didn't need to plan to make your baby. A few nights of mindless insemination would do the trick, but Michael wanted the night you conceived your child to be very special. Or the multiple nights, rather, because you obviously couldn't be certain which night would be the night.
And so, for the entire week around the time of ovulation that month, Michael treated every night with the same grace and thoughtful purpose. He had finally moved out of Hayvenhurst two months ago when you married, so now you had a huge house all to yourselves. He dimmed the lights, lit up the bed with candles, then made sweet love to you in the most heart-achingly slow way, always having one hand interlaced with yours, and the other cradling your jaw. For that whole week, every single night was spent in the same routine, with your husband rocking into you aside warm candlelight and the mingled scent of flowers and sex. Each of those nights you went at it for hours at a time, between missionary, prone bone, mating press, cow girl and reverse...
But Michael refused to do anything with you that he deemed as on the 'dirtier' side while you were babymaking, because he felt those methods of sexuality didn't align with the evening's intention. He wouldn't give you backshots, nor would he let you give him oral, or do anything on your knees. He wouldn't talk dirtyâhe'd speak only praise, although that's what he did most of the time anyway. And in cowgirl, he hardly even let you bounceâinstead planting his feet on the bed and pounding you from underneath, running his hands all up and down your body.
Michael was masculine in a very specific way. To describe him as a soft dom would be putting it too simply, for he was much more complex with the way he loved on a lady in bed. Since he lost his virginity to you in '78, he grew to believe that making love to his goddess was the single most precious thing in life, that he should give her absolutely everything, put her pleasure above all else, and treasure her until the end of the earth. He was inherently soft-natured and gentle, what one may deem submissive in that sense, but such would be an incorrect statement to make regarding Michael Jackson, because while Michael could definitely lean into submission if he wanted to (often he did so in his post-sex haze), his dominance lay in the mode of admiration he displayed during your sexual encounters. He almost always took the lead, and was so naturally talented with his hips. You never had a single night of dissatisfaction.
Throughout those ovulatory evenings, missionary was your go-to, because it felt the most intimate. Chests pressed against each other, your limbs locked around his torso, and Michael's thrusts were beautifully slow and deep; almost too slow at times, because he was treating your fertile body like a sacred object. He always did, except now he'd taken that sacred care to a whole other level, where you were in the arms of a man who adored you so much that he felt he had to pay close attention to every single aching inch of your walls with each stroke. While you made your very first baby, the most important thing to Michael was that he deeply took in and appreciated your inner angelic ambience. Since he was a boy he'd dreamed of the day he would start making his own family, free of Joseph's constraints, and he never believed it would be with the girl he then went on to spend years 'platonically' cuddling and playfighting with. Now he was here, at the grown age of twenty-two, nestled deep inside that same girl, whispering in her ear everything he loved about her. Tender love and careâthat's all you deserved. Michael would happily spend a lifetime in a never-ending process of continual conception, because nothing had ever been more intimate.
The first night you began trying, it had honestly felt like you'd lost your virginity all over again. You giggled like shy teenagers as he first pushed in, smooching all over your face while you tugged at his hair playfully.
"Mikey, I can't believe we're really doin' this..." you sighed in half-nervous, half-excited anticipation.
"I know, I feel like 'm in heaven, baby..." Michael moaned, stroking your face as he bottomed out. You gasped and squeezed his hand that he'd already met with yours.
"But remember," he added, "if you change your mind at any point, 'n decide y' not ready, that's perfectly okay. Just tell me."
You nodded, kissing his nose. "No, I really think I'm ready. Wow," you took a deep breath, "this is really happening."
"It is really happenin', angel." As he said the words aloud, Michael had smiled so wide it made your heart ache.
Sometimes in that week you had to actually plead with him to go faster, because while you were perfectly satisfied with the slow strokes, you didn't always need him to be so gentle with you. And of course you were ovulatingâwhich was the whole pointâso you had primal urges that needed to be satiated.
"No, honey, I wanna keep takin' it slow... Need to really feel ya..." Michael hummed into your neck as he sucked there, rolling his hips with precision, tip nudging your sweet spot perfectly each time.
"Sweetheart, we've been at this for two hours already," you laughed. "You've made me cum three times. I think we can say you've treated me with more than enough care tonightânow I just really need you to go faster. Please, baby."
Michael giggled, now pressing wet kisses over your breasts, around your areolas. "Okay, fine."
Every time he came inside you, he'd instruct you to lie on your back for ten minutes, then he'd lay with you and cuddle while his warm seed still explored your walls. He'd suck on your breasts, play with your hair, sing whimsically under his breath, talk to you about the most random topics on his mindâdoing enough for the duration of what he believed was enough time passed for his cum to really reach enough depth. You told him that all of that was probably mythologicalâthat there was more likely no ritual that actually aided fertilisation. Luck was all you needed, and the sheer number of times Michael had spilled himself into you that week had to have been enough without the alleged pregnancy hacks in between that he insisted on adhering to. But of course he continued to insist.
"Darlin', if y' lay on your back it gives the sperm an uninterrupted path upward. We don't want any slippin' out."
"Whatever, baby," you'd chuckle, heart racing at how obsessed he was with filling you up now that there were no negative consequences. You'd never seen him act so wild before, and he was unironically treating this process as a full time job. Never had he given such focus toward anything outside of the recording studio.
Whenever you laid on your back after a round, obliging with his orders, he'd rest forward on his elbows and examine your soaked pussy like a damn gynecologist. He'd rub his thumb just slightly over your entrance, noticing the way you hissed at the feeling, but without his usual primary intention of making you feel goodârather, he was just genuinely intrigued, and insanely captivated by his breeding endeavours. For those ten minutes you laid there, he'd rest on your thighs, breathing in the scent of your post-sex core, the mixed flavour of his release and yours. You'd stroke through his curls, always ending up smacking his head lightly whenever he lost sight of what he was doing and accidentally started playing with your overly-sensitive clit.
"Nuh-uh," you scolded, with a playful whack to his head. "Wait."
He'd always roll his eyes in frustration, but do as he was told. "Mama, y' not gonna make me lie here without lettin' me touch."
"Michael, you've been touchin' me nonstop. Take a break, honey. Matter of fact, give my pussy a break."
A heart-warmingly genuine laugh came from his throat.
"And," you continued, so amused, "you're telling me I made you lie here when it's you who told me that I have to?"
Michael ignored that, pressing a kiss to your thigh before sitting up on his knees and crawling up to the top of the bed to be beside you.
Once the remaining minutes were over, he eagerly dipped back down to his favourite place, instructing you to lift your hips so that his pearly, sticky release would drip out. It slowly formed a damp stain on the pillow he'd put beneath you, and he watched in awe as the liquid flowed like a filthy river from your sex.
Using two fingers, he dragged the salty filth up and down your slit, circling around your hole before drenching your sensitive flesh. Despite how vocal he always was, he mostly did this part wordlessly, too focused to say anything; and each time, you watched in complete disbelief at how he never grew tired of enacting this same activity. To Michael, smearing his thick cum all over the part of your body that would give his baby life was the most lewdly precious activity, and in the moments where you weren't way too sensitive, he'd lean in after his examination, licking up the sloppy mixture.
"Just wonderful, honey..." his soft voice would murmur against your swollen bud.
On one night that week, you were both attending an award show, and following the ceremony you skipped the afterparty altogetherâto your friends' confusionâbecause despite how incredibly sexually active you'd already been that week, you both couldn't wait to rush home and make love some more. The outside world was secondary to the inner sanctuary you shared, and especially in the most important week of all. You'd initially suggested to Michael that you could both attend the afterparty but have sex in a bathroom or another locked roomâor that you could stay out for a while and then later go home to have sexâbut your husband didn't enjoy the prospect of either idea. Yes, it was night four, where you'd already spent hours per night in the bed that despite its luxury was so close to breaking, and yes, he'd hoisted you up against the shower wall that morning and given it to you twice, but in Michael's eyes, those sessions were no reason to disrupt what he had planned.
During your fertile period, he had firmly decided that the evening into late night was for lovemaking, no matter what outdoor activities were on offer. And you couldn't complain that he was so specific about that self-determined rule. What better excuse to have sex with your man all night long for a week straight than for the purpose of conceiving your first baby?
Michael was so excited to meet his unborn child. Outside of the hours he spent buried inside you, he couldn't stop talking about your future babyâand by extension, the babies plural, that would later follow. You would laugh at him when he'd go too far into the future, reminding him to stay in the present and not get too ahead of himself, but when he said yet again that he wished for eighteen childrenâalmost double the number his parents had producedâyou obviously weren't on board in the slightest.
"Michael," you chuckled, laid in the crook of his bare neck as you drew circles just above his nipple. "You better shut the hell up about this eighteen kids thing. 'm serious, don't talk about that shit with me." You were serious, but you continued to laugh because he was just so ridiculous, never looking at life situations logically.
"Honey, 'm sorry, I just want so many." He smiled bashfully, pulling your naked body closer into him.
"Oh, I can see that." You raised your brows in amusement.
"We've got a huge houseâI just wanna fill it w' so many beautiful children."
"And that would be amazing, baby, except I don't think my vagina would be very happy."
Suddenly Michael froze at the realisation of his accidental bordering on typical male coercion, although you knew that's not at all what he meant. He just hadn't thought it through properly, lost in the heartwarming image of two football teams' worth of kids running around with him.
"Ohâyeah, that's um, really bad of me, 'm sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't thinkin' of it that way."
"Mikey," you laughed, "I don't think my pussy has been out of your mind for five days straightâand now you're tellin' me you forgot about that part of childbirth altogether?"
He chuckled shyly, shaking his head, then shuffled a little downward to face you properly. You squeezed his cheek and ruffled his hair.
But there was another thing your newly-wed husband couldn't stop obsessing overâand that was the prospect of what you'd grow to look like while pregnant. How your curves would swell, how you'd look fuller in all the places he already cherished most. And the thought of your breasts working through hormonal shifts to create milk for his baby... he felt as though he might go insane at the first sight of that image. He hoped you wouldn't think he was strange for wanting a taste.
And oh, you couldn't have been even slightly prepared for how insatiable he'd be. If you thought your husband was addicted to you now, just wait until you were heavily pregnant, all sexy and swollen with his child...
đœđ»(đźđȘđœ) đđžđŸ đ«đźđœđœđźđ» - michael jackson x black female reader
synopsis: michael's been wayyyy too busy to spend time with his childhood best friend and now you have a boyfriend. it's time to take matters into his own mouth hands.
tropes & warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI â smut (we all know what we're here for), pwp, thriller era, baby eater!michael, fingering, oral (f receiving), mentions of male masturbation, switch!michael, slightly ooc!michael, black female!reader, sub!reader, messy!michael in the best way, praise kink galore, detailed female anatomy descriptions, female worship, teasing, overstimulation, slight implications of edging, toxic relationship, cheating if you squint but it's okay because michael told me to tell you that your boyfriend sucks, religious corruption if you squint harder
wc: 6.1ish (had to get my head back in the mf GAME okay?! a true yapper)
an: first things first - I loveeee me some secret mutual pining! that's how this grew legs and ended up being 6000 words lmfao. also - in this house, michael was an eater long before bad and that's a hill i'll die on! look at the material! after an almost five year hiatus I done picked up my pen chile, so thank you for reading in advance. enjoy!
You were trying to be mindful of your body language knowing there was an audience, but you couldn't help but fidget and anxiously spin the spiral phone cord around your fingers. You were in one of your favorite places in the world - one that held warm memories of meals, joy and shared life experiences with your inherited family. Being at Hayvenhurst often made you wish you were an oblivious, innocent kid again running around with your best friend who was patiently standing on the other side of the counter. The space was uncharacteristically empty aside from you both⊠his head was resting on one of his fists, doe-like eyes on you as he indulged himself in some homemade honey vanilla ice cream.Â
You mouthed give me a moment, he nodded in reply. Who knew a simple check-in call could have this much potential to sour your mood on an otherwise very peaceful evening.Â
But here you were, an adult woman free to do whatever you pleased, begrudgingly arguing with a man with too much audacity on the other line.
âCarl, seriously?â You leaned against the wall, sucking your teeth into the receiver wedged between your head and shoulders.
In your opinion, you didnât understand what was so strange about having a movie night with your childhood best friend. Carl went on and on, matter-of-factly pointing out that your best friend was a celebrity and how it didnât make sense why you had to spend time with him instead of your boyfriend.
âYouâre overreacting. I already told you itâs not like that.â You casually added, which seemed to rile him up even more. So much so you couldnât get a word in.
You were on the verge of losing your temper and patience altogether.
Michaelâs brow perked up slightly at your irritation, helping himself to his favorite frozen treat customized specifically to his liking. He really didn't like what he was picking up on. The tension of your phone call was palpable, and it unsettled him.Â
Carl.Â
Hearing his name leave your lips made his favorite ice cream a little less sweet. The cinnamon dusted on top might as well have been mixed with dirt. Hearing his name was like an out-of-tune horn his ears rejected every time he heard it playing. Any mention of him from you was rare⊠but still shrill, off-kilter, punching violently through the recesses of his mind. He never hated anyone ever in his life but this had to be close⊠Not to mention, the affection in your tone irked him if he could be honest, like having one of his performances cut short before it truly hit a groove. Out of place and unwanted... especially in his place of solace.
Man, he wished you'd just hang up.Â
All he wanted was to make you laugh, call him Mikey, offer his comfort, his time, attention. Make you forget Carl.Â
And then there was another part of Michael - driven by an ego you would label as slightly conflated if you saw more of it in action. Birthed by independence manifesting for him on the horizon, handcrafted by waves of women (and men) packed together at shows like sardines screaming his name when he sang or spun or just smiled, and vindicated by crotch-grabbing and moonwalking into more of a public phenomena on the Motown stage just a few months ago. It was hard not to be altered by such life-altering fame. Since young, he watched people of all ages and colors literally stop traffic and swarm around cars with him inside⊠banging their fists against it just for a glimpse of him. Thousands of eyes instantly welled up with tears if they caught that glimpse, even if it was just the tips of his fingers shyly waving out the back window of the car as it sped off. The man who stood next to one of the greatest producers when the world was quiet and created magic. The part he armored himself with for public consumption. One who knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of.
That part of him smirked behind his spoon, confidence silent but strong enough to override the jealousy bubbling in chest.Â
He could put two and two together. Your body language alone told an interesting story - the way you refused to look at him while trying to reassure your boyfriend, Carl, even with the hole he was burning in your face. The way your deliciously proportioned weight shifted under his stare, from one hip to the other, one leg to the other, repeat. The way you angled away as you spoke, biting down on your lip at times to censor yourself. All of this was evidence that led him to conclude that your boyfriend, Carl, was not happy about the fact that you were here.Â
Oh well.
Michael was ecstatic. You looked so pretty today.Â
He found himself thinking that about you quite often, lately⊠as he haphazardly scribbled those kinda secret thoughts and other kinda secret feelings into blueprints that would eventually become lyrics. Stealing moments on studio breaks to call you inspired him in so many ways, but also made him feel a pang in his chest that was becoming a lot harder to ignore. Afterwards, heâd find himself humming melodies that seemed to flow straight from beyond, mirroring and transmuting those longing feelings. And heâd do with these melodies what he did best. He recorded them. Demo after demo, those recordings turned into full songs, songs that held very important kinda secrets about his feelings for you.Â
His voice came out sweeter then, emoting more than he ever did before. Quincy would knowingly tease: âYou singinâ like thereâs someone on your mind, Smelly.â
All Michael could do was bite his lip and smile, shaking his head as he laughed him off.Â
He felt guilty spending most of his time on his music these days. Since Motown - between rehearsals for the next tour and recording for his next album, heightened demand with limited time created unwanted distance. It was the main obstacle in the way of carving out chances for you both to spend time together like when you were younger.
So he intentionally cleared his schedule for tonight. Bought snacks, had Bill take him over to the Wherehouse to pick out a bunch of your favorite movies in hopes to talk to you about his absence and make it up to you. When he called to ask you to come over⊠he half-expected you to tell him off, knowing he hadnât been the best at balancing things. He was grateful you didnât, understanding.
And when you showed up at his door looking exactly like his muse should, it kinda felt like the world was in technicolor again.
The first thing he noticed was your hair. It was big and curly and it looked extra, extra soft. Michael loved when you wore it that way, his hand often twitched at the thought of holding you close and twisting some of the coils around his fingers. He welcomed the comforting scent of mandarins and honey when he hugged you hello, tucking you under his chin in affection. Hearing the smile in your voice as you said hey Mikey into his red cardigan made him too happy to worry about if you could hear how hard his heart was beating.
He knew heâd have to repent for how he didnât even bother diverting his eyes from the swish swish swish of your denim skirt as you pulled away, walking deeper into his home. The familiar tightening in his jeans that he wouldnât be able to hide was a sobering enough feeling to halt his thoughts from going further. Trying to distract himself, he almost missed when you asked him to use the kitchen phone to call your boyfriend.
Oh. Had he really been gone that long?
He noticed you gnawing at your bottom lip in annoyance. Your soft lips, accented with a tinted gloss. He had to exercise more serious mental restraint from getting worked up again as he wondered what your kisses tasted like. Surely sweeter than ice cream.
âI let you talk, so itâs time for you to listen and stop interrupting me. No, I wonât stand for it and Iâm not gonna keep going on like this with you anymore⊠Iâm done talking about it. Iâm staying here tonight. If you donât like it - oh well.â
As if you both merged into the same wavelength, you abruptly slammed the phone into the mounted receiver so hard that you swear you heard it crack. You had enough.
âI - sorry, MichaelâŠâ His eyes apologetically softened at you and it ignited both shyness and shame in your chest. You shifted uncomfortably under his observation. All the work youâd done up until that point to keep everyone out of your salvaged threads of a relationship - now ruined with one untimely call.
âWhat you apologizinâ for, girl?â
âMighta broke that.â you started, motioning to the receiver hanging on the wall, making a mental note to check if the phone was actually broken later. âShoulda never called him. This was supposed to be our time to catch up and now my good mood has gone all sour.â
âDonât you worry about that phone. Dunk smashed Randyâs big olâ giant rockhead into it plenty and it still work.â Michael comforted you, chuckling at the fond memory of his siblings. His feet led himself next to you without a second thought, gently rubbing your back. âDâyou wanâ talk about it?â
Leaning your head against his shoulder, you felt his long, sinewy fingers against your forehead moving your curls to plant a consoling kiss there.
âDonât even know âem and he turninâ out to be a real schmuck. Câmon, letâs go upstairs so we can talk.â
âIâm just so frustrated, Mikey!â You said, plopping down on the edge of his bed. The change in environment seemed to turn your emotional state towards the better and you wonder if he knew it would all along.
Michaelâs mind instinctively reacted to you being in his space. As much as he knew he shouldnât think this way, he couldnât help it. You looked so good in his bed. It was embarrassing to think about how many times heâd allow himself to imagine you just like this: lights dim, you staring up at him through your dark lashline, full lips parted anxiously, waiting for him to talk, or move closer, shoes off, knees together...Â
The circumstances of these fantasies would be different of course, but they always ended with him losing control. The thought of touching you, tasting you, pleasing you⊠aroused him beyond belief. More lust to repent. And sometimes faith and morality would quell his ongoing battle with these fleshly desires like a beacon of light, motivating him enough to get up at the dead of night and get dressed to record in his studio. But he was a man⊠and when he found himself rutting against the bed in his sleep thinking about the swell of your breasts, the unscrupulous promises of pleasure would wake him up in a sweat. And those promises would whisper to him the dark and keep him up, prisoner, until he gave in.Â
He groaned through gritted teeth as his hands hesitantly descended down his body from under his t-shirt, imagining they were yoursâŠ. Soft, warm⊠nails accented with whatever colorful lacquer you picked for the week. He could almost feel you dragging them down his chest, rubbing affectionately through his happy trail. So close⊠By the time he touched his dick, the gravity of his actions reflected in the weight of it in his hands. Flashes of you played behind his eyelids, especially of what your face would look like contorted in pleasure. His imagination would have him throbbing angrily against his belly, strings of precum leaking from the tip, squirming and waiting for release.
Shit.
He moved across the room to his tape player to create some distance while pushing down those thoughts, picking something to play. He was at a crossroads. Chewing his bottom lip, he knew he wanted to be empatheticâŠbut wanted to satisfy his curiosity about whatâd you been up to. He decided to keep things casual and collect some information first.
âIs he always like that? Surprised he didnât blow the sound out with all that yellinâ.â
Meanwhile, you smoothed your hands down the pleats of your jean skirt, choosing to do that instead of meeting his stare. Truth was, if Michaelâs eyes searched yours long enough it would be just like taking a big gulp of truth serum. You were bound to crack and tell him everything.
âNot at first⊠but things have been changing for the worst, lately. I seemed to really upset him today.â
âAnd why is that?â
âIâm not sure. Heâs just⊠worried? I guessâŠ.â
Sure, in the beginning - Carl was charming, good-looking⊠you were on the market, a very single and very beautiful woman looking for companionship to fill a Michael-shaped void in your life. He seemed to be looking for someone, too. Matchmaking at an industry mixer seemed to hit it off.Â
When things were good, they were good - it was exciting going on dates and being in his company. He was really generous with his time and money he made as a club promoter, making you feel like you were really the girl for him. However, a couple months had passed and his actions revealed that he saw you as someone he could parade around the city and show off like that was the only thing you were good for. There were times where he would lose his patience with you and say mean things, withhold affection, and discourage you from things that made you happy. It was almost like he didnât want you to smile about anything else but him. He didnât like the way you dressed (You not goinâ nowhere with me like that⊠I wanna have sumn sexy on my arm tonight, tootsâŠ), he didnât like your hobbies (Wastinâ time fingerpaintinâ when you should be cominâ to this party with me instead), and he didnât like your friends (I ainât jealous of a man who wear glitter and rhinestones, baby, besides⊠you donât need no more friends). His snide comments caused a lot of arguments. Youâd threaten to leave and heâd sweet-talk you, promising changed behavior. Things would smooth over, rinse and repeat. If you could be honest, you were at the end of your rope with it all.Â
He wanted to control you and you felt trapped in a cycle of his insecurities. You wouldnât be submissive to just any man.
You felt the bed dip next to you. Michael sat and grabbed your hands, the warmth of his thumbs sweeping back and forth across your knuckles was a welcomed sensation that grounded you. Ironically, touching you in this more intimate way made Michael feel a bit out of body but he kept his nerve. He decided to ignore the warning signs, ignore the fluttering in his ribcage.
âYouâre a beautiful girl, inside and out⊠so sensational, intelligent, creative, empathetic, and very special to me. And any man standinâ next to you should admire you, treat you preciously, and with respect. He should be worried.â
There was a rawness in his voice.
Youâve heard it before. When he created music, danced, laughed with his loved ones⊠when he discussed plans to heal the planet, shared goals to create sanctuaries for children and animals, defended his stance to anyone who would listen about his favorite ice cream. All you could do was look into his eyes, selfishly admiring the wonderment inside before you until you felt too caught up⊠laughing it off to save face.Â
âMikey, whenâd you learn to sweet talk a lady like that?â Your face was burning and he could tell.
âHey, itâs the truth.â Michael smirked, mischievously tilting his head at your reaction before stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers. âHmm... you gettinâ shy on me, pretty girl? I say somethinâ wrong?âÂ
He should be worried.
His voice echoed around in your head in whispers.
He should be worried.
âWhatâd you mean?â You asked, mind not even registering that your mouth was moving.
âPardon?â
ââHe should be worried.â What do you mean by that?â
Michael shrugged, leaning back so that he was propped up on one of his hands. âHe should, thatâs all.â
âI donât understand.â
ââCause you here with me, right where you should.â The certainty in his voice stirred something inside you, different from any tone heâd ever used with you in the past. And in that moment, you really looked at him.
There werenât too many lights on in his room but there didnât need to be for you to see him. It was always like that. Even if he tried to hide he was always the brightest thing in every room. You sometimes got lost noticing things, things that you forced yourself to pretend to not to notice every time you noticed them. The way his legs splayed out as he sat, open wide. Tonight, it felt like an invitation⊠fingers expertly tapping his muscular thighs along to the music playing in the background. The medium-wash denim underneath his palms was tailored to a perfect fit, doing an amazing job of accentuating his slim waist and hips and wide shoulders. He almost looked unreal, doll-like, growing out of his childlike gangliness to a modelesque physique that hinted subtle strength.Â
When you hugged him, you tried not to notice how his broad shoulders flexed under your palms. They were wider these days, strengthened by carrying his world for so long⊠You hugged and his arms were almost long enough to wrap around you twice, gripping you tightly and making you feel safe and surrounded by the comforting scent of amber, lemon and cedar. You wanted to touch his chest, feel if his heart was racing just as fast as yours. Admire the expanse of his muscles through the cardigan he was wearing under your palms. But you stayed still, not trusting yourself to make any sudden movements.Â
Watching Motown sparked flames you'd been fighting for what seemed like your entire life. Opened your eyes wider than theyâd been in years. God, the way he sounded, the way his body translated his innate divinity. He was hungry with need - determined to stir something in others, to prove himself. Michaelâs energy was raw and uninhabited during the performance, but yet still maintained his razor-like focus and precision as he danced.Â
Especially the way he moved his hips. You tried not to notice how those movements seemed to come natural to him.
Michaelâs head was tilted with a curious expression, like he was considering saying more⊠even if it came at a cost. A couple of juicy curls fell into his eyes, exaggerated by his shorter, more defined hairstyle. Your angelface was losing the last of his boyish features (minus that heart-stopping smile), being replaced with angled lines - masculine, sharp, like his jawline would cut if your lips were to brush too closeâŠÂ
Then his mouth parted and it felt like the world was moving in half speed. Watching him lick his lips made you subtly shift, suddenly very aware that you were a woman sitting on a bed with a man next to you.
You both locked eyes.Â
Michaelâs brown eyes were one of the many strikingly beautiful things about him. They sparkled with whimsy and torment all at once, an amalgamation of secrets he thought heâd never speak out loud to anyone. Untold until he met you.Â
This particular look whispered something entirely different than any secrets you know. Eyelids low, his wispy lashes framed the deep-seated desire you felt smoldering his stare. It created an invisible force field around the two of you. The heat behind his eyes made your stomach flip with want.Â
âYeah,â he began, keeping them on you, âhe should know his time ran out.â
Your breath hitched as Michael took the lead, turning to lean into your personal space. God, he was so close⊠one of his hands found your waist, pressing you closer while the other took its time, rubbing up the expanse of your neck until finding your jaw.
âYâfeel that?â
You nodded, keeping your eye contact. Gravity shifted. Your entire being screamed for you to move closer, to close the gap and explore the unknown territory of his mouth with your own⊠but you fought that urge a little bit longer to enjoy the feelings of mutual longing you missed⊠ones that left your nerve endings tingling and craving touch. Michael shook his head slowly, not satisfied, thumb tracing your bottom lip.
âI need to hear you say it, mama.â
âY-yes, I feel it.â
âThat's right.â
Michael was intoxicated⊠he watched your eyes flutter down to his lips in anticipation. He could get used to you looking at him like he had the whole world in his hands because he felt like he did too, especially with the heated skin of your waist under his fingertips. Waiting to kiss you any longer wouldâve been an unnecessary crime, so he didnât wait. As soon as your mouth met his, he decided at that moment it was a crime he didnât plan on committing ever again in his life.Â
That pang of longing in his chest was being cured by his bold declaration, and the willingness expressed in your lips answered one of his most selfish prayers.
God, your mouth was so sweet.Â
Your gloss tasted like a syrupy summer strawberry he handpicked himself⊠lips just as full and juicy as the fruit. It was better than anything he ever imagined writing in his notebooks, any run or riff he ever sung, spin he ever spun. Better than anything he visualized in bed, stroking himself to intense climaxes that made him tremble and shudder roughly until he saw spots under his eyelids. Better than honey vanilla ice cream. He couldnât help the groan rumbling in his chest, jeans already beginning to tighten around his lap as he took his time and savored your mouth. Michael helped himself now that he had you where he wanted you, tilting his head just enough to indulgently suck the delicious candy coating off your lips one by one.
Your moans only encouraged his ministrations even more.
You couldnât believe you had gone this far, this long in life without kissing him. Fuck, there was so much want blooming inside you as the kiss intensified, getting to the point where your lips barely bothered to separate. His mouth moved intentionally, expressive of his desire, special and just for you, making you blush and sigh and rub your legs together underneath him, unable to resist creating some subtle friction between your legs. You wanted him to touch you, like really touch you⊠So instead of saying that, you slid his rather large hand from the side of your waist down to your bare thigh. Michael smirked against your mouth as he hovered over the side of you closest to him, welcoming new territory by gripping your heated flesh between his adept fingers.Â
Mm, he was gasoline and you were a brushfire⊠He pulled back a little, teasing you. His throat bobbed as he sweetly kissed the side of your mouth.
âWe gonna get rid of him tonight right, pretty? Ready to call him back and tell him?â
At this point you were clay, pupils blown, lips swollen. Anxious to be molded. Youâd do anything.
Sensing your compliance, Michael leaned over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, sitting it on the opposite side of you as he knelt in front of your legs.
âCall him.âÂ
You bit your lip, hesitant at first until a soft kiss was planted against your ear.
âIâm waitinâ, mama. Donât you want me to touch you?â
His words were emphasized by the feeling of fingertips just barely grazing your knee, giving you goosebumps. You and Michael both watched as he laid his hand ceremoniously flat, starting a painfully slow creep up up up⊠thumb tracing teasing circles on your inner thigh from underneath your skirt.
Panting, your lungs burned momentarily in anticipation.
âMikey,â you warned, looking over to see his lip between his teeth trying to hide his mischievous expression.
âYes, pretty girl? Already sounding so needy fâme⊠I mean it. I donât appreciate the way he treated you today. Letâs tell him itâs over.â
Against better judgement, you picked up the phone and dialed Carlâs number. Honestly, you couldnât tell if the ringing you were hearing was coming from inside your eardrums or the speaker. God, it was so hard to concentrate on holding the phone steady with Michael rubbing on you and peppering whisper-soft kisses on your neck.Â
Carl answered and you did your best to keep yourself composed.
â..Hello⊠hey, yes, itâs meâŠâ
Michael moved closer, spreading your legs wider to give himself room to explore. He couldnât believe this was happening, couldnât fathom the softness of your skin⊠Why did he wait so long to touch you like this? He loved your curvy legs, and the sight of your trembling thighs reminded him of things he only dreamed of. God, he wanted to feel more of you, get lost in you, every inch, all overâŠÂ
His eyes widened in surprise when his fingers were invited by the heat between your legs. Upon further inspection and an eager swipe of his thumb, he discovered the seat of your panties were already sticky.
Your legs pitifully twitched at the contact, hips squirming forward into his hand.
âFocus, pretty, or Iâll stop. Tell him why you callinâ back so late.â Michael whispered in your ear, shifting your top over with one hand to plant an affectionate kiss on your shoulder while the other moved the damp lace out of his way, exposing you to him. Yeah, you felt exposed and mostly embarrassed by how worked up you were at this whole thing. But most importantly of all, you were unbelievably horny and ready for him to touch you.
âI-I canât do this anymore.â
Michael smirked, nodding in encouragement for you to continue. It was hard not to get lost in gratitude, cherishing the way youâd fully relinquished control to him. He teased you long enough. His thumb dipped into your spongy folds, generously coating your clit in your own juices. Meticulously he experimented, testing out different patterns and intensities of pleasure as your eyes fluttered closed.
His dick was impossibly hard now, straining in his jeans.
But nothing was more important than how slick and flushed your pussy felt around his fingers. He noticed everything, his senses heightened by the smell of your pheromones in the air and the sounds of your choppy breathing as he took you higher. He noticed the exact moment he found the winning combo that made your thighs quiver. Index and middle forming a V around the bundle of nerves, he created more pressure and friction and your breath caught. He revered in the sight of you squirming at the new sensation, throbbing and desperately pulling at sheets under you with your free hand. Nothing was more important than this performance right there in his bedroom.Â
You stifled another moan by putting a hand over your mouth before it was too late.
Unsurprisingly, Carl was oblivious and completely furious. His tone was accusatory and downright disrespectful as he expressed the vindication he felt about disliking Michael, now proven by you calling him with such finality.
Little did he know he had a bigger reason to be mad.
âThatâs right baby, I knowâŠÂ my pretty girlâs so slick down here. Keep goinâ⊠tell him he sucks.â Having Michael in your ear⊠saying things like that drove you crazy. God, the mix of praise, affection, and direct commands in his soft voice made your walls angrily clench around nothing. Speaking of, your free hand guided his fingers further down. You didnât care that your now ex-boyfriend was on the phone yelling your name to get your attention, or care to wait anymore. Your eagerness was enough to sway Michael until he obliged, sliding them inside.
âHere? You want me to touch you right here, mama?â You nodded, sighing as you felt the beginnings of relief from the tension building in your lower belly. His fingers felt like heaven as they curled upwards inside you.
âThen you gotta keep talkinâ for me.â
So you did. âCarl, you really suckâŠâ
You told Carl how much you absolutely hated his guts. Told him about how stupid he looked in those fake designer suits he wore on nightclub grand openings. How dare he try to tell you what to wear. You told him that youâd no longer accept suggestions or criticism from a man that threw temper tantrums like a child. Told him he was insecure and that would no longer be your problem, that he needed to figure his own shit out⊠away from you.Â
And while you unloaded all the thoughts youâd thought and never said to keep any semblance of peace, Michaelâs long fingers eagerly pumped in and out of you.Â
Your mouth dropped in shock as he abruptly stopped, pulling his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. The blissed out look on his face was enough to make you want to explode into a thousand sparkly pieces.
âMmm, like I thought⊠you donât know how bad I wanna taste you, pretty.â Before you could recover, you felt your panties sliding off your legs. His head lowered between them, gripping the backs of your thighs as he spread you wider.Â
There was a look of reverence on Michaelâs face as he stared at your pussy for the first time.
Your outer lips were puffy and covered in slick, drooling in anticipation as your labia instinctively bloomed for him. He buried his nose into the neat little tuft of dark curls on your mound first and inhaled, cursing under his breath as he declared you the prettiest flower heâd ever seen, losing the last of any restraint he had. God, he knew by how you tasted on his fingers that once he started he wouldnât be able to stop.
He loved women. Their femininity, their spirit, their softness and soul⊠inspiring him so much. So naturally, he enjoyed eating pussy. The feel of it, the earthy taste was addicting to him from the moment he was invited to try with a lovely older woman on tour some years ago. It was a whole new world, he was very attracted to her assertiveness⊠she only wanted a purely physical relationship. It shocked him at first until it intrigued him enough to agree to it. Sheâd travel to every city, discreetly meeting in his hotel rooms with sunglasses on and nice dresses, nipples visibly hard against the fabric. Heâd kneel down on the carpet and sheâd prop her leg up on his shoulder, nothing underneath. Grabbed his hands, guided them to him to squeeze her flesh under his palms, touch places she wanted him to touch, taught him how to be patient as he pleased a woman. He was mesmerized. This happened for some time until she felt her purpose was served, sensing his feelings growing. He was heartbroken. Grateful for what she left him with, experiences and a savantâs thirst for knowledge. He took to his own studies, memorizing and learning womenâs anatomy in biology almanacs and books written by women about sex and became an expert at providing pinnacles of pleasure, never to be outdone.
But this was more than that. His heart physically ached knowing there was a person in your life who didnât value someone who he felt was so precious. He wanted to show you just how much you and this moment meant to him. Heâd whispered soft, but honest claims against your skin tonight and now he was ready to seal them with a special kiss.
Drunk with pussy lust, his mouth enclosed around your entire pussy and he sucked, oh my God⊠you wanted to climb up the wall. Your legs desperately shook, heart stalling in your chest. He moaned into your flesh and instantly you were breathless, frowning at the feeling that you bit off more than you could chew. His eyes were bright behind tendrils of curls as he watched you respond to pure, irrevocable pleasure. When he felt your legs attempting to close, he shook his head firmly against your heated skin, still attached to you as his hands slid under your ass to firmly hold you in place. The sudden intensity made your head snap down, moaning with your mouth open as your eyes met. There would be none of that. He wanted you right there submitting to whatever he had to give you until he decided you were done. Your slickness was already beginning to coat the bottom half of his face. He wanted to savor this, committing your sublime taste to memory as mouth made the most vulgar soundsâŠÂ
God, you were sure Carl could hear how loud Michael was licking and sucking at your clit. Boy, he was a noisy eater. It was something about how passionate he ate you, the sounds of him moaning and grunting in worship, sucking, lapping, devouring.
âTell him how good it feels. Tell him how Iâm takinâ good care of you.â Michael mumbled, mouth full.Â
âIt feels so good - fuck - Michael, pleaseee.â
âMmm, yes pretty? So polite⊠Iâll do anything you want, just tell me⊠mmm you taste unreal. So good, so perfect on my tongue.â
âM-more, please, your fingers -â He meant what he said. As soon as your pleas sounded his middle and index finger found their way inside you again, making your back bow. The way they fluidly slid up against your engorged sweet spot over and over sent shocks throughout your entire body.
He pressed his lips to your thigh.
âCarl should keep listeninâ to how happy Iâm makinâ you, huh mama? Maybe he could learn somethinâ hearinâ me treat you betterâŠâ
You didnât get a chance to reply with anything intelligible at first. Michaelâs eager mouth was on you again like he was starving and desperately missed your taste. The phone unceremoniously fell against the bed and you went feral, holding his head as your hips lifted.
He felt the walls of your pussy start to clench, signaling him to keep his mouth and fingers steady, ready to reward your obedience with the first of many orgasms he had planned for you tonight. You were making the most beautiful sounds, hoarsely moaning his name, begging him not to stop, whining, but most importantly - not caring if Carl was still listening on the other line.Â
âYes baby, thatâs it - unh, pleaseeeeâŠâ
The tension in your lower belly finally snapped, turning into waves of pleasure so euphoric that they began in your mind and spread - manifesting into your unstable body, making you roughly tremble in release. He didnât stop pulsating his lips around your engorged clit. In fact, he repeatedly moaned - those vibrations coupled with the way his tongue moved so fast barely gave you any time to process what was happening as you gripped his hair and rutted into his mouth.Â
Shit.
His fingers incessantly stroked your g-spot until you quite literally broke, sobbing as viscous juices trickled down his face and wrist until it pooled on the bed under you. You were in what had to be your own special version of heaven, hot tears running down your face.
And he was glad to do it. Grateful, even.Â
God, Michael could cum himself from what he beared witness to, finding himself rutting against the edge of the bed in response to your obvious overstimulation. Mmm, he was so grateful knowing that you desired being pleased by him, being pushed to limits you hadnât experienced before. Everything about the way you made him feel motivated a commitment to worshipping you until his jaw was sore. Your neediness was more rewarding than any accolade heâd ever received, completely immersing himself in the sensations he was giving you. More than anything in his being, he was determined to show his love for you.
Better than Carl ever could.
taglist: @justalocallesbian (heyyyyyyy omg you're my first person on a taglist!)
Description : When you finally agree to marry michael, it seemed quite a shock to his father, But michael wasnât gonna let that ruin his special day with you.
Warning/Content : long ahh story, porn with a tad bit of plot, marriage( brief description ), pinch of angst , j*e jackson, smut, sweet love making, dry humping,switch!mj, switch!reader, missionary, backshots , riding ,oral receiving ( m & f ), fingering, slow to rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink , praise kink ( he talks you through it) , the use of pretty girl n ma' , overstimulation.
It had been a shock to your family and michael's family regarding your abrupbt engagement towards each other but regardless of everybody's reaction they have been supportive about it, words feigning " i've always known it'd be the two of you! " words from janet or " you finally realized your feelings for him/her! " â like they've always known the two loved each other more than best friends. hell everybody could see it but the two always denied it, always answering with weâre just friends like they always have been. But not everyone could be happy about the abrupbt announcement ; joe jackson.
Joe was livid with the surprising news, his son ; one of the jackson 5 â marrying a non talented and non-famous person? Oh that had him seething with raw anger. his eyes almost popped out of his head hearing the news from his wife, he stormed off so quickly the jackson family hadn't had the chance to stop him before he was storming to where his car was. straight to her place, he knew michael would be there. Just perfect.
The loud banging from the door startled michael awake, hair fuzzed up and messy. He glanced towards your still sleeping form, glad that you werenât woken up by the sudden noise outside your appartment. Gosh michael still couldnât believe it, heâd marry you â his best friend of 8 years ; The person whose always been there with him. He brushed a few strands of hair away from your face.
â iâm glad it was you.. â a small smile played on his lips, â thank you for giving me a chance to love you properly. â he pressed a small kiss to your forehead. He was talking to you as if you werenât in some deep sleep, oh boy how excited he is to marry you in a few weeks time.
Michael slowly pushed himself out the bed, walking towards the living room where the loud knocking was heard.
â Michael, Open this damn door. i know youâre in there! â josephâs voice echoed through the other side of the oak door, the handle rattling against its lock.
Michaelâs breath caught in his throat, holding his breath before slowly turning the knob. He felt like he couldnât breath, a tight feeling in his neck. bile making its way up wanting to escape from its prison, a chance to be free.
â Joseph. â damn it. michaelâs voice cracked at the end, a slight quiver at the start of saying josephâs name. ïżŒ
â Are you out of your mind boy!? â Joseph shouted, his voice echoing out through the apartment. His eyes wide with undeniable anger.
â iâ â before michael can even get a word out he was gently pushed behind you, protecting him from joseph.
â no, joseph. â now you were up in josephâs face, you were furious ; vivid with the idea of joseph showing up to your apartment, â what are you doing here? â
â get out of my face lilâ girl. â
â You have no right barging here in and threatning michael, just because he didnât tell you! â you let out a laugh of disbelief, because the nerve of this man. Still trying to control michael despite him being of age.
Before joseph could even get a word out of his mouth, you beat him to it.
â Michael can make his own decisionâs without consulting you â , you took a deep breath before continuing, â if you try and ruin our wedding, be prepared to get exposed for the nasty things youâve done just to get rich. â
Joseph stared at you, his fist clenching ; his blood boiling at the audacity of you threatning him.
â the nerve you have girl.â Joseph was once, speechless. Props to michael for choosing someone to fight for him, heâll give him that.
You were seething with rage, not even a few weeks of michaelâs idea and here was joseph always trying to ruin what matterâs the most to michael.
But michael for once too was speechless, here you were just woken up a few minutes ago before him. Protecting him from his fatherâ god, michael really did love you for who you were.
â I want you to get out of this building, â You were even closer to joseph now, a single swing wouldâve knocked him in the face, â and leave me and michael alone. â
Before a sound could get out of josephâs mouth, you slammed the door shut in his face ; locking the door just in case he tried to get in and try to harm you and michael because to be honest you were still exhausted from these past few weeks.
You faced michael now, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression, without saying anything michael took a set forwardâ he wrapped his arms around you ; like a warm blanket after a rough breeze.
â thank you. â was the only thing michael could mutter ; his voice laced with relief and love.
â you donât have to say thanks mikey, â you rubbed circles on his back , â iâll always be here for you no matter what. â
But you knew this wouldnât be the last time joseph would try and control michael ; you knew heâd go to extreme lengthâs just to get rid of problemâs whoâd get in his way of money. He wouldnât let you go that easy.
The air in the garden was thick with the scent of jasmine and the soft, acoustic melody of the instruments being played. A hush fell over the gathered loved ones ; consisting only of close friends and family, you and michael wanted the wedding to intimate, something the media wouldnât know and try to tarnish its image.
traditional string march faded into a hauntingly familiar instrumental. As the heavy wooden doors swung open, the ambient noise died. Michael didnât see the glittering floral arrangements or the crowded pews; he only saw you , whose breath caught audibly as they locked eyes down the aisle.
The Minister droned on about unity, his voice blending into the ambient hum of the canopy's glowing glyphs, but you tuned it out. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the calluses on Michaelâs large hands, his thumb gently tracing the fabric of her sleeve while they waited to speak.
â i canât promise to give you a quiet life," Michael said, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared his throat and slid the band onto her finger. "But I promise to stand by you through every storm, every universe, and every fight. I am yours, completely and always."
Underneath a canopy of lush white lilyâs , you and michael exchanged deeply personal vows that brought smiles and a few joyful tears to everyone's faces. The moment they were pronounced married and shared their first kiss, Any residual churchly decorum was forgotten as Michael pulled her into a dip, catching her completely off guard. You laughed into the kiss, her hands tangled in his dark curls, the roaring applause from their friends echoing across the aisle. the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, marking the beautiful beginning of their new chapter together.
Itâd been a few hours after the wedding and the whole reception, you and michael were inside your honeymoon suite. Having just been left alone by your family and his.
Michael was nervous, gosh did you look beautiful tonight, that white wedding dress you choose made him feel feral ; you looked like the first sunlight glow heâd see after months of harsh winter.
He canât even properly describe how heâs feeling right now, the pent up feelings he kept for over eight years was begging to burst out of his body ; eight whole years of pure genuine love he held just for you.
He still felt a slight guilt with him springing the idea to whilst you were struggling with money, but heâd be damned to lose you forever, never having the chance to see you again. The late night talks, hanging out at hayvenhurst with his brotherâs and sisterâs .
Just thinking about losing you in a way that couldâve been prevented, hurt him deeply.
â Michael, are you listening to me? â you were staring at him through the vanity mirror, concerned laced your features ; eyebrows furrowing in concern.
â ohâ yeah what were you saying? â michael cleared his throat, embaressed that you have caught him staring at you and clearly not listening to what you were even saying.
â i asked if you could help me untie my dress, mikey. â fuck, michael knew he was utterly fucked the moment you called him that, his pulse quickening ; heat rushing to his cheeks.
Of course you called michael that nickname in a teasing way at the ripe age of fifteen pertaining to a incident where you almost left for the first time, michael bawled his eyes out at the news even though you reasurred him that it wasnât most likely until you were both older yet he still cried after all the reassurance you gave him that day. but this time, it was different. You two were married now ; no longer best friends but two joined as one now. It felt more intimate ; warmer and comforting, michael didnât need to hide his feelings for you now, he finally has the freedom to express his feelings properly to you now.
Michael couldnât even get a word out, he simply nodded and closed the distance between them. He softly exhaled through his nose ; his hands shaking as he touches the ribbon to untie the corset currently pushing up your breasts.
â yâlook so nervous, mikey. â a small smile curled up your lips, staring at him through the mirror. How cute michael couldnât even look at you properly ; biting his lip to prevent himself from saying something embarassing.
You could feel the ghost of his fingers; carefully untying the knots that secured your wedding dress to your body, goosebumps littered through out your entire body because of michaelâs touch just from helping you. Feather like touches touching your skin.
â mâ mânot nervous.. this suitâs just making me feel weird. â michael reasoned, his voice going higher in pitches as he horribly tries to lie to you ; his breath hitched at the thought of touching you intimately.
Michael finally untied all the knotâs, finally releasing you from the tight hold of your dress, before michael can even say a word.
You turned around and suddenly faced him, standing up from your seat from the vanity mirror, michael looked at you with wide eyeâs, his eyes frantically bouncing from you to looking anywhere but you.
He called out your name in a slight panic, watching you look at him with a predatory gaze ; shit , he could already feel himself getting hard from the thought of you just infront of him.
A smile grazed your face as you cupped his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his body, his doe eyes looking at you with curiosity and so much loveâ well if you squinted hard enough it was almost like his pupils turned into a heart shaped dilated pupil.
â donât get nervous around me now, mikey â , you looked at him, eyes filled with love, pure genuine adoration that youâd only see in movies, â you can be vulnerable with me. â
God. Whyâd you have to say his name like that, soft and alluring, something that always leaves you with an impression of sweet and fiesty.
â itâs just.. iâm glad it got to be you, maâ. â michael shyly admitted, his hand softly gripping your waist, while the other cupped your nape , â so glad you said yes to me. â
Without missing a beat you and michael leaned into each other, lips touching ; It was a slow, sweet exploration a soft press of lips, a declaration of michaelâs feelings for since you two were twelve years old.
As the kiss deepened, the sweetness began to change. The softness of his lips grew more insistent, the pressure increasing as a low, needy hum vibrated in his throat. His hands, which had been resting loosely on your waist, began to wander, his palms sliding upward to cup your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones with a desperate sort of reverence.
The kiss turned passionate, a hungry breathless thing that tasted of so much yearning. You could feel the heat radiating off him, a feverish warmth that seemed to pull you closer and closer until there was no space left between you. You reached for him, your hands sliding under the hem of his tux, your skin tingling at the contact with his smooth, warm torso.
â been waitin for this for a long time, â he murmured against your lips, his voice a ragged, breathy whisper that sent shivers racing down your spine.
â well arenât you a yearner? â you teased, a small breathless laugh left your lips.
Michael laughed, his eyes looking at you with deep hunger. He pressed you back against the wall, mouth hot and demanding as he kissed you like a man starved. His hands slid down to grip your ass hard, hauling you flush against him so you could feel every thick inch of his cock straining inside his dress pants. He rolled his hips once, slow and filthy, dragging that heavy length over your stomach while a low groan vibrated against your lips.
âFuck, pretty girl,â he breathed, voice already rough. âEight years Iâve been waiting to call you mine. Canât believe I finally get to touch you like this.â
You pushed back into him, rolling your own hips so the hard ridge of him ground right over your clit through the thin lace of your wedding lingerie. The friction sent sparks racing up your spine. Michael let you take the lead for a moment, hands staying firm on your ass while you rubbed yourself on him, chasing that pressure. His breathing turned ragged fast.
âMaâ, you feel how hard you make me?â he rasped, lips brushing your ear. âThat cockâs been yours since the day we met. Take what you need.â
He spun you around and walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You shoved at his chest and he went willingly, falling onto his back with a hungry grin that promised he was letting you have controlâfor now. You climbed over him, straddling his hips, and started grinding down in earnest. The thick line of his cock dragged perfectly against your soaked panties with every roll of your hips. Michaelâs fingers dug into your thighs, thumbs stroking circles while he watched you use him.
âRide it just like that, pretty girl. Fuck, look at you. Soaking my pants already.â
You leaned down and kissed him hard, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, then slid lower down his body. Your fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper. His cock sprang free, long and thick, the head already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base, feeling the heavy weight of him, then lowered your mouth and took the swollen tip between your lips. Michaelâs head dropped back with a broken groan.
â damn, maâ. Your mouthâshit, thatâs it. Suck it nice and slow.â
You bobbed your head, taking more of him each time until your throat fluttered around the thick head. Michaelâs fingers threaded gently through your hair, guiding but not forcing, letting you set the pace while he praised you through every wet slide.
âSuch a good girl for me. Taking my cock so deep already. Pretty girl, youâre gonna make me lose it before I even get inside you.â
a few minutes he tugged you off with a wet pop and flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, eyes dark with need.
No. This night was all about you, michael wanted to ruin you.
âMy turn now,â he growled.
He stripped the lingerie from your body like it offended him, spreading your thighs wide and settling between them. His tongue dragged a slow, hot stripe up your soaked pussy before sealing over your clit. Two thick fingers pushed inside you at the same time, curling against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard. You arched off the bed with a sharp cry.
âMichaelâoh my godââ
He pulled back just enough to speak against your dripping cunt, voice low and filthy. âThatâs it, pretty girl. Let me hear every sound. Gonna make this tight pussy come on my tongue first. You can take it.â
His fingers pumped steadily while his tongue flicked and circled your swollen clit. Your thighs started shaking almost immediately. He didnât stop when the first orgasm hitâhe kept licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing it out until you were whimpering and trying to close your legs around his head. Only then did he pull his fingers free, licking them clean with a wicked grin before crawling up your body.
He lined his thick cock up with your entrance and pushed in slow, inch by inch, stretchingâ god. It was big, bigger than you expected. Just enough fat and dang near long. you open around him. The burn mixed with pleasure made your eyes roll back.
â oh fuck! I-itâs too big, â you whined out, covering your mouth to stop yourself from screaming.
âGoddamn, maâ. So fucking tight around me,â he praised, voice strained as he bottomed out. âTaking every inch like you were made for this cock. Breathe for me, pretty girl. Let me feel you relax.â
Once he was buried deep he stayed still, letting you adjust to the size of him while his hands stroked your hips. Then he started movingâlong, deep strokes that gradually picked up speed. Your hands clutched at his back as the pace turned rougher, the headboard knocking against the wall with every thrust.
Michael hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, folding you nearly in half so he could drive even deeper. The new angle made you cry out loud.
âRight there? Yeah, I feel it. That spot that makes you squeeze me so fucking good. Keep taking it, pretty girl.â
He fucked you harder, the wet sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.
â mikeyâ gosh! Iâm n-near â , you moaned, feeling your orgasm nearing, that non-stop tingling spreading through out your body.
When your second orgasm crashed through you, your walls clamped down around him so tight he had to grit his teeth to keep from coming.
âFuckâmaâ, youâre milking me so good. Donât stop, pretty girl. Give it to me again.â
He pulled out suddenly and flipped you onto your stomach. You barely had time to catch your breath before he yanked your hips up and slammed back inside from behind. Earning a loud moan from you, fuck it felt like you were gonna die from pleasure the way he was fucking you.
The new position let him hit even deeper. One hand pressed between your shoulder blades while the other gripped your hip, pulling you back to meet every brutal thrust.
â you look so pretty taking it,â he groaned. âAss bouncing on my cock. Such a good girl for me. Taking every inch like you were born for it.â
You pushed up onto your hands and knees, meeting him thrust for thrust. Michaelâs pace turned brutal, the head of his cock battering that perfect spot inside you with every snap of his hips. Your arms gave out and you dropped to your elbows, face pressed into the sheets as he kept pounding.
He reached around and rubbed your swollen clit in tight circles. The overstimulation made your vision blur and your whole body shake.
âOne more for me, pretty girl. Come on my cock again. I know you can. Be good and give it to me.â
Your third orgasm crashed through you harder than the others. Your whole body shook as you clenched and fluttered around him. Michael groaned loud, hips stuttering.
âFuckâgonna fill you up. Take it all, maâ. Every drop.â
He buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside you, hot pulses of cum flooding your pussy. He stayed pressed tight, grinding through the aftershocks until every drop was inside you. Even after he finished he didnât pull out right away. Instead he reached around again, fingers finding your oversensitive clit and rubbing slow circles while his cock stayed buried inside you.
âToo much?â he murmured against your shoulder, voice soft but still filthy. âI know, pretty girl. Just one more. Let me feel you come around me again while Iâm still inside you.â
The overstimulation had you sobbing into the sheets, but your body responded anyway, walls fluttering around his softening cock as another smaller orgasm rolled through you. Michael kissed the back of your neck, praising you through every twitch.
âThatâs my wife. So fucking perfect. Took everything I gave you like such a good girl.â
When he finally pulled out, a thick trickle of his cum leaked from your swollen cunt. Michael gently turned you onto your back again and kissed you slow and deep, one hand stroking your thigh while the other cupped your face.
âYou did so good for me, pretty girl,â he whispered against your lips. âMy wife. All mine. Eight years and it was worth every second.â
â SUMMARY: Michael felt rejected and decided to make you feel the same way. Little did he know, he was making it worse for himself.
â WARNINGS: sub!mike, bratty mike, sexual tension, lowkey angst with a hint of smut atp, lots of arguing, whole house petty, michael is genuinely sick and twisted iâm so sorry, fake (?) cheating, both trying to make each other jealous, they say mean things but they love each other guys, humiliation kink, insecurity, use of maâam, use of traffic light system, handjob, free use kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, no aftercare, this is a long one. not proofread (yet!)
â WC: 8.5k (donât say damn..)
â A/N: That third photo screams bratty mike and you canât tell me otherwise idc. Also, Iâm sure you can guess who exactly the model is. I refuse to say her full name, but ifykyk.
Yeah, this boy went and lost his damn mind.
Michael had been pushing your buttons that whole day. Itâs not like you didnât enjoy his presence or crave his affection, but seriously?
First, came him interrupting your sleep.
He woke you up at 5:42am on Saturday morning. His curly head was in between your legs and he was eating you like you were his long awaited breakfast. Any other day? Fine. Even exceptional, but you had a long week behind you, and a busy one ahead of you. He knew that. You wanted to sleep, and being awoken only two hours into it was not helping. You firmly, but gently, shoved his head away and gave him a stern âEnough.â
Then, came his sulking.
When you finally woke up at 9:08am, groggy and irritated, you decided to try and wind down by cooking for the two of you. He still hadnât built up the courage to touch you again. He always came up and gave you soft kisses to your neck while you flipped pancakes. He was in his head though, after laying in your shared bed feeling rejected when you sharply ordered him to leave you alone. All he wanted to do was make his favorite girl feel happy and give you some kind of reward for working so hard this week. He didnât mean to get so lost in the maze of your core that heâd wake you up.
So, because of his own embarrassment, heâd been sighing dramatically and setting things down on tables and counters just slightly too loud. To anyone else, itâd seem normal, but you knew Michael. He was begging for your attention. After he decided not to accompany you while you cooked like he usually did, though, you werenât gonna cave in and give it him.
The last straw, though? The phone calls.
Long after eating together in suffocating silence â both of you too stubborn to break it â the two of you drifted off to your separate workspaces in your shared home. You were getting things in order for the upcoming Tuesday. Michael was being awarded the Guinness World Record for the best-selling album of all time for Thriller. That meant you needed to make sure you were caught up with work and that you had time to relax before accompanying your star-studded boyfriend to the highly publicized event.
Michael, on the other hand, was doing a whole bunch of nothing. Not because he didnât need to, but because he couldnât. He tried writing, he tried finishing up painted portraits for some of his industry peers, he even popped Peter Pan into the roomâs tiny VCR, but even that couldnât catch his attention.
Surely sheâll say somethinâ to me, right? He thought to himself after the movie was about halfway through.
But, you hadnât. You didnât even say anything to him for not joining you in the kitchen; something he stubbornly did just to get you to finally acknowledge him. So, he decided to a phone call. He didnât have much to talk about, he just wanted to be petty.
âHey, Q!â he said obnoxiously loud, loud enough for you to hear through your closed office door.
You were elbows deep into your work when you heard your boyfriendâs laughter drift through the vents of your office. You couldnât tell what exactly what he was talking about, but you were sure it was his producer, Quincy Jones, on the other line. He would be joining the two of you to the ceremony, and he mustâve been ironing out details like you were.
Cute, you thought to yourself.
Then, it got ugly real, real fast. At some point, you finally had to walk down the hallway into his room and ask him to lower his voice.
âIâm makinâ some business calls. Could you just be a bit quieter please?â youâd asked him politely.
âMmm, she speaks!â he joked, and you heard Quincy laugh over the phoneâs receiver as well. Had he told him about your mood today? You shrugged it off as he covered the phone and responded, âYeah, Iâll tone it down some,â and went back to his conversation like your interruption was as unimportant as an infomercial. The interaction left you a bit unnerved, but youâd check him about it later.
You were only able to make it to your second phone call when you heard the hooting and hollering from his office yet again. You tried to ignore it, you really did, but you were sleep deprived, annoyed, and embarrassed because you knew heâd been talking about you. You mumbled out a quick goodbye to your coworker and slammed your phone down, already halfway through your door. You started storming down the hallway once more.
âI thought I asked you to be quiet,â you said as his door flew open, hands on your hips. Michael ignored you and kept speaking on the phone.
âYeah, and I was thinkinâ of changinâ some of our plans for that eventâŠNo- yeah, Tuesdayâs,â he continued on.
âHello?â you questioned him, waving your hands in his face. He covered the receiver and looked up to you briefly.
âOne sec,â he responded shortly.
âYeah. So, I was thinkinâ we invite Brooke. Yeah, she was my date-â he annoyingly emphasized this, âto the last event as well, before I went public with my girl.â
âMichael, hang up,â you spat out, any patience you had left long gone. He still ignored you.
âYeah, not sure if sheâll like that. Brooke will be a good time, though. Iâll let her knowâŠMhm, yeah Iâll call you up later.â He finally hung up that stupid phone.
âWhatâs goinâ on?â he asked you innocently. You were heated.
âAre you actually serious? You can be a lil pissy about me not wanting you to eat me out, thatâs fine. Iâll let it slide for the first couple of hours. Itâs been damn near twelve, Michael. I have important shit to handle, for you and your important event. I asked you politely to be quiet and I even let it slide when you continued not to be.â You stared at him wildly, gasping for air after saying everything in one breath.
âIâm off the phone now. You can continue,â he said with a shrug of his shoulders and he started dialing another number.
âNot even an apology? Yeah, forget it. Iâll sleep in my office tonight, too,â you said in a fit of anger as you stormed back to your workspace.
Who the hell did this boy think he was? You spent at least 10 minutes pacing back and forth enough to wear a hole into your carpet. You couldnât even concentrate on your work anymore, unspoken words settled on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to tell him to grow up, to kiss you, to fuck himself.
Without thinking, your legs started down that short but treacherous path of your hallway. You were about to knock when you realized heâd actually gotten quiet this time. Curious, you touched your hand to the doorknob before freezing. You heard him giggling at some feminine voice coming in through his phone.
âYeah, and if anything, we can just say that youâre my date. Yâknow, to soften the blow. âM sure sheâll be fine with-â You flew into the room once more, seething.
âOh, so youâre fine with pretending to date another girl? All over some head, Michael? You done lost your damn mind. Hang up, now. Or I will.â
âWai-â he started.
You yanked the phone from his grip by its cord and hung up his call.
âYou gonâ explain yourself?â you asked him impatiently.
âYouâre beinâ mean, Brookeâs a safe date. Nothinâ to it,â he said, too nonchalantly.
âIâm being mea- Michael. Do you know how fucking exhausted I am? Iâm sitting here wrapping shit up for you, to show up for you, for an award youâre winning, and you canât keep your needy ass hands off of me to sleep for more than two fucking hours. Iâve been patient and calm with you and you decided to start acting like a fucking neglected puppy by pouting and being annoyingly loud and calling up a random ass model to be your âbackup date.â What the fuck is your goal, here? Because I can promise you I wasnât you to touch me even less than I did earlier,â you ranted.
âSheâs not a random model, sheâs my close friend,â he responded calmly.
You just about lost it.
âThatâs all you fuckinâ took from that? You know what? She so close to you, gonâ head and have her come along! Let her take all the important pictures with you too! And leave me the fuck alone for the night.â
The rest of the night, neither of you spoke to each other, save for him coming into your office quietly to say goodnight and check to see if you were actually set on sleeping on the sofa in there. You were. He gave you a kiss to your forehead as you pretended to be asleep, and softly closed its door.
The next day was super tense. You accompanied him to his childhood home in Encino for a get together his family was having. The two of you tried to appear as though everything was fine, holding onto each other, choosing the other as your teammate for board games, and even sharing the core of washing dishes. At one point, though, La Toya, his older sister, pulled you to the side and questioned you.
âWhy are the two of you actinâ so weird? Yâall have your first fight?â she asked in soft voice.
âWeâre fine, Toya. Heâs still just nervous with me around the family, I guess,â you lied. Youâd been together for over three years by now, so the fib made no sense, but she believed you anyway.
The night at home was spent identically to the previous one. Your back was in pain from sleeping on the small office couch, though, so you slept in bed this time.
âI love you,â he whispered as you settled into bed next to him.
âI love you too,â you responded hastily.
âCan we cuddle?â he asked hesitantly.
âDo you think you deserve a cuddle?â you asked him back. He sat in silence as you got your answer and drifted off to sleep.
Monday morning rolled along, and you were sick of the tension. After you finished showering and getting dressed for work, you headed to the kitchen to make Michael and yourself some breakfast as an olive branch. You expected to see him lazing in his favorite chair at the kitchen island, reading the paper. What you werenât expecting was the handwritten note sitting in his place.
At a fitting with Q. See you when youâre home. â Applehead
Your stomach sunk and you decided to miss the most important meal of the day.
Michael knew he was wrong. He knew he was wrong to be loud when you were working. He knew he was wrong to offer another girl to be his date while his girl was standing right front of him. He knew it was wrong to write a note and not end it with an I love you. But, he couldnât stop something deep in him for loving the tension this was creating, and for that, he knew he was even more wrong.
His fitting went by in what seemed like a blur, due to his brain being preoccupied. He would start feeling guilty for his then immediately get butterflies in his stomach the thought you open up and angry with him. Every officer ring he heard in dressing room would send some into knots, hoping it was you, but it wasnât, and then heâd be ashamed again.
Brooke, his model friend, had turned up near the end for her own dress fitting for tomorrow night, and her presence distracted him just enough to appear normal again. They chatted about nonsense, and he stayed outside her door until she finished her fitting, offering to grab lunch with her at yours and his favorite lunch spot near home afterwards.
What a stupid idea.
Youâd gotten off of work early because your duties at work werenât needed. Your employees picked up extra work to keep ahead while you were taking time off for your boyfriend, and although you were grateful, you were upset because you had next to nothing to do. You stayed longer than you shouldâve, and once you realized you were just wasting time, you headed out and decided to comfort yourself with lunch from your favorite place.
As soon as you walked into the restaurant, though, your heart flipped. Because standing in line in front of you was one of Michaelâs security guards, ordering two meals. One of them was your boyfriendâs usual, and the other was unknown.
âHi, Maurice! Is he here?â you asked him almost cheerily, he referring to Michael. You figured it was for Michael and Bill, and considered riding home with them and having Maurice take your car for you so you could catch up with Michael.
âYep, heâs in the car out back. I can place your order too, if youâd like?â he offered politely.
âYes, thank you! Iâll take my usual as well. Can you drive my car home for me, too?â you asked him, handing him your keys.
âNo worries, hun. Iâll see you later.â
You snuck around the building and walked over to the carâs usual hiding place with an extra bounce in your step. You were ready to put the petty distance behind you and cuddle with your boyfriend again.
You opened the door without warning, and were met with a sourness so potent, you nearly hurled over and puked. She was there. And your boyfriend was sitting a little too close to her looking a little too comfortable.
âThe fuck?â was all you could say.
âH-hi, baby. Sheâs just-â
âBrooke. Maurice will be here in a few minutes with my car. Tell him I said he could drive you home. Have a lovely day,â you interrupted him calmly. There was a pause. You raised your brow ever so slightly, and she exited this car with a quick apology. You slid in and took her placeâyour placeâ next to him, without a word.
âItâs not what you think. She just had her fitting after mine a-and I offered her lunch-â
âAt our favorite spot,â you interrupted again, still too calmly.
ââŠYes, but itâs just cuz I was cravinâ it-â
âAnd you didnât leave a message to let me know sheâd be with you. Nor did you think to let me know you were getting it so you could get some for me for later. Interesting.â
You could hear him stop breathing.
âAnd what was the fitting for, Michael? So she could be your date for tomorrow?â
âWait. No, no you said-â
âYouâre clueless. Bill, drive us home, please,â you asked evenly as you rolled the SUVâs partition halfway down. The fact that it was even up in the first placeâŠYou didnât want to get into this in front of Bill, the situation already leaving you embarrassed. Fuck the food.
Unfortunately for Michael, your demeanor only egged him on. Because, yes. He knew that taking Brooke to your place wasnât okay, and he knew offering her a ride home in his private car was disrespectful. He hadnât expected you to be there, but that made it worse. You were so close to snapping, and he was so close to begging for it.
The car hadnât even been fully brought to a stop before you were opening the door and yelling out a quick, âThanks, Bill!â You intentionally let the door close in Michaelâs face.
Michael couldnât fight the shit-eating smirk that plastered across his face as he bid Bill a goodbye, the older man looking at him in pure confusion.
When he slowly slugged through the front door and walked the timid path to the dining room, savoring the tension, his breath was nearly taken away at the sight of you. You were fuming, your posture was unforgiving, hands clasped on the table like you were preparing to reprimand him, and you were beautiful.
âSit down.â
His feet reacted before his mind could, and he sat in the chair directly across from you, waiting.
âDo you think this is a game to me?â you asked him in a tone so cool, his bones chilled.
âIâm not playinâ any game. I just thought it would be alright with you.â
Lie.
âWhy would I be okay with knowing youâre still gettinâ her fitted for dresses and takinâ her to our favorite spot. Or with seeinâ her in our car?â
âSheâs my friend. I didnât wanna uninvite her last minute.â
Lie.
âBut you can invite her last minute? Mâkay. And what exactly is she gonna be there for? To make me look like some side piece? To stroke your ego?â
To make you jealous, he wanted to say.
âTo keep up appearances. Sheâs always been my date to these sorta things. I donât wanna discard her,â he responded instead.
âYouâre okay with discarding me in the process though? Do you see how fucked up that is? Iâm your girlfriend. Or is this your way of getting rid of me?â you asked him, your anger cracking through your calm facade.
âSheâs still coming. The press is expecting her. Theyâre expecting both of you. Qâs gonna be with us too, so itâll look like a group thing,â he tried to amend.
âThen I guess Iâll be Qâs date, and you can prance around with the pretty white model all night,â you added with a shrug, pushing your chair out and walking away.
âYouâre being a little excessive, donât you think?â he asked with panic laced into each word. He hadnât expected you to turn it onto him, and you could tell. If heâd be petty, so would you.
âIâm just doing what youâre doing. Iâll be in my office on the phone planning my date with Quincy. Make sure to give us some privacy,â you said with a wink.
He was livid.
If there was anything about Michael that he kept pretty well hidden, it was his jealousy. He was insecure, especially with all the eyes on him constantly, so jealousy was a given. He was constantly comparing himself to the greatest of the greats, trying his hardest to live up to or even surpass them. He had self-esteem issues that stemmed from his first moment of sentience. But this? You proudly announcing that you were going to take his producer, someone he considered a close friend as your date to his event? It wrecked him. And maybe he deserved it, but that didnât mean he was taking this lying down.
So, he decided to take it up a notch.
The day of the event was hectic. The two of you had taken your flight from LA to New York ona red eye and were completely exhausted. You had only two hours to check in to your hotel and get some sleep before tending to your busy schedules . You were expected to meet at his stylistsâ studio to get your hair and makeup done before they put you into your outfits for the evening.
Immediately upon arrival, Brooke was sitting in a chair getting her hair primped and curled, much to your own annoyance.
âHey, you two! Me being Michaelâs date wonât be awkward, right? He told me you were okay with it, but I promise I can back out if it makes things weird,â she asked with an anticipation that read that she wanted you to say it was all good.
âWell, he said I was okay with it!â you replied, trying to conceal the sarcasm. âBesides, Iâm Quincyâs date tonight. Itâs all good.â
She beamed a little too excitedly for your liking.
You didnât really have the time nor energy to pay her mind, so you tried to allow the chaos of the dressing room to consume your attention. You tried.
Michael, on the other hand, took it upon himself to make you as jealous as he felt. He spent the entire time allowing the model to occupy his personal space. He laughed loudly at jokes that werenât funny at all, brushed invisible hair out of her eyes, and drank iced coffee from her straw. He didnât even like coffee. Yet, you still wouldnât pay him any mind.
You were too busy actually reveling in seeing the bustling inner workings of the entertainment industry. You were successful, sure, but you would never in a million years get to this status on your own. You managed to even start enjoying yourself when Quincy came along and started giving you advice on show business. At one point, he took you to the side to give you a deeper talk not meant for all those ears.
âI understand he can be a lilââŠstubborn. But you have to understand, he donât know how to handle beinâ the most famous person in the world at only 25 years old. And imagine trying to navigate your first real relationship through it all. Now, Iâm not sayinâ what heâs doinâ is okay, but give him some grace,â Quincy lectured.
âQ, I am. But itâs like heâs testinâ me. Like heâs testinâ my love, our relationship. Heâs doinâ all this affectionate shi- stuff with her like iâm not sitting right there, I donât understand why.â You almost sounded defeated.
âListen, heâs used to everyone listeninâ to what he says. Heâs around yes men more than heâs ever been around people who will tell it to him straight. Youâre the one true person who doesnât tiptoe around what you need to say to him. And heâs obviously sensitive. He didnât tell me much, he really only wrote things out on notes for some lyrics, but being told no by you confused him. He was grateful for it, but a part of him felt rejected.â He sighed, realizing the conversation went a little too deep for the time.
âBut thatâs a conversation the two of you need to have. Now, Iâm entertaininâ yâallâs game tonight, but donât bring me in the middle of this type of stuff no more. Or Brooke. Iâma get on him about that too.â
You embraced his larger torso, your posture filled with gratitude for the words he offered you. The two of you returned to the busier area hand in hand, and you gave him a peck to his glistening forehead as you made your way to the snack table. You felt a few sets of eyes on you.
Michael and the model had seen the whole thing. His mood visibly shifted from playful, to full on anger, to unreadable within seconds. Those were his lips.
In that moment, he fought with himself to not use the ones attached to his own face disrespectfully as well.
Maybe sheâd finally put me in my place, a voice in the very back of his mind croaked into his cranium.
The energy inside the black SUV the 7 of you â Michael, Quincy, Brooke, 3 security guards, and yourself â rode together was noticeably stiff.
Quincy and the model kept up most of the conversation, trying to get you and Michael to chime in here and there. You felt guilty for how awkward the two of you were making things seem, so you tried ribbing with your boyfriend. He basically iced you out.
The flashes upon arrival were enough to allow yourself to tune out the noise in your head. Your small group was ushered in quickly, accompanied by your security, and the secret backstage pathway gave you something to focus on.
Michael gave a heartfelt and beautiful speech to commemorate his record win, and he actually saved a piece in it to honor you. Your entirely being visibly relaxed and filled with unadulterated adoration.
As he finished up his message, he called for Quincy to join him on the stage as well. You gave Q a hug and tried to kiss him on the cheekâ the quick and awkward action ended in the peck landing in between his jaw and neckâ and applauded cheerfully. As Quincy hugged Michael, you could see his face flash with a fleeting expression of discomfort that he quickly covered up.
When you all converged backstage, floating on the high of seeing a loved one be honored with such a notable prize, the room buzzed with a glittery noise of excited chatter. You kept trying to break away from conversations so that you could be by your boyfriendâs side, but he was engrossed in conversations left and right.
People were asking you about why heâd brought Brooke as his date if you were there, why her outfit matched his more than your own did, why you were letting him take photos with her kissing him. The last question snapped you out of your dissociation, as you followed the questionerâs eyes and saw the scene a few feet away from you.
He was gripping her by the waist and kissing her a little too closely to her jaw, throwing you a smirk as he caught your eyes. You swore you turned physically green with jealousy.
There was something you used to do whenever Michael would cross lines early on in your relationship. He was new to dating seriously, and you were new to being taken seriously, so you had to explain to him what was or wasnât right to do in them, especially since he was used to taking whatever affection came his way as a star.
After one of his more particularly excessive displays of insecurity and jealousy, you came up with a method to keep Michael and yourselfâŠgrounded. Youâd hold fingers up on your handâ or handsâ, depending on how many seconds of leeway you were giving him before your mood soured, and you would put one down every second, essentially counting down how much time he had left.
In the beginning, youâd give him ten, allowing him time to get used to the action. Your default after the familiarity was five. You hadnât needed to go lower than that, ever. Heâd usually get the hint at the mets sight of your hand raised.
Right now, discreetly to everyone elseâs eyes, but very visibly to his, you raised three fingers. He smirked and hugged her closer to him. You put one down. He briefly parted from your gaze as your second finger went down, to make eye contact with a camera. He faced you again, pointed to his cheek, and she gave him a kiss there. You put your last finger down, and watched with burning fury as he laughed heartily.
You politely trudged through the group of onlookers and perched your lips to Michaelâs ear.
âItâs time to go.â The decisiveness in your low whisper sent a shiver down his spine that he covered up with a fake cough.
âAll right, guys! Thank you again so much for being apart of my success, but I must leave now. I have a long flight ahead of me tomorrow!â he announced with enthusiasm. True enthusiasm. And with a lie â your flight wasnât until Thursday.
He gave out hugs and handshakes, told Brooke to hold onto Quincyâs arm, and the four of you, protected by security, left the venue. You rode in separate vehicles this time; you with Michael, Brooke with two security guards, and Q with his own personal driver.
You said not a word to Michael as your vehicle trekked through large crowds and traffic. His arm was caged between one of your hands with a tight grip, and he shifted uncomfortable in his seat 22 times thoughout the ride.
As the two of you made your way to your roomâ walking through the vacant hotel that his team made sure would be completely unoccupied for your stayâ you could hear nothing but the aggressive clunk of your chunky heels against the pristine marble floor.
You entered your suite first, already having your keycard prepared for entry, and sat down on one of the lounge chairs. Michael approached you hesitantly, but still very much excited.
âExplain yourself.â
Your voice was so direct, it even scared you a bit.
âI have nothinâ to explain. Whyâd you wanna go?â he asked, feigning confusion.
âIâm not asking. Explain yourself,â you repeated. Your patience was wearing thin, and your body was already getting hot. You decided to remove your shoes, jewelry, and dress, ignoring the way Michaelâs eyes shamelessly trailed over the way your tight boyshorts and camisole hugged your body.
âI donât need to explain myself to anyone.â He invaded your personal space, and the scent of his cologne made you dizzy.
âWho do you think youâre talkinâ to like that? And who the hell do you think you are? Kissinâ up on some girl for photos when Iâm right there, neglected. Ignoring me when I give you my warning count. What, you donât respect me no more?â you spewed at him, pushing your pointed, manicured finger into his chest with every word.
âSheâs not some girl,â he replied with defiance laced into his tone.
You wanted him out.
âOh, I forgot! Your date. Your real girlfriend. Go head ân call her up then! Go stay with her at her hotel! Iâm done with the fucking games. Was this your goal? You wanted me to snap? Well, there you go. Iâm DONE.â you yelled in a fit of anger.
âMe? You kissed Quincy! Multiple times! You were holdinâ his hand and you kissed him on the neck in front of everyone!â he yelled back.
âFirst of all, you were the one acting like a damn crybaby all weekend. You started the bullshit with the loud phone calls and asking a supermodel to be your date instead of me! Then you took her to our lunch place! On top of that, you had the girl nearly in your lap in our car, without even knowing Iâd see, and then you continued to bring her as a date! I was giving Q a platonic kiss on the cheek, as Iâd do to anyone I see as super close to me. And the âneck kissâ was a fuckinâ accident! We moved too quick, and I missed his cheek! But thanks for letting me know you considered the ones you gave Brooke as more than platonic,â you said as you got more up in his face.
âDonât start shit and not know how to finish it, Michael. Itâs pathetic.â
He looked at you in a mix of bewilderment and lust. Pathetic, he echoed in his mind and clasped his hands in front of his groin very conspicuously.
âThis is fuckinâ turninâ you on? Seriously? âN you have nothinâ to say? Iâm hurt and youâre tryna cover up a boner. Wow.â You pushed past him and picked your belongings off the floor.
His eyes followed your body as you retreated from him, and he licked his lips at the sight of you bent over.
Facing him once more, you crossed your arms against your chest, and his gaze eyed the way your breasts visibly at the contact.
âGo.â He blinked at you, his brain seemingly unable to comprehend the command.
âMichael. Leave. Now. Go be with your dream girl,â you said as you grabbed onto his slender arm, needing him to your suiteâs door.
His feet followed yours until his brain caught up, and then he planted them harshly onto the floor. You yanked and he didnât budge.
âNo.â His voice came out with such intensity, you nearly doubled over.
âIâm not asking you. Get the fuck out, Michael. I donât want you near me right now.â You were shoving him out now, having dropped his arm and stomping behind him before you could stop yourself. âYou donât respect me.â Push. âYou donât take me seriously.â Push. âYou probably fucking hate me.â Push.
Michael started to feel guilty. Had he really made you feel like that? He just wanted to work you up a bit, but this wasnât what he meant.
âNo, what?â His voice shook with regret.
You stopped and leaned your forehead against his back, taking in a huge breath.
âThen fucking explain yourself!â you demanded, lifting your head up to look at him as he turned around to face you.
âI donât- IâŠâ He took a deep breath. âEveryone looks to me for answers. They see me as a leader, as their authority, as a deity of sorts. As flattering as it is, I donât want that! I want to be led sometimes. I want someone to take control of me. âN I love when you do! But I want more. Iâm selfish. Iâm greedy. I want to push your buttons and test your control with me. I dream about you making me do things for your pleasure. I crave for you to put me in my place and make me beg for you because I want to feel like I donât deserve you. I donât deserve you.â
He grabbed onto your hands in an act of surrender and continued.
âEverything I did was wrong, I know that. That was the point. I felt rejected that morninâ because you told me to stop. Then I wanted to make you feel bad because I felt bad. And I kept goinâ because-â He audibly gulped. âB-becauseâŠâ He let go of your hands and slid them down your bare thighs, cupping the backs of them as he drooped down to his knees. His fingers left goosebumps on your legs in their wake.
âPunish me. Please. I deserve it. âN Iâm so sorry. Please forgive me. I do respect you, and I do take you seriously.â He pressed a kiss to your left knee. ââN I could never, ever hate you. You mean more to me than anything, by light years.â He was looking up at you from his position at your feet, eyes full of sorrow, sensuality, and pure love. You finally spoke.
âGet up.â
âN-no. Please, I donât wanna go. *mwah*â He started kissing any skin he could reach; the tops of your feet, your shins, your thighs.
âIâm sorry. I donât love her. I donât love anyone that way but you!â
âI said get up.â Your voice was still surprisingly even, considering how many emotions were flooding through you in the moment.
âBaby-â You grabbed him by his sequined collar and yanked him with more strength than you meant to.
âDonât make me say it again,â you nearly whispered.
He was on his feet in an instant, his head nearly colliding with yours at the swift movement. You let go of his collar and walked over to your suitcase, searching for something. You found the item and walked over to him with a leather belt in your hands.
Setting it down on the trunk at the end of one of the two beds in the room, you climbed onto the furniture, feeling the mattress sink beneath you. Your legs dangled over the side of the bed and you kicked them back and forth menacingly.
âYouâre sorry? Show me, then. âCause I donât see it. All I see in front of me is a boy so selfish that heâd rather be a brat and hurt his own girlfriendâs feelings than say he wanted to be used.â Your tone was harsh, but you didnât care. He wanted a punishment? He was getting it your way.
âYes, Iâm a selfish brat. H-how should I apologize? What do you want me to do?â he asked cautiously, eyeing the belt in front of you.
âFigure it out.â Your voice came out flat.
His face contorted into one of panic and need. He didnât know what to do, but he needed this. He needed you. For the second time that night, he sunk to his knees, but this time, he started crawling towards you like a dehydrated man in the desert seeking water.
The absolute hunger in his eyes very slightly chipped at your resolve. Youâd never felt more wanted in your life, and it was just by the unfiltered look in his eyes, which never left yours.
You could see him plan out his next move before he acted. He removed his shoes, socks, and stood up and took off his jeans, looking at you silently for permission before he even unzipped them. He then removed the sequined coat, and he was left in a plain t-shirt and boxers.
He met you back on his knees, and resumed kissing you from the feet up, like before. Every peck that met your hot skin was followed by an, âIâm sorryâ or, âYouâre perfectâ or, âI adore you.â
His actions quickly became frantic. You werenât responding at all, and he was getting nervous.
âAm I doing good?â he asked, basically begging you to say yes.
âEh,â was your quick witted response. You were riding the high of the once cocky superstar now begging you to take control of him and accept his apology for being bad.
ââM sorry. Please, can you spread your legs a bit? Wanna show youâŠâ
You obliged, secretly craving for some sort of relief. You were pent up.
âThank you.â He continued kissing up and between your thighs, licking them and whimpering like a wounded animal. He was getting closer and closer to your now pulsing heat, and an idea you had earlier sprinted to the direction of your mind as soon as his tongue darted to your clothed core.
âNo. Take off your boxers ân get on the bed.â
Dazed, he followed your command and stripped himself of his undergarments, feeling slightly embarrassed by how visibly hard he was now.
âGet close to the top of it, take off your shirt, and put your arms up.â
He looked at you shocked, hesitating.
âDo I need to repeat myself?â you challenged with a raise of your brow.
âNo, maâam. âM sorry,â was his response as he obliged.
âThatâs what I thought.â
You retrieved the belt from the trunk and slapped it intimidatingly against your palm as you paced in front of the bed. Michaelâs arms were suspended above him on a myriad of pillows.
With steps as light as a ballerinaâs, you walked up to the side of the bed he was on and leaned over his slender frame.
âDo you wanna touch me?â you asked lightly, a coyness drizzling from the question.
âYes, of course. Th-thatâs all I wanna do right now,â he responded immediately, like he wanted to give you the right answer. He did. You straddled his torso, making sure not to let your lower body touch his burning one at all, and began wrapping the belt around his wrists.
âGood. You canât.â The disappointment that flooded his face was only more encouragement for you. You were on a power trip now.
âPlease? Pretty please, Iâll do anythinâ,â he pleaded.
âI know you will. Youâre gonna do everything I say, understand? Then Iâll decide if you even deserve to touch me,â you quipped, tilting his face up to meet your eyes with your index finger. He was pouting.
âOkay.â His eyes trailed straight down to the inside of your tank top, and his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.
âYou look very pretty, by the way. Love this top on you,â he complimented in the most seductive tone youâd ever heard him use. You ignored how his voice made your heart skip two beats and mumbled out a âHmm, thank you.â
You took your manicured nails and scratched down his chest just enough to welt them temporarily.
âA-ahh!â he yelped in painâ you felt his dick twitch âand pleasure.
âAww, whatâs the matter baby?â you fake coddled him.
âThatâŠit hurt,â Michael responded in a way that sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the fact.
âBut you liked it though.â You looked at him pretending to be dumbfounded.
âYes,â he breathed out, as if youâd asked him a question.
Leaning towards his face, you tilted your head in a way that signaled you were going to kiss him. He tilted his own head and closed his eyes in anticipation, only to be met with a sharp nibble to his neck.
âP-please!â He had no idea what he was pleading for.
His wavering tone concerned you just a bit.
âWhatâs your color?â you asked him seriously.
âGreen. Bright green. Really, really green..â He was having the time of his life, believe it or not.
ââKay. Lemme know if itâs too much. I care about you, even when I canât fuckinâ stand you,â you reassured him.
Placing your hand on his neck, you began administering bites to his collarbones, feeling egged on every time he cried out.
âMmm. I-iâm sorry. Please, I need you,â he began chanting over and over. You ignored him each time.
You noticed his eyes close in pleasure, and that just simply would not do for you. You choked him hard.
âPay attention to me. I never gave you permission to look away,â you nearly yelled at him. You loosened your grip when his eyes started to unfocus.
Fighting down a fit of coughs, he apologized with a strained and weak, âIâm sorry, angel.â
As you started crawling down his body, you felt something wet and hard graze your ass cheek, and Michael genuinely screeched.
âAhhh! M-my godâŠâ Michael whined desperately.
You reached down and grabbed his neglected dick, and wiped the precum from the slit on his tip, bringing it up to your mouth and tasting it.
âMmm, is that for me?â you teased.
âY-es. All for you.â He was visibly trying his hardest to obey you and wait for your commands, but at the feeling of your warm finger in his flesh, and the sight of you tasting him just because you could, he wanted nothing more than for you to fuck him into oblivion.
âIt better be.â You reached down to his erect shaft and gripped him very slightly, your palm almost ghosting over it. You decided on a tortuously slow stroke, from balls to tip, as you looked him deep in the eyes.
âAww, you look so needy, baby. You want me to move faster, huh? Stroke you harder? Bet you canât even form a coherent thought. Poor thing,â you said condescendingly.
ââM not needy, a-and I can think- ahh,â he protested.
âYes you are. Look how hard youâre trying to not move into my hand. Iâm barely even touching you, baby. Why you sweatinâ?â
You knew he pretended to hate it, but he grew attached to how it sounded coming from you in particular.
You groped harder and stroked just a bit faster.
âUnless you donât like this? Which is it?â you demanded. You loved playing this mind game.
âU-um. I do li- ah!- like it..â he whined.
Stroking even faster, you demanded once again,
âSo youâre needy. Say it.â
âIâm needy!â he wailed when you slowed down for his delayed response.
You squeezed his dick harshly.
âAnd donât you fucking lie about it again,â you ordered.
You wanted to do more, you really did, but the sight of him completely naked and surrendered to your will while he looked at you as if your existence was the answer to his life⊠You needed him, bad. But he still hadnât earned your forgiveness.
Letting go of his leaking boner and straddling his thigh, you quietly pleaded with yourself to not give off just how horny you were, as well.
âSit up and watch me,â you instructed, grateful that your tone didnât expose the desire growing between your legs.
He immediately obliged, and whined as soon as you began grinding.
âY-yes, please use me. Oh, God!â he cried out, breathless. âYouâre so pretty, oh my- I love you.â
âF-fuck, baby. You like when I use you this much, hmm? You look so good like this.â You could feel his thigh flex and its tendon hit your clit in just the right way. âA-aah! Fuuuuuck. Y-youâre so pathetic, just laying under me fully naked w-while I have clothes on. Just watching me and not even being able to t-touch me.â
âYes. Iâm so pathetic,â he mewled.
You gripped onto his neck to steady yourself better and rode his thigh faster and harder, the pent-up tension making your orgasm approach faster than you were ready for.
âAnd youâre f-fucking clueless. Canât see when a supermodel is so openly hitting on you in front of your own girlfriend.â You choked him briefly at the memory.
âS-so clueless. Just stupid. I only exist forâŠI only exist for your pleasure.â Heâs always wanted to say that, but feared it wouldâve been too much of a turn off. You seemed to enjoy it though, since you started humping his leg so hard that he was sure youâd be bruised.
âThe fuck you do,â was the last coherent thing you said for the next few moments.
You mumbled something that didnât make sense, and crushed your lips to his. He nearly cried at the contact.
Your moans were spilling into his mouth much faster now, his sign that you were going to come undone on his thighâŠafter using him. He could cum with you at the thought.
âF-meâŠhave toâŠâ tumbled from your mouth. You were losing yourself.
âBaby? What do you need from me? Iâll do anything for you,â he responded, concerned.
âWanna fuck, Mikey. F-fuck.â You showed yourself to a stop. Your thighs were trembling while you balanced yourself on the mattress on your knees as you took your top and boyshorts off.
ââM so wet. Need you so bad,â you whined. You missed him. You wasted no time stalking him and sinking down into his shaft. He stretched you wide, even more so since itâd been a bit since you were intimate.
âOhmygod ohmygod plea- Want you closer please!â Michael nearly sobbed. You laid flat against his chest, your breasts swished between your bodies.
âP-put your arms around me. Hug me close,â you instructed. The gangly man lowered his arms, still bound by the wrists, and squeezed you close like you were a piece of coal that could turn into a diamond. You guys would share skin in this moment, if you could. You looked up at him, your anger long subsided.
âI love you so much,â you declared passionately. He looked like he was going to cry.
âI love you, too. Can I please kiss you?â he inquired. You puckered your lips and he met them with fervor.
You began riding his dick at a controlled pace. Every grind brought him straight to your g-spot from this angle, and you wanted to last long enough to let him cum with you. You werenât going to let him cum if he didnât in time with you, but you wanted to forgive him.
Getting lost in the pleasure of the kiss and the friction to your cervix, he began meeting your grinds with gentle thrusts. Michael picked up the aggression once youâd dropped your head back onto his chest and ground him harder than before, a pool of drool sliding toward his nipple.
The room sounded like a porn studio. It was a mess of slapping skin and moans and cries out to higher powers. The bed was creaking beneath you so loudly, you both internally feared that it break. If the hotel was occupied by anybody one floor above or below you, theyâd have heard it all.
âMichael. God. Youâre s-so deep. Could ride your perfect dick forever⊠And you moan like a- song. Your voice is so pretty. Youâre so prettyâŠâ you cooed. You could feel that ball of tension build up inside of you again, and every push to your g-spot felt like it would be the one to unravel it.
âYouâre pretty. Mmm, if you keep t-talking like that Iâm gonna cum, angel,â he warned.
âI want you to, baby. You did so good for me. So good. F-fuck. IâŠMy god, I can feel you everywhere. Wanna feel you cum in me. Iâm yours, claim me. Please, I need it.â Youâve never said please like that to him a day in your life, but you were desperate. You wanted the proof of your mutual connection and relationship in any part of your body it could reach.
âIâll give it to you. Gon-na cum inside because youâre mine. Please, cum with- ahh! Iâm gonnaâŠâ he rambled.
Your hand was sandwiched between your bodies as you rubbed your clit and rocked your hips into his, chasing your high. Your vision was getting spotty, and you could hear his heart pounding hard enough to break his ribs through his chest. He was fully fucking up into you from below, but you didnât even have half a mind to stop him.
âBaby, pleaseâŠâ he whined. The sheer yearning in his voice completely undid you. Squeezing his torso with all of your strength, you ground your clit against his pelvis and let his dick slide in and out of you as your orgasm suffocated you. You moaned and drooled and cried all over Michaelâs chest, and you felt a warm, sticky substance paint the inside of your walls just moments after. He screamed out your name like it was a magical spell.
You maneuvered his sex out of you, and both of you watched as your shared cum mingled onto the hotel blanket below you. He bit his lip.
You were holding onto each other for dear life. The orgasms meant much more than just getting one off, they were shared apologies and washed away regrets. It took a moment for you to realize he was sniffling, too.
âI love you. I adore and cherish you. Iâll never do that again. You mean more than everything to me. Nothinâ I did was warranted, and I know now to be less selfish,â he apologized, his voice hoarse.
âI forgive you. I apologize for my part as well. Thank you forâŠtaking all of that. Even though I was goinâ easy, still.â
âThat was you goinâ easy? Iâm terrified for your enemies,â he joked.
âOh, yes. My cold shoulder is very threatening,â you ribbed. âOh! Lift your arms up, baby. Lemme untie you.â Youâd completely forgotten about his restraint. âAnd you didnât complain once. Good job.â
âThank youâŠâ he replied shyly as you freed his wrists. âHonestly? I thought you were gonna hit me with it- the belt. That would be veryâŠCan we try that one time?â he questioned.
Your body reacted almost immediately to the idea.
âMichael, donât tempt me. Iâll make you go for a round two right now.â
âYou can make me do whatever you wantâŠYou own me,â he challenged.
You never backed down from a challenge. Regaining your strength, you prepared yourselves to explore each othersâ limits for the second time that night.
The harsh words, petty actions, and hurt feelings from the past weekend were all amended. You were each othersâ only and true loves, just fighting to stay together in a world that was actively trying to turn everyone against him and tear you down. But, Michael never wanted anything more but for his entire being to be consumed by you.
To think this all started because Michael wanted to eat you like the last supper.
