“I’m getting warmer… But just wait ‘til I get hot” - Quincy Jones, Body Heat (1974)
Paring: movie!quincy jones x michael jackson
a/n: listen i think movie quincy fine asf, ok. i like his voice. too bad that nigga bald irl.
Summary: with the excitement of a record breaking grammy's night, it's easy to get caught up in the excitement, to not notice that something is going wrong until it's too late.
OR
michael unexpectedly goes into heat the night of the 1984 grammys and quincy helps him trough his first wave.
WARNINGS: 18+ (MDNI!!), sub!michael, fingering (m receiving), anal sex, old man/young man, omegaverse (or a/b/o), omega!michael, alpha!quincy, handjob, pwp, heat/mating cycles, talking through it, missionary... anything else?
a/n: listen i ain't written no porn in a cool 8 years and i ain't written no rpf in at least 6 ... i'm a little rusty, BEAR WIT ME!!!
also i aint proofread nun.
It was February 20th, 1984, at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles, California. Michael Jackson just received his Grammy for Record of the Year and made music history all in one fell swoop. To say the energy in the air was electric would be a gross understatement.
The night was alight with fire, passion, creativity, and full to the brim with tones of gold, silver, blue, and red that shone so brightly it made one’s eyes burn.
For all intents and purposes, it was supposed to be a good night. It was a good night…
Up until it was time for the after party
Michael had been incredibly reserved the whole night. The most Quincy had heard him speak was during the acceptance speeches and during the car ride to the ceremony. While not unusual for him to choose silence, this was undoubtedly of a different kind.
He kept his sunglasses on, also not unusual, but there was a slight tension in the young man’s jaw, a subtle purse of the lips that betrayed a hidden discomfort. When pressed, he would smile and shoot the Alpha a thumbs up with specifically his bedazzled gloved hand.
“I’m all good, Q!” he would say with his usual light-hearted enthusiasm.
The fidgeting also wasn’t unusual. He was known to rub his knees and thighs when particularly stressed but, in this instance, it was almost as if Michael couldn’t or, rather, didn’t. want to resort to his usual methods. Quincy noted more than once Michael’s hands would wander to his thighs only to then immediately jump away and find somewhere else like his face or forearms to touch.
It looked almost as if he was electrocuting himself.
Quincy knew at this point in their working relationship than the press further. Perhaps the excitement of the night was just getting to him, he reasoned. Anyone would be on edge in his position. It’s one thing to believe in the record you’re cutting, to desire to make the greatest, best-selling album of all time. It’s one thing to spend late or even overnights in the studio, mixing, mastering, recording, re-recording, and agonizing over every little detail until all parties were satisfied.
It’s a whole other monster to have that belief validated by the world at large and then returned to you tenfold.
Quincy couldn’t help but smile at the young star before him. He truly was something else.
He gave Michael a light pat on the thigh, noting how he tenses but doesn’t push his friend’s hand away.
“You’re ok, Mike, Gon’ head and enjoy yourself now.”
Michael remains stiff for a little while before a smile spreads across his face.
They share an awkward embrace on account of still being in a moving vehicle but, afterward, Quincy leaves his hand on his thigh. Michael still does not ask for its removal.
The car came to a stop outside the Beverly Hills hotel chosen as the venue. Journalists, photographers, and the like all clamoring to get a look at the history maker. Michael left the car with a little more pep in his step than he had when he entered it. Quincy followed soon after.
He was going to be ok, Quincy had been sure of that at the time.
Michael was not ok and the sooner he admitted that to himself, the better off everybody, him included, would be.
The feeling made itself first known as a copious amount of sweat beading at his brow before he and Quincy were to accept the award for Producer of the Year.” He initially attributed it to a combination of the overly hot stage lights littered throughout the auditorium beating down on everyone, the ever-increasing swell of people as artists, industry professionals, and fans alike shared the space, and nerves, but none of those possible explanations felt sufficient.
There was an unfamiliar itching buzzing his skin. He tried to keep his hands off himself for fear of making the situation worse, but that was difficult when running his hands across his knees and thighs was one of his main sources of self-regulation. Every time he did it, it was like a shock going right up his spine.
Confirmation that it was something more came near the end of the show when he won his 7th award for “Best Pop Vocal Performance, Male.” He called up his sisters on the stage and found himself somewhat overwhelmed by their scents.
Latoya had a very strong, very traditional floral scent for an Omega. She smelt of Magnolia, Rose, and just the slightest hint of citrus. Lemon, he thinks. When she leaned in to give him a cheek kiss, the strength of it nearly knocked him off his feet.
Next was Janet. Janet had one of his most favorite scents in the world, especially for an Alpha. Her scent was musky with a usually comforting mix of Sandalwood, Vanilla, and Honey. Still feminine, but the wood gave it something of a masculine twist. Even though she stood slightly farther away from him, her scent was so much more overwhelming than usual.
He was grateful to Rebbie. As a Beta, she had the most mellow scent of Black tea with the slightest hint of cream. Even so, in tandem with the other two it was still too much.
After he acceptance speech, it was like his sisters opened the floodgates. He could smell everybody in the room, although he struggled to pinpoint which scent was coming from where. Mint, Jasemine, and Vetiver all mingled in a way that made his head spin. While not panicked, his desire to leave the room and go home increased by the minute.
He couldn’t go home, though. He still had one more award he was nominated for with Quincy, “Record of the Year.” If Thriller won that… The anticipation was enough for him to put his discomfort aside.
Never mind the whines he felt bubbling up in his throat, or the heat building in the room, or…
After Quincy and he said their pieces on stage, so many different people came over to congratulate him. They hadn’t even waited for the host to do his ending monologue before wrapping him in embraces, giving him handshakes, patting him on the back, and the like. Michael smiled through it all, making promises to see Stevie, Lionel, and everybody else at the afterparty at the L’Ermitage in about half an hour.
He didn’t particularly want to do that, in fact, something inside him was gnawing at his chest trying to tell him no, but it would look a way to his colleagues and the papers if he didn’t stay for at least a couple of hours. He could bear the discomfort for a little while longer, he supposed, for optics sake.
Even after his talk with Quincy in the car, he still wasn’t completely settled. However, to distract from his discomfort, he made an effort to have a good time as per Quincy’s instructions (Although, he wasn’t sure why Quincy specifically saying so specifically made him want to obey so readily). He shared some dances with his friends and family, took pictures for the press, and answered some rapid fire questions about the night and Thriller in the press room.
His sensitivity to smells only increased as the night progressed. With alcohol and sweat so heavily and the mix now, pheromones were floating in the air with reckless abandon. His stomach turned, there was hardly a single corner in the whole hotel where he could escape it.
He shyly asked Janet for the time and an actual whimper actually slipped past his lips at the revelation that it had only been 45 minutes since his arrival, to which Janet immediately looked at him with concern.
“Are you ok, Mike? You don’t-.”
Michael gave her a thumbs up before she could finish, “A-ok!”
He turned quickly on his heel toward the door to the ballroom. To hell with this, he thought. He’ll just hide out in the bathroom for a while.
If he turned around to catch Janet’s concerned eyes, he would have noticed her sniffing the air and her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she connected the dots. She would have been able to warn him of what was soon to come if he only looked back.
Michael had only made it to the hallway when a sizable stomach cramp hit him. He held his stomach and kept moving but, after the first, they kept coming in quick succession. Thankfully, the hallways was vacant of any partygoers, so no one was around to see him soon crumble to his knees.
Things continued on for this for at least two minutes before the cramping lessened to a reasonable level that allowed him to move again. It was another two minutes before Michael was stuck using the wall for support as he made his way down the hall.
The music and conversation from the party had long since faded away to the tune of Michael’s overly loud heartbeat and his equally intense breathing. What the hell was wrong with him?
It was an eternity before Michael made it to a thankfully empty bathroom. He practically launched himself into a stall and buried his head in his hands with a moan. He even removed his sunglasses to make the task of blocking the light out easier. It wasn’t enough to simply dim the lights; he needed to relieve himself of the burden of sight entirely. He eventually shrugged off his blue military jacket and sash to hang on the complimentary hook on the back of the door as well.
His thigh began to bounce with all the speed of an inpatient rabbit as he tried to focus on something other than the volatile pain in his stomach. He could cry, he really, truly could. Biggest night of his career and here he was, shut inside of a stall in an admittedly really nice hotel bathroom.
It was at this time the buzzing under his skin decided to make itself known once more. Michael planted his cheek on the stall wall, hoping the chill of the metal would soothe him somewhat.
A temporary solution. Michael briefly considered stripping naked and seeing what that would do for him. He shook the thought out of his head. No, if someone were to walk in on him like this…
He whimpered, the embarrassment making him cramp up even more than before. Once he started, though, he couldn’t stop. The small space echoes with breathy moans and whines as he attempted to ride out this latest wave. And the buzzing, God, this unbearable buzzing!!!
Maybe a bed would do him good? If he had enough time between waves he could…
Michael ran a lazy hand over his pockets ignoring, or, trying to, at least, the way something in him wanted him to keep doing that as he searched for the room key he received a couple days prior. No luck. He must have left it with security, or worse, he lost the damn thing.
A particularly loud cry escaped him then. Of course, he’s already compromised, and now he’s found a way to compromise himself further.
Tears began to well up in his eyes. He should have just gone home. At least then he would be surrounded by scents he knew, albeit still overwhelming. He would have his bed, pillows, his specially selected blankets, and plush toys, all ice cold from being untouched for days. They were already arranged precisely how he knew he liked them too. It would be perfect!!
Michael cramped again… and again and again. What was this unbearable pain?
Under the sound of his cries, he nearly missed the sound of the bathroom door creaking open. He had enough sense to keep his noise to himself, but that didn’t stop whoever entered from taking pause once they crossed the threshold.
Michael’s head shot up. That was…
Quincy’s footsteps stopped just outside the stall Michael currently occupied, “Your sister sent me looking for you. Said you needed help.”
He gave the door a light knock.
“And, besides, your socks are reflectin’ pretty damn bad in this light.”
The revelation grounded Michael just long enough to make him laugh. He remembered insisting on the socks to match the gloves and the jacket. He had completely forgotten they would be a dead giveaway.
He undid the latch on the door and let Quincy get it the rest of the way open.
Michael felt so… small under Quincy’s inquisitive gaze as the older Alpha considered him. However, just underneath that feeling was another, something more primal, carnal even, that told him he was precisely where he was supposed to be.
“Janet’s right. You don’t look too hot.”
Quincy pressed a hand to Michael’s forehead and clicked his tongue. Michael pressed himself into the touch, that feeling from earlier only increasing.
He recalled a similar feeling earlier when they spoke in the car and Quincy had his hand on his thigh. That buzzing under his skin halted, if only but for a moment.
The buzzing rose… to his head. It was more pleasant than it had been all evening. He felt like he was swimming in a nice cool pool…
Yes, this is what he needed. This is-
“Hey, Mike, are you with me?”
Quincy had given Michael’s cheek a few light, rapid-fire taps, but Michael was too captivated by his inner world to respond. He simply continued to look up at him with something akin to stars in his eyes.
“OK, Michael, this is what’s gonna happen.” Quincy knelt down to his level, purposefully maintaining eye contact and keeping his hand on his cheek, “I’m gonna help you stand up and I’m gonna walk you to your room on the 8th floor, ok? Can you do that for me?”
Michael only gave him a hum in response. Quincy’s hand just felt oh-so nice on his face…
A few more rapid taps came, “Words, Michael. I need you to use your words.”
Oh…! That’s what Alpha wants from me!
“Ok, Q.” No, that wasn’t right…
Latoya had a guilty look on her face as Janet explained her perception of the night’s events to Quincy, “An Omega, Q. Just like me.”
For all intents and purposes, it made sense. For, as much time as Michael and he spent together one-on-one building rapport and getting comfortable with one another, and as easy as he appeared to mingle with people of all sub genders, there was always something Quincy noted as being a little off with the young star.
For example, during the Off the Wall sessions, and even during the Thriller sessions, it wasn’t uncommon for them to do overnights at the other’s studio. However, Quincy always noticed when Michael stayed at his, he always got particularly wound up around 5pm, and then again at 4am. He would disappear for a while, then come back ready to get back to work.
Once, during the sessions for Sunset Driver,Quincy caught him counting out miscellaneous pills in the hallway. Admittedly, Quincy acted with much less tack as he should’ve, accusing Michael of getting into such serious shit so young, and raising his voice as he did so. Michael had gone statue still, holding the Monday-thru-Sunday pill holder as if he had been caught taking from Quincy’s own medicine cabinet. Lord knows if Michael really wanted to get high, there was some serious shit leftover from some surgeries he had some years back that could really take him there. He made a mental note then to get rid of those residual medications.
“This kinda shit is life ruining, have you lost your rabid ass mind?!”
After some silence, Michael didn’t buckle under Quincy’s heated gaze. He instead insisted, “They’re from my doctor; I have to take them at the same time every day!”
If he was in any way offended by the accusations, he didn’t show it. In fact, he continued his diligent counting and acted like Quincy wasn’t even there, albeit with a slight shake in his hands.
Later, Michael would inform him the pills were a kind of scent blocker.
“I’ve always been sensitive to smells, ever since I was a boy. Too many smells make me nauseous,” he said with a sniff.
Now, Quincy supposes he was only telling a half-truth. If not nasal scent blockers, they had to be of the pheromone gland variety.
Then, there was the night they were cutting The Lady in My Life at the Hayvenhurst studio. Another overnight session, of course, and they were nearly done, something just wasn’t right.
Michael sang the outro beautifully, so the quality of the vocals wasn’t an issue. They wouldn’t have an issue with the mix and master either as, much like Quincy’s home studio, Michael’s was outfitted with the best equipment money could buy.
No, the problem was that they were lacking in feeling. Beautiful vocal is nothing without the proper feeling to back it up; It’s a basic performance principle!
After the umpteenth time of recording the outro, Quincy pulled Michael to the side and made quite possibly his most audacious request yet.
“Michael, I need you to beg for it.”
Michael went silent at the suggestion, but Quincy could tell he was quietly considering it. His pupils darted back and forth from the top of his eyes, and he started gently biting on the inside of his cheek.
“In front of you? And the others?”
Quincy turned, considering the question, “I mean… we’ll be on the other side of the glass. You can just close your eyes and pretend we ain’t here.”
Michael shook his head, “No, if we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it right.”
They ended up going around the studio making various adjustments: Quincy lowered the lights, Michael put on his sunglasses, and he put up a curtain between the glass and him to provide a more literal barrier.
Looking back on things now, it must’ve been easier than it would have been at any other time to sink into that headspace. It was long past 4am at this point so his medications must have started wearing off if not have fully worn off already. If he was taking suppressants for his scent, it was getting more likely by the second he was taking them for other things as well. If he’s been on them for as long as Quincy thinks he has.
Suddenly, the look Michael gave him that night made more sense.
“You were perfect, Mike.”
Michael had taken his sunglasses back off at this point. His face was completely flush as he avoided Quincy’s gaze.
“That was embarrassing… I don’t think I can do a second take of that.”
“Well, lucky for you, you don’t need to.” Quincy thoughtfully rubbed his chin, “Maybe we shorten the outro some, but that’s nothin’ a simple fade can’t fix.”
As Quincy went on about potential adjustments they could make, he noted Michael’s gaze returning to him from his periphery. At the time, Quincy assumed he was just trying to be attentive and only met his eyes occasionally.
Looking back, there was a slight fog over his eyes, heaviness in his breath. For but a moment, it appeared as though he might slump over.
Then Michael suddenly stood up, said, “I’m gonna take 5,” and left the room.
Quincy has read before that going into vulnerable or submissive headspaces like that so close to a heat can outright trigger it in the same way that an overly dominant or possessive headspace can trigger ruts (among a litany of other things) in Alphas in some cases. He knows for a fact Michael didn’t go into heat that night; He came back in 5 just like he said he would. Quincy, however, does recall a slight hint of cinnamon he previosuly thought he imagined.
He hadn’t imagined it. He knows this now.
“How long has Michael been on medication?”
Latoya’s eyes widened briefly in shock, but she answered honestly, “The last… I want to say almost 14 years. He’s never EVER missed a day of his pills.”
Quincy lowered his voice just in case there were any lurkers, “So why is he probably going into heat right now of all times?”
“They’ve upped his dose every year since he started presenting. Since Off the Wall, maybe even a little after that, it’s been almost every other month. I think he’s either aging out of this specific kind or he’s building a tolerance faster than he reasonably should be.” Latoya began fiddling with her fingers, “Usually, Omegas have at least a weeklong window between when they stop taking their pills and when the effects actually wear off. For Michael, it’s almost instantaneous. He’s usually on it, though. While he may not understand exactly what’s happening to him, he’s usually attentive enough that he knows it’s either time to take his pills or get a higher dose.”
“Christ…” Quincy rubbed the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb, “And you say he doesn’t exactly understand the symptoms of a heat?”
Latoya shook her head, “No. The first one was too chaotic. It happened in Tokyo during their Jackson 5 tour in ’74, on a plane, no less. They had to cancel all the dates there because of it. Everyone was scrambling during the flight, trying to make sure he had everything he needed and that he stayed calm so he didn’t work himself into a panic. If he did…”
Quincy’s heard the stories of Omegas going into heat either for the first time or well into their lives experiencing heats under duress. These are commonly referred to in medicine as “dry spells,” but actual Omegas prefer to refer to them by the acronym AODS (Acute Omega Distress Syndrome).
He’s been on planes with Michael. He’s as timid as timid comes, especially during takeoff and landing. Guy can’t sit still, he’s always touching something, trying to get up and move, or trying to talk Quincy’s ear off. If he started going into heat on a plane, cramped, already stressed out, probably not sleeping well because of the tour, and his hormones are all out of wack… Quincy cringed inwardly and Latoya made a face similar to what he was feeling back.
“And it’s not like we could turn the plane around; we were over the ocean!” Janet piped in then, “We all took turns holding Michael in shifts as he burnt up in our arms. His stress would spike if we left him for even a minute. He was practically immobile and showing warning signs of sinking into AODS. We spent our entire time in Tokyo trying to keep him from going into full blown shock.”
Quincy cursed and didn’t wait for Janet to finish the story. He turned around and immediately went to work looking for Michael, something agitated growing red and hot in his chest. It would be just like Michael to mischaracterize any feelings outside of the norm as something else or to just ignore it entirely in favor of doing something he deemed more important.
Like going to the Grammy’s Afterparty after a record-breaking night of wins.
Before Quincy even entered the bathroom, he heard noises. Noises so desperate and loud that, under any other circumstances, he would have assumed something else was happening without prior context.
Hell, something could still be happening, his brain helpfully supplied, prompting Quincy to push the door open.
Luckily, it was only Michael. Luckier still, it was Quincy that found him. Michael called him Alpha when he saw him. He couldn’t stand without assistance. He was definitely too far gone.
Although Quincy noted something close to a smile on Michael’s face as Quincy spoke to him. His body visibly relaxed and slumped once Quincy started giving instructions. That was a good sign.
Quincy grabbed the jacket and sash off the hook and started to drape them over Michael’s shoulders. He protested but Quincy softly shushed him.
“It’s only ‘til we get to the hotel room. Can you keep them on just for now, baby?”
Michael immediately ceased his protests, allowing Quincy to finish.
Quincy positioned himself under Michael, dragging one of his arms over his shoulders. He held Michael’s right hand and wrapped his free arm around this waist to keep him stable. Michael mewled at the contact an once Quincy finally got him to the hallway, he could smell just how much Michael was affected.
Cinnamon, clove, and vanilla filled the hallways instantaneously. He could feel Michael trying to get closer than they already were and trying specifically to get Quincy’s scent.
The journey to the elevator was fine, it was only a few feet away. It was the time spent within the small space that really tried Quincy’s soul.
“Please… Please, Alpha, I’m so hot.” Michael whispered, lips trying to find their way to Quincy’s neck, “Please, I can’t take it!”
“I know, I know, baby. Don’t worry, I’m gon’ get you to your room and get you nice and situated. Just hold on a little longer, ok?”
Quincy briefly released his grip from Michael’s wrist to check the young man’s forehead. He hissed and quickly removed his hand.
How has he already gotten hotter? It’s only been about 5 minutes!
Michael whimpered again, “Oh god… Please, please, please…”
As they passed the 6th floor, another unmistakable scent hit Quincy’s nose. Sweet as it comes, Omega Slick.
Oh, they were really in it now.
Quincy’s breath caught and he closed his eyes. They just needed to get back to the hotel room. They just needed to get back to the hotel…
Michael’s noises only increased in volume after the secretion. The begging amped up tenfold and Quincy considered for about 5 seconds how long it would take to get Michael off in the hallway. Ignoring the way his dick was getting harder the more Michael begged, they ventured out into the 8th floor.
“Won’t be too much longer, baby, I swear.”
Michael started grinding on Quincy’s thigh, moving his hips up and down slowly as Quincy fished in his pockets for the room key that had fallen out of Michael’s pocket in the car. His begging had become incoherent at this point. His lips finally found the older man’s neck and something about the incoherence of his mumbling joined with just the sheer heat of his breath and the vibrations on his skin…
Quincy could not get that door open fast enough.
He got Michael to the bed first, then doubled back to check the door to ensure it being locked.
He slowly began to strip. Loosening his bowtie, shrugging off his jacket…
Michael had already stripped down to his underwear and socks. Christ, he was already so soaked…
“Michael, I need you to answer me.”
That made him pause. He blinked at Quincy owlishly.
“Your words, Michael.” Quincy swallowed, “Please”
It could have been an eternity; it could have been 7 seconds. Either way, it was torture waiting for that semi-lucid, “Yes.”
Quincy was on him in seconds. His hand cradled the back of Michaels’s head as their lips locked. He moved it downward, more toward his neck to be conscious of his injury. Michael moaned into the kiss, his body already working to get closer to Quincy’s.
They separated briefly to breathe, a string of saliva linking them together. Michael was looking up at him in a way that made his stomach twist with need, that made his head spin.
He was looking up at him with those big doe eyes of his, half-lidded, and the whites of his eyes colored black with desire. His eyelashes fluttered oh-so prettily.
“You’ve needed this for so long, ain’t you?” Quincy started laying Michael back down, “On them thangs for 14 years, I couldn’t imagine.”
With every assertion Quincy made, he got a breathy, yet emphatic, “Yes!” in response.
“No one’s touched you like this yet, right? Quincy asked, a hand traveling down Michael’s torse, “Just me?”
“Never felt nothin’ like this… Let me show you what you’ve been missin’ out on.”
Quincy only gave Michael’s leaking cock a light squeeze through his underwear and he practically screamed.
He didn’t cum yet, of this Quincy was certain, but with the way Michael had been rutting on him earlier, it certainly wouldn’t take much.
Tears sprung into Michael’s eyes as the begging he had been doing earlier restarted, “Oh, please don’t tease! Please, it hurts, oh God, it hurts!”
“I know Mikey, don’t you worry. Alpha’s gonna take really good care of you.”
Quincy gave him a quick kiss before working the damp, white underwear along with his socks off Michael’s sweaty frame. Michael’s body shivered slightly at the newfound chill.
Quincy’s hand returned to Michael’s leaking cock and gave him a few strokes just to see how he’d react. Michael gasped so Quincy picked up the pace.
It was cute, watching Michael squirm under his touch. He wanted to buck his hips so bad, he could tell, but he was allowing Quincy to set the pace.
Michael’s hands found purchase in the sheets. He tossed his head back when Quincy started to thumb at the head of his cock.
“Poor thing,” he chastised. “All this and I’ve hardly done anything to you.”
Quincy gave the younger man’s cock a few particularly harsh tugs that made his breath catch. A particularly loud sigh followed after. He reached lower with his free hand, taking Michael’s balls and gently rolling them in his fingers.
He cycled through the motions like that. He tried slower to watch Michael’s back arch; he tried faster to see Michael’s attempts at self-control. When Quincy used his thumb to stroke the underside, that seemed to really bring him close to the edge.
“Alpha… Alpha, I’m gonna-.”
Michael didn’t finish his sentence, cut off by a loud series of moans as he came all over Quincy’s hand. Quincy didn’t let up, though. He continued to stroke him as Michael rode through the aftershocks.
“Just like that,” he muttered, “Keep on just like that.”
Once Michael’s breathing finally evened out, only then did Quincy release his length from his hold. He gave Michael a once over, waiting for a cue that he was ready to continue.
It came in the form of Michael holding his hand out for Quincy to take. He pulled Quincy closer so that the older man was towering on top of him.
“Need you… Please, I can’t take it!”
He spread his legs somewhat and chills ran amuck down Quincy’s spine when he noted the particularly pungent smell of slick increasing. When Quincy looked down, he watched it seep into the sheets.
In all his years, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen an Omega leak quite like this. Perhaps it was Michael’s youth and how well he took care of himself; perhaps it was having been on suppressants for a decade and a half, or a combo of both. Either way, Michael was absolutely captivating like this.
“You want me inside?” Quincy asked, inserting himself between Michael’s thighs.
He nodded emphatically, “Yes!”
Laying one hand on his chest for stabilization, Quincy got to work scissoring Michael open.
After a couple minutes of intentional scissoring, Michael’s whining began to increase. In contrast to how he acted when Quincy was getting him off prior, he kept moving his hips, completely unsure of what precisely he wanted from the movement.
Quincy gave him a warning tap on the thigh, “Hey, none of that.”
Michael whimpered but obeyed.
Quincy curled his fingers inside and was rewarded with a loud moan from Michael, “You like it when I do that?”
Michael nodded, Quincy did it again to equally loud, yet still positive, reception. God, he sounded so pretty when he moaned…
Eventually, Quincy removed his fingers from Michael’s sex. He could have transfixed on it clenching around nothing if he didn’t have more important matters to tend to.
There was no need to stroke himself to hardness, he was already aching for release. The rest of his body felt like it was buzzing with anticipation.
“Please, please, please…”
As Quincy slowly began to slide himself inside, Michael took him in with such ease and with such heat he grew slightly dizzy and the edges of his vision went black.
Michael keened, his back lifting off the bed the deeper Quincy descended.
“Hah.. Oh-Oh god, oh god-.”
“You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking me in so well.” Quincy leaned in and pressed a kiss to Michael’s lips. He wiped away the tears beginning to fill Michael’s eyes from the stretch with a single finger, “Let me know when I can move, ok?”
As Quincy awaited permission, he took the time to admire the beautiful body laid out before him.
Michael had that lean dancer’s build shaped by over two decades of discipline. (Maybe even too lean but that was a conversation for another time). The way he writhed and arched and grinded when Quincy so much as touched him…
He could probably get off on the sight alone.
“O-Ok.” That snapped Quincy from his gaze, “I’m ready.”
Quincy started slowly, allowing Michael to adjust to the foreign sensation. Once he was sure Michael could handle, it, he picked up speed with his thrusts.
“’m so full…! Yes, yes!” Michael looked up at Quincy, a new wave of tears filling his eyes, “Ungh, yes!”
Pride blossomed in Quincy’s chest. Yes, this is what he wanted. He wanted to make the pretty omega feel so good.
Quincy couldn’t begin to imagine the sensations going through Michael’s body. His reactions were so big, his voice further validating how good he felt.
He couldn’t recall the last time someone acted like this with him.
“Taking me so well, Michael. You’re doing so-so good for me!”
Quincy was sure if he could, Michael would be visibly preening at the praise. He couldn’t though, all he could do was moan helplessly.
Quincy readjusted the angle just a bit, lifting Michael’s hips some so he could drive in deeper. Michael threw his head against the pillow again with a cry and Quincy knew precisely what he had done.
“Right-Ri- oh! Yes, right-!”
Michael, for as composed as he was in front of cameras and on stage, was pleasantly the opposite of this in bed. It brought Quincy’s Alpha pride.
No one else had touched him like this. Quincy is the first and will likely be part of a very exclusive club going forward.
The thought made him drive his hips harder and deeper inside than he thought he was previously. He was practically growling as their skin slapped rhythmically together.
“So good… So-ah-good for me!”
Orgasm snuck up on them both. Quincy could tell Michael was reaching his peak again from the way his hips bucked and the way his hole tightened around Quincy’s length. He was so transfixed by his shocked cries, Quincy missed his own cues as he bottomed out inside.
No knot, though. He knows better.
Quincy pulled out slowly, already missing the Omegas warmth.
“You did so well, darlin’.” He pressed a kiss to Michael’s forehead, “Oh, and congratulations again on winning big tonight.”
If Michael wasn’t already halfway asleep, Quincy was confident he would have called him for that line.
Quincy started to consider the next few days for Michael. He would go in and out of waves for at least a week, give or take, before his hormones finally settle. If they don’t put him back on suppressants, his next one should be significantly less intense.
He brushed some stray hair from Michael’s face before climbing out of bed. He needed to let the girls know Michael was stable and to prepare transport to Hayvenhurst. He could handle everything here. They had, at maximum, five hours until the next wave hit. Maybe less, they needed to get going.
Quincy began to prepare Michael’s things, feeling more like a proper Alpha than he has in Lord knows how long. Getting to take care of an Omega during a special time such as this in the best way an Alpha could… There was nothing quite like it.
And Michael was special too; there was no denying that. Quincy took a moment to gaze at the beautiful young man, content and fucked out on the bed.
He still couldn’t get off the fact that no one had touched him like that. Quincy doesn’t think he’s ruined him for whomever he chooses to lie with after this, but there’s nothing quite like the first time, is there?
After an hour, Quincy gets confirmation from Janet that Bill is downstairs waiting. He gently shakes Michael awake. He’s still out of it. Not as hazy as he was in the bathroom, but still a bit loopy.
“We gotta to go. Bill is waiting downstairs.”
Michael takes a moment to process the words coming out of Quincy’s mouth. With his eyes twinkling like stars courtesy of the moon shining through the open window near the bed, a content smile stretched across Michael’s face as he gave Quincy a warm, low, “Yes, Alpha.”
