[looking at people younger than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at people older than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at myself] its over
masterlist 𓈒▐ 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮. after a particularly rough rehearsal that has michael exhausted, you show him exactly how much you appreciate him. ▐ bad era!michael being a total sub! we cheer! → handjob, lil bit of choking, wet and messy kisses, some dry humping?, cum eating, praise and degradation kink, desperate!michael ₊⊹
You sensed Michael's presence soon before you heard him.
The soft click of the door, as if he thinks he'll wake you up from deep slumber, then a sigh, equally innocent and sweet, even though deeply exhausted. Michael taking off his shoes and shrugging his jacket off, the soft clicks of his chunky belt echoing through the otherwise quiet house.
The sound of his keys hitting the wooden surface of the cabinet down the hall, then the heavy footsteps, his feet barely lifting off the floor as he took the stairs with one thing on his mind:
You.
He was looking forward to the moment he would see you again the whole day. It was a sweet motivation that pushed through the demanding rehearsals, keeping him in your head as the dancers made yet another mistake in the choreo they've been practicing for two months now. Maybe he was too harsh on himself and the people working for him, or maybe he was just stressed. Stressed by the lack of your company, your touch, grounding and comforting in a way that had his mind calm and relaxed. Stressed by the fact that tour was starting soon, and nothing was even close to perfection yet.
Nothing but the calmness of the house and your sweet presence that lights his heart up.
The bedroom door clicked softly, and Michael's ears perked up as he saw you, comfortable and spread out on your shared bed, eyes meeting his before he could say a thing. You smiled, soft and warm, your nose crinkling in the most perfect way as you did so, eyes wide and attentive as you took in his exhausted posture.
The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the moon peeking through the curtains and the TV playing some shitty, old school show you didn't care about one bit. The moonlight hit your face in the most perfect way, highlighting the color of your eyes and hair, spread around your head like a halo.
Michael's knees buckled as he took you in, grinning despite exhaustion, his arms spreading out and claiming the space without even trying.
"Hi, superstar," You grinned, getting up from the bed to greet him with a hug that meant more than any fame or fortune in the world. Your small arms wrapped around his back, face squishing into his chest to breathe him in, letting his scent cloud your mind.
"I hate you calling me that," He chuckled softly, cradling your head in his hand, bringing you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Michael hid his nose in your hair, taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo and something different — something so ultimately you, it brought him comfort immediately. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, Mikey." You breathe out, gently petting his back. "How're the rehearsals going?"
Michael shrugged, kissing the top of your head, suddenly aware of the tension in his shoulders and back. God, he could use a massage right now.
"Some dancers have trouble remembering the steps. You know, it's... normal. It should be. But it just keeps on annoying me, y'know? I need everything to be perfect by the time tour starts, and instead everything is falling apart right in front of me." He said, slow and shameful, not quite used to being this honest and open, not in that way.
You slowly pulled away from his chest, lips pouted in that specific way that insinuated you were thinking deep about what he had said. You took his hand slowly from where it was rubbing the small of your back through the red t-shirt you were wearing (stolen from Michael's side of the closet). His eyes followed your joined hands, watching as you kissed his knuckles, soft and warm, instantly calming his bubbling nerves and sweating hands.
"Mike, you need to take thing easy." You tilted your head, head turned towards the bed as you slowly led him to climb onto the warm sheets, the mattress moaning under your joined weights.
"I don't ever take things easy."
"That's why I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath. Relax. I know you crave perfection, but baby, things take time. They're eventually gonna get it, it's gonna be fine." You said softly, not trying to disregard his feelings, just being as supportive as you can.
Michael's lips pursed as he leaned back against the headboard, thinking about what you said with careful consideration. He met your eyes with a boyish, gentle smile, patting his lap softly.
"Sit here? Pretty please."
Michael had this innocence in his gaze, and you knew immediately he felt vulnerable in his heart. You took him in: the disheveled hair on the top of his head, loose strands breaking free from his ponytail and falling onto his forehead and eyes. The way his hands reached out to you, like a little kid looking for comfort. The red shirt that sat perfectly on his torso, first few buttons unlocked, droplets of build-up sweat glistening on his chest and neck.
He looked so exhausted, but oh, so beautiful.
You climbed onto his lap, and Michael's arms wrapped around your waist before you had a chance to fully settle. His chest expanded as your legs bracketed his, your smaller body melting into his much bigger one naturally.
"Besides...," You continued, a hint of tease in your voice as you settled in the moment, gentle hands pushing the stray strands of hair away from his face. "No one could ever dance as good as you do."
Michael laughed, the tiniest of tension dripping from his shoulders as he squeezed your waist. He missed this. The warmth coming from your whole body, the comforting touch on his face that kept reminding him of home, those sweet lips of yours that had the ability to make him blush like a teenager.
"That's a bit overboard."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"Michael, you're the most talented person in the whole world. And I mean it." You narrowed your eyes at him.
He sighed at the praise, melting underneath the weight of your body, his own going slack as your slow, steady hands played with his hair. You curled a piece around your finger, tugging on it ever so gently, causing Michael's hands to twitch on your waist. He not so secretly loved when you did this.
All of the praises he got from his peers and colleagues could never bring him this much joy. This, here, with you, felt real: no fake sympathy, respect that meant nothing behind the closed doors, bows and applauses that didn't matter at the end of the day. This, you, was authentic, real, a connection that was worth more than any fame or respect in the world. He knew that.
"I love you. You're working too hard," You whispered, quieter now, and Michael's long fingers tightened on your waist just a fraction. "I'm so proud of you, baby."
"You're so beautiful. Like an angel. Always taking my breath away," You continued, your fingers tracing the sharp edge of Michael's jaw, then moving up his nose, careful, a small smile playing on your lips as Michael's body twitched underneath you, unconsciously seeking more of the attention. The praises travelled through his whole body, a deeply settled insecurity regarding his appearance slowly melting away as he took in your awed expression.
"Keep— keep talking. Please." He swallowed, leaning into your touch, his face inches away from yours now, embarrassment flooding his body as he felt his cock twitch in his pants.
You felt it, too. Suddenly very aware of your core pressed tightly against his crotch, something you ignored in the moment of fondness but prominent now. You tutted as Michael's arms tightened around your back, breath shallow and eyes clouded with devotion and something deeper beyond the surface — desire.
"You like it when I talk about how pretty you are?" He nodded, desperate, his face rubbing against your palm lovingly. "You are, Mikey. Everything about you is perfect. Like a work of art, only for me to admire, to love, to cherish. I love your eyes. How you look at me like I'm the only one that matters, even in a room full of people. This pretty little nose...," You pecked the tip of it, earning a nervous giggle from Michael. His cheeks turned rosy as you kissed the soft skin there, giving him all of your undivided attention to prove your point. "Those lips. Drive me insane. This beautiful smile, yeah, this one—"
You starting laughing as Michael's lips pressed tightly against yours, heightening your arousal that slowly started to spread across your body as you praised him. His cock jumped in his pants at the sound of your voice, your smile against his lips, that beautiful melody that's your laugh echoing through the room.
Michael whimpered into the kiss, quiet and unfiltered, his hips flexing underneath you as he tugged on your — his — shirt covering your body, already craving the feel of your bare skin against his.
You used your tongue to part Michael's lips, and he obeyed immediately, moaning into your mouth as you licked your way into his, completely taking control over the kiss. You knew Michael needed this, needed the adrenaline that comes with being desired. His brows furrowed as he sinks further into the sheets, hips rising off the mattress to search for the warmth of your sweet cunt on his achingly hard cock.
"I need you, baby—" He sighed into your mouth, and you sucked on his tongue, humming lowly while your hips began to move on their own, the buildup of your desire leaving you grinding down onto his cock. You could feel the outline of him through his pants, big and aching and ready for whatever you'd give him, ready to burst from a simple touch. "O-oh, angel girl—"
"Feels good?" You moan, leaving a wet spot on Michael's pants where you connected over and over again, not pulling away from a second. You fought with the urge to close your eyes, instead tugging on Michael's hair to get him to look at you, at the effect he had on you. "Of course it does. My good boy, always so obedient. What do you think your fans would say if they saw you like this— oh— completely at my mercy? What would they say, Mikey?"
You grinded harder, your hips working in tandem with Michael's, your bodies singing in a beautiful harmony without even trying. Your own words turned you on beyond belief, and they seemed to have the same effect on Michael.
"'m your good boy," He whispered, low and pathetic, his hands shaking with restraint as they rested on your thighs, squeezing and fondling the skin there. "Wanna be good for ya, that's all I want to do, baby—"
"What do you want?" You asked, sharp and firm, your voice dropping lower as your hands travelled down Michael's torso, playing with the buttons of his shirt and undoing them, one by one, slower than Michael would like it. The fabric felt like a barrier, a burden on his skin that was aching to be pressed against yours, but he let you take things slow, instead focusing on playing with the hem of your own shirt.
"Ah, ah, ah," You tutted, hand rising up to rest against Michael's throat, not quite squeezing, just resting there, feeling his pulse against your small palm. He let out a pained sound, half-whisper, half-sob, his hands dropping to his sides and tangling into the sheets. "No touching. Yeah, good boy. You like it when I choke you a little?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes," He groaned, teeth grinding together as you squeezed his throat experimentally, seeing just how far he's willing to take it, and to your surprise, he whined again, surer this time, hips bucking up just a fraction before dropping to the mattress.
"Yeah, you do," You smiled, biting your bottom lip as your hips faltered just a fraction, hips shaking with effort as your high creeped up on you, sudden and unexpected.
And so you stopped.
Michael's loud groan echoed through the room, annoyed, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. The way he looked at you then sent a shiver down your spine.
Devoted. Completely and utterly under your spell.
Yet still he didn't move. Didn't say a word, didn't rush you, his eye whites showing as he looked at you pitifully, breathing shallow and unsteady.
"What do you want, Mikey? Use that pretty little mouth of yours," You whispered softly, hands moving down his torso to move his shirt out of the way, scratching his skin with your nails with enough pressure to make him hiss.
Your palm experimentally moved over the aching bulge in his pants, feather-like and soft, and it only made Michael's hips buck up into your touch.
"I— I need to feel you— I can't wait anymore," He babbled, words leaving his mouth in a hurry. You rewarded him with a small flick of your hand as it rubbed up and down his length with pressure that was not nearly enough. "Oh God— And I want you to keep talking to me. About how— p-pretty I am— and how proud you are of me— You always take such good care of me, baby, please—"
You smiled, sliding off Michael's lap only to tug on his belt, and he understood immediately what you wanted. His hands shook as they unbuckled the heavy thing, fumbling with the zipper of his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers, not bothering to ask for permission.
His cock sprang free from the confines of his clothing, bobbing in the air freely and then hitting Michael's stomach with a wet sound. He whined — soft, desperate. You could see the effort it took for him to not touch himself, not give into the feeling until you made a move, allowed it.
"So pretty, so, so fucking beautiful," You whispered, taking in the sight in front of you with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. You didn't lie; every inch of Michael was perfect, starting with his perfectly sculpted face, to his lean body, strong thighs, and the cock that sat between them. He was big, flushed, looking as if a simple touch from you could make him come. It looked painful, and you only cooed at the sight.
"Want me to touch you, angel face? Want to cum so bad, don't you, sweetie?"
"Yes, God, yes," He breathed out, and you wasted no time climbing back into his lap, straddling one of the very thighs that drove you insane. Your pussy rubbed against Michael's soft, brown skin as you sat down, leaning in to peck his lips.
"Please."
The way he said it, soft and sweet, his mouth instinctively chasing after yours, made you smile. You kissed him again, slower this time, your fingers tracing soft circles on the skin of his thigh, dangerously close to his aching, throbbing cock.
"So good for me. You can touch me, baby— Yeah, take what you need," You praised him softly, finally giving him the permission to touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips. Slowly, almost painfully so, your palm reached its destination. Michael's own hands travelled up your body, one hand resting on the small of your back, the other sliding up to hold your hair out of your face while you kissed him. His touch was firm but delicate, claiming your body without taking control, letting you take the initiative without a word of protest.
Your fingers wrapped around his girthy cock with undeniable precision, the one that came from knowing his body way too well. Michael whined into your mouth, his hips bucking up into your palm, a soft cry leaving his mouth right after. He was on edge, and you knew it.
"Such a good boy. You're doing so perfect for me, look at how well you're taking me," You whispered against his lips, your hand beginning to stroke him slowly, your wrist flicking in a way that you knew drove Michael crazy. Your thumb rubbed against his sensitive slit with each movement, and Michael sighed, eyes rolling back into his head.
Your lips disconnected as soon as you began your little demonstrations on his dick, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you long after he pulled away. His head fell back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust and ultimate devotion.
"So good, ma," He whined, licking his lips as you sped up, just enough to make him dizzy and hot. Michael's body shook underneath you, his hold on you tightening just a fraction, letting you know just how much he enjoyed it.
"I know, baby, you're so hard for me, so fucking big. You're practically drooling, that's what a little attention does to you, huh? Falling apart so prettily for me. You're so pathetic it's cute," You said, voice fond and affectionate even when your words did nothing but humiliate him. Michael's body shook as your hand became a blur, your pace suddenly changed into something charged with animalistic desire — desire to watch him fall apart.
"I'm so close, don't you—"
"I know, angel boy, I'm not stopping, I'm right here—"
"I love you so much, oh God, I love you—"
"What do you need, Mikey?" You flicked your wrist in the right way, watching his face confront in pleasure, your hand beginning to hurt from the rough, demanding pace you've set. You couldn't stop, though, no: not when Michael's hips began to thrust up into your hand and his soft sobs echoed through the room.
"Can you— can you put your hand there— oh— jus' need a little more," He silently begged with his eyes, interlocking your fingers with his and bringing them to his neck. You immediately knew what was going on.
He truly needed for you to choke him in order to reach his peak.
And so you obeyed. You applied a little pressure to his pulse point, squeezing the sides of his throat in the most delicious way, feeling his Adam's apple bob as you did.
You squeezed harder, checking Michael's face for any type of discomfort, but all you could see was utter, devoted pleasure. His eyes rolled back into his head, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his chest glistened in the moonlight, heaving with every, choked up breath he took. The feeling of your hand on his dick was like no other: your grip was as tight as a glove, not as tight as your pussy, but enough to make him lose his mind.
"You like it when I do this, don't you?" You punctuated your words with a tight squeeze to the base of his cock and his throat, pulling his foreskin down to have him as sensitive as possible. Michael whined — a pained, desperate sob from somewhere deep in his chest that made your pussy throb against his leg. "You carry the whole world on your shoulders. You work so hard. Let me take care of you the way you deserve, baby."
"I'm right there," He moaned through another sob that shook his whole body, his hand clawing at the one squeezing his throat. He wasn't trying to push you away, just anchoring himself in the moment, needing to feel the warmth of your skin against his palm. "I'm right there, angel—"
"Yeah, take it. Take it like a good boy, that's right—"
Your hand movements became a blur, palm hitting his lower abdomen with every stroke, every squeeze to his length, bursting and twitching in your palm. He wouldn't need much to unravel, and you knew it.
"C-can you kiss me, baby? Please, I need to—"
You wouldn't let him finish, immediately crashing your lips onto his with force that pushed the air out of his lungs. Michael immediately granted you access to the inside of his mouth, moaning and whimpering, loud and unfiltered, completely consumed by the pleasure surging through his body. The kiss was messy, your saliva mixing and stretching between your willing mouths when you pulled away for a breather. It dropped between you, right onto the tip of his cock, and Michael hissed, his whole body shaking as he neared that familiar peak.
"Come for me, angel boy," You whispered, knowing just how much he loved the nickname, your hand moving from his throat to grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back to watch every moment of his pleasure.
"I'm coming, ma, I can't hold it, I'm—"
"Yeah, good boy, such a good fucking boy, give it to me—"
Michael's back arched off the mattress, hips bucking wildly as his own body betrayed him, a gasp that sounded pained leaving his swollen lips. The first spurt of his white, sticky seed made you chuckle, watching him make a mess of himself. Your hand movements never slowed — not for a second, guiding him through the moment, your lips crashing onto his in a mess of saliva and teeth clashing, but neither of you cared. Michael pulled you closer by the hips, his grip almost painfully tight, his cum staining his expensive shirt, your hand and his chest. It was messy, and it was perfect, and it was never ending — a spurt after spurt, each one weaker than the last, but nonetheless intense.
"So good, let it out, just like that, baby," You cooed softly, continuing to stroke him through every aftershock, and Michael cried out, overstimulated to the limit, his whole body trembling underneath you.
"I can't— take no more," He whispered, soft, broken, some fresh tears staining his tears, and he looked so beautiful you wanted nothing more than to devour him whole.
"It's okay, angel face, it's okay."
"I love you. I love you so much, baby, you're doing so good," You stopped your movements altogether, even though his cock still stood tall, some droplets of cum leaking from his tip, and you collected them with the pad of your finger, bringing them to your lips with a moan. Michael sobbed softly, following the movements of your mouth with his teary eyes as you sucked on your finger, licking the remains of his cum theatrically, with intention to drive him insane again.
"Tastes so good, too. Want to try?" You moaned, and Michael's hands tightened on your thighs just a fraction, offering you a shy nod of his head.
You took two of your fingers, then, dragging them through the mess he made on his chest, collecting some of the pearly cum and immediately bringing them to his lips. You padded on Michael's bottom lip, and he obeyed immediately, granting you access. His tongue lolled out, eyes wide and cheeks rosy as your fingers snuck into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue only to watch him squirm and moan.
"Good boy. Don't you taste fucking good?" You tilted your head as Michael's lips wrapped around your digits, his brows furrowing as the tasted himself on you.
Michael both hated and loved how much this aroused him.
You caressed his cheek slowly, lovingly, watching as he came down, finding comfort in the weight of your fingers on his tongue. He eventually came down, his body melting into the mattress as he settled. You slowly withdrawed your digits, bringing Michael closer and letting him rest his head on your chest. Your unsteady heartbeat was the only thing he could focus on.
"I love you," He mumbled lowly, his face rubbing against your t-shirt in a way that immediately made you melt. "I love you, I love you, I love you—"
You laughed, out of breath, kissing the crown of his head lovingly. "And I love you. Feeling better?"
You caressed his hair, letting him wrap his arms around you and bring you impossibly closer.
"Never better."
a/n: i apologise. or not. planning to make him even whinier and more pathetic in the upcoming fics. not sorry for that either.
thinking about holding thriller era!michael’s hand while giving him a handjob, watching his pretty, aroused face as he tries not to cum too quickly. the slick, wet sounds of your hands stroking him along with your little moans and hums of satisfaction are driving him crazy.
rubbing your hand on the side of his neck and face, telling him soft praises of how beautiful he is, how much you adore him and how you’ll always be there for him will have him melting, gasping and letting out small needy whines as you start to swirl your fingers around his tip.
start kissing him and massaging his hand in your grip along with that and he’s whimpering loudly now into your mouth, telling you to stop, how he “can’t hold it anymore” and that he loves you before completely messing up his chest and your hand. after some aftercare he would probably shyly ask if he was being too loud aah
SUMMARY: An innocent movie night takes a turn when Michael becomes a little too distracted by your touch.
CONTENT: 18+, ???, sexual themes, kinda smutty I guess but nothing beyond a sloppy makeout sesh and heavy petting, very much puppy love vibes, inexperienced thriller era! Michael, subby michael I don’t make the rules, dry humping, he might be shy but that boy can’t keep his mouth shut! he’s a moaning mess
AUTHOR’S NOTE: @hcwait said something about michael being so shy he’d cover his mouth or bite his finger to keep from making noise and I said SAY LESS.
You didn’t even realize you were doing it— tracing gentle patterns into the denim right above Michael’s knee.
You were sat next to each other watching a movie with your limbs intertwined, and it’s like you didn’t even notice your thumb aimlessly rubbing against his leg— gliding across the rough surface of his jeans as your eyes stayed trained on the tv in front of you.
But he noticed. He noticed right away.
The second your hand fell on his knee his whole body froze.
It was motionless at first, just your palm resting gently on his leg. Then the stroking started. Your thumb moving in tender motions— back and forth— teetering dangerously toward the inside of his thigh.
It was so innocent, just a simple swipe of your fingers against his skin, not even his skin— his jeans. Only a sweet display of affection over clothing, yet it made him feel so excited.
He looked over at you— once, twice— checking to see if there was any slight change in your facial expression, any little shift in your body language that could lead him to think you were doing it on purpose. That maybe— just maybe—you were teasing him, just as hungry for more as he was.
His eyes fell down to his leg, your hand still resting above his knee, thumb still eroding away at the dark denim adorning his skin.
He wanted more. Needed more.
Without letting himself think about it, he placed a hand on your leg, allowing his palm to rest there, melting into the warmth of your thigh. He rubbed his thumb back and forth mimicking your movements.
It caught your attention immediately. It wasn’t like Michael to do something so bold.
The two of you had been taking things slow— really slow— respecting each other’s boundaries and getting to know one another in other, less physical, ways. You’d been patient, waiting for his signals, following his lead. Waiting for him to make all the first moves. His hand bravely perched on your thigh felt like some kind of long awaited approval. Like an invitation.
When you turned your head in his direction you expected to see him looking at you— waiting for your reaction. Instead, you were met with his side profile, his eyes fixed on the screen across the room, his hand still making gentle motions on your leg. He seemed calm, cool, collected.
But you could hear it— his quick shallow breaths— the way each exhale trembled as it left his lips.
He was nervous.
It was sweet.
You inched your hand up his leg ever so slightly, continuing to draw circles into his jeans.
Gently squeezing, you let your thumb slide lower toward the inside of his thigh. His body tensed. His chest filling with a single deep inhale as you watched him stare at your hand traveling recklessly close to his crotch.
His eyes shot up to meet yours, his flustered gaze hiding between the careful, slow blinks of his lashes.
Neither of you said a word. Neither of you looked away.
Your bodies were already so close together— his arm around your shoulder, your thighs smushed against each other— it made it impossibly easy to shift your weight until you were straddling his lap with each of your legs coming to rest on the sunken cushions beneath you.
A groan began to bubble from Michael’s chest at the sudden change of position. But the sound didn’t make it far, dissipating at the feeling of your body hovering over his.
You melted against him, hips colliding, causing him to choke on a whine as soon as he felt the friction.
“This ok?” The words left you in a whisper as you pressed your forehead against his.
As your hands found the curls at the nape of his neck, he nodded to your question before closing the gap between your lips.
His kiss was fueled by deliberation and impulse as his mouth moved with yours. His usual timid demeanor began to slip further away as your fingers tangled deeper into his curls, eliciting a soft whimper from his lips. Your hips moved against him at the sweet vibration of his moans on your tongue.
You kept the motion of your hips tame— just barely moving back in forth with the rhythm of the kiss, but your fingers moved wildly in Michael’s hair. Each gentle tug threatened a soft gasp from the man beneath you.
His hands stayed at his sides, fingertips scratching against his jeans— aching to hold you— to feel you.
You pulled away from his mouth long enough to utter a breathless invitation, “Michael. You can touch me.”
Meeting his lips again, you smiled into the kiss as you felt his hands come to rest on your body. His hold was tight on your hips, fingers pressing into your sides as he guided your body over his.
With both of you moving in tandem desperation for friction, you trailed your lips toward his jaw. Your mouth against his skin was wild and messy, mirroring the movement of your hips. Your lips were busy on his neck, kissing and sucking, and then-
The filthiest, most pathetic groan you’d ever heard slipped out of Michael’s mouth.
It was as if all the little noises he’d been fighting back were no match for the way your lips met that sensitive spot just under his jaw.
The sound only encouraged you, sending you on a desperate pursuit for more, but you noticed one of his hands leave your hips. It traveled up to his face, stopping at his mouth, acting as a muffle for the unruly sounds of pleasure seeping from his throat.
Your hips gyrated, the friction causing you both to grip and grab. Your fingers tangled into his hair and you could swear he was biting his palm to keep from groaning.
“You sound so pretty Michael.”
Your praise melted into his skin, each word fluttering against his neck, and as soon as it left your lips his hand was back on you, pulling at your hips.
A symphony of soft moans and instinctive whines filled the room as he let your flattery feed his liberation. No longer caring about keeping his cool or staying quiet, he set every noise free as he guided your body to grind onto his.
Your lips continued their descent on his neck, following a path to his collarbone. Meanwhile, his hands found their way to the hem of your t-shirt, gently pushing the material up just enough to feel the bare skin of your back. His touch was heavy yet tender, like he was starving but willing to wait an eternity just for a taste.
They traveled up your spine, savoring every inch of your soft skin under his fingers until-
The distant sound of a car door closing outside made you both jump.
His hands instinctively flew back to your hips as you pried your lips from his neck— both of your chests heaving and heads buzzing while you listened to the cackles of his brothers in the driveway.
So caught up in the heat of the moment, you’d forgotten all about his family and the fact that your time alone was limited.
The front door flew open, as voices traveled into the living room. You barely rolled off of michael, keeping a leg slung over his lap and a hand still in his hair as Tito and Marlon laughed their way into the kitchen.
“We could go upstairs…” Michael’s voice was quiet, each word soft and breathless, his chest still rising and falling at an ungodly pace.
“You don’t want to finish the movie?” Your question oozed with sarcasm as you watched Michael’s head dip in a giggle.
“C’mon.”
He was pulling you off the couch with a quick tug of your hand, both of you a mess of smitten glances and flustered chuckles as you practically raced each other up the stairs.
⋮ ⌗ ┆ summary: gentlemen can still get their dicks sucked. michael thinks he’s exempt because you’re too pretty. AHNT! wrong.
⋮ ⌗ ┆ smut, oral sex (male receiving), a very shy and flustered michael because I genuinely don’t think he’d be any way else at this age, female reader. wrote this with the “it’s wonderful day!” interview in mind.
Michael isn't sure how he got in this predicament.
One second she'd been curled against him on the bed, tracing lazy shapes against his chest while the television hummed quietly somewhere in the background. The next, her lips were brushing against his ear, soft and plush and devastatingly warm, whispering something sweet as melted honey that made his stomach flip straight into his ribs.
He didn't even fully process the words, only the feeling of all the blood from his head rushing straight to his pants.
A featherlight breath against his skin.
A little kiss tucked just beneath his ear.
The way her voice wrapped around him slow and warm, making him melt before he even realized he was melting. And somehow after that, she was on her knees between his legs.
Michael sat frozen at the edge of the mattress, staring down at her with wide brown eyes while she looked up at him like he'd hung the stars himself. The lamp beside the bed washed everything amber gold, catching in the blush already flooding his cheeks and the nervous shine of his bitten lips.
She looked downright lovesick.
The kind of gaze that made his pulse scramble like frightened birds in a cathedral. Her pupils looked enormous beneath her lashes, soft and syrupy and practically heart shaped with how fond she seemed of him. It made him duck his head immediately, one hand flying up to cover his face as a helpless laugh escaped through his trembling fingers.
“Baby..” he laughed weakly, voice embarrassingly breathless. “Don't look at me like that...”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause...” He peeked at her through his fingers only to instantly regret it when she smiled. “You know why.”
Her hands settled on his thighs then, thumbs smoothing absent little circles against the fabric of his jeans while his knees twitched under her touch. Michael inhaled sharply, shoulders pulling inward with shy tension as she started inching upward, slow enough for him to want to instinctively close his thighs as his stomach tightened when her fingers brushed his belt.
“Can I taste what's in here, angel face?” she spoke softly, tilting her head.
Michael made the tiniest strangled sound. Immediately his head tipped back with embarrassment, curls tumbling across his forehead. “Don't say things like that..”
“Like what?” she asked, all faux innocence and sparkling eyes.
“Those cute names when you're being..” He swallowed hard. “..dirty.”
A grin tugged at her lips. “I think you like it.”
Michael shook his head too fast to be believable. “N-no! I’m a gentleman.”
“Liar.” Her fingers hooked lightly into his belt loops now, teasing without actually pulling. The anticipation alone had him squirming beneath her touch, one leg bouncing nervously while he tried very hard to avoid looking directly at her.
It didn't help that she looked beautiful like this.
Too beautiful, and the thought escaped before he could stop it.
“You're too pretty to be down there..” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Messin' with something so.. perverted.”
She blinked up at him, trying not to laugh. “Perverted?”
Michael groaned softly and buried his entire face in both hands this time. “Please don't make me repeat stuff.. I’m really shy..”
The sound of her laughter was gentle, fond. She leaned forward just enough for her cheek to brush against his knee affectionately, and Michael nearly folded in on himself from the sheer tenderness of it.
“You’re shaking, Mikey..” Her hands left his belt slowly.
For a second Michael thought maybe she'd noticed how overwhelmed he was getting. The poor boy could barely breathe correctly anymore, all flushed cheeks and twitching thighs and nervous little laughs muffled behind his hands.
But then she reached for one of them.
Michael peeked through his fingers just in time to see her guiding his larger hand into her lap, her own looking impossibly small wrapped around it. Long fingers. Elegant fingers. The kind that belonged behind piano keys beneath stage lights.
“Mama..” he whispered, already embarrassed again.
She ignored him completely and instead, she turned his hand over gently and pressed a kiss to the tip of his thumb and Michael visibly melted.
Another kiss landed against his index finger.
Then his middle.
Then the next.
Slow little kisses. Unhurried and affectionate enough to make his pants feel unbearably tight. Michael stared down at her in stunned silence, lips parted slightly while heat crawled all the way down his neck. This was almost worse than the teasing because it was too sweet. Way too sweet.
His thighs shifted restlessly beneath her as she kissed the tip of his pinky last, eyes never leaving his face once— she was watching every single reaction bloom across him in real time.
Michael tried to hide again instinctively, but she still had his hand still holding him there. Her gaze dropped briefly and she took his longest finger gently between her lips, and Michael forgot how to breathe for a solid three seconds because all he could focus on was her mouth.
The softness of it. The shine of it. The way her plush lips looked wrapped around his finger while she looked back up at him through her lashes. She started sucking, bobbing her head up and down on the digit as her tongue swirled a little too good around the flesh.
Michael sucked in a shaky breath so suddenly it almost sounded painful. His free hand immediately covered his face again, utterly overwhelmed.
“Hoh, God..” he laughed weakly into his palm, voice trembling around the edges. His thighs tried to cave inward again, only stopping because she was still between them.
And she looked entirely too pleased about that fact.
This time her hand slid upward, fingers disappearing into the curls at the nape of his neck gentle and possessive in the softest way possible. She tugged him downward carefully, and Michael followed without resistance, folding toward her like he was helpless against gravity whenever she touched him like this. One of his hands caught against the mattress beside her head to steady himself.
He looked unbearably pretty up close with his flushed cheeks, heavy lashes and hips parted slightly from nervous breathing.
And still shy. Still hiding little fragments of his face from her whenever she looked at him too lovingly for too long. Her thumb brushed along his jaw and Michael's eyes fluttered shut the second her lips met his.
When she pulled back barely an inch, his eyes opened slowly. Dazed. She smiled at him so fondly it nearly finished him off right there. “Can I make you feel good, my angel?” she asked softly.
He ducked his head immediately, forehead nearly falling against her shoulder while a breathless giggle escaped him in pure embarrassment. “You already are..” he mumbled shyly.
Moments of movement and shuffling pass before Michael's breathing is completely uneven now.
Every inhale came sharp through parted lips, every exhale trembling back out because he couldn't quite steady himself anymore. His face stayed turned away half the time, curls falling over his eyes while little helpless sounds kept slipping from him no matter how hard he tried to swallow them down.
“Mm.. mm—baby.. baby—” The words barely even sounded intentional. More instinct than speech as his fingers flexed uselessly against the sheets beside him before curling tight enough to wrinkle the fabric. A second later they were in his hair instead, tugging lightly at the curls near his temple while he whines under his breath in disbelief. A completely overwhelmed sound, genuinely not able process how good this felt.
Her tongue swirls around the sensitive head of his pretty mauve flushed brown tip, the wet warmth of her mouth enveloping him completely. Her small hands grip his base firmly, matching the rhythm of her mouth’s movements.
Michael squeezed his eyes shut again, brows pulling together while another soft moan escaped him, quieter this time. Almost ashamed of itself with pink flooding across his cheeks, lips parted helplessly and chest rising too fast beneath the open collar of his shirt.
Every little reaction crossed his face openly before he could hide it. And god, he kept trying to hide it. Every time a sound slipped out, he’d duck his head immediately afterward, one hand covering his mouth like maybe he could physically stop himself from making another. It never worked.
“Please..” he whispered at one point, though it didn't even sound like protest. More like he was overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of being wanted this way.
Her mouth is filled with the prettiest cock she’s ever had— slender but long, with a graceful curve that hits the back of her throat perfectly. And such a precious shade of cooked honey, the head thick and smooth. His pelvic area is impossibly smooth, completely hairless and perfectly groomed. She can see every detail of his erection without obstruction; the way his shaft rises from the clean shaven pelvis as her hands run over his smooth pubic bone, feeling how soft the skin is stretched tight over the area.
Another broken little moan caught in his throat.
Michael swallowed hard afterward, eyes glassy when they fluttered open again. He looked almost distraught from pleasure alone now.
“This is so..” He exhaled shakily, unable to finish the sentence.
Dirty.
Dirty and deply intimate in a way that made his stomach twist itself into knots. Michael looked almost painfully pretty like this. Completely unraveled by tenderness and desire all at once. Every soft sound leaving him admittedly was very pathetic and he couldn't understand how he’d ended up here at all. With a beautiful girlfriend who likes, no—loves him enough to put his.. thing in her pretty mouth. They’ve been intimate before this, but he’s still so shy when they do fool around he’s just like this every time. He hasn’t even seen what in between her legs looks like yet but he’s felt it before with his fingers.
A particularly shaky moan slipped out of him then, and he immediately groaned afterward biting the knuckle of his pointer finger. “I can't hold it.. I can't hold it..” he mumbled weakly against his skin, mortified. But even then his thighs trembled.
Michael’s breath stutters as his entire body tightens for a brief, helpless second before he loses whatever shaky control he’d been holding onto. He sits up almost involuntarily, pulled by instinct more than thought and immediately folds forward over her, shoulders hunched, curls falling around his face as he cradles her head with both hands. He’s cumming.
“Lord—have mercy..”
His fingers press gently into her hair, careful not to mess it up too bad while his forehead dips close. He tries to steady himself against her, a soft broken sound caught in his throat, as he stays there feeling her tongue roll against the underside of his dick. He.. doesn’t quite know how to come back down from the intensity except by holding on.
And that’s what he does until he bashfully lets her pull away, a big flirty smile on her face as she wipes the corner of her mouth.
“What? Don’t look at me like that..” His little accent is thicker now.
“We’ve been dating for months and you’re still so precious! Come hereeeee~! ♪ ” She chirps going in to tickle him, to which he preemptively starts screaming.
— tags : ennemies to lovers (the beef is kinda one sided) badera!michael, singer!reader, tension, mutual pinning, oral(f!receiving), nsfw, fingering
— disclaimer : wrote this in class and i had to keep myself from screaming in front of my classmates…
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ what will happen when a heated rivalry get trapped in the only suite available in the hotel ?
████████
it was common knowledge to everyone in the industry that her and michael jackson were oil and water, fire and ice, a complete storm when forced to breathe the same air. they were the top two pop stars in the world, so comparisons were constant, but it ran deeper than career rivalry. for her, the dislike was visceral; she found his public persona performative, his voice grated on her, and his mere existence in her space felt like a challenge. she had made subtle digs in interviews, eye-rolled during award shows when he swept the categories, and generally exuded a chill so profound around him that it could freeze hell over.
for michael, it was just plain annoying. he actually respected her talent, which made her gratuitous, public, almost obsessive hatred of him all the more infuriating. he couldn't stand being hated for absolutely no reason. they were scheduled to play opposite stadiums on the same summer weekend in london, and now, by a cruel twist of booking fate, they were not just in the same massive hotel, but both had been confirmed for the very same top-floor royal suite due to a monumental clerical error. the air is thick with tension, and she has a scowl that could curdle milk. she just wants to get up to the room and get away from him, and he just wants her to stop treating him like a complete villain.
the managers were currently locked in a heated debate at the front desk, each pulling out every industry connection and contract clause they could think of to secure the suite for their respective star. she stood a few feet back, leaning against a marble pillar and huffing with pure impatience, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched the chaos. finally, she couldn't take the incompetence anymore and marched up to the desk, cutting right through her manager’s sentence.
"give me the key," she snapped, her voice like ice as she bypassed her manager. "there has to be another suite. check again. the penthouse, a deluxe, a broom closet—i don't care."
the receptionist swallowed hard, her fingers trembling over the keyboard. "i'm so sorry, ma'am. with both your shows tonight, every five-star room in london is gone. we’ve checked the surrounding hotels too. it's either the royal suite or... well, the lobby."
she let out a sharp, jagged laugh, turning her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder. "i’d rather sleep in the bus than spend five minutes in a room with him."
michael, who had been standing back with a look of exhausted patience, finally stepped forward. his voice was low, laced with an irritation he was tired of hiding. "it’s a four-bedroom suite. it’s bigger than most houses. you won't even have to see my face."
"that's still too close, michael," she spat, turning fully to face him. "your 'energy' is suffocating."
he rolled his eyes, a dry smile tugging at his lips. "my energy? you’ve been making miserable faces at me since the 84 grammys. i'm the one who should be worried about sharing a floor with someone who clearly wants me dead."
"just give us the damn key," michael sighed, looking back at the secretary while she continued to fume. "she can have the master bedroom. i'll take the one furthest away. we’re both adults—well, one of us is acting like one."
she scoffed, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the quiet lobby. "acting like an adult? is that what you call it? i call it being a condescending prick, michael."
she snatched the gold-plated key card from the stunned receptionist's hand before he could even reach for it. her knuckles were white from the grip she had on her designer handbag, and her eyes were narrowed into slits. she knew she was trapped; the thought of sleeping on a cramped tour bus with her hair and makeup team was even less appealing than facing him, but she wasn't going to make this easy.
"fine," she hissed, stepping into his personal space, the scent of his expensive cologne hitting her like a physical blow. "but let’s get one thing straight. you stay in your wing, i stay in mine. if i hear so much as a single note of you humming in the shower, or if you even breathe too loudly in the hallway, i'm locking you out on the balcony. are we clear?"
she didn't wait for his answer, spinning on her heel toward the elevators with a dramatic flair. as the gold doors slid open, she looked back at him, her expression one of pure, unadulterated disdain.
"and don't you dare think this means we’re cool. i still can't stand you."
once inside the sprawling suite, she moved like a shadow, immediately claiming the furthest bedroom and slamming the door so hard the crystal ornaments on the console table rattled. she spent the next hour pointedly ignoring his existence, emerging only to grab a bottle of water from the common area with her chin held high, looking everywhere but at him. every time their paths nearly crossed, she would pivot or walk faster, radiating an almost physical aura of rejection that made the massive room feel small and suffocating.
michael sat on the edge of the velvet sofa in the main living area, his leather jacket discarded beside him. he watched her flash past the doorway again, the sheer effort she was putting into hating him finally reaching his breaking point. it wasn't just annoying anymore; it was genuinely baffling. he was used to adoration, to screams, to being loved by millions, and here was someone who treated his presence like a biohazard.
"you know, it's actually impressive," he called out, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the suite. "the amount of energy you're wasting just to make sure i know you're miserable. doesn't it get tiring?"
she stopped in her tracks, her hand on the handle of her bedroom door. she didn't turn around. "what’s tiring is you thinking you’re entitled to my conversation, michael. stay on your side of the rug."
he stood up, pacing toward the center of the room, his frustration bubbling over. "i don't want your conversation if it's going to be like this. but this? this silent treatment? it's childish. i haven't done a single thing to you, yet you act like i'm some kind of monster. it's too much. it’s actually insane how much you hate me for nothing."
she spun around, her eyes flashing with a cold fire as she stared him down. "it’s not for nothing, and i don’t need a reason to stay away from you. just leave me alone, michael. i want to finish this night without having to acknowledge that you’re even in the same zip code as me, let alone the same room."
she turned back to her door, expecting that to be the end of it, but something in michael finally snapped—in a different way. the sheer intensity of her anger was so over-the-top that it crossed the line from insulting to hilarious. he realized that the more he tried to be the "bigger person," the more she thrived on her disdain. if she wanted a villain, maybe he’d give her a nuisance instead.
a small, mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching her retreat. "oh, i see. you're afraid," he said softly, his voice carrying perfectly across the suite.
she froze, her hand tightening on the doorknob. "afraid of what? your ego?"
"no," he chuckled, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. "afraid that if you actually talk to me for five minutes, you might realize you don't actually hate me. it's a defense mechanism. it’s actually kind of cute."
"cute?" she whipped around, her face reddening. "do not call me cute. and i am not afraid of you. i'm disgusted by you."
"right, right," michael nodded mockingly, picking up a small decorative pillow from a nearby chair and tossing it up and down. he walked closer, invading the invisible boundary she had drawn in the air. "is that why you're shaking? or is it just the 'energy' in the room?"
he stopped just a few feet away, a playful, lopsided smirk on his face that he knew drove her crazy. "you know, since we're stuck here, i was thinking... maybe we should watch a movie. i hear 'thriller' is a classic. have you seen it? i could give you a live commentary."
she rolled her eyes so hard it physically hurt, letting out a sharp, derisive snort. "thriller? please. that music video is twenty minutes of you dancing with dusty skeletons in a graveyard. it’s overrated, michael. it’s dramatic, it’s long, and quite frankly, the special effects are tacky. i’d rather watch paint dry in the dark than sit through your live commentary of a horror movie parody."
she turned away quickly, her heart hammering against her ribs in a way that made her stomach flip. inside, she was spiraling. it was one thing to hate him from a distance or across a crowded room, but having him stand there, looking relaxed and teasing her with that stupid, knowing smirk, made her feel dangerously off-balance. she felt weird—exposed, almost—and it frustrated her that his presence was suddenly making her pulse race instead of just making her blood boil.
"you think you're so charming, don't you?" she added, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound bored. "it's pathetic. you really can't handle the fact that one person in this world doesn't want to join your little fan club."
michael just laughed, a soft, melodic sound that seemed to vibrate in the air between them. he took another step, closing the gap until he was hovering just outside her personal space. "oh, i handle it just fine. it's just that the 'i hate you' act is starting to wear a little thin. you’re overcompensating. what are you really hiding behind all that attitude?"
she bit her lip, her mind racing to find a comeback that didn't sound like a stutter. for the first time in her career, her sharp tongue had failed her. her thoughts were a tangled mess of irritation and a sudden, terrifying awareness of how close he was standing. why was his voice so calm? why did the air in the suite suddenly feel like it was losing oxygen? she felt completely out of her depth, and the confusion was making her skin itch with a nervous heat she couldn't explain.
"i'm not hiding anything," she finally managed to choke out, though her voice lacked its usual bite. she couldn't look at him anymore—not when his eyes seemed to be reading every flicker of doubt on her face. "you’re just... you’re a lot. and i’m tired. i'm going to take a shower, and when i come out, i want you to be invisible. or at least silent."
she didn't wait for his reaction, practically stumbling into her bedroom and grabbing her silk robe with shaking hands. she needed the steam and the locking door to ground her. as she stepped into the bathroom, she leaned against the cold tile, her heart still thudding a frantic rhythm.
it was supposed to be simple. she was supposed to hate him. but the way he had looked at her—like he was seeing right through the wall she’d spent years building—made her feel more unsettled than any tabloid headline ever could. she turned on the water, the loud hiss of the spray drowning out the silence of the suite, but it couldn't drown out the nagging thought that she wasn't as repulsed by him as she desperately wanted to be.
michael leaned back against the mahogany sideboard, listening to the muffled roar of the shower behind the heavy door. a small, knowing smirk remained on his lips, but as the minutes ticked by, his expression softened into something more contemplative. he reached up, absently tugging at a loose curl on his forehead, his mind replaying the way her voice had faltered at the end.
it was fun, he had to admit. there was a certain thrill in watching her icy composure melt into pure, unadulterated frustration. for years, he had been the one on the receiving end of her silent treatment, but now that he had finally pushed back, he realized she wasn't nearly as bulletproof as she pretended to be. her "disgust" was starting to look a lot more like a shield, and he found himself wondering what exactly she was trying to protect.
he paced the length of the living room, his boots silent on the thick carpet. he was still annoyed—the things she had said about the "thriller" video were uncalled for, even if she was just trying to get a rise out of him—but the annoyance was being replaced by a nagging curiosity. why was she so determined to make him the villain? and more importantly, why did she look so genuinely shaken when he stepped into her space?
"confused," he muttered to himself, a low chuckle escaping his throat. he could see it in her eyes—that split second where the hatred flickered and turned into something else, something much more vulnerable.
he knew he should probably just let it go and go to bed, but the mischievous side of him wasn't finished yet. he wanted to know if he could break that wall down completely. he wasn't sure if he liked her—she was still incredibly rude, after all—but he definitely liked the way she couldn't seem to look him in the eye anymore.
as he headed toward the kitchen to make some tea, he found himself wondering if she’d come out of that shower with her armor back on, or if the cracks he’d made were permanent. one thing was for sure: this was going to be the most interesting night he'd had in london for a long time.
the steam cleared slowly as she stepped out of the shower, her skin flushed from the heat. she reached for a towel, wrapping it tightly around herself before pausing in front of the large, illuminated vanity mirror. instinctively, her fingers went to her damp hair, smoothing back the stray baby hairs and checking her reflection with an intensity she usually reserved for red carpets. she caught herself applying a touch of lip balm and adjusting the way her silk robe sat on her shoulders, then immediately froze. she scoffed at her own reflection, annoyed that she was subconsciously trying to look presentable for a man she was supposed to loathe.
she shook the thought away, tightened the belt of her robe, and steeled her nerves. she wasn't going to let him win.
stepping out of the bedroom and into the common area, she headed toward the kitchen to put her water bottle away. the suite was quiet, save for the soft clinking of a spoon against a ceramic mug. michael was there, leaning against the marble countertop with a cup of tea in his hand, looking entirely too comfortable in her presence.
she felt his gaze on her the moment she entered the room. usually, she would have a sharp insult ready to fly, something to keep him at a distance, but the words felt stuck in her throat. instead, she opted for a heavy, pointed silence. she walked past him, her eyes fixed forward, though she couldn't help but give him a look of pure, concentrated venom as she reached for the fridge.
it was a glare that should have ended the conversation before it started, but there was no fire in her voice this time. she was unusually quiet, her movements quick and slightly stiff. she didn't say a word as she slammed the fridge door shut, but the way she avoided his eyes spoke volumes. the air between them was thick, and the confusion she had felt in the bathroom was only growing as she realized that being near him—even in total silence—was making her heart race all over again.
michael didn't look away this time. usually, he would have politely averted his eyes or offered a professional smile, but something about the way she was trying so hard to ignore him made him do the opposite. he took a slow sip of his tea, his eyes trailing over her—not with his usual teasing smirk, but with a quiet, intense curiosity that felt far more intimate. he noticed the way the silk of her robe moved and the way her damp skin caught the light from the kitchen pendants.
"you're still doing it," he said softly, his voice dropping an octave, breaking the heavy silence.
she stopped halfway across the kitchen, her grip tightening on her water bottle. "doing what, michael?"
"holding your breath," he replied, setting his mug down on the counter with a soft thud. he didn't move toward her, but his gaze was so focused it felt like he had. "you're acting like if you stay quiet enough, i'll just vanish. or maybe you're just afraid that if you speak, you'll say something nice for once."
he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving hers. "it’s okay to admit the room feels a little different now that the managers aren't here to watch us fight. you don't have to perform for me."
she finally turned to look at him, intended to snap back with something cruel, but she found herself caught in his stare. it wasn't the look of a rival or a nuisance; it was the look of a man who was seeing right through her carefully curated mask, and for the first time, she couldn't find the breath to tell him to go to hell.
she didn't answer, her chest heaving as she scrambled for a way out of the suffocating intimacy of the kitchen. "i'm not performing anything," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper as she spun on her heel and retreated toward the expansive living room. she just needed space—away from the scent of his tea, away from the heat radiating off him, and especially away from those eyes that seemed to be peeling back layers of her soul she hadn't even looked at herself.
she practically threw herself onto the far end of the velvet sofa, grabbing a random fashion magazine from the coffee table and flipping through the pages with frantic, meaningless speed.
michael didn't stay in the kitchen. he followed her, his footsteps light and rhythmic on the hardwood floor before they were muffled by the rug. he didn't sit down; instead, he began to pace slowly in front of her, his presence impossible to ignore as he circled the space like a predator who had finally found a weakness in the armor.
"you’re hiding behind that magazine, but you’re holding it upside down," he pointed out, his voice smooth and laced with that newfound, playful confidence.
she froze, her eyes darting to the glossy pages. he was right. she felt her face burn a deep, humiliated crimson as she flipped it over with a sharp snap. "leave me alone, michael. i mean it."
"why?" he asked, stopping right in her line of sight, forcing her to look at his legs if she wouldn't look at his face. "is it because it’s harder to hate me when i’m just a person standing in front of you? no cameras, no press, no charts. just us."
he leaned down slightly, resting his hands on the back of a nearby chair, his gaze dropping to the way her fingers were trembling against the paper. "you've spent so much time convincing the world i’m the worst thing to happen to music, but right now, you look like you’re just trying to convince yourself."
she dropped the magazine onto the table with a muffled thud, her breath hitching in her throat. she couldn't even pretend to read anymore; the letters were just a blur against the backdrop of her own skyrocketing pulse. she kept her gaze fixed on her own hands, noticing how the pale silk of her robe rose and fell with every shallow breath. the silence in the room wasn't empty anymore—it was heavy, charged with a static electricity that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up.
michael took another step closer, his shadow falling across her lap. he was being relentless, peeling away her defenses with a soft-spoken precision that was far more terrifying than any of their public shouting matches.
"you’re so quiet now," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that vibrated in the small space between them. "where did all that fire go? the girl who told the press i was 'artificial' seems to have run out of things to say."
she swallowed hard, her throat feeling tight. she finally looked up, but it was a mistake. he was closer than she realized, leaning over the edge of the sofa just enough that she could see the dark intensity in his eyes. the playful smirk was gone, replaced by a look of genuine, piercing inquiry. he wasn't just teasing her anymore; he was studying her, searching for the exact moment her resolve would shatter.
"i'm just... i'm tired of the noise," she managed to say, her voice small and uncharacteristically fragile. she reached up to nervously tuck a damp lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing against her temple.
"is it the noise?" michael asked, his gaze following the movement of her hand. "or is it that you're realizing the person you've been hating all these years doesn't actually exist? you’re looking at me like you’ve never seen me before."
he reached out, his hand hovering just inches away from the velvet of the sofa near her arm. he didn't touch her, but the proximity was enough to make her heart do a violent somersault. she felt trapped, not by the room, but by the sudden, overwhelming realization that his presence didn't feel like a threat anymore—it felt like a magnet. she shifted slightly, her knee accidentally brushing against the fabric of his trousers, and the small contact sent a jolt through her that made her gasp softly, her eyes widening as she looked into his.
the air in the suite felt thick, almost heavy enough to touch. she sat frozen, her breath caught in her lungs as the silence stretched between them, no longer cold but burning with an unspoken friction. she looked down at where her knee had grazed him, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure he could hear it. the nervous energy she had been carrying all evening was reaching a boiling point, and the confusion was being replaced by a terrifying, electric awareness.
michael didn't pull away. instead, he leaned in further, his presence engulfing her. the playful taunting had completely vanished, leaving behind something raw and focused. he watched the way her pulse jumped in the hollow of her throat, his own expression unreadable but intense.
"you’re shaking," he whispered, his voice a low velvet rasp that sent a fresh shiver down her spine. "tell me again how much you can't stand me. tell me you want me to leave."
she tried to find the words, tried to summon the familiar wall of disdain that had protected her for years, but it had crumbled. she looked up at him, her eyes wide and clouded with a vulnerability she had never shown anyone. "i... i should," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "i should want you to go."
"but you don't," michael countered, his gaze dropping to her lips for a fleeting second before locking back onto her eyes. he slowly moved his hand, finally closing the small gap and resting his palm on the sofa right next to her thigh. the heat from his body was overwhelming. "the hate was easier, wasn't it? it kept things simple. but we aren't being simple anymore."
she let out a shaky exhale, her head falling back slightly against the cushion as he moved even closer. the proximity was dizzying; she could smell the faint trace of his tea and that expensive, woody cologne that had been haunting her senses since the lobby. her hand, still trembling, reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering near the lapel of his shirt as if she didn't know whether to push him away or pull him closer.
michael jackson was standing right in front of her, stripped of the stage lights and the bravado, and all she could feel was the magnetic pull of the one person she had sworn was her greatest enemy.
the space between them had vanished, replaced by a magnetic heat that made her vision blur. she felt her back press firmly into the velvet sofa, her breath coming in ragged hitches as michael’s hand began to move. it wasn't a sudden grab; it was a slow, agonizingly deliberate crawl. his fingers first brushed the hem of her silk robe, the contact so light it could have been a trick of her imagination, but the look in his eyes told her it was very real.
he watched her face with a predatory focus, tracking the way her pupils dilated and the way she bit her lip to keep from making a sound. his hand slid further, his palm finally making full contact with the smooth skin of her thigh. his touch was warm, possessive, and carried an authority that completely bypassed her logic. she should have pushed him away, should have screamed, but her body felt like lead, heavy with a sudden, overwhelming desire she had spent years suppressing.
"you’ve spent so much time talking about me," michael murmured, his thumb beginning to trace slow, hypnotic circles against her skin, moving higher with every rotation. "all those interviews, all that anger... it was just a way to keep from feeling this, wasn't it?"
she let out a soft, broken whimper, her hand finally gripping the front of his shirt, her knuckles turning white as she anchored herself to him. the friction of his thumb against her inner thigh was causing a fire to spread through her veins, turning her knees to water. she looked up at him, her defiance finally shattered, her eyes searching his for a sign that he was going to stop.
but michael wasn't stopping. he leaned down until his lips were just an inch from her ear, his breath hot against her damp hair. "it’s a long night in london," he whispered, his hand tightening its grip on her leg, pulling her a fraction closer to him. "and i think we’re both done pretending."
she didn't argue. she couldn't. the tension had snapped, and as he shifted his weight to loom over her, the only thing she could feel was the desperate need to bridge the final gap between them. the enemy she had spent a lifetime fighting was the only person she wanted to touch.
the air in the suite was suffocatingly hot, thick with a tension that had been building for years. michael’s eyes never left hers, dark and intense, as he maintained that maddeningly calm composure. he shifted his weight, his presence looming over her until she was pinned against the back of the sofa, her robe slightly askew.
with a slow, deliberate movement, he used his free hand—the only one touching her—to apply a firm pressure against the inside of her knee. he didn't rush; he savored the way she trembled under his touch.
"you've been so loud for so long," he murmured, his voice a low, melodic growl that vibrated in her chest. "but right now, you’re so quiet. is this what it takes to shut you up?"
he nudged her leg further, his fingers hooking into the edge of the silk. "go on," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the space he was creating. "open up for me. let's see if you're still as tough as you were in the lobby."
she felt her resolve dissolve completely. as she instinctively obeyed, his hand slid higher, his palm flat against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. he started to caress her with a slow, torturous rhythm, his thumb grazing dangerously close to the center of her heat. he wasn't even rushing to give her what she wanted; he was taunting her, playing with the boundary between irritation and pure, unadulterated need.
"look at you," he chuckled softly, his hand pausing for a second just to feel the frantic beat of her pulse through her skin. "the big star, reduced to this just because i’m finally giving you the attention you were screaming for. you don't hate me. you’ve just been waiting for me to do this."
every stroke of his hand was a challenge, a reminder of the power dynamic he had just flipped on its head. she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders, unable to look away from the man she had called her enemy, who was now the only thing keeping her grounded.
she let out a sharp, choked breath, her head falling back against the velvet as his fingers continued their slow, agonizing ascent. the friction of his palm against her inner thigh was electric, a torturous contrast to the cold disdain she had tried to maintain all evening. she was completely exposed now, the silk of her robe falling away as his single hand dictated exactly how she moved.
"still nothing to say?" michael teased, his voice dropping to a velvety whisper as he watched the way her eyes clouded with a mix of frustration and pure, raw want. "where’s that sharp tongue now? you were so brave when there was a microphone between us."
his hand moved a fraction higher, his thumb applying a steady, rhythmic pressure that made her hips arch instinctively toward him. he was mocking her with his touch, showing her just how easily he could dismantle the wall she had built over years of public rivalry.
"you’re so tense," he murmured, leaning his face so close she could feel the heat of his skin. "just let go. you’ve been fighting this since the moment we walked into this suite. you don't have to be the enemy anymore."
she gripped his forearm, her nails digging into his skin as a wave of heat crashed over her. she hated that he was right, and she hated even more how much she wanted him to keep going. she was trapped in the gravity of him, her body betraying every nasty thing she had ever said about him in the press.
"look at me," he commanded softly, his hand pausing at the very top of her thigh, his fingers curled slightly against her skin. "tell me you want me to stop. say it right now, and i’ll walk away."
she opened her mouth to speak, to finally reclaim her pride, but all that came out was a soft, broken moan that signaled her total surrender. michael’s smirk widened, his thumb finally crossing that last line, proving once and for all that the line between their hate and this was nonexistent.
the air was thick with the scent of his skin and the heavy silence of the suite, broken only by her shallow, hitched breaths. she felt completely paralyzed under his gaze, her pride having long since fled the room. her mind was a static mess, every witty comeback and sharp insult she’d ever prepared for him dissolving into nothingness.
"nothing left to say?" michael whispered, his voice low and dangerous as he watched the frantic pulse in her neck. "where's that attitude you're so famous for?"
she tried to find words, to tell him how much she still hated this, how much she hated him, but her brain wouldn't cooperate. "oh god..." she finally breathed out, the word escaping her lips like a broken prayer, her voice trembling and raw. it was the only thing she could manage to say, a desperate acknowledgment of how far gone she was.
michael’s smirk deepened at the sound of her surrender. he leaned in closer, his dark curls brushing against her forehead as he moved his hand one last time. slowly, with agonizing precision, he slid his fingers past the damp silk of her robe, finding the heat he had been seeking.
he didn't start to stroke her yet. instead, he simply let his fingers rest there, barely brushing against her most sensitive skin with a delicate, ghost-like touch. he was hovering, teasing the very edge of her control without giving her the release she was silently begging for.
"you’re so warm," he murmured, his eyes locked onto hers, searching for the exact moment her pupils dilated even further. "does this feel like 'artificial' energy to you? or is this the most real thing you've felt all year?"
he stayed like that, perfectly still, letting the tension coil tighter and tighter between them. he wanted her to feel every second of his presence, to realize that the man she had called her greatest enemy now held her entire world in the palm of his hand. her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as she let out another shaky, frustrated moan, her body arching involuntarily against the light, mocking pressure of his hand.
the silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the sound of her frantic breathing. michael stayed perfectly still, his fingers barely resting against her, prolonging the torture of the wait. he could feel her trembling against his hand, the heat radiating from her skin evidence of just how much her body was betraying her mind.
"you’re so quiet now," he whispered, his voice smooth and low. "what happened to all that talk? i thought you couldn't stand to be near me."
he shifted his hand just a fraction of an inch, his fingers ghosting over her without any real pressure, just enough to make her gasp. he was intentionally holding back, keeping her right on the edge where the frustration was almost physical. he watched the way she bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to maintain some semblance of control.
"look at me," he commanded softly. when she finally opened her eyes, he was smiling—that same mischievous smirk that usually infuriated her, but now it only made her heart race faster. "i want you to see exactly who’s doing this to you. the man you hate so much."
he began to move his fingers with agonizing slowness, just brushing against the very surface, teasing the sensitive skin without ever giving her a full stroke. every time she tried to move against him, to force the contact she was craving, he would pull back just enough to keep her reaching.
"michael..." she whispered again, her voice cracking as her fingers dug into his shoulders.
"is that all you have to say?" he teased, his hand still just hovering, dancing around the center of her need. "because i think you want to say a lot more. you've been fighting this for years, haven't you? pretending you didn't feel this pull every time we were in the same room."
his thumb traced the very outer edge of her, a slow, circular motion that was so light it was almost a suggestion, yet it sent waves of static through her entire frame. he was enjoying the power shift, the way the most vocal critic of his life was now completely at his mercy, unable to do anything but whisper curses and pray he wouldn't stop.
the atmosphere was thick enough to suffocate, the only sound being the rhythmic, frantic hitch of her breath against the silence of the suite. michael leaned in even closer, his face inches from hers, his dark eyes scanning every inch of her flushed skin. he could feel the heat radiating off her, the way she was vibrating under his hand, yet he kept his fingers perfectly still—just a ghost of a presence right where she was most desperate.
"you're so desperate to move, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low, smooth purr that felt like a caress in itself. he felt her fingers tighten on his shirt, her knuckles white, her body arching instinctively toward the contact he was teasing her with.
"michael..." she whispered, his name trembling as it left her lips. it felt sharper, more raw, echoing the total breakdown of her composure.
michael’s smirk sharpened, that dangerous, playful glint returning to his gaze. he didn't budge. he stayed right on the edge, his thumb ghosting over the very top of her inner thigh, never crossing the line.
"is that all you have for me? just one word?" he challenged, his voice dropping to a velvety command. he nudged her leg just a fraction wider with his palm, keeping his fingers hovering in that torturous, agonizing space. "i want to hear you say it. i want you to tell me exactly what you want."
she let out a broken, frustrated sound, her eyes searching his for a mercy he wasn't ready to give yet.
"beg me," he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. "if you want me to stop playing and actually touch you... if you want to feel what you've been pretending to hate... you're going to have to ask for it. properly."
he gave her a tiny, infinitesimal flick of his finger—just a tease, a second of friction that made her hips lurch—before going completely still again. "tell me. what do you want me to do to you?"
she was drowning, her lungs burning with the effort of trying to stay afloat in the sea of tension he’d created. her pride was a distant memory, burned away by the heat of his gaze and the torturous stillness of his hand. she looked up at him, her eyes glassy and wide, seeing the dark triumph in his expression—that same sharp intensity that had always gotten under her skin, but for a completely different reason now.
"please," she whimpered, the word finally breaking through the wall of her silence. her fingers digging deeper into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down until their chests were almost touching. "please, michael... touch me. i can't—"
she broke off with a hitched breath, her hips jerking upward in a desperate, involuntary plea for the friction he was withholding. the silence of the suite was gone, replaced by the loud, frantic thudding of her heart against her ribs.
"you can't what?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her earlobe. he still hadn't moved his fingers, keeping them hovering in that agonizing, ghost-like tease. "finish the sentence. tell me what you need so badly from the man you supposedly despise."
"fuck, michael, just... please," she sobbed out, her head rolling back against the sofa. the sheer weight of her desire was crushing her. "i want you to touch me. right there. i don't want to wait anymore. please."
she felt his chest vibrate with a low, dark chuckle that sent a fresh jolt of electricity through her. he finally let his gaze drop from her eyes to the space between them, his smirk turning into something more hungry and focused.
"well," he murmured, his thumb finally pressing down with a firm, rhythmic stroke that made her vision go white. "since you asked so nicely."
as the words left her lips, the air seemed to ignite. michael didn't wait another second. his hand, which had been a ghost of a presence, suddenly became a solid, grounding force. he didn't just touch her; he claimed her, his fingers sliding home with a confidence that made her entire world narrow down to that single point of contact.
"there you are," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with a dark, triumphant satisfaction.
he began to move, his fingers finding a rhythm that was steady and relentless. he wasn't teasing anymore; he was showing her exactly why he had been so patient. every stroke was deliberate, designed to shatter what was left of her composure. she let out a loud, unrestrained cry, her back arching off the velvet sofa as she tried to pull him even closer, her legs falling wider apart instinctively as she surrendered to the sensation.
"fuck... michael..." she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands moving from his shoulders to his hair, pulling at the dark curls with a desperate energy.
he leaned over her, his body a heavy, warm weight that pinned her down, his lips trailing hot, damp kisses along the line of her jaw. he was watching her face now, savoring the way her features softened and blurred with pleasure. his persona was still there—the edge, the intensity—but it was directed entirely at her, focused on breaking her down until there was nothing left but this.
"i knew you’d sound like this," he whispered, his thumb catching her rhythm perfectly, pushing her higher and higher. "all that fighting, all that shouting... it was just a rehearsal for this, wasn't it?"
she couldn't even find the breath to argue. her head thrashed against the cushion, her voice reduced to broken stammers of his name and desperate english curses. she was right on the edge, the tension coiling into a tight, white-hot knot in the pit of her stomach, and michael was right there with her, his eyes dark and burning as he drove her toward the finish line he had planned for her from the moment they walked through the door.
she couldn't even form a coherent thought, her mind completely submerged in the friction of his movements. michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that felt just as intimate as his touch.
"don't look away," he commanded, his thumb circling with a punishingly perfect pressure. "i want you to stay right here with me. i want you to remember exactly who is making you feel like this."
she let out a ragged moan, her fingers tangling deeper into his hair as she tried to ground herself. "michael... please..."
"please what?" he whispered, his eyes burning into hers, dark and heavy with a possessive heat. "you spent years telling everyone i was just a shadow, just an image. does this feel like an image? does this feel fake to you?"
he increased the pace just a fraction, his fingers mimicking the frantic beat of her heart. he watched her face shatter, her lips parted and her eyes clouded with a haze of pure, raw sensation.
"you’re so loud now," he teased, a small, dark smile playing on his lips. "i think i like you much better when you're not arguing. when you're just... mine. for as long as i want you like this."
his hand was relentless, driving her toward a peak that felt impossibly high. he leaned in even closer, his chest pressing against her heaving breaths, his voice dropping to a final, devastating murmur. "you can hate me again tomorrow, if you think you still can. but right now, you're going to scream my name until you forget why you ever tried to fight me."
she was already on the brink, her body trembling with a frantic energy that made the silk of her robe hiss against the sofa. michael watched her, his eyes dark with a calculated, heavy desire. he knew exactly how much she could take, and he was enjoying every second of her unraveling.
"you're almost there, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that low, rhythmic rasp.
without breaking eye contact, he shifted the angle of his hand. his thumb kept its steady, maddening pressure on her surface, but he slowly, deliberately slid one finger inside her. the transition was seamless, a deep, invasive warmth that made her eyes fly wide and her breath hitch in a sharp, broken sob.
"fuck..." she gasped, her hips jerking upward as her body tried to accommodate the new, fuller sensation. her nails dug into his forearms, leaving crescent marks in his skin.
"shhh," he whispered, his finger beginning to move within her, curling slightly to find the exact spots that made her toes curl and her voice fail. "just feel it. no more thinking, no more talking. just this."
he increased the tempo, his hand working with a coordinated precision that felt like it was tearing her apart and putting her back together all at once. he was relentless, his finger pushing deep as his thumb continued to drive her toward the edge.
"look at me," he commanded, his face so close she could feel the heat of his skin. "don't close your eyes. i want to see the moment you break. i want to see you lose everything to me."
she was helpless, her head thrashing against the cushions, her voice reduced to a series of sharp, rhythmic gasps that matched the movement of his hand. the world outside the suite didn't exist; the rivalry didn't exist. there was only the weight of him, the fire between her legs, and the devastating realization that he was exactly what she had been missing.
the air in the room seemed to vibrate with her ragged breathing as michael finally shifted his weight. he didn't pull away entirely; instead, he began to trail slow, languid kisses down the side of her neck, his lips barely brushing her skin but leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
"you're so sensitive," he murmured against her collarbone, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. "every time i touch you, you jump. it’s like you’ve been starved for this."
he moved lower, his hands sliding down her sides to her waist, pulling the silk of her robe further apart. he dropped to his knees on the plush rug between her legs, his dark curls spilling over his forehead as he looked up at her from below. the view from down there was possessive, his eyes tracking the way her chest heaved and the way her thighs trembled, still slick from his touch.
"don't hide from me," he whispered, his hands firmly grasping her knees to keep them wide. he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the skin of her inner thigh, right above the knee. "i told you it was a long night. we're going to take our time with every single inch of you."
she let out a shaky moan, her fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his head, unsure if she was trying to pull him closer or hold him back. michael didn't stop. he continued his slow descent, his lips peppering hot, damp kisses higher and higher along her soft skin.
"you spent so much time trying to tear me down in public," he said, his voice muffled against her skin, his breath ghosting over her most sensitive areas. "but here you are... begging me not to stop. who’s really in control now, darling?"
he reached the apex of her thighs, his nose brushing against her, his gaze lifting one last time to lock onto hers. "i want to hear you," he breathed, his hands sliding up to grip her hips tightly. "i want to hear exactly how much you like this."
she let out a stifled sob, her fingers tightening desperately in michael’s dark curls as she looked down at him from the sofa, completely vulnerable. she no longer had the strength to lie, no longer the energy to play the role of the cold, detached critic.
"it’s you... fuck, michael, it’s always been you," she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of the confession. "i never wanted anyone else... i was just too terrified of how you made me feel."
michael paused for a beat, his hands gripping her hips with a newfound intensity. a slow, triumphant smile spread across his lips, but this time, the mockery was gone, replaced by a deep, burning satisfaction. he loved hearing her admit defeat, especially when she looked so beautiful in her surrender.
"that’s all i wanted to hear," he breathed, his warm breath ghosting against her damp skin.
true to his word, he tilted his head and pressed his lips against her with a delicacy that made her shudder from head to toe. he started with small, light kisses, almost chaste, on the tops of her thighs before moving closer to the center of her heat.
"look how you react for me," he murmured between kisses, his voice nothing more than a velvety growl. "all that anger... all that venom in the press... all of it just to end up here, trembling under my mouth."
he traced his tongue with unbearable slowness along her length, savoring the taste of her desire and the violent shiver that racked her frame. she arched her back, letting out a strangled cry, while he continued to kiss her tenderly, almost religiously, turning every inch of her skin into a field of pure electricity. he wasn't rushing anymore; he wanted her to feel every second of this devotion, proving to her with his lips what she dared not deny any longer.
the friction of his lips against her skin was a sensory overload, a soft contrast to the hard, demanding edge he had shown just moments before. he hovered there, his breath hitching as he felt her thighs quiver against his cheeks. he was taking his time, worshipping the very part of her that had been wound so tight with tension.
"you're so perfect like this," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her inner thigh. "so open. so honest."
he leaned in further, his tongue darting out to taste her again, a slow, swirling stroke that made her hips lurch upward uncontrollably. she let out a long, high-pitched whine, her head thrashing against the velvet cushion. she felt his hands slide from her hips down to her underside, lifting her slightly to meet him, grounding her as he focused all his attention on her center.
"fuck, michael... please," she gasped, her voice barely a thread.
"i've got you," he murmured, his gaze lifting for a split second to catch her blown-out pupils before he returned to his task.
he began to alternate between soft, feather-light kisses and the rhythmic, insistent pressure of his tongue. he was teasing her again, but in a way that felt like a promise. he knew he had won, but he wasn't just interested in the victory anymore—he wanted to drown her in the pleasure he knew only he could provide. each time she thought she was about to snap, he would slow down, trailing his lips back to her sensitive skin, murmuring low, dark praises that made her blush even deeper.
"tell me you're mine," he breathed, his teeth grazing her lightly, sending a fresh wave of static through her nerves. "tell me there's no one else you want but me."
"only you," she sobbed out, her hands gripping his hair so tightly she was practically pulling him into her. "it's only ever been you, michael. god, please, don't stop."
he let out a low growl of satisfaction, his grip tightening on her as he buried his face against her, finally giving her the deep, relentless attention she was begging for, determined to make her forget everything but the feeling of him.
the sound of her voice admitting he was the only one seemed to flick a switch inside him. his restraint, once so calculated and cool, began to fray into something much more primal. he didn't pull away; instead, he used his hands to pull her hips right to the edge of the sofa, bringing her flush against his face as he knelt between her trembling legs.
"good girl," he growled, the words vibrating directly against her heat.
he took her then, his tongue sweeping over her with a sudden, intense hunger that made her entire body stiffen in shock. it wasn't the delicate teasing from before; this was deep, rhythmic, and demanding. he used the edge of his teeth just enough to make her gasp, followed immediately by the soothing, wet glide of his tongue that drove her closer to the edge than she had ever been.
"fuck... michael, i'm... i'm going to—" she couldn't even finish the sentence, her voice hitching into a series of broken, high-pitched sounds as the tension in her lower body reached a screaming point.
"let it happen," he commanded, his voice muffled but firm. "give it all to me. i want to feel every bit of it."
he didn't let up for a second. his hands were like vices on her thighs, holding her open and still so she had no choice but to take everything he was giving. the world narrowed down to the scent of his cologne, the heat of his mouth, and the sheer, overwhelming power of the man who had gone from her greatest rival to her absolute master in the span of a single night.
as she finally shattered, her body arching in a violent, beautiful release, michael stayed right there, drinking in her cries and the frantic pulsing of her muscles. he didn't pull back until the last of her tremors began to fade, leaving her slumped against the cushions, breathless and completely spent.
he looked up at her, a stray curl falling over his dark, shimmering eyes, and a smudge of her lip gloss on his chin. he looked every bit the king she had feared and craved, and as he reached up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, he gave her a look that said this was only the beginning.
the heavy silence that followed was broken only by the sound of her gasping for air, her chest rising and falling in jagged movements. michael didn't move from his position on the floor, his knees still pressed into the rug as he watched her with a dark, predatory calm. he reached up, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip, which was swollen and trembling.
"see?" he whispered, his voice smooth and terrifyingly steady. "no microphones, no cameras, no lies. just you, breaking for me."
she couldn't even find the strength to pull her robe back together. she felt completely unraveled, her skin still tingling from the intensity of his mouth. michael stood up slowly, his movements fluid and graceful, and sat back on the edge of the sofa beside her. he didn't touch her intimately this time; he simply tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that felt almost more intimate than what had just happened.
"you look so much better when you aren't trying to fight the world," he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "it’s exhausting, isn't it? pretending you don't need this. pretending you don't need me."
she swallowed hard, her voice coming back in a hoarse whisper. "fuck... i hate that you're right."
michael chuckled, a low sound that vibrated in the small space between them. he leaned down, pressing a final, lingering kiss to her forehead before resting his chin on his hand, watching her with that signature intensity.
"you don't hate it," he corrected gently, a spark of that the playful mischief returning to his eyes. "you just hate that i'm the one who proved it. but don't worry, darling. we have the whole night ahead of us to make sure you never forget it again."
he watched her for a moment longer, his dark eyes drinking in her disheveled state, before he moved. he didn't give her a chance to overthink or retreat back into her shell. leaning forward, he captured her lips in a kiss that was vastly different from the teasing ones before—it was deep, slow, and possessive, tasting of her surrender and his victory.
"oh my god..." she breathed against his mouth, her hands instinctively finding their way back to his neck, pulling him closer.
michael shifted his weight, moving from the edge of the sofa to hover directly over her. he lowered himself with agonizing slowness, making sure she felt every inch of his body making contact with hers. his chest pressed against her heaving breaths, his thighs slotting between hers, pinning her gently but firmly into the plush velvet.
"you’re so soft," he murmured against her lips, his voice a low vibration that sent fresh shivers down her spine. "i’ve spent so long wondering if you’d feel this good under me."
he supported his weight on his elbows, framing her face with his hands. his eyes were dark, burning with an intensity that made her feel like the only person in the world. he began to trail slow, damp kisses from her mouth to her jaw, then down to the sensitive hollow of her throat.
"stay right here," he whispered, his lips grazing her skin. "don't go back to that person who fights me. just be mine tonight."
she arched beneath him, the weight of him feeling like the only thing keeping her grounded. her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even tighter against her as she let out a broken, needy sound.
"i'm not going anywhere," she managed to choke out, her fingers tangling in his hair. "just... michael, please don't stop."
he let out a low, satisfied hum, his body settling completely onto hers, a perfect fit. the power struggle was over; there was only the heat of the room, the scent of his skin, and the slow, rhythmic movement of his hips as he began to lead her into the next part of the night.
the weight of him was a warm, solid comfort against her, but he didn't stay still for long. his hands, large and steady, began a slow journey across her skin, tracing the curves he had only ever seen from a distance. he started at her shoulders, his palms smoothing over her heated skin, before sliding down the length of her arms to interlace his fingers with hers, pinning her hands gently against the cushions.
"you're shaking," he whispered, his voice a dark silk against her ear. "i can feel your heart hammering against my chest. it’s like a trapped bird, isn't it? trying to fly right into me."
he released her hands to let his touch wander further. his fingers grazed the sides of her ribs, his thumbs tracing the delicate line of her hip bones through the opening of her robe. every touch was deliberate, intended to keep her skin humming with a constant, low-voltage electricity.
"fuck, michael..." she gasped, her head rolling to the side as his hand slid upward, his palm brushing the underside of her breast.
"shhh," he murmured, his lips moving against the pulse point in her neck. "i want to know every part of you. i want to know where you're the most sensitive, where you hide your secrets. i want to see if you can handle how much i want you."
his hand moved lower again, his touch becoming firmer, more possessive as he stroked the length of her thighs. he watched the way her eyes clouded over, the way her lips parted as she struggled to keep her breath even.
"you’ve spent so much time talking about me," he said, a slow, dangerous smirk touching his lips as he looked down at her. "writing about me. analyzing every move i make. but this... this isn't something you can write down, is it? you can't describe the way your body feels right now. you can only experience it. with me."
he leaned down to catch her bottom lip between his teeth, a tiny, sharp tug that made her arch into him. "don't think about tomorrow. don't think about what you're going to say when you leave this room. just feel what i'm doing to you right now."
as michael hovered over her, he pulled back just enough to create a sliver of space, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. with a slow, deliberate movement, he reached for the buttons of his shirt, his gaze never wavering.
"you’re looking at me like you’ve been waiting for this for a long time," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
he unfastened the first few buttons, his fingers moving with a grace that was almost hypnotic. as the fabric parted, revealing the smooth, toned expanse of his chest and the sharp line of his collarbone, she felt a fresh wave of heat crash over her. he looked incredible— his silhouette, the lean muscle, the raw confidence that radiated off him in waves.
"oh my god, michael..." she whispered, her voice thick with desire. seeing him like this, partially undone and completely focused on her, made her blood feel like it was boiling. he was effortlessly attractive, his presence filling the room until there was nothing else left to see.
"is that it?" he teased, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it pool around his elbows. "you’re getting so hot just looking at me? i haven't even started yet."
he leaned back down, the cool air hitting her skin where his body had been, only to be replaced by the searing heat of his bare chest pressing against her. she could feel his heart beating—a steady, powerful rhythm that matched her own frantic pulse.
"you want me, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against hers, his hands sliding up to frame her face again. "more than you ever wanted to admit. i can see it in your eyes. you're burning up for me."
she arched into him, her hands wandering over the smooth skin of his back, marveling at the strength she felt beneath her fingertips. he was right; she was on fire, and the sight of him—this close, this real—was the spark that was about to turn the whole room into an inferno.
michael let out a low, breathy laugh as he felt her hands roaming feverishly over his bare shoulders. he moved with a slow, feline grace, reaching down to unbuckle his belt, the metallic click echoing sharply in the quiet suite. he didn't take everything off yet; he just loosened his clothes enough to feel the friction of her skin against his without any barriers.
"you’re staring," he whispered, his voice dropping into that dangerously smooth register. he leaned down, his bare chest finally making full, skin-to-skin contact with hers. the heat was instantaneous, a white-hot bridge connecting them. "do i look the way you imagined when you were writing those cold, professional articles about me?"
he began to move against her, a slow, torturous grind of his hips that made her let out a broken, needy sound. he was so lean, so powerful, and the sight of his dark curls falling over his eyes as he looked down at her was almost too much to bear.
"you're so flushed," he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw before sliding down to grip the back of her neck. "i can feel the heat radiating off you in waves. you want this so badly it’s making you shake, isn't it?"
he tilted her head back, exposing the long line of her throat, and began to pepper hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin, moving toward her ear.
"i told you... i’m not just a story for your magazine," he breathed, his teeth grazing her earlobe just enough to make her gasp. "i’m real. and i’m going to make sure that every time you pick up a pen from now on, you feel exactly what you’re feeling right now. you’re going to taste me in every word you write."
he shifted again, his body heavy and perfect on top of her, his hands sliding down to pull her legs even tighter around his waist. "tell me you're ready. tell me you want me to stop talking and finally give you what you’ve been begging for."
she locked her eyes onto his, her fingers digging into the tense muscles of his shoulders. "i’ve never been more ready in my life," she whispered, her voice vibrating with an urgency she no longer tried to hide. "make me forget everything, michael. make me feel like i’m yours."
michael let out a low growl, a mix of triumph and raw desire. he pressed himself against her, his burning skin against hers, and began to move. it wasn't penetration yet, but a slow, heavy, and rhythmic friction against her center, already slick with longing. he wanted her to feel every inch of him, every curve of his power, torturing her deliciously before the point of no return.
"feel that," he breathed against her temple, his hips tilting with exquisite precision. "i want you to feel exactly what you’re doing to me. i want you to be obsessed with this weight, with this heat."
he increased the pressure slightly, his hands sliding under her back to lift her and press her even more firmly against him. the friction of his loosened trousers and the searing heat of his body created an unbearable sensation that made her groan in jagged gasps. every movement was calculated to bring her to the edge of the abyss, giving her maximum sensation while still withholding exactly what she was begging for.
"look at me," he commanded softly, his voice nothing more than a hypnotic murmur. "don't close your eyes. i want you to see the man who is driving you out of your mind. i want to be the only thing that exists in your world."
she was at her limit, breathless, her hips instinctively trying to follow the rhythm he imposed, while he continued to rub against her with a provocative slowness, savoring every shiver that racked her body.
she watched him, mesmerized, as he finally pushed his trousers down and kicked them away, leaving him completely bare before her. the sight of him—strong, lean, and unmistakably ready—made her heart skip a beat. he looked like a god in the dim light, and the way he looked at her made her feel like the most precious prize he’d ever won.
"see what you do to me?" he whispered, his voice thick with a raw, masculine hunger. "you’ve spent months trying to take me down with your words, but your body... your body has been begging for this since the very first interview."
he moved back over her, the full weight of his naked body finally meeting hers. the sensation of skin-to-skin contact was electric, a total sensory explosion. he gripped her thighs, draping them over his broad shoulders to open her up completely to him.
"you're so beautiful when you're caught like this," he murmured, his thumb grazing her lower lip as he positioned himself at her entrance. "no more games. no more reviews. just this."
he didn't rush. he pushed into her with a slow, agonizingly steady pressure, his eyes locked onto hers to catch every flicker of emotion on her face. he watched her gasp, her back arching as he filled her completely, the breath leaving her lungs in a long, shaky exhale.
"fuck... you're so tight for me," he growled, his forehead dropping against hers as he stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust to the stretch of him. "it’s like you were made specifically to hold me. tell me how it feels. tell me you've never felt anyone like this."
"never," she sobbed out, her hands clutching his damp back, pulling him deeper. "never like this, michael. please... don't ever stop."
he let out a low, triumphant sound and began to move, a deep and rhythmic pace that claimed her entirely. "i’m going to make sure you never think of another man without tasting me," he whispered between heavy breaths, his pace quickening as he drove her higher and higher. "i'm going to ruin you for everyone else, darling. you're mine now. every word you write, every breath you take... it belongs to me."
the rhythm of his movements became more urgent, a relentless and deep cadence that left her gasping for air. he was moving with a raw, athletic grace, his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips as she clung to him like he was the only solid thing in a world that was spinning out of control.
"look at me," he commanded again, his voice strained and heavy with the effort of his own restraint. he reached down, his fingers interlacing with hers and pinning her hands to the pillows once more, forcing her to endure the sheer intensity of the pleasure he was driving into her. "i want to see you break. i want to see the moment you realize you'll never be free of this."
"i'm already... there," she cried out, her voice breaking as she arched her back, her hips rising to meet every one of his thrusts. the friction, the heat, and the sound of his low, guttural moans in her ear were driving her toward a peak that felt terrifyingly beautiful.
michael leaned down, his lips brushing against her sweating skin, his breath hot and ragged. "you're so perfect," he hissed, his pace turning into something faster, something more primal. "so loud for me now. keep making those sounds. i want the whole world to know who you're screaming for."
his movements became more powerful, each strike intentional and deep, claiming her over and over again. he was no longer just a man; he was a force of nature, and she was drowning in him. as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in her lower body, she felt the first sparks of a massive release beginning to flicker.
"michael... oh god, michael!"
"that's it," he growled, his grip on her hands tightening until it almost hurt—a delicious, grounding pain. "give it to me. let go. give me everything you’ve been holding back."
with one final, devastatingly deep thrust, she shattered, her body convulsing in a violent, exquisite climax that went on and on. michael let out a loud, triumphant roar, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he followed her over the edge, his own release hitting him with a force that made his entire frame shudder against her.
for a long moment, the only sound in the room was their synchronized, frantic breathing and the distant hum of the city outside, as if the world had stopped spinning just to witness their collapse.
he stayed collapsed against her for several minutes, his heavy, rhythmic heartbeat thumping against her chest like a drum. the air in the room was thick with the scent of them—heat, sweat, and the fading notes of his expensive cologne. michael slowly lifted his head, his face softened by a vulnerability she’d never seen, though that possessive spark still flickered deep in his eyes.
"you're still shaking," he whispered, his thumb catching a stray tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye. he didn't pull away; instead, he shifted his weight to his side, pulling her with him so they were tangled together, chest to chest, on the edge of the velvet sofa.
he draped the discarded robe over her trembling shoulders, his touch surprisingly tender for a man who had just claimed her so ruthlessly. "you aren't going to be able to write a single word about tonight, are you?" he murmured, a low, tired chuckle vibrating against her collarbone. "because there are no words for this. for us."
she leaned her forehead against his chin, her voice barely a breath. "i think you've effectively ruined my career, michael."
"good," he said, his grip tightening around her waist. "then you'll have more time to spend right here. where you belong."
he began to trace lazy, soothing circles on her lower back, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of her head. the fire was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but for now, there was only the quiet, heavy weight of their shared breath.
"don't move," he commanded softly, his eyes finally closing as he pulled her closer into his heat. "the world can wait until morning. tonight, the king isn't going anywhere, and neither are you."
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warning !!! if you read this at 3am you may get pregnant 😣😣
— tags : victorytour!michael, established relationship, smut, mike is a freak, touching, phone sex
— disclaimer : currently ovulating and i can’t stop writing smut fics omg that’s crazy i’m going insane
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ touring can be sometimes exhausting, especially for michael when he has to be far away from his beautiful girl..
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the roar of the crowd was still ringing in his ears as the limousine pulled away from the stadium, the bright stage lights replaced by the flickering shadows of the city passing by. it had been another massive show on the victory tour, and while being on stage with his brothers brought a certain thrill, the moment the music stopped, the loneliness started to creep back in. michael leaned his head against the cool leather of the seat, his lungs still burning slightly from the pyrotechnics and the intense choreography that had pushed him to his limit.
every time he closed his eyes, he didn't see the thousands of fans waving light sticks; he saw her face. touring could be incredibly exhausting, especially for michael when he had to be so far away from his girl. the silence of the car felt heavy compared to the symphony of screams he had just left behind. he watched the blurry lights of the city through the tinted window, wishing he was heading home to her instead of another high-end hotel suite that felt more like a golden cage than a room.
when the car finally pulled up to the private entrance, he moved like a ghost through the corridors, nodding tiredly at the security guards. the glamour of the tour felt paper-thin tonight. as soon as he stepped into the suite, the quiet was deafening. he peeled off his sweat-dampened costume, the weight of the sequins hitting the floor with a soft thud. he was physically spent, but his mind was racing, fueled by a deep, restless longing.
he crawled onto the expansive bed, the sheets feeling far too large for just one person. he pulled a pillow close to his chest, imagining for a second that it was her. he stared at the telephone on the nightstand for a long time, his fingers tracing the cord. he knew she might be sleeping, or perhaps she was waiting just like he was. the distance was a physical ache in his chest, a void that only her voice could fill. finally, unable to fight the urge any longer, he reached out his hand and began to dial, his heart thumping against his ribs in anticipation of hearing her answer.
the line crackled with static for a brief second, the rhythmic clicking of the rotary dial echoing in the empty suite as he waited, his breath held tight in his chest. on the other side of the country, the phone rang once, then twice, the sound sharp in the quiet of his room. finally, there was a soft rustle of sheets and a low, muffled click as the receiver was lifted.
"hello?" her voice came through the line, thick with the heavy weight of sleep. it was a sweet, honeyed tone, soft and melodic, catching slightly at the back of her throat. she sounded small and warm, like she was still buried deep under a mountain of blankets, completely lost in the comfort of their bed back home.
michael closed his eyes tight, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his exhaustion. just the sound of her breathing on the other end felt like a physical relief, more grounding than any applause he had received that night. "it's me," he whispered, his own voice dropping into a gentle, velvety rasp to match her energy. "i'm sorry, did i wake you up, applehead?"
he heard her hum, a slow, vibrating sound of recognition that traveled through the wire and settled deep in his bones. she let out a long, sleepy sigh, and he could almost picture her stretching, her hair fanned out against the pillow and her eyes barely open. "michael..." she murmured, her voice sounding like pure silk and honey. "i was dreaming about you."
the way she said his name, so soft and full of unfiltered affection, made his heart ache with a fresh wave of longing. he shifted on the bed, pulling the phone cord taut as he rolled onto his side, desperate to feel closer to her. the distance between the stadium lights and her quiet bedroom felt unbearable in that moment. he stayed silent for a heartbeat, just listening to the rhythmic, calm sound of her breath, letting the sweetness of her sleepy voice wash over the jagged edges of his tired mind.
michael let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing the smooth plastic of the receiver as if he could feel her skin through the connection. "i missed you so much today," he confessed, his voice barely a breathy murmur that carried the weight of every mile between them. "on stage, during the quiet moments between the songs, i kept looking into the lights and imagining you were standing right there in the wings waiting for me."
he curled his knees up toward his chest, nesting into the oversized hotel pillows, trying to find a spark of the warmth she always provided. "the stadium was so loud, but all i wanted was to be back in our room, listening to the rain or just the sound of you turning a page in a book. it's so empty here without your laugh."
he heard her let out another soft, sleepy giggle that made his stomach flip with affection. "you have no idea how much i just want to reach out and pull you close," he continued, his tone turning even more tender and shy. "i want to tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead until you fall back asleep. you’re the only thing that feels real to me right now, even through a phone line."
he closed his eyes, his lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he pictured her resting her head on the pillow. "you're my piece of heaven, you know that? i'm counting down every single second until i can finally stop calling you and just hold you instead. please don't hang up yet... just stay on with me for a little while longer so i can pretend you're lying right here next to me."
she let out a soft, contented sigh that sounded like a warm breeze through the receiver, her heart swelling at his vulnerability. "michael, you are so sweet it hurts," she whispered, her voice still thick with that sleepy, honey-coated warmth. "you're making it so hard for me to be here alone when all i want is to feel your arms around me. you have such a beautiful soul, and hearing you say those things... it makes the bed feel way too big without you."
she shifted under her duvet, the sound of the fabric rubbing against the phone creating a soft friction that made him ache. "i miss your hands, and the way you hum in your sleep when you're dreaming. even though you're a thousand miles away, i can still smell your perfume on the pillow you left behind. i hug it every night just to feel a little bit closer to you, my shy little star."
a shy, breathless chuckle escaped his lips as he felt his cheeks heat up in the dark hotel room. she continued, her voice dropping into a tender, protective coo. "you worked so hard tonight, i just know you did. you gave them everything, but i'm the lucky one because i get the real you. the michael who calls me at three in the morning just to tell me he misses me. you're my best friend, and i’m so incredibly proud of you. just close your eyes, baby... i'm right here in your heart, holding your hand through the wire."
michael felt a sudden heat prickle beneath his skin at the sound of her calling him her "shy little star." he shifted restlessly against the silken sheets, the friction of the fabric against his bare legs sending a jolt of awareness through his tired body. the air in the suite suddenly felt a little too still, a little too heavy. "you shouldn't tell me things like that when i'm all alone in this big room," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low, vibrating hum that vibrated into the receiver. "it makes me want to do things that the miles won't let me do."
he reached up with his free hand, slowly undoing the top two buttons of his silk pajama shirt, seeking a bit of air as the atmosphere between them shifted from sweet to something much thicker and more electric. he could hear her breath hitch on the other end, a tiny, sharp intake of air that told him she felt the sudden change in the frequency too. the innocent sleepiness in her voice was being replaced by a soft, breathless tension that made his pulse throb in his neck.
"michael..." she whispered, and this time his name didn't sound like a lullaby; it sounded like a plea. the way she breathed his name into the dark made him grip the phone tighter, his knuckles turning white.
"i'm lying here thinking about the way you look when you're just waking up," he continued, his words slow and deliberate, dripping like warm honey. "and i'm thinking about how much i want to feel your skin against mine right now. no blankets, no clothes, just us." he closed his eyes, his imagination running wild as he described the phantom sensation of his fingers tracing the curve of her waist. the romantic longing was still there, swirling in his chest, but it was being rapidly overtaken by a deep, visceral hunger that made the hotel room feel smaller and much, much hotter.
the silence on the other end of the line was no longer empty; it was charged, vibrating with the unspoken weight of their shared desire. michael could hear her heart beating through the receiver—or perhaps it was just the blood rushing through his own ears. he ran his tongue over his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the dim shadows dancing on the hotel ceiling. "i can hear your breathing change," he whispered, his voice a velvety shadow of its former self. "it’s getting quicker, isn't it?"
he shifted again, the heavy comforter sliding down his chest as he arched his back slightly, feeling the ache of her absence in every fiber of his being. "i'm picturing you right now," he continued, his tone becoming more intense, more focused. "i'm picturing the way your eyes darken when i touch you just the right way... and the way you bite your lip to keep from making a sound."
on the other side of the country, she let out a shaky, broken moan that was barely audible, yet it hit him like a physical blow. "michael, please," she breathed, her voice losing its mielleuse sweetness and replacing it with a raw, desperate edge. "you're making me feel things... i'm so cold here without you, and you're making me so warm."
"tell me where you want my hands," he commanded softly, his voice trembling with a mix of adoration and rising heat. the sweet, innocent talk of the tour and the concert had completely evaporated, leaving only the two of them suspended in a private, electric darkness. he began to describe, in vivid, slow detail, exactly how he would move if he were there—how he would trail his fingertips from her jawline down to the hollow of her throat, watching her skin flush under his touch. the tension was pulling tighter and tighter, like a string ready to snap, turning the thousand miles between them into a suffocating, beautiful pressure.
the heat in the room was becoming stifling, a thick layer of humidity that had nothing to do with the hotel's climate control. michael felt a bead of sweat roll slowly from his temple, tracing the line of his jaw before disappearing into the collar of his open shirt. his skin felt hypersensitive, every brush of the silk sheets against his thighs feeling like a spark of electricity. he kicked the heavy duvet away, needing to feel the cool air, but even that offered no relief from the fire building in his gut.
"it's so hot in here," he rasped, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate register that vibrated with raw hunger. "i'm burning up just thinking about you." he reached out, his fingers trembling as they fumbled with the remaining buttons of his pajama top, finally pushing the fabric off his shoulders until he was bare-chested in the dim light. he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic, rhythmic thud that matched the desperate pace of his thoughts.
he ran a hand down his own chest, his palm grazing his warm skin, imagining it was her hand instead. the friction made him gasp, a sharp, jagged sound that he didn't even try to hide from her. "i can almost feel you," he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his head back against the headboard. "i can feel your breath on my neck, and the way your skin catches against mine when i pull you closer."
on the other end, he heard her breath hitch again, followed by a soft, needy whimper that made his blood boil. she was moving too, the sound of her shifting against her sheets becoming more frantic, more synchronized with his own restlessness. "michael, i'm so warm... i can't stay still," she confessed, her voice trembling. the sweet girl from earlier was gone, replaced by someone just as consumed by the fire as he was. the tension had stretched to its absolute limit, turning their long-distance longing into something carnal and unavoidable.
michael’s breathing turned shallow and heavy, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet of the suite. the air felt like a physical weight against his bare chest, and his skin was glowing with a light sheen of perspiration under the dim lamp. he moved his hand slowly, almost tentatively, away from the phone cord and let it slide down the center of his stomach, his fingers tracing the dip of his navel before dipping lower, disappearing beneath the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms.
"tell me exactly what you're wearing," he groaned, his voice dropping into a deep, commanding rasp that sent a shiver straight through the line. "i want to know every detail. are you in that little silk thing i love? the one that slides right off your shoulders?" he let out a jagged breath as his fingers found his own heat, his eyes rolling back in his head. "because right now, i'm imagining my mouth right there... right where the silk meets your skin."
he began to move his hand in a slow, rhythmic motion, his hips tilting instinctively into the mattress. the friction was agonizingly perfect, a sharp contrast to the cold loneliness of the room. "close your eyes for me, baby," he whispered, his words dripping with a dark, intoxicating promise. "imagine it's my hand on you instead of yours. imagine i'm whispering these things right into your ear, my lips brushing against your skin while i show you just how much i’ve missed you."
on the other end, he heard a sharp, broken gasp, followed by the soft, rhythmic sound of her own movement. it was a symphony of shared desire that bridged the thousands of miles between them. "i want to hear you," he urged, his voice tight with the effort of holding back. "don't be shy with me. let me hear how much you want me, let me hear what i'm doing to you. i'm right there with you... i'm right there."
the silence of the hotel room was now filled with the synchronized, heavy rhythm of their breathing, a bridge of sound connecting two separate worlds. michael gripped the receiver so hard his knuckles were white, his eyes clamped shut as he focused entirely on the soft, wet sounds coming from her end of the line. he could hear the rustle of her sheets becoming more frantic, the unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin as she finally followed his lead.
"that's it," he groaned, his voice a dark, jagged caress. "i can hear you... i can hear how much you're wanting this." his hand moved with a desperate, steady friction, his body arching off the mattress as the heat intensified. "tell me you're touching yourself where i want to be. tell me you're feeling every bit of what i'm saying."
on the other side, she let out a broken, high-pitched whimper that made his blood surge. "michael... i'm... i'm doing it," she breathed, her voice trembling and breathless, no longer sleepy but completely consumed. "i'm imagining it's your fingers... it feels so warm, just like you."
the imagery of her lying in their bed, her own hand mimicking his touch, sent him over the edge of composure. he began to move faster, his breath hitching in his throat as he described exactly what he would do if he could step through the phone line. "i want you to feel me right there with you," he whispered urgently, his words coming out in short, heated bursts. "don't stop. i want to hear every sound you make. i want to know the exact moment you can't take it anymore, because i'm right there with you, baby... i'm so close."
the friction of his palm against his skin was becoming almost unbearable, a searing heat that made his head swim. michael’s chest was heaving, his ribs expanding and contracting sharply as he fought for air in the thick, scented darkness of the suite. "your voice..." he panted, his words stumbling over each other, "the way you sound right now is driving me crazy. i can practically feel the heat radiating off of you through the phone."
he tilted his head back, his curls damp with sweat and clinging to the hotel pillows, as he increased the pace of his hand. he was completely lost in the mental image of her arched back and her eyes squeezed shut, her own hand moving in perfect synchronization with his. "i want you to call my name," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that felt like a physical touch. "i want to hear you say it while you're thinking about me being inside that room with you, locking the door and never letting you go."
on the other end, she let out a long, shaky moan that vibrated with a desperate intensity. "michael... oh, michael," she whimpered, her voice breaking on the last syllable. the sound of her breath was ragged now, a beautiful, messy contrast to the quiet perfection of the tour.
"yes, just like that," he groaned, his body tensing, every muscle coiled like a spring. "don't you dare stop. i’m picturing exactly where your fingers are... i'm picturing the way you're shaking. i’m right there, baby. i'm kissing your neck, i'm holding your other hand pinned against the pillow... just feel me. feel how much i need you right now." the room seemed to disappear, the miles vanished, and for a fleeting, electric moment, there was nothing in the universe but the sound of their shared, frantic breathing and the desperate heat of their voices.
the phone cord was wrapped tightly around his trembling fingers, the plastic clicking against his skin as his movements became more frantic and desperate. michael’s eyes were squeezed shut so tight he saw sparks, his imagination painting a vivid, burning picture of her body arched beneath him. "tell me how it feels," he hissed, his breath coming in short, jagged hitches that rattled in his chest. "tell me how much you want me to be the one touching you right there."
he let out a low, guttural moan as he hit a rhythm that made his entire body vibrate with tension. the expensive hotel mattress creaked under his weight as he shifted, his hips moving in a slow, punishing grind against the palm of his hand. "i’m imagining your eyes," he whispered, his voice thick and dark, dripping with a raw, carnal hunger. "i'm imagining them looking up at me, hazy and dark, begging me not to stop. i want to be the reason you're making those sounds. i want to be the one making you lose your breath."
on the other end of the line, the sounds of her pleasure were becoming more unraveled, a beautiful, messy symphony of soft cries and the frantic rustle of silk against skin. "i'm so close, michael... i'm so close," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, vibrating with a desperate, peak-level intensity.
"stay with me," he urged, his voice breaking as he felt the pressure building behind his ribs like a tidal wave. "look at me in your mind. feel my hands on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no air left between us. i’m right there, baby. i’m right there in the dark with you. don’t you let go yet... stay in this moment with me. feel every single bit of it." he was burning up, his skin slick and glowing in the lamplight, every nerve ending screaming for a release that was only seconds away, yet he pushed himself further, wanting to savor every agonizing second of her voice in his ear.
michael’s hand was moving with a frantic, desperate blur now, his fingers slick with the heat of his own body. he had completely discarded the constraints of his pajama bottoms, his knuckles white as he gripped himself, pulling and sliding with a rhythmic intensity that matched the heavy, erratic thudding of his heart. he arched his back off the mattress, his spine curving like a bow, while his other hand clutched the phone receiver so tightly it creaked against his ear.
every time a broken moan escaped her lips, his grip tightened, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin with a punishing pressure that made his breath catch in his throat. he was moving his hips in a slow, circular grind against the air, his muscles coiling and twitching with every surge of blood. his skin was glowing, a thin film of sweat making his chest shimmer in the dim light of the hotel lamp as he pushed himself harder and faster.
his eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted in a mask of pure, agonized bliss. he wasn't just touching himself; he was trying to bridge the distance, his hand mimicking the way he imagined her soft palms would feel if she were there. he let out a jagged, guttural growl, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he felt the tension pooling at the base of his stomach, becoming heavy and electric. the friction was a searing fire, a beautiful torture that made him hiss her name into the receiver over and over again, his movements becoming more unraveled and breathless as he reached for the edge of the abyss.
the air in the suite was thick and stifling, filled only with the sound of his ragged breathing and the electric hum of the telephone line. michael was completely lost now, his body acting on pure, unadulterated instinct. his hand was a blur of motion, the friction against his skin creating a searing, white-hot heat that made his toes curl against the silk sheets. his head was tossed back, his throat bared to the ceiling, as a low, desperate sound tore from deep within his chest.
"i'm right there... i'm right there," he choked out, his voice breaking under the weight of the pleasure. every time he heard her soft, wet gasps through the receiver, it felt like a physical caress, pushing him further into the haze. he began to move even faster, his hips bucking upward in a frantic search for the release that was hovering just out of reach. his fingers were slick, his grip desperate, as he felt the base of his stomach tighten into a hard, pulsing knot of pure energy.
he was no longer in a hotel room in a strange city; he was in the dark with her, his mind weaving a vivid reality where he could feel the silk of her skin and the scent of her hair. his muscles were vibrating, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding back, but the symphony of her moans was too much to withstand. he hissed her name one more time, the sound long and drawn out, as his heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, every nerve ending in his body screaming as the tension reached a deafening, unbearable peak.
the sounds coming from her end changed, becoming more frantic and desperate, the soft rustle of the sheets intensifying as she shifted her weight. she let out a series of short, sharp gasps, her voice losing all its mielleuse softness and turning into a raw, breathless staccato. "michael... oh, michael, i... i'm almost there," she cried out, her voice trembling with an overwhelming intensity that made his blood roar.
he could hear the way her breath was catching in her throat, a beautiful, jagged sound that told him she was standing right on the precipice. the sheer vulnerability in her tone, the way she clung to his name like a lifeline, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing over him. "yes, baby, give in to it," he urged, his own voice a dark, guttural rasp as he drove his hand faster, his body slick with sweat. "don't fight it. just stay right there with me. i want to hear you go over the edge."
he gripped the receiver so tight he could hear the plastic groan, his eyes rolling back as he focused on every tiny whimper and hitch in her breath. the tension in her voice was so thick it felt like he could reach through the line and touch it. she let out a long, broken moan that started deep in her chest and climbed higher, her breathing becoming a chaotic, shallow mess of sound. he knew that look on her face—the way her head would be thrown back and her lips would be parted—and the mental image pushed him into a state of total, reckless abandon. "show me," he hissed, his muscles coiling and snapping with every movement. "let me hear exactly how much you love me right now."
the air in the room felt like it was about to ignite, the raw energy between them stretching to a point where the physical distance simply ceased to exist. michael’s movements were now a frantic, blurred symphony of desperation, his body slick with sweat as he arched his back so high his shoulders barely touched the mattress. he could hear the exact moment her breath hitched and stayed there, a silent, trembling suspension as she reached the very top of the mountain.
"now, baby... right now," he choked out, his voice breaking into a deep, guttural rasp that was pure emotion. "with me... do it with me."
the sound of her voice exploded into a long, shattered cry of his name, a beautiful and messy release that echoed through the phone line. hearing her go over the edge was the final spark michael needed. his own body stiffened, every muscle locking in a state of absolute, agonizing bliss as he followed her into the abyss. a low, primal groan tore from his throat, his eyes rolling back as a wave of pure electricity crashed through him, starting at his core and radiating out to his very fingertips.
he collapsed back onto the pillows, his chest heaving as he fought for air, the phone still pressed tightly to his ear. the silence that followed was heavy and sweet, filled only with the sound of their shared, ragged breathing and the faint, rhythmic static of the long-distance connection. for a long time, neither of them spoke; they just drifted in the afterglow, two hearts beating in perfect synchronization across the miles, finally finding the peace and closeness that the tour had tried to steal from them. his hand, still trembling, slowly slid away as he lay there in the dark, a small, exhausted smile playing on his lips as he listened to the soft, comforted sighs of the girl who held his entire heart.
the heavy silence that followed was the sweetest sound michael had ever heard, broken only by the rhythmic, exhausted panting shared between them through the wire. he lay completely still, his limbs feeling heavy and loose, his heart gradually slowing down from its frantic pace. he brought the receiver closer to his lips, his voice returning to that soft, mielleuse whisper, but now it was laced with a deep, post-glow tenderness.
"i love you so much," he breathed, the words carrying a weight of sincerity that seemed to vibrate through the thousands of miles of cable. "i wish i could just reach through this phone and pull you into my chest right now. i want to feel your heart beating against mine until we both fall asleep."
he reached out with a trembling hand to pull the cool sheet over his damp skin, his eyes drifting shut as he pictured her lying in the dark, her cheeks likely flushed and her hair a beautiful mess. "you're so beautiful, baby. even when i can't see you, i can feel your light. thank you for staying awake for me... for being my home when i'm so far away from it."
he let out a tiny, contented chuckle, a sound of pure adoration. "go back to sleep now, my pretty girl. dream of me, okay? i’ll be counting down the minutes until i can wake up and hear your voice again. you're the best part of my day, every single day." he lingered on the line for a moment longer, unwilling to break the connection, just listening to the soft, comforted hum she made in response, feeling more loved in that quiet hotel room than he ever did standing in front of eighty thousand people.
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that photo is CRAZY ASF, that’s the pure definition of phone sex bruh 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
Summary - While celebrating how good 'Thriller' has done, your husband finds out your mental health isn't as good as you said it was.
Tags - MDNI, selfharm, insecurity, angst, bullying (flashbacks, fluff, smut, sub!michael, fem!reader, thriller era michael, p in v, pool sex, comfort, a 'show me' convo and dom!reader.
꒰ 𖡻 ྀA note from the author - hey so this is my first requested fic so lmk if you like it! feel free to request and like i said don't be shy and request other characters <3 (ik mj isn't a character but you get the point)
Shit.
Crimson trickles down your thighs and arms, a blade in your hands. You have just relapsed and you're now realising that Michael wants to go on a swimming date. Your breath quickens, eyes widen and tears start to form. You are so stupid. "Fuck..." You whisper, putting a cloth on the angry red lines on your skin, begging it to stop bleeding. You then put on sweats and a hoodie, crawl into bed and forget the blade on your nightstand.
Michael is walking towards your shared bedroom, swimming trunks in hand and a big smile on his face. "Babe! You ready?" He calls out, coming in to see you anything but ready. You quickly morph your face into a smile, the best you can do. You're not gonna mess up this day for him. "Just a minute, I'll be ready." You smile, fake happiness seeping into your voice. He looks at you for a minute, then says: "Okay, call me back when you're ready to go!" He smiles and walks up to you to kiss your forehead. You accept it, and he walks back out.
As soon as the door slams, you jump up and pace around. What do you even do? Tell him? Show him? How do you even hide it? Questions form in your head, but answers don't.
Then it hits you. The shower. You can just stall by taking a shower, obviously. You quickly run into the bathroom and take off your clothes, fully nude. You look into the mirror and sigh. You look so bad. Your hair is greasy, teeth are crooked, arms and legs littered with healed and unhealed cuts, eyes are droopy and tired, skin is breaking out and the list could go on. You've always wondered how Michael even likes you. With reluctant steps, you walk into the shower and turn it on, water spraying you at full blast. Your injured skin screams at the impact, burning you. But you accept it. In your mind, you deserve this. So, you grab your sponge, add soap, and clean yourself. No matter how much it hurts.
Downstairs, Michael hears the shower on and decides to go upstairs and get his sunglasses. He walks up the stairs, into the bedroom and looks around. He begins searching, and starts to get confused when he can't find them. "I swear they were up here.." He mumurs, moving to your nightstand. Maybe you have them.
But what he sees isn't his glasses.
It's worse.
It's a blade, dried blood on it. From a sharpener. Why do you own this? Then it hits him. There's no way you...how did he not notice? The hoodies, the sweats, the wincing whenever he touched you, your tired eyes...it was all connected? Tears well in his eyes. He should've noticed. Helped. Was this his fault? What type of husband is he?
In the bathroom, you don't know that you've been caught. That he knows now. That he's gonna wanna see. You've finished showering, pulling on a towel, drying your skin and leaving the bathroom. Into your room you go.
Something's off.
Michael is at your nightstand, staring at something on it. You don't know what it is, but he can't stop looking at it.
He doesn't even look up when he says, "Baby, show me."
And it hits you. All of it. The hiding, the baggy clothes, the crying, the relapsing and your guilt. Your heart beats, throat goes dry, and you croak out: "What?" Absolutely pathetic. Trying to stay innocent when he's found out. Does he think you're disgusting? Hate you? Does he-
"Please, let me see. I need to see how bad you've been struggling."
His tears flow through his words, and you see tears on his face. Tears start to form in your own eyes, and you drop the towel. His eyes widen and you sob. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm the worst and I've lied and I'm sorr-" He's hugging you. Tight. Like he will never let go. "There's nothing to be sorry about." He whispers in your ear, putting his hand in your hair and rubbing your back.
"It's not your fault."
You sob louder, uncontrollably, and he keeps hold of you the whole time. Your naked body against his fully clothed form, he sits you down on the bed. He then moves next to you and holds your hand. "What made you think you deserve this?" He wonders, staring into your red and swollen eyes, caressing your hand.
You don't know how he does it, but you start to open up for the first time in years. "I've been heavily bullied my whole life. Since school. Boys and girls would hit me, punch me and refuse to talk to me. I started to hate myself after that, believing that it was my fault. I started cutting when I turned 15, after I got asked out as a joke. I'm sorry for not saying anything, I just...." You trail off, taking a deep breath. "I just didn't think you'd want an insecure wife." You finish up and look at his face. Unlike what you thought, he wasn't disgusted or mad. He was concerned and he pulled you closer rather than pushing you away. "I'm proud of you for telling me and I'm proud that you're still alive to talk to me. I will always be with you, every step of the way." He assures you, tucking a hair behind your ear. He squeezes your hand and nods. "It's not your fault people can't see how beautiful and sweet you are." He says, kissing your cheek.
"So you're not mad I ruined the celebration?" You ask, tears subsiding and guilt forming. Michael shakes his head and says: "We can still celebrate, if you want to."
You're now in a bikini, swimming in the pool in the Neverland Ranch with Michael. You decided to celebrate this happy day. You're splashing at eachother, pool water going onto your skin. It coats you and makes your skin glow under the sunlight, which Michael notices. Your body is now glowing, making you look like an angel. Seeing you like this makes him hard in his red trunks, and he tries to fight the urges.
Funnily enough, you were also fighting the urge to pounce on him, staring at his abs and trying not to make it obvious. Heat was pooling between your thighs, your breath was getting shallow. And he knew.
He swims up to you, slowly but surely getting closer. His hand snakes around your waist, a small smile on his face. "Are you sure you wanna do this?" He checks in, making sure there's consent. "Yeah, of course." You nod and say.
Your lips crash together, his hand moving to your thigh, being careful to not injure you. Feeling you up, his tongue slips into your mouth and his cock gets harder and harder. You feel his erection against your inner thigh, and he sits you on the pool's edge and kisses your arms and wrists, where you cut. "No matter what.." He whispers, his voice muffled by your skin. "You'll always be beautiful to me." His tongue swirls against your skin, being careful to not make you get hurt.
He then moves to his knees, kissing and sucking your thighs. "Baby...you're so beautiful and I'll do anything I can to make you realise that.." You arch into his touch, pulling at his hair. "Mike...I need you.." You whimper. He stands back up and nods. "I know mama, I know.." He settles in between your legs, and he's now panting into your mouth.
He tugs at your bikini bottoms and pulls them down. "Can I please you today, mami?" He asks, staring at your pussy hungrily. You nod, and he pulls his trunks down. "I've been needing you so bad..." He whimpers, pumping his cock a few times before slowly going into you. His eyes roll back and your back arches against him, legs opening wider to take all 8 inches of him in.
He slowly thrusts in and out, pool water splashing around the both of you. He begins to whimper, you begin to moan. "Mike...it's too much.." You mewl, but he begs to differ. "Mama, take me...please.." He slowly goes faster, stretching you deliciously. His tip hits your cervix, your body shaking.
Water is splashing and falling, moans are echoing. Orgasms are forming and both of you can't hold back anymore.
"Mike, I'm gonna...!" You hold onto his shoulder, biting your lip. He nods. "I know, I know. Cum on me, baby." He pants.
You shatter, a cry coming from your throat, legs shaking and juices gushing out of you. He pulls out and cums into the water, panting.
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