ONE MORE MINUTE.
michael jackson x fem!reader
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─── ✦ SUMMARY: opening day. paris. one hotel room. fifteen quiet minutes before the world starts asking for michael again.
─── ✦ CONTENT: mature!michael, established relationship, hotel room, opening day, pre-show nerves, fluff, soft kisses, “just one more minute”, no smut (yet)
─── ✦ AUTHOR’S NOTE: part of my ongoing series,The Bodyguard's Daughter. can be read as a standalone, but you'll definitely appreciate the slow burn more if you've been following their story. 🤍
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After breakfast, the suite slowly filled with movement once again.
The shower ran while steam drifted beneath the bathroom door. Garment bags were unzipped, and the clothes for today—carefully laid out the night before—waited untouched.
Everything had its place.
Everything had its time.
Opening day.
You stepped out of the bathroom first, toweling the last few drops of water from your hair. Your security uniform was already on, your radio clipped neatly into place, your hair tied back.
A few minutes later, Michael emerged.
Freshly showered, his curls still damp around his forehead. Instead of the T-shirt he’d worn all week, he’d changed into a crisp white button-up.
More formal.
More…
Opening night.
He reached for the last few buttons before stopping, glancing down at them.
“…Would you…”
Holding the fabric out slightly, he looked at you.
You smiled.
“Of course.”
Stepping closer, you gently took hold of the shirt, your fingers working carefully from the middle button upward.
One.
Then another.
The room remained quiet, disturbed only by the faint sounds of Paris slowly waking outside.
As you reached his collar, you looked up for just a second to make sure it sat straight.
Michael was already looking at you.
Your eyes met.
Neither of you looked away.
“…Don’t.”
You blinked.
“What?”
A small grin tugged at your lips.
“What?”
He exhaled quietly through his nose.
“…Don’t look at me like that, Y/N.”
You lowered your eyes again, pretending to focus on the final button.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You are.”
“I’m buttoning your shirt.”
“Mhm.”
He wasn’t convinced.
You finished the last button, Carefully smoothing the collar flat against his neck.
"There."
Satisfied, you looked back up, Those same eyes, That same tiny grin.
Michael closed his eyes for the briefest second, letting out a quiet laugh.
"...You're making this very difficult."
Your eyebrows lifted.
"I am?"
He nodded once.
"Today..."
A small pause.
"...has to stay about the show."
His voice was calm.
Steady.
But there was something underneath it, Something you hadn't heard before. You tilted your head slightly.
"And if it wasn't today?"
Michael looked at you for what felt like forever. His eyes searched yours.
Then...
They dropped to your lips, He smiled to himself.
"...Then I'd be having a much harder time pretending I don't want to do this."
Before you could answer—
His hand found your waist.
Gently.
Then just a little firmer as he closed the last bit of space between you.
Your breath caught. His forehead brushed yours for the briefest second.
Almost asking.
Almost waiting.
When you didn't move...
His lips met yours.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The first second was soft.
The second...
Neither of you seemed to remember why you were supposed to stop there.
You instinctively stepped closer, your hands finding the front of his shirt, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric.
He breathed out quietly against your lips, pulling you just a fraction closer.
Weeks of interrupted moments...
Stolen kisses...
Lingering looks...
Somehow found each other all at once.
The kiss deepened naturally.
Not rushed.
Not careless.
Just...
Honest.
When the two of you finally paused for air, neither of you opened your eyes immediately.
Your foreheads rested together.
Your breathing hadn't quite settled yet.
Neither had his.
You smiled before you even looked at him.
"...I thought today was supposed to be about the show."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"...It is."
His thumb slowly brushed against your side.
"...I'm just borrowing a minute."
You looked up at him.
"...One minute?"
The corner of his mouth lifted.
"...Maybe two."
Before you could answer...
He kissed you again.
Like he'd already decided two minutes wasn't nearly enough.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Fifteen minutes!"
Your dad's voice echoed through the suite.
The two of you froze.
Michael rested his forehead against yours, letting out the smallest, defeated sigh.
"...He always knows."
The knock faded into silence.
Neither of you moved.
Not immediately.
Michael looked at you for another second.
As though he was memorizing your face.
Then...
His hand gently found the back of your neck once more.
Your breath caught.
"...Michael."
"Hm?"
"We have to—"
"I know."
He smiled.
"...One more."
Before you could answer—
His lips found yours again.
This one...
Lasted.
Not hurried.
Not stolen.
Just...
Certain.
You smiled into the kiss almost immediately.
Your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt once more.
He held you just a little closer.
Like he already knew the next quiet moment wouldn't come for hours.
When he finally pulled away...
His forehead rested lightly against yours.
Both of you were breathing just a little harder now.
Neither of you seemed particularly interested in stepping away first.
Then—
He smiled.
"...We're not done."
Your heart skipped.
He gently brushed his thumb across your cheek.
"...Not even close."
Only then did he finally let go.
Picking up his suit jacket from the chair.
Slipping it on.
Completely composed again.
Almost.
You watched him straighten the sleeves.
Adjust his cuffs.
Smooth the front of the jacket.
As though he hadn't just kissed you like that.
You laughed softly to yourself.
"...Show-off."
He looked over his shoulder.
"I heard that."
"I wanted you to."
A grin.
Then...
He opened the hotel room door.
The hallway waited.
Reality waited.
You glanced once toward the digital clock.
7:50 a.m.
One deep breath.
Tonight.
It was finally happening.
─── ✦ continue the rest of my story on wattpad: Miss_jacksonxo ♡ (This is a little part of chapter 45, not published yet.)