at the midnight hour | michael jackson
based on this request - a/n: sorry if this sucks
michael hadn’t seen you in months and he couldn’t help himself.
t/w: 18+ mdni, smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex, creatively inappropriate use of a lace thong (he stole your favorite underwear)
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Three months felt like a lifetime.
Each day droning on and the hours ticking by in a lethargic sort of hum. The electrical buzz of the air conditioning unit hanging from the window in your apartment making white noise in your head while it overshadowed the static coming from the radio.
And you sat there listlessly, vision fuzzy at the sides as you stared at the phone, waiting for him to call.
It was getting late in London so it should be any moment now.
This was what your life had dwindled down to ever since Michael went on tour.
Months on end of phone calls, him falling asleep on the other end of the line and you gnawing at the your lip not wanting to hang up.
A rare four days sprinted across the weeks when there was a gap and he’d fly out to see you, but those moments were gone quickly like breath on a mirror.
You missed him. The way you felt your heart starting to rot inside of your chest felt dramatic, but then you remembered he was half way across the planet and you wouldn’t get to see his face for another five weeks.
You knew the moment you met him, you’d have to share him with the world. You knew that. Knew there was no way around it and knew that despite the frustration it offered, Michael wanted the world in return.
So there you sat, like clockwork, fingers picking at a thread in your sheets and waiting for the phone to ring with a cup of tea long gone cold on your nightstand.
Your cat meowed from the doorway, sensing your upheaval of emotions as another minute ticked by—
The phone rang and it was picked up and pressed to your ear barely a second later.
“Hey, baby.”
You shut your eyes at the sound of his voice. Labored with exhaustion and a rough edge to it that made your heart flutter.
“Hi, Michael.”
Your finger twirled around the cord as you heard the shuffle of sheets as he got settled into whatever hotel room he was staying the night in. His breath slower and a bit heavier on the phone when he finally spoke again.
“I really wish you were here.”
“I know, me too.”
“Real bad,” there was something unraveling beneath his tone. Something you hadn’t heard from him in a while given the distance and your teeth sank into your bottom lip.
“I had a dream about you last night,” you spoke quietly, shy despite the privacy.
“Oh yeah?” Michael’s voice held a hint of amusement, though the cadence was definitely more on the teasing side. “You must be in my head, because I had one about you too.”
You hummed, “what happened in it?”
“Do you remember that night in Florence?”
You blushed. You’d never forget it. “Of course.”
“Well, we’re there. And instead of my head between your thighs in the hotel suite I had you laid out and open for me while we were in the Accademia Gallery.”
You clicked your tongue. “A public escapade? Naughty.”
“Only for you. Now what was your dream?”
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Michael’s hand was gripping himself through his boxers, the pressure making his head spin as he listened to you.
“Well, we were in the living room and there was this massive couch. You were sitting down and I lowered myself to my knees.”
He could picture it. You in one of your little sundresses he loved so much. Eyes doting as you looked up at him from the ground and he let out a low sigh as he finally gave himself permission to slide his hand down, back up.
“And what’d you’d do next, baby?”
Your own voice was a little heated and he knew you were in bed right now. The thought of you rubbing your thighs together while you rehashed the wet dream made his cock twitch in his hand.
“You had me crawl to you as you spread your legs, having me kneel right between them as you undid your belt and took your cock out for me to see.”
As you spoke, he did just that, his hand finally reaching under the waistband of his boxers and pulling himself out, the cool air hitting him made him shiver. His tip already leaking pre-come. He would’ve been embarrassed but it had been so long.
He dragged his hand up and down, his grip firm and trying to imagine it was yours.
“Keep talking, honey.” His voice slipped into a lower register, one he only used with you when the hour was late like this.
“You took hold of one of my hands and had me take hold of your cock. God, it felt so real and you felt so warm, your skin like velvet and I could feel your pulse along the veins as I ran a nail along it.”
His head fell back against the head board, his whole body tightening and he could feel the muscles in his stomach clench as he tightened his grip and pumped his hand up and down.
God what he would give to have you here.
“Then you told me to open my mouth and I did, real wide to try to get you all the way in but you’re too big.”
“Oh fuck,” Michael shuddered and he gnawed at his lip as he suddenly got an idea, eyeing one of his suitcases. “Keep going,” he muttered, standing up to dig through it for a moment and when his finger caught on a piece of pink lace he smiled, his grin akin to a shark who’d just got a whiff of blood in the water.
He sat back on bed after kicking his boxers off, one hand holding the phone while the other wrapped his favorite pair of your underwear around his cock, the soft material providing an enticing sensation as it rubbed against the tip and he shuddered as he started to jack off again.
“I wrapped my lips around the head of it and then you told me to lick and I kept doing it again and again and you were making so much noise for me, baby. Then I hollowed out my cheeks, trying to be good for you and take you deeper but your cock already made my mouth feel so full and I wasn’t even half way down.”
“Fucking hell.” A moan left him, fracturing his speech. The imagine of your head bobbing up and down between his legs made his thighs tense and his hips rose up in blind thrusts, seeking you out desperately.
“I started to gag and you told me how pretty I looked when my eyes started to water and spit was drooling out of my mouth.”
He wasn’t think straight, or at all, caught up in a lust induced delusion of wishing you were there so he could dig his fingers in your hair to push you down deeper. Fuck your throat harder. Spitting on his own cock to fuel the daydream.
“You loved being face fucked didn’t you?”
You whimpered quietly and he couldn’t help it as moan rose up from the back of his throat, dancing up his tongue like a spider.
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“Fuck baby, are you touching yourself?”
As if being able to see you even though you were thousands of miles away, your hand had begun to dance its way down.
The sound of him over the phone was intoxicating. His heavy breaths, the whimpers dancing on the edge of his teeth, the wet sound of Michael jacking himself off… it was too much.
“I can’t help it when I’m hearing you like that,” you panted and the second your fingers touched your swollen clit, a moan tore up your throat violently and you barely heard Michael swearing on the other end of the phone.
“How’d the dream end?” He practically bit out and you could so clearly envision the way his muscles were clenching in his stomach as he masturbated, his head thrown back and curls damp with sweat as he neared a finish.
“With you… with you coming down my throat,” you struggled with your speech, your fingers sliding down and in and it wasn’t enough at all. Knowing Michael’s hands were so much bigger than yours and how much better his cock would feel if he were fucking you right now. “You held my jaw and had me swallow it so you could feel it going down.”
A broken sort of sound left him, utterly raw and human. “I’m coming baby, fuck—“
You actually whined, the sound leaving you without warrant and wishing you could be face down in the mattress by him.
“Michael.”
“That’s it baby, just think of me.”
Your ears were ringing and head spinning, your fingers dancing back up to your clit and imagining it was his mouth instead, picturing his eyes meeting yours as he flattened his tongue over it and you fell right off the edge of oblivion.
You practically melted back into the bed once your high started to ebb, hearing Michael trying to catch his breath as well and you laughed.
“What?” He asked, the lazy smile evident in his tone.
“Nothing, just… wow.”
Michael hummed and you heard the shuffle of papers before he spoke. “I’m buying you a plane ticket to come see me, I can’t do this anymore. I’m gonna go insane.”
You smiled, “when?”
“Tomorrow morning, I’m having a car pick you up at nine.”
“I‘ll wear that thong you seem to like so much as a hello gift.”
Michael was silent for a brief moment before laughing. “I might’ve taken it.”
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