Long Live The King. Post Card Exchange. Brolin. Shnicky. Irish. Lifer. FanFics. Adventures. Roadtrips. Mentally Dating. Pop. CheekyIrishColinIsMyLionheart. BritRoyalties
synopsis: as michael is up giving his speech for his 8th grammy of the night, you notice a red lipstick mark on his jawline that you didn’t put there, jealousy instantly filling your body, and michael finds out why you’re annoyed the hard way.
a/n: i’m a sucker for a lil argument. also i know it wasn’t diana that kissed michael’s cheek at the grammys, but it’s just for a lil fun.
part two.
the 1984 grammys award ceremony was a whirlwind of flashing lights, deafening applause, and the intoxicating scent of expensive perfume and hairspray that clung to the air.
michael had been nominated for 12 awards tonight—he had won 8 of them—and by the time his name was called for the eighth and final win of the night, the energy in the room was electric, enough to power all of los angeles.
standing centre stage, bathed in the golden glow of the spotlight, michael adjusted his grip on the gold award. he looked every bit the superstar in his iconic blue and gold jacket, the sequins catching the light with every subtle movement he made. the audience erupted into a standing ovation, the roar of applause nearly shaking the walls.
“i’d like to thank…” michael began, his voice smooth and confident, his eyes scanning the crowd. he thanked the grammy committee, his producers, his family, and his fans. but as he continued speaking, something caught your eye; a small red stain on his jawline.
your breath hitched. the lipstick mark was unmistakable—a perfect, crimson crescent pressed against his skin, just above his jawline. it wasn’t yours. you hadn’t worn red lipstick tonight; you’d opted for a subtle nude gloss that barely showed up under the harsh stage lights. so there was no way michael could have gotten that from you.
michael finished his speech, you didn’t even hear the rest of it as you had zoned out thinking about the red lipstick. his smile was genuine and grateful. he turned to wave at the audience before stepping down from the stage, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside you. as he approached your table, he sat down, his arm automatically went to your waist, pulling you close as cameras flashed around you both.
“eight grammys, baby!” michael exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. but you turned your head slightly, so his lips landed on your jaw instead. your stomach churned as you caught another whiff of a unfamiliar perfume mixed with his cologne.
“you okay, baby?” michael whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he noticed your stiff posture. the cameras were still flashing around them, capturing their victory lap.
“i’m perfect,” you replied through a bright, practiced smile for the cameras. as soon as the nearest camera moved on, your expression hardened again.
“seriously, are you feeling alright?” michael asked again in a hushed tone but was genuinely concerned, his hand still resting at your lower back as you both waved off quincy jones and other people in the music industry. “you’re acting…off.”
“just stop asking,” you muttered under your breath, forcing another smile at stevie wonder as he congratulated michael. “im fine.” you say as yous walk to the limousine.
“you don’t look fine,” michael pressed gently, sensing the icy wall you were quickly putting up between you. he leaned closer, trying to catch your eye as you both move through the throng of celebrities, your polite nods to them feeling strained and robotic. “baby, talk to me. is it the noise? the crowd?”
“i said stop asking, michael.”
michael recoiled slightly, the genuine happiness from his historic night draining from his face at your sharp tone. he fell silent, but his hand remained hovering at your back, uncertain now, as you exchanged stiff goodbyes with lionel richie and diana ross. the congratulations felt hollow to your ears, your focus narrowed entirely on the red smudge mocking you from his jawline.
the rest of the after party passed in a blur of forced smiles and polite nods. michael hovered near you, occasionally reaching for your hand or squeezing your waist, silently trying to bridge the distance you’d created. but you remained tight-lipped, offering only monosyllabic responses when he spoke.
by the time bill pulled the limo around to the entrance, your jaw was set tight.
michael climbed into the backseat first, holding out his hand to help you in, but you ignored it, sliding across the leather seat as far from him as possible. the space between you felt charged and heavy with unspoken words as bill pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic.
michael watched you from across the seat, your body language screaming volumes of unsaid things. he unbuttoned the first button of his jacket, making himself more comfortable. “baby…” he tested the waters softly. but your response was telling—you hugged your jacket tighter around you and looked out the window.
“okay, that’s it,” michael said firmly after five minutes of strained silence. he reached across the seat and gently turned your face towards him, forcing you to meet his gaze. “whatever’s going on, just tell me now because this silent treatment is killing me.”
his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, his touch gentle but his expression stern. his eyes searched yours intently, demanding an answer. the limos dim lighting cast shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the set of his jaw. he wasn’t going to let this go until you spoke your mind.
“michael, let go,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. but he didn’t release your chin, his dark eyes boring into yours with that stubborn determination he got when he refused to back down.
“not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he insisted, his voice low and serious. “we’ve been together two years, and you’ve never given me the silent treatment like this,” he continued, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “so whatever it is, it’s big. and i deserve to know.”
“whatever it is, just say it,” he urged, his expression softening slightly. “are you mad about something i did? soemthing i said?” he searched your face for clues, his brow furrowing when he didn’t find any obvious answers.
“you want me to tell you?” you snapped, suddenly turning to face him fully. your eyes flashed with anger and hurt, your voice rising slightly. “fine. i’ll tell you.” you pulled away from his touch, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.
“that red mark on your jaw,” you said, “whose lipstick is it, michael? because it sure as hell isn't mine." you watched his expression carefully, waiting for the guilt to set in.
his eyes widened slightly before he instinctively touched his jaw. "what are you talking about?" he asked, his voice defensive.
"don't play dumb, michael," you bit out, pointing an accusing finger at the faint red smear on his skin. "its right there. some cheap perfume mixed with it too. you smelled like a different woman when you kissed me cheek earlier."
michael went rigid, his hand freezing on his jaw.
"baby, wait--" michael started, holding his hands up defensively. "its not what you think. i swear." he reached for your hand, but you pulled away, your chest heaving with frustration.
"then what is it? because unless lipstick grows on jaws by itself, someone put that there." you snapped, rolling your eyes.
"it was just diana ross," michael explained quickly, his brow furrowed. "she greeted me when i first arrived, gave me a kiss on the cheek. you know how she is--always so affectionate."
"she kissed my jaw, i didn't even realise it was there," he insisted, his expression earnest but clearly frustrated that you were jumping to the worst conclusion. "you really think id cheat on you? at the grammys? with diana?"
"you left it there all night," you countered, your voice trembling with jealousy and annoyance.
as you sit there stewing, your mind races with thoughts and insecurities.
he didn't wipe it off.
he apparently didn't even notice it was there.
does he not care that his girlfriend would see it?
what if he still has feelings for diana?
you glance at his jaw again, watching that bright red mark mock you from across the seat. it should have been wiped off. it should have been gone the second those ruby lips touched his skin. you feel your throat tighten. you're being irrational, you know it--but the thought of someone else leaving a mark on him, even accidentally, makes your chest ache with something ugly and possessive.
you remember the rumours, the old photos, the way diana used to look at him. the history between them is like a shadow hanging over your relationship. if it had been anyone else--any other woman--you probably would have let it go by now. but diana...diana was different.
"its diana," you practically hissed the name. "that's the problem, michael. you and diana...you have history."
the air in the limo felt thick. it wasn't just the lipstick; it was the years of connection between them, the way she looked at him like she owned a piece of him. anyone else you'd have laughed it off. not her.
"so what?" michael snapped, his patience wearing thin. "just because diana have history doesn't mean im going to cheat on you with her! you really think so little of me?" he ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "it was a kiss on the cheek. that's literally it."
"a kiss on the cheek that you left smudged on your jaw all night!" you shot back, your voice rising. "you didn't even bother to wipe it off. did it mean something to you? did you want her to know that you still care?”
“are you serious right now?” michael threw his hands up. “i didn’t notice it!”
“you didn’t notice it,” you repeated, your voice dripping with disbelief. “michael, you’re always so aware of every little thing—your hair, your clothes, your fucking shoes. but a big red lipstick mark on your jaw? you missed that?”
“i was talking to people!” michael shouted back, his own temper flaring. “i didn’t think of her leaving a lipstick mark because it meant absolutely nothing to me! you are blowing this way out of proportion just because of who she is.” he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “you’re jealous.”
“i am NOT jealous!” you lied, your voice cracking slightly. you hated how weak you sounded, how transparent your insecurity was. but the truth was, you were. you were terrified of diana’s hold on him, of the history they shared that you could never replicate.
“then why are you acting like this?” michael challenged, his voice dropping low.
“because it’s diana,” you yelled back, throwing your hands up in frustration. “because everyone knows she used to have you. because when she looks at you, she acts like she still does. and you just walked around all night wearing her mark like a fucking trophy!”
michael stared at you, his mouth falling open slightly in disbelief. “it is lipstick,” he ground out.
“yes, and you should’ve wiped it off the second you left her,” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “not worn it around like you were proud of it.” you looked away, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “do you even understand how that looks? how it makes me feel?” the car was silent except for the low hum of the engine.
michael exhaled sharply, running both hands through his curls in frustration. “i understand that it hurt you,” he said, his tone softening slightly despite his frustration. “but you’re twisting this into something it’s not. i didn’t keep it there on purpose. i didn’t even know it was there until you pointed it out.”
“then why didn’t you check your reflection?” you demanded, tears finally pricking your eyes. “you check everything else, michael. you’re meticulous. the fact that you let her lipstick stay on your face tells me you were comfortable with it. you were comfortable with her mark on you.”
he stared at you, completely stunned by your logic. “that’s genuinely ridiculous.”
“is it?” you asked quietly, tears escaping down your cheeks. “would you have left some other woman’s lipstick on you? really think about it, michael.”
michael opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. he swallowed hard, lowering his face to the floor of the car. the silence stretched out between you, heavy and suffocating.
the car had slowed to stop at a red light, and in the silence, michael finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “no,” he admitted. “i wouldn’t have.”
your heart clenched painfully. you didn’t want him to say that. you wanted him to fight back, to tell you that you were being crazy. but he was being honest.
“i didn’t think it through,” michael continued, his jaw tight with self reproach. he finally reached his hand up and rubbed at the smudge, erasing it. “you’re right. i should have noticed. i should have wiped it off the second it happened—diana or not, stranger or not. but i didnt. and that’s my fault.”
he turned his hand over, looking at the lipstick now on his hand from wiping his jaw. the lipstick was gone of his face, but the damage was already done—you already believed that you come second to diana. you were crying, upset over something so stupid as a smudge of makeup. he felt like an asshole. “baby, stop crying.”
“come here,” he said softly, reaching for you. you hesitated before leaning into him, your shoulders shaking with sobs. he wrapped an arm around you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “i’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair.
“i didn’t realise how disrespectful it looked to you, especially coming from her. i know there’s history. i know that makes it sensitive. i should have been more aware.” you pulled back slightly, wiping your eyes, sniffling.
“talk to me,” he prompted gently. “i know i messed up, but i need to understand what’s really bothering you about this besides the lipstick itself. is it because it was her? is it because i didn’t notice immediately?”
you took a shaky breath, gripping his hand tightly. “it’s the history,” you admitted quietly. “it’s that no matter how much time passes, she always acts like she has a claim on you. and tonight…tonight you let her have that claim. you walked around with her mark on you like you belonged to her.”
michael’s face fell, the realisation hitting him hard.
“and that hurt you,” he said, understanding finally dawning in his eyes. “not the fact that it was lipstick, but the fact it was her lipstick. and i let it stay there because i didn’t want to upset her by wiping it off in front of her.”
“exactly,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “you prioritised her comfort over mine. you didn’t want to be rude to her, but you didn’t mind insulting me.” you let out a big sigh, “it feels like she still comes first, michael. it feels like no matter what i do, i’ll never outrank her history with you.”
michael looked absolutely stricken by your admission. he shook his head vigorously, reaching out to cup your face. “that’s not true,” he said firmly. “she does not come first. you are my reality. she was in a part of my past. there is a massive difference.” he searched your eyes, desperate for you to believe him.
“baby, you’re not competing with her,” he said gently, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to outrank her because you’re not even in the same category. you’re my partner, my present, my future, she’s my past.”
you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch despite yourself. “i know,” you murmured, though the jealously still simmered beneath the surface. “i know you love me. i just…” you trailed off, biting your lip. even as his words sank in, the image of diana’s red lips against his skin still made your stomach twist uncomfortably.
“i get that it still bothers you,” he said softly, reading your body language even as you tried to hide your lingering jealousy. “even if you understand logically, it still feels bad emotionally.” he kissed your forehead against gently. “and that matters.”
you nodded, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “it’s stupid,” you admitted, “but i keep picturing it. her leaning in, her lips on your skin, and you just…letting it happen. and then carrying it around all night.” your voice dropped to barely a whisper.
“i’m sorry,” you muttered against his chest, feeling foolish. “i’m being ridiculous. she probably didn’t even mean it in that way. i just saw it as that, im being stupid.”
“hey, don’t apologise for feeling hurt,” he said firmly, tilting your chin up so you had to look at him. “your feelings aren’t stupid. diana targeted something sensitive deliberately—that doesn’t make your reaction invalid. she knows exactly how to push your buttons, and she did.” he brushed his thumb across your cheek gently. “the fact youre upset means you care.”
“i just hate feeling this way,” you admitted, your voice small. “jealous and insecure over something that probably means nothing to you. it makes me feel weak.” you looked down, embarrassed. “you always handle things so smoothly, and here i am falling apart over a lipstick stain.” michael frowned, tilting your face back up to meet his gaze.
“first of all, falling apart over a lipstick stain means you give a damn about me,” he said firmly. “it means you’re not just sitting back and letting some other woman mark your territory without care. it means you’re human and you’re jealous.”
“so don’t apologise for feeling jealous over something that actually matters to you,” he said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “because it matters to me that you care enough to get jealous. it means i’m doing something right.”
you just nodded your head, staring into space. michael notices this and grabs your chin softly, pulling your head towards his and connecting your lips together.
the kiss dissolved the remaining tension in your shoulders, the warmth of his lips chasing away the lingering insecurity. when he finally pulled back, his expression was soft and adoring. “we’re good?” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. you nodded, letting out a final breath, the jealously finally fading into nothing. “we’re good.”
summary: michael stays at your place for the first time. just a few days after being awarded for his off the wall album.
warnings : 18+ suggestive smut?? , shy michael , lots of flirting, mentions of jerking off, he somehow ends up spending the night lmfao.
a/n: i keep thinking how I wish I could’ve been his friend :( + if guys want a part two let me know!
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you were sitting on top of your dryer, listening to michael ramble about how nervous he was going on stage to get his awards. “it was petrifying! I think I hid it well!”, he covered his face giggling. he was leaning against the wall in front of you, dressed in a red sweater and black slacks. usually michael doesn’t get much free time so he snuck out, when he thinks about it too much his heart gets to thumping so… he’s not! “you did hide it well mikey!, I really loved your suit”. he blushed at your compliment. “thank you I wish you could’ve been there, I may have been more calm”. he grinned walking towards you boldly parting your legs so he was standing between you.
“what would.. you have worn y/n?” his pretty doe eyes looked at you intensely. “hmm I think I would have worn something black to match you”. you heard his breath hitch even if his expression didn’t change. “you would’ve looked perfect on my arm”, you tilted your head at him. michael’s curls were slightly resting on his forehead, similar to his documented accomplishment from earlier in the week. he smelt sweet very floral, it was thick but not in an overwhelming way. more like candy coated as it overtook any room he encountered.
he drew swirls against your leg now avoiding eye contact with you. he loved your dryer room it was dimly lit, but the amount of similar colored things gave it unique lighting. “michael can I ask you a question?” he nodded, “of course anything”. you eyed his gentle face before asking. “what’s your favorite thing to do romantically with a girl?”, his eyes widened one of his spacious hands masking his grin. “umm… well I like to- this is embarrassing” , you laughed moving his hand away. “tell me”, he huffed “I’m shy”.
he sighed closing his eyes for a second clearing his mind. “I like… kissing”, you blushed at his sentence. “aww michael that’s so sweet”, you playfully pushed his shoulder. “stop I told you I feel shy..”, it was charming the award winning star being shy about anything. “do you wanna kiss me mikey?”, he glanced at you for a second immediately looking at the dryer beneath you. “I don’t want to not kiss you…” he reached his hand onto your back briefly bringing you in close, you nodded giving him approval. he kissed you so carefully. michael felt like you were a flower on a lily pad, if he pressed your skin too hard it would break.
knowing this was something michael really enjoyed made you throb the tiniest bit. the slightest moans slipped from his lips, his hands were so delicate as his thumb swayed on your leg back and forth, as it was now resting on your thigh. his eyes were closed, brows furrowed. one thing you noticed is he likes to kiss very slowly, he doesn’t like the idea of kissing fast. once he started he couldn’t stop the modest shy man you knew was starting to disappear. now his hands were underneath you, pushing your ass up towards him enough so your chest was against his.
his lips moved so profoundly only auditable that was heard was you two kissing and man he wasn’t lying he really did love this. he pulled away for a moment, “m’sorry… your lips are really soft I didn’t know how to stop” he smiled a blush tinting his brown skin. “no it’s okay I didn’t mind”, michael’s hands stayed in place on your ass while he lifted you up. your legs wrapped around his slender waist, as he led you into your living room. he laid you down on your back before climbing on top of you closing in any space. bringing himself back in he kissed you again although this time he had a question.
“y/n um… do you know how to french kiss?” the question made your heart spin. “kinda?” he laughed “I can teach you hold on” pressing his lips against yours again he kissed you normally for a few minutes, then he moved away placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “open your mouth a little and move as I move”. he stated the most confident sentiment of the night, obeying his tongue danced along with yours the sensation of smooching again filling up the room.
you weeped not really being able to breathe from this angle, but no way in hell were you going to tell him that. you pressed half moons into his back making him shiver in a feeling he didn’t want to express. he was hard against your thigh, very hard actually. his hips bucked up the louder the sounds got. you pushed his chest back for a second, a line of spit connecting you both made its self visible. “michael you’re…”. he immediately got shy once more, not looking you in the face. “I’ll take care of it just um.. ignore it”. you ran your hand against it, a very whiny moan left his throat. “no please I’m too sensitive”
he didn’t mean to mention his big secret. although yes the main reason he wanted to wait until marriage, was a big reason he didn’t have sex. he also felt embarrassed. every single time he hid in his bathroom flipping through a playboy magazine from his brothers, it was a must the sink or shower was on. if not all you would hear was michael making himself cry and sob as pre cum rubbed all down his dick, his eyes shut so tight tears spattered. it wasn’t really a point in the printed pictures even being there. silently pleading with himself about how intense it felt. “hmph.. ugh so… g-good mmh!” a prayer in his mind at the same time, asking god for forgiveness for how lewd his thoughts were. squashing noises in his wide hand, as hot fluid overtook his palm. the thickest shot of cum ending up on whatever surface is in front of him, making him feel guilty as he cleaned it up.
you moved your hand away “marry me” you jolted so fast pulling yourself up, as he sat down next to you on the couch. “I’m sorry did I hear you correctly?!” he giggled “marry me I.. really like you we’ve known each other for a long time so will you marry me?, I’ll get you a really pretty ring”. your arms wrapped around his neck, “michael oh my gosh!” he raised you so you were straddling around his waist. “then we can actually y’know”. you playfully gasped looking at him, “oh does michael want to be inside me?”. he bashfully shielded himself “no! that’s not the only reason!”.
you pecked his cheek “you’re so cute yes michael I’ll marry you”, he placed a little kiss on your neck. “can I stay here tonight?” you nodded as he picked you up again walking into your bedroom shutting the door.
a glimpse into a day in the honeymoon phase with you and your beau. includes fluff & soft smut, with a lil bit of angsty undertones, where you show your baby just how perfect he is, even if he keeps refusing to listen. ❤︎ ╱ unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex f!receiving, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, cockwarming.
— tw: inclusion of michael’s eating disorder
"mikey, baby..." you giggled breathlessly as you felt the softness of your boyfriend's tongue playfully kissing over the most sensitive areas of your neck. it was a cosy rainy day, so you were cuddled up in your bed, surrounded by teddies and pillows, the decor a chaotic mess from your pillow fight just thirty minutes prior. you both lay on your sides, but almost on top of each other in the manner that your limbs were interwoven, and also in how your lips didn't dare to be apart for more than a few seconds. the only sounds were wet kisses, sighs, and the comforting patter of rain on the window.
your hands were threaded comfortably through his dark curls, and you couldn't stop giggling at the ticklish yet sensual sensation stemming from his head's position beneath your jaw, still pressing kisses to your skin. he couldn't get enough of you.
"hm?” michael murmured into your neck, running his hands up and down your torso. you hadn’t been together that long, but you were both obsessed with each other, craving each other’s touch all the time. and michael was oxymoronically both a shy and passionate lover—there was passion in everything he said and did to you, but outside of sex he was often hesitant to commit sensual actions, such as gripping your ass (even as much as he wanted to) or squeezing your breasts. he overthought a lot of things, and never wanted to cross a boundary.
now though, he’d become so lost in you that for him this moment was akin to the intimacy of sex itself, and so he squeezed and grabbed at your ass through the fabric of your tiny denim shorts. you laughed airily as he did.
one of the biggest elements of your adoration for michael was that very coalescence of shyness and heated passion. his songs and stage persona spoke of the latter, and generally he embodied the former, but when it was just the two of you, him so immersed in your body, the depth of his devotion would be enacted.
“stop it, michael,” you said through breathless sighs as he started to nip at you, “i wanna see your pretty face.”
reluctantly, michael paused his bestowing of affection, and pulled back to look at you. a wide smile was brought to your face, while michael’s was bashful. he shook his head.
“why are you shaking your head?”
“callin’ me pretty…” he muttered, embarrassed. his face was still lit up, but his eyes looked a little melancholy. you hated whenever he got like that, which for michael was way more often than one should experience. and in relation to that, michael often forgot that a romantic relationship wasn’t a one-way thing—you felt for him the way he did for you, and you would never hesitate to demonstrate that.
it really did upset you, though—how he despised his looks so much. a few years ago he’d had rhinoplasty to thin out his beautiful nose, and while of course he still looked as angelic as ever—he always would—you wished you could’ve been with him at the time to convince him not to go ahead with that surgery.
“baby, don’t start that with me,” you whispered, cupping his cheek. “what did i say? every time i tell you how pretty you are, you must take it with no arguments, okay?” you rubbed your thumb over his cheekbone, before gently squeezing.
he smiled, but there was a bone-deep tiredness in his eyes that entwined with the melancholy. he had been so busy lately, and you knew he wasn’t taking care of himself. that was further evident in how quiet he’d been today, and you felt a pang of worry that he might’ve been buried in your neck for reasons other than for your pleasure.
that was true, although he wouldn’t admit it. he’d rested on your chest before settling his exhausted face into your neck in order for you to neither see how bad he supposedly looked, and so that you didn’t worry too much about the visible depletion due to over-exerting himself in rehearsal and onstage while he deliberately starved.
but while you were only in the honeymoon phase, so early on in your relationship, you knew michael well enough already. and of course it wasn’t all of a sudden in this moment that his fatigue had expressed itself in his appearance—so hiding it from you now was useless.
the two of you looked at each other, you gazing into a pair of sad eyes, and michael gazing into a pair of softly concerned ones.
“sweet boy,” you said quietly, before cupping his chin now and kissing his angel lips, both of you relishing in the comfort of how your legs were weaved as if the limbs were one. and michael was again glad that you seemed to be initiating a makeout, because that meant less time for you to think about other things that he knew you would, regarding his health.
“honey…” he murmured in between kisses, slipping in his tongue as you sighed and played with his hair.
but after a couple of minutes, you pulled back. no, you weren’t going to spend the rest of your time together with only kisses while without words. you knew he wasn’t doing well, and you wouldn’t allow him to distract his way out of the gentle confrontation you had to approach him with.
as soon as you pulled away, he held you by your neck and resumed the kiss without question. but again, you ended it.
“wha’s wrong, baby?” he furrowed his brows.
“nothing, michael—you know i could kiss you all day,” you smiled softly, but your heart ached as you looked at him.
you busied yourself with twirling one of his curls while you braced yourself for the question you were about to ask, because you knew it would make him uncomfortable. you hated to see your baby upset or put in a difficult position, but you needed to broach the subject all the same.
“then why’d y’ stop?” he asked in that beautiful, angelic cadence of his, pressing a sweet kiss to the button of your nose.
“because i need to talk to you about something.” now you interlocked your fingers with his, and his face grew concerned.
you took a deep breath. “have you eaten today?”
michael instantly averted his eyes from you, looking instead at the comforter below.
you squeezed his hand and kissed him again, momentarily this time. “no. look at me.”
reluctantly, he did.
“now answer me, michael,” you sighed, with the soothing rhythm of running your thumb over the skin of his jaw and his cheek. you didn’t want to press him like this, but you were seriously concerned. you knew that since childhood he’d had very disordered habits around eating, but recently you noticed that days passed where you could’ve sworn he hadn’t eaten a thing. and what concerned you now was that yesterday was a sunday, and for michael sundays were for fasting.
“haven’t gotten round to it yet,” he murmured, still trying to look away but each time he attempted to, you gently repositioned his attention with your gentle hand.
and michael couldn’t lie to you like he could with most people, because since he couldn’t stand to be apart from you—so deeply in love that he was—you spent virtually all your time together. even while he was still so busy, he had you with him at all times. so now, he knew that you were aware he likely hadn’t eaten. you were asking him to answer for you, but you were pretty certain already. really, the most important thing to you was that he could confront the issue and hopefully nourish his body at least a little, and even if it was for no other reason than that his girl requested it of him.
“honey,” you whispered, moving as close as you could to his warm, thin body, despite how close you were already. you held him by the nape of his neck, your other hand still holding his. “it’s four in the afternoon.”
“yeah. i’ll eat a little somethin’ later.”
“how about now?” you suggested gently. “you’re so exhausted, baby, i can see it in your face. and you have such a long day tomorrow at the studio.”
“’m not really hungry,” he muttered, but he hated being this way with you—all miserable and quiet. he was usually only ever whimsical and happy in your presence.
“that doesn’t matter when you haven’t eaten in almost two days, michael.”
your gaze never left him, and he felt anxious underneath it, but he understood that it stemmed from how much you cared.
except, he just didn’t want to eat. he deliberately used starvation as punishment and as a form of control over his chaotic existence—he had done so for years—but the restriction also tied into how he was so specific about what he ate and what it would do to his dancer’s physique. and there were also many days where he’d forget to eat simply due to obsessing over his craft. that had definitely contributed this time, but there were always a multitude of aspects.
“i know,” he smiled slightly.
“let me make you something. we can eat together, okay?”
he didn’t seem to like that suggestion, as you expected, but he nodded. “somethin’ vegetarian?”
“duh,” you grinned. “you’re my baby—i know you well enough.”
a sweet smile grew on your boyfriend’s face at that, and your heart felt that it melted. you pecked his lips several times, producing a warm laugh from his previously deflated voice.
“i love you,” you whispered. “i just wanna keep you safe and hold you here forever.”
“likewise, pretty mama.” his happy face had returned properly, and it only propelled your own further.
“mikey, don’t try to distract me now,” you laughed, squeezing his cheek. he knew how words like those, in that beautiful fucking voice of his, got you all worked up.
“that’s not what i’m doin’, honeypie,” he teased further. another thing you adored about your boyfriend was his frequent use of the cutest pet names, ones your past lovers had never used with you, and therefore forever associated with only michael.
you squinted at him playfully, nudging his bicep. “alright, i’m off to go play my ten-minute part as michael jackson’s personal chef.”
“nooo,” michael groaned, quickly pulling you snug against him so that you were flush to his chest, laid on top of his whole body. he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly so you couldn’t move. and you didn’t want to either, but your need to make him eat something overwhelmed your desire to stay cuddled up.
“mikey, it’s only ten minutes, baby,” you chuckled.
“ten minutes where i’ll be alone without you,” he frowned.
“i’m sure you’ll survive,” you grinned with a wink, before kissing his forehead, his nose and lips. then you laughed. “wink for me, baby.”
michael rolled his eyes lightheartedly. your boy never could wink, and the sight of him trying to do so always tickled you. it had stemmed from the first time you’d met, and to impress you he attempted it with the vision of looking sexy, but he ended up just blinking both eyelids. you found it hilarious, but of course it didn’t stop him from exuding the sex appeal that had drawn you to him even before you met. all his little quirks had really only amplified the way you felt about him.
now he tried to do it again at your request, but of course to no avail. all he did was blink both eyes, and together you laughed, while you still laid on top of him.
michael seized the moment to begin another passionate kiss, slipping in his tongue almost instantly, and at first, you fell for it, swirling yours with his, moaning softly into the peaceful embrace of your mouths meeting.
but then you remembered the task at hand. “nope!” you jumped off of him and stood up. “i’m going to the kitchen. you’ll see me in ten minutes.”
as you walked away, you heard michael groan again, and you chuckled to yourself.
in the kitchen you made him a tofu salad sandwich, and you sat cuddled up with him while he ate it. he did so as slow as ever, but at least he was eating. you played with his hair to distract him from his thoughts, and kissed his nose every so often to watch his bright energy light up in his eyes even if only briefly.
he didn’t finish the sandwich, but you hadn’t expected him to. you were just glad to have seen him consume most of it, because you couldn’t stand to see him so malnourished.
he was silent afterward, adding onto the comfortable silence you’d been in while he’d eaten, and you wondered if he was upset about something. he looked deep in thought.
“baby?” you asked from beside him, scratching at his scalp now in the way he always loved.
“yeah?” he replied softly, kissing your hand.
“something on your mind?”
“a few things.” michael started to smile.
“like what?” you furrowed your brows in amusement, because you knew that look on his face all too well.
“like,” he pressed several open-mouthed kisses up your arm from your wrist, “i wanna go down on you right now.”
you chuckled. “and that’s the first thing you thought of after eating that sandwich?”
“yeah. dessert,” he murmured against your skin, breathing you in happily. he was in a better mood now, and you smiled at him with just as much elation.
“well, if you’d like…”
michael grinned wider, pulling you into a kiss. you laughed into his mouth and pulled back to point something out. “but wait ten minutes, honey. you don’t want indigestion.”
michael rolled his eyes, sitting up against the headboard because he knew you were right.
“this first…” you hummed, moving over to straddle his lap. wrapping your arms around his neck, you cupped his jaw and initiated another sweet make out session.
as you kissed, sloppily and heavenly, you rocked over his clothed bulge, hardening the more you moved and the more you whined into his mouth.
then after some time had passed, while michael could’ve kissed you forever he also craved something that excited him much more. he squeezed your waist and broke the kiss, for the first time in his life.
“alright, honey, i think it’s been much more than ten minutes.”
you giggled, climbing off him to lay back against the sheets.
and while you got yourself comfortable, you watched in amusement as he began to busy himself with something. he took great care in how he maneuvered your stuffed animals to the floor, putting them down one by one.
“this isn’t appropriate for the teddy bears and the little kitties to see.”
you laughed, then squealed as he pulled your legs up, settling himself between your legs. slowly he pulled down your tiny shorts and threw them somewhere.
then, wordlessly he hooked his arms around your thighs, pressed a kiss to your centre through your panties, and wasted no time in tugging them down, although the way he did so was, as always, reverent and gentle.
upon witnessing the sight of your soaked folds, michael immediately licked one warm stripe up your slit, and you hissed, toes curling even at the first touch. then he spread your puffy folds with two fingers, and pressed a soft kiss to your waiting clit.
“i missed her,” he murmured against your bundle of nerves, and you ruffled his hair in turn, giggling.
“baby, it’s been like, four days since you last went down on me.”
his pretty brown eyes looked up into yours. “that’s a long time, angel.”
amused, you shook your head, and then he dove in properly, and your eyes clamped shut instinctively. “oh f—”
the vibration of his own moans and hums into your pussy only intensified the pleasure, and you tugged at his dark curls with no restraint.
“oh honey, y’taste incredible… like always…”
“mmghhh, just like that, baby—”
“just like this, huh, mama?” he sped up the movement of his tongue, lapping at you eagerly, up and down so that his face was rapidly becoming decorated with your juices.
“michael—”
“i love you so much…” he muttered against you, now rubbing his nose over your clit.
you almost yelled—he knew how much you loved that feeling—and your head fell back further onto the pillows, legs somehow falling even wider apart as you whined. “baby, fuck—feels so good, keep doing that—”
“could taste you forever, sweet girl…”
there was nobody who utilised pet names more than michael, and not one uttered from his lips has any falsity to it. he spoke each word with deliberate care, and the work of his mouth mirrored that same intention.
the situation in your nether region was pure filth. you were completely soaked now, sweet juices smearing all over your boyfriend’s gratified face, and dripping slick onto the sheets below.
at one point, you tugged at his curls a little too hard and he groaned into you. you opened your mouth to apologise, but only louder moans poured out.
“y’did that on purpose, baby?” michael smirked against your clit, before latching on to suck and in turn sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head again.
“no, i promise,” you chuckled through a high-pitched gasp. truly, you were tugging only absentmindedly, and the pleasure from the vibration of his sounds was a bonus.
michael laughed, then continued to ravish you, jaw working at an insane speed to pleasure each fraction of your pussy with immense dedication. too lost in the pleasure, your eyes were clamped shut, and when he brought up two fingers and pushed them in—still never letting up the work of his tongue—it was such a sudden intrusion that you were seeing stars.
michael’s fingers were so long, and so with one swift thrust inside, they without fail hit your spot instantly.
“aw, that’s it, mama… y’feel me right where y’need me most, yeah? tell me, pretty baby… need to make sure i’m pleasin’ y’ right…”
as his tongue continued to lap at you, in tandem with the quick while specific thrusts of his digits hitting your g-spot, he took even more pleasure in listening to you struggle to form a coherent response.
“michael—baby, i’m gonna cum, i’m so close—you’re perfect, fuck—”
“nonono,” he muttered just above your weeping entrance (stuffed full by those beautiful fingers) licking up the messy slick that didn’t cease to emerge. every last drop, he savoured.
but now, he took those two fingers out and began to gradually phase out the pace of his tongue—although that took quite a few moments to get him to actually stop, because of course the boy was equal parts munch and head over heels for his girl, so he found it very difficult to actually detach his mouth from your sex, no matter how hard he tried.
finally however, he pulled away. he looked up at you and wiped the space around his mouth with the back of his hand, and the sight of that casual action paired with his soft brown eyes had you feeling dizzy even though the treatment of pleasure had halted.
you were pouting at him in confusion, and he chuckled—another sound and sight that sent shivers through your spine. instinctively, you bucked your hips up a little and arched your back, grinding on the sheets without a thought.
“don’t edge me like that, mikey,” you frowned.
“’m not done, sweetheart,” michael smiled, before beginning to quickly shed his clothes. “wanna be inside you when i get you there—y’know that.”
“i do,” you grinned. “my gentleman.”
“how does that make me a gentleman?” he raised a brow, stepping out of his boxers.
you bit your lip insanely hard at what beheld—michael’s huge, thick cock leaking milky beads of precum.
but more accurately, your lip bite was a product of the feeling produced from that sight. your core ached, and again you unconsciously writhed your hips, needing to feel him so fucking bad.
then you realised you hadn’t answered his question. your boyfriend was fully naked now, and understandably that was a big distraction.
you shook your head to collect yourself. “sorry, what did you say, baby?”
“i said,” he began, while moving to settle himself over you, stroking his painfully hard cock in one hand with a wince. his other hand stroked your soft thigh. “how does wantin’ to be inside you when you cum make me a gentleman?”
“because…” you tugged his curls again but this time to pull him down for a slow kiss.
then you spoke so sincerely, surprising yourself at how the words managed to flow despite how you were insatiably horny.
“you’ve always seen sex as a sacred act. it’s so intimate and beautiful with you and i’ve never had that with anybody before. you make love, baby. so caring and passionate and… fuck, y’know, let’s stop talking—just get inside me.” you chuckled.
“honey…” he smiled wide, a beautiful expression lighting up his still-fatigued features. “i’m glad y’feel that way. always wanna make y’feel good and safe.”
“you always do, michael. without fail.”
you both looked deeply into each other’s eyes, getting lost in the so familiar orbs, and suddenly michael reached down to rub slow, perfect circles over your clit. you gasped, and immediately he interlocked his fingers with yours. he continued to pleasure your nerves as he talked.
“sex with you could never be anything less than sacred. my baby…” he started to pepper kisses over your face while you blushed and squirmed beneath him. “my beautiful girl… y’want it like this, mama?” he asked, gesturing to the position you were both in, and since you’d just spoken of intimacy, he assumed missionary was what you wanted.
he removed his thumb and now gently smacked the head of his cock over your clit, before gliding his length up and down, soaking it in a mixture of your wetness and his precum.
“mhm. need your body on mine…”
“of course, sweetheart. arms up f’me.”
you did as he asked, and gently he pulled your sweater up over your head, before silently unclasping your bra with ease. you let it fall from your shoulders.
“there, that’s better…” michael started to mouth over the most sensitive parts of your neck, making you writhe and sigh with ease. “a lot better. so fuckin’ pretty…”
now he brought his kisses down to your breasts, murmuring praise against the skin, breathing in the scent that he deemed magical.
and finally, his lips latched onto one of your nipples, with a suckle somehow both tender and rough.
“michael—need you, baby…” you whined, squeezing his hand.
“i’m right here, angel,” he muttered over your areola, kissing and licking around the nipple now.
“inside, mikey, please… need it so fucking bad.”
he pulled back and looked up for a moment, before turning to switch his affections to the other nipple. one of michael’s quirks was that he always had to balance everything out.
“no,” you countered, pushing his head back in protest. “baby, quit teasing. seriously, i’m so—”
“i know,” he chuckled, with another smack of his tip over your clit. you shuddered at the feeling.
“alright, shh. you want me like this, yeah?” michael whispered, as he leaned forward so that you both laid skin to skin, chests essentially pressed against each other.
your nipples brushed against his warm, smooth skin, and you hummed in the most thorough content.
then he leaned his forehead down to meet yours, and kissed you oh so softly, you thought you could melt in his arms.
“i love you,” you whispered against his lips—equally as gentle as everything else about him—then wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, hugging his shoulders.
“i’ll love you forever,” michael replied. “i’m so grateful for y’, honey…”
“my prince,” you grinned, cupping his cheek.
he smiled so wide, and the butterflies in your stomach were ever-prominent. with michael, they had never left since that first day.
now he kissed your cheek over and over, resting his head against yours comfortably, as he reached a hand down to slowly guide himself into your entrance.
your body seized instantly, always struggling to take him at the initial stretch, but he cooed at you through the light pain. “i know… you’ll be alright in just a moment, okay? y’take me so well, my baby girl…”
“mi—fuck—mmghhh,” you moaned and gasped as he pushed further inside. michael was only ever satisfied if he knew he was taking things at the most careful pace for you. he always searched for signs of real distress on your face, but today it was clear that you were definitely prepared, given the state of your soaking pussy.
and when he bottomed out, you sighed in sheer happiness, giggling at how beautifully full you felt. you brought a hand up to his curls, and he squeezed your other.
“what’s so funny?” he asked with a smirk.
“nothing, i’m just happy,” you smiled even brighter than before.
“’m so glad, angel,” michael whispered. “now ‘m gonna make love to you exactly how you deserve, yeah?”
you nodded and kissed his shoulder above you, but then you had a different idea.
“no, mikey, wait,” you looked up at him with sincerity, running your thumb over his knuckles. “it doesn’t always have to only be about me.”
he raised his brows in confusion, so you continued.
“i mean… sex is between the two of us—it isn’t just about my pleasure. i swear, you deserve everything that’s beautiful in this world, baby. let me show you how much i love you.”
you were beyond grateful for how michael always put your sexual needs first—every woman deserved a partner like that—but in all areas of life michael always looked down on himself, never believed he was worthy of true adoration and in turn would always shy away from anyone showing how much they appreciated him. particularly as of late, he hadn’t been taking care of himself in several ways—his food restriction being one of them, alongside his hyper-critical attitude toward his craft.
michael bit his lip and scrunched up his face in embarrassment. he loved to be intimate with you if he was the giver of such intimacy, but to be the receiver had him feeling incredibly shy, because he always believed himself unworthy.
“michael…” you smiled with an eye roll and a nudge to his bicep. “let me love on you, baby.”
now he squinted with a shy smile. “i’m the one makin’ love to you, sweetheart.”
you rolled your eyes again. “just let me show you what i mean.”
you had been stuffed full of michael’s cock for two minutes now, and you gasped at the feeling when he twitched inside your walls.
“move now, honey, please…” you sighed, tangling your fingers in his hair and digging your heels into his lower back where your legs were wrapped around him.
michael nodded with a sincere expression, and you felt that lingering butterfly sensation again, strengthened when he now thrusted for the first time.
you moaned in the utmost satisfaction as he again hit your sweet spot with ease. “oh baby…”
and before he could say something, before he could swallow your words in hot kisses, you started to worship him with both words and touch, endeavouring to make him feel so loved, despite his usual protests. he spent all his days doing that for you, so why couldn’t you replicate the same for him? you just had to get past his dismissive attitude when it came to things like this.
despite how in terms of position he was the one with the dominance, being above you and in control of the pace and depth, that didn’t affect the way you planned to take care of him that afternoon. while he took care of your pleasure, you did so with his nervous system, and his very soul. he had been so detached from self-love his entire life, and there was nothing you cherished more than possession of the ability to be the one girl who could make him understand his worth, even if that understanding only ever lasted for short moments.
you knew that michael would probably never treat himself right, that he would always believe himself to be unattractive and unworthy of everything you gave him and of what his fans gave him, but that depressing inevitability never deterred you from trying your best with him. you always tried your best to influence even the slightest self-love on his behalf, and even while it was a struggle, the result of seeing the shy brightness in his eyes and the flushed expression on his beautiful face always brought you so much relief.
“michael, baby,” you said through moans as he hit your spot with every devoted thrust, “promise you’ll listen to every word i’m about to say…”
“what d’y’ wanna say, sweet thing?” he whispered in your ear, before pressing two slow, wet kisses beneath it.
you pulled him down for a passionate kiss of your lips, the wet squelches of each smack filling the room with the sound of sex. then you moved your lips to his neck, sucking all over his most sensitive erogenous zone.
“gonna tell you how beautiful you are…” you murmured, leaving a deliberate hickey. michael continued to fuck you so perfectly, rhythm slow and deep. “how much i love you…”
he let out the most ethereal moan at the feeling of your sensuous treatment, and began playing with your fingers as he thrusted, for that was always what kept him grounded the most—especially when he felt shy. like right now, he was diffidently anticipating the words you’d choose next, in a moment that couldn’t be more intimate.
“c’mere, dollface.” he pulled back so you were made to detach your lips from his neck, and kissed your forehead, then your nose, with the sweetest smirk on his face, although you could see that telltale shyness seeping through the mask that tried to hide it.
“shh,” you whispered, heart so full and body so complete with a shuddering arousal that you felt this might be the most treasured moment in your life so far.
you noticed his hand had moved to cup your cheek, while the other was enveloped in your own hand, and you adored the way his thumb would rub circles that were half-absentminded, half with purpose.
although, it didn’t take long before he pulled back, and that hand reached down to the area that needed him most. there he circled your throbbing clit, rubbing in tight repetition. this was what he would’ve done anyway, but now you noticed he’d definitely taken the opportunity to do so as a sly method of making you so distracted that you’d stop with the intimate talk.
but if that was the case, you didn’t fall for it.
“no,” you protested, tugging him back down so your bodies were attached again. now you held the back of his neck, gripping your man so securely so that he was as close to your face as possible—but when he went in to kiss you, you squeezed his cheek and giggled.
he thrusted a little quicker all of a sudden, so the giggle was quickly cut short by a high moan from your throat, but still you remained focused. you’d been gasping and whining since he entered you, but you wouldn’t let him get away with assuming that you wouldn’t be able to talk coherently in the midst of all that. sure, he’d usually be correct, but this time you were so dedicated to talk him through it, rather than the other way round as it always had been.
still holding his hand and the nape of his neck, you noticed that even while you were pressed so close—in the most intimate form of missionary imaginable—he wasn’t looking into your eyes. he looked down at your breasts, then to the side, to your lips, but not directly into your eyes.
“my baby, listen to me, you’re so pretty…” you murmured against his lips, and he shook his head, trying to swallow your words with another kiss.
“nuh-uh,” you smiled, but admittedly bit your lip at the pleasure, and almost forgot what you were meaning to say. “angelface.” you held his chin and kissed him once, softly.
that nickname always got him so incredibly flushed, and the feeling was a million times more pronounced whenever you used it during lovemaking.
“baby…” he scrunched up his face, delving into your neck now to try to kiss you there, since you’d denied his access to your lips. but of course you refused and gently pushed his head back up again.
“michael, i’m not gonna stop ‘til you listen—oh god…”
“i get it honey, y’think i’m pretty,” he sighed, snapping his hips harder now as if a sort of physical way of changing the subject. his low grunts were somehow as soft as those of angels in your ear, and he thought the same of the sounds spilling from you too.
“it’s more than that, mich—fuck, right there…”
“right there, yeah?” he cocked his tongue to the inside of his cheek, pounding you at that same ideal rhythm.
“mhm, now—shit, oh—you’re the most beautiful man on this earth, baby… body and soul—stop talking down on yourself…”
those words you managed to declare coherently, despite the ever-building immense pleasure from his cock abusing your gummy walls with each snap of his hips.
michael still wouldn’t answer, smiling only slightly, and you playfully nudged his bicep.
“ugh, come here, i don’t care how much you try to fight it.” you dragged him into a tongue-filled kiss, running your nails up and down his back now. “you’re an angel, honey,” you sighed against his throat as you resumed your neck kisses. “my handsome angel…”
you loved to bury your head in his neck, not only for the intimacy, but because you adored his scent. it was intoxicating—a rich blend of dark florals with vanilla and masculine spice.
michael’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. the feeling of your words against his skin, with the content of them, and with how your tight, wet pussy gripped his cock so perfectly, had him wondering how you were even a real human being, let alone one he could call his own.
“you mean so much to me—mmhh—and to so many people,” you continued, kissing all over his jaw to his cheek, then over his eyelids, caressing his face with your smooth hand.
“pretty dove, i love y’ so much,” he moaned back, shutting his eyes at the beautiful sensations he was so blessed to indulge in.
“i’m with you forever, my baby…” still you sucked, nipped and kissed at his skin, and you could really feel your orgasm looming now. “you’re my fucking soulmate, baby—please—oh, baby—please look after yourself…”
you couldn’t tell his reaction to that line, because his face was already in a squint due to the force of his thrusts and due to how you made him feel, but you did notice the emotion in his eyes shift slightly.
“for me,” you whispered, pausing your affections to cup his cheek again and make direct eye contact with him.
finally, he looked at you properly. michael loved eye contact during sex—really it was usually you that ended up shy—but tonight was different, because you’d flipped the switch.
“even if you won’t do it for yourself. do it for me, please.” you suddenly felt teary-eyed—how ridiculous, you thought, to almost cry during sex, but this was probably the most passionate the two of you had ever made love, and that was a big statement to make considering passion was michael’s main endeavour.
the difference was that you had never before spoken those words to him during sex.
“c’mere, sweet girl,” he moaned, now cradling the back of your head. “i love you. i’m listenin’, i promise…”
“don’t just say that to please me, michael,” you sighed through more whines as you grew closer and closer to climax, but still never taking your mind off the topic at hand.
“i think ’m pleasin’ you enough here, angel,” he teased, and you softly nudged his arm again, but a smile escaped your lips.
“shut up,” you laughed. “stop for a sec.”
michael furrowed his brows, pausing as obligated. “everythin’ alright?”
“yes,” you kissed him deeply, “you’re making me breathless and i needed to tell you we’re one hundred percent continuing this conversation after this.”
“all i heard was ’m makin y’ breathless,” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes again.
“michael.”
he only chuckled with a shake of his head, and resumed his thrusts, now hard as ever. “i know, honey, we’ll talk,” he murmured through grunts, before crashing his lips onto yours again, still cradling your head protectively.
you whined out, gripping at his shoulder with one hand, noticing he still hadn’t let go of your other.
“oh, michael,” you nearly screamed, as his cockhead slammed into your sweet spot aggressively now. this was how you guys liked to make love—slow and soft initially, before building up to more aggressive thrusts as you each came closer to climax.
“this alright, mama?” he whispered, and your toes curled even more at the sound of his beautiful voice. “nice n’ deep, huh?”
“perfect, baby—mmhh, fuck,” you moaned as you writhed beneath him on the creaking bed. your breasts were squashed against his warm chest, heels of your feet still digging into his lower back. you were completely entwined, becoming one in the act michael cherished so much.
“you close, handsome?”
“yeah, real close—ohh—”
you started to suck and bite all over his neck again, murmuring sweet nothings into the crook as he pounded you into oblivion. you wondered how he had all this energy when he hadn’t been nourishing himself lately, but you couldn’t think too much about that now. you’d care for him in the inevitable exhaustion afterward.
“my pretty baby,” you whined into his ear, to make sure he definitely heard. “such a perfect angel… y’gonna cum for me, mikey?”
michael’s heart was racing like crazy. he was absolutely obsessed with you, enamoured of your existence, and he could never believe that this life with you was real.
as you’d assumed, nothing you ever said would make him change the outlook he had on himself. no matter how sincere your tone, he still thought he looked entirely unattractive, and he’d never for a second consider that his personality had anything resembling an angel.
and that was the only thing you could ever dislike about michael: the heart-wrenching understanding that he would never see himself the way you did.
“s’close, mama, where d’you want me to—?”
“inside, baby, please—i need your cum,” you almost groaned, needing to emphasise your point profusely. you pulled back from his neck to look into his warm brown eyes.
“but—” he tried to protest, but you shook your head and silenced him with a finger to his lips.
“i’ll take that new pill, y’know—mmhh—what’s it called? the one you can take after sex?”
michael only grinned, and set an impossibly fast pace that now sent the bed rocking with even more aggression. it was a good thing nobody was home, but the neighbours were certainly hearing your endeavours to break the bed.
each time he slid in and out of you, his cock was decorated with a milky ring of your slick, and if he wasn’t chest to chest with you, he would’ve been staring down intently at where the two of you merged. that was always one of michael’s most favourite sights.
“honey, y’sure y’ want me to cum inside?”
“yes, baby—maybe i need to start taking the pill because i—fuck—hate when you don’t… feels so good…”
“alright, let go f’me… at the same time, angel, i wanna feel it, right now…”
michael’s thrusts were becoming a little more erratic, struggling to contain his orgasm, but upon his request, your climax met his.
“oh, michael, baby—”
“i know, mama, i know…”
as usual, it was heavenly, an experience of the divine. toes curling so hard you thought you might cramp, back arching off the bed, eyes shut tight as your release flooded through you—this time made even more pleasurable by the feeling of michael’s hot seed decorating your womb. spurts of his liquid shot through you, and you tightened the lock of your ankles around his hips in an attempt to push his cum as deep as it could go.
michael’s eyes were shut, lip bitten between his teeth as he tried to calm down through the aftershocks, but once he’d semi-caught his breath, he pecked your nose and laughed.
“y’want your womb filled, angel?”
your mouth dropped open in an embarrassed shock—even though you had quite literally just begged for his cum and then physically attempted to lock in his seed deeper.
and michael was being playful with his words, but you knew how much he’d wanted kids of his own for a very long time now—the only reason he hadn’t brought up the possibility was because he was so busy with his career. and you hadn’t been a couple for all that long, but you very much enjoyed the prospect of him bringing that sort of language into the bedroom, while without the attachment of legitimate baby-making.
“i like the feeling…” you sighed, suddenly growing shy. you were filled to the brim with your man’s cum, as he looked into your eyes with a teasing smirk.
“y’want me to pull out now, or?”
“no,” you said quickly, and the desperation in your voice made him laugh again.
“okay,” he smiled, pressing one final kiss to your lips before settling his body comfortably to blanket yours—as it had already been doing, but now as though he was literally using your torso as a mattress.
his head rested between your cheek and your neck, while you ran your fingers through his soft hair. you wrapped the comforter protectively around his back.
“y’feelin’ okay?” he asked, words muffled against you.
“yes, baby, i’m perfect. how are you feeling?”
“amazin’. but tired,” he yawned. “real tired.”
“i know,” you whispered softly. “you’re so good to me honey, but don’t overexert yourself just to please me, okay?”
he made a soft sound of understanding, and snuggled further into you.
“we’ll talk later, sweet boy. get some sleep.”
and so michael drifted off into a slumber while resting inside you, humming and sighing against your neck in the comfort you provided for him. he struggled with sleep as well as food, and it brought a tear to your eye as you laid with him, to see him so safe in your arms. you were the only one who understood him, and the only one who could influence the slightest bit of self-compassion, even when he was at his lowest mentally.
he slept there for two hours inside you, which you knew wasn’t ideal for a woman not intending to get pregnant, but you found yourself unable to care. you had your beautiful sweetheart resting peacefully on top of you, and true peace had been so hard for him to achieve.
─── ❤︎ thank you for reading!! i’ve been super busy the last week so this took me a while, but i’m happy to finally post again!! :3
From the moment he laid eyes on you, stood with his sister, La Toya, introduced to the family as his sibling’s friend at Hayvenhurst for the first time, in a pretty plaid skirt and a taupe oversized sweater — he knew he loved you.
Loved you so much he’d go to the ends of the Earth for you. Travel miles just to hold you for 5 minutes. Cancel every tour, every show if you needed him, at the drop of a hat.
Especially so once you became his official girl.
He’d do absolutely anything.
Anything but make sweet love to you.
It kept you up at night — how can a man so infatuated not want to strip you bare and ravish you till the sun came up. Not want to see you, stark naked, in all your glory, writhing and whining underneath him as he took you.
Michael had his reasons.
Timidity. Inexperience. Insecurity.
But, the largest factor of all — religion.
Michael was a raised as a devoted Jehovah’s Witness — something his Mother had instilled in him from birth. A religion built on morality and modesty. A religion that forbid sexual intercourse before marriage.
Michael wasn’t as devoted as his Mother — ever since his album Off the Wall, he had slowly began parting ways with the religion. Distancing himself as the connotations of his album were subtly frowned upon due to mentions of sensuality and infidelity — however, his personal beliefs about a higher power still remained.
He still, after his parting, believed that sex was something marital and holy — something to be worshipped and protected, performed with someone you truly love and trust.
And he did. He did, wholeheartedly, love and trust you — with every fibre of his being. But, every time your hand would trickle down his body, grazing over the painfully obvious bulge that clad him beneath his slacks — he would stop you. The guilt that washed over him far greater than any aching pleasure he so desired.
As time progressed, and your relationship blossomed — that guilt diminished. Grower smaller and smaller with each tentative touch or pleading look you’d give him. Each one cracking the glass dome of restraint he had locked himself in.
You knew tonight you’d finally shattered it.
Michael was sat comfortably next to you on the sofa at Hayvenhurst, a gentle hand resting on the curve of your clothed knee, television blabbering in the background as you watched him. He looked gorgeous in every aspect, but right now — calm, relaxed, content, it took the cake.
“Watch the movie, lovey.” His voice soft and bashful, a blush creeping onto the round of his cheeks after catching you staring.
“I think my view is better.”
Michael breathed out a huff of timid air — your quick-witted flirting always got to him. “Stop. Y’know I’ll get shy.”
You giggled next to him, shuffling closer to his warm body, “I know y’beautiful, Mike.”
He laughed, turning his flushed face away from you in embarrassment, “Can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause..” “‘Cause, what, angelface?”
Michael groaned, finally returning his gaze back onto you, a smile he failed to suppress adorning his ethereal face, “‘Cause y’makin’ me think things that I shouldn’t.”
Ting!
The lustful lightbulb sparked so bright in your brain you almost saw stars.
There was your green light.
“Like what, sweetie.” Your voice now hushed, darker, deeper — an undertone of temptation that had Michael reeling inside, “Tell me.”
“B-Baby.” He was cracking — you were certain. The way he twitched as a calculated hand fell into the tense of his lap, stroking languidly along his clothed thigh, the denim scratching along your manicured nails — paired with a small knit in his eyebrows that made him look so deliciously adorable.
“What’s up, honey?” You teased, face now inches from his own bashful one, “Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ mind of yours.”
Michael whined, deep from his throat, as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your mouth moved slowly — trailing to his warm cheek, to the sharp of his jawline, and ending on the smooth of his bare neck. The gentleness of your lips against his burning skin had him fluttering his eyes shut — basking in the sensation. His hands moved subconsciously, once against your knee, now hesitantly holding the curve of your waist as you pressed yourself against him.
“Wanna hear it, Michael.”
He whined again, ever so louder this time, a statement of his timidity, “Baby, please.”
Your lips left his skin to move upwards, meeting his gaze once more. He looked wrecked — torn between honouring his devout innocence or letting his dirty mouth reveal his secrets.
You made the decision for him, clambering over him to settle in his lap, legs either side of his twitching hips. His eyes shot open in surprise.
“Honey, I-“ “It’s okay, sweet boy, I know what you’re thinkin’, anyways. Someone else is doin’ all the talkin’ for ya.”
Michael knew exactly what you were on about.
His embarrassingly obvious hard-on pressed into the softness of your clothed cunt — your skirt ridden up your thighs so perfectly that the cotton of your panties now resided directly on top of the boner he was attempting to hide. Despite never seeing his gracious cock with your own eyes, you knew he was big — every ridge now digging into the slick of your covered folds, hugging his length through his pyjamas bottoms.
“Let me make you feel better, handsome.”
Heaven and hell. That was the only thought that plagued Michael’s mind in this moment. Did he remain pledged to his beliefs, or was the way your drooling cunt wrapped around him, despite the barrier of clothing, enough to make him crack?
With one flex of his grip around your waist, and a breathy whine from your lips — the restraint shattered.
His lips met yours in a feverish connection — sloppy and messy. Spit coating your lips and chin as he forced his eager tongue into your mouth — hands now splayed across the small of your back, pushing you closer. His mouth met yours in a frantic motion, quick and rushed, like he was afraid someone, or something, would stop him at any moment. Your hands slipped up his body, resting on the lean of his shoulders, before sliding into the sweetness of his curls.
He truly crumbled when your hips began moving.
A slow, tantalising rock against him — movements so precise and languid he was certain one harsh buck and he’d fill his boxers right then and there. You had played this game with him before — being in this compromising position wasn’t new to you and Michael. You had once, in a state of pleasure, picked up your speed as you rocked against him, but he quickly shut it down. Telling you, bashfully, he was soon to finish and felt wrong about it — paired with a pout and blush.
This time, though, when your hips picked up a swifter pace — he daren’t stop you.
He’d been agonisingly hard and denied an orgasm for months now — every time he’d nearly get there, the devil on his shoulder telling him to carry on and make a mess of his shorts, the angel on the other side would force him to halt your hips to a stop, apologising at the way you’d whine in disappointment.
Michael let you take what you needed — back arched, hands threaded through his curls as you fucked yourself on his clothed cock, the prettiest noises falling from your swollen lips.
“Y’look so beautiful like this.” Michael revealed quietly, hands following the liquid movements of your hips, eyes trailing over your frame, focusing on your erect nipples poking through your tank-top, the curve of your breasts becoming more visible with each bounce.
With every drag he guided along the ridge of his cock that relentlessly nudged against your puffy clit — your whines got louder, only forcing his cock to throb beneath.
Michael, all too familiarly, held you to a stop.
“Michael.” His name fell past your lips in a desperate plea, the pleasure depleting as you stilled against his crotch.
“I know, I know, sweet girl.” He reassured, leaning up to press a gentle peck to your pouting lips, “M’not stoppin’, don’t worry that pretty head. Just wanna try somethin’.”
He lifted you off his lap with strong precision — settling you down to a place you’d not explored with the temptation between your legs.
His thigh.
“There y’go, pretty.” He whispered, smoothing down the back of your hair in kind strokes, “Go’head, baby, take what’cha you need.”
Your head reeled at the sudden change in his disposition — the once shy boy had magically been transformed into a confident man as the remains of his restraint settled around you.
His new attitude sent a pulsation so strong between your thighs you ground down on his — the tense of his muscle rolling against your nub in the most sensual way. Something you’d never quite felt before.
“Oh, God.” You whined — ignoring the way Michael tched at the name used in vain, not once stopping as he dragged you along his leg, lip caught between his teeth as he ogled at you.
“D’ya feel good, pretty?” Despite his switch in confidence, he was still desperate for your praise, his voice cracking slightly as he met your glossy eyes.
“Mmhm—s-s’good, Mikey.” Your voice hit him right where he needed you most — the place between his twitching legs that had been denied touch for so long.
You didn’t miss the way his hips bucked ever so slightly upwards, chasing a grasp he undeniably craved. Your hands soothed that ache — reaching forward, ever so hesitantly, to palm the bulge in his slacks.
Michael gasped, hand flinching at your side, frantic eyes meeting yours once more, “This okay, angel?” You questioned.
Michael’s lip sucked between his teeth once again, glance flickering from your gorgeous smile to your manicured hands hovering over his crotch. An act he would once deny — but not this time.
He hummed, his voice high-pitched and needy, nodding quickly, “Please, mama.”
A curse fell from your swollen rosebud at the sound of his despair — your hand enveloping around his length beneath his bottoms.
“Oh, my Lord.”
He was done for — head falling back against the plush of the sofa, eyes rolled to his skull as the pleasure washed over him. You wasted no time in pleasing the man beneath you, never once stopping rocking your hips against him, as you slowly stroked him.
The scene was erotic — a dirty array of arousal in the way he bucked his hips unapologetically into your hand, cock throbbing under your palm, as you continued to hump the meat of this thigh, your slick staining the blue denim that had trickled from your soaked panties. It was enough for him — no direct physical contact, but just the right amount of pleasure to satisfy you both.
When your thumb swiped over the oozing head of his cock, Michael lost it. Whining so loud like he didn’t care who heard — the sudden boldness depleting faster than it had come around, now replaced by uncontrollable desperation.
“O-Oh, s-shit,” The curse fell from his mouth before he could suppress it, “G-Gonna cum, lovey.” His hips now fucking up into your hand pathetically, chasing a high he’d been yearning for for so long.
In your own state of blinding pleasure, your only response was a melodic whimper, his tensing thigh hitting the ridge of your clit that had your own orgasm building. Michael, with no prior warning, came with a cry, his milky white release soaking the material of his boxers — the neediest whines of lust filling the room. You soon followed — an exclaim of his name hitting his ears, only furthering his pleasure, as you came undone on his thigh, humping him at such a speed you were almost a blur in his glassy vision.
Michael heaved as he came down from a high that had been lingering on his mind since the moment you met him — an orgasm so strong he was twitching uncontrollably. You stilled against his leg, catching your breath simultaneously, peering down at his fucked out state.
“Thank you, pretty.”
“Ah, ah, I’m not done with you yet.”
Michael swore he died and went to heaven as you dropped to your knees beneath him — eyes hungry and dark, agenda unclear to him.
It was only when you lay your tongue flat against the rough of his jeans, the ones you had once fucked yourself on, licking up your essence that clad the denim, that Michael realised how much of a sex-hungry slut you were. The tang of your seeping arousal lingered on your tongue as you lapped up the mess you’d made on him — glancing up at him through your lashes at his knitted eyebrows and agape mouth. His suspicion that you were a cock-slut only deepening as you retracted your tongue back into your mouth, savouring the taste of yourself, and kissed your way up his leg, getting dangerously close to where he was pulsating.
“Mama, I—“ “Shhh, just gonna clean y’up, baby.”
Michael saw stars when you shoved his pyjama bottoms down his thighs and latched your greedy mouth to the wet spot that clad his boxers, a crackled groan ripping from his throat as you hummed around him. Your lips, settling right against the softening tip of his cock, suckled the cum straight from the cotton — his salty release flooding your tastebuds, colliding with the tang of your own essence in a delicious blaze on your tongue. His hand flew down to cradle your cheek as you lapped up the cum that stained him — his cock throbbing once more as your hands gripped his thighs, jeans now even more wet from your eager mouth.
“Baby—fuck, I-I’m gonn—“ With a strangled cry, another irrepressible spurt of cum shot from him once more, hands tightening ever so slightly around your flushed cheek as you greedily sucked up what he blessed you with — lapping up his second orgasm like you were dying of thirst.
Only when you pulled away, satisfied with your salty refreshment, did Michael’s breathing level out — blissed out expression meeting your devilish one.
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