ᢉ𐭩 mon chéri ; 1982 - part iii
description: six months after telling michael jackson to leave, you run into him in paris. one night turns into old memories, old feelings, and the realization that maybe some goodbyes were never meant to be forever.
warning: 18+, smut, heavy angst, jealousy, soft dom!mike, reunited love, once again SMUT, ANGST!!! (yes michael cries)
a/n: this story is apart of a series (part i)(part ii) hope yall enjoy, sorry for such a long wait on this. (LONG READ)
paris was never supposed to happen.
six months ago, you were sitting on your bedroom floor with mascara running down your face, listening to your father pace downstairs while the sound of a closing window echoed in your head.
now, you were twenty-one years old, standing in the backseat of a black town car as it crawled through the streets of paris, france.
you still weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten here. well, that wasn’t true. it had started with a newspaper. a stupid newspaper.
one photograph. one headline. one moment captured forever; the one of you and michael. from there, everything happened too quickly. an agency called, then another.
then came the magazine shoots, the commercials, the flights, the interviews, the fittings, the photographers shouting your name like they’d known it their whole lives.
you never went to modeling school. never learned how to walk a runway properly.
yet somehow, at twenty-one years old, you found yourself sitting in the back of a town car weaving through manhattan traffic, trying not to wrinkle the cream-colored suit your stylist had insisted on.
beside you, your assistant flipped through a thick folder, muttering under her breath. “okay, so chicago next week is confirmed,” she said, not looking up. “and the cover shoot got moved to thursday.”
you nodded absentmindedly, your eyes fixed on the city passing by outside.
“oh—and i almost forgot.”
that got your attention, drawing your eyes to hers. “what?”
for the first time all morning, she looked up and smiled. “a campaign in paris.”
“a campaign.” she laughed. “in paris.”
you stared at her. “paris, france?” you couldn’t believe what she was really saying.
you laughed despite yourself. “you’re joking.” your head tilted with an amused expression.
“i’m serious.” she pulled a file from the folder and handed it to you. you barely heard the rest of what she was saying, luxury campaign, international release, exclusive guest list. all you heard was the word paris.
your fingers tightened around the paper, hope shooting through the veins in your body, excited for what’s to come.
six months ago, you were just struggling to fill out modeling school applications and now you were going to paris, life was funny like that.
“so?” your assistant grinned.
you looked back down at the packet in your lap. then out the window and in a very long time, you smiled. “wow… this is going to be great.” you sighed in excitement. “i should call kurt.” you smiled. “he’ll freak out.”
your assistant raises only one of her eyebrows in question. “of course he’s the first person you’d call.” she groaned humorously.
you chuckled as you ran your fingers through your hair. “i don’t know, we’re something.”
“something? like together? dating.. in a relationship?” she questions, clearly in a concerned manner. although this was your assistant, she somehow collected the idea that no man was ever good enough for you.
somewhere along the way, you’d found yourself spending more and more time with kurtis blow. you two weren’t official, nor serious. something was there, but neither of you could put a name on it.
“whatever… what’s for lunch.” you say just before letting out a chuckle at your assistants facial expressions.
the first thing you noticed about paris was that it smelled expensive, not in a literal sense, not like perfume or champagne. just… expensive.
every building looked like it had been painted by hand. every person looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. even the air felt prettier somehow.
you tried not to stare as the car pulled beneath the entrance of the hotel. “welcome to paris,” your assistant grinned, already reaching for the door handle.
you laughed nervously. “don’t say it like that.”
“say what?” she said concerned in your confidence and excitement.
“like i’m supposed to belong here.”
she gave you a look. “girl, you do belong here. and you know it.”
before you could argue, a hotel employee opened your door. camera flashes immediately exploded somewhere nearby. you blinked, then blinked again.
right. this was your life now. you slipped on your sunglasses and stepped out onto the sidewalk, forcing yourself to smile as voices called your name.
the lobby was worse, marble floors, gold accents, chandeliers, people in clothes worth more than you could ever guess.
you suddenly felt twenty-one again; small. your assistant, of course, didn’t. “okay,” she said, flipping through her clipboard while the elevator climbed. “fitting at five. welcome reception at eight. and tomorrow’s table read is at ten.”
you nodded. “who else is doing the campaign?”
she shrugged. “they’re keeping most of the talent confidential.”
of course they were. you spent the next few hours trying not to panic. getting your hair and makeup done, then surviving fittings and photographs. by the time eight o’clock rolled around, your feet hurt and you were beginning to regret every decision that had led you to paris.
the ballroom downstairs was already packed while music drifted through the room. champagne glasses clinked and some people laughed too loudly.
your assistant disappeared almost immediately. kurtis was somewhere near the bar talking to a producer. and suddenly, despite being surrounded by hundreds of people, you felt completely alone.
you grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray, and then another. you’d barely lifted the second one to your lips when you heard it. a laugh so soft and familiar, making your feet plant and heart stop.
‘no. it can’t be.’ you thought to yourself. you knew that laugh and you’d recognize it anywhere. slowly, against every instinct telling you not to, you turned and there he was.
standing across the room in a fitted black suit, dark curls falling around his face. one hand shoved awkwardly into his pocket while he laughed at something one of his brothers had said.
for one horrible second, the entire room disappeared. there was no music, no conversation, and no paris. just him; michael. he looked older, more handsome, more famous, yet exactly the same.
as if he felt it, he looked up. and his smile disappeared. your breath caught. you hadn’t seen him in six months. not since he climbed out of your bedroom window.
for a moment, neither of you moved. then someone bumped into you from behind. the spell broke, but you looked away first. of course you did. your hands suddenly felt too warm, your dress too tight, and heart too loud.
kurtis had appeared beside you.
you forced a smile. “yeah.”
he glanced across the room. then back at you. “you don’t look okay.”
you opened your mouth to answer. but before you could, you felt it. that feeling. the unmistakable sensation of someone looking at you and you already knew who it was.
somehow, after six months apart, michael jackson was still making you nervous. you forced a smile at kurtis. “i’m gonna find the restroom before i embarrass myself and trip over these shoes.”
he laughed. “take your time. i’ll save your drink.”
you nodded, grateful for the excuse. truthfully, you just needed a second to breathe.
because michael jackson was standing less than thirty feet away. every time you looked up, he was looking back.
you slipped away from kurtis, weaving through clusters of actors, photographers, and executives, keeping your eyes fixed on the marble floor.
you almost made it. almost.
a hand grabbed your forearm, spinning you around.
“marlon?” you say, trying your best to sound interested although you were anxious deep down.
marlon jackson grinned at you like he’d just discovered buried treasure. “i knew that was you!” he exclaimed, far louder than necessary.
you couldn’t help but laugh.
“oh my god, look at you!” he said, pulling back to get a better look. “paris? miss international? that’s crazy.”
“you’re one to talk.” you reply, now relaxing into the conversation. you were once avoiding.
“nah, nah.” he waved his hand. “i’m serious.”
then his expression changed and the grin turned mischievous.
‘oh hell no.’ you thought to yourself, eyes shutting in embarrassment and shame.
before you could stop him, marlon turned over his shoulder. “mike!”
“marlon—” you tried to stop him.
“michael!” he called again.
you considered running. seriously, you were about to rush out of there. but it was too late. because michael was already making his way over. and somehow, after six months apart, he still walked exactly the same.
a little shy and a little awkward. hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. for a moment, neither of you spoke. marlon, however, had no such problem.
“there,” he announced proudly. “you two talk.”
you laughed nervously. “marlon—”
“i’m serious! y’all been staring at each other all night.”
“marlon.” michael spoke softly, it was clear the nerves were eating at him too.
“what?” he looked genuinely confused. “i’m helping.”
michael groaned softly. “marlon…” he repeated, a bit more stern this time.
“okay, okay.” he threw his hands up. “i’m leaving.” he leaned toward michael. “don’t mess it up—again.” then he disappeared into the crowd.
the silence that followed was almost worse. you looked at michael and he looked at you, then the floor. his eyes finally shooting back at you.
you smiled despite yourself. “hi.”
“you look…” he paused. “really beautiful.”
your heart betrayed you immediately. your breath catching in your throat at his words. “thank you.”
he nodded. “yeah.” then came more silence. god, it was so deafening.
six months ago you’d screamed at him to leave your house. now you couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“so…” he finally managed. “paris.”
and somehow that made everything easier. “a campaign?” he asked.
you nodded. “yeah. it sure is something.”
“that’s…” he smiled. “that’s really amazing.” his face lit in excitement. you could tell he was proud.
“thank you.” you say, eyes fluttering. you gently tucked a curl behind your hair, trying to calm your nerves.
his eyes dropped for a second and then he carefully asked it. carefully enough that you knew he’d been thinking about it all night. “so…” he swallowed. “the guy you came with.”
‘oh..’ you thought to yourself, that flustered feeling that was shooting through you was replaced by nervousness.
you glanced over his shoulder and kurtis was still by the bar. “oh” you spoke softly, just before looking back at michael.”
michael’s face remained neutral, way too neutral that it almost worried you. “yeah.”
you smiled softly. “he’s just a friend.”
ever since he’d walked over, michael visibly relaxed. “oh.”
you tried not to smile at that. “yeah. just a friend.” you reassured. your heart doing circles by the way he reacted.
he nodded. “okay.” the silence between the two of you had came back again. but this one felt lighter, even easier. and for the first time that night, you wondered if maybe seeing him again hadn’t been a mistake after all.
about an hour later, you’d almost convinced yourself to leave. your feet were hurting, social battery dead. and the champagne was beginning to taste expensive rather than good.
you stepped out onto the terrace for air. the city stretched out beneath you. beautiful and quiet. you heard footsteps. you didn’t have to turn around, already aware of who it was.
“hey.” his voice chummed through the cool air.
michael stepped beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. for a moment, neither of you spoke. then he looked out at the lights.
“do you…” he laughed nervously. “this is gonna sound stupid.”
“probably.” you giggle to yourself, eyes still capturing the view of the city lights.
he laughed again. “do you wanna get out of here?”
you turned to face him. “what?”
he shrugged, his facial expression nervous, yet mischievous. “i don’t know. walk around.” he smiled. “pretend we’re normal for a little while.” the nervousness disappeared. because that’s exactly what you wanted, too.
you stared at him for a moment. “you mean… leave?”
he nodded carelessly. “yeah.”
“michael, we’re in paris.”
“and you’re michael jackson.” you chuckled, remembering his fame as if you could ever forget.
that familiar grin appeared on his face. “only sometimes.”
you laughed. “how exactly do you plan on getting us out of here?”
his expression immediately changed and the confidence disappeared, “i… didn’t think that far.”
you laughed again. of course he didn’t.
“wait.” you shifted your purse onto the marble railing and began digging through it. seeing receipts, lipstick, a compact mirror, and three packs of gum. michael leaned over curiously.
“don’t judge me.” you say, eyes focused on the disorganization of your products in your purse.
“i’m not.” he said softly, in a reassuring tone.
you pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses, then another pair, and then a silk scarf.
michael blinked. “why do you have two pairs of sunglasses?”
you hold up the second pair of sunglasses, they were enormous. like insanely enormous. the kind that swallowed half of your face. you immediately burst out laughing. “my goodness.”
“what?” he asked, a small perk of the corner of his lip rising, in awe of the amusement in your laugh.
“i forgot these were in here.”
he took them from you and immediately started laughing too just as he inspected them.“what are these?”
“they’re from a photoshoot.” you say, while closing your purse.
“a photoshoot for what?” the questions kept coming.
“i don’t know!” you snatched them back. “they said they were fashionable.”
you stared at him and then burst into another fit of laughter. for the first time all evening, neither of you felt awkward, just stupid. and somehow, that felt familiar.
you wrapped the scarf around your hair and michael reluctantly put on the giant sunglasses. you looked at him, and he looked at you. then both of you started laughing again.
“you look ridiculous.” you teased.
“i look ridiculous?” he scoffed. “you look like you’re hiding from the government.”
“because if anyone recognizes us, i’m blaming you.”
he smiled, and god you’d forgotten that smile. the one that made him look seventeen instead of twenty-two. the one that made you forget every reason you were supposed to be angry with him. “come on,” he said. and before you could overthink it, you followed him.
paris looked different at night. it was much quieter, and softer. the city lights reflected against the river, and for the first time since you’d arrived, it didn’t feel intimidating, yet magical.
the two of you walked for what felt like hours. you bought roasted chestnuts from a street vendor. michael hated them. you laughed so hard you nearly dropped yours.
he told you stories from tour. you told him about your first magazine cover. he admitted he’d bought three copies. you stopped walking.
“you did not.” you said in disbelief.
a grin appeared on his face. “i did, really.”
you couldn’t help but wonder. not only about the magazine, but your situation. “why?”
he shrugged. “i don’t know.”
you smiled and you both knew that was a lie. later, somehow, you ended up standing beneath the eiffel tower. you’d seen so many photographs, movies, and postcards. none of them had prepared you for it.
“wow,” you whispered. absorbing the breathtaking view.
beside you, michael nodded. “yeah.”
he wasn’t even looking at the tower, he was just looking down at you.
your heart stumbled and for one terrifying second, you thought he might kiss you. and maybe he thought so too. because his expression changed, it softened. the city felt as if it disappeared.
then someone nearby shouted. the spell broke once more. you both laughed nervously, relieved, or disappointed. you weren’t sure which.
“it’s getting late,” you finally said.
he nodded. “yeah. it is.”
neither of you moved. eventually, you found yourselves back outside the hotel. the same hotel with the same entrance and the same problem. the two of you eyed each other. both of you admiring each other nervously, but also the both of you clearly holding back.
“i had fun,” he said quietly.
you smiled softly, readjusting your purse on your shoulder. “me too.”
silence struck again. then he opened his arms, just slightly. asking; not assuming. you stepped forward. his arms wrapped around you, so warm and familiar. it felt like home.
you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed being held by him until that moment. and apparently, neither had he. because when you tried to pull away, he didn’t let go. not immediately. and when he finally did, he smiled.
it was a small, sad smile. with a hint of hope tugging on his lips. “goodnight.”
you swallowed. “goodnight, michael.”
neither of you turned around right away. and for a while in six months, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe some things weren’t over after all.
you woke up smiling. which, in hindsight, should have been your first warning sign. because the second your eyes opened and you remembered paris, the eiffel tower, michael’s laugh, and the way he’d held you just a little too long outside the hotel, reality came crashing back.
you sat up. oh, god. you’d disappeared for almost five hours; with michael jackson in paris. your assistant was going to kill you, she almost did. “where were you?”
you winced as she stood behind you, arms crossed in the reflection of the vanity mirror while a makeup artist dabbed powder onto your cheek.
“good morning to you, too.” you groan.
“don’t ‘good morning’ me.” she leaned closer. “where were you?”
you glanced at the makeup artist, then at the hairstylist and then back at her. “i went for a walk.”
she stared. “with who?” her eyebrow raising.
you sighed. “mickey.” you shook your head with sight shame.
the makeup artist continued working. thank god. your assistant, however, looked like she wanted to throw the makeup brush at you.
“mickey?” she whispered harshly. “you disappeared into paris with mickey?”
you rubbed your temples. “please don’t say it like that.”
“how am i supposed to say it?” she said sternly. your assistant already knew about you and michael, and your situation. mickey was just a nickname the two of you used in public.
you didn’t answer because there wasn’t one. she sat down in the chair beside you.
“okay. tell me everything.” and somehow, despite yourself, you did. speaking up about the disguises and the street food. explaining the way you couldn’t stop laughing and how beautiful the eiffel tower was. even mentioning the hug. all of it.
by the end, she was staring at you like you’d confessed to robbing a bank. “you are in trouble.”
you scoffed. “that’s not news.” you sighed, trying not to move your face too much during the application of eyeshadow.
“no.” she shook her head. “i mean you still like him.” you looked away and the silence was answer enough. she softened, her body relaxing for once. “look, i know what happened between you two was… whatever it was.”
you laughed bitterly. “that’s one way to put it.”
“but you have to be smart.” there it was.
the thing you’d been trying not to think about, the thing that the laughs and gazes were holding you back from realizing “smart?”
“you’re twenty-one years old. your career is finally happening. people know your face now.” she lowered her voice.
“you cannot afford dating rumors.” the words landed harder than you expected.
because she wasn’t wrong. you thought about the newspapers, about the articles, and yes—about your father.
about the fact that six months ago, loving michael jackson had broken your heart. and somehow, after one night in paris, you’d almost let yourself forget.
“you’re right,” you said quietly. she squeezed your hand. “just be careful.”
by the time you arrived on set, you’d convinced yourself that everything was normal.
last night had been a beautiful, sweet mistake. you repeated that to yourself three times before stepping out of the car. then you saw him. michael stood near one of the cameras, laughing with a crew member. when he noticed you, his face lit up.
actually lit up and that definitely made this way harder.
you smiled. trying your best to keep it small, polite, and professional. you hated yourself for it immediately.
“hey,” he said as you approached.
“hey.” you responded softly.
he blinked at your dryness. he could see your entire demeanor differentiating from what he had seen the night before. “did you sleep okay?”
“yeah.” you sighed. running your hands through your hair nervously.
“good.” he spoke, his eyes refusing to leave your face, trying to figure out why you were so guarded all of a sudden.
there was silence. you looked down at your call sheet and michael just looked at you. you looked anywhere but at him. “well,” you said finally. “i should probably get to wardrobe.”
“right, okay.” he smiled. but it didn’t reach his eyes like it usually does.
“yeah.” you nodded before walking away.
and for the entire you’ve seen him in paris, you felt guilty. the day only got worse.
because kurtis was there. and kurtis was easy to laugh with and talk to. much less complex when it came to pretending everything was fine. so you did.
you laughed at his jokes and sat beside him during lunch. you let him sling an arm over your shoulder when he showed you a magazine article.
none of it meant anything. which didn’t do any good. the foaming feeling of guilt began to build up inside of you. because every time you looked up, michael was watching.
he didn’t appear angry, jealous, or hurt. and in a way, that was harder to bear. by sunset, filming had wrapped.
everyone gathered around as the campaign director climbed onto the stage with a champagne glass in hand. “ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “i think we have created something very special.”
applause erupted. he grinned. because of that, tonight we celebrate.” applause struck throughout the room once more. “a final dinner. eight o’clock. black tie.”
the room erupted into cheers, some people hugged, laughed, and even made plans. you just forced yourself to smile. across the room, michael wasn’t smiling. he was looking at you. it was hard, because you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.
the dinner was beautiful, which was unfortunate. because if it had been ugly, or boring, or held in some dimly lit conference room with stale bread rolls and folding chairs, maybe you would’ve had an excuse for feeling miserable.
instead, it was held on the top floor of the hotel, candles flickered across white tablecloths and a string quartet played softly in the corner.
the entire city of paris glittered beneath the windows. and michael sat directly across from you. you realized this approximately three seconds after taking your seat. of course he did. you could feel his eyes on you before you’d even unfolded your napkin.
to your right sat kurtis. to michael’s right sat a french actress whose name you’d already forgotten. you told yourself not to look. but of course you did it anyway. michael was laughing. his hand covering his mouth, head tilted back slightly and the actress touched his arm.
your stomach twisted, good. let him laugh. you finally turned back to kurtis. “what were you saying?”
he smiled. “i said, if this modeling thing doesn’t work out, you could always become a professional liar.”
you laughed. “why?” eyebrows furrowing, a bit worried.
“because you’ve spent the entire night pretending you’re not somewhere else.”
you nearly choked on your wine. across the table, michael’s laughter stopped. you didn’t have to look to know why; you felt it.
kurtis leaned closer. “seriously. you okay?” he spoke in a soft manner. kurtis could tell you had been distracted the entire trip, but he couldn’t help but be concerned.
“i’m fine.” you murmured, while taking one more sip.
“you sure?” he said, hand gently brushing over yours. michael noticed immediately.
“positive.” another lie escapes your mouth.
the dinner continued. courses came and went. wine glasses emptied and filled again. despite sitting at the same table, you and michael hadn’t spoken a single word to each other.
instead, you played your game. you laughed a little harder at kurtis’s jokes. michael smiled a little wider at the actress beside him.
you touched kurtis’s arm while the actress whispered something in michael’s ear. you hated yourself for noticing. apparently, he hated himself for noticing, too.
because every time you looked up, he was already looking at you. finally, somewhere between dessert and coffee, one of the campaign executives raised his glass.
“i have a question.” everyone groaned.
“oh, come on.” he laughed. “humor me.”
the table quieted. he grinned. “how do you know when someone is worth committing to?” laughter followed, then a few people exchanged amused looks. the actress beside michael smiled. “that’s easy.”
“oh?” someone asked. “when they make your life easier.” then there was more laughter.
another person chimed in. “when they make you laugh.” you heard from the corner of the room. “when they’re rich,” someone else joked.
the table erupted. you just smiled politely.
then someone turned to michael. “what about you?”
your heart stopped. michael looked down at the table. for a moment, you thought he was going to laugh it off.
instead, he picked up his wine glass. turned it slowly and spoke, very quietly. “i think…” he paused. his eyes finding yours. “i think if someone really wanted you…”
“…they would’ve said it before you found somebody else.”
the laughter disappeared, not completely. but just enough. just enough for you to know. the rest of the table looked thoughtful, amused, and interested.
they thought he was speaking generally. they didn’t know. they didn’t know about the phone calls. the studio 54 dance floor. the bedroom, or the window.
they didn’t know that six months ago, you’d watched him disappear into the dark. looking down into your lap you noticed your hands were shaking. someone laughed awkwardly. “that’s a little depressing.”
a few others chuckled. but michael didn’t. he was still looking at you. then he spoke again. softer. but it was somehow even worse. “but i guess some people are better at moving on than others.”
silence. not complete silence. a few sounds of amusement coming from others. but the silence between the two of you stung. just enough to hurt.
your chair scraped loudly against the floor. every head turned. “excuse me,” you said. you didn’t wait for an answer or look at kurtis.
you didn’t look at anyone, especially not him. you walked straight out of the room. and behind you, you could feel michael stand up, too. you barely made it to the elevator lobby before you heard the sound of your name striking the air.
not the polished, public version of it. but the way he said it, like he always did. you ignored him angrily, continuing to walk away.
The marble floor echoed beneath your heels. The music from the ballroom faded behind you. You pressed the button for the elevator once.
then twice. “wait.” the sound of his voice creeped on you, making you close your eyes. of course he followed you.
you turned just as michael reached you. his suit jacket hung open now. his curls were slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his hands through them all night.
for a moment, neither of you spoke. the anger you’d carried out of the dining room was still there. but so was the hurt.
“i’m sorry,” he said first. the words came quickly. like he’d been rehearsing them all the way down the hall. “i shouldn’t have said that.”
you laughed once to yourself. not because it was funny. but because you couldn’t believe this was happening. “you think?”
his shoulders dropped in disappointment. “i know.” the elevator doors opened. neither of you got on. the doors closed again.
“i didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said quietly. all you could do was stare at him.
“then what did you mean to do?”
his jaw clenched at your words, “i don’t know.”
“that’s not an answer i deserve, michael.”
“no, it isn’t.” his voice now small, he glanced down at his feet. the honesty of it caught you off guard.
you folded your arms over yourself. “do you have any idea what that felt like?” you asked. his eyes lifted to yours. “everyone was staring.”
“i know.” michael murmured, as if that was supposed to help.
“you made me feel like…” your voice cracked. “like i did something terrible.”
michael looked away. the silence stretching between the two of you. then he laughed lowly to himself. not happliy, but it was the kind of laugh that happened when there was nothing else left.
“you want to know what felt terrible?” he questioned. eyes hesitating to meet yours, his hands crumbling into fists.
you blinked. “what michael?”
he finally looked back at you. “watching you with him.” the words landed harder than you expected.
“kurtis?” you question, almost unbelievably.
“no.” he shook his head, interrupting you. “no, because last night you told me he was just a friend.” his tone was a bit more upset now, with an under layer of hurt.
“he is my friend.” you say, hands moving about in the air, emotions accelerating.
“then why were you laughing with him all day? joking with him, playing with him, even—touching him.”
you just stared blankly. “what?”
“its like you couldn’t even look at me.” michael’s voice cracked. his eyebrows lifting in sorrow.
“because i was trying to be smart michael!” you try to explain. the words echoed through the empty lobby.
his expression changed, less guarded and more confused. “smart?”
“yes.” you threw your hands up. “smart, careful, and realistic! the things i’ve never been whenever i’m around you.”
michael looked wounded. “what does that mean?”
“it means this isn’t a game!” the tears you’d spent all evening holding back finally burned at the corners of your eyes.
“you think i don’t know what happens when people think you’re dating someone? you think i don’t know what happened the last time i let myself—”
you stopped. the tears threatening to fall. the weight of pain colliding in your chest.
michael took a step closer. “the last time you let yourself what?” his eyes now softer.
you shook your head. “no. i’m done.”
“tell me.” michael insisted.
“no.” you force out once again. you knew if you kept talking the tears would eventually come streaming down.
he laughed bitterly. “that’s funny.”
“what?” your face scrunched into a hurtful look of confusion. your on the verge of sobbing and he’s laughing.
“because i spent six months wondering why you told me to leave.” the air left your lungs. he wasn’t angry anymore. “i waited,” he said quietly.
you just looked at him. “what do you mean?”
“the night i left.” his voice had dropped to almost nothing. “i waited outside your house.”
your heart stopped in its tracks. “what?” you repeat. not understanding michael’s clear words. but it was more like you were realizing.
“i sat in my car for twenty minutes.” he looked down. “i thought you’d come after me.”
it felt like the world had tilted, your heart fluttering as you spoke. “i wanted to.” the confession escaped before you could stop it.
he looked up. you could see the hope in his face. you also noticed the hurt.
“i wanted to stop you,” you whispered. “i wanted to tell you to stay.”
“then why didn’t you?” he questioned, taking another step closer.
you stayed quiet because you were scared. he was leaving and you knew you’d love him too much to survive losing him twice. instead, you laughed and a tear fell at the same time. “you left.” the words broke something open.
“you left, michael.” trying to soothe the intense emotions striking at your veins, you pushed a hair behind your ears.
his face crumpled. “i know i did.”
“no, you don’t.” you stepped toward him.“i waited for your phone calls.” taking one more step, you admitted. “i missed you before you were even gone and god, i hated myself for loving you.”
michael had closed his eyes and when he opened them again, you saw it. the same look he’d worn six months ago. standing by your bedroom window. “i never stopped loving you.”
the world went silent. not the hotel. not paris. but you did. you stared at him painfully. he laughed through a breath. “i tried.” now he was shaking his head. “i really tried.”
your chest hurt. because you’d tried too, and failed. “i loved you,” you whispered.
his eyes filled. “i know.”
“no.” you shook your head. “i dont think you understand, michael.” you stepped closer. close enough to see the exhaustion in his face. close enough to remember every version of him you’d ever known. “i still do.”
michael lovingly observed you. admiring the way your curls sat upon your head, and the way you smiled despite the tears. the city lights glowed through the windows behind you. neither of you moved or breath.
then you said the thing you’d been carrying for six months. “i should’ve told you before you climbed out of my window.”
the pain on his face vanished. not because it stopped hurting. because he finally understood. he reached for your hand slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t.
“i waited for you to stop me,” he admitted. a tear slid down your cheek. “i know.”
he laughed softly. “i was so angry. angry at the miscommunication, and i was trying to hide how i felt deep down.”
“so was i.” you say softly, looking up into his big brown orbs.
“i thought you hated me.” the words flowed from his lips, something you thought you’d never hear.
you shook your head. “i was terrified.” for the first time all night, you both smiled.
the smile was small, broken, but honest. then michael’s foot took a closer step. then his lips were on yours. his hands cupped your face carefully, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear.
the kiss was six months of anger, grief, regret, longing, and love crashing together all at once. the urgency melts into something heavy and adoring. his lips slow against yours, tasting like desperation and devotion, hands sweeping up your back to pull you impossibly closer.
"i missed you so much it hurt," he whispers between kisses, pouring every broken apology into your mouth. the romantic longing turns heated, his tongue sliding deeper, one hand dropping to grip your waist firmly.
his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his body until there's no space left between you. the kiss turns wet and urgent, his tongue stroking yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that makes your knees weak.
the romantic apology melts seamlessly into hunger, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he sucks it gently into his mouth. "i need you."
you break the kiss, panting softly as you hears the elevator beep. "not here.” you whisper urgently, pushing gently against his chest.
michael groans in protest but nods, understanding immediately. he presses one last quick kiss to her lips before stepping back just as the elevator doors open down the hallway.
"come with me," michael said, eyes dark with want as he grabs your hand and pulls you down the hallway toward the penthouse.
your heels click against marble floors, heart racing. the keycard barely scans the door before he's guiding you inside, kicking it shut behind him.
you're pressed against it instantly, his mouth on your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. "i missed you so much it killed me," you breathe against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair. "every night without you was..." you trail off as his mouth moves down your neck, his hands sliding up your thighs.
he groans against your skin. "don't," he mutters, though he doesn't stop. "don't say that."
"i needed you," you whisper against his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders desperately. "i still need you."
michael lets out a broken sound, half-groan half-sob, and kisses you like he's starving. his hips press you into the door, hard and demanding. "i'm right here," he breathes, kissing your cheeks, your jaw, your eyelids.
he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and starts kissing you sloppily as he walks towards the bedroom.
you bump into a table, a lamp, the doorway—laughing breathlessly into his mouth. he stumbles onto the bed, falling on top of you, still kissing you like his life depends on it.
they fumble with each other's clothes, lips never breaking apart. shirts are pulled off, tossed aside. hands shake with need as they push down pants, kick off shoes. underwear is yanked down, thrown somewhere in the room. skin meets skin finally, both of them completely naked and desperate for each other.
"i missed your mouth on me," you groan, rolling your hips against his. "i missed how you make me feel like i'm the only woman in the world."
michael buries his face in your neck, breathing you in. "i missed driving you crazy," he murmurs against your skin. "how you arch when i..." he demonstrates, thumb brushing your sweet spot.
"and how you bite your lip when you get close.” he groans, kissing your shoulder. "how you wrap yourself around me and make those little noises.”
your hands slide down his back, pulling him closer. "i missed how you taste, how you smell, how you look at me like—like you're starving," you finish breathlessly, kissing his jaw.
"god, i need you," michael groans against your skin. "i've needed you every second since i left." he pushes your legs apart and buries his face between them, eating you out from behind as you arch wildly. "i missed this pussy, so beautiful.” he mutters against your clit.
"mmmm... michael..." you slur hazily, gripping his hair. "yes, right there, you know just how to—“ you trail off into a high-pitched moan as his tongue flicks over your clit just right. your hips buck against his mouth, legs shaking. "fuck, i've missed the way you eat me.”
michael slides two fingers inside you instantly, curling them perfectly while keeping his mouth locked on your clit.
he sucks hard, eyes lifting to watch your face melt. "mmph... fuck, michael..." you whimper, head dropping back. "god, i missed you..." your eyes roll back as he pumps his fingers and sucks rhythmically, completely devastating you. "please, baby.”
"stop moving, baby," michael murmurs against your pussy, making you shiver. "let me eat this pretty cunt." he sucks hard on your clit again, making your hips jerk.
you try to scramble away, overwhelmed, but michael instantly pins your hips down with gentle hands. "stay put, pretty girl." he throws your legs over his shoulders and absolutely goes ham on your clit, sucking and licking ruthlessly.
"m-michael, fuck..oh my god—" you cry out, nails digging into the sheets. "i missed you, i missed your mouth, please—" you repeat, the words streaming endlessly.
michael grips your cheeks firmly, lifting your hips off the bed completely so your legs rest on his shoulders and your ass is in the air. the wet sounds of his mouth eating you out fill the room loudly as he attacks your clit with aggressive licks and sucks. "fuck... fuck.” you bring your clenched knuckles up to your mouth, trying to sustain yourself.
"michael, i'm gonna cum. please—" you whimper, your whole body shaking. but just as you're about to peak, he slows down.
his tongue teases around your clit instead of sucking. "is this how kurtis made you feel?" he murmurs against your pussy, his voice dropping. "did you let him taste you like this?"
"no, no no— only you, michael," you whine desperately, shaking your head. "literally only you, nobody else. please, baby, i swear..."
you practically sob as he laps at your clit. "it's always been you. only you get me like this. please don't stop—" your legs tremble on his shoulders. "please, michael.”
“that’s my sweet girl, my sweet thing.” michael's eyes meet yours, so full of love and need. "cum for me, baby. let go," he whispers softly, kissing your inner thigh before diving back in.
"cum all over my face, show me how much you missed me." he curls his fingers inside you again, rubbing that spot that makes your vision blur. "i love you so much mama, cum for me.”
your entire body locks up before you explode, screaming his name as you cum violently. your hips grind uncontrollably against his mouth, riding his face through the overwhelming orgasm.
michael holds your thighs firmly, moaning against your pussy, licking you through every single second of your high. "there you go, pretty girl. that's my baby." he murmurs, swallowing your wetness.
michael kisses his way up your trembling stomach, between your breasts, and finally captures your mouth in a deep, slow kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, making you moan softly.
as your bodies press together, you feel his rock-hard erection heavy against your thigh. he groans into your mouth, grinding against you slightly. "feel what you do to me?"
"let me," you mutter between kisses. "i'm going on top." before he can argue, you push him back, his head pressed against the headboard.
you straddle his thighs, hovering over his rock hard dick, making him hiss. "fuck, baby, don't just—" he starts but you're already grinding against him, feeling the thickness.
you grind slowly, feeling every inch of his rigid dick between your folds, not even full insertion yet. you can't stop shaking your head.
"nobody, i mean nobody could ever make me this wet," you breathe desperately, your voice hoarse. "nobody could ever— oh my god—" you bite your lip hard. "only you. always just you, michael."
michael looks up at you with absolute devotion, his hands gently stroking your trembling thighs. his expression is soft but desperate, his cock throbbing against your folds.
"be a good girl and put it in, baby," he breathes, his voice cracking slightly. "i need to feel you. take me inside." he grips your hips tighter. "please, sweetheart.”
you push down slowly, gasping as his thick length fills you completely. "oh fuck— michael—" you whimper, feeling him in your stomach. "you feel so big inside me.” michael groans heavily, hands gripping your hips. "god, baby you're so damn tight—" he thrusts up into you as you start bouncing. "ride me. take what you need."
you place your hands on his chest, using it for leverage as you start bouncing up and down on his cock.
michael's eyes are locked onto yours, filled with love and admiration. "fucking gorgeous.” he breathes out, hands caressing your thighs gently. "you feel so perfect.”
"oh my god, michael— you feel so fucking good.” you whine, bouncing harder, your nails pressing into his chest.
michael rubs his hands warmly up and down your body, sliding them underneath your breasts to hold them with absolute reverence.
"that's my pretty girl..." he murmurs, stroking the soft underside. "you look beautiful on top of me, absolutely beautiful.”
the room fills with the wet sounds of your bodies joining, your moans mixing with his groans. your breasts bounce gently with each downward thrust, michael's hands worshipping them. the lamp casts a soft glow, highlighting the sweat on your skin. "look at you mama, so pretty f‘me.”
you bring your feet up, planting them firmly on either side of his waist, changing the angle so you're sliding down completely, taking every inch. "fuck!” michael groans, his head falling back.
"you just, oh god—" the change makes it tighter, deeper, hitting spots he can't reach. "baby that's so fucking deep—" he groans.
"wait, baby, let me—" michael starts to sit up more but you put a hand on his chest. "no, i got this," you pant, rolling your hips yourself. he falls back against the headboard with a frustrated moan that's somehow still sweet.
"you're killing me here, baby," michael groans softly, his hands gripping your waist gently. "you feel so amazing..." you bite your lip, continuing the slow, deep rolls of your hips. "i love you so much," you whisper, looking into his eyes.
"let me have you, pretty girl..." michael whispers, his strong hands gripping your ass and pulling you forward and down onto his cock with every word.
michael leans forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he brutally yanks you down onto his cock, each thrust hitting deeper than the last.
"let me love you like i need to..." he hits your spot perfectly with each deep thrust, making your eyes widen and mouth open in a silent cry.
the scent of you drives him insane. your hands dig into his back, clawing at the skin as your mouth opens, your whole body shaking. "shit—" you gasp, your voice breaking. "fuck— michael!” you were in disbelief at how good he was giving it to you.
"why are you doing this to me?" you whimper desperately, your voice high and needy as he destroys your spot over and over. "i can't— i'm gonna—" your whole body is shaking and he doesn't let up, just pulls you down harder onto his cock.
"i gotta show my baby how bad i've missed her," michael groans against your neck, fucking up into you relentlessly. “i gotta show her the things i’ve imagined when she was gone.” his breath tickled against your skin.
the pleasure is blinding, your thighs trembling violently around his waist. "michael— wait— baby, stop— i'm gonna squirt," you cry out, your hands clawing at his shoulders. "please— i can't hold it—"
you let out a choked sob as your orgasm hits, your body convulsing around his length. you squirt, the sudden rush of fluid soaking both of you. michael humming against you in approval.
michael quickly wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he gently rocks his hips to prolong your pleasure. "mhm baby, let it out.” he soothes you.
as you come down from your high, michael suddenly flips you onto your back, spreading your legs and settling between them.
he looks down at your flushed, satiated face and soaking wet pussy, and his cock jerks, precome leaking out. "fuck..." he breathes, glaring down at you possessively. he understands that you’re sensitive, giving you a chance to cool down.
michael fists his thick cock, stroking himself slowly right above your soaked pussy. "look at you. my masterpiece.” he groans, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip. "my god, baby..so fucking beautiful."
you bite your lip, watching his hand work his length, your thighs falling open wider. "you look so good jerking off over me, michael..." your hand coming to gently rub his arm.
"fuck..." michael whimpers, his hand moving faster along his shaft as he stares down at you, his chest heaving. "i'm gonna cum, baby... i can't—" but you shake your head, spreading your legs wider and reaching up to grab his wrist. "no.”
"no," you repeat firmly, squeezing his wrist to stop his hand. "i need more of you inside me... i can handle it."
michael's eyes roll back slightly at your words, his cock throbbing painfully. he lets go of himself and grabs your thighs instead, pushing them back further.
michael grabs the back your knees and slowly pushes them back until your ankles are resting beside your head, your back beautifully arched and your pussy completely exposed and vulnerable.
he gazes at you with pure adoration, his voice thick with love and lust. "my beautiful girl. so flexible and perfect for me, just wonderful." he slides inside you in one smooth, deep stroke.
michael pauses, his face scrunched up in pleasure as he tries desperately not to cum. "oh god.” he groans, his hands shaking on the backside if your knees.
you start rubbing your hands soothingly over his chest, abs, and face, trying to relax him. "shh, baby... breathe... you're so deep inside me.”
"you feel so good i'm going crazy," michael whimpers, his voice breaking. "it's okay, baby. just come here.” you coo softly, pulling him down until your bodies are completely pressed together in a tight, intimate bear hug.
with your legs still flexed back beside your head, the position forces him impossibly deep, tearing a loud moan from his throat, his knuckles fisted into the sheets.
michael starts rocking into you slowly, the deep angle making every thrust hit your deepest spot. you both moan loudly into each other's ears, holding onto each other tightly as if your lives depend on it. "i love you. i just love you so much mama.” he whispers between kisses and moans.
suddenly michael starts rocking faster and deeper, slamming his pelvis forward with each thrust.
his grip tightens on you, pulling you into him relentlessly. the frame of the bed begins to rock against the wall, each movement creating a loud, rhythmic thud. "fuck.fuck.fuck.” he mutters, his breath hot against your ear. "too deep, too good.”
you pull away from his neck, running your fingers through his hair and gently tugging until he looks at you.
your eyes lock with his, filled with love and desire. "i want you to fuck me like you've never fucked anyone else... like i'm the only thing that matters in this world.”
michael crashes his lips against yours, kissing you with a desperation that steals your breath. "you are the only thing that matters to me," he pants against your mouth, his voice trembling with emotion.
before you can even respond, he snaps his hips forward, fucking into you relentlessly. the bed screams against the wall, driving you both instantly to the very edge. "i'm gonna cum—" he groans against your lips.
"give it to me baby... i want it all... i love you." you whisper against his lips, squeezing him tight. those words break him completely. michael lets out a choked sob as his cock throbs inside you, releasing hot ropes of cum deep in your belly.
the sensation triggers your own orgasm, clenching around him as you both cry out each other's names. you both ride out the intense waves of your pleasure, whispering sweet nothings and broken "i love you’s” against each other's damp skin.
slowly, the frantic rocking stops and michael collapses onto you, burying his face in your neck. you wrap your arms and legs tightly around him, holding him close as your hearts slow down together.
as you lay there quietly, holding each other in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking, you hear a soft sniffle from michael.
you tilt your head to look at him and realize that he's crying, silent tears streaming down his face into your neck. his body shakes slightly with suppressed sobs.
"michael?" you ask softly, concern immediately flooding through you. you gently cup his face, turning it towards you so you can see his tears.
"baby, what's wrong?" you coo, wiping away his tears with your thumb. he just sobs quietly, burying his face in your palm. "i thought i lost you.”
"shh, michael... look at me," you whisper softly, pressing gentle kisses to his wet cheek. "we worked everything out, baby. i'm right here, and i'm not going anywhere."
you stroke his hair soothingly, holding him impossibly close as his sobs quiet down. "i'm yours again, michael. we're okay now. i promise."
"okay, sweet thing... i just love you so so much.” michael whispers, his tears finally stopping as he starts planting soft, sweet kisses all over your face - your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin. you giggle at the gentle assault, your heart swelling with love for this man. he kisses the corner of your mouth.
michael finally presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, then pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you as he spoons you from behind.
you can feel his heart beating steadily against your back, and you know that everything is going to be okay.
@gogoyubari888 @catash @maceluvslana @cotercat @simpllytea @mack4995 @angelcrescent @idk-her @omgbreeworld @zh4oyj @mjsbabyyy @michaelkisskissgirl @heyitsconysstuff @tiredasfk @peachsterrawr @bubbleguppiewars @apqlehead @szalipcombo @platanita @scccm0182
izzy806
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
