❤︎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ thrill her night. ⸝⸝ thriller era michael jackson x fem reader
│ summary: its halloween night, and your best friend janet has the perfect night planned. that is, unless you get caught sneaking out. unfortunately, fate does not seem to be on your side tonight! │ byi: 18+ (smut - nsfw.) │ a/n: im so sorry this fic came out way later than i wanted it to augh (don't work holiday weekends they're actual hell) │ w/c: 6.0K (sorry got carried away with plot)
You and Janet both had your heels in your hands as you carefully crept down the stairs of the Hayvenhurst mansion. The house was fairly quiet except for the whole movie gathering in the den where everyone was watching scary movies. It was Halloween night, and you two had planned everything perfectly, just like last year.
Just freedom, music, and a wild Beverly Hills party on Janet's itinerary.
You reached the bottom step, exchanging triumphant whoops, when a familiar voice cut through the darkness.
"And just where do you two think you're going?"
Katherine Jackson stood at the hallway entrance in her robe, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Janet froze. You tried to hide your heels behind your back.
"Momma! Hey! We we're just..." Janet quickly shot you a look
"Going Trick or Treating?" you offered weakly, flashing your most innocent smile.
Katherine's eyebrow arched higher. "At this hour? In those costumes?" She shook her head, clearly unimpressed.
Katherine sighed, cuaght in her own trap, she figured the best thing to do was beg. "Momma, please, we'll be fine on our own. You know me."
Katherine gave her a long, knowing look. "That's right. I do know you. Which means you're going with one of your brothers."
Janet sighed dramatically, still pleading, "Mommaaa, pleaseee—"
Katherine shook her head and started to walk toward the den. "Marlon! Come here for a second sweetheart!"
"If they're going to that party I said I'm not taking them!" Marlon called back from the den, sounding thoroughly uninterested.
Katherine sighed again and turned. "Michael!"
Michael sighed, throwing his head back agaisnt the couch cushions, "Why's it always gotta be me..." he muttered, but he still dragged himself up.
He trudged into the hallway with a plain white tee, plaid pajama pants, and socked feet. "Yes?"
"Change your shirt and drive the girls to their party," Katherine said firmly. "They're not going alone."
Michael glanced at you and Janet in your costumes, heels in hand, and let out another soft sigh. "...Ma... I was watching—"
"No arguments," Katherine interrupted gently but decisively. "Go on. And don't wake the whole house up when you return."
Michael gave in with one last resigned look and headed upstairs to change. A few minutes later he came back down in his red and yellow jacket, a cap, and a pair of tinted sunglasses, ready to play reluctant chaperone.
"Oh yeah, real convincing Mike, use the exact same jacket you used for your music video." Janet rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "That's sure to totally not get us caught!"
Michael groaned, yanking the door open, "Can we just go?"
You and Janet excitedly walked down the long driveway to Bill's car, talking distinctively to each other, "Maybe we can just pretend he isn't there." Janet whispered to you.
"You know I can hear you, right?" Michael said dryly from a few steps behind, shoving his hands in his pockets with a sigh.
Janet giggled while you tried to hide your smile. "Come on, he's not that bad, right?" you said, turning around to look at him.
Michael locked eyes with you, and your heart almost came up out of your mouth. He was smiling so genuinely that it made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a second, he looked almost happy to be there.
You never saw Michael as anything more than Janet's older brother. And when he released those two albums, it shifted to your best friend's famous older brother you had absolutely had no chance with. But that didn't mean you weren't like every other girl who had a massive crush on him ever since he became just "Michael Jackson."
But right now, you realized how privileged you were to be as close to him as you were. In his house, going to a party with him, seeing him almost every day, holding conversations, smelling his cologne. You let those thoughts speak your next words for you.
"Yeah… he's not that bad," you added quietly, feeling a flutter in your chest.
Janet watched as you and Michael kept each other's eyes for too long, and interrupted, "Gross!"
You both snapped out of it with a laugh. Michael shook his head, the shy smile still lingering as he opened the car door for you two. "Get in before I change my mind."
"Is this is Janet?" Bill asked, peeking in through the rearview mirror. He had pulled in just by the corner of the driveway, where dozens of other cars piled together. The music coming from inside the house was loud enough to feel the bass in your chest even from the street.
Janet sat up and looked out the window, "Yup! This is it!" She quickly unbuckled her seat belt and tugged on your hand, "Come on girl, we're missing it!"
Michael shook his head, fixing his cap further down to cover his eyes the best he could, "This is so dumb... I'm gonna get recognized."
You giggled, undoing your belt and stepping out of the car with Janet and Michael, "You'll be fine, just... don't do the karaoke or they'll definitely suspect something."
Michael let out a soft laugh despite himself, adjusting the collar of his jacket. "No promises. Let's just get this over with."
Inside the Beverly Hills mansion, the party was in full swing. You and Janet immediately hit the dance floor, laughing and spinning under the flashing lights. Michael hovered near the wall, trying his best to blend in.
If there was one thing about Michael, he was an observer. He watched quietly from the sidelines as you and Janet danced, then his gaze flicked over to the various couples eating each other's faces, the very obvious illegal drug transaction happening next to him. He often wondered why Janet opted to these shit holes when he could get you and her both to way better parties than whatever this was.
He was mid sipping on whatever concoction they were serving in the punch bowl, when he saw you sipping on the exact same thing. The same exact thing that definitely had alcohol in it.
He swiftly pushed through the crowd of bodies all pressed up against each other, mumbling excuse me's and sorries while keeping his head down and voice low, until he was right behind you. You were just nursing on the red plastic cup when someone plucked the drink right out of your hand.
"Hey— What do you think—" You turned around quickly, ready to snap, but the words died in your throat when you saw Michael standing there, cup in hand, looking equal parts concerned and disappointed.
"What do you think you're doing,” he fired back softly, voice low enough for only you to hear over the music. "You're only nineteen. You shouldn't be drinking this."
The alcohol already warming your veins made you pout playfully. "It's just one, Mike. Come on… Like you didn't drink even younger than me." You swayed side to side with your head tucked in.
Michael's expression softened, but he didn’t hand the cup back. Instead, he set it down on a nearby table, his voice still gentle but firm. "That's... That's not the point. C'mon, let's get you some water."
He slid one arm behind you, just barely touching behind your back, guiding you towards the kitchen. You started going reluctantly, turning to look a t him as you walked. "You know, when Katherine asked you to chaperone us, I didn't think you would take it literal."
He gave a small laugh, glancing down at you. "Somebody's gotta keep you out of trouble. Janet's a bad influence, and you…" He paused, voice dropping softer, "well, you're just you."
The kitchen was less crowded, just a few people refilling drinks. Michael found a bottle of water and cracked it open for you, watching carefully as you took a sip. You leaned against the counter, eyes sparkling up at him, the alcohol making you bolder than usual.
"You're cute when you're all protective, you know that?" you teased, reaching out to lightly tug the zipper of his jacket.
His ears flushed pink under the cap. "Stop that," he muttered, but he didn’t move away.
Before he could say anything else, a tall brute in a vampire cape came slugging through the kitchen, clearly drunk and zeroed in on you. He shoulder-checked Michael as he leaned against the counter beside you.
"Ay, sweetheart, why you wasting time with this stiff? Let me show you a real good time." His eyes raked over you.
You smiled shyly, your arms instinctively coming up to wrap around yourself out of uncomfortableness. The guy started blabbing on about his sports cars, how his dad owned multiple dealerships, and how he could "show you a real ride." His breath reeked of alcohol as he leaned in way too close, completely ignoring Michael's presence.
Michael stood there stiff, fists clenched at his sides. He felt the need to intervene. But he also felt that it wasn't his place to do so. You were a grown woman. Still, when the guy leaned in even closer, his hand reaching out like he was about to touch you. Those gross hands who've probably so far down his pants? Heck no. So, by the might in everything in him, he spoke up.
"Hey man, I don't think she's interested." he cut in, voice ever so quiet, almost hesitant. Michael was never one for confrontation, but the sight of that guy making you visibly uncomfortable did a number on him.
The guy laughed, looking Michael up and down. "Buzz off, man. Who the hell are you, her dad? She can speak for herself."
You chimed in, ready to back Michael's claim, "M'sorry but I'm really not interested." You shook your head, uncrossing your arms to back away from him.
Michael swallowed hard, ears burning, but he didn't back off. "She already said she's not interested… so please just leave her alone."
You could see how tense he was—fists still clenched, shoulders tight, like he was ready to run out the door if the chance was given—but he was doing it anyway. For you.
The guy finally acknowledged Michael, for all the wrong reasons. He stood up tall, walking right up to him pressing his broad chest right against Michael. "Yeah? And what if I don't?"
Now, Michael wasn't exactly six feet tall and two hundred and thirty pounds of pure muscle, but if it's one thing he learned from growing up with four older brothers, he knew how to fight and defend himself.
Michael stayed planted, even as the much bigger guy pressed up against him. He took in a deep breath, and clenched his fist, ready to throw the first swing. Michael was all above confrontation, and definitely, was not a fighter, so when a girl in a flashy pink costume got in between the two of them and forced herself in Michael's line of sight, he nearly sighed a breath of relief.
"Are you—Oh—Oh my gosh, you're Michael Jackson!" She shrieked, pulling out her
The kitchen erupted.
"Michael Jackson?"
"Where?"
"Michael Jackson!"
"It's really him!"
"No way, let's go get an autograph!"
The vampire guy's aggressive stance collapsed instantly. His broad chest pulled back, eyes wide with shock as the crowd surged forward. He finally spoke, almost breaking down. "Michael Jackon... Dude, I'm like your biggest fan!"
Before you could process anything, Michael got sucked into a crowd of people, pushing and shoving to get past you to get to the superstar. The energy in the kitchen had completely flipped from tense standoff to chaotic fan frenzy in seconds.
Michael's eyes widened in panic. He tried to stay calm, even telling other people to mind each other, like trying direct traffic at a broken intersection.
You sunk back further into the crowd, looking for Janet. You tried the empty spots of the house that used to be alive with people bumping to music, when someone caught your wrist from behind.
You whipped around quickly, Janet. "Girl, what on earth is going on in the kitchen?" she asked, eyes wide with confusion and amusement.
You grabbed her hand, breathless. "Some idiot tried to fight Michael, then his cover got blown! The well you know the rest."
Janet's eyes lit up. "Oh my God, come on!"
The both of you bee lined to the door to the mansion, waving Bill down the block. He pulled up quickly, sensing the urgency, "Michael?" Michael, Janet, and you practically dove into the car. "He's still in there! They found him out!"
Bill didn’t need more explanation. He sighed, parking the car, and almost ripped the car door off its hinges before furiously marching into the storm, "I knew this was a bad idea."
A few tense minutes later, Bill re-emerged with a very frazzled Michael in tow. Michael's cap was crooked, his jacket rumpled, and his face was flushed from the attention. Behind them both, the crowd followed like zombies in an apocalypse.
Michael and Bill rushed to the car, Michael sliding into the car between you and Janet, breathing hard.
"Go, Bill. Please," Michael said quietly.
Bill didn't hesitate. He pulled away quickly, leaving the chaos behind.
"What in the world did you girls do?" Bill peeked back into the rearview mirror, all while keeping his eyes on the road.
Janet burst out laughing. "We didn't do anything! Some drunk guy tried to hit on her, Michael stepped in, then someone recognized him and the whole place went crazy!"
You leaned forward, still buzzing from the alcohol and adrenaline. "It was wild, Bill. Michael totally looked like he was about to throw a punch."
Michael sank lower in his seat, ears burning red. "Can we not talk about that part?" he mumbled, but there was a tiny smile tugging at his lips.
Bill just shook his head, chuckling. "I knew this was a bad idea from the start. You two especially are trouble."
The rest of the ride back to Hayvenhurst was filled with you and Janet happily babbling about how fun and chaotic the night had been, with Michael silently sulking in the middle seat.
Janet kicked off her heels by her bedroom door, "Oh my gosh did you see that girl totally flashing Michael?"
You burst out laughing, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you peeled off your own shoes. "I thought he was gonna melt into the floor! Poor baby was so red."
Michael, who had been trailing behind you both with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, let out a mortified groan. "You guys are sick. Sick!" His room was just across from Janet's.
Janet grinned like the cat who got the cream, blowing Michael a kiss before disappearing into her room, "Night Mikey!~"
The door clicked shut, leaving the hallway quiet except for the faint creak of the old mansion settling. Michael nodded to you, and mouthed goodnight, opening the door to his room and slipping inside quietly.
Outside, you stood there for a second, heart racing. Your cheeks still carried a warm blood, however, this time you weren't sure if it was the alcohol doing its thing.
It's no secret to anyone Michael was a cute young guy, not to mention hilarious, talented, gentlemanly, generous, kind, and a whole bunch of other things your buzzed mind didn't want to go digging for. He was, is, the perfect boyfriend. The perfect lover. And, probably, the best love maker.
You shook your head, embarrassed. The cocktail punch was still working its magic, making your thoughts hazy and your body warm. You shook your head, trying to push down the butterflies.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward and gently knocked on Michael's door. Your thoughts raced. Crap.
The door opened almost immediately, and Michael stood there in just his t-shirt and pajama pants, looking a bit surprised. "Hey… everything alright?" he whispered, voice low so he wouldn't wake the house.
"I... I just wanted to say thank you again... for sticking up for me at the party." You rubbed your socked feet together and twiddled your fingers. "That was really sweet of you."
Michael gave you that crinkly-eyed smile, leaning against the doorframe. "You don't have to thank me. I wasn't gonna let that guy bother you." He paused, noticing the way you were lingering, but decided not to make it awkward.
You looked up at him through your lashes, the hallway light casting a soft glow on his face. Your voice came out quieter. "...I think you're like—really, really cute, Mike."
Michael's eyes found yours for a second, and he let his head fall to hide the smile he had going on. He shifted his weight, one hand still on the doorframe like he needed the support. "…Thank you. That's… that's real sweet of you to say."
You stepped a little closer, the warmth in your chest spreading lower. The alcohol made everything feel softer around the edges. You reached out and lightly touched the front of his t-shirt, fingers lightly tracing the fabric. "I really mean it. Tonight… the way you stood up for me… it was hot. You're always so sweet, Mike. I've been thinking about it the whole ride back. About... you."
He swallowed hard, those big eyes flicking between your face and your hand on his chest. "You're tipsy..." he murmured.
You furrowed your brows, acting offended, "I am not!"
Michael's lips twitched like he was fighting a smile, but his eyes stayed soft. "Okay… maybe a little," he whispered. He glanced down the hallway like he expected someone to appear any second, then back to you. His hand came up, hesitant, and gently grabbed the top of your head to shake it a little. "You should probably get some sleep. We can… talk tomorrow if you want."
But you didn’t move. You stepped fully into his space, pressing your palm flat against his chest where you could feel his heart hammering.
"I don't want to talk tomorrow," you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes. "I want… to thank you properly. Right now." Your fingers curled into his shirt.
Michael swallowed hard, his hands moving to hover at his sides. He thought hard. He never really had a reason to see you more than Janet's friend. And while yes, you threw your flirty and perverted jokes towards him, you did it to everyone. Including his brothers. Especially if you had been drinking. Now, Michael was never one to take advantage of a woman, especially if she had a drink or two.
His voice was gentle, almost like a plea when he spoke, "I don't… I don't want to take advantage."
"I know what I’m doing, Mike,” you cut in, pulling him just a little closer to your face by his collar, "Come on... can I... thrill your night?" You probably looked so dumb, face flushed with alcohol and nerves, but the way Michael's eyes pleaded with yours told you he didn't think so at all.
He let out a shaky breath, his hand finally coming up to cover yours on his chest. He smirked, looking at you with those earnest, handsome doe eyes. "I'm pretty sure the saying goes—'thrill her night.'"
You rolled your eyes playfully, "Be quiet, dummy." You leaned in and mashed your lips onto his; he kissed you back immediately. One of his hands came behind your back, and the other cupped the back of your head gently, pulling you into him. The kiss deepened fast, and you felt the flutter in your chest spread lower, heat pooling between your thighs. Michael kissed you like he was starving for it, with a growing hunger that made your head spin, and your knees weak enough to the point you were almost sinking to your knees while Michael held you upright.
You tugged at his t-shirt impatiently. He broke the kiss, breathlessly, "...Wow."
You nodded in agreement, and pushed him further into his room, closing the door behind you. The lock turned under your fingers. The rest of the house was quiet, but your heart was pounding loud enough to fill the space.
Michael's back hit the edge of his bed as you kissed him again. His hands came to explore your body with the intentions of photo capturing every detail, so it stayed sharp in his mind. When you tugged insistently at his t-shirt, he broke the kiss just long enough to help you pull it off.
You immediately reattached to his lips like a leech, letting your cool hands explore his warm toned stomach, which flinched at the touch, and his whines that spilled into your connected mouths.
Michael shivered under your fingertips, a soft, breathy sound escaping him as your hands traveled lower. You left his lips again, and he stayed propped up on his elbows watching you take off your costume sweater. All you had left on were your knee-high socks and skirt.
His eyes darkened, that hunger deepening as he drank you in. "You look… unreal," he whispered. He bit his lip as he watched you peel off only your panties, leaving the skirt on for more tease.
Michael's breath hitched in his throat. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the short skirt higher until it bunched around your waist, exposing you completely to him. His long slender fingers felt like heaven on your aching skin.
You let your legs spread slowly, letting him see what now belonged to him. "Oh… baby," he whispered, voice dripping with awe and desire. He tenderly stroked your inner thigh up and down, suppressing the urge to take you right then and there.
Michael got on top of you this time, placing little pepper kisses all over your face, and jaw, then your neck. You giggled, threading your fingers through his curls. He pulled back from you, looking down at the space between your legs, "Can... Can I try something?"
You nodded eagerly, still buzzing from the excitement and the heat between you. "Anything, Mike."
He smiled, more so to himself, and kissed down your body slowly—soft, open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your stomach, your hips. When he reached your spread thighs, he settled between them steadily.
Michael looked up at you with those big, earnest doe eyes one more time, then leaned in.
He hesitantly let his tongue drag slowly from your entrance all the way up to your little nub in one long, wet stripe. He was hooked. He latched onto you with his warm wet mouth, and he moaned deeply against you, the wonderful vibration sending sparks through your core. "You taste so sweet,” he whispered. Then he really went for it.
He ate you out with focused and hungry devotion. His lips sealed around your swollen bundle of nerves, sucking gently, then flicking it teasingly with the tip of his tongue. He wrapped his hands around your thighs, ensuring they wouldn't close on him, and so that he had something to grab onto.
The heavenly sounds you sang went straight to the bulge straining in his soft pajama pants. He was helplessly humping the mattress like a dog in rut, desperate for any friction while he devoured you. You scent was intoxicating, like the pheromones you were releasing into the room controlled him. Michael's tongue never stopped—lapping, sucking, flicking your nub with wet, obscene sounds that filled the room.
"Ohhh... Mike!" Your hands flew to the back of his head, pushing him further into you, all while you rocked your hips against him. He groaned in bliss, his thoughts truly going blank, all focused on the absolute intensity and heat of the moment. He was ravenous.
Your thighs trembled around his head. "Mike, right there—don't stop—I'm—" Your back arched violently off the bed, fingers tightening painfully in his curls as you came hard, gushing on his tongue and fingers. Michael kept licking and sucking you through every it all, lapping up everything like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted, only gentling when you started to squirm from overstimulation.
He finally pulled back, face shiny with your juices, lips swollen, breathing ragged. Sitting back on his knees, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand with a smile. "Would you believe me if I said that was the first time I did that?"
You let out a breathless laugh, still flushed. "If that truly was your first time, then you're a natural." He looked so handsome, a fresh sheen of sweat covering his chest and face. You just wanted to eat him up. Your eyes darkened as your beckoned him over, "Mike, come here."
He obeyed with no question, crawling back up your body, and capturing you in a kiss to taste your own self on his tongue. Michael's tongue tangled with yours, sharing your flavor as his hard self pressed hot and heavy against your inner thigh. You reached down between you, slipping your hand into his pj pants, wrapping your fingers around his length. He was warm, hard, and so soft. You slowly stroked once upwards from base to tip. He whimpered into your mouth, hips bucking into your hand.
"Baby… please," he whispered, desperate.
You bit your lip, smiling sweetly, "Please what?" You teased, squeezing the tip of him softly.
He groaned, head falling to the crook of your neck, hands bracing on either side of your head while he struggled to remain whatever sanity he had left. "You know what."
"Say it, Mike,' you whispered. The way he was shaking above you—equal parts desperate and still trying his best to remain respectful—made your heart swell with something softer. "Tell me what you want."
He lifted his head just enough to look at you. Those big eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed dark. "I… I want you," he breathed, the words barely audible. "...Want to be inside you. Please, pretty baby… let me make you feel good."
You nodded, releasing him from your heavenly torture, "Okay angel."
He backed up from you, sitting on his knees again to pull his pjs pants down enough to free himself. You watched him do it, eyes darkening with hunger as he carefully grabbed himself with such gentle reverence. He was so pretty—curls sticking to the sweat on his forehead, chest rising and falling deeply, and the way he was trying to avoid eye contact while you were totally checking him out.
"Stop looking at me like that," he whispered, failing to hide the little smile spreading across the face.
"Like what?" you teased again, propping yourself on your elbows to get a better view of him, "It's not my fault you're so pretty."
Michael's shook his head lightly, but that shy smile grew as he crawled back over you. "Shut up."
He hovered there for a second, his cock lightly kissing your inner thigh for a second, before lining himself up.
"M'gonna put it inside, 'kay?" he whispered, looking at you. But at this point, he might just be seeing it out loud to remind himself what was happening.
You nodded eagerly, whispering breathlessly, "Okay." Now it felt real. You were about to make love with musical sensation Michael Jackson. What would the tabloids say?
With one hand braced beside your head and the other gently holding your hip, he pushed forward.
Your brows furrowed when he tried to push forward, the pressure building at your lips bordering on slightly painful. You drew in a breath, trying to tough it out, watching as he struggled to push inside.
Michael finally looked down where you two were touching, confused. "...It's not—I'm... It won't—" his cheeks burned as he tried again—gentle but unsuccessful. "I don't know why it's not… I'm trying—"
He eventually looked up at you, pleading, "....Help me?"
You nodded, fingers wrapping around his length, guiding the tip back to your entrance. "Try again," you whispered. "Slow."
Michael pushed forward once more, this time with your help. "Okay..." The head finally caught and slid inside you with ease, stretching you open to accommodate the size.
He gasped at the warm and wet tight heat enveloped him, "Oh… baby," he breathed, voice trembling. "Y—You feel—"
You finally released the breath you didn't even know you were holding, "Fuck—Michael..."
The stretch burned so good as he sank deeper, inch by inch, until his hips were finally flush against yours. Michael's eyes squeezed shut when he finally bottomed out, a stifled groan slipping out of him. His arms shook where they braced on either side of your head, little did you know he was actively fighting himself to not finish right inside you already.
A tiny bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he held perfectly still. Concern flooded your senses, and you turned your face to look at him, "You okay?"
Michael nodded quickly, eyes still squeezed shut. "Y-yeah… just— you feel too good," he whimpered. He pulled back from you to look where the two of you were perfectly connected, which was a huge mistake on his behalf.
The sight of himself buried deep inside your tight, glistening sex made his stomach flutter uncontrollably, and the little coil in his stomach almost sprung free. The size comparison to your little hole attempting to sheath him made his thoughts run wild. His voice cracked, "...Oh..."
Michael shook his head, trying to think of the saddest things possible. He hooked your legs over his shoulders earning a gasp from you from the sudden movement. "Baby I... I need to move, or I don't think I'm going to last like this..."
He trapped his lower lip between his teeth when he started moving, slow rolls of his hips, sliding easily inside you. His tip was perfectly kissing that sweet spongey spot inside you, the one that made your toes curl behind his ears.
You shook your head slowly back and forth, so lost in the sensation you could hardly speak. "Ohhh... Michael!" You slid your hand between the both of you to firmly press circles on your little bundle of nerves, the dual sensation burning a blissful hole right in the middle of your stomach.
Michael's lips parted slightly as he watched you, the way your breasts bounced upwards so adorably, the way your juices covered his length and his pubic area like some dirty claim to him. He reveled in the way you made those cute noises that made him go crazy for more.
Feeling a sudden boost of confidence, he leaned forward, bracing his hands at the sides of your waist, and latched onto one of your breasts with his mouth.
His warm, wet tongue swirled around your little nub before he sucked it gently into his mouth. You cried out, hands flying upwards to clutch his curls, "Mike— oh God, yes—!" you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair and holding him there. The gentle pull on his hair made him moan helplessly against you, those sweet vibrations doing terrible things to you.
Michael pulled back just enough to look at you, lips shiny, "Baby... My family— They're gonna hear you..." He teased with a small smile, placing his hand over your mouth gently.
You rolled your eyes playfully and pushed his hand away, "But you make me feel so good pretty baby..."
Michael blushed, nuzzling his face into your neck where he began to place open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there. He was so close, the way you were squeezing him and sucking him in each time he drove backwards activated the muscles down there that it was soon time to release.
Michael breathed heavily into your neck, "You feel... like heaven—"
His thrusts grew erratic, short and desperate as he chased his release. He pulled back to look between the both of you, before looking into your eyes again, "Where... Where do you want me?"
"Inside," you gasped immediately, your legs locked around his neck, pulling him in deep.
Michael's eyes fluttered shut at your words, a broken whimper escaping him, "But—"
You cut him off, cupping his face gently, "I'm on the pill. S'fine."
He nodded weakly, enveloping you in a bear hug essentially folding you in half. "I'm— Gonna come..." he whined against your neck, voice cracking.
"Come on, angel," you gasped, clenching around him. "Fill me up— please—"
It was all so much for him. Your tight heat begged for him to spill inside, and how much of a gentleman would he be if he denied her lady such a thing? Michael buried himself to the hilt, his whole body shuddering as he came hard. Thick ropes expelled from him as they painted your insides a creamy white. With each pulse he whimpered into your neck where your hair covered him like a veil.
The feeling of him letting loose inside you made that coil inside you burn hot and snap beautifully. Your orgasm crashed over you in intense waves, walls fluttering and milking him for everything he had. Your legs trembled over his shoulders, a muffled cry escaping you as buried your face in his neck.
When the euphoric moment finally ebbed, he carefully lowered your legs, kissing your calves on the way down. He pulled out with a soft hiss, the view of his length and your heat coated in both your slick and his spend almost made him ready for round two. Instead, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and collapsed beside you. Two seconds in he remembered his manners and jumped up, sliding to the bathroom to retrieve a damp cloth to clean you.
He was so gentle, almost reverent, as he wiped you clean, murmuring soft apologies when you twitched. "There." He folded the cloth neatly, patting your hip gently, "All clean." He leaned down and kiss your thigh where there was already a forming bruise where he gripped you too hard. "Sorry 'bout that..."
You smiled sleepily, twirling a loose strand of your hair. "Worth it."
Michael smiled, shaking his head, crawling back on to the bed, pulling you into his arms and tucking you against his chest under the covers. You nuzzled your face comfortably into his neck, inhaling the scent of him. His heavenly cologne and the light musk and sweat from earlier activities.
"...Mmm, you smell really good angel face."
Michael let out a soft, groan slash whine. "Stop it, you know what you're doing." he whispered, pressing a small kiss to your hair.
That night you fell comfortably asleep in his arms, safe from the quarrels of whatever previous troubles that had been building up. Because Michael really had a way of licking the slate clean.
The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the curtains of the Hayvenhurst kitchen. Marlon and Janet were up early, perched at the large kitchen island, picking at plates of eggs and toast while chatting in low voices.
Michael padded downstairs in his pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, hair still a wild mess from sleep, eyes half-lidded. He made a beeline for the freezer, still remaining polite, "Morning." He pulled out a tub of his favorite ice cream inspecting the box carefully.
Janet glanced up, a mischievous grin spreading across her face the second she saw him. She took a slow sip of her juice, eyes sparkling with knowing delight.
"So, Michael... Someone had a thrilling night," she said sweetly, giving the biggest smile her face would allow.
Michael froze, ice cream in his hand, back still facing his siblings. His entire face burned in mere seconds.
Janet giggled, nudging her brother with her elbow, "Right, Marlon, you heard it?"
Marlon stopped with his fork halfway in his mouth, looking between Janet and Michael. Utterly confused, he spoke, "Huh?"
Michael snatched the entire tub, clutched it to his chest like a lifeline, and bolted for the stairs without another word—nearly tripping over his own socked feet in his haste. The sound of his door slamming upstairs sealed the deal.
Marlon blinked slowly, fork settling on the plate. "...What the hell was that about?"
Janet just burst out laughing, covering her mouth as she shook her head. "Oh, nothing. Eat your eggs, Marlon."
