the fans are begging for post-tour manager michael & reader getting hella close & rlly falling in loveeeee
ꫂ❁ writes: i have decided to bestow my blessing and allow y’all to have propah sex. may the bedding ceremony commence. not splitting this, so beware the word count. pls remember i’m an ao3 veteran.
tw: they finally have seggs! love confessions, mentions of anxiety and body dysmorphia, bath sex, sexual tension, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, p in v sex, side-by-side sex, slow sex, boobs! michael is in love love
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
a place of refuge, somewhere he often found himself escaping to the scandinavian mountains, reconnecting with god’s greatest creations, cool weather, and air that almost seemed too pure to breathe. the desire to escape everything was here, the more northern prairies, near the hiking trails and views of the snowcapped mountain tops.
the completion of your tour was beyond successful. nearly every show was sold out, and the reports of your popularity rising pleased him immensely. you had worked very hard to get to your position, and he ignored the reports and rumors that your team (specifically him) had used his name to get you where you were now. when he plucked people’s magazine out of your hands to tear it apart, you laughed a little and suggested starting a bonfire over it.
he never really cared for bonfires, but the smell of all those crappy glossy papers burning enticed him. he has fun spraying liquid kerosene onto the flames, laughing when you squeal with the fire bursting.
“you should celebrate,” he says to you, with no warning, after realizing he’s staring too long. you grab another torn paper from the pile, where it pastes a comparison of two celebrities wearing the same outfit. he tosses a hand at you.
you give him a side look, tossing the paper into the hearth. “isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
he scoffs. “this ain’t no celebration. i mean properly.”
“you mean like a vacation?” your eyes brightened in the light of the flames. he thinks it’s chaotic, at best.
michael lifts his brows, closing his eyes and shrugging with pursed lips. he crosses his arms across his chest when he hears you clap and squeal again. he cracks his eyes open to peek at you from behind his bangs. your mouth is stretched into a wide smile, making your ears rise a little.
“you want that, girl?” his teeth catch his lower lip when you skip towards him.
“michael, you better not play,” you deadpan to him, smiling wryly. he laughs and opens his arms to hold your shoulders. his thumbs round smooth circles over your skin.
“of course, of course,” he coos. he’s already thinking of places he could book for you to unwind.
you interrupt his thought train when you lift a finger to tap his chest, poking at his sternum. “you’re coming with me, right?”
his thumbs freeze in place, and he blinks at you. your face becomes a little stern, and it’s almost comical how your mood shifts from excited child to strict mother.
say something, his mind alerts him.
“you…you want me to come?” it’s a little hard to swallow. all that’s heard is the crackle of the fire behind you, and the orange hues illuminate the side of your face and eyes. you’re staring at him intently, and he’s compelled to look anywhere but your eyes.
yes, you have both had your little escapades, and it’s very fun, but you have not talked about pursuing any relationship further than friendship, much less manager and client. all he knows is that you like him and he loves you. that difference feels like an ocean’s distance to him, and it gnaws at his mind.
he’s thinking of what a vacation with you would mean, for your career, and also for him. it’s so intimate, just you and him. no one else. no press, no crew, no dancers, no assistant, no one. he’s a little dizzy at the thought, and his heart beats faster against his chest.
“michael, of course i want you to come,” your voice is smooth and intentional. his teeth sink into his lips, sucking it into his mouth. “i’m a little confused about how that’s even a question.”
michael lets his hands slip from your shoulders and turns from you. he walks around the little fire, which is slowly dying. you stay in your spot, head following his movements. he picks up the kerosene bottle with a sigh, stopping to stare into the flames. he squeezes around the bottle, letting the flames jump up and warm the front of his body. the heat is searing his face, but that’s not what he’s sweating from.
he finally looks up at you from across the flames. “it’s just not expected of us. i…i dunno.”
you crane your neck at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. “what’s not expected of us?”
he waves his hand at the flames, accidentally spilling a few drops into the hearth.
“this. what we’re doing,” he sniffles a little, rubbing at his nose with a knuckle as the heat starts to make him itch.
you start to move to where he is, and he’s watching you carefully. you stalk him from behind the flames, like a panther. there’s a strange look in your eyes that he can’t seem to read. “i thought we spoke about this. and what is it we’re doing?”
michael isn’t sure why it’s so hard for him to say it. maybe because explicitly stating it will solidify his feelings, and he’s not ready for rejection or doubt. “you know. don’t be silly.”
you’re getting closer. “maybe i am.”
“silly,” you say with a smile. it makes him shiver despite the heat.
“fox,” his voice is no higher than a whisper, and he’s trying not to squeeze the bottle in his hands. the two of you could be labeled a fire hazard. “this ain’t easy for me.”
he’s startled when you suddenly switch directions, retracing your steps to move towards him in a counterclockwise trail. you flash him a knowing grin over your shoulder, and all he can do is stare after your body. his tongue is clamped against his teeth, and he’s trying not to bite down.
“i know,” your voice is soft, but very far away.
you inspect your nailbed as you round the bonfire to pluck another piece of pasted media to toss into the fire. you both watch the paper curl and brown against the flames, words melting away. he meets your eyes across the fire, and he sees your soul in them.
two more seconds, and that’s all it will take for him to leap across the hearth to get to you.
“tell you what,” you suddenly start, snapping him out of his thoughts. “come with me. let’s hide away for a little, and we’ll figure this out.”
he blinks slowly. “this?”
“us,” you confirm, waving a pointing finger between you and him.
his eyes drop to watch the deep hearth, unable to look at you. “what if i’m not ready?”
you hum questioningly, and he hears your footsteps starting toward him again. “for what?”
michael lets out a shaky breath, hoping to have half a spine in him by the time you reach him. he finally swallows, and it feels like a pebble in his throat. “i don’t wanna get hurt.”
you finally stop in front of him. he smells your scent over the smokeless fire, and his gaze traces your feet, slowly traveling up your body before locking in with your eyes. you’re peering at him through his shades, and he feels naked. there’s a gentle glaze to your irises, and though he’s trembling, he feels safe in them. you’re calm as your hand reaches to pry the bottle from his hand, its grip like a vice as he relents it to you.
you move slowly, and it drives michael mad as you shift your body to thrust your hand out. the flames behind you burst again.
you turn back to him with a cheeky grin. “i just wanted to try that,” you admit.
he’s still frozen as his mind screams at him to react. you’re watching him with lidded eyes, and he wants to say something, move, hold you, run away. it’s overwhelming, and the pulse in his neck pumps hard. he’s afraid you will notice.
instead, you toss the bottle aside and lace your fingers through his. his hands are clammy against your warm ones. you look up into his eyes and gaze into them. he’s drowning in your color, light bouncing off your form as the flames dance behind you.
“if you trust me, as i did you,” your voice smoothly pulls him out of his anxieties. “we’ll do this together. and be there for one another at the end of it all. deal?”
michael’s eyes close when your clean hand comes up to brush a few hair strands from his sticky forehead. he feels himself nod. his long fingers are gripping you tight, and he wonders if he’s hurting you. you don’t make a mention of it, just rub your thumb on the crook of his hand.
that’s how he found himself in sweden with you.
the journey to the scandinavian mountains was rather quiet between you both, though not uncomfortable. michael managed to wrap up a few important errands on his list before traveling, and you completed one of your interviews on the late night show. everything else was quiet, so many unspoken words in the air. he noticed you jotting in your journal during the flight, peeking at him now and then to give him a sweet smile.
he thinks he returns one, but is worried it comes out like a grimace.
michael knew there was much to unload once you both had settled into the cabin. the security surrounding you was minimal, with a team of three men total, and they stayed in adjoining cabins while you and michael agreed to share one together. it was big enough for a whole family, two floors, an extended patio, and giant skylights to invite the sun’s eventual warmth.
it’s private, so intimate, michael’s mind is racing. it almost feels too domestic between you and him as he gazes around the house, the bodyguards occasionally sweeping by him to settle your bags into the rooms. his eyes land on you, twirling in the kitchen and propping your body over the counter. your eyes are wide.
“it’s huuuuge!” you cheer as your overcoat swirls under your feet. he laughs a little raspily.
“yeah, it’s beautiful.” his boots click throughout the cabin as his head tilts up to look at the ceiling. he points up. “look at that!”
your eyes lift to see where he’s pointing, spotting the stained glass in the center of the kitchen ceiling. you gasped. “whoa!”
michael licks his lips and sucks the lower one beneath his teeth as he watches your eyes brighten with excitement. you’re just so wonderful, he deems himself lucky enough to have you in his life. you brought joy where there was pain, love where there was hate, and desire where it had once fallen faded. he had never felt more alive, young, and fresh than with you.
you turn to glance at him with squinting eyes, and you giggle. his eyes water a little when you reach out to hold him. “i’m so happy you’re here.”
he’s grateful for the shades masking his eyes. “thank you for letting me be here.”
you playfully push at his shoulders, chuckling as you walk away, your overcoat swaying with your hips. “stop that nonsense.”
but he means it. there are so many boundaries being crossed, and he’s very blessed to have you open up to him. an older man. a bigger name. a walking controversy in the eyes of the media.
he shakes those labels out of his head. that’s not him. he refuses to let the negativity get to him now, after so many years. god’s strongest soldier is yet another test.
after settling in with a light dinner, you offer to clean the dishes as michael briefs the head of the security team on a small schedule and closes the door, locking it soundly. he lets his hand rest there, trying to steady his breathing.
this is happening, he thinks. you’re here, and it’s only the two of you out here.
he jolts a little when he feels your arms slither around his midsection, and he feels your body shake with light laughter when he exhales out a breath. “you scared me, fox.”
you press a cheek between the space of his shoulder blades. “sorry,” you mumble half-heartedly. he lets his hand fall from the door to cup your linked hands, his fingers dancing over your skin, and you hum against his back.
michael turns a little. “you still hungry?”
he feels your head shake ‘no’. he looks up at the mahogany door, praying for answers. he’s not sure what to do next.
your body pulls back, and you gently twirl him around to face you. he lets you lead him from the door towards the staircase, the ones that lead towards the bedrooms. the walls of the cabin seem to cave in around the two of you as you both pad up the stairs, carefully, slowly. his eyes are trained on your back as you tug him along, climbing higher to the top of the winding stairs.
when you both reach the top, he’s dizzy. you poke your head into his room, the master bedroom, and he notices there’s a soft glow in the room. he catches your sly glance over your shoulder as you check his expression, and your smile softens at his confused face.
you pull his frame through the doorpost. the entire room is bordered with soft candles, dancing a little as you pass them, creating an ambient vibe in the room. the door to the bathroom is wide open, and two towels lie on the bedsheets.
his heart squeezes a little. you’re setting him up for a romantic night. his head begins to swim.
you finally release him and fold your shoulders back to shrug off your overcoat. you turn back to him, eyeing him. “you wanna take that off?”
his palms pat against his chest as he fumbles for the buttons of his coat. he doesn’t miss the chortle you try to stifle as you shift away, tossing your overcoat over the back of a nearby chair and holding the spine to wiggle your boots off. he tries to mimic you, slipping the buttons through the holes and undoing his belt to finally slip the coat off and fold it neatly over the chair.
the sound shuffle of you moving about the dim room fades away as he stares at your coats. his over yours. maybe his mind is too clouded with need, because it seems like this, too, is so intimate.
your hands spider over his biceps from behind, but he hears you come up to him this time. you rub there, warming his skin under the shirt. “watcha thinking about?”
he breaks away from the coats over the chair and turns to meet you. “nothin’,” he dismisses.
you give him a raised brow, and he glances away shyly. there’s a steady heat creeping up the back of his neck, and his lashes feel heavier on his eyelids. he’s not felt so shy and intimidated by romantic acts since he was in his twenties, and the thought makes his head reel. you really make him feel so young and virginal, though the acts you’ve danced together so far were anything but.
he supposes things are different when your hearts are involved, not just your bodies.
“i was thinking,” your eyes lower to his chest, your hands slithering from his arms to his chest, smoothing out the shirt there. “it’s been a long flight, and we’re a little grimy. wanna wash up?”
he nods dumbly, hands coming up to hold your wrists, rubbing your skin. “yes. good…good idea.”
the corner of your mouth twitches as you look up at him through your lashes. “together?”
his breath hitches. “you and me?”
“me and you, baby,” you confirm. your hands are now curled to slide the button of his dress shirt open, popping it smoothly. one by one. he shivers a little, and you rub his pecks soothingly.
“i’ll meet you in there, big guy,” you nod your head towards the open bathroom door and plant a kiss on the edge of his lips. before he can think to reciprocate, you wink at him and head off.
he’s left alone for a moment, and he drags his hand over his face. taking a steadying breath, deep to fill his lungs, he pops open the rest of the buttons, pushing his arms out of the sleeves. maybe he feels insecure about his body, less agile, aged over years of dancing, and a little leaner than he was used to. he stares at his bare arms, spotted with a few splashes of vitiligo.
he’s finally nude, trembling a little in the empty room as he pads over to the bed to swipe a bathrobe and slip it over his body. the room is warm, yet his skin raises in goosebumps as he makes his way to the bathroom.
michael pushes past the door and spots you in the giant bathtub, already covered in suds with your hair neatly wrapped in a colored scarf. you smile at him from beneath the bubbles, wiggling your eyebrows, and he notices your skin is covered in goosebumps, same as his. he nearly misses the two large wine glasses by the edge of the tub steps and the three differently colored bottles on the opposite end of the tub. there’s a small smorgasbord of assortments over a wooden plate, filled with a few cheeses, some grapes, crackers, and condiments he can’t recognize.
he steps forward shyly, head down. you glance away, to give him privacy, he thinks, and busy yourself with the glasses. “white or red wine?” you ask.
michael takes the opportunity to disrobe and pad up the steps carefully. something pokes his shin, and he looks down at your outstretched hand. your attention is still not on him, reading the label on the bottle. he takes it silently as you help him into the deep tub. he murmurs a meek thanks and moves further into the water, letting his body adjust to the heat.
“geez, woman, what’d you mix this with, lava?” he sloshes around with a hiss, trying to settle in. you finally look up to meet his eyes with a loud laugh. it echoes in the room. he chuckles, shaking his head, feeling the hair flow around him.
your eyes snap to his neck, and he realizes you’re staring at his hair, wetting at the tips. you begin to rise, the water rippling around your form. his gaze is locked onto your nipples peeking through the soapy suds as you grab for something behind you. you lean over him, a scrunchie around your wrist.
“here,” you pause, then look down at him. he’s peering up at you with big doe eyes. “should i…?”
“it’s okay,” he reaches for your wrist, and slips the ring around his hair. he hears you slosh back into your position by the wine glasses. “i forgot about it. thank you.”
“of course.” you lift the bottle next to you, a sweet moscato, and shake it gently at him with raised brows. “eh? eh?”
michael giggles, curling his knees away from his chest. “gimme red.” he feels your toes by his shin, and he swallows.
he watches you struggle with turning the wine opener for a few seconds before barking out a loud laugh. you pout as he outreaches his arm, taking the tool and bottle from you. “here.”
he’s a little smug as he twists the metal into the cork, tugging at the plug with a few strong pulls. when it makes a sound pop, you flash your teeth in a wide grin and clap politely. you extend one glass to him as he pours it smoothly, but he’s surprised when you extend the second one to him.
“didn’t you want the moscato?” he asks with a blink. you wave the glass impatiently at him.
“i’ll have what the gentleman is having.” your voice is like silk as he pours your glass halfway. he bites his lip shyly and covers his mouth with a soapy hand as you pull back to hand him his drink.
you raise it above the water. “to the man who made it all possible. thank you for believing in me.”
he smiles slowly, mirroring your toast. “to the woman…who changed my life for the better.”
you share in his grin as your glasses clink together and you take small sips in silence, basking in each other’s presence. he watches you over the rim of his glass, letting the alcohol wet his tongue. all inhibitions and insecurities feel fuzzier now, yet not completely gone. the aura in the room is delicate as you sling an arm over the rim of the tub, casually.
like the two of you weren’t naked, in a bathtub, in sweden. manager and popstar.
michael scowls into his drink. he doesn’t like that label anymore, as the wine tastes more sour in his mouth.
“you okay?” he glances over at you. your eyes are gleaming at him, though a little worried.
“yeah, yeah, i’m okay, dove.” he assures you, settling his glass on the rim to the side. his body is more adjusted to the temperature of the water, and he plays with the bubbles between his fingers. “this is all so…” he struggles to find the words.
you swirl the wine glass between your fingers. “romantic?” you offer.
he chuckles, a little embarrassed that he, as a grown man, is unable to say what comes so easily to you, a younger woman. “yeah, it is. it’s so heartwarming.”
you raise the glass to your lips again, and he senses you’re hiding behind the alcohol when you mutter, “i told you, i like you.”
there it is again. not the l-word he wants to hear from your lips. he tries to ignore how cool the tub wall is when he leans back against it, letting the wine glass float a bit above the sud-filled water.
“where do we go from here, fox?” michael asks solemnly. there’s a sharp pang in his heart.
you study his features, and he lets you, trying to hold your gaze as his heart beats louder in his ears. you glance down into your glass, throw your head back down the remaining alcohol, and shift to place the empty glass behind you. you lick your stained lips slowly.
“i’ve been thinking about you, michael.” your hands gather the bubbles in front of your chest, stacking them. “about us. what we are and, you know, what we could be. and i have feelings for you. i mean, you should know that by now.”
he blinks the bangs out of his face and tilts his head to face you more head-on. “it’s hard for me to tell with these things. you have to understand, girl—”
“i know,” you interrupt. “you don’t trust people.”
“i can’t,” he corrects you. your eyes snap up to meet his.
“i know,” you repeat, more softly. you sigh, pressing your palms into the bubbles to drown them. “i just don’t know how to approach you because of that. i’m not sure if your heart is open to me. or if you would…want to be with me, in a serious relationship.”
michael sets his glass next to him and moves forward, pruned fingers grazing your thighs. your eyes are trained on the bubbles in front of you, though you know he is moving. he rubs you there. “look at me because i'm only gonna say this once.”
when your lashes lift to meet his eyes, they’re glazed and watery. your pupils quiver as they search his face for answers, frantic. you look wounded.
“i’ve loved many people in my life. many women.” he bears his heart open. “i’ve always wanted someone who sees me for me. i never wanted someone to fix me, i just need to be accepted for who i am.”
your eyebrows triangulate at his words, and his heart tears in two as he feels his eyes burn, watering. “i love you, girl. i know you know that. do you feel it? do you feel the same?”
you break into a small laugh, a few stray tears spilling from your eyes. “yes, i do, michael. i love you as the man you are.”
his lips split into a smile as he raises a hand from the water, brushing away a tear. he doesn’t care that it’s nonsensical since you’re more wet now, but the action is what counts. you lean forward, kissing his lips with a giggle on your lips.
“tell me,” he begs you softly as he pulls you into his lap. “tell me why you love me.”
your fingers smooth over his collarbone while he wraps his arms around your damp torso, wiping the suds from your skin. “you’re such a kind soul. everything you do is done with the intention to heal. you’re goodness incarnate.”
michael listens to you ramble while you settle in his lap, and he’s already half-hard. “my goddess,” he presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. he feels your throat rumble under his lips as you hum.
“i love the dimples in your cheeks when you smile,” you continue against his lips, letting him kiss you between words. “your desire to help others. you always bless others even if they don’t deserve it. you’re–you’re so good—”
he can’t take it anymore, the way your pussy is twitching over his cock’s length, the words you’re saying to him, your kisses, your confession, breathy tones. it’s all so much to him, and it’s all he can handle as he plants his palms against your back to sandwich your chest against his and his lips desperately find yours.
all the heat from the water has made him delirious, and the only sounds he can register are the waves of the water sloshing around the two of your rocking bodies and your lips locked against each other. there’s no other thought on michael’s mind as a heavy stone rolls off his heart. he wants you badly, more than just your body, and he’s delighted to have your heart.
when your hands grasp his wrists to direct his hands to your breasts, he breaks the kiss to watch your face as his thumb rubs over the peak. your eyes squeeze shut with a low moan reverberating through the bathroom, and his mouth gravitates to your nipple, swallowing the bud in between his lips.
“michael,” you whine. “my love—”
he lets his tongue flick the perky bud as his other hand fondles your breast. he’s cupping and squeezing, applying pressure and really feeling your body. he switches the attention he’s giving to the other breast, administering the same motions. the feeling of your slick pussy lips splitting over his shaft is driving him insane.
it’s wild how he can feel your arousal through the water.
that’s all it takes for his pace to pick up. he wanted to take his time with you, but he feels restricted by the barrier of the water from properly handling you. he doesn’t want to fuck you; the only objective he has on his mind is to properly make love to you. with you.
“c’mere, girl,” he slides you off with a final lick to your nipple, watching you shiver.
you both rise, stealing small kisses from each other and eyeing the other’s body with admiration. he’s in love with how effortless you look, swan-like, stepping out of the bathtub, sliding your hand into his as he helps you down. he grabs a towel from the side sink and fluffs it around your figure, patting your skin down. he smiles up at you once he dries your feet and catches your soft gaze on him.
he’s happy to see you from the angle, you are divine. you reach up to unwrap the scarf from your head and massage the hair loose.
you reach for another towel off the rack by the door and return the favor for him, as he tries not to stiffen up at your touch. no one has seen him like this before, least not in this age and state. he feels disgusted at being older, aging, but you don’t seem to mind as you fluff the towel down his body, patting any wet spots you find.
when you reach his half-hard cock, your mouth quirks into a small smile, but he’s aghast when you ignore it, opting to pat down his thighs and calves. you straighten up, balancing on the balls of your feet, and finally, gently, wrap the towel around his cock and lightly dry him. his hand flies to your shoulder, and he steadies his breath when you sneakily place a sweet kiss over his leaking tip.
“can’t seem to dry that,” you murmur jokingly, tossing the towel to the side and coming back up to sling your arms around his neck.
he chuckles against your lips, gently walking both of you backwards, eyeing the bed behind you. “don’t worry, there must be a remedy for it.”
“mm,” you hum knowingly. your calves hit the bed, and he bends you backward to climb onto the bed, letting you tug him down with your falling figure. he braces his arm underneath your head and slots himself between your legs, which are slowly opening for him. your thigh wrapped over his hip, his calloused fingers tug you closer.
he leans in to brush his nose against yours. “tell me you’re mine.”
“i’m yours, michael,” you whisper. his cock slides through your folds without friction, and you arch into him when his tip bumps your hidden clit. “all yours, and you’re mine. my man.”
michael reaches down between your bodies to grasp himself with a clenched hiss, folding his cock into your wet heat. you’re twitching around nothing, and your walls catch the tip of his dick, making him whine. you’re holding his face, breasts pressed against him, feeling the sharp poke of your nipples brush over his skin.
when he finally slides the first few inches into you, his hand grasps the fat of your hips to angle you over his cock as the other crooks over your neck to hug you closer to him. you’re moaning into his kisses, pushing your hips down onto his length, and he nearly faints with relief when he feels you stretch over his driving cock.
michael finally sank into you, and all he could think to do is suckle and kiss your sweet lips, squeezing his elbow in to bring you even closer to his body. he wants to meld himself into your skin, become one, as your lower halves grind and gyrate into each other. it’s electrifying, the gentle tingle he feels spreading across his skin, and he’s worried he won’t last long.
he pants into your mouth when you pull away, brushing at his hair, your nimble fingers dancing at the back of his head. you tug, softly, at the hair on the nape of his neck, and he squeaks with pleasure. “hagh!”
he palms your ass, directing your hip movements as he settles you over his cock, again and again and again. the squelch of desire sounds through the room, your breaths overcoming one another, and he cranes his neck to smother you in more wet kisses. he’s crazy about you, more desire and love in his chest filling up than anything he ever felt before, and he prays this is not just a very vivid dream.
regardless, you’re the best dream he’s had in a long time. he wants you for longer if he can help it. he’s allowing his greed to overtake his heart, making a note to apologize to whoever was listening later.
when you whisper sweet nothings to him, he falls. he rolls his hips hard into yours, pressing into you there and holding. you cum unexpectedly and shake in his embrace. he’s spilling himself into you, and the edges of his body feel numb. every nerve is on fire, his blood rushing through his ears and sweat coating his fresh skin. you’re holding his cheek as you orgasm, trying to stare into his eyes.
he waits for you to catch your breath, giving you a small smile. you smile back at him with shining teeth.
and then he takes you again.
on your knees, with your thighs pressed to your chest, as he stands on the edge of the bed with your legs dangling over his bony hips, and even pressed up against the mirror as he makes you watch yourself and how he takes you.
michael lathers love to your body, massaging the soles of your feet as he dips his tongue into your cunt while you struggle to spread your thighs wide for him. he realizes he likes squeezing your rump when you cum over his mouth, and he knows you like it when he jitters his jaw against you, working his tongue over your abused clit while his deft fingers pump you raw. it excites him when your nipples perk at the touch of his fingertips, especially the ones that were just inside you, damp with your slick.
he likes how you ramble as he pumps his hips into you, and he just smiles lovingly at your words, using long fingers to brush the hair away from your face. michael tries to respond, but can’t keep up, and he honestly loves to hear what you have to say. everything you’ve felt in the past three years, unsaid and unfiltered, is a melody to his ears.
you scream your adoration for him, how long you wanted him for, how no man on earth can compare to him, how he occupies your thoughts and dreams, every sweet song you’ve ever written is a love letter to him, and how you’re his knight in shining armor. it turns him on to hear how you explicitly tell him you love him as an older man. he supposes it makes him feel better about aging.
he doesn’t care how spent he is, body used to exhaustion and exertion as he lies by your side, figure curled behind yours. he’s spooning your back, smoothing a hand over your skin and drawing nonsensical shapes into it. your breath is slowly evening out, but the grip you have on his hand doesn’t waver. your thumb steadily returns soothing circles over the skin on the back of his hand, and he presses occasional kisses to your shoulder.
michael presses his cheek against your body, closing his eyes as he prays fr guidance on the next course of action. sweden was not forever, and people change their minds. he’s happy to spend time with you, to have you while he can, but he feels guilty nonetheless when doubt seeps into the corners of his mind.
you shift a little, wrapping the thin sheet over your chest. “stop thinking,” you mumble.
he huffs out a laugh. “’m not.”
your hand pats his hand with a playful smack. “don’t lie. i’m sleepy, not stupid.”
ꫂ❁ thoughts from saff: if you made it this far, i need feedback. comments pls a crumb! what did y’all think!! honest thoughts! if you don't, you hate me
