Michael Jackson Fanfic - Blog Posts

TURKEY, GREENS, AND…

[you made dinner, but mike is hungry for something else…] | 2.1k words

WARNINGS: fem! reader , sexual themes , fingering , oral (f! receiving) , penetration , dirty talk , another size kink if you squint

[1991]

he’d called a few hours ago to let you know he’d be home late. you’d thought, by the grace of something holy, you’d be fast asleep by the time he slips into bed with you, but it becomes clearer as the night grows heavier that you too had begun to adapt to michael’s nocturnal tendencies. perhaps begrudgingly, you are wide awake. so you wait for him while your cornbread cools by the oven, still hot from the turkey dinner you made while he was gone, flicking aimlessly through the late night channels, legs curled under you until, well past midnight, you hear his key turn in the door.

he seems surprised to see you bumbling to the foyer, displaying you’d been strong enough to wait up. and he seems quite pleased by it, wrapping his arms around you and dipping you in love.

you beam at his sleepy doting. “hi, baby.”

“hi, angel,” he muses, capturing your lips in a devout kiss. “i didn’t wake you did i?”

you shake your head, nuzzle against him, the heady scent of him slipping into your nose and warming every nerve. his cologne, sweet hair oil, the perfect treat he was for you. “i missed you.”

“i missed you more,” he answers. his voice low, tired. his fingers squeeze you closer like he wants to bring you somewhere.

you size him up, arms secure around his neck. “did you eat at all while you were over there?”

he chuckles boyishly, already used to the question, and the repercussions of fibbing to get out of it. “no. we didn’t have time.”

you figured just as much, but could strangle bill and ted anyway. “well, i’ll heat up dinner for you, baby, you must be starving.”

you fail to notice that his grip on you doesn’t fall away easy. the fabric of your shirt, that he so aptly attempts to grab a hold of, slips urgently through his fingers and that’s when he notices. that’s his shirt. one of his collared button-downs draped over you like a nightgown.

those ardent eyes trail after you on the way through the house like you were a pie wafting on a windowsill. his bottom lip disappears beneath his teeth, seemingly staving off temptation.

“smells good, baby,” he says as casually as he can muster it and his ‘good’ comes out like gary, indiana snuck in through the backdoor and yawned back into his bones. you hum into a smile, the sound melting you delightfully like a popsicle on the fourth of july.

“it’s the cornbread,” you simper, bare feet padding onto the clear kitchen tiles. you bend into the fridge light. the tail of michael’s shirt betrays you, giving way to a glimpse of your panties. “your mom gave me the recipe for her turkey and greens. did you want all of it?” then, in the drawer at your hips, silverware clink and dink in your fingers, the large dinner plate you had wrapped in foil sat right beside you on the kitchen island. “i can just give you the turkey if you don’t want the whol—“

your face flushes a becoming red, surprise beams all the way down to the tips of your toes. you shift and feel nearly every inch of michael, spread out and solid, against your body through the fierce strain in his pants. you laugh, you think, but it comes out like a twist between a gasp and a gulping sound. you feel michael’s hands sneak around your waist, pulling you into his needy embrace, his mouth bending to your skin, sweeping onto your neck with gluttonous kisses.

you find his hands with yours, eyes fluttering closed to the heat of his touch. “don’t you want dinner?”

he doesn’t respond, just slips his hands beneath his shirt. slow palms wipe your skin with a sweetness, finding your breasts bare as he tenderly cups them. the shirt raises, exposing your near nakedness below.

“aren’t you hungry, baby?” you try again, though your voice only sighs meekly, cowering your head back onto his collarbone. tension quickly falls from you.

“‘s not what i’m hungry for,” he replies, simply, still mouthing along your neck.

“baby…”

he hums into your shoulder, sending vibrations dipping all down your body like it was a line on the telephone.

“you look so good in my shirt.” the ‘good’ dancing out again like sipping iced tea on the rickety back porch.

his skin grazes your nipples delectably, the decadence makes you want to fill your mouth with something. his unoccupied hand sweeps down your belly. you welcome his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties.

“mm mm mm,” he marvels at the feel of you with a shake of his head. your neck now slick with the remnants of his tongue.

michael places his weight on your back, sandwiching you between his fingers making a mess of you and his dick gliding against the fabric still covering you from behind. your moans come out weakly, his arms like a harness for you to lean into as you slip your hips back and forth, grinding on each other.

“i’ve always wanted t’…t’ do it here,” he whispers, huskily.

“me too…” and you have. you often imagined it like this, after dona would go for the day, just the two of you, making love, hands begging for mercy against the counter, and finding nothing to grab.

you shiver against him. he swipes deep between your legs with his middle finger. slick stains his skin.

that was all he needed. his shoe nudges your heels as he slides it in between your feet and you tip toe your legs apart, the way you open feels serene in his baptized hands. “that’s it…that’s it, baby…my baby…” he coos, coaxing you. his open mouth huffing like a furnace. “you gonna give it to me?”

your hands cup the edge of the marble, wordless.

“hm?”

your temples sweat as you nod your answer. “mhm.”

his hand rebounds, wetting your belly as he pulls it away. that sweet ache he leaves you with sends a whine up throat.

“bend over.”

you had no time, no desire, to question what’d gotten into him, like a hound on a leash, you obey. he kneels down, observing your thighs quivering with the strain of arousal. his touch is light and ticklish as his hands sail up the back of your legs, pushing his shirt over your hips and effortlessly dragging your panties down. he, with his manners shining, stretches the fabric in his fingers so you can step out of them, expanding the dark spot where you soaked through. with a light pull on your shin, he beckons you around.

seeing him down on one knee sent your heartbeat seething through you. you pulse, flowering like his face was the sun. he brings your foot up to his knee, resting the sole on it. you watch him wet three fingers in his mouth, a concentrated lust brewing. he touches you gently, spreading your lips apart like he was searching for a jewel. he smiles when he finds it. but he doesn’t let himself win it yet.

he flicks his gaze up at you and then down at her, like he was proud of it. “pretty girl…” he whispers, his tongue peaking out from between his perfect smiling teeth.

he lifts his head to you, slowly, pointedly, zig zagging his tongue from the bottom to the top, humming his eyes shut as your scent envelops him. heavy, sweet, the tip of his tongue now covered in your slick pool. his sweet mouth seals around your clit, sucks and licks, one hand cradles your ankle, the other stabilizes your trembling hip. he swallows the longing as it spills down his throat.

“oh—michael—y-yes.” your hands sweep into his hair, not pulling, but leading the loose curls into your fists, massaging his head like a house cat. “yes,” you whimper, rocking into his tongue, feeling so good, feeling so free. it’s your house and you can have your man; your pop-star; the king between your legs, in your kitchen, whenever you so please.

his eyes open, eyelashes aflutter, as he guides his fingertips to your throbbing core, already clutching around the idea of him. it’s easy, when he slides each of them inside and curls deftly. two of his knuckles bend into your ridged wall, petting you in all ways. you keep your hands in his hair, breathlessly moaning, stepping onto his thigh deeper with each nudge of his fingers and tongue, each suckle from his lips. your mouth slacks as you come, body elated and shaking while he sucks it up, still caressing you inside until you keel over his head, his mouth berating you to bliss like an incessant drum. then, he stops, soft and loving, giggling under your belly.

you let him up, the muscles in your abdomen utterly spent.

“you alright, baby?” he cups your face in his talented hands, gazing into your eyes. his smile smug. triumphant.

“y-yes,” you pant.

his thumb brushes over your lips. gentle. “you want more?”

you answer like a girl possessed, “yes.”

what time was it? what did it matter? the food? oh…you forgot all about that.

“you want it right here?”

he peers into your eyes, they’re flooded with silent pleading.

“i want it right here,” you echo, lips parted, words pour out of you like a most desperate beg.

his lips collapse into yours, the kisses between you quick and clouded by passion. your hands tug fabric from his pants, knocking into tight muscles, soft and smooth on your fingers. his zipper lowers with a high pitched grind, his lips all over you, wildly claiming skin as your breath sweeps out of you in gusts. michael kisses down your neck and licks back up the muscle, closing his mouth around your earlobe.

his hands grab and spin you, pressing his palm to your lower back. as you lay your chest flat to the surface, you look at him, his eyes cast down to the pearling between your legs.

“mmm…baby.” he eases against the opening. you part for him without any toil and he rocks you into a dream, one so entangled in love.

tears fill your eyes to accompany your whimpering at the depth of him. all of his girth barely squeezing inside, especially not from this angle. your body arches into whatever irrepressible sensation he gives. you love him, you thought, you love him so much.

his hips speed. quicker and quicker, but loving all the same. his hands cull your body up to drape his head against your shoulder. with his hold on you, you can feel his heart beating. you can feel it everywhere. in a sudden bite of passion, you drag your knee up on the counter edge and he groans, edging deeper inside.

“you don’t understand what you do to me.” he begins to chant into your ear, sweating from all his longing. “you don’t understand…” he shakes his head, his voice a broken plea. “you don’t understand, baby.”

you hook your arm around his head, your folded shirtsleeve drooping up on your bicep. you pull him in, looking deeply into his doe eyes.

“make me…make me understand—i—i wanna—ah—understand.” your breath comes out in hitches, sucking the air from your words.

a soft growl rumbles from him. the heat from his body, the heat from his thrusts grasping you, trampling every thought and function. he rolls his fingers around your clit and you quiver inside. again and again and again until you’re whimpering.

“c’mon, baby, c’mon, baby.” he hooks onto your mouth, the kiss deep and fast as you tighten into orgasm, a spasm tumbling around his throbbing width. slowly reopening, unable to recover, you feel yourself spill over, slipping and shaking along his length like grooving waves. your leg gently comes down as he empties you with a quickness. he holds your gasping body close to him as he pumps his length, wet with your arousal, and comes into his fist.

the afterglow looks hazy, sleepy, and smiling. your hands rub his face affectionately, your lips kiss the corner of his mouth. “you want your dinner now?”

michael lets out a noise that resembles a snort. you look at him with a confused smile…you’re not joking.

𝚃𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 & 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐

Smut

1986

New York City

Word Count: 10.7k

The hotel suite pulsed with the relentless beat of music, every throb reverberating through the walls as you lay on the bed, trying to focus on the movie flickering across the screen. But with the heavy bass pounding through the air and Michael's voice cutting through the chaos as he rehearsed for his upcoming short film, concentration was a lost cause. You knew better than to interrupt him when he was in his zone, especially with the tension that had been building over the last few days. He was becoming more withdrawn, his stress accumulating like storm clouds, and even the brief moments before sleep had become silent and strained.

With a sigh, you gripped the remote and turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise from the main room. The television blared, but it was barely a match for the music and the sharp edge in Michael's tone as he barked out instructions to the dancers. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the way it cracked like a whip through the air.

Suddenly, the music cut off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet before Michael slipped inside. His usually well-kept curls were in disarray, his tie hung loose around his neck, and one of his sleeves was still buttoned as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you.

"Can you turn that down, please?" His voice was strained, almost pleading, but it held a firmness that warned against defiance.

You didn't say anything, just reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the room now thick with unspoken tension.

"Thank you," Michael murmured before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a reminder of the growing distance between you.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the way he'd been acting gnawing at you. You were done tiptoeing around him. Without hesitation, you clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside, throwing the covers back with a decisive flick. As you rose, your reflection caught your eye in the mirror, the black satin of your nightgown clinging to every curve, a silent testament to the power you still held over him.

You reached up, fingers brushing through your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders in a soft cascade. With one last glance in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door, the music immediately assaulting your senses once more.

Your footsteps were muffled against the plush cream-colored carpet as you made your way down the hall. When you reached the main room, your bare feet met the cool surface of the hardwood floor, grounding you as you took in the scene before you. Michael was in the middle of the room, his movements sharp and precise as he demonstrated choreography to Jeffery and Gregg. But the moment you entered, their focus shifted, eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and something far less innocent.

"Damn, Mrs. J," Jeffery muttered, his voice dripping with appreciation.

Gregg let out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, instantly drawing Michael's attention.

His gaze snapped to you, narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Baby, what are you doing out here dressed like that? Go back to the room," he commanded, his tone a mix of protective concern and simmering irritation.

Ignoring his words, you sauntered across the room, feeling the weight of their stares on you. You sank into the plush sofa, crossing your legs slowly, the satin of your gown shifting with the movement. "I just came to watch," you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's not like I'll be a distraction."

Michael's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his composure. He looked away from you, a storm brewing in his dark eyes as he clapped his hands together sharply, drawing the others' attention back to him. "We don't have all night," he snapped, his voice a dangerous edge. "Let's get to work, and quit eyeing my wife."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, their tones subdued, though you could still feel their lingering gazes.

As the music surged back to life, you leaned deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, savoring the heat that curled in your chest. The satisfaction of knowing you had his attention, the way his eyes flickered back to you despite his attempts to stay focused, sent a thrill through you. You weren't about to let that go—not tonight.

Your gaze followed his every move, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. The way his hips swayed in time with the beat, the sharpness of his spins, the precise snap of his fingers—it all spoke of control, discipline, and a deep, simmering passion. But there was also a wildness to him tonight, the way his half-untucked shirt clung to his torso, how the damp air clung to his curls, making them even wilder. Despite the chill of a November night in New York, the heat in the room was palpable, a testament to the intensity with which he worked.

Michael turned to speak to the dancers, his voice authoritative, though his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary before he forced himself to look away.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that curled your lips as you slid your feet up onto the couch, reclining in a way that accentuated the curve of your body. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let one of the straps of your satin nightgown slip down your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. The moment it fell, his attention snapped back to you, the frustration clear in the tight line of his mouth. You winked at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenched in response. He was trying to maintain his composure, especially in front of his colleagues, but you knew you were getting to him.

Determined to keep the game going, you called his name, your voice a sultry purr that sliced through the music. "Michael..."

He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with exasperation and something darker as he turned to face you. "Yes, doll?" he asked, his tone betraying a careful restraint.

"I'm thirsty," you said, your voice laced with innocent mischief. "Could you get me a glass of juice?"

Michael's eyes darkened, a silent warning that you were treading on thin ice. "You two keep working. I'll be back," he told the dancers, his voice clipped as he walked off toward the kitchenette. The sharp sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut punctuated the tension in the air.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine—a mix of anger and desire burning beneath the surface. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. "Here," he said, the word barely more than a growl.

You looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you accepted the juice. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, your tone sweet and saccharine.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Keep going, and I won't be nice after I'm finished rehearsing." His hand cupped your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You held his stare, your smile widening as you felt a delicious thrill run through you. "I'd like that," you replied with a soft chuckle, your voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver visibly ran through him, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he sighed deeply, releasing your chin and pulling back. Without another word, he returned to the dancers, his movements sharp and deliberate, though there was a new tension in his body. You could tell you were getting to him, unraveling that tight control he always prided himself on.

As you sipped your orange juice, your eyes locked onto Michael, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Every move he made was laced with tension, his body more charged, more deliberate, as if he was trying to shake off the effect you had on him. But you knew better. No amount of rehearsing could quell the fire you'd ignited tonight. The game was on, and it was clear you were winning.

When Michael finally wrapped up the rehearsal, he escorted the dancers to the door, his demeanor calm and composed, though you could sense the storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. He watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator, his eyes following them until the doors closed. The click of the lock echoed through the suite as he secured the door for the night.

He turned back to you, leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. The tension in his posture was palpable, yet his voice was deceptively calm as he crooked a finger, beckoning you over. "Come here."

You took your time, savoring the last sip of your juice before setting the glass down on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it on the wood. You stood and walked over to him, your eyes never leaving his, the distance between you closing with each step until you were just a breath away.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice soft, almost innocent, though the challenge in your eyes was anything but.

Michael's gaze traveled slowly down your body, then back up to meet your eyes. "What were you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low, simmering with restrained frustration.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean? I just came in to watch."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in his expression. "Dressed like this? In your nightgown?" His voice was sharp, each word edged with the accusation you knew he was holding back.

You met his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin. "It's late at night, Michael. What do you expect? You should have rehearsed earlier instead of the ass-crack of midnight," you shot back, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Michael's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Watch your damn mouth," he hissed, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

You shrugged again, your expression daring him to make good on his warning. "You gonna make me?" you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "You've been doing all this talk, but where's the action? Saying you're going to do this to me, do that to me, but where's all the follow-through? Hmm?"

Michael's eyes darkened further, his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface as he bit the inside of his cheek, a vain attempt to rein in the storm brewing within him. The fire in his gaze told you that you were pushing him, maybe even further than he could handle. The tension between you was almost unbearable, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment. His restraint was admirable, but you could see it fraying, and it was only a matter of time before it unraveled completely, releasing something far more intense.

"What?" you taunted, your voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're just going to stand there and look at me like that? Fine, I'll just go to bed then." You turned on your heel, making a move to leave, but Michael's hand shot out, his grip firm as he pulled you back, your body colliding with his. The heat of his frustration and desire radiated off him in waves, and for a moment, all you could feel was the intense thrum of his heartbeat against your own.

"What's your issue?" he demanded, his voice low, gravelly, tinged with the barely restrained anger that you'd stirred up in him.

You met his gaze, your expression unyielding, even as your pulse quickened under his touch. "What's your issue?" you countered, raising a brow, your tone defiant.

Michael's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your arm just enough to make you gasp. "Stop acting like this," he growled, his voice laced with a warning that you were all too eager to ignore.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, your eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. The smirk on your lips was enough to push him even closer to the edge, and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes—the battle between his desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in.

For a moment, Michael just stared at you, his eyes raking over your form as if undressing you with his gaze alone. He licked his lips, his frustration giving way to something darker, something more primal. He released his grip on your arm, but before you could step back, his voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

A smile curled on your lips as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, the anticipation thrumming in your veins. Michael reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive tenderness. "Open your mouth," he whispered, his voice a dark promise of what was to come.

You obeyed, parting your lips for him, your gaze locked onto his as you looked up, awaiting his next move. Slowly, deliberately, he eased his four fingers into your mouth, his other hand cradling the back of your head as he pushed them deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers making your eyes water as you fought to accommodate him.

"You're going to stop teasing me, right?" he murmured, his voice dark and laced with a dangerous edge. "Stop acting up when I'm working? Because that's what you seem to keep doing."

The weight of his fingers in your mouth made it difficult to respond, but you nodded as best you could, your eyes watering further as he pulled your head up slightly, forcing you to gag on his fingers. The involuntary reaction sent a shudder through your body, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, his voice sharp as he applied just a bit more pressure.

You nodded again, the movement constrained by the tight grip he had on you.

"Will you stop?" he pressed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded once more, your eyes pleading, though the defiant spark hadn't entirely left them. Michael smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he watched you, the power dynamic between you crystal clear.

"I don't know if I believe you," he murmured, his voice thick with suspicion and a hint of amusement.

A whimper escaped your throat, your eyes wide and filled with pleading as you gazed up at him, desperate for some form of release, though you knew you were far from done playing this game. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of your actions bearing down on you, the consequences of your teasing unfolding in real-time. The smirk on his lips only grew, and you knew that you were in for exactly what you had been provoking all night.

Michael's gaze darkened further, his breath catching as he felt the tension between you both mounting. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound, every movement magnified in the charged atmosphere you'd both created. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips in a gentle caress that belied the intensity burning in his eyes. He tapped the side of your face lightly, and you obediently closed your mouth, the teasing smile still playing at the corners of your lips as you held his gaze.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice stern, commanding.

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared him down, the flames of desire flickering between you, growing hotter with each passing second. Michael advanced on you, his presence overwhelming, forcing you to retreat step by step until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. You fell back, your eyes never leaving his as he loomed over you, his expression unreadable, a mix of controlled fury and unspoken need.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated only for a moment, letting the tension stretch before you reached up and slowly pulled down the straps of your nightgown, your eyes locked on his as you revealed yourself to him. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your waist before you let it drop completely, leaving you bare before him. The warmth of the room caressed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Michael's gaze as he devoured every inch of you with his eyes.

Michael stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he loosened his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. But before it could settle, you grabbed it, wrapping it around your neck with a playful grin, holding the ends in your hands as you looked up at him through your lashes. "What are you going to do to me?" you asked, your voice a sultry whisper as you spread your legs, inviting him in.

Michael's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of you before returning to your face. He moved in, standing between your legs, his large hand cupping your face, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him. The raw power he held over you was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he raised a brow, challenging you to push him further.

Your hand trailed up his thigh, brushing over his growing erection, feeling the heat radiating through his slacks. He groaned at your touch, his jaw tightening as you gave him a teasing squeeze. "You've been stressed," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of sympathy and seduction, knowing full well the effect you were having on him.

Michael's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident in the way his breath hitched. "I know I have. I've been busy working," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control.

You leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper as you teased, "Lose the stress." Then, without warning, you turned around on the sofa, presenting yourself to him on all fours, your back arched provocatively. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

Michael's control snapped. He moved in, pressing his body against yours, his arousal grinding into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling you back into him. He started to dry thrust against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his other hand settled on the small of your back, holding you in place. "I will," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "But you've been teasing me, and I think it's time for me to tease back."

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, each one pushing you closer to the edge as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs, soaking through his slacks. The pressure of his bulge against your bare core was maddening, heightening your need with every movement, but he held back, refusing to give you the release you craved.

"You don't like when I tease you, do you?" he asked, his voice laced with a dark amusement, enjoying the power he held over you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of his touch, the heat of his fingers searing a path down your spine. "I do," you panted, the words coming out breathy, laced with the challenge you knew he couldn't resist. Glancing back at him, your eyes burned with a fiery determination, a silent dare that you knew would ignite something uncontrollable in him. The moment your words left your lips, you saw it—the final shred of restraint in his gaze snapping, his pupils darkening to pools of raw desire. His body, taut and coiled like a predator ready to strike, trembled with the need to claim you, to make you his in a way that left no room for doubt.

Michael's grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you back against his chest, the heat of his body searing into your skin. The press of his solid form against your back made your breath hitch, the raw power in his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm and teasing as it ghosted over the sensitive skin. "Keep playing with me," he growled low, the words a heated promise that made your knees weak, "and you'll get exactly what you're asking for." The threat in his voice was underscored by the flick of his tongue, tracing a tantalizing path up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you whimper.

"Stop teasing..." you whimpered, the words slipping out involuntarily as you leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

His hand moved lower, the pads of his fingers brushing over the slick folds of your core, a featherlight touch that had your body arching into him, silently begging for more. "Payback, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver straight to your core. "Can't I have a little fun too? After all, you came out here dressed in something only I should see." His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, the fleeting contact making you gasp before he pulled away, leaving you trembling and aching for more.

"Michael, please..." The plea left your lips in a breathless rush, the need coursing through your veins becoming unbearable.

In response, Michael's mouth found your neck, his lips brushing against your skin before sinking in to leave a heated, wet trail that burned with every touch. His hand traveled back up your body, his touch deliberate, almost possessive, until he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your hardened nipple. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his grip made your head spin, your body aching with the intensity of your desire.

His kisses grew more urgent, a mix of soft and rough that left your skin tingling, the wet spots he left behind a mark of his claim. You could feel his teeth graze against your flesh, adding to the delicious torment, each kiss fanning the flames of the fire he had ignited within you.

"Where do you want to do this?" Michael whispered against your ear, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to take you right here, on the floor, in the bedroom... or should we go out on the balcony?" His breath hitched as he nipped at your earlobe, "I'll have you screaming my name all over this city. Let them know just how good I can please my wife."

A needy moan escaped your lips, the thought of being at his mercy in the open air, the night sky above and the city below, sent a thrill through you. "I don't care," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I just want you."

Michael released his grip on your hair and breast, stepping back slightly as he commanded, "Stay here." The absence of his touch left you whimpering, your body yearning for more.

You watched as he strode over to the balcony door, the anticipation building in your chest. With a swift motion, he slid the door open, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the heat of the room. The wind blew through his hair as he stepped out, surveying the city below. He turned back to you, his eyes dark and filled with intent. "Come here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You stood, your legs trembling as you walked over to him, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, sending another shiver down your spine. Michael's gaze lingered on you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed body. He turned his head, glancing over to the piano, where your heels rested. With a calculated step, he walked over and grabbed them, bringing them back to you. "Put these on," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want your feet getting messed up."

You slipped on the heels, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of your skin, your body bare except for the tie still draped around your neck. "Michael, it's cold out there..." you said, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension as you looked out onto the balcony.

Michael shrugged, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and desire. "I don't care," he said, his voice unwavering.

"But Michael, it's—" Your protest was cut off as his hand wrapped around your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you close, the sudden pressure sending a shock of arousal through your body. "I don't care," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Either you let me fuck you on this balcony, or you're not getting anything."

You nodded quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you breathed out, "Yes, Michael..."

With a satisfied smirk, Michael released his hold on you, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you walk outside onto the balcony. The cool air nipped at your skin, but the heat of your desire burned hotter, pushing away any discomfort. You dropped to your knees before him, the hard surface of the balcony pressing into your skin as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of need and anticipation.

Michael moved closer, his eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity that made the world around you seem to vanish. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a faint glow across the balcony, but all you could focus on was him—the way his body radiated heat, the way his breath hitched as you roamed your hands up his clothed thighs.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with anticipation as your fingers traced over the fabric of his slacks, feeling the heat of him beneath.

His response was silent, a slow, deliberate nod. His hand found the top of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a tender, almost possessive caress. His eyes never left yours, dark and heavy with desire, as he watched you undo his slacks, the tension between you building with every second. You pulled the fabric down just enough to reveal the strained bulge behind his linen briefs, the outline of him achingly clear.

Your hand slipped inside, wrapping around his hard, throbbing length. The moment you touched him, you could feel the heat, the pulsing veins that ran along his shaft, each one a testament to the hunger coursing through him. His tip, swollen and slick with precum, glistened in the low light as you pulled him free, the thick skin taut over his aching need.

Michael's hand rested atop yours, guiding your movements as the two of you stroked him in unison. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the tension in his body palpable as you flicked your tongue out, teasing the sensitive tip. The taste of him was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made your body hum with anticipation.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, savoring the taste as you ran your tongue over the bead of precum that lingered on his tip. "You taste good," you murmured, your lips curling into a playful smile as you bit your bottom lip, your gaze locked onto his.

Michael smirked in response, his thumb brushing gently over your lip before watching it fall back into place. "Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As you both continued to stroke him, his length grew harder, the tension in his body intensifying with each movement. You could feel him throb in your hands, the need in him rising as you lowered your head and flicked your tongue around his tip, tasting every bit of him. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, sucking lightly at first, teasing him with the soft press of your lips as your tongue swirled around his length.

His hand tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm pressure as he watched you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The lights from the city bathed his face in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the raw hunger in his eyes. "Just like that, baby," he praised, his voice husky, strained with the effort of keeping control. "You're doing so good."

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, spurring you on as you took him deeper, your mouth stretching around him as you began to bob your head, taking him further with each pass. The feeling of his hard length sliding over your tongue, the way he pulsed in your mouth, filled you with a heady sense of power.

Michael's hands slid to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he let you take control, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Your lips moved down, inch by inch, until you had taken him to the base, your mouth full of him as your tongue traced the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his shaft. You could feel the way his body reacted, the way he shuddered with pleasure as you pulled back, sucking hard on his sensitive tip before plunging down again.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he watched you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. The raw power of his desire sent waves of heat through you, your own body aching for him as you continued to suck him, each movement drawing him closer to the edge.

You felt him throb in your mouth, his body tensing as he neared the brink, but he didn't let go—his hands guiding you, his hips thrusting ever so slightly as you worked him deeper and deeper, your mouth and tongue driving him wild with every flick and swirl. The balcony seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the quiet sounds of the city nothing compared to the heat that crackled between you.

The taste of him, the way he filled your mouth, was overwhelming, pushing you to give him everything, to bring him to the peak and feel him unravel completely in your hands—and in your mouth.

Michael's grip tightened on your head, fingers threading through your hair as he thrust harder, the slick sound of your saliva filling the air as it dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. Each stroke of his hips was forceful, deliberate, pushing deeper into your mouth until you could feel his tip grazing the back of your throat with every movement. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you gagged lightly, the sensation sending shivers through your body as you held onto his thighs for balance.

"Good girl," Michael groaned, his voice low and thick with pleasure as he watched you take him, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva glistening on your skin. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tightening around him as he thrust even harder, his pace quickening. The heat between you was unbearable, the tension building as he moved faster, his length driving deeper into your mouth, your body trembling from the intensity of it. You gagged again, the sound muffled around him as he pulled out slightly, only to ram himself back into your throat with even more force.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the pleasure. You let your jaw go slack, relaxing your throat as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely, letting him use you.

Tears welled in your eyes, the pressure building as he moved with a desperate urgency, his hips bucking against your face, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands. You gazed up at him, your eyes watery, cheeks flushed, feeling every pulse, every throb of his cock as he neared his climax.

A heavy groan ripped from his throat, his body trembling as his grip tightened on your hair. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, thrusting deep one final time, his cock buried in your throat as he released, the warmth of his seed filling your mouth in thick, hot spurts.

"Just like that, baby. Take it all," he whispered, his voice ragged with pleasure. You swallowed, your throat working around him as you took every last drop, your body shuddering with the effort as you didn't waste a single bit.

As he slowly pulled out, his breathing still heavy, he reached down and wiped your lips, his thumb brushing over your chin. Without a word, he eased his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck the last remnants from his skin, the taste lingering on your tongue as you gazed up at him, your lips still parted.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slid it between his own lips, sucking it clean with a satisfied groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now get up," he said, his eyes flashing with renewed hunger. "I'm not done with you yet."

Michael pulled you to your feet with a fluid motion, pressing you tightly against him, your chest flush against his. His hands roamed down your waist, gripping you possessively as he gazed over your body. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm as his eyes devoured every inch of you before meeting your gaze, the heat between you palpable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need, as you reached up to gently brush a stray curl from his face.

A slow smile curled on his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek before he leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "I love you more," he murmured, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But bend over for me," he added, loosening his grip on your waist. "I told you I'm not done."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you walked to the edge of the balcony, your heels clicking against the cool concrete beneath you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against your skin as you bent over, your chest pressing into the thick, stone railing. Michael's footsteps echoed behind you, and the warmth of his presence filled the space as he came to stand behind you.

You wiggled your hips, teasing him, feeling his gaze burn into you. "You're such a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

"I know," you replied, casting a coy glance over your shoulder. "I like what I do."

A low chuckle rumbled from him as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "I can't stand you," he murmured, though the affection in his voice betrayed his words.

"Neither can I," you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Michael dropped to his knees behind you, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed over your folds, and you shivered in anticipation. "Wider," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You obediently spread your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands roamed over the back of your thighs, warm and rough, before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

"Oh, Michael," you moaned, your voice trembling as you arched against the railing. His tongue danced over your sensitive clit, teasing and flicking, before he wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly. The world outside seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, his mouth working magic against you.

His hum of approval vibrated against you, and you gasped as his tongue slid inside you, sending a shock of pleasure through your core. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the railing, your head falling back as you moaned into the cool night air, the sound echoing into the darkness.

Michael's hands gripped your behind, kneading the flesh before bringing one hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the night. "Fuck, Michael!" you cried out, the sting of his palm intensifying the pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers slid inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping slowly, each stroke deliberate as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, standing up behind you, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling under his touch. The lights from the city reflected off the balcony, casting a soft glow across your face as you felt him press closer, his presence overwhelming.

Michael leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, your moans vibrating against his mouth. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own essence, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin. His free hand roamed up your back, fingers curling around the tie still hanging loosely from your neck.

With a firm pull, he tightened the tie just enough to pull you back against him, the pressure making your breath hitch. "Fuck..." you breathed, the heat between your bodies reaching a fever pitch.

"You can take it, princess," he murmured against your ear, his fingers inside you now moving faster, thrusting with a relentless pace. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity.

"Michael, I'm close..." you moaned, your voice desperate, pleading as your body ached for release.

"Just a little longer, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm almost done."

You whined, your entire body shaking as you gripped the railing tighter, your legs quivering from the strain. The pressure was building, overwhelming, and you felt yourself on the edge, begging for that final push over. "Michael, please..."

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your waist as you tossed an arm back, wrapping it around his neck, your body desperate for more contact. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "This is what you wanted, right?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a final thrust of his fingers, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body convulsing as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Michael held you firmly in his grasp, his strong arms anchoring you to him as your legs gave out beneath you. Your trembling body shuddered violently in his embrace, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you struggled to remain standing. His grip was unyielding, his hands tight around your waist, ensuring you didn't fall apart completely as the overwhelming waves of pleasure continued to crash through you.

"Michael, please," you gasped, your voice cracking with the weight of your release. "I can't hold it any longer..."

His lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath making you weak all over again. "Let go," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a hunger that sent another shiver down your spine.

At his command, the last bit of tension within you unraveled like a taut string finally snapping. Your release rushed forward with an intensity that felt almost magical—like a spell, impossible to resist, cast upon you by the one man who knew your body better than anyone else. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing into the night as your release dripped down your thighs and his hand, soaking his fingers.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, the warmth of his breath adding to the fire that still burned inside you. His voice was a smooth murmur, soothing and encouraging. "Let it all out for me."

Your legs shook uncontrollably, your knees buckling as the overwhelming pleasure took control of every muscle in your body. "M-Michael," you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you gasped for breath. "I-I can't take it..."

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending vibrations through you. "You can," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you aching and empty. "And you will."

Your body trembled as he lightly pushed you forward, guiding you to bend over the balcony railing. The cool air hit your flushed skin, contrasting with the burning heat between your legs. His hand moved to the back of your neck, gripping it with firm but gentle authority. You whimpered softly as he released your neck, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

Every touch, every caress, felt electric, and the anticipation that followed each gesture made your body ache with need. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch with a fire that only he could ignite—a fire that would only be quenched by him.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, his voice a low whisper in your ear. "You want more, baby?" he asked, his words dripping with sensuality. "Because I can go all night... and you know this."

You nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to form words. "Y-Yes, Michael..." you whimpered, your body trembling with desire, desperate for him to fill the void he had created.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood back up, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Whatever my baby wants, she gets."

His hand wrapped around his hardened length, and you couldn't help but watch over your shoulder as he brushed the swollen, glistening tip against your soaked folds. The teasing, the slight pressure of his tip pushing just inside before retreating again, drove you mad with need.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need you... Please."

His smirk widened as he teased you again, pushing just the tip in before pulling out, keeping you on the edge, building the tension inside you once more. "I know, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with control and desire. "And you're gonna get exactly what you need."

Michael's smirk deepened as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for more, for all of him. The teasing had driven you to the edge, and now the burn of anticipation was almost unbearable. His eyes were dark and intense, his gaze locked onto yours as he let a slow drop of saliva fall onto his shaft, the slickness adding to the heat between you. "Be patient," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, making your breath hitch.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling as you felt him slowly start to press into you. Inch by inch, his thickness stretched you, filling you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness making you gasp as your walls squeezed around him, struggling to accommodate his size. Your body responded instantly, your muscles tensing as you moaned out, the sound raw and desperate.

He pushed deeper, each inch filling you further, until he was buried to the hilt, his length pulsing inside of you. "Damn..." Michael breathed, his voice rough with arousal. The sight of your bodies connected, his thick shaft disappearing into your slick heat, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight grip of your walls around him, his breath coming in heavy pants.

You tried to reach back, your fingers brushing his skin in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but Michael quickly caught your hand. His grip was firm, his eyes narrowing as he placed your hand back on the railing. "Move your hand," he ordered, his tone firm but laced with heat. "I'll move when I know you're ready."

His words sent a shiver through you, the tension building again as your body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just enough to make you feel the loss before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. His hands were everywhere—possessive, demanding, claiming every inch of your body as his. Each touch sent sparks of electricity down your spine, the sensation of his rough palms on your skin intoxicating.

Michael's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he adjusted your position, arching your back even further, opening you up for him completely. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at where your bodies met. The sight of your slick arousal coating his length drove him wild, a primal need taking over as he watched your body respond to him so perfectly.

Every inch of your body drove him wild, but it wasn't just that—it was the entirety of who you were that unraveled him. The tenderness in your touch, how your fingers would skim over his skin as if you knew just where he needed to be soothed. The way your lips found his, so soft and searching in moments of quiet, whispered love. And the way you looked at him—like he was your world, like nothing else mattered. Those moments had stitched themselves into his heart, every tiny piece of you becoming a part of him, and now, as he moved within you, he poured all that he felt into each thrust, a rhythm woven with emotion.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice trembling with want, "I want it all, stop being so soft."

His grip tightened on your waist, rough hands securing your body as he slowly slid out, teasing you with a deliberate slowness before driving back in with a powerful, unrestrained thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Each thrust was forceful, his body pushing deep inside you until it felt like he was touching the very core of your being. Your legs trembled, and you instinctively reached back to grasp him, needing that connection, but he was quicker. His hand clamped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, owning you in that moment.

"Michael, I—" you whimpered, but your words faltered, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Use your words, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I can't hear you."

"I can't take it," you managed to gasp, pleading, your breath hitching with every thrust.

His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as his thrusts grew more intense, each one a deep, visceral pulse. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, lips grazing your neck as he whispered, "Yes, you can, baby. You can always take it."

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you, and you moaned, needing more, craving the fullness of him. The wind had picked up, stirring the night air, and raindrops began to fall, light at first, a gentle mist that kissed your skin. But then the sky opened up, drenching you both as the storm unleashed itself, the cool water cascading down your bodies. The rain slicked your skin, making every touch, every thrust feel even more electric, the friction replaced with a primal urgency. But Michael didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop—not until he was done.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he groaned, his voice deep and raw. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer as his hips slammed into you harder and deeper, the tip of him grazing against your cervix with every forceful motion. Your moans turned to desperate cries, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, your body shaking as his name ripped from your throat, the sound lost in the symphony of pouring rain.

The lights from the hotel and the city around you cast a shimmering glow through the rain, painting the night in streaks of gold and silver, the wet pavement gleaming beneath your feet. It was surreal, like the world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of you in that storm.

"Michael, don't stop," you begged, your voice barely audible over the pounding rain, reaching back to him, your hand tangling in his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed and sucked at the soft, tender flesh, his groans vibrating against you. His hands moved, exploring your body, fingers tracing your stomach before gripping your hips once again, pulling you back onto him with an almost desperate need.

His body, slick and hot against yours, felt like fire against your skin, grounding you in a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. The rain poured down relentlessly, drumming on the rooftop, mingling with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together. The cool rainwater was a stark contrast to the heat between you, soaking your clothes until they clung to your form, heavy and almost suffocating, making you feel raw and exposed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color through the sheets of rain, casting glimmers of neon pink, blue, and gold onto your slick skin, but none of it mattered. The only thing real was him—the way he touched you, how his body melded with yours in a primal, unyielding rhythm.

"I love you so much," Michael's voice was hoarse against your ear, a whispered confession as his hand slid slowly up your stomach, lingering over the curve of your ribs before settling around your neck. His fingers pressed lightly at first, just enough for you to feel the power behind them, the possessiveness in his grip.

Your moan was soft, barely audible over the storm, but the intensity behind it told him everything he needed to know. Rain fell on your lashes, blurring the city skyline before you, but Michael was crystal clear, his hair plastered to his face, strands falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with unrelenting focus. His clothes, soaked through, stuck to your bare skin, creating a friction that heightened the raw sensuality of the moment, every slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing through the rain-soaked air. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body on the brink, but something inside you held back, not ready to let go just yet.

"More, Michael, more," you begged, your voice strained, teetering on the edge of desperation as his grip around your throat tightened. You needed it—craved it.

"You beg so beautifully, princess," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. The low, teasing tone of his voice only fueled the fire building inside of you.

You matched his rhythm, your hips thrusting back against him, falling into perfect sync with each heavy movement. The thunder roared in the distance, splitting the sky with a flash of lightning that illuminated the dark terrace in a blinding burst of white. For a second, everything was bathed in light, and you both looked up, mesmerized by the storm's fury before your eyes met again, the tension between you more electric than the storm itself. Michael's grip tightened, pulling you closer, his lips wet from the rain as they crashed into yours, the kiss raw and hungry. You moaned into his mouth, the deep, throaty sound vibrating between your lips as your bodies moved together in perfect, frantic harmony. His tongue danced with yours, every brush sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body, as the storm outside raged on.

Your core burned with an unbearable need for release, and Michael, always in tune with you, knew exactly how close you were. His angle shifted just slightly, but it was enough. His length hit that perfect spot inside you, over and over again, until your legs trembled and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. You kicked off your heels, your bare feet pressing into the slick, wet concrete as you finally let go, the release building inside you until it burst free like a wildfire.

Your moans were muffled against his lips as your body convulsed, trembling with the force of your orgasm, your release coating his length, warm and slick, down to the base. Michael wasn't far behind. You could feel him, his thighs twitching, his body tensing as he gripped your neck even tighter, pushing himself deeper, harder, with one final thrust that sent him over the edge. His release was hot, spilling deep inside you, filling you completely as he groaned into your neck. He continued thrusting through the aftershocks, his body shuddering as he milked every last drop of his release, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

As your bodies stilled, you pulled away from the kiss, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain drenched your faces, dripping from your hair and mingling with the sweat on your skin. "I love you..." you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to stop, Michael."

"I don't either, baby," he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours, his need for you still burning as he kissed you again. His hips moved faster, harder, sending you spiraling into a second climax. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping the railing so hard your nails dug into the metal, while the other hand clawed at his rain-soaked skin.

Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto your lips as your moans caught in your throat. "Let it out, baby," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." His hand came down across your face, a sharp, stinging slap that sent your moans spilling out into the rain, echoing through the night as the storm roared around you.

He started to slow his pace, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, savoring every last moment before he finally pulled out, watching as your combined essence dripped down your inner thighs, glistening in the faint glow of the city lights.

Michael stepped back, his chest heaving as he watched you lean heavily against the railing, your body spent, trembling with exhaustion. He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair, his clothes clinging to him as the rain fell harder, turning into tiny pellets that stung against his skin. Without a word, he moved closer, scooping you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Grabbing your heels with his free hand, he turned and sprinted back into the suite, away from the storm.

The door clicked shut behind you both, locking out the chaos of the night as he set your shoes aside and bolted the door. The world outside was a distant roar now, muffled by the thick glass, but the tension still lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He carried you down the hall, your bodies dripping rainwater onto the polished wooden floors as he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the soft, warm lights.

Without a word, Michael gently set you down on the cool marble counter, his eyes scanning your shivering, trembling body for a moment before he turned and walked over to the bathtub. He turned on the water, watching as steam rose from the tub before adding bubbles, the scent of lavender filling the air, calming and soothing. His wet clothes hit the floor in a heap as he stripped down, leaving him bare and beautiful, every muscle defined and gleaming under the light.

He moved back to you, his hands steady as he helped you off the counter and guided you into the warm, inviting water. You sank into the bubbles with a sigh, feeling the heat soothe your aching muscles as Michael slid in behind you, pulling your body against his chest. The water rose around you, covering you both up to your chests, the warmth wrapping around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from the storm still raging outside.

As Michael settled behind you in the bath, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest. His body was a fortress of warmth and strength, a stark contrast to the cool storm still raging outside the windows. The water lapped gently at your skin, the bubbles clinging to your damp hair as you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but it held a trace of concern. His hands traced slow circles on your stomach, soothing the trembling that still lingered in your body.

"More than okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That was... I can't even describe it."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back. "Yeah? You took everything I gave you like the perfect little princess you are." His lips brushed against your temple, and you could feel the pride in his tone, mingled with a possessiveness that made your heart race all over again.

Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of the bath, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine despite the heat. "I love it when you call me that," you murmured, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Makes me feel like I'm yours."

He chuckled again, this time deeper, more primal. "You are mine, princess. You know that." His grip tightened around you, his hands moving slowly up your torso until one hand rested on your chest, the other trailing back to your neck. He held you there, not tightly, but with enough pressure to remind you who was in control. "I never want you to forget it."

"I won't," you promised, your voice a little breathless now as his fingers brushed over your skin, teasing you despite the calm of the bath.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the rain outside now distant, a faint backdrop to the quiet intimacy you shared. His hand dipped back down to your waist, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip under the water, making your breath hitch.

"Tell me," Michael said after a long pause, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want right now."

You bit your lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your eyes half-closed. The feel of his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin was driving you insane. "I just want more of you," you whispered. "I don't want tonight to end."

His lips grazed your ear, a teasing warmth that sent a wave of heat flooding your body again. "More of me?" he murmured, his voice dark with amusement. "Didn't I just give you all of me out there in the rain?"

You smiled lazily, your body relaxing more against his. "You know it's never enough with you, Michael. I could drown in you and still want more."

He let out a low growl, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Damn, baby, you're making it hard for me to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," you teased, turning your head just enough so you could meet his gaze, your lips brushing his as you spoke. "I don't want you to hold back."

Michael's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand sliding back up to your throat, this time gripping a little tighter. "Careful what you wish for, princess."

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," you whispered, daring him with a playful smile.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy against your cheek. Then, without warning, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like he needed to claim you all over again.

You moaned into his mouth, the heat between you reigniting in an instant, the warmth of the bath doing little to quell the fire sparking between your bodies. His hand stayed firm on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, while his other hand wandered under the water, teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"Michael..." you gasped between kisses, your hands reaching behind you to grip his thighs as you arched against him. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to murmur the words against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside me again," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you under the water. "You're so greedy, baby," he growled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But that's okay. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Before you could respond, Michael's hand slid between your thighs, the warmth of the water only intensifying the sudden jolt of pleasure. His touch was deliberate, confident, parting your legs as he pulled you into his lap. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him press against you, the anticipation building with every passing second. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushed inside you, the water rippling in response to the agonizing slowness of his movements.

"Is this what you wanted, princess?" he whispered, his voice husky as his lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His words hung heavy in the steamy air, a dark promise wrapped in desire. "Is this what you've been begging for?"

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your head falling back to rest against his broad shoulder. The world seemed to melt away as your body trembled beneath his touch, completely at his mercy. "More... don't stop..."

His hands tightened around your waist, a possessive grip as he began to move within you. The pace was deliberate, slow, but unyielding—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The soft splash of water echoed in the quiet, mingling with your breathless gasps, creating a rhythm only the two of you shared. Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing through the windows, but it felt distant, as if nothing else existed except this—the closeness, the intensity, the moment.

Michael's lips found your temple, brushing softly against your skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words like a vow sealed between you. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

Your moan was a soft, involuntary response, your fingers digging into his thighs, grounding you as you surrendered to him completely. The steady, unrelenting rhythm of his body against yours filled your senses, each movement an intoxicating blend of pleasure and intimacy. "I love you too," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

The night stretched on, the storm outside now a faint hum in the background as you and Michael moved together like two wild creatures, lost in your own world. His touch was insistent, his need palpable, and you gave in to every moment, every sensation, as he released his pent-up stress and you reveled in the pleasure that consumed you both. Time blurred, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—wanted, loved, and utterly alive.

With a sigh, you gripped the remote and turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise from the main room. The television blared, but it was barely a match for the music and the sharp edge in Michael's tone as he barked out instructions to the dancers. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the way it cracked like a whip through the air.

Suddenly, the music cut off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet before Michael slipped inside. His usually well-kept curls were in disarray, his tie hung loose around his neck, and one of his sleeves was still buttoned as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you.

"Can you turn that down, please?" His voice was strained, almost pleading, but it held a firmness that warned against defiance.

You didn't say anything, just reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the room now thick with unspoken tension.

"Thank you," Michael murmured before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a reminder of the growing distance between you.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the way he'd been acting gnawing at you. You were done tiptoeing around him. Without hesitation, you clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside, throwing the covers back with a decisive flick. As you rose, your reflection caught your eye in the mirror, the black satin of your nightgown clinging to every curve, a silent testament to the power you still held over him.

You reached up, fingers brushing through your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders in a soft cascade. With one last glance in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door, the music immediately assaulting your senses once more.

Your footsteps were muffled against the plush cream-colored carpet as you made your way down the hall. When you reached the main room, your bare feet met the cool surface of the hardwood floor, grounding you as you took in the scene before you. Michael was in the middle of the room, his movements sharp and precise as he demonstrated choreography to Jeffery and Gregg. But the moment you entered, their focus shifted, eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and something far less innocent.

"Damn, Mrs. J," Jeffery muttered, his voice dripping with appreciation.

Gregg let out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, instantly drawing Michael's attention.

His gaze snapped to you, narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Baby, what are you doing out here dressed like that? Go back to the room," he commanded, his tone a mix of protective concern and simmering irritation.

Ignoring his words, you sauntered across the room, feeling the weight of their stares on you. You sank into the plush sofa, crossing your legs slowly, the satin of your gown shifting with the movement. "I just came to watch," you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's not like I'll be a distraction."

Michael's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his composure. He looked away from you, a storm brewing in his dark eyes as he clapped his hands together sharply, drawing the others' attention back to him. "We don't have all night," he snapped, his voice a dangerous edge. "Let's get to work, and quit eyeing my wife."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, their tones subdued, though you could still feel their lingering gazes.

As the music surged back to life, you leaned deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, savoring the heat that curled in your chest. The satisfaction of knowing you had his attention, the way his eyes flickered back to you despite his attempts to stay focused, sent a thrill through you. You weren't about to let that go—not tonight.

Your gaze followed his every move, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. The way his hips swayed in time with the beat, the sharpness of his spins, the precise snap of his fingers—it all spoke of control, discipline, and a deep, simmering passion. But there was also a wildness to him tonight, the way his half-untucked shirt clung to his torso, how the damp air clung to his curls, making them even wilder. Despite the chill of a November night in New York, the heat in the room was palpable, a testament to the intensity with which he worked.

Michael turned to speak to the dancers, his voice authoritative, though his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary before he forced himself to look away.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that curled your lips as you slid your feet up onto the couch, reclining in a way that accentuated the curve of your body. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let one of the straps of your satin nightgown slip down your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. The moment it fell, his attention snapped back to you, the frustration clear in the tight line of his mouth. You winked at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenched in response. He was trying to maintain his composure, especially in front of his colleagues, but you knew you were getting to him.

Determined to keep the game going, you called his name, your voice a sultry purr that sliced through the music. "Michael..."

He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with exasperation and something darker as he turned to face you. "Yes, doll?" he asked, his tone betraying a careful restraint.

"I'm thirsty," you said, your voice laced with innocent mischief. "Could you get me a glass of juice?"

Michael's eyes darkened, a silent warning that you were treading on thin ice. "You two keep working. I'll be back," he told the dancers, his voice clipped as he walked off toward the kitchenette. The sharp sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut punctuated the tension in the air.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine—a mix of anger and desire burning beneath the surface. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. "Here," he said, the word barely more than a growl.

You looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you accepted the juice. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, your tone sweet and saccharine.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Keep going, and I won't be nice after I'm finished rehearsing." His hand cupped your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You held his stare, your smile widening as you felt a delicious thrill run through you. "I'd like that," you replied with a soft chuckle, your voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver visibly ran through him, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he sighed deeply, releasing your chin and pulling back. Without another word, he returned to the dancers, his movements sharp and deliberate, though there was a new tension in his body. You could tell you were getting to him, unraveling that tight control he always prided himself on.

As you sipped your orange juice, your eyes locked onto Michael, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Every move he made was laced with tension, his body more charged, more deliberate, as if he was trying to shake off the effect you had on him. But you knew better. No amount of rehearsing could quell the fire you'd ignited tonight. The game was on, and it was clear you were winning.

When Michael finally wrapped up the rehearsal, he escorted the dancers to the door, his demeanor calm and composed, though you could sense the storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. He watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator, his eyes following them until the doors closed. The click of the lock echoed through the suite as he secured the door for the night.

He turned back to you, leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. The tension in his posture was palpable, yet his voice was deceptively calm as he crooked a finger, beckoning you over. "Come here."

You took your time, savoring the last sip of your juice before setting the glass down on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it on the wood. You stood and walked over to him, your eyes never leaving his, the distance between you closing with each step until you were just a breath away.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice soft, almost innocent, though the challenge in your eyes was anything but.

Michael's gaze traveled slowly down your body, then back up to meet your eyes. "What were you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low, simmering with restrained frustration.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean? I just came in to watch."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in his expression. "Dressed like this? In your nightgown?" His voice was sharp, each word edged with the accusation you knew he was holding back.

You met his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin. "It's late at night, Michael. What do you expect? You should have rehearsed earlier instead of the ass-crack of midnight," you shot back, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Michael's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Watch your damn mouth," he hissed, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

You shrugged again, your expression daring him to make good on his warning. "You gonna make me?" you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "You've been doing all this talk, but where's the action? Saying you're going to do this to me, do that to me, but where's all the follow-through? Hmm?"

Michael's eyes darkened further, his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface as he bit the inside of his cheek, a vain attempt to rein in the storm brewing within him. The fire in his gaze told you that you were pushing him, maybe even further than he could handle. The tension between you was almost unbearable, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment. His restraint was admirable, but you could see it fraying, and it was only a matter of time before it unraveled completely, releasing something far more intense.

"What?" you taunted, your voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're just going to stand there and look at me like that? Fine, I'll just go to bed then." You turned on your heel, making a move to leave, but Michael's hand shot out, his grip firm as he pulled you back, your body colliding with his. The heat of his frustration and desire radiated off him in waves, and for a moment, all you could feel was the intense thrum of his heartbeat against your own.

"What's your issue?" he demanded, his voice low, gravelly, tinged with the barely restrained anger that you'd stirred up in him.

You met his gaze, your expression unyielding, even as your pulse quickened under his touch. "What's your issue?" you countered, raising a brow, your tone defiant.

Michael's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your arm just enough to make you gasp. "Stop acting like this," he growled, his voice laced with a warning that you were all too eager to ignore.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, your eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. The smirk on your lips was enough to push him even closer to the edge, and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes—the battle between his desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in.

For a moment, Michael just stared at you, his eyes raking over your form as if undressing you with his gaze alone. He licked his lips, his frustration giving way to something darker, something more primal. He released his grip on your arm, but before you could step back, his voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

A smile curled on your lips as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, the anticipation thrumming in your veins. Michael reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive tenderness. "Open your mouth," he whispered, his voice a dark promise of what was to come.

You obeyed, parting your lips for him, your gaze locked onto his as you looked up, awaiting his next move. Slowly, deliberately, he eased his four fingers into your mouth, his other hand cradling the back of your head as he pushed them deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers making your eyes water as you fought to accommodate him.

"You're going to stop teasing me, right?" he murmured, his voice dark and laced with a dangerous edge. "Stop acting up when I'm working? Because that's what you seem to keep doing."

The weight of his fingers in your mouth made it difficult to respond, but you nodded as best you could, your eyes watering further as he pulled your head up slightly, forcing you to gag on his fingers. The involuntary reaction sent a shudder through your body, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, his voice sharp as he applied just a bit more pressure.

You nodded again, the movement constrained by the tight grip he had on you.

"Will you stop?" he pressed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded once more, your eyes pleading, though the defiant spark hadn't entirely left them. Michael smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he watched you, the power dynamic between you crystal clear.

"I don't know if I believe you," he murmured, his voice thick with suspicion and a hint of amusement.

A whimper escaped your throat, your eyes wide and filled with pleading as you gazed up at him, desperate for some form of release, though you knew you were far from done playing this game. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of your actions bearing down on you, the consequences of your teasing unfolding in real-time. The smirk on his lips only grew, and you knew that you were in for exactly what you had been provoking all night.

Michael's gaze darkened further, his breath catching as he felt the tension between you both mounting. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound, every movement magnified in the charged atmosphere you'd both created. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips in a gentle caress that belied the intensity burning in his eyes. He tapped the side of your face lightly, and you obediently closed your mouth, the teasing smile still playing at the corners of your lips as you held his gaze.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice stern, commanding.

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared him down, the flames of desire flickering between you, growing hotter with each passing second. Michael advanced on you, his presence overwhelming, forcing you to retreat step by step until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. You fell back, your eyes never leaving his as he loomed over you, his expression unreadable, a mix of controlled fury and unspoken need.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated only for a moment, letting the tension stretch before you reached up and slowly pulled down the straps of your nightgown, your eyes locked on his as you revealed yourself to him. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your waist before you let it drop completely, leaving you bare before him. The warmth of the room caressed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Michael's gaze as he devoured every inch of you with his eyes.

Michael stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he loosened his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. But before it could settle, you grabbed it, wrapping it around your neck with a playful grin, holding the ends in your hands as you looked up at him through your lashes. "What are you going to do to me?" you asked, your voice a sultry whisper as you spread your legs, inviting him in.

Michael's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of you before returning to your face. He moved in, standing between your legs, his large hand cupping your face, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him. The raw power he held over you was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he raised a brow, challenging you to push him further.

Your hand trailed up his thigh, brushing over his growing erection, feeling the heat radiating through his slacks. He groaned at your touch, his jaw tightening as you gave him a teasing squeeze. "You've been stressed," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of sympathy and seduction, knowing full well the effect you were having on him.

Michael's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident in the way his breath hitched. "I know I have. I've been busy working," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control.

You leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper as you teased, "Lose the stress." Then, without warning, you turned around on the sofa, presenting yourself to him on all fours, your back arched provocatively. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

Michael's control snapped. He moved in, pressing his body against yours, his arousal grinding into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling you back into him. He started to dry thrust against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his other hand settled on the small of your back, holding you in place. "I will," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "But you've been teasing me, and I think it's time for me to tease back."

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, each one pushing you closer to the edge as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs, soaking through his slacks. The pressure of his bulge against your bare core was maddening, heightening your need with every movement, but he held back, refusing to give you the release you craved.

"You don't like when I tease you, do you?" he asked, his voice laced with a dark amusement, enjoying the power he held over you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of his touch, the heat of his fingers searing a path down your spine. "I do," you panted, the words coming out breathy, laced with the challenge you knew he couldn't resist. Glancing back at him, your eyes burned with a fiery determination, a silent dare that you knew would ignite something uncontrollable in him. The moment your words left your lips, you saw it—the final shred of restraint in his gaze snapping, his pupils darkening to pools of raw desire. His body, taut and coiled like a predator ready to strike, trembled with the need to claim you, to make you his in a way that left no room for doubt.

Michael's grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you back against his chest, the heat of his body searing into your skin. The press of his solid form against your back made your breath hitch, the raw power in his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm and teasing as it ghosted over the sensitive skin. "Keep playing with me," he growled low, the words a heated promise that made your knees weak, "and you'll get exactly what you're asking for." The threat in his voice was underscored by the flick of his tongue, tracing a tantalizing path up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you whimper.

"Stop teasing..." you whimpered, the words slipping out involuntarily as you leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

His hand moved lower, the pads of his fingers brushing over the slick folds of your core, a featherlight touch that had your body arching into him, silently begging for more. "Payback, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver straight to your core. "Can't I have a little fun too? After all, you came out here dressed in something only I should see." His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, the fleeting contact making you gasp before he pulled away, leaving you trembling and aching for more.

"Michael, please..." The plea left your lips in a breathless rush, the need coursing through your veins becoming unbearable.

In response, Michael's mouth found your neck, his lips brushing against your skin before sinking in to leave a heated, wet trail that burned with every touch. His hand traveled back up your body, his touch deliberate, almost possessive, until he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your hardened nipple. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his grip made your head spin, your body aching with the intensity of your desire.

His kisses grew more urgent, a mix of soft and rough that left your skin tingling, the wet spots he left behind a mark of his claim. You could feel his teeth graze against your flesh, adding to the delicious torment, each kiss fanning the flames of the fire he had ignited within you.

"Where do you want to do this?" Michael whispered against your ear, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to take you right here, on the floor, in the bedroom... or should we go out on the balcony?" His breath hitched as he nipped at your earlobe, "I'll have you screaming my name all over this city. Let them know just how good I can please my wife."

A needy moan escaped your lips, the thought of being at his mercy in the open air, the night sky above and the city below, sent a thrill through you. "I don't care," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I just want you."

Michael released his grip on your hair and breast, stepping back slightly as he commanded, "Stay here." The absence of his touch left you whimpering, your body yearning for more.

You watched as he strode over to the balcony door, the anticipation building in your chest. With a swift motion, he slid the door open, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the heat of the room. The wind blew through his hair as he stepped out, surveying the city below. He turned back to you, his eyes dark and filled with intent. "Come here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You stood, your legs trembling as you walked over to him, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, sending another shiver down your spine. Michael's gaze lingered on you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed body. He turned his head, glancing over to the piano, where your heels rested. With a calculated step, he walked over and grabbed them, bringing them back to you. "Put these on," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want your feet getting messed up."

You slipped on the heels, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of your skin, your body bare except for the tie still draped around your neck. "Michael, it's cold out there..." you said, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension as you looked out onto the balcony.

Michael shrugged, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and desire. "I don't care," he said, his voice unwavering.

"But Michael, it's—" Your protest was cut off as his hand wrapped around your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you close, the sudden pressure sending a shock of arousal through your body. "I don't care," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Either you let me fuck you on this balcony, or you're not getting anything."

You nodded quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you breathed out, "Yes, Michael..."

With a satisfied smirk, Michael released his hold on you, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you walk outside onto the balcony. The cool air nipped at your skin, but the heat of your desire burned hotter, pushing away any discomfort. You dropped to your knees before him, the hard surface of the balcony pressing into your skin as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of need and anticipation.

Michael moved closer, his eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity that made the world around you seem to vanish. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a faint glow across the balcony, but all you could focus on was him—the way his body radiated heat, the way his breath hitched as you roamed your hands up his clothed thighs.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with anticipation as your fingers traced over the fabric of his slacks, feeling the heat of him beneath.

His response was silent, a slow, deliberate nod. His hand found the top of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a tender, almost possessive caress. His eyes never left yours, dark and heavy with desire, as he watched you undo his slacks, the tension between you building with every second. You pulled the fabric down just enough to reveal the strained bulge behind his linen briefs, the outline of him achingly clear.

Your hand slipped inside, wrapping around his hard, throbbing length. The moment you touched him, you could feel the heat, the pulsing veins that ran along his shaft, each one a testament to the hunger coursing through him. His tip, swollen and slick with precum, glistened in the low light as you pulled him free, the thick skin taut over his aching need.

Michael's hand rested atop yours, guiding your movements as the two of you stroked him in unison. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the tension in his body palpable as you flicked your tongue out, teasing the sensitive tip. The taste of him was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made your body hum with anticipation.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, savoring the taste as you ran your tongue over the bead of precum that lingered on his tip. "You taste good," you murmured, your lips curling into a playful smile as you bit your bottom lip, your gaze locked onto his.

Michael smirked in response, his thumb brushing gently over your lip before watching it fall back into place. "Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As you both continued to stroke him, his length grew harder, the tension in his body intensifying with each movement. You could feel him throb in your hands, the need in him rising as you lowered your head and flicked your tongue around his tip, tasting every bit of him. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, sucking lightly at first, teasing him with the soft press of your lips as your tongue swirled around his length.

His hand tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm pressure as he watched you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The lights from the city bathed his face in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the raw hunger in his eyes. "Just like that, baby," he praised, his voice husky, strained with the effort of keeping control. "You're doing so good."

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, spurring you on as you took him deeper, your mouth stretching around him as you began to bob your head, taking him further with each pass. The feeling of his hard length sliding over your tongue, the way he pulsed in your mouth, filled you with a heady sense of power.

Michael's hands slid to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he let you take control, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Your lips moved down, inch by inch, until you had taken him to the base, your mouth full of him as your tongue traced the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his shaft. You could feel the way his body reacted, the way he shuddered with pleasure as you pulled back, sucking hard on his sensitive tip before plunging down again.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he watched you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. The raw power of his desire sent waves of heat through you, your own body aching for him as you continued to suck him, each movement drawing him closer to the edge.

You felt him throb in your mouth, his body tensing as he neared the brink, but he didn't let go—his hands guiding you, his hips thrusting ever so slightly as you worked him deeper and deeper, your mouth and tongue driving him wild with every flick and swirl. The balcony seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the quiet sounds of the city nothing compared to the heat that crackled between you.

The taste of him, the way he filled your mouth, was overwhelming, pushing you to give him everything, to bring him to the peak and feel him unravel completely in your hands—and in your mouth.

Michael's grip tightened on your head, fingers threading through your hair as he thrust harder, the slick sound of your saliva filling the air as it dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. Each stroke of his hips was forceful, deliberate, pushing deeper into your mouth until you could feel his tip grazing the back of your throat with every movement. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you gagged lightly, the sensation sending shivers through your body as you held onto his thighs for balance.

"Good girl," Michael groaned, his voice low and thick with pleasure as he watched you take him, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva glistening on your skin. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tightening around him as he thrust even harder, his pace quickening. The heat between you was unbearable, the tension building as he moved faster, his length driving deeper into your mouth, your body trembling from the intensity of it. You gagged again, the sound muffled around him as he pulled out slightly, only to ram himself back into your throat with even more force.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the pleasure. You let your jaw go slack, relaxing your throat as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely, letting him use you.

Tears welled in your eyes, the pressure building as he moved with a desperate urgency, his hips bucking against your face, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands. You gazed up at him, your eyes watery, cheeks flushed, feeling every pulse, every throb of his cock as he neared his climax.

A heavy groan ripped from his throat, his body trembling as his grip tightened on your hair. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, thrusting deep one final time, his cock buried in your throat as he released, the warmth of his seed filling your mouth in thick, hot spurts.

"Just like that, baby. Take it all," he whispered, his voice ragged with pleasure. You swallowed, your throat working around him as you took every last drop, your body shuddering with the effort as you didn't waste a single bit.

As he slowly pulled out, his breathing still heavy, he reached down and wiped your lips, his thumb brushing over your chin. Without a word, he eased his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck the last remnants from his skin, the taste lingering on your tongue as you gazed up at him, your lips still parted.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slid it between his own lips, sucking it clean with a satisfied groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now get up," he said, his eyes flashing with renewed hunger. "I'm not done with you yet."

Michael pulled you to your feet with a fluid motion, pressing you tightly against him, your chest flush against his. His hands roamed down your waist, gripping you possessively as he gazed over your body. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm as his eyes devoured every inch of you before meeting your gaze, the heat between you palpable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need, as you reached up to gently brush a stray curl from his face.

A slow smile curled on his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek before he leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "I love you more," he murmured, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But bend over for me," he added, loosening his grip on your waist. "I told you I'm not done."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you walked to the edge of the balcony, your heels clicking against the cool concrete beneath you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against your skin as you bent over, your chest pressing into the thick, stone railing. Michael's footsteps echoed behind you, and the warmth of his presence filled the space as he came to stand behind you.

You wiggled your hips, teasing him, feeling his gaze burn into you. "You're such a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

"I know," you replied, casting a coy glance over your shoulder. "I like what I do."

A low chuckle rumbled from him as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "I can't stand you," he murmured, though the affection in his voice betrayed his words.

"Neither can I," you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Michael dropped to his knees behind you, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed over your folds, and you shivered in anticipation. "Wider," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You obediently spread your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands roamed over the back of your thighs, warm and rough, before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

"Oh, Michael," you moaned, your voice trembling as you arched against the railing. His tongue danced over your sensitive clit, teasing and flicking, before he wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly. The world outside seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, his mouth working magic against you.

His hum of approval vibrated against you, and you gasped as his tongue slid inside you, sending a shock of pleasure through your core. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the railing, your head falling back as you moaned into the cool night air, the sound echoing into the darkness.

Michael's hands gripped your behind, kneading the flesh before bringing one hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the night. "Fuck, Michael!" you cried out, the sting of his palm intensifying the pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers slid inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping slowly, each stroke deliberate as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, standing up behind you, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling under his touch. The lights from the city reflected off the balcony, casting a soft glow across your face as you felt him press closer, his presence overwhelming.

Michael leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, your moans vibrating against his mouth. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own essence, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin. His free hand roamed up your back, fingers curling around the tie still hanging loosely from your neck.

With a firm pull, he tightened the tie just enough to pull you back against him, the pressure making your breath hitch. "Fuck..." you breathed, the heat between your bodies reaching a fever pitch.

"You can take it, princess," he murmured against your ear, his fingers inside you now moving faster, thrusting with a relentless pace. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity.

"Michael, I'm close..." you moaned, your voice desperate, pleading as your body ached for release.

"Just a little longer, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm almost done."

You whined, your entire body shaking as you gripped the railing tighter, your legs quivering from the strain. The pressure was building, overwhelming, and you felt yourself on the edge, begging for that final push over. "Michael, please..."

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your waist as you tossed an arm back, wrapping it around his neck, your body desperate for more contact. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "This is what you wanted, right?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a final thrust of his fingers, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body convulsing as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Michael held you firmly in his grasp, his strong arms anchoring you to him as your legs gave out beneath you. Your trembling body shuddered violently in his embrace, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you struggled to remain standing. His grip was unyielding, his hands tight around your waist, ensuring you didn't fall apart completely as the overwhelming waves of pleasure continued to crash through you.

"Michael, please," you gasped, your voice cracking with the weight of your release. "I can't hold it any longer..."

His lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath making you weak all over again. "Let go," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a hunger that sent another shiver down your spine.

At his command, the last bit of tension within you unraveled like a taut string finally snapping. Your release rushed forward with an intensity that felt almost magical—like a spell, impossible to resist, cast upon you by the one man who knew your body better than anyone else. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing into the night as your release dripped down your thighs and his hand, soaking his fingers.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, the warmth of his breath adding to the fire that still burned inside you. His voice was a smooth murmur, soothing and encouraging. "Let it all out for me."

Your legs shook uncontrollably, your knees buckling as the overwhelming pleasure took control of every muscle in your body. "M-Michael," you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you gasped for breath. "I-I can't take it..."

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending vibrations through you. "You can," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you aching and empty. "And you will."

Your body trembled as he lightly pushed you forward, guiding you to bend over the balcony railing. The cool air hit your flushed skin, contrasting with the burning heat between your legs. His hand moved to the back of your neck, gripping it with firm but gentle authority. You whimpered softly as he released your neck, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

Every touch, every caress, felt electric, and the anticipation that followed each gesture made your body ache with need. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch with a fire that only he could ignite—a fire that would only be quenched by him.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, his voice a low whisper in your ear. "You want more, baby?" he asked, his words dripping with sensuality. "Because I can go all night... and you know this."

You nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to form words. "Y-Yes, Michael..." you whimpered, your body trembling with desire, desperate for him to fill the void he had created.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood back up, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Whatever my baby wants, she gets."

His hand wrapped around his hardened length, and you couldn't help but watch over your shoulder as he brushed the swollen, glistening tip against your soaked folds. The teasing, the slight pressure of his tip pushing just inside before retreating again, drove you mad with need.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need you... Please."

His smirk widened as he teased you again, pushing just the tip in before pulling out, keeping you on the edge, building the tension inside you once more. "I know, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with control and desire. "And you're gonna get exactly what you need."

Michael's smirk deepened as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for more, for all of him. The teasing had driven you to the edge, and now the burn of anticipation was almost unbearable. His eyes were dark and intense, his gaze locked onto yours as he let a slow drop of saliva fall onto his shaft, the slickness adding to the heat between you. "Be patient," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, making your breath hitch.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling as you felt him slowly start to press into you. Inch by inch, his thickness stretched you, filling you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness making you gasp as your walls squeezed around him, struggling to accommodate his size. Your body responded instantly, your muscles tensing as you moaned out, the sound raw and desperate.

He pushed deeper, each inch filling you further, until he was buried to the hilt, his length pulsing inside of you. "Damn..." Michael breathed, his voice rough with arousal. The sight of your bodies connected, his thick shaft disappearing into your slick heat, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight grip of your walls around him, his breath coming in heavy pants.

You tried to reach back, your fingers brushing his skin in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but Michael quickly caught your hand. His grip was firm, his eyes narrowing as he placed your hand back on the railing. "Move your hand," he ordered, his tone firm but laced with heat. "I'll move when I know you're ready."

His words sent a shiver through you, the tension building again as your body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just enough to make you feel the loss before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. His hands were everywhere—possessive, demanding, claiming every inch of your body as his. Each touch sent sparks of electricity down your spine, the sensation of his rough palms on your skin intoxicating.

Michael's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he adjusted your position, arching your back even further, opening you up for him completely. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at where your bodies met. The sight of your slick arousal coating his length drove him wild, a primal need taking over as he watched your body respond to him so perfectly.

Every inch of your body drove him wild, but it wasn't just that—it was the entirety of who you were that unraveled him. The tenderness in your touch, how your fingers would skim over his skin as if you knew just where he needed to be soothed. The way your lips found his, so soft and searching in moments of quiet, whispered love. And the way you looked at him—like he was your world, like nothing else mattered. Those moments had stitched themselves into his heart, every tiny piece of you becoming a part of him, and now, as he moved within you, he poured all that he felt into each thrust, a rhythm woven with emotion.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice trembling with want, "I want it all, stop being so soft."

His grip tightened on your waist, rough hands securing your body as he slowly slid out, teasing you with a deliberate slowness before driving back in with a powerful, unrestrained thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Each thrust was forceful, his body pushing deep inside you until it felt like he was touching the very core of your being. Your legs trembled, and you instinctively reached back to grasp him, needing that connection, but he was quicker. His hand clamped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, owning you in that moment.

"Michael, I—" you whimpered, but your words faltered, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Use your words, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I can't hear you."

"I can't take it," you managed to gasp, pleading, your breath hitching with every thrust.

His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as his thrusts grew more intense, each one a deep, visceral pulse. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, lips grazing your neck as he whispered, "Yes, you can, baby. You can always take it."

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you, and you moaned, needing more, craving the fullness of him. The wind had picked up, stirring the night air, and raindrops began to fall, light at first, a gentle mist that kissed your skin. But then the sky opened up, drenching you both as the storm unleashed itself, the cool water cascading down your bodies. The rain slicked your skin, making every touch, every thrust feel even more electric, the friction replaced with a primal urgency. But Michael didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop—not until he was done.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he groaned, his voice deep and raw. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer as his hips slammed into you harder and deeper, the tip of him grazing against your cervix with every forceful motion. Your moans turned to desperate cries, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, your body shaking as his name ripped from your throat, the sound lost in the symphony of pouring rain.

The lights from the hotel and the city around you cast a shimmering glow through the rain, painting the night in streaks of gold and silver, the wet pavement gleaming beneath your feet. It was surreal, like the world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of you in that storm.

"Michael, don't stop," you begged, your voice barely audible over the pounding rain, reaching back to him, your hand tangling in his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed and sucked at the soft, tender flesh, his groans vibrating against you. His hands moved, exploring your body, fingers tracing your stomach before gripping your hips once again, pulling you back onto him with an almost desperate need.

His body, slick and hot against yours, felt like fire against your skin, grounding you in a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. The rain poured down relentlessly, drumming on the rooftop, mingling with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together. The cool rainwater was a stark contrast to the heat between you, soaking your clothes until they clung to your form, heavy and almost suffocating, making you feel raw and exposed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color through the sheets of rain, casting glimmers of neon pink, blue, and gold onto your slick skin, but none of it mattered. The only thing real was him—the way he touched you, how his body melded with yours in a primal, unyielding rhythm.

"I love you so much," Michael's voice was hoarse against your ear, a whispered confession as his hand slid slowly up your stomach, lingering over the curve of your ribs before settling around your neck. His fingers pressed lightly at first, just enough for you to feel the power behind them, the possessiveness in his grip.

Your moan was soft, barely audible over the storm, but the intensity behind it told him everything he needed to know. Rain fell on your lashes, blurring the city skyline before you, but Michael was crystal clear, his hair plastered to his face, strands falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with unrelenting focus. His clothes, soaked through, stuck to your bare skin, creating a friction that heightened the raw sensuality of the moment, every slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing through the rain-soaked air. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body on the brink, but something inside you held back, not ready to let go just yet.

"More, Michael, more," you begged, your voice strained, teetering on the edge of desperation as his grip around your throat tightened. You needed it—craved it.

"You beg so beautifully, princess," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. The low, teasing tone of his voice only fueled the fire building inside of you.

You matched his rhythm, your hips thrusting back against him, falling into perfect sync with each heavy movement. The thunder roared in the distance, splitting the sky with a flash of lightning that illuminated the dark terrace in a blinding burst of white. For a second, everything was bathed in light, and you both looked up, mesmerized by the storm's fury before your eyes met again, the tension between you more electric than the storm itself. Michael's grip tightened, pulling you closer, his lips wet from the rain as they crashed into yours, the kiss raw and hungry. You moaned into his mouth, the deep, throaty sound vibrating between your lips as your bodies moved together in perfect, frantic harmony. His tongue danced with yours, every brush sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body, as the storm outside raged on.

Your core burned with an unbearable need for release, and Michael, always in tune with you, knew exactly how close you were. His angle shifted just slightly, but it was enough. His length hit that perfect spot inside you, over and over again, until your legs trembled and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. You kicked off your heels, your bare feet pressing into the slick, wet concrete as you finally let go, the release building inside you until it burst free like a wildfire.

Your moans were muffled against his lips as your body convulsed, trembling with the force of your orgasm, your release coating his length, warm and slick, down to the base. Michael wasn't far behind. You could feel him, his thighs twitching, his body tensing as he gripped your neck even tighter, pushing himself deeper, harder, with one final thrust that sent him over the edge. His release was hot, spilling deep inside you, filling you completely as he groaned into your neck. He continued thrusting through the aftershocks, his body shuddering as he milked every last drop of his release, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

As your bodies stilled, you pulled away from the kiss, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain drenched your faces, dripping from your hair and mingling with the sweat on your skin. "I love you..." you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to stop, Michael."

"I don't either, baby," he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours, his need for you still burning as he kissed you again. His hips moved faster, harder, sending you spiraling into a second climax. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping the railing so hard your nails dug into the metal, while the other hand clawed at his rain-soaked skin.

Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto your lips as your moans caught in your throat. "Let it out, baby," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." His hand came down across your face, a sharp, stinging slap that sent your moans spilling out into the rain, echoing through the night as the storm roared around you.

He started to slow his pace, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, savoring every last moment before he finally pulled out, watching as your combined essence dripped down your inner thighs, glistening in the faint glow of the city lights.

Michael stepped back, his chest heaving as he watched you lean heavily against the railing, your body spent, trembling with exhaustion. He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair, his clothes clinging to him as the rain fell harder, turning into tiny pellets that stung against his skin. Without a word, he moved closer, scooping you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Grabbing your heels with his free hand, he turned and sprinted back into the suite, away from the storm.

The door clicked shut behind you both, locking out the chaos of the night as he set your shoes aside and bolted the door. The world outside was a distant roar now, muffled by the thick glass, but the tension still lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He carried you down the hall, your bodies dripping rainwater onto the polished wooden floors as he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the soft, warm lights.

Without a word, Michael gently set you down on the cool marble counter, his eyes scanning your shivering, trembling body for a moment before he turned and walked over to the bathtub. He turned on the water, watching as steam rose from the tub before adding bubbles, the scent of lavender filling the air, calming and soothing. His wet clothes hit the floor in a heap as he stripped down, leaving him bare and beautiful, every muscle defined and gleaming under the light.

He moved back to you, his hands steady as he helped you off the counter and guided you into the warm, inviting water. You sank into the bubbles with a sigh, feeling the heat soothe your aching muscles as Michael slid in behind you, pulling your body against his chest. The water rose around you, covering you both up to your chests, the warmth wrapping around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from the storm still raging outside.

As Michael settled behind you in the bath, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest. His body was a fortress of warmth and strength, a stark contrast to the cool storm still raging outside the windows. The water lapped gently at your skin, the bubbles clinging to your damp hair as you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but it held a trace of concern. His hands traced slow circles on your stomach, soothing the trembling that still lingered in your body.

"More than okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That was... I can't even describe it."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back. "Yeah? You took everything I gave you like the perfect little princess you are." His lips brushed against your temple, and you could feel the pride in his tone, mingled with a possessiveness that made your heart race all over again.

Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of the bath, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine despite the heat. "I love it when you call me that," you murmured, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Makes me feel like I'm yours."

He chuckled again, this time deeper, more primal. "You are mine, princess. You know that." His grip tightened around you, his hands moving slowly up your torso until one hand rested on your chest, the other trailing back to your neck. He held you there, not tightly, but with enough pressure to remind you who was in control. "I never want you to forget it."

"I won't," you promised, your voice a little breathless now as his fingers brushed over your skin, teasing you despite the calm of the bath.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the rain outside now distant, a faint backdrop to the quiet intimacy you shared. His hand dipped back down to your waist, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip under the water, making your breath hitch.

"Tell me," Michael said after a long pause, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want right now."

You bit your lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your eyes half-closed. The feel of his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin was driving you insane. "I just want more of you," you whispered. "I don't want tonight to end."

His lips grazed your ear, a teasing warmth that sent a wave of heat flooding your body again. "More of me?" he murmured, his voice dark with amusement. "Didn't I just give you all of me out there in the rain?"

You smiled lazily, your body relaxing more against his. "You know it's never enough with you, Michael. I could drown in you and still want more."

He let out a low growl, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Damn, baby, you're making it hard for me to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," you teased, turning your head just enough so you could meet his gaze, your lips brushing his as you spoke. "I don't want you to hold back."

Michael's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand sliding back up to your throat, this time gripping a little tighter. "Careful what you wish for, princess."

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," you whispered, daring him with a playful smile.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy against your cheek. Then, without warning, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like he needed to claim you all over again.

You moaned into his mouth, the heat between you reigniting in an instant, the warmth of the bath doing little to quell the fire sparking between your bodies. His hand stayed firm on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, while his other hand wandered under the water, teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"Michael..." you gasped between kisses, your hands reaching behind you to grip his thighs as you arched against him. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to murmur the words against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside me again," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you under the water. "You're so greedy, baby," he growled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But that's okay. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Before you could respond, Michael's hand slid between your thighs, the warmth of the water only intensifying the sudden jolt of pleasure. His touch was deliberate, confident, parting your legs as he pulled you into his lap. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him press against you, the anticipation building with every passing second. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushed inside you, the water rippling in response to the agonizing slowness of his movements.

"Is this what you wanted, princess?" he whispered, his voice husky as his lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His words hung heavy in the steamy air, a dark promise wrapped in desire. "Is this what you've been begging for?"

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your head falling back to rest against his broad shoulder. The world seemed to melt away as your body trembled beneath his touch, completely at his mercy. "More... don't stop..."

His hands tightened around your waist, a possessive grip as he began to move within you. The pace was deliberate, slow, but unyielding—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The soft splash of water echoed in the quiet, mingling with your breathless gasps, creating a rhythm only the two of you shared. Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing through the windows, but it felt distant, as if nothing else existed except this—the closeness, the intensity, the moment.

Michael's lips found your temple, brushing softly against your skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words like a vow sealed between you. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

Your moan was a soft, involuntary response, your fingers digging into his thighs, grounding you as you surrendered to him completely. The steady, unrelenting rhythm of his body against yours filled your senses, each movement an intoxicating blend of pleasure and intimacy. "I love you too," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

The night stretched on, the storm outside now a faint hum in the background as you and Michael moved together like two wild creatures, lost in your own world. His touch was insistent, his need palpable, and you gave in to every moment, every sensation, as he released his pent-up stress and you reveled in the pleasure that consumed you both. Time blurred, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—wanted, loved, and utterly alive.

Just Michael

Pairing: Bad era Michael x fem!reader

Synopsis: After the roar of the crowd fades, Michael sheds the spotlight, exhausted, glowing, and searching for the only peace he knows: you. In the quiet of dressing rooms and hotel suites, you reconnect after each performance, reminding him that in a world that always wants more—you’re enough.

Tags: fluff, established relationship, bad era, boyfriend material michael….

Word Count: 776

Author’s notes: I’m active on ao3, but this is my first tumblr post! So hello moonwalkers, ily all. Additionally, the fact reader is a girl is only mentioned once, so gender neutral/male readers are welcome :)

—-

The show’s over. The final note has echoed into silence, swallowed by the vastness of the arena. The lights, once a constellation of movement, have dimmed one by one. The roar of the crowd has faded.

This is always the hardest part. Not the show or the spotlight, but the wait after- the long, quiet space between who he has to be and who he is.

You never wait near the stage. That would draw too much attention. Too many eyes, too many questions. Instead, it’s routine that you slip away early, disappearing into the winding back corridors of the venue, finding his dressing room and settling down. You know the drill. The fans still scream somewhere outside, the crew shuffles around with headsets and clipboards, but here is always where he’ll find you.

He offers quick nods and murmured ‘thank you, thank-you’ s to the backup singers, dancers and crew members that pass him on their way out, a brief smile flickering to acknowledge them. He’d often go to his manager to pick up notes or feedback, (ever the perfectionist!), but tonight he seems set on finding one thing.

Tonight as you wait, you’re curled up on the small couch tucked into the far corner, legs pulled under yourself, wearing his worn red tour jacket. You’ve got a bottle of cold water in your hand, the condensation running slowly down your fingers, waiting for the moment he’ll need it. You absentmindedly play with it in your hand.

The door swings open fast, no knock, and Michael steps inside. He’s glowing, radiating exhaustion, (an endorphin induced one nonetheless), he’s sweating, curls damp and unruly, his chest still rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The lights backstage have tinted his skin like a painting still wet with movement.

The second his eyes land on you, something in him melts. The stage presence fades piece by piece, a costume he’s finally allowed to shed.

“There’s my girl,” he says, voice low and raspy.

He crosses the room in a few steps, and without a word more, collapses beside you. His body folds into yours, head falling against your shoulder, arms winding instinctively around your waist- he’s warm, and humming from the adrenaline. “They were crazy loud tonight,” he mumbles into your neck. “It’s not real until I see you.”

You smile into his hair, letting it reach your eyes as he pulls back from the embrace. You brush damp curls back from his forehead. “You were amazing, Mike. They went crazy for Smooth Criminal.”

He chuckles, light and rich, then shifts so he can see your face better, his fingers lacing with yours, thumb tracing gentle circles on your palm. “You know what I was thinking about during the last song?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Coming back here. You. Me. No stage. No pressure. Just, yeah… peace.”

Hours pass gently and the dressing room empties, arena goes dark, and the two of you return to the quiet anonymity of the hotel suite. It’s another routine now, familiar but never boring. Room service sits untouched on the silver tray, he barely notices it. He never really eats after a show. He, right now, just want to be near you, press his body against yours and remember that there’s a world outside the spotlight.

In the low golden light of the room, you lie together on the bed, legs tangled, limbs a comfortable mess. This time, he’s got his head resting against your chest, cheek pressed right over your heart.

Michael starts to hum something, a tune you don’t recognise . A melody, unfinished. “What’s that?”

His voice is even quieter now. “Don’t know yet. Saving it for us.”

Outside, people still talk about him and light up when his name is spoken. The world watches, always. Still, in this room, in this bed, wrapped around each other, right here he’s just Michael.

THRILL HER TONIGHT

[after his historic win, you win the thrill of your life] | 600+ words

WARNINGS: sexual themes , penetration , dirty talk? , genderless reader

[1984]

you’d probably felt a million hands as you left the shrine that night, congratulating the both of you, but mainly him, with boisterous greetings, solid pats on the back nearly knocking him over. long fingers wrapped around your bicep and offered a knowing wink that you took with an electric pride. whispers of something caught between luck and envy sailed into your ears as the cameras captured every single movement. the humble smiles and goodbyes, the excuse me’s and sorry’s, the cries for him as the crowd mutated around the venue to see. in the midst of it all, every eye caught his hold of you, his hand tucked proudly into your waist.

when his car pulled away from the scene, the dark los angeles sky seemed to cover the world. the glitz and glamor of it all was straight out of the hollywood dream, even the stars knew they were just as famous. you look over at him, his face and hands polite in his lap, and squeal like a schoolgirl. “michael!” you wrap your arms around his jacket, jostling him and cupping his face. “you did it, baby!” you kissed his cheek. “you did it—oh!” you kept on, kissing him madly, your lipstick leaving and endless smear of red. “think about everybody back home, they’re all gonna be so proud of you!”

he spoke, honestly, for the first time since his acceptance speech. at least with more words than the thank you’s he’d given in his seat and on the carpet and in the pictures with quincy and them.

“i don’t wanna think about all them right now.” he wet his lips. “i’ve got everything i need right here.”

your eyes locked, passing under streetlights and curving around hills. you knew then that those words had sealed your evening’s fate.

his glove was gone, he’d let you take it off him, and you still felt the stony gems on the tip of your gum behind your front teeth. the glowing white stained now with the rouge from your lips. his face, too, had plenty more of your mark. his ebon skin like a red leopard all the way down his neck and chest.

your hand bends to your headboard, each naked thrust drilling a hole into your wall. the lamp strings dangling on your nightstand clink, vibrating back and forth like the divine man above you, driving into you. his whole body kissing you from the inside out. “mike—“ you gasp, head arching backward in a mess of curls on your pillow. “michael.”

he wants you calling his name like they did at the grammy’s. and he makes it so easy for you. his hips curl into you, his slip like magic. the black coils that flower beneath his hips grow damper, mixing with your need and the spit he gave you when he had you in his mouth and your long nails in his curls. those two syllables were the only language your brain could spare.

his kisses come sloppy, your lips like clay on each other, malleable and wet. his breath comes heavy, grunting and whining in the back of his throat into yours. you lick his tongue and taste the gold he won. you squeeze around him and he takes it, stroking heartily. “take me, baby,” you sigh into him, the pitch high and dehydrated. “you deserve it—ah—mi…”

you goad him with one hand on his back, splaying your fingers to grab his skin. he huffs, tiny beads of sweat cutting into his brow.

he grabs both your thighs and folds you like the pleats in your clothes, mumbling, with his lips by your ear. “what’s my name?”

“michael jackson,” you moan obediently, a decadent smile lacing your voice.

“keep goin’.” his hips kept on, railing your body, sinking you deeper into the bed, going until he was satisfied with it, until your chanting was the only thing he could hear, until you were coming hard singing his praises.

-

requested by @writtenbychris (ILY)

Girl, I Can Thrill You More Than Any Ghoul Would Ever Dare Try

Summary: A beautiful backup dancer catches Michael’s eye during the filming of Thriller. Being friends seemed like a good idea until masking feelings becomes too difficult.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader!

Warning: FRIENDSHIP, JEALOUSY, TWO CLUELESS IDIOTS IN LOVE

Requested: yes

All the dancers were gathered outside of a tall building. They each had matching ID’s hanging around their necks. A mixture of excitement and anticipation filled the air.

“Hello, everyone! Can I get your attention please.” A tall man with brown hair and thick beard waved his hand in the air. “Thank you all for being here early, I’m John Landis, the director of this lovely project. Today, we’re technically still rehearsing, but I need you to give it your all. Dance like each run through is the finale.” Everyone cheered and applauded his announcement. “That’s what I like to hear! Let’s get in there and make history!”

Once inside, everyone changed into their dance shoes and took a few minutes to introduce themselves to one another.

When Michael arrived it was twenty minutes before the scheduled start time and to everyone’s surprise he immediately went around greeting each individual.

“Hi, what’s your name?” He asked with a grin on his face. “I’m Michael.” His hand extending.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s so great to meet you. I’m Michael— wait I already said that. Didn’t I?” He chuckled nervously as his face turned a deep red. “How are you? How was the drive over? Did you travel from far away? Where are you from originally? When did you start dancing?” He shot out every single thing he was thinking by accident. And, it was only then that he realized he was still holding her hand.

“I’m good. Thank you for asking.” She laughed, giving herself a moment to remember all of his questions. “The drive over wasn’t too bad. I’m from—”

“Michael!” John jogged over, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Come on kid. We should get started.” John smiled before looking to see what had the young man’s attention. “You’ll have time to make friends later. Sorry doll, I gotta steal him from you.”

“No problem.” She smiled, looking at Michael then down at their connected hands. “I should probably…”

“Oh, right!” He snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, you probably need your hand. I mean don’t we all. Wait— that— did that— I don’t mean I need your hand. I meant you need your hand. It’s a nice hand— very nice.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was sweet and even her laugh was comforting. Michael could tell that even though he was making a fool of himself, she wasn’t laughing at him. He couldn’t stop looking at her, his feet were planted and the only thing that got him away from her was John dragging him in the opposite direction.

“You’re really one with the ladies Jackson.” John teased.

“Shut up. That was humiliating.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“You always enjoy when I make an ass out of myself, you schmuck.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you to go talk up the pretty lady without a game plan.”

“I wasn’t trying to talk her up.”

“Good because you did a shit job.”

“I hate you.” Michael pinched John’s arm.

“Relax kid. I’ll give you some pointers later, but for now we gotta get to work.”

Michael nodded, the embarrassment still lingered in the back of his mind. He caught himself more than once watching her movements through the mirrors. He hoped no one else could see what he was doing, but he decided that if they did he’d own it. He wouldn’t feel ashamed of admiring a beautiful woman. He studied how she used every part of her body to tell the story— he was so lost in her hips that he didn’t realize three hours came and went.

“Alright, you guys are looking great! I think we’ve reached a great ending point for our first day. However, I do have one tiny suggestion, I think Michael would agree with me on this, we need you.” John smiled, pointing at her, she stepped forward confidently. “Yes, you. You’d be perfect right here.” He guided her to stand beside Michael and sent the male dancer to her old spot. “That’s what you wanted, right Michael?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s definitely more balanced. I like that very much.” He nodded at her, chuckling when she waved back. “Nice to see you again.” He whispered.

“Very nice.” She agreed, tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“Alright, see you all bright and early tomorrow. Rest up well my lovely zombies!” Everyone laughed, dispersing to collect their belongings.

John gave his young friend a very obnoxious thumbs up and made a motion with his hands, encouraging him to keep the conversation going.

“You’re a really good dancer.” Michael faced her, tilting his head as his eyes wandered her figure.

“Thank you. You aren’t bad yourself. Seriously, the choreography is no joke. It looks awesome. I can’t wait to see it once we’re on in costumes and makeup.”

“Well, honestly, I think it’s you that makes it look awesome.”

“Thank you…” She felt like the wind was knocked out of her. He was being so sweet and she didn’t know how to respond.

“I never got the chance to ask…” He reached out, his hand resting on her arm as he guided them over to a secluded corner. “Where are you from?”

She laughed at how secretive he was being over such a normal question. She offered the name of her hometown and a bit of a back story about how she ended up in Los Angeles. He hung on every word like he was going to be quizzed later.

“How about you? Do you like living here?” She asked, leaning against the wall and opening her water bottle. She was so calm. She treated him like a person and it felt good.

“I enjoy it. My entire family is here now too, so that helps. I don’t like feeling isolated.”

“Oh, you’re one of the lucky ones. I wish my family were closer, but we make it work.”

“Do you have friends here?” He perked up, hoping he could be added to that list.

“Um… yes, a few. Mostly people I’ve met along the way. I make sure to keep a busy schedule, with work and school, so I never feel too lonely.”

“Well, I can— we can be friends.” The sweetness laced in his words made her heart flutter.

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.” They shared a moment of silence, softly giggling as they looked at each other.

“Michael!” John shouted, waving him over.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No worries, duty calls.”

Michael approached John with the biggest smile on his face. He avoided his friend’s inquisitive gaze, unzipping his jacket before shrugging it off.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me how it went?” He stared at his young friend, squinting his eyes as if to try to comprehend how he wasn’t uncontrollably gushing over the girl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michael dodged the question, suddenly having all the patience in the world as he tossed his jacket on a nearby table.

“Spill. What did you two talk about?”

“Nothing really. You called me away before I could get anywhere.”

“Oh, where are you trying to go with her lover boy?” John laughed, his hand smacking against his thigh as he teased him.

“Shut up.” Michael covered his face, failing to hide his embarrassment. “Please, don’t laugh at me.” His tone was sad which made the director frown— he hated how quickly Michael’s body language changed.

“Walk with her.” John stated. His tone was steady now and he wanted nothing more than to give his friend the confidence the world was slowly stripping from him. “And, for the record, I’d never laugh at you.” He knew how sensitive Michael could be, especially when he thought he was being made fun of. He never wanted to make him feel that way, so he did his best to reassure him.

“Alright. What do you mean walk with her?”

“Lover boy, walk her to her car. You know, it’s dark out, chivalry will get you a long way.” He pointed at him clicking his tongue to further sell his point.

“Oh, I see.”

“Go on. You got this.”

“Wait! What should I say to her? I don’t think— I’m not sure how— John, what if she doesn’t like me?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. Kid, you gotta stop selling yourself short. She was clearly enjoying talking to you, so you’ve got nothing to stress over. Honestly, I think she’s into you. Just keep being yourself.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll give it a try. I think—”

“No, no, don’t think. You gotta get out of your head and stop doubting yourself. She’ll love you, just be you— everything else will flow on its own. Now, go. Hurry, she’s about to leave.”

Michael shook his head vigorously, grabbing his jacket and sprinting over to the door she was about to push open.

“Y/N!” She looked back, smiling when she saw it was Michael. He stopped a few steps away from her.

“Hi, friend.” She grinned at him, adjusting the bag that hung off her shoulder.

“I’d like to walk you to your car, is that okay?” He waited patiently for her response. She was overwhelmed with his tenderness.

“It’s more than okay, but if you have other things to do, it’s okay.”

“I’d really like to accompany you. Really.”

“Such a gentleman.” She reached for the door, but he jumped in front of her.

“Allow me.” He held the door open for her and it made her entire face heat up. Their bodies brushed against one another as she walked out to the hall. “Here. I’ll take this for you.” He didn’t wait for her response this time. He just slid the strap of her bag off her shoulder and onto his.

“Thank you. You’re so sweet.” She took a small step towards him, her hand landing on his bicep and her fingers curling around it slowly. “Is this okay?” She questioned.

“Oh yes.” He answered quickly, growing more flustered by her touch than he thought he would.

John watched the interaction discreetly from afar with a proud expression on his face. “My boy.” He whispered to himself, the door shut and he couldn’t hear them anymore, but seeing it was enough. They gawked at each other a little longer before walking off and that’s when he gently fist pumped into the air.

“So, what kind of things do you like doing in your free time?” Michael spoke confidently.

“I like baking—”

“I’d love to try your baking!” He interrupted her enthusiastically. “What’s your favorite thing to bake?”

“Hm… if I have to choose it’d be cheesecake or cookies.”

“If you’re up for it maybe you could teach me a thing or two?”

“That would be really fun. You’d look good in an apron.”

“You’d look better.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out soon, huh?”

“I was getting there. I was just working up the courage.”

“Alright.” She stopped walking and faced him. An arch in her eyebrow as she looked back at him, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. “Ask me.”

“Would you like to hang out with me sometime?”

“Hang out sometime?” She repeated, trying to hide her disappointment as his phrasing.

“Yeah, that’s what friends do right?” Michael smiled, silently kicking himself at the use of friends. He definitely doesn’t want to be friends— he wants more.

“Yeah, yeah. They do.” She crossed her arms and tried to keep her voice steady. She felt like an idiot for thinking he would ask her on a date.

“Well, would you?”

“I’d love to. When are you free?”

“For you, any day.” He was turning up his flirting again and although she was loving it— it was also very confusing. Was he asking her out or not?

“Is Saturday good for you? I’ve got a busy week with school and work. Unless…” she decided to test the waters again— one last time. “We’re all going out to dinner on Friday. The cast party thing.” She crossed her fingers hoping the curly haired dancer would say the right thing.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that. Well, I’d like to spend time with you. The two of us. I’d like to get to know you better.”

“You’re a real smooth talker.” She liked his answer. It wasn’t as up front as she’d like, but it was a step in the right direction.

“I try.” He shrugged. “At least I get to see you during rehearsals this week. I have you for three hours everyday.”

“Lucky you.”

“I get to see a beautiful face like yours. I’m more than lucky.”

“Mr. Jackson, you’re making me blush.” She tried to cover her face with her hand, but he stopped her.

“Wow. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier.” His eyes scanned her face. He wasn’t staring at her, he was admiring her and it made her feel more self conscious than she was proud to admit.

“So, what do you like to do?” She turned on her heels and started walking again.

“I love movie nights. I have this giant projector screen and I make popcorn. It’s a nice little escape from reality.”

“I’d love to have a movie night with you.” She propositioned, feeling bold under the dark blue night sky.

“Friday it is, after the cast dinner. Movie starts at eight, sound good?”

“It sounds great.”

“I’m so excited.” He murmured honestly.

“Here.” She let his arm go briefly, leaning towards him to dig into her bag. A piece of paper and pen in hand as she began scribbling. “Um… this is my address and phone number.” She gently placed it in his palm.

“It’s a date.” He clapped his hands triumphantly before he processed his words. “Not a date— I didn’t mean we— date— or if you want— we can— the funny thing about dating—”

“Michael…” His stomach did a flip when he felt her hand move against his. “We can be friends hanging out or if we both— if we like each other this can be a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay.” His smile helped her let out the breath she was holding in. It didn’t occur to either of them that they’d failed to label what Friday night would be because they were to wrapped up in each other. He closed his hand around hers and tried to hold back, but he couldn’t resist. He dipped his head and kissed the top of her hand.

The rest of the week went by painfully slow. Y/N found herself begging for the clock to read the right numbers. She couldn’t wait to see Michael. They didn’t get much time together alone, but somehow she felt closer to him with each day that passed. He waited for her and made a habit of walking her to her car every night. They’d fallen into a routine which had become her favorite time of the day, his too. She put up a playful fight, but deep down she loved hearing the silly excuses he came up with. For example, he claimed to have seen rabid squirrels around and wanted to keep her safe. That one was her favorite.

“Why don’t you ride with me? I’ve got more than enough space.”

“My car is here though. I don’t want you to have to bring me back—”

“Y/N, I don’t mind. Please, I insist.” He looked so happy, so full of hope. “I haven’t got to spend much time with you this week.”

“How could I say no to that smile?” The glow of the streetlights brought a level of calmness that she appreciated. Her stomach was full of butterflies being so close to him— being alone with him.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful.” He stepped closer, his hand found her hip. His touch was sweet and comforting, giving her enough time to move away from him, but she didn’t. She stood before him with wide eyes, leaning into him, all insecurity pushed to the back of her mind.

“So are you.” She whispered, looking deep into his big brown eyes. Their chests pressing against one another as his hand traveled up to cup her face. They were so close and if it weren’t for the bright headlights startling them, they would’ve melted into one another, but instead the space between them grew— he jumped away from her. He scrambled away from her at lightning speed, leaving her to feel not only rejection, but shame.

“We should probably get going.” Michael coughed, running his fingers through his hair as the vehicle that interrupted them drove by, blasting loud music.

“Yeah, they’re probably waiting for us.” She didn’t look at him, quickly getting into the car and putting the seatbelt on. She focused her gaze out the window as they sped through the city to their destination.

Michael nervously fidgeted the entire drive, he wanted to reach out to her, say something, but he couldn’t. She wouldn’t even look at him.

When the car stopped in front of the restaurant, she jumped out of the car and basically sprinted to the entrance.

“Wait up!” Michael yelled after her, she turned to face him. “Wait!”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” Her voice sounded so delicate it made him feel an overwhelming ache in his chest.

“What? No. Of course not.” He tried to reassure her as they stood in front of the doors.

“Are you sure? It seems—” she was cut off by Michael turning his back to her suddenly at the sound of footsteps. She felt the humiliation set in as she studied the back of his head. She didn’t need to say anything else— she had her answer.

She didn’t even blame him, he was— he’s who he is and she’s just a back up dancer.

When he turned back around she was gone. He was certain he ruined things before they could even begin. It’s exactly what he was afraid of. He’s an expert at destroying anything good in his life.

The energy shifted entirely once inside the restaurant, Y/N didn’t look back. She hugged her coworkers taking a seat at the long table.

“How did you get here? Your car was still in the lot when I left.”

“Michael gave me a ride.” She shrugged, crossing her legs as her friends closed in on her with big grins on their faces.

“Oh, getting in good with the boss man, are we?” They laughed, a few of them throwing balled up candy wrappers at her.

“Shush. You guys are ridiculous.”

“Well, he didn’t offer me a ride. Did he offer anyone else a ride in his horse drawn carriage?” A chorus of ‘no’s’ followed as the teasing continued.

“It’s because he’s not trying to wine and dine you, only our little twinkle toes here. He’s totally got it bad for her. Remember yesterday when she tripped and he all about lost it calling for medics— she didn’t even need a bandaid.”

“Stop.”

“Yeah, he’s got a soft spot for this one.”

“No he doesn’t. He’s just being nice. He’s nice to all of us.”

“Yeah, he’s nice but for you, he’s extra nice.”

“He’s nice to all of us, true, but he doesn’t give us all fuck me eyes.”

“Oh my god!” Y/N was horrified, burying her face in her hands.

“It’s true.”

“Please stop talking before someone hears you.”

“Oh, come on! He looks at you like he rather see you dancing on a pole.” One of the guys jumped up requesting high fives as he held his hand up.

“That was a good one!”

“He’s trying to get into your bloomers.”

“You guys stop.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head at the unnecessary attention.

“He doesn’t walk me to my car! Boy, wouldn’t even notice if I got run over. He’s too focused on you.”

“You’re all very mentally flawed individuals.” Y/N flipped them off and they all returned the sentiment.

“Woah, what did we miss?” John’s voice sounded from behind her and they all quickly dropped their hands.

“Oh, nothing.” One of them answered. “Just some good old team bonding.”

“That’s great to hear! So, are we ready to get this party started?” He asked, earning a loud cheer from everyone.

They had the entire place to themselves which gave them unlimited access to everything. Y/N was playing air hockey with a few people when she noticed Michael’s uneasy demeanor. He was leaned up against the wall, watching with a half smile on his face. It was like he wanted to participate, but felt like he’d be rejected, so he just observed. She watched closely when he pushed himself off the wall and sped walked down a hallway.

“Hey, play for me!” She handed over her pusher, sprinting off and ignoring the confused looks.

The dimly lit hallway caused some fear to bubble up inside of her, but she continued on anyway. At the end of the hall were the restrooms, she heard rustling in the men’s room and stopped in her tracks. She focused on the sound and knew it was him.

“Michael?” She knocked softly.

“Y— yeah. I’m— I’m— fine.”

“Do you— can I come in?”

“Please.” His voice sounded strained, a few seconds went by and she heard the door unlock.

She opened the door slowly as to not scare him. He turned away from her, burying his face in his hands.

“Michael.”

“Hm.”

“Turn around. Look at me.” She sounded sweet, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. It’s me.” Her palms rested cautiously on his wrists. “Come on.” She cooed, her thumbs running small circles on his hand and finally he let her take control.

“You don’t have to— you can go back out there.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“It’s not a big deal. I understand. We can still be friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.” He spat bluntly, she blinked slowly, her throat closing rapidly and she became very aware of the fact she’s probably overstayed her welcome.

“O— Okay.” It was clear she was thinking of leaving with the way she glanced back at the door.

“No!” His body practically transported to block the exit and stop her. “I meant I don’t want to be your friend and nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” She asked, a confused expression on her face.

“It’s just— I mean— we can be best friends.” He said in a panic.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She nodded along and felt her stomach drop at the tone of his voice.

“Um— thanks for checking on me.”

“No problem. That’s what friends are for right?” She chuckled nervously. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I think so. I don’t really know how to be around people and I don’t want to ruin anyone’s time.”

“You won’t ruin anything. What are you so worried about?”

“I’m not used to being around people my age. I don’t go out like this. It’s all new to me. I don’t want to be laughed at.”

“Michael, no one is going to laugh at you.”

“I want to feel normal for a night, you know? I thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity, but I saw everyone playing games and laughing together. I don’t know how to be part of it. I’m never included in things like this— I’m always kept separate from everything. It sucks.”

“Come on. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She held her hand out and waited for him to give in.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll fit in— I never do.”

“You fit in just fine. Michael, you’re so fun to be around. You deserve to enjoy yourself and make new friends. No one is going to make fun of you or make you feel out of place. I wouldn’t let that happen. There’s a good group of people out there and the night is still young. What do you say?”

“I say…”

“Hey, don’t you trust me?”

“Yes. I trust you.” He smiled, taking her hand without a second thought.

“Well, did you or didn’t you enjoy yourself?” She asked, climbing into the car as he held the door open.

“I did. You were right. Who knew I was so good at air hockey?” He laughed, sitting beside her and shutting the door.

“You were a natural! I can’t believe you’ve never played before.”

“Yeah, about that.”

“What?”

“I have an air hockey table at home…”

“You lied!” She shouted, turning towards him with her mouth wide open in shock.

“Kind of, but I didn’t mean to! I was nervous and I don’t know it just slipped out. Then, everyone started cheering for me and I couldn’t tell the truth! It felt good— I felt like a college student, hanging out with friends.” He shrugged bashfully and she couldn’t help but emphasize.

“I guess I’ll keep your secret. I’m glad you had fun with everyone.”

“And now, movie night!” He cheered as the car pulled into the driveway of his home.

They made their way inside and Y/N did her best not to look too blown away by his home. It was huge and beautiful. She tried to act as though this wasn’t her first time in a mansion, but hell was it difficult.

“You can leave your stuff here. The movie theater is on the other side of the property. I’ll just grab a few blankets.”

“Movie theater?”

“Yeah, we can drive one of the golf carts over. It’s too far to walk.”

“Golf carts. Plural.”

“You want to drive your own? We can race.”

“I’ve never driven one before, so I’ll just ride with you.”

He beamed at her, the way she was trying not to freak out over his home was commendable. He knew she wanted him to feel normal around her and he appreciated the hell out of that. When they made their way outside Y/N sat next to him trying hard not to let her gaze wander around the yard, he chuckled, placing the blankets in her lap and driving off at a steady pace.

“Here we are.” He sang softly, guiding her over to the tall brick building.

“Woah.” She whispered as he flipped on the lights revealing the theater. “It’s so nice. No way! You have a cotton candy machine!” She squealed, running over to it and searching for the on switch.

“It’s right there.” He laughed, pressing the button and watching closely as her eyes lit up. “I’m going to go get the movie started.”

She nodded, not looking away from the machine, she poured the sugar in and clapped as it fluffed up. The movie screen lit up and he dimmed the lights before making his way over to sit next to her.

“Here!” She held out a giant cloud of cotton candy.

“You’re funny.” He commented, looking on as she did a little happy dance in her seat.

“What?”

“Nothing I just like seeing you so happy.”

“This is going to be the best movie night ever.”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, the darkness of the room hiding the longing look in his eyes.

“Thank you for having me over.”

“To the first of many.” He grins, holding his cotton candy in the air looking to her to match his gesture.

“Definitely.” She raised her cotton candy and bumped it into his causing them both to crack up.

About half way into the movie, and after what felt like a ton of candy and popcorn, he decided to try something. He unfolded a blanket, laying it across both of their laps. She thanked him quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder, without hesitation his arm went to wrap around her. He was surprised with himself, he’d never made a move like that before.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice low, cautious not to completely interrupt the movie.

"Sure, funky feet. What's up?" He laughed, shaking his head at her silly nickname for him.

"Oh, shush, twinkle toes." He threw some popcorn at her which she attempted to block with a pillow.

"What's your question?"

"Why are you friends with me? Do you— don't you think I'm weird?"

"I'm friends with you because you're kind and we have a lot in common. You’re a good person and I think maybe some of that goodness could rub off on me. I enjoy being around you— we have fun together, don't you think?"

"Yes." He blushed.

"Good, I'm glad you agree."

"You didn't answer—"

"Michael, you aren't weird. You're actually very normal— all the insane talent and worldwide admiration aside... you're just a guy. A great guy with a good head on your shoulders and a pure heart. You are not weird."

"You really think so?"

"You're one of my favorite people for a reason."

Michael didn't say anything. He knew if he opened his mouth he'd end up bursting into tears.

For some reason her acceptance made him emotional. He squeezed her hand and that was enough. She knew.

Y/N laughed along with her friends as they walked out onto the road at the shooting location. It was a simple setting which would make them stand out even more. She felt some nerves as she watched the crew begin setting up their equipment. The group of dancers planned to run through the routine once, fix any possible errors, make the most out of the space before getting into hair, makeup and costumes for filming. She couldn’t help but notice how eager she felt to see him.

“Hey, you think boss man had a good time last night?” One of the guys asked out loud.

“I think so. He seemed to feel more comfortable with a certain someone beside him.” Her friend spoke, nudging her with her elbow. “Isn’t that right, lovely?” She giggled, using the nickname Michael had let slip so effortlessly the night before.

“Would you cut it out?” Y/N replied. “We get along. He’s cool.”

“He’s cool.” They mocked her jokingly.

“Y/N, he is so into you.”

“We’re friends.” She reiterated, focusing on tying her shoelaces, so she could ignore the pang in her chest.

“I bet you twenty bucks you two are boinking by the end of the week.”

“End of the week? More like end of the hour. Unless… they’ve already got it on…” They stared at her waiting for confirmation.

“You guys are being so inappropriate.” She said, laughing at their bluntness.

“Y/N.” One of the guys stood next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “We’re friends, right?”

“Right.” She answered, a little confused about where this was going.

“Yeah, friends. Which means, you’d never look at me the way you look at him—”

“I don’t—”

“And, you’d feel aggressively ill if I looked at you or spoke to you the way he does. You guys— the two of you are being really annoying denying what’s between you.”

“You can say that again!” Someone shouted.

“There’s— I don’t know what you guys want me to do.”

“Anything is better than doing nothing.” He smiled, hugging her tightly before pulling her along with him to join the rest of the dancers as they rehearsed.

As they moved to the music she tried to ignore everyone’s jokes, but she knew they were right. She had a crush— more than a crush, but she was sure Michael experienced that all the time— girls falling for him. She didn’t want to ruin their friendship over her feelings, especially when he’d expressed to her how difficult it was for him to make friends. He needed a friend and she was willing to be there for him. She’d do anything for him.

“Excited?” She asked enthusiastically as she approached Michael and John during their break from dancing.

“What?” He responded hastily.

“Oh, I just asked if you were excited?”

“Like you care.” He muttered, walking off and disappearing into his trailer.

She stood there dumbfounded, unable to take her eyes off where he’d been standing. John watched the exchange and felt out of place. He didn’t know what to do, the poor girl looked crushed. All the happiness vanished from her being in an instant.

“He’s just stressed.” He offered with a kind smile.

“Oh okay.”

“You should go check on him. We have some extra time.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“He does. Believe me. Go, it’ll help calm him down.” She nodded, walking over to his trailer, filled with uncertainty. Yet, here she was, knocking on his door, excited for him to answer. She just wanted to see his face.

“Come in.” His voice called from the other side.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I guess I’m just—”

“Stressed?” She smiled, finishing his sentence.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m here to help. What can I do? Do you want to pull a prank on John? I’ve got some good ideas.” She giggled wickedly, expecting him to be her accomplice without much persuasion.

“Do you— are you dating him?”

“What?”

“Are you dating him?” He questioned, his words coming out slowly.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“The guy. The one that was all over you.”

“No one was all over me. I’m not dating—”

“He had his arm around you. You were laughing and smiling. It looked like you enjoyed it.” He spoke, looking down at the floor as his voice became weak.

“He— what? No.”

“You two looked pretty cozy.”

“We are friends. That’s all. No coziness.” She argued, her hands held up in front of her defensively. “Where is this coming from?”

“Ok.”

“Michael?”

“Hm…” He mumbled, staring at the dirty tiled floor.

“Why did that have you so worked up… the idea of me dating him?”

“I wasn’t worked up.” He stated unconvincingly.

“Really? Then, what do you call it?”

“I call it— it’s just— you know we’re friends— I was being a good friend— worrying about you. I mean I wouldn’t want you, my friend, to date… date a guy— date a jerk. Date someone…”

“So, this is just about us being friends?” She asked, her voice becoming louder as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what we are.”

“The friend thing again.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand. Can you explain this to me? Why are you, my ‘friend’, so pissed off at the thought of me going on a date?” She asked, even using air quotes around the word friend. She was frustrated with all the mixed signals.

“Well, I’m not sure— I’m not mad about you going on a date—”

“Okay, well I’ll just go ask him on a date then, since you see something so special between us.” She threatened, spinning around and reaching for the door knob.

“No! You’re making rash decisions. Don’t do that Y/N!” He grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the door. “I don’t want you to do that!”

“Why not?”

“I— I don’t know. He’s not right for you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I— I don’t— can you just not do that please?” He begged, looking into her eyes like a lost puppy.

“Why? Tell me. Michael, just say it.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know— don’t know— I don’t know what to say— just please don’t.” He stumbled over his words and felt his hands begin to sweat.

“Do you like me?” She inquired calmly, doing her best not to let her true feelings show, but also trying to avoid being hurt by his answer.

“Yeah. Yes, of course I like you.”

“As more than a friend?” He stared at her blankly, so she tried to relieve some pressure. “When I say the word friend about other people I meant it, you know? It’s simple, but with you. It feels like it means more. You’re special— to me you’re a one of a kind… friend.”

“Oh— well I mean I— I don’t want to say the wrong— I don’t— I screw things up— I feel things— I feel— I can’t— I’m not sure how to explain.”

“I like you.” She whispered, stepping towards him, her tongue dragged against her lips quickly, but to him it happened in slow motion. “More than a friend…”

“You… me?” He asked in disbelief. “How?”

“Seriously? How could I not like you?”

“I— oh— this…”

“It’s okay. I guess I read this wrong. Listen, I want to be your friend anyway. I can put my feelings aside—”

“Aside? No, no.”

“No?”

“Don’t put them aside. Please, I’m crazy about you.”

“Crazy, huh?”

“I can’t put into words the way I feel about you.”

“Then, show me.” She closed the space between them, her chest bumping against his with each breath. He swallowed any nerves he was about to voice, how could he feel anything negative when she was looking at him like that.

“Y/N.” He hummed her name just as his lips touched hers. His heart was pounding, his fingers trembling as they dug into her hips. Her arms wrapped around him and she moaned into his mouth.

He carefully walked her backwards, pushing her up against the wall. She let out a surprised yelp at how he took control, but that only turned him on further. She tugged his shirt off and he pulled her top over her head. The sight of her lacey bra brought him to a halt— he needed a moment to catch his breath.

“Michael?”

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed out. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted all this time being so afraid when I could’ve been kissing these perfect lips.”

“I can’t believe I waited all this time for you to finally make a move. I was growing impatient.”

“I know.” He chuckled. “Thank you, for helping me make my move. You lovely woman.” He buried his face against her neck.

“You’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Sorry.” He retrieved a button down shirt from his clothing rack, draping it across her shoulders and slowly buttoning it. “As much as I’d like to get you out of all your clothes… we’ve got all the time in the world for that. I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want to mess this up. I want to do this right, you deserve to be taken on dates and maybe… possibly… if you’re interested… allowing me to call myself your boyfriend.”

“I love the sound of that… boyfriend.”

“Are you free for a mini impromptu date right now, my beautiful, incredibly talented girlfriend?” He questioned, tucking her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers drag down the soft skin of her cheek.

“Oh, and what does this impromptu date entail?”

“A little of this…” his hands moved slowly down to the curve of her ass. “A lot of this…” he tilted his head, kissing her deeply, his tongue moving so perfectly, so sensually and it drove her crazy. When his lips traveled down to her neck, leaving wet kisses, she hooked her leg around his hips. She grinded against him, fully aware of what she was doing and feeling his hard growing made her smile into the kiss. They knew that eventually they’d go all the way, but for now they felt alive teasing one another.

In her mind she wondered what else he could do with his tongue. She looked forward to finding out. She was yearning to know how’d he feel on top of her or under her— any and every position really peaked her interest.

As she moved her hips against his, he wondered how good it would feel to be inside her. He couldn’t wait to hear all the beautiful sounds she’d make and how loud he could get her to scream his name.

LOVE ON TAPE

(michael loves his new camcorder) | 476 words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , sexual themes , filming sex , fingering , riding , exhibitionism

[1993]

im imagining mike with this new camcorder he bought. one he’d been eyeing & so excited to capture all of his memories with you on

like on nights out for events he’d post up in your full body mirror, scanning his suit

i’m recording he smiles, the camera following your strut from the closet

you look stunning. he marvels. absolutely gorgeous…and beautiful…and—

please, baby, we’re so late you chide him with a loving smile and tug of his hand

your lips, perfectly made-up, float behind the camera

a hum seals your kiss

i can picture him wanting to also record other things……

in front of the same mirror, the camera picks up the glimmer of gold that curls around, frames the glass

he has you record the two of you, naked, the view angling just below your chest, a mist of fuzzy bodies in the viewfinder, your legs multiplying as you stand in front of his

in the low light you look like two statues in a museum, the standing lovers

soft kisses spur behind the camera

and his hand slides across your breasts, skin supple from your shared bath and oil

slips, achingly slow, just so the camera sees it all,

like a serpent down your belly, reaching between your legs

he was an artiste that way…

middle finger circling, deeper than the rest, into the dip where your sweetness pools,

shakily you breath in , a motion on the camera, your head falls back onto his shoulder. a kiss is heard again

does that feel good?

mhm…

are you getting it?

mhm…

zooming in, he cups you with his whole hand

on camera, his wedding band glimmers

your gasp shakes the vision

knees quaking

and his dick is absolutely solid behind you, stiff against your skin where the bone dips in your hip, curves you like a violin

your teeth bite into your smile

let them see

there was no them but it got you wetter to think so

you guide the camera into one hand, holding it steadily as you spit into your palm, curve your arm back and wrap around him, your body moving sideways to get a better look for the lens

his breath is trembling, the effect magnetic

his fingers still caressed you, you both moan gingerly

his eyes watch you in the mirror, yours swing between the camera and his arm reaching around to play with you, the veins appearing in your view

you can’t tell which was sexier

you kiss his bicep, gasping louder now

you’re gonna make me…

mhm

the camera drops low as you come undone and michael chuckles, his fingers still rocking you mercilessly.

and maybe he’d record you in the dark, riding him feverishly, his hips melding into yours, his being so deep, his thumb sweet and methodic on your clit……….your moans……..oh he’d praise you like his life depended on it until you both shake with climax

the camcorder falling beside him on the bed

behind the camera, a symphony of panting and the lovers’ satiated giggling

screen cuts to black

𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝙾𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚎

Smut

1984

HayvenHurst

Word Count: 7.1k

The family house buzzed with the warmth of laughter and the steady hum of music, though the melody was nearly drowned out by the boisterous chatter and the clinking of glasses. Red Solo cups were scattered around, each one filled to the brim with a mix of spirits and juices, the evidence of a night full of celebration and unwinding.

Perched on the kitchen counter, you found yourself nestled comfortably on Michael’s lap, his strong arm encircling your waist. The firm grip reassured you, keeping you securely against him as he engaged in conversation with his brothers, Jackie and Marlon. Yet, your attention wandered far from their words. The conversation was nothing more than a distant murmur as you became increasingly fixated on the gentle, repetitive motion of Michael’s thumb as it traced slow, lazy circles on the exposed skin of your lower back—back and forth, back and forth. The sensation sent shivers up your spine, a subtle reminder of the electric connection between you.

Shifting slightly, you pressed yourself more firmly against him, seeking both comfort and something more. He noticed immediately, his gaze lowering to meet yours. “You alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern and curiosity.

You nodded, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile, though deep down, you were anything but alright. The truth was a secret buried deep within you—an unspoken confession of love for the man whose arms held you so tenderly. It was a love that was all too familiar to his siblings, though they remained blissfully unaware of the depth of your secret. None of them knew that when the night grew quiet and the doors were closed, you and Michael crossed the lines of friendship in ways that would shock them.

“Guys,” Latoya’s voice cut through the haze, pulling your attention back to the present as she approached with a playful grin. “We should play truth or dare,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jackie groaned in response. “Toya, we’re too old for that. Besides, if we mess up the house while Mother and Joe aren’t here, we’ll be in deep trouble,” he cautioned, though his words lacked any real conviction.

Latoya merely shrugged off his concerns, her determination unshaken. “You’re no fun. But we’re still playing. Go get Enid, and Marlon, go grab Carol,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

With resigned sighs, the two brothers rose from their seats, heading off to fetch their wives, leaving you alone with Michael.

Latoya wasn’t done yet. “Michael, are you in?” she asked over her shoulder, already knowing the answer.

He shrugged, his aviators catching the light as he adjusted them on his face. “Sure, why not? But Jackie’s right—we’re too old for this.”

Latoya smirked, a glint of wickedness in her eyes. “We’ll make it dirty,” she teased before disappearing to gather the others.

As the room emptied, Michael turned his full attention to you, removing his aviators and setting them on the counter. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “You heard her, right? She said she’s gonna make it dirty,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You nodded again, trying to maintain your composure as the tension between you thickened. “I heard.”

His gaze dropped to the cup you held, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?” he asked, reaching for your cup and taking a sip.

“It’s just juice,” you reassured him, watching as he took a swallow before setting the cup back down.

“Okay,” he said, though his eyes remained on you, studying your every move. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

You offered another nod, your voice a touch too soft as you responded. “I’m fine, Michael.”

But the truth was, you weren’t fine at all. The way he looked at you, the way his thumb continued to graze your skin—it was all driving you wild. Every stolen glance and innocent touch only stoked the fire that smoldered deep within you. The intensity of your feelings threatened to spill over, and all you wanted was to close the space between you, to tell him how much you loved him. But you hesitated, the words lodged in your throat, your desire simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.

Michael’s gaze never wavered, his eyes fixed on you as if he could see right through the facade. He knew you weren’t fine, but he was patient, waiting for you to come to him with the truth. “You know I’m gonna miss you when we go on tour,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to your thigh. His fingers slipped under your skirt, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you as he caressed your skin.

“I’ll miss you too, Michael,” you replied, your voice soft and filled with longing. You reached up to caress his face, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I’ll try and come see you, though. You know that.”

“I know, doll,” he said with a smile that made your heart flutter. “You better call me, though. I’ll have someone send you the numbers to the hotels and everything. We’ll talk all night if you want, or… do what we usually do.” His grin turned playful, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made your pulse quicken.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a light, breathless sound that escaped your lips as you playfully smacked his chest. “Quit talking like that before your siblings hear you. We don’t need them catching on, Michael.”

“I know, girl,” he teased, his grin widening. “I’m just saying.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. But before you could respond, the rest of the family began filtering back into the room, their presence shifting the atmosphere. They moved to the couches, settling in for what was sure to be a night filled with laughter and revelations, but you and Michael remained by the counter, his arm still wrapped securely around you as you sat on his lap.

“So who’s startin’ this?” Jackie asked, settling down with Enid in his lap, his tone a mix of curiosity and reluctance.

“Toya should, since she wanted to play,” Carol blurted out, her eyes narrowing playfully at Latoya.

“You guys agreed to it,” Latoya shot back, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, her expression one of determined mischief.

“Just start the damn game,” Jackie muttered, rolling his eyes as if to say he was already regretting this decision.

Latoya’s lips curled into a sly smile as she turned her attention to her brother. “Okay, Jackie, truth or dare?” she asked, her voice light but challenging.

“Why me?” Jackie protested, pointing to himself in mock indignation.

“‘Cause you’re talking back. Now answer. Truth or dare?” Latoya’s tone left no room for argument.

Jackie sighed, clearly resigned to his fate. “Truth,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of caution.

“Is it true you and Enid did it in Joseph’s car?” Latoya asked, her question landing like a bombshell in the room.

Jackie’s mouth fell open, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. “Now you know I wouldn’t do that,” he stammered, glancing at Enid as if to confirm his innocence. “He’d try and put his hands on me. He’d probably even kill me! Toya, what made you think that?”

Latoya shrugged, the picture of innocence. “I don’t know, it was just a question. Anyways,” she continued, her eyes shifting to the next target, “Marlon, truth or dare?”

Marlon bit the inside of his cheek, weighing his options before he sighed. “Dare,” he said, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Latoya’s gaze flicked to the counter where a few bottles of liquor sat, her smile turning wicked. “Take five shots,” she commanded, her tone daring him to back out.

“Now Latoya, you know Marlon is a lightweight,” Carol interjected, her concern evident as she eyed the bottles warily.

“I’ll be fine, hun,” Marlon reassured her, a playful grin on his lips as he gently moved Carol off his lap. “I’ll just crash here.”

Marlon stood up, swaggering over to the counter where you and Michael sat. You could feel the energy in the room shift, the tension thickening as everyone waited to see what would happen next. The night seemed ready to take a turn for the wild and unexpected, and Michael’s hand on your thigh only heightened your awareness of the connection between you, a steady reminder of the unspoken bond that pulsed beneath the surface.

Marlon grabbed five shot glasses, his movements deliberate as he poured whiskey into each one. You watched, almost entranced, as the amber liquid filled the glasses. Michael’s hand remained on your thigh, his grip firm, as if to anchor you in the moment. Marlon, with a determined look in his eyes, set the bottle aside and licked his lips, bracing himself for the challenge. Without hesitation, he began pounding back each shot, the glasses clinking as he downed them one after another.

“Marlon, slow down!” Carol’s voice cut through the air, but her concern was met with a dismissive wave. He didn’t listen, intent on completing the dare. With a final, defiant slam of the glass on the counter, he exhaled sharply. “I ain’t doing that again,” he muttered, his voice thick with the burn of the whiskey, before he staggered back over to the couch and plopped down with a satisfied grin.

Latoya chuckled, clearly amused by Marlon’s bravado. She turned her attention to Carol next, her tone light but with an edge of mischief. “Alright, Carol, truth or dare?”

Carol rolled her eyes, already anticipating the sort of trouble Latoya might stir up. “Truth, Latoya,” she said, her voice carrying a note of warning.

Latoya’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward slightly, her question poised to strike a nerve. “Have you ever cheated on Marlon?”

The room went still, all eyes snapping to Carol. Her face hardened, and she shot Latoya a look that could cut glass. “Never in my damn life,” she snapped, her voice ringing with conviction. “Toya, I love Marlon, and every one of you knows this.”

Latoya held up her hands in mock surrender, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “I’m just kidding, relax,” she said, though the glint in her eyes suggested she enjoyed pushing buttons. Then, her gaze shifted, locking onto Michael with a new challenge. “Michael, truth or dare?”

You felt Michael’s grip on your thigh tighten, the tension in his body palpable. He glanced at you, his brow furrowed slightly as he whispered, “Which one?”

You shrugged, your heart racing as you tried to keep your cool. “I don’t know,” you whispered back, though the anticipation of what might come next sent a thrill through you.

Michael licked his lips, a sign of his nerves or perhaps excitement, before answering. “Dare,” he said, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.

Latoya fell silent, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the two of you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the playful atmosphere shifting into something more charged. Her gaze drifted down to where Michael’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, her smirk widening as she pieced together the unspoken tension between you. “Hmm,” she mused, her tone laden with implication as she looked back at Michael, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She had something up her sleeve, and whatever it was, it was bound to stir up the night in a way neither of you could predict.

Her smirk widened as she leaned against the wall, her eyes locked on you and Michael. The air in the room grew thick with anticipation, the playful atmosphere now electrified with something deeper. Her gaze lingered on Michael’s hand, still possessively resting on your thigh, before she delivered her dare with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I dare you to make out with her,” she said, her voice dripping with challenge.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a jolt of shock ripple through you, but Michael remained unphased. His expression didn’t waver as he turned to you, then back to Latoya. “In front of you all?” he asked, his tone calm, as if he were merely discussing the weather.

Latoya’s smirk didn’t falter. She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as if daring him to refuse. “You claim you don’t have any feelings for her,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a knowing look, “I just want to see it with my own eyes.”

Michael’s gaze softened as he looked back at you, his brow raised in a silent question. “You okay with this?” he asked, his voice gentle, a quiet understanding passing between you.

Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your stomach, you nodded. There was something exhilarating about the dare, about the prospect of revealing the hidden truth that simmered just beneath the surface.

Michael’s thumb brushed your chin as he cupped your face, drawing you closer until your lips were just a breath apart. His warm breath fanned across your skin, and you hesitated for the briefest moment. “Just act like we’re in a room together,” Michael whispered, his voice so low that only you could hear, the intimate suggestion sending a shiver down your spine.

Closing your eyes, you leaned into the kiss, your lips meeting his in a slow, sensual dance. The world around you seemed to melt away as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth to playfully wrestle with yours. Michael’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer, the kiss becoming a private exchange of emotions you’d kept hidden for so long.

The room fell into a stunned silence, everyone’s attention riveted on the two of you. Jackie’s eyes widened in surprise, the sight of his little brother’s intensity catching him off guard. Marlon let out a low whistle, leaning back into the couch with a smirk. “Damn, Mike,” he muttered under his breath, impressed by Michael’s boldness.

When Michael finally pulled away, his hand lingered on your face as he wiped the faint trace of his saliva from your bottom lip. His eyes searched yours, filled with a tenderness that made your heart race. “You alright?” he whispered, his voice full of quiet concern, as if the room full of people no longer mattered.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, “I’m fine.” Yet every word was a facade, masking the tumultuous storm inside you. The kiss had awoken something primal, an insistent longing that had been simmering beneath the surface, fighting to escape. Michael’s gaze, intense and smoldering, mirrored your own restless desires. His eyes, dark with unspoken yearnings, made it clear that he was feeling the same electric charge that coursed between you.

Latoya, her gaze flickering between you and Michael, finally looked away, her expression a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. The game continued, but with each new dare, the atmosphere grew more charged. The challenges for you and Michael became increasingly audacious, pushing boundaries in a way that heightened the tension between you two. The dares seemed designed to escalate the already palpable desire, adding fuel to the fire that was burning ever more fiercely.

Michael’s touch was a paradox, an intoxicating mix of tenderness and torment. When he shrugged off his jacket, the soft fabric slid against your skin like a whisper, its weight settling over your lap as a shield from prying eyes, cocooning the two of you in an intimate bubble. His hand, warm and insistent, began its deliberate journey up your thigh, each touch a promise of what was to come. As his fingers reached the waistband of your skirt, they moved with the precision of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties to graze over your sensitive folds.

“Don’t moan,” he commanded, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a rough, husky whisper that sent shivers cascading down your spine. The deliberate slowness with which his fingers moved, exploring the wetness that had already begun to gather, made your breath hitch in your throat.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you fought to suppress the reactions his touch elicited. The warmth of his breath against your neck, combined with the tantalizing pressure of his fingers, was almost too much to bear. “Michael, slow down,” you managed to whisper, your voice a mix of desperation and need, but he ignored your plea, his fingers continuing their relentless exploration, each touch pushing you closer to the edge.

Just then, Latoya’s voice cut through the thick haze of desire, her tone playful yet demanding. “Michael, truth or dare?”

“Pardon?” Michael’s focus wavered for a brief moment, but his hand remained in place, his fingers never pausing.

“Truth or dare?” she repeated, her tone firm and unyielding, as if she were determined to break the spell he had cast over you.

Michael’s eyes flicked to hers, then back to you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Truth,” he said, his gaze lingering on your flushed face before he turned his attention back to Latoya.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she asked, “Is it true that you like her?” The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Michael’s gaze flickered between you and Latoya, a momentary pause before he answered. “Yes, I do,” he confessed, his voice steady and unashamed, even as his fingers resumed their rhythm, sliding deeper with a calculated precision that made you grip his thigh in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself.

“Y-you like me?” you stammered, the words barely escaping your lips as your breath quickened, your mind struggling to process both his confession and the sensations his touch was provoking.

Michael chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, vibrating against your ear. “You couldn’t tell by now?” he murmured, his fingers continuing their deliberate rhythm, each stroke perfectly aimed to drive you closer to the brink. “I’ve been throwing signs at you for a week, girl. I see you as more than just my best friend, and I think you know that.”

Jackie’s voice cut in, surprised yet amused. “Hey, at least she likes you too, Mike.”

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours once more, dark and intent, his fingers increasing their pace, pushing you perilously close to the edge. “You like me too?” he whispered, his voice a sultry murmur that sent another wave of heat coursing through your body.

“Yes, Michael,” you whimpered, the sound escaping despite your best efforts to stifle it.

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispered harshly, his breath warm against your ear, his fingers relentless in their pursuit, each stroke calculated to push you further.

You nodded, your head moving in a subtle, desperate motion, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Why’d you wait to tell me?” Michael’s voice was louder now, cutting through the haze of desire, demanding answers.

“Because I—I didn’t know how you’d react,” you admitted, your voice trembling with both the physical and emotional intensity of the moment.

Enid’s voice joined the mix, light and teasing. “You should have told him sooner. You two would make a cute husband and wife.”

Michael’s fingers never faltered, each movement precise and purposeful, driving you closer to the edge with every passing second. “You think so?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours, his focus entirely on you as he continued to push you closer to the brink.

“Yeah,” Enid replied, her voice filled with warmth. “She’d be a pretty Mrs. Jackson, and those babies would be adorable.”

Your eyes locked onto Michael’s, pleading with him, knowing that you were seconds away from losing control. The tension was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation, your peak so close you could almost taste it.

“Toya, can we end the game?” Michael asked, his voice tight with restraint as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

“Uh, yes, I was getting tired anyways,” she agreed, the conversation fading into the background as your focus narrowed to the sensations he was eliciting.

Michael nodded, his fingers still working their magic, the wet sounds of your arousal muffled beneath the barriers of clothes. “You two staying in here?” Jackie asked, his tone casual, oblivious to the intimate moment unfolding right beside him.

“Yeah, I need to talk to her,” Michael said, his tone firm. “We’ll clean up when we’re finished.”

“Alright then, goodnight, y’all,” Jackie said as they all left the room, the door closing with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone.

“Michael, I’m close,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Not yet,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a mix of command and desire. His hand moved to cover your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender.

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same way,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“But I do,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, your body teetering on the very edge of release. But Michael wasn’t done with you yet. His hand cupped your face, his touch firm, demanding your attention as he forced your eyes open. His gaze was piercing, a silent command that sent shivers through your entire being. “Don’t cum,” he ordered, his voice a low, commanding whisper. “Not yet. I know they’re still out there.” His hand moved to cover your mouth, silencing any sound that might escape as his fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, holding you on the brink, the tension in your body building to a fever pitch.

Unable to resist, you laid your head back against his shoulder, your hips instinctively grinding against his hand, seeking the release he was denying you. His fingers moved with precision, curving just right inside you, each pump intensifying the burning need in your core. Your body trembled with the effort to hold back, every muscle tensed, desperate for the permission to let go.

Michael’s focus shifted to the sounds around him, the creak of the stairs and the soft thud of doors closing one by one, signaling that everyone was finally retreating to their rooms for the night. It was only when the house fell silent, the last door clicking shut, that he leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “Let go.”

The words were your undoing. You moaned into his hand, your body shuddering as you came undone, the release you’d been denied flooding through you in powerful waves. Your moans were muffled against his palm, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure consumed you, every nerve in your body tingling with the intensity of it. Michael watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, then drifting down to your neck, lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, his gaze darkening as he took in the swell of your cleavage beneath your shirt.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing, “let go for me, babygirl.” His words were a gentle push that sent you spiraling even further into the bliss he’d so carefully crafted.

As the tremors subsided, Michael’s hand moved from your mouth, trailing down your neck with deliberate slowness, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He slipped his hand inside your shirt, cupping your breast, his thumb grazing over your hardened nipple through the fabric, sending another shiver through your already sensitive body.

“So,” he began, his fingers finally slowing their pace, the pressure easing just enough for you to catch your breath, “are we together now, or what?” His tone was casual, but the question carried weight, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You opened your eyes, still hazy with the aftermath of your release, and looked up at him. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice soft but certain, your head nodding slightly.

A smile spread across Michael’s face, a mixture of relief and satisfaction. He slowly withdrew his fingers from inside you, his touch lingering for a moment before he pulled his hand out from beneath your skirt. “Good,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking off every last trace of your essence with deliberate, lingering strokes. “Cause you’re coming on tour with me now.”

The words took a moment to register, your mind still foggy with the aftershocks of pleasure. “Really?” you asked, your breath still coming in shallow pants.

“Yes, really,” Michael chuckled, his tone light but firm. “I’m not leaving my girl behind, especially not for six months.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’m fine with that,” you replied, your voice tinged with exhaustion, yet filled with contentment.

Michael’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a soft tease.

You shook your head, the denial automatic, though your body betrayed you with the slight droop of your eyelids. “No, I’m not,” you lied, though the weariness was evident in your voice.

Michael’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand resting gently on your cheek. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone tender, giving you the space to express your needs.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your posture until you were straddling his lap, the hard bulge in his slacks pressing against you, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. Leaning in, you whispered against his lips, “I want you.”

Michael swallowed hard, his desire finally slipping past the restraint he’d maintained all night. His hands gripped your hips with a firm, almost possessive hold, pulling you closer until the heat of your bodies mingled. His eyes bore into yours, dark with intent as he bit his lip, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached between the two of you, fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. The sound of the zipper was almost deafening in the quiet room, a sharp contrast to the heavy breathing that filled the space. He unbuttoned his pants, and in one swift motion, he freed his hardened shaft, thick and pulsing with need. His hand moved deliberately, licking his palm before wrapping it around his length, stroking himself with a slow, purposeful rhythm. You both watched as the thick foreskin peeled back with each pump, revealing the sensitive, reddened tip beneath.

“Pull your panties to the side, baby,” Michael whispered, his voice low and rough with desire.

You stood, your knees trembling slightly as you hovered over him, your fingers slipping beneath your skirt to pull your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him. The cool air against your heated skin sent a shiver through you, heightening the anticipation.

Michael’s hands found your waist, his grip firm as he guided you into position. His eyes never left yours, dark and intense as he angled you just right. “Go down,” he instructed, his voice a husky command.

Slowly, you began to lower yourself onto his length, feeling the pressure as your walls stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was overwhelming, each inch of him thicker and more substantial than the last, the slight curve of his shaft pressing against just the right spot inside you. A gasp escaped your lips as you took him in deeper, your body adjusting to the intrusion.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

You sank down until you were fully seated on his lap, your breath hitching as you stifled a moan, the sensation of being filled so completely sending a wave of heat through your core. Your walls throbbed around him, your body instinctively tightening against the intrusion, but you relished the delicious stretch, the way his girth filled you so thoroughly, making you feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his length.

Michael held your gaze, his eyes burning with a mix of desire and something deeper, something more possessive. His hands moved to your hips, both of them gripping you firmly as he began to guide you, moving you up and down his shaft with a slow, deliberate pace. The friction was intense, the tightness between you both creating a sensation that was almost too much to bear.

You whimpered softly, the sound involuntary as you felt every inch of him sliding in and out, your body responding to each slow thrust with a shiver of pleasure. The sensation was so intense, so real, that it was almost overwhelming.

“This feels real now, doesn’t it?” Michael asked, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against your ear.

You nodded, your voice barely more than a whisper as you replied, “Yes, Michael.” The intimacy of the moment, the connection between you both, made it feel even more intense. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder, seeking comfort in the closeness.

Each slow, deliberate movement drove you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you existed. The rhythm of your bodies moving together, his length filling you completely with every glide, left you breathless and wanting. It was an unspoken language, a silent conversation between lovers, where every touch, every sigh, conveyed emotions too deep for words.

Michael’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his palms exploring the soft heat of your skin, savoring the feel of you. You took control, moving on his shaft with a slow, steady rhythm that drew soft whimpers from your lips. Each thrust sent a ripple of pleasure through you, the friction and fullness overwhelming your senses.

“You feel so good,” Michael murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he leaned his head back, his eyes closing to savor the sensations coursing through him. His hands on your waist tightened slightly, guiding you as he let himself feel everything—every emotion, every ounce of desire and connection that had been building between you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the soft curls at the nape, steadying yourself as you moved. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your heart swell. Leaning in close, you whispered against his neck, “I love you, Michael.”

His response was immediate, tender. “I love you more, pretty,” he whispered back, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. He turned his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, the simple act filled with affection and warmth.

Even though you weren’t in a room with a bed surrounded by candlelight, this moment felt more real and intimate than any romantic setting could have created. The rawness of your emotions, the honesty of your confessions, made it all the more powerful.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you moaned, the regret tinged with the pleasure you couldn’t hold back.

Michael’s hands slid back down to your waist, his grip firm but reassuring. “It’s fine, I’m not mad. Besides, I got the girl I’ve wanted for years,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness.

You looked at him, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “So, even before we started messing around?” you asked, the curiosity in your voice mingling with the heat building between you.

He nodded, his pace quickening just enough to heighten the sensation, his body shifting slightly to angle himself deeper inside you. “Yes, baby, even before then. I wanted you bad,” he confessed, his voice low and sincere.

The truth in his words sent a thrill through you, your heart racing as the connection between you deepened. A moan escaped your lips, your red-polished nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him. “Fuck…” you breathed, the intensity of your emotions leaving you raw and exposed.

Michael leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, the touch soft and teasing before he captured your mouth in a deep, heated kiss. The kiss was filled with everything you both felt—love, desire, longing—a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourself in him, in the rhythm of your bodies, in the undeniable connection that had finally been laid bare..

Michael’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more insistent as he wrapped his arms tightly around your core, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The muffled sounds of your bodies moving together echoed in the small room, each impact sending the bar stool scooting slightly across the hardwood floor, rocking back and forth under the force of your passion. But neither of you paid it any mind, lost in the heat of the moment, in the intoxicating rhythm you’d created together.

The kiss between you deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate. His groans mingled with your moans, the sounds blending into one muffled symphony of pleasure. Your lips moved in perfect sync, a dance of passion and need that left you both breathless. His tongue brushed against yours, the sensation sparking a fresh wave of heat that coursed through your veins, intensifying the connection between you.

Your arousal coated Michael’s length in a glistening sheen, the evidence of your desire dripping down to the base of his shaft and soaking through his white linen briefs. Each thrust pushed him deeper inside you, the slickness of your arousal allowing him to move within you with ease, filling you completely with every stroke.

Michael held you close, his grip firm yet tender, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. The intensity of his thrusts sent shivers down your spine, your body responding to him with a desperate hunger that matched his own. The room around you blurred, the only thing that mattered was the feel of him inside you, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, the undeniable connection that pulsed between you with every beat of your hearts.

“Michael,” you whispered against his lips, the word barely audible as your breath hitched in your throat. The heat between you was almost unbearable, your body trembling with the need for release.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured in response, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. His grip on you tightened as he thrust deeper, each movement more powerful than the last, driving you both closer to the edge.

Michael’s words washed over you, his deep voice filled with a promise that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of your being. You moaned softly in response, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar, intoxicating scent that had become a part of you over the years. The two of you moved in perfect sync, each thrust meeting the other in a seamless rhythm, your arousal slickening him further, dripping down to the base of his shaft as your bodies melded together.

Michael’s hands roamed your body with a reverence that made your heart swell, tracing every curve as if trying to commit every inch of you to memory, though you both knew he had already memorized it all long ago. His touch was firm, yet tender, exploring you with a mix of passion and devotion that left you trembling with need.

“Harder,” you moaned against his neck, your voice a breathy plea that he couldn’t ignore.

In response, Michael’s thrusts became more powerful, each one driving deeper into you, filling you completely. His grunts echoed in the small room, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I’m gonna give you everything, girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and desire. “I promise.”

You moaned again, your core tightening, burning with the need for release, but you held on, savoring every moment, every sensation. You didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to let go of the connection that had you both entwined so completely.

Michael could feel the tension building within you, your walls pulsing around his thick length as he drove into you. “You close, aren’t you?” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“Yes…” you breathed, the word barely escaping as a soft moan against his neck.

“Then let it go,” he urged, his voice a soothing command. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel you.”

“But I want this to last,” you moaned, your voice filled with longing.

“It will, baby,” he whispered, his words a tender reassurance. “It’ll always last.”

You lifted your head, capturing his lips in a deep, urgent kiss, your core burning hotter, the need for release becoming almost unbearable. Michael’s hands slid down to grip your behind, his large hands tightening around you as he guided your movements.

“I can’t hold on, Michael,” you moaned, your voice trembling with the effort to stay in control.

“Just let go, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his tone soft but insistent. “I told you, let go for me.”

With his words pushing you over the edge, you began to move faster, taking control, driving yourself toward release. Your legs trembled as you rode him, your pace quickening until you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. Finally, with a muffled cry against his neck, you released, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you, your walls clenching around him as you came undone.

Michael’s grip on you tightened, his own release nearing as he felt your body convulse around him. With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body stiffening as he released, spilling his warmth deep within you. He moaned your name, his voice raw and filled with need, as he filled you completely, emptying every last drop inside you.

The two of you clung to each other, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the moment, your breaths heavy and ragged. Michael lifted your head, his eyes soft as he gazed at you, your forehead damp with sweat, your eyes still closed in bliss.

Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on your lips, watching as your eyes fluttered open to meet his. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice gentle and filled with sincerity.

“I love you,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath, completely blissed out from the intimacy and affection that you had just shared.

“You alright?” Michael asked, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender and concerned.

You nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. “I’m just tired,” you murmured, the weight of the night’s emotions settling in.

Michael nodded, understanding. “How about you go lay down on the couch? I’ll clean us up, then I’ll take care of this mess, and we can crash on the couch till morning,” he suggested, his voice soft and reassuring.

You nodded again, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “That’s fine,” you agreed, your body already craving the comfort of rest.

Michael helped you up, his hands steadying you as you rose from his lap. He watched, almost mesmerized, as the evidence of your shared passion began to slip from your body, coating him in a warm, intimate sheen. “Damn…” he muttered under his breath, a mix of awe and satisfaction in his tone. Reaching for the roll of paper towels behind him, he carefully wiped himself clean, his movements slow and deliberate.

Once he was done, Michael adjusted himself, tucking his shaft back into his briefs and smoothing out his clothes. Then, he turned his attention back to you, gently cleaning the remnants from your inner thigh. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if he was savoring every last moment of closeness.

“Now go lay down,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You nodded and made your way over to the sofa, kicking off your shoes as you settled onto it. The cushions felt soft and welcoming as you pulled a blanket over yourself, watching through half-lidded eyes as Michael moved around the room, tidying up the remnants of your night—empty juice bottles, liquor bottles, and scattered red solo cups.

When he was done, Michael walked over to the door and flicked off the lights, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow from the lights outside. It created a serene, almost magical atmosphere, perfect for the quiet moment that followed.

Michael kicked off his loafers and slid onto the couch beside you, slipping under the blanket and pulling you close. You nuzzled into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your cheek. “You think they’ll say something?” you asked, your voice drowsy as you burrowed deeper into his warmth.

Michael shrugged lightly, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “Can’t say much if they don’t know,” he replied. “But they’ll get the hint.”

You smiled sleepily, feeling content and safe in his arms. “I love you, Michael. I really do. But I didn’t think a game of truth or dare would bring it out,” you confessed, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

Michael’s own tired chuckle rumbled through his chest. “At least we both know now,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you. But just know, I’ve loved you for a while now. You’re always so sweet to me, so kind and loving.” His eyes met yours, the connection between you deepening with each word. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You smiled, leaning up to place a tender kiss on his lips. “Goodnight, Michael. I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you too,” he whispered back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you drift off to sleep.

For a while, Michael stayed awake, taking in the reality of what had just happened, of how you had gone from best friends to something much more. It was a moment that should have happened long ago, but he felt grateful that it had finally come.

Eventually, he allowed himself to relax, his eyes growing heavy as he held you close. As sleep claimed him, a smile of contentment and love spread across his face, mirroring yours as you slept in his arms. This was just the beginning of something beautiful—a new chapter in your lives, one that you both knew would last.

Introduction & Navigation

|☆•° .* * . °•★About Me☆•° .* * . °•★|

☆ Early 20s | Black | Bi | Virgo | She/Her

☆ Interests: music, anime, films, art, Michael Jackson (obviously) and writing.

☆ What I’m listening to at the moment (it’s a mess, y’all): starlightz' rotation

☆ Some of my favorite films: The Color Purple (1985), Edward Scissorhands, Howl’s Moving Castle, The Princess and the Frog, To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar.

☆ Some of my favorite anime: Hunter x Hunter, AoT, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Dorehedoro.

☆ Favorite shows: Interview With The Vampire, The Bear, Snowfall, Steven Universe.

Anyone who likes any of these things or has recommendations, DM me! I’d love to chat :)

|☆•° .* * . °•★About the Blog☆•° .* * . °•★|

☆A place to write and share Michael Jackson content + reblog anything else in my heart and mind (thoughts, art, humor, etc.)

☆Writing Guidelines

☆Masterlist

☆You can find my imagines book on Wattpad here: Sweet Escape

☆Credits to @sweetmelodygraphics, @anitalenia, @cyberangel-graphics, @strangergraphics for the dividers.

☆More to come soon :) edited on 03/24/25.

© All Rights Reserved

Writing Guidelines

☆I am open for requests. Mind you, I am busy in my day to day life + a new writer, so it may take me a while to get to them, but I will do the best I can.

☆I keep Michael’s counterparts pretty neutral (no specific features unless labeled otherwise.)

☆There are so many kinks that exist, so I don’t really know all the ones that are in the ‘no-zone’ for me. But, if I get a request for something I find I’m not comfortable with, I will kindly let you know. However, I absolutely WILL NOT write non-consensual content on this page.

☆This blog IS NOT a safe space for the following: minors, racists, transphobes, homophobes and absolutely anyone who genuinely enjoys carrot cake… I don’t care if there’s no possible way for me to know that last one. You’re aware of the atrocities you indulge in. Leave now.

☆Masterlist

© All Rights Reserved

Masterlist

Total Works: 2

Thriller Era (1982-1985)

Bad Era (1987-1990)

© All Rights Reserved

Thriller Era Fics by starlightz4mj (1982-1985)

Something Is Not Right With Me

Bad Era Fics by starlightz4mj (1987-1990)

It's Our Anniversary

It’s Our Anniversary

Summary: Michael, once again, fails to show up for an important event you had plans for–this time, your anniversary. Tangled in a web of uncertainty, disappointment, and intoxication, how will his untimely arrival unravel the suppressed feelings and unspoken words you’ve both kept hidden?

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Era: Bad

Setting: Encino, California. Spring of 1987.

Category: angst, fluff, smut, oral (f! receiving), sexual intercourse (p in v) 

Word Count: 10,472

Note: For plot's sake, you'll have to pretend that the Havenhurst house wasn’t inhabited by the whole Jackson clan. Sorry if there’s any grammatical errors, btw. Also, I was listening to Anniversary by Tony! Toni! Toné! when the idea for this popped up, hence the title. I think using songs for my imagines might be a recurring feature. Anyway, enjoy! R.I.P. to D’Wayne Wiggins <3

Do you know what today is?

It's our anniversary

Made for you and me

Appareled in a Prussian Blue Valentino gown, you sit in the lavish dining room of the Havenhurst home designed with warm, Victorian elements. The intricately paneled walls display expensive oil canvases from the Romanticism and Renaissance periods. It was your boyfriend’s taste, not yours in particular, but still a stunning sight to take in. A pair of French antique chandeliers, adorned with crystals and bronze candlesticks, dimly light the space—accompanied by the silky notes of Jazz Noir drifting from a record player—blending together to set a mood of intimacy and relaxation.

Yet, as your dolled-up reflection looks back at you in discontent through the polished wood of the mahogany table, you are anything but relaxed. The loud dong of the grandfather clock adjacent to your right tolls aggravatingly for a third time, marking the three hours ago that Michael was supposed to be here. Unsurprisingly to you by now, he is not. That doesn't make the ache of disappointment any less painful.

For nearly the last year of the two you have been a couple, Michael’s packed schedule has been a constant interference to the increasingly rare occasions you spend with each other. Around when you had met him, he had concluded his activities for the Victory Tour, taking on less strenuous pursuits in his career after the success of Thriller. There were the infrequent appearances or interviews here and there, but overall, it was the least busy he had been for most of his life. And in that time, he and you had plenty of it to build a connection.

Being an attorney and starting out on a semi-business basis, you assisted in some of the proceedings he and your colleague took in purchasing the ATV Music Catalogue. There were a few times they came to you for advice on matters of intellectual property, that aspect of law being your area of expertise. Yet, unusually, despite Michael hiring nothing but the best for his legal selection, he hadn’t given any indication that he wanted to have a fiduciary relationship with you, even though you were the top IP lawyer at your firm. Your initial reaction was to be offended. After all the guidance he seeked, what could he possibly have against hiring you? 

“Well, Mr. Jackson, I don’t quite understand why you’d request my help, but decide to not appoint me to a position on your team. Is there some reason you think I’m unqualified for the job?” Voicing your potentially out-of-line assumption, you still maintain a courteous tone, even though your pride was slightly wounded. However, he simply lets out a giggle at the question.

“It’s the opposite, actually. I’d love for you to be a part of my team, but… it would conflict with another interest I have.” His aviator-shielded eyes cast downward toward the ground as he smiled coyly.

“And what might that be?” Your arms folded across your chest as your intrigue was piqued by the ambiguous statement, waiting for him to provide clarity.

“Taking you out to dinner on Saturday night. If you're up for it, of course.”

Your face donned with pleasant surprise as his words registered—a bold approach to make with such a shy demeanour. Though you wouldn’t say it aloud due to professional conduct, you had been an admirer of him since you were a girl in pigtails, starstruck by his strong voice and cherubic charm during that monumental premiere of The Jackson 5 on American Bandstand. 

Having a celebrity crush as a youth was nothing uncommon, but actually being presented with the opportunity to pursue a romantic gesture from them as an adult was inconceivable. The part of you that subdued the adolescent fancy you held for him felt as if it had been sparked again.

And with indignation replaced by delight, previous aggrievance long forgotten, you happily accepted his offer. From that point on, you and Michael went on numerous dates. You remember the more intimate ones—taking walks at night on the beach in Malibu or going to high-end establishments, such as opera houses and fine dining restaurants. The fun ones like going to the movie theater or to arcades in whatever crazy disguise he threw together. Most of them made you erupt into fits of laughter. 

You always voiced the theory that the zany costumes were more of an attention grabber than if people actually saw him in his normal attire, to which he proved otherwise. Long story short, on one of your many visits to Disneyland, you both, along with the Mickey Mouse mascot you were being photographed with, were swarmed by a herd of hysterical fans in the blink of an eye. You’re still not even sure how the limousine managed to get through the crowd as his security guards threw all three of you into the backseat. 

“Holy fucking shit! What the hell is going on?!” The heavily muffled shout of the man beneath the cartoonish mouse head would have been comical, if not for the overly excited group enveloping the vehicle, packed in close and trying to get a glimpse at the King of Pop. You yourself were staggered at the mob and attempting to calm your jittery disposition. All the while, you looked over to find Michael simply smiling and greeting the rowdy bunch, as if this were an average day for him.

Realizing that it was just that, you acknowledged the grace and composer he held himself with as an extremely admirable trait. You couldn’t fathom handling this lack of privacy and fanaticism since childhood. It was moments like this that made it click for you that being Michael Jackson, the popstar, came at a great price. To the world, he was this magical entity to marvel at—a wizard of entertainment. Before, due to the lack of familiar proximity, you used to hold that same image of him to some extent. But now, he was just Michael to you.

Michael, who had an affinity for Peter Pan and old Hollywood and Tchiakovsky. He always approached learning opportunities with eager curiosity, whether it was the sudden interest he’d taken in anatomy in recent months, or his humility in seeking mentorship from those he collaborated with in the industry, despite being a master himself. Michael, who was susceptible to internal struggles like anyone else and oftentimes wore himself down with his own expectations, but only because he believed in himself so fiercely. Michael, who was a beautiful fusion of contrasting energies—childlike spirit and wise, old soul, both wrapped in one. And the more of him you got to experience personally, the more profound and loving your relationship blossomed.

It carried on like this for a while, leisure time filled with frequent rendezvous, until his life started to pick up pace again. With the many filming projects he starred in, paired with countless hours of recording for his upcoming album, the days where you hardly saw him were steadily growing. You were able to distract yourself from his absence by getting lost in your own taxing work of large files riddled with dense jargon. Still, that only served as a temporary solution. 

“I miss you, Michael. We never see eachother anymore.” You utter into the phone while absentmindedly twirling the coil cord around your finger. You were bundled up in Michael’s bed, relaxing on your day off. But for him, he was busy in the studio, perfecting his sound for this new era of artistry. 

An exhaustion-filled sigh is let out into the receiver. “I know. I miss you too. I keep running into all these problems with the tracks. And Quincy-–he wants to go in a completely different direction with the sound than I do. It’s like, I can’t get anything worked out right today… Maybe I should just drop all of this and come home to you.” 

“Well, as much as I’d love that, I wouldn’t let you do it. I know how much this album means to you, to your fans… I want you to give it your all. You’ll get where you need to be. I know it. Just keep trying.”

He’s deeply appreciative of your encouraging words, grateful to have someone so supportive in his corner, even though he’s aware his hectic schedule no doubt takes a toll on you as well. “Yeah… I guess you're right. But still, I wish we had as much time together like we used to.” 

You think for a moment. “Well, how about we try our best to set some time aside out of the holidays for ourselves?” The suggestion was favorable enough, given the circumstances. And although there was some lingering resistance to practices outside of his past religion, such as festivities, he had opened himself generously to trying new things with you—some, more willingly than others…

So, that was the arrangement you both agreed upon. For a brief period, while still new, it was upheld fairly well-–until it wasn’t. The more activities Michael started to be bombarded with, the less he was able to keep his end of the agreement, and many of the days you had reserved for yourselves were cut into or entirely canceled by his heightened workload. But each time, you were understanding.

Like when he missed Valentine’s Day due to a conference he had for a potential brand deal with a fragrance line, which, by the way, ended up falling through, leaving the meeting pointless. Or when he got held back to reshoot some scenes for the Captain EO short film on your birthday, even though he was supposed to wrap up earlier to celebrate with you.

He would always return home with a peace offering, profusely apologizing for not being able to make it. And taking into account the extent of relentless demands in his career, it felt juvenile to be upset. So, you never truly expressed how much it bothered you, keeping it inside in favor of savouring the few moments you did have with each other. 

However, tonight is a different case. It’s your anniversary. And with each of the many reminders you gave over the last few weeks, he promised that no matter what, he would make it here by eight this evening. Instead, you found yourself alone, staring into the porcelain plate of chicken piccata you prepared, which has gone cold by now, with the hands of the clock moving farther and farther away from that designated time. As the minutes dragged on into hours, there wasn’t a single call sent as a courtesy to explain his nonappearance.

For him to not only be a complete no-show but also fail to at least leave you with prior warning—you were nothing less than seething at this point. The fretful bounce of your stilettoed foot carries on as you take a large swig of Chardonnay to ease the perturbance, waiting for the telltale sound of loafers padding down the marbled floors of the corridor. 

Meanwhile, the fluorescent lights of Los Angeles pass by in a blur as Michael heavily steps down on the accelerator of his Mercedes-Benz. Rush hour has long since been over, leaving the roads relatively uncrowded, thankfully making his race home quicker than usual. As the traffic light turns red, wheels halting in place, his right hand rummages around in his pocket to pull out a velvet box. How could I have forgotten? He inspects the small item, twirling it around with his fingers. 

What happened today was nothing short of chaos. Yet again, he and Quincy spent what felt like forever clashing over creative differences. Quincy, favoring the music production, wanted Al Capone to be on the album. Michael, on the other hand, preferred Smooth Criminal. Although both had the same thematic origins, with this song, he had a clearer, conceptualized idea of how it would look and feel in a movie short—the 1920s speakeasy scene, gangster suits and some influences of jazz in the dance style. After much discussion and weighing the pros and cons, Michael's decision ultimately prevailed.

The real trouble began when they actually started recording. From too much echo and reverberation polluting the sound of the tracks to Michael’s vocals not landing where they needed to, he found himself stuck in a continuous loop of scrapping various sections of his work just to start all over again. The constant mishaps couldn’t easily be pinpointed to one thing.

The stress of the ever-nearing approach of deadlines for this album, from music videos to preparations for the upcoming tour. Fatigue from rehearsal-filled days and sudden bursts of inspiration at night—lyrics, harmonies, choreography—that left him sleep-deprived. Or the nervousness from the much more immediate cause that, somehow, amidst all the madness, had completely slipped his mind.

As he returned to the sound booth from a restroom break, fully intending to keep recording until he felt the song he’d been working on was perfected, his eyes caught the red numbers on the digital clock hanging above the entrance—10:39 PM. Panic set in as the realization dawned on him: he was supposed to be home three hours ago for his anniversary. And though being so late to this very important event that you both had greatly anticipated did nothing to ease his anxiety, it was not the primary reason for it.

Michael had planned to turn this celebration of two years together into something even grander—a marriage proposal, but the potentially disastrous outcomes he had conjured up loomed over him like a dark cloud for weeks. As result, this entire studio session ended up in no meaningful progress, and astonishingly, he’d forgotten the one thing he promised he wouldn’t. Quickly pivoting on his foot, he scrambled towards the rack where his leather jacket hung, clumsily throwing it on.

“Smelly, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” The quizzical tone of Quincy’s voice doesn’t falter his rushed escape out of the room.

“I’m sorry, but I really gotta go! I’ll explain it tomorrow!” He hastily offers to wrap up their session before rushing towards the elevator. After impatiently waiting for the platform to ascend and dashing in upon its arrival, he soon reaches the first floor of the main lobby, booking it towards the exit of revolving doors. 

His attention is snapped from the burgundy colored cube in his hand as out of his peripheral, the stoplight turns green, putting the vehicle back in motion. As he carries on with his journey of about ten minutes left until he reaches home, his mind wanders back to the day you first met.

“There’s some parts of this document that are vague. You think you could come over and take a look?” John, Michael’s entertainment lawyer, had just had a brief exchange over the phone with someone moments ago before three loud knocks were heard at the closed door of his workspace. When it opened, in pranced a stunning woman, clad in a form-fitting red skirt suit, instantly drawing in Michael’s intrigue.

“Good afternoon. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson,” you chime in a genial tone, approaching with a beaming smile and extended hand, which he enveloped gently to shake—a fluttering giddiness erupts at the touch. As the two attorneys began to delve into the content of the forms, their words hardly registered to Michael. He was too focused on the concentrated gaze with which you scanned the documents, the shape of your rouged lips curving over vowels.

His eyes wandered to your accentuated curves as you leaned over the desk to examine the papers—voluptuous and alluring. And as you closed your revision of the material with an ‘I’m here if you need anything else,’ he couldn’t stop himself from watching the sway of your hips as you made a swift exit from the room.

You frequented over the next week, offering advice and providing context when needed. Sometimes, he would feign confusion with some parts of the text just so you could stay a little longer. Realizing that this was not the most practical way to prolong your being, nor considerate of your actual work duties, Michael finally decided to voice an inquiry.

“Hey, John, what’s your policy on dating clients?” The brunette man sipping on a latte pauses mid-drink with a puzzled look before lowering the mug.

“I’m flattered, but I don’t go that way.” 

“Not you, silly. I’m talking about her.” Michael waves in the direction of your office, lightly chuckling at John’s humorous remark. “Lawyers and clients aren’t allowed to be romantically involved, right?” He had done some research of his own about the situation, but wanted further confirmation just to be sure.

“Correct. But technically, you aren't an official client of hers, so you could still go for it.” And with that answer, he was asking you out later that very same day. 

Michael had been relatively green to the world of dating by the time you two had met. The seldom flings he had with women, kept under the radar, never developed into anything serious. With the way most of them soured, he wasn’t exactly sure that he would ever find what he was looking for. He often encountered people who were more enamored with his status and what luxuries it could offer than with him.

And though he was more than happy to shower his lady companions with anything they desired, he mostly did so out of the fear of being alone rather than the rapture of being in love, yearning to experience the joys of having a significant other. But little did he know, a certain lively attorney would be the end to his string of unfulfilling situationships.

Of course, he hadn’t initially come in with much expectation that the dynamic between you would deviate from the usual—gifts and opulence in exchange for company. Yet, surprisingly, when he did make such gestures, there was often protest and reluctance from you to accept them. You let it be known that while you were appreciative, he should never feel as if your affection needed to be bought, emphasising that just being together was enough.

And in the time he’s got to share with you, you’d become both his best friend and the light of his life. Mirroring his childlike tendencies, you enjoyed the likes of practical jokes, whimsical films, amusement parks. You both gave each other an equal dose of mischief and excitement—a temporary escape from the pressures of adult life.

On the other hand, the womanly side of you was self-assured and sophisticated. Despite the stipulations that came with his public persona, you weren’t one to crease under the weight. With poise and level-headedness, you managed to navigate both the harsh anatomization and glitzy display of his idol life. And though the expectations and prying scrutiny were unrelenting, your devotion to him never faltered.

As the demands of the day faded and it was just the two of you, your tenderness was given space to flourish in the sacred confines of one another. In the sentimental conversations you found yourselves getting lost in late into the night—confidences, dreams, worries—you had become a part of him he didn’t know he needed.

You possessed the ability to truly see and understand him, even when he tried to mask the parts of himself he feared would make you grow tired and flee. The solitude of his stardom, the sadness from past traumas, which he had believed for so long was impossible to escape, were eased away by the comfort of your unwavering presence and acceptance.

While these gloomy moods burdened Michael at times, he still held a great love and optimism about life. When it came to his craft, he was fiercely passionate and hopeful about all the possibilities he envisioned for himself, even when others thought he may have been overachieving or setting his expectations too high.

But you never doubted or dissuaded him from his aspirations. You were his biggest supporter. Always uplifting, always giving your undivided attention to his enthusiastic ideas about the next big thing he was going to do, eager to get a glimpse into the innovative makings of his mind. And when the work was tiring, your love and support motivated him to keep going.

As your endearments were reified through these saccharine partakings, he was certain that he wanted forever with you. He found refuge in your affections, your embrace—your peace sheltered him from the harsher aspects of his success and internal pains that, at times, would well up so much he thought he could drown. When he felt as if he would lose himself to those turbulent waters, you were the gentle wave beckoning him back to shore.

And in all these things, his resolution to ask for your hand in marriage was absolute. However, there was an additional reason why he decided an engagement was fitting—to convey that his adoration had not been swayed or dulled for you. He was aware that the requirements of his work agendas held great potential to cause a rift in your relationship. 

Consequently, he flipped between confidence that your feelings for him were so strong that you couldn't possibly reject him, to doubts clawing from the darkest corners of his mind, trying to convince him that his fame, his tireless routine, and himself, were still too much for you. As the in-house security guard granted him access through the ornamental gates of his estate, he began to feel that unease bubbling to the surface again.

Easing down the herringbone pavement leading to the main entrance of the house, he sees your car in its usual parking spot and places his directly behind it. With a sturdy twist of the metal key in the ignition, the rumble of the engine dies down, leaving him to collect himself in the still silence.

He gets out of the car, taking calculated steps as he approaches the double doors of the entry, apprehension swirling around him as he suspects that his untimely arrival will not go over well with you. His ears catch the faint rise and fall of music as he steps inside, quietly sealing the door shut. Slowly carrying on down the hallway, timidly walking past the threshold of the dining room, he is greeted by the upward flick of your gaze over the rim of a glass of wine—cold and distant. Without breaking eye contact, you chug the last remnants of the intoxicating potion before firmly setting the glass down.

“Happy anniversary. Glad you could join me.” Between your sarcastic remark and the displeased expression, he’s wary that he might not be able to recover easily from this one tonight.

“Baby, please don’t be like that. I’m really sorry. I ran into some trouble at the studio and lost track of time.” He offers his regret as he takes in the elegant layout you put effort into, left abandoned by his lack of show for the event. A twinge of guilt twists inside him.

“Save it. I’m really not in the mood to hear any excuses. You swore you’d make it, and you didn’t. Again. Simple as that,” you mutter with contempt as you move to grab the plates of untouched food, your heels clicking briskly as you make your way towards the kitchen.

From the wine you had been downing these past hours, to finally hitting a breaking point from the repeated absences from Michael, you let your frustrations flow freely for the first time. He’s taken aback by the bluntness of it, and although his contrition is strong, he feels a growing urge to defend himself as he trails behind you.

"Yes, I know I promised, and I wanted to be here with you today more than anything. But with everything I’ve had to do to get this album ready, I have a lot on my plate. I don’t think you’re being fair to me. It's not like I did this on purpose.”

His response only irks you more as you scrape the wasted meal into the trash bin. From his attempt to justify his actions to the fruits of your labor being overlooked, your tip-toe around full on confrontation has come to an end. With a heavy toss of the plates into the sink, not caring if they broke from the force, you sharply turned around, vitriol, tinted with liquid courage, pouring from your lips.

“No, what’s not fair is for you to leave me sitting here like a damn fool for three hours, and on top of that, not even call me to let me know where the hell you are!” 

Michael has never heard you yell like this before. In fact, during this whole two-year relationship, you’ve never once had a serious argument. Small disagreements that were resolved so fast you both hardly remembered what you were upset over? Yes. But full-blown, furious disputes had never found their way between you. However, there’s a first time for everything. 

"Look, honestly, it just slipped my mind, okay?! You have no idea how bad my day has been. Can’t you just hear me out? I don’t know why you’re giving me such a hard time all of a sudden.”

He finds himself gradually raising his volume as well. Despite his plea, his fortified reflex drives his actions, clouding the more rational approach of trying to wind down this heated energy between you instead of fanning its flames. And you’re ready to throw back just as much fire.

“Because I’m fed up with you not being here! I have been for a while now. And I’m busy too, Michael. My job is high maintenance, but I still show up for us. It feels like you're not even trying to do that!” 

Deep down, you knew that wasn't a fair or honest stance to take. Yes, you put in many more hours than most, plus the mental muscle necessary for your job was hefty. But Michael’s career required even more of him to succeed. Truthfully, you just wanted him to feel the same hurt you were feeling. And as the anger in his gaze momentarily wavers into something dejected, you were certain it worked.

“I am trying! If I wasn’t, I’d still be working instead of standing here right now.” There’s a slight quiver in his exasperation as he feels his worst suspicions coming true—he had let you in, and finally, it had become too much for you to bear.

“Well, what do you expect me to make of it, huh?! I’ve been very lenient all the times you’ve failed to show up—a full year, Michael. And now, this one time I desperately ask you to be here, you can't even do it!” You exclaim as you feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill. Somehow, you are able to uphold an unshaken demeanor of hostility.

You don’t know exactly where this shouting match is taking you, but you weren’t betting on the cruel grin that takes over Michael’s face as he lets out a bitter cackle. Though, it’s quickly replaced by a scowl that shoots daggers through you. 

“Right. So, I’m just a terrible boyfriend who always forgets about you? When we got together, you knew how demanding my life was. I can’t change that. And you said you understood, but it doesn’t seem like that anymore. If it’s not something you can handle, what are you still here for?!”

There's an uncomfortable silence that settles in the air before the unmistakable sound of a sniffle breaks it. He immediately wishes he could take his words back as he watches the tears brimming your eyes begin to trickle down your face.

“You know what?! Fine! Maybe I’ll leave then!” Your voice cracks as you exit the kitchen with a hurried stride, heading toward your shared bedroom—more accurately, your shared suite—to retrieve what you’ll need for your departure.

Hot on your tail, he’s following you up the path winding stairs, shame and dread brewing in his conscience as he takes your declaration as an act of permanence. Contrarily, you were just heading back to your apartment in the city for a while to cool off. He feels foolish for ruining the evening and the proposal he had planned, sullied by his own vexations and rash need to have the last word. And the thought of this possibly being the end of your relationship has sent him spiraling.

“Wait, that’s—that’s not what I meant.” A desperate attempt at an explanation to backtrack your decision comes tumbling from his mouth, but you are done listening as you barge through the door, determined to get away from him.

“Well you certainly said it, so you must have meant it.” Your vacant tone pulls at his heart, knowing that you’re shutting him out now. Still, with an earnest plea as he watches you shuffle around inside the dresser trying to locate something, he attempts to get through to you.

“No, I just—can you stop and listen to me for a second?!” He soon finds out what you were looking for—the silver glare of your car keys dangles from your manicured fingers. No, no, no. This is not how the night was supposed to go. 

“I’ve already heard enough from you.” Your assertion leaves no space for bargaining as you turn to exit the bedroom, but Michael is towering over you with brooding eyes before you can take another step. Swiftly, he yanks the keys right out of your hand.

“You’re not leaving me.” He can’t lose you. Not like this. With firm conviction, he is hell-bent on not letting you set foot outside of this room. Aggravated by his antics, you try to grab the keys, but he just moves them farther from your reach. Like a childish game, he extends his arm higher and higher away from you as you stand on your tiptoes, pressed flush against him and struggling to retrieve the metal object.

“Michael, give me my keys back! Now!” You exclaim with heightened annoyance, slightly stumbling over your feet as he roughly pulls away from you, walking towards the glass doors of the balcony. He wouldn’t dare…

“I said you’re not leaving, dammit!” You watch, mortified, as he twists the golden handle to open the door before tossing the keys two stories down to get lost in the flower bed beneath, not even bothering to close it before he turns back around. Both breathing heavily from the exertion of your previous scuffle, you exchange a hard stare down from a distance.

“What…THE FUCK is your problem?!” You shriek incredulously as he just stands there, glowering and not saying a word. Shaking your head in disbelief, you once again move to exit the suite—this time, to search for your keys—but startlingly, Michael makes fast strides in your direction. Before you can register what’s happening, he seizes your wrists tightly, pushing you until your back is pressed to the mural-painted surface of the wall.

Both puzzled and shaken by the impact of it, you’re ready to protest this strange action, but are quickly interrupted as the sudden crash of his lips to yours cuts you off. Wide-eyed with surprise and unable to break free from his vice-like grip, the vigorous motions of his mouth forces yours to do the same.

As your eyelids reluctantly start to flutter shut, getting lost in the sensation, Michael abruptly tears from the kiss before you fully cave in. Curiously, you watch as he walks over to the bedroom door and shuts it—the snap of the lock setting in place rings through the hushed space.

His eyes are darkened with a new aura as he prowls back toward you—something fervent and burning. Suspense looms over you once he fully approaches, simply standing with his intense gaze sauntering over your flustered form. Clearly consumed by his thoughts, his close inspection leaves you wondering what’s about to happen. That uncertainty is shattered by a low command that has heat stirring inside of you.

“Take your panties off.”

“Are you seriously trying to-” stunned at the vulgar statement, you start to question him, but are silenced by the sharp slap of his hand on your behind.

“Do it right now. Don’t make me repeat myself.” The gruff command leaves no room for debate as he moves back, giving you just enough space to maneuver out of them. Though it takes you a moment to adjust from the initial shock of his harsh touch, you timidly do as he says.

The lacey undergarment slides down your legs with ease, briefly snagging on the rhinestone accents of your blue heels before laying crumpled on the floor. Slightly kicking them out of the way, you watch with anticipation as Michael hastily unzips his leather jacket, casting it aside without concern for where it landed.

He pounces back on you, meshing your lips together with fluid, eager movements that make your heart race. With just as much longing, your fingers tangle into the loose locks of his hair as your tongues become entwined through desperate pants into each other’s mouths. His usual note of cinnamon, warm and sweet, dances on your taste buds, drawing you in more. With excitement heightened by this carnal entanglement, you can feel the slickness of it starting to build in your nether regions.

His kisses trace downward to the unblemished expanse of your neck where he begins to etch dark bruises, causing soft whimpers to fall from your lips. At the same time, his hands deftly shift the sparkly fabric of your dress up higher until the skirt crumples around your waist.

“Hold this up for me.” He whispers softly, pulling away from the marks he’s painted into your skin—a canvas stained with burning desire. Obediently, your hands clumsily bunch up the coarse, lurex material as your core aches with need and expectation.

Once he’s sure your grip is secure, he impatiently falls to his knees, draping your right leg over his shoulder and grabbing hold of your hip to keep you steady. You gasp as his mouth now sears welts into your thigh, sucking and biting at the flesh with urgency as he inches closer and closer to where you crave him most.

His breath fans hotly over you wet folds before you feel him take a broad, firm lick over the surface. He prods farther, parting your lips to swipe directly at your slit, languidly moving his tongue up and down to collect your honeyed nectar. Carrying on like this for a while, muscle deliberately stroking along the strip of your womanhood, the erotic mixture of his saliva and your arousal making the movements smoother, he soon hones his attention onto your throbbing pearl.

Your breath deepens as he flicks and circles it at a steady pace, only using the tip of his tongue for the assault. And while the feeling is wonderful, it doesn’t do enough to soothe the pain deep within you. With hips canting upward, you try to get more of him, but he pulls back to deliver another hard smack to your backside. With a yelp, you jolt at the sting, looking down at him with longing and frustration.

“You’re only getting what I decide to give you. Understand?” He questions with blown out eyes. You’re both intimidated and thrilled by the wild intensity in them. You nod your head stiffly, swallowing to alleviate the dryness in your throat, but you take that’s not the response he was looking for as he slaps your behind again, much more powerful than the last. With eyes clenched, you grit your teeth from the lingering bite of it.

“I wanna hear you say it.” His stern declaration sizzles in the space between you, thick with tension, waiting for you to give a proper answer. Slightly quivering at the weighted feel of the atmosphere, you utter with avid compliance;

“Yes, I understand.” Although quiet, it is satisfactory enough for Michael as he delves back into your warmth, resuming his manipulations. The pressure continues to leave you just teetering on the precipice of what you seek. You have to concentrate to restrain yourself from moving your hips again. Sensing your struggle to hold back, the rigidity in your limbs is obvious as you now release more constrained breaths, he fully envelops your bud into his mouth in an act of mercy.

As he builds the intensity of his motions with harder laps of his tongue and the harsher suction of his lips, he is practically making out with the drenched bundle of nerves. Finally getting what you yearned for, wanton moans climb from your throat freely as your body begins to slacken against the wall, swept away in this pleasant feeling.

Your soft, pleasured utterances fall upon Michael’s ears like a sweet symphony—high and melodious. His length is straining in the tight confinement of his pants, begging to be freed as the sugared and earthy scent and taste of your sex fills his senses.

With eyes peering up, he hungrily takes in the state of your form: the rapid rise and fall of your chest with each inhale you take, eyes shut, furrowed brows and mouth agape in blissed-out desire. The elegant bun your hair was neatly pulled back into has somehow come undone in the midst of this interaction, now flowing over your shoulders. God, you’re so beautiful like this. The salacious sight sets him ablaze, making him more zealous in having you fall apart for him.

The plush skin of your thighs curve over his fingers, grip squeezing firmer and opening you more as the fluctuations of his mouth become more vigorous, devouring you until he’s drooling on your sopped and weeping petals. In embarrassment and sweltering lust, heat rises to your cheeks at the slick and tacky sounds of his mouth passionately unwinding you.

The ravenous motions of his tongue against your clit causes your walls to deeply throb, sending a new wave of your essence to mix with the messy concoction between your legs. As Michael can feel the dribble of it streaming down his chin, he moves his thumb to continue the work on your button while shifting his head to take greedy laps at the dripping source, reveling in the taste of you.

As his tongue swirls and plunges deeper inside of you, he comes to the delightful realization that he would die happily here—face basking in the warm paradise of your love, drinking down the sweet waters of your orchid. Getting lost in these elysian pleasures through tender ministrations and fervid caresses.

“Michael, I’m so close!” You wail through needy cries as you feel the muscles in your pelvis beginning to be pulled taut. There’s hot pressure growing in your lower belly with the wish for release. The fibrous cloth of your dress itches your skin as your clammy hands struggle to hold it up, trembling as you can feel the force in you, building unbearably.

Michael groans enthusiastically into your core at the gratifying revelation, gripping your hips even tighter, intent on making you come undone on his tongue. The rumble of it vibrates deliciously against your lady bits, bringing you even closer to your peak when instantly, his mouth is surrounding your whole mound with loud, eager slurps, loosening his jaw to take more of you in.

And as he hotly consumes your sensitive parts, you’re finally granted that explosive release you’ve been waiting for. Uncontrollably, ardent moans tumble over your lips as the tension in your walls spasms without reserve, sending bright tingles of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body.

Michael drinks your pleasured sounds and the sap of your orgasm with elation as he can feel his own organ twitching with excitement behind the barrier of his briefs. Slowly, as you come down from the rush of it, gasping for air, he pulls away to examine the results of his work—you’re enticingly engorged and soaking. With a more delicate touch, he brushes featherlight kisses to the inflamed hues on your thigh before gingerly removing it from its place on his shoulder.

Rising eagerly, he brings you into another searing kiss. Although, the movements are slow and relaxed as he takes his time letting you taste yourself on his mouth. As his lips flow languidly against yours, sinking into the warmth of your embrace as you let go of your gown to wrap your arms around him, you both have a quiet understanding that you’re attempting to make amends for the hurtful things said and expressed during your earlier clash.

When you both slowly part from the kiss, the amorous, yet reverent stare he fixates on you with those deep, soulful eyes sets your heart aglow with a tender longing. Delicately, you lift your hand to cradle the side of his face, stroking the smooth skin with affection. His eyelids close in comfort, nuzzling into it as his lips gently peck at your palm.

Softly grabbing your wrist to break the contact, he sets your arm down, quietly stepping back while maintaining his gaze. His hands move downward to unbutton his shirt, fingers tactfully untangling the brass knobs from the red article of clothing. His expectant stare calls for you to follow his lead.

The plunge back making of your dress causes the sleeves to glide down your shoulders with little to no resistance, unveiling your bare chest to the cool, night air the open window lets in, causing your nipples to stiffen up. The textile plummets to your feet where you shuffle it aside, kicking your heels along after. With added effort, Michael eventually disrobes himself entirely of his leather and buckled garments, leaving him nude and just as exposed as you are.

Your pupils dilate as you take in the gorgeous sight of your boyfriend. The olive contours of his lean physique are illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. Your vision moves along the faintly defined muscles of his chest and torso, down to the neat trimming of his pubes, until they land on his impressive member, hanging proudly between his toned thighs and scattered with a constellation of vitiligo markings.

With hands trembling in inclination, you reach out to pull him back to you. This time, you’re the one to initiate the passionate dance of your lips. You feel him shudder, whimpering into your mouth as you firmly grasp his thick appendage, stroking it with purposeful motions. Pushing the skin back to circle your finger around his slit, a dribble of precum glides down, smoothly aiding the up and down caress of your hand to the velvety surface of his length.

Once stiffened to full capacity, he moves your hand to take hold of himself, placing the tip between your drenched lower lips, dragging it through the slick blendings of your previous foreplay. Leisurely, he rubs through your folds at a steady pace to liberally lubricate his girth before you feel the head gently breaching your entrance.

With breath fluttering into your neck as his head rests on your shoulder, he’s slowly inching into your awaiting canal. You feel slight discomfort at the burn of his width stretching you tremendously, but you do your best to relax the muscles, inviting him deeper into you. Finally, you’re stuffed full of him with his pelvis pressed flush to yours.

He peppers light kisses onto your throat, lifting your left leg up with a secure hold to cozily lay on his hip. And then, he begins to move with a slow, steady rhythm, pulling out all the way to the tip before delving back into you. By the slight grimace on your face, he can tell that you need more time to adjust to his size. But the slick, warm grip of your tight walls has him biting his lip in resistance, struggling to hold back the need to thoroughly ravage you.

Finally, he hears it. You let out small, pleasured sounds as he’s succeeded in fully loosening you up for him. The pain has been ebbed away into dazzling sparks of pleasure as you angle yourself upward to take him in deeper. With that queue, Michael gradually breaks from the slow tempo until he is rapidly driving into you, no longer able to contain himself.

Losing yourself in the feeling, desperate moans begin to fall from your lips in staccato with each powerful thrust he delivers to your watering core. Panting and groaning just as loudly, his nails dig crescent-shaped imprints where he grips your thigh, stroking into you relentlessly. Your own carve long, red scratches into his back, being overwhelmed by the sensations taking over your body as he hits your walls in just the right way.

“Damn, you feel amazing.” He speaks lowly through shallow breaths against your collarbone, hips continuing at a dizzying rate as he gets sucked farther into your wet and fleshy opening.

“S-So do you.” You barely are able to get the words out. The dizzying way he pummels your walls has heat stirring beneath your bladder. Blood rushes to all of your erogenous zones, heightening their sensitivity, begging to be touched. One hand rises to the aching buds of your breast while the other heads down to rub at the one between your legs, but Michael pulls back to quickly swat them away.

“Baby, please! It’s not enough.” You let out in agony, desperate to have those extra flares of stimulation. Discontented at being prohibited from it, you feel tears of frustration stinging your eyes. She’s so needy. Michael thinks to himself with amusement as he takes in your expression.

“Yeah? You want more?” The teasing tone of his question, paired with the lazy smile his lips are curved into screams of devious intentions. You’re unsure of what he has up his sleeve, but you hope it’s something that puts an end to your suffering.

“Yes!” You gasp out as he has now decreased his speed to deliver slow, long thrusts, stimulating you in a new and electrifying way as you can more distinctly feel him brushing against every ridge inside of you.

“Okay, I’ll give you more.” He stops his movements entirely to hoist your other leg around his hip, suspending you in the air. Quickly, you scramble to wrap your arms around his neck and lock your ankles to keep from falling. Just as soon as you are situated, once he’s certain his hold on you won’t slip, his hips begin to snap upward rapidly, hitting deeper and pressing right to that spot that has you keening with ecstasy. 

“Oh, fuck!” The hammering force of his strokes are so powerful that it has you roughly sliding up and down the wall. Your brace your legs tighter around his waist, unintentionally pulling him deeper into you. The lewd slaps of skin on skin, paired with the untamed moans and groans of rapture that rise from within your chests, echo pornographically off the walls of this ample suite.

His lips travel from your neck, down the swell of your breast where he takes your nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling it with fervor. While not fully sure if he means to or not, his pelvis rubs delightfully against your clit from the way he grinds you, giving you the relief you were after. He drifts his oral manipulations to the other breast, making sure it receives the same treatment.

With a wet pop, your tit falls from his mouth as he lifts up to press his forehead to yours. And then, he does something that has you nearly floundering out of his hold, not knowing how to handle this heightened pleasure that has jolts of electricity shooting up your spine.

Lightly undoing the lock you have around his waist, his arms allow the back of your kneecaps to rest on either side of him, causing you feet to dangle freely. In tandem, his arms mount you up to the tip of his erection, before dropping you back down all the way to the hilt with smooth thrusts meeting the falling motion. He does this over and over again until the stimulation of it buzzes in your nerves like static.

As wanton cries spill from your lips, back arching to take in more of his wild loving, he offers a smug question; “You like that?” 

“Oh God, yes!” It breathily rushes out as his hips are angled just perfectly to abuse the sensitive, spongy bump that lies on the upper part of your walls. 

“I know you do. No one else can do your body like this, baby. Only I can.” He seduces huskily, breath fanning warmly against your mouth as he pulls you into a brief, yet searing kiss before moving to lick and bite at your neck.

Everything is steamy, slick and wet between you. A thin sheen of sweat coats your bodies, causing a light glisten to waver off of your gyrating forms. The mixture of your heady arousals strings off of him like gooey webs when he pulls out, acting as a glue that sticks you together as he slides all the way back in. It pools around where you two are joined, dripping onto the ground as more from each of you overflows.

And as he melts back into you, over and over again, you let out sounds that gradually expand in octave as the friction of him rubs you in a blissfully disorienting way. That hot and familiar coil in your gut is starting to wind tight, waiting to be snapped free. He lets out his own pleasured noises against the shell of your ear as he feels his own release building, eager to spill out. And from the way you clench around him, he can tell that you’re nearing your climax as well.

But somewhere beneath these carnal sensations, lies an inkling of distress in Michael that once this is over, it may also be the end of you two. The worry has vulnerability pouring through his words as he says;

“Tell me you won’t go anywhere.” The tone pulls at your heartstrings as you feel him press a delicate kiss just below your jaw—a silent request for compromise. You lean into the mild touch as your arms squeeze tighter around his neck. You feel his heart beating sporadically as his chest lies atop of yours.

“I won’t go anywhere, Michael. Ever.” Full of devotion, the words pass your lips, holding him closer to you as he litters more affectionate kisses to your skin. 

“Tell me you love me.” He whispers against your cheek, hopefully awaiting your response. Much like the storm of passionate emotions raging within him, he rolls into you with frenzy as he can feel an orgasm steadily approaching, setting his loins aflame.

“I do… I love you so much.” The declaration comes out in a desperate sigh, spoken against his lips resting on the corner of yours. He delivers a delicate kiss to it—a stark contrast to the wild way he works your body.

“You gonna cum?” Michael’s question rings in the air with eager expectation, wanting to feel you come apart on him. And from the way you’re constricting around him, he knows you're getting ready to.

“Yes, yes, yes…” You chant in a daze as you feel the simmer of your release starting to bloom with heat deep within your walls. 

“Go on, girl. Give it to me.” The raspy command has you gripping him tighter, crying out as your canal overflows, showering Michael’s groin with the rains of your earth-shattering crest. The waves ride out within you, currents of electricity shooting up from your pelvis, to your chest and spreading outward to every extremity of your body. You lean back limply against the wall, basking in the feeling.

As you descend from euphoria, Michael’s thrusts continue, rubbing you into overstimulation. However, you make no complaints as his hips start to stutter their movements, signifying that he is on the cusp of his own climax.

And as he struggles to maintain his composure, the warm and gummy grip of your cunt tempting him to let go inside of you, he musters a moment of strength to pull all the way out, carefully letting you down to your feet as his hand takes over to replace your walls. 

Your ears are doused in the shlick sounds he creates with fast and smooth tugs along his length. With eyes closed and face furled up in concentrated bliss, his mouth hangs ajar, emitting high, breathy moans as sweat beads down his brow. You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed something so beautiful, yet so erotic in all of your life. 

Finally, with back bowed and fist clenched beside your head, his load shoots out of him in heavy spurts, coating his fingers and landing on your lower abdomen. He continues to stroke himself until every last drop has been squeezed out and his erection has died down before collapsing into your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist.

As you both use this moment to catch your breaths, your hands lift to gently stroke his head, curling the locks around your fingers, as he places a faint, yet lingering kiss over your heart, shifting the atmosphere into something soft and affectionate. You remain this way for a while, silently marinating in the calm of each other’s presence, before Michael rises from your chest to lay a light peck on your cheek.

“Wait right here.” He whispers it into your skin, pulling away to disappear into the bathroom, switching the lights on. It sends rays of yellow beaming across the floor, bringing some brightness to your dim surroundings. Your ears pick up the distant downpour of water from the shower running as Michael emerges back into view, walking over to carefully scoop you into his arms, taking you both to get cleaned up.

The calming scent of lavender permeates through the humid space, refreshing waters cascading down your bodies as your hands tactfully assist each other in washing away the remnants of your love making. Though you don’t speak as you go through the motions of bathing, the quiet between you is peaceful. The care with which you attend to each other conveys the love you are feeling.

Soon, you both find yourselves half dressed, Michael in his standard pair of briefs and you clad in a pale night slip, laying in the plush and spacious comfort of his king size bed. Your fingers idly twiddle with each other as you lie face to face, not having said a word yet, though there is a growing urge for someone to do so. Coincidentally, you both break the silence with an uttered ‘I’m sorry,’ at the same time. Staring at each other, you wait for one of you to carry on with what you want to say.

“Let me start.” You take the initiative to speak first, the satin sheets sliding off of you as you sit up to gather your thoughts.

“I’m sorry for how I acted tonight. I’ve always admired how dedicated you are to your career. It’s just that, I’ve been so lonely without you this past year… I guess I just lost my cool from not saying anything about it for so long.” You say in a small voice, now feeling embarrassed for your earlier outburst. Michael holds a solemn expression as you reveal to him what you’ve been holding back on, his thumb ghosting over the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

“No, I should have been here to celebrate with you. I know it’s been a lot to deal with, me being gone all the time, but I never knew you were struggling with it this much. Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” He questions with a tone full of concern. Weighing on him like a great failure, he feels upset with himself for not truly knowing the extent of the suffering you’d been dealing with.

“Your work means so much to you, Michael… I didn’t want to get in the way of that.” You mumble the last part so small that he almost didn’t hear it, but when it registers, his fingers delicately grip your chin, turning you head upwards to be eye to eye with him.

“You could never do that, angel. You’re important to me too, and I want you to let me know when things are difficult for you. Don’t ever feel like your worries are a burden to me.” He proclaims in a soft, yet vehement manner, lighting your heart aglow with adoration.

Internally, Michael feels a deep settling nervousness as he decides whether or not to state his next words. But in keeping his troubles from you, that would be hypocritical to his previous declaration. With that reasoning, albeit a murmur, he’s saying them before he loses the strength to.

“When you told me you were leaving, I couldn’t handle it. I never wanted you to know, but I think it’s best you do… I get scared sometime. Scared that you won’t stay with me. That what I do, who I am—it’ll be too much for you and one of these days, I’ll come home and you won’t be here.” 

As a lone tear rolls down his cheek from the forlorn statement, you swiftly pull him into a tight embrace. Rubbing gentle circles on his back while he quietly weeps into your neck, regret fills you as you realize that you failed to even consider that he was being tormented by such doubtful beliefs.

“Oh, Michael… After all this time, don’t you understand that I’m not going anywhere?” You say as you move him to face you once again, wiping away the wet streaks that stain his face.

“You should know by now that you can’t get rid of me that easily.” It’s spoken with a light lilt of mirth to lift the mood, to which Michael offers a weak smile that fades just as quickly.

“Well, what about what you said tonight?” Raking through your brain, you scan to recall what he is talking about. It finally hits you that he mistook your ‘I’m leaving’ as an ‘I’m leaving for good.’

“Wait, did you think I was talking about forever?” It shouldn’t be funny, but the fact that he had such a big reaction over a minor misinterpretation of words has you stifling a laugh.

 “...Weren’t you?” He asks with genuine confusion, looking at you with a pouty expression that you find so adorable, you can’t help but crack, giggling at the hilarity of it.

“Hahaha! No, baby. I just needed to clear my head for a bit… I’ll always come back to you.” Your laughter gradually fades into a tender utterance as you lovingly gaze into his gentle eyes while caressing his face. A bashful grin stretches across his lips, also finding humor in what transpired due to the misunderstanding. Still, there is a crucial, unresolved aspect of the night that keeps him on edge.

“I can’t believe the night turned out so bad.” He mutters, thinking about how the sole thing he wanted to accomplish this evening was squandered by the fight.

“Well, I’d say we definitely made up for it with something else...” You lightly muse, but it’s hardly noticed as Michael seems to be intensely absorbed in his thoughts.

“No, it wasn’t just the anniversary…” Contemplation pulls at his mind like a match of tug-of-war. Should he seize the moment and go forth with his plan right now, before he loses the courage to, or wait for another day to prepare more and make the event better thought out and more special?

“I’m…not catching on. What are you talking about?” There’s something unreadable in his stare that has you growing puzzled. It only increases as Michael gets up from the bed, going to where his clothes are strewn on the floor, fishing out his leather jacket before removing something from one of the unzipped pockets. What’s he up to? 

Michael takes one last look at the velvet box, mind set on going through with the proposal, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he treks back to you, each step seeming to span for an eternity with all the overwhelming emotions swirling inside of him. He comes around to your side of the bed, gently shifting your legs over the edge so you can see him better.

Much to your confusion, you’re about to ask him what’s going on, but the words quickly get trapped in your throat with astonishment as he drops down to one knee. Is he getting ready to do what I think he is? Your wonder is confirmed by what he nervously verbalizes next;

“In the two years you’ve been in my life, you’ve become my everything. I never knew it was possible to be so in tune, so connected with another person, until I met you. Now, I can’t imagine spending a single day without you by my side. My love for you is infinite, and I want to share that infinity with you. So… would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

He pops open the box, revealing a beautiful, gold Art Deco-style ring adorned with white and emerald diamonds. Heart pounding in your chest with joy, you’re so excited and in disbelief that you almost can’t speak. Somehow, you manage to rush out a small whispered ‘yes,’ as your answer.

“You will?” Michael’s eyes lighten up as you start to nod exuberantly with a radiant smile on your face, dropping down to join him on the floor.

“Yes, Michael! Of course I will!” You warble out, being overcome by exhilaration as his own hand shakily slides the shimmering jewelry onto your finger, wrapping his arms securely around you for a hug full of relief. And now, you're crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time.

“I just got you that Mickey Mouse watch you’ve been raving about. I guess it kind of pales in comparison to your gift,” you let out a watery laugh as joyful tears flow freely. Giggling at your remark and just as elated, he eases his firm hold on you to pull you into a swooning kiss.

Giddily, Michael starts to plant smooches all over your face, which you giggle at and try to bat away the ticklish feeling. Though, he abruptly pauses his affections to give voice to something you had almost forgotten.

“Oh! And, uh… sorry about your keys, by the way.” He offers sheepishly, feeling that the earlier action was a bit theatrical.

“That’s okay, sweetie. You’re definitely looking for them by yourself tomorrow, though,” you lightly jest, not even really concerned about it. And as you nuzzle back into Michael, squeezing him tightly, those terms are more than fine with him.

Note: Credits to @cafekitsune for the divider. Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, likes and reblogs would be appreciated :)

mentions: @mjfavgirlie2006 @h4rtz-f0r-lm @thatoneliberiangirl

@tsunderesheepme @st4rwild @local-she-wolf @kenzie2cool4u @kpopfan-03 @joyboxx88 @marionnas-world @dollika2w8 @margeoww @xgrisleyx @callingallbaddies @moonwalkerdiana

© All Rights Reserved

Something Is Not Right With Me

Summary: Since his bloodstained encounter one fall evening, Michael has been wrapped in an ever-growing shroud of peculiar behavior. When he runs out of gas on your date night, stranding you in the inky stillness of nowhere, the full moon slips out of hiding, unveiling secrets that flip the evening from a simple fail to a shocking fright...

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Era: Thriller

Setting: Indiana. Autumn of 1957

Category & Warnings: horror, mentions of blood, smut (mild), masterbation (m! receiving)

Word count: 4,522

Note: This oneshot is a continuation of the film at the beginning of Thriller. Both reader and Michael are 18. Re-edited to tweak some things and to correct the em-dashes. Anywho, enjoy! :)

Something is not right with me!

How was I supposed to know?

. . . 

Something is not right with me! 

Tryin’ not to let it show!

The white Chevrolet halts to a stop as the engine turns off, surrounding the young couple with the mysterious sounds of the night. A frigid breeze sweeps through the heavy layer of oak trees laying on each side of the winding road. The fissle of it dances in your ears, brushing against the skin of your sleeveless arms and sending a chill up your body.

The constant chirp of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl, symphonies that otherwise would be relaxing, were the only sounds that could be heard in the still, quiet of the woods—a daunting reminder of being stuck in the middle of nowhere. Though slightly anxious at the gloomy atmosphere, your worry eases by the reminder of the handsome and caring boy you have by your side.

Since you transferred schools last spring during your junior year, you had been crushing hard on Michael, but never had the courage to make any advances. Nearly every girl in school swooned over him—the captain of the football team—his popularity and good looks were irresistible. Between you both in some of the few classes you shared, there was the occasional, friendly conversation over assignments or the fleeting exchange of a greeting in the hallway.

You reminisce over the scent of oranges, cinnamon and cedar always swirling around him, intoxicatingly sweet yet manly. And though your discussions flowed nicely, it was not enough to convince you of the possibility of him ever having any feelings for you. And with that belief, you remained merely another admirer amongst the rest on campus. What you didn’t know was that Michael had been interested in you as well. That is, until the day he approached you at your locker. 

“Hey, I wanted to let you know that I really like talkin’ to ya, and I’ve thought you were beautiful since the first day I saw you sittin’ in Mrs. Kelly’s class. I was wonderin’ if maybe you and I could go out sometime? How’s this Friday?” His accent drawls out smoothly from his supple lips, kind eyes staring intently into yours. He stood there, nearly towering over you, red varsity jacket fitted attractively over his broad shoulders and hands tucked casually into his jean pockets as he waited for your response. Despite his collected demeanor, he was a ball of nerves internally, fearing you would reject him.

Stunned at the request, you simply gaped for a minute that dragged on in awkward silence, entirely surprised and flattered that he approached you for a date. And how could you resist that? Finally collecting yourself, you giddily accepted the arrangement, anticipating how you would spend the evening with him. It had been nearly six months since that fateful day, and you and Michael have been going strong ever since.

Tonight, you both had agreed to go to the showing of Creature From The Black Lagoon at a drive-in theater the next town over, but he had been warning for the past 10 minutes that the tank would likely be empty before you could make it there. Seeing as the car’s not moving anymore, it seems it was no mere jest.

“Honestly, we’re out of gas!” Micahel exclaims with a charming chuckle as he takes in the inquisitive look on your face. 

“So, what are we gonna do now?” The honeyed lilt in your voice gave clear indication to Michael of what you were hinting at. Though the dense and lofty woods of Lake county were somewhat unsettling this time of evening, there was still a peaceful solitude it offered that could be used to both of your advantage. You and Michael had strictly been keeping things at first base, scandalous makeout sessions behind school bleachers and in the back of his car, but never anything past the waist.

An arched brow curled up in amusement with a slight smirk resting on his lips, you were under the impression that you both were on the same page about what would take place next… Surprisingly, and much to your disappointment, you instead find the two of you traveling on foot, trying to locate the gas station about 2 miles away from where Michael had left his car.

As you continued your stride, there was a comfortable silence that rested between you two, leaving Michael deep in questioning thought. He was sure that he filled the tank the day before this outing. Or, maybe it was three days ago? Recently, Michael found himself not being able to remember things with certainty. In fact, he’s been experiencing an array of bizarre occurrences for a while now.

It all seemed to start a few weeks ago on that fishing trip he took with his grandfather to Fox Lake. A rare and special occasion, they traveled for miles to the only one in all the state of Indiana that was welcome to black folks for vacationing. Staying out on the water for hours, they took in the vibrant hues of the autumn leaves resting gently against the fading horizon, sharing stories and memories to make themselves merry.

Night had nearly fallen by the time they headed back to shore with their catch of the day when a sudden and violent shaking amongst the bushes alerted them to caution. In an instant, Michael yelped at the sharp claws of a bobcat etching into his hand as it hopped out from hiding and swiftly disappeared back into the thicket just as rapidly as it emerged, but not before he could make out the bright, neon gleam of its yellow tinted iris. The bucket of fish tumbles from the clutch of his fingers.

“Michael! You okay, boy? Lemme look at it.” 

Grandpa Sam rushes over to his side, cradling his bloodied hand to inspect it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine ‘pa. It got me good, though.” With a wince and a slight hiss from the sting, Michael wraps a cloth tightly around the deep gash to stop the bleeding. A bumpy ride back home in the old pickup truck they came in and his mother worriedly fussing over the wound as she tended to it, Michael soon finds himself easily diving into the comfort of his bed and quickly taken by sleep. Though, it remains anything but a good rest.

First came the nightmare. Astral visions painted with crimson red, haunted by ghastly screams and wild, hideous growls. A demon or some beastly creature with an unruly coat and glowing orbs, bounding through the midwestern woodlands, in a pursuit for carnage. And the moon, full and bright, beaming in an inky and starless sky. Its glow illuminates from above, pouring down over Michael. In the waking world, this feeling would gently bathe over the skin, as faint as a phantom.

But here, it was simmering against Michael’s body, gradually getting hotter and hotter until an unyielding, searing burn gnawed at his flesh. A scorch abruptly set off inside him, as if lava had been directly injected into his veins before he found himself startled awake by his own anguished shout, body and sheets alike drenched in sweat, and panting desperately to calm the racing within his ribcage.

“I heard you screaming. Is everything alright?” His mother inquires with urgency as she barges through the door. Now more collected after a few deep breaths, Michael straightens up, directing his attention to her. 

“I just had a nightmare is all. Don’t worry. I’m alright.” Relieved to hear that nothing serious happened, she lightly instructs him to get ready for school as she finishes making breakfast before exiting the room. As he goes to stand up, the gauze that was secured around the scratches slips from his hand and to his astonishment, he's staring at a surface unblemished. 

Wide eyed and in disbelief, he flips his hand from front to back, flexing the joints experimentally, as if that would make the mark or its signifying twinge of soreness reappear. Alas, it did not and with it, he began to feel the fraying of his sanity. Ever since that night, his sleep has been disturbed by nightmares. Precisely, the same exact one over and over again.

Then came the hunger. Now, Michael has always been on the smaller side, possessing a lithe frame that most wouldn’t expect to be suitable for football, but strangely, he was one of the best players at Shortridge High. A standard 3 meals a day, prepared by the loving and kind hands of his mother, with regular exercise and training were usually enough to keep him in tip top shape for his games. 

But lately, those meals have done little to satisfy his growing appetite. His days have been filled with ravenous engorge. Popcorn bags, mini orange juice cartons and plenty of burger wrappers from Lou’s Diner up the road, all piled high in the corner of his room. And when it came dinner time, whatever protein that’s been made goes on his plate in surplus, priorly requesting of his mother to make extra.

“Michael sweetie, slow down! You don’t want to give yourself a stomach ache.” Kathrine gawked in shock and bewilderment at her son devouring the slab of steak as if he were some starved animal indulging in its first meal in months. Momentarily, he’s snapped out of his frenzied feast, awkwardly gazing up at her.

“I’m sorry, Mother. You know how much I love your cooking,” an embarrassed smile of grease-stained lips and meat-stuck teeth accompanied by a subtle moment of silence, and he’s back to eating the second steak on his plate with a calmer restraint.

As a teenage boy, of course your hormones are all over the place. Michael, understanding this, made an extra effort to keep his emotions in check and save that energy for the field where he could release it in a productive way. Sex had been something that Michael tuned out relatively well, simply because he hadn’t actually romantically pursued anyone. That is, until he started going out with you.

Adamant about being a gentleman, he made it clear that he only wanted to fully engage with you when the time was right, and so far he’s miraculously managed to abstain. But ever since that incident at the lake, he’s found himself in constant battle with these carnal desires.

Besides the nightmares, his sleep often was comprised of the vivid and lewd images of you and him. Bodies joined together, gyrating and slick with passion, your wanton cries and desperate calls of his name echoed alluringly within his mind. Consuming and greedy caresses to intimate, fleshy parts flashed enticingly behind his eyelids like a view-master reel, and he’d awaken to briefs damp with his emission, sensitive and still not satiated, craving for the real thing.

Behind the locked door of the bathroom, the recollection of your titillating noises fueled the rapid pace of his fist against himself while his other pressed firmly to his mouth, muffling the pleasured groans that spilled from his lips. Though he made an earnest effort to keep these lustful urges at bay, it was starting to become more tempting to give in.

And then there was his anger. Uncommon and newly emerged, he’d been having an increasingly difficult time grappling with it.

“Mike, chill out man! The guy didn’t mean it!” Max and Chris, Michael’s teammates and friends since grade school, attempt to dislodge his firm grip from the collar of the unnamed kid who’s clearly shaken from the ferocious glare Michael holds. A forceful bump into Michael, being too deeply immersed in the story another classmate was recounting, landed him in this current predicament.

As he gasps from the air being knocked from his lungs after being slammed against the lockers, the handle digging painfully into his spine, and gazing back into the chilling, animalistic glare of his assaulter, one that clearly screamed of intense rage and intent to murder, he wishes he would’ve been paying attention before. After what felt like an eternity, Michael breaks his look away for a brief glance in the direction of his friends, reluctantly releasing hold of his polo shirt.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going next time,” a gruff warning is cast in the quaking boy’s direction as Michael storms out of the locker room. And though his thoughts were veiled with an underlying puzzlement as to why he reacted so explosively, he was still seething too much to even fully acknowledge it.

“What the hell’s the matter with him?” 

All three boys stand and stare dumbfounded as the blue door slams behind Michael with a resounding thud. As he paces across the field, his rage riddled mind settles deep in ponderment, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was happening to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” gently grabbing hold of his arm and offering your sincere apology, Michael focuses his line of sight on you before stopping and fully turning towards your direction. His voice cuts through the brief pause he takes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” You reply softly, taking in his quiet determination.

“You know I like you, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” A smile and endearing eyes focused on him, you hold on to every word with adoration.

“And I hope you like me, the way I like you.” 

“Yes.”

“I was wonderin’ if… you would be my girl?” During these months of courting as you both grew closer and closer, Michael's feelings had grown much fonder for you. He decided it was the right moment to take the next step in this relationship. 

“Oh, Michael…” you two share a warm and tight embrace, pulling apart for Michael to slip a silver promise ring onto your finger.

“It’s beautiful!” Taking in the intricate, fine details of petaled vines spiraling toward the center to a rose with a sapphire gem resting delicately in the middle of it, you feel elated that your connection had finally developed into something deeper. 

“Now, it’s official.” Michael chimes with a satisfied grin and voice filled with pride. Though in an instant, his expression turns grim.

“I have somethin’ I wanna tell ya.”

“Yes, Michael?” Staring quizzically, confused at the sudden shift of mood, you wait for him to continue.

“I’m not like other guys…” Michael's voice tinges with foreboding, contemplating if he should come clean about the strange happenings he’s been plagued with since the lake, or if he should just drop it and pretend that they don’t exist. Perhaps, you not knowing would be best for both of you. Somehow, they might disappear on their own, leaving their revelation to you futile in the end, or maybe even scaring you off, ruining what you both have.

“Of course not! That’s why I love you,” your fervent declaration pulls at his heart, anchoring the resolution he has to share these secrets with you. Still, he finds himself troubled on how to phrase it.

“No, I mean I’m different.”

“What are you talking about?” Uttering in perplexity, you begin to worry about what could possibly be the cause of the cryptic nature of Michael’s words. But before he can continue, a yelp filled with agony cracks abruptly in the space between you. Michael crouches down to the ground, doubling over as the same inferno that’s been haunting his dreams starts to set him ablaze from within.

And as he feels a terrifying shift, as if being ripped away from himself and replaced with something untamed and vicious, he is certain that the events over these past weeks are reaching a cataclysmic peak. Whatever this is, he senses if you stay near him any longer, it will have dire consequences.

“Are you alright?!” You go to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but before you even take the first step, Michael’s head whips up, startling you with the horrifying sight of citrine eyes and razor-sharp teeth.

“GO AWAY!” 

Frozen in fear, your feet plant firmly to the ground as the petrifying scene unfolds in front of you. Blood curdling screams reach your ears, soon recognized to be your own, tearing out of your throat as you watch Michael transform into something morbid and monstrous. The delicate structure of his face morphs horridly, distorting into a grotesque visage of bulging contours and wiry whiskers. His once smooth skin is replaced by coarse, silver fur and the unmistakable snap of contorting bones rings through the air as his features expand and bloodied claws push through the tips of his fingers. 

His protruding maw hangs open threateningly, lined with jagged fangs and emitting unearthly snarls that penetrate the night like a raging hellhound. Though on the contrary, his resemblance is akin to a wild cat as opposed to that of a canine. Finally regaining your senses, your legs break into a sprint towards the forest, hoping to escape the beast that was once your boyfriend in the shadowy vastness of it.

Soles pounding against the leaf-layered ground, the branches you push through tear at the purple skirt of your dress and scratch you in various places, but spiked on adrenaline and fear, you hardly notice. The full moon, backdropped by rolling, wispy clouds, is the only light offered in the ever increasing darkness of the woods as you descend deeper and deeper, getting lost in them. As its rays cast over the trees, creating silhouettes against the forest floor that waver in peculiar and unsettling ways, your pulse hammers in your ears as you find yourself failing to grasp what's real and what’s not.

Your desperate flight carries on as a ghostly howl sounds off not far behind you, spurring you to move faster to seek coverage. Once you feel you’ve reached a safe distance, you quickly take hiding behind the trunk of a towering oak, using this as an opportunity to regain your breath. 

Fingers gripping and back pressed to the rough bark, it grounds you as you adjust to the sudden calm that envelops your dim surroundings. The hush of the space brings an uneasy feeling of suspense as you notice the muffled stomps of the creature have vanished entirely.

“Ah!” You shriek as the horrendous brute leaps out from above, pouncing and knocking you to the bed of withered leaves beneath. Hovering and caging you in, it lowers until it's at eye length with you and the huff of its breath fans hotly over your face. And as it lets out a loud bellow, extended claws baring menacingly, your demise seems sealed as imminent.

With clenched eyes and pummeling heart, you brace yourself for the impact of them shredding through your flesh. But a moment passed, yet again, where everything is still. And you wonder, is this truly death? Being so caught up on the uncompromising actuality of it, that you feel nothing at all? 

Supposing the universe heard your despairing rumination to make reason of it, you feel the definite press of claws over the left side of your chest, simply resting as if to feel the rhythm there. Cautiously you pry your eyes open, intently taking in the slitted, inhuman orbs piercing through your own.

But oddly, behind them lies no malice. Instead, the tender and musing gaze of your used-to-be lover holds you captive as loud, rumbly chuffs vibrate affectionately against your form. And in this exchange between you, juxtaposing with danger and serenity, you feel as if somewhere far beyond this grisly countenance, he is reaching out to you.

“M-Michael? Are you there? Is it you?” Gingerly, your fingers inch closer and closer until they finally press flush to the cheek of this cat-like beast, silver mane tickling your skin. It reciprocates, overlapping its warm paw over the place your hand rests and letting out a series of soft, chittering purrs. Completely ensnared to each other in this moment, your resistance and distress gradually dissipate until you are only left with a deep yearning to understand this mystifying oddity before you, lost in the moonlit reflection of your eyes.

But, you are given no time as within them, gray clouds roll over, gathering to enshroud the moon, causing the creature to feel an unsteady shift inside of itself. Yowling in affliction, its paw tears away from your hand, claws catching the skin and drawing a scream from you once again with alarm restored. Somehow, you both manage to scurry from each other- you in terror and the nonhuman thing in pain.

And as you dash back into a run in the direction from whence you came, the open gash of your hand leaving a trail of blood in your path, you hear the indistinguishable shout of your boyfriend through the forest that is now almost pitch black as the moon has completely taken cover.

“Wait! Please, come back!” Wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you, you attempt to halt the progression of your steps and turn to see if Michael is really there. You are unable to confirm as you miss sight of the edge of a rock jutting out from the earth, foot seized by it as you tumble to the ground, bumping your head, and becoming consumed by a world of darkness.

Eyelids snapping open, you take in the familiar setting. Your bedroom of soft hues and ruffled accents is lightly aglow with the slivers of morning sky that seeps through the undulating curtains of your window—slightly ajar and inviting the nippy, autumn air into the space. Lifting the pink comforter from yourself and expecting to see the tattered dress from last night, you are surprised to find your form clad in your usual attire of a nylon nightgown. You adjust yourself, sitting up straight to fully take in where you are. How did you get here? 

You mull over internally for some explanation. To pinpoint a cause on what you suppose you only could have conjured up in your wildest imagination. Maybe it was stress from the upcoming end-of-semester exams you have, or that off-tasting slice of pie you ate the previous day. Lost in the introspection of your mind, you almost miss the bright ringing of the telephone on your bedside table. With a self-soothing sigh, you extend your hand to the receiver when the dazzle of a silver band graced with a sapphire stone leaves you shell-shocked, ice freezing over your bones.

The ringer thrums one final time before stopping as you fail to answer the call. Feeling as if your mind has stopped functioning while simultaneously being in overdrive, the phone sounds off again. After the third toll, you yank the receiver to your ear, muttering into the transmitter after a beat.

“...Hello?” You're gifted with nothing but the quiet breathing of whoever’s on the other side of the line, and you have a creeping suspicion to who it might be.

“...Michael?” The name drifts out in a low whisper. You then hear a tentative exhale being taken. “Yeah. It’s me.”

An abnormal feeling rests in the pit of your stomach at the sound of his voice, taken aback by the normality of it as your memory flashes back to the possessed and hellish tones that were produced in the woods. His question breaks through the thought. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“I remember everything.” The statement falls from your lips with clarity and no hesitation.

“...Is it okay if we talk in person?” He requests nervously with an obvious unease in his words.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Your chest pangs with apprehension, thoughts varying between the fear you felt last night and your desire to know the unknown. You’re not sure which one outweighs the other yet.

“Baby, please. I’m begging you. Give me a chance to explain. I promise you’ll be safe. I just need you to understand.” He pleads desperately on the other side of the phone, but you're still not sure if you are willing to take that risk.

“How can you promise me that? My hand, Michael. Do you even know what you did?” The incredulity in your voice aches Michael deeply as he rakes through his brain, attempting to spot any glimpses of what took place. But he can only recall the excruciating burn and the pale moonlight; anything else remains hazy.

“I can’t remember everyth-” 

“You can’t remember? How is that supposed to reassure me?” You cut his words short with trepidation rushing through your lips. 

“I don’t know! I can’t remember! I don’t know what I was. I’m not even sure I know what I am anymore. But whatever happened, you have to know that I am so sorry, and that I would never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. I-I need you to hear me out. Please. Baby, it’s me. It’s Michael… Can you just trust me?” The quiver and break of his voice he tries his best to hold in reaches your ears. You feel the strain on your soul as you hear him clearly hurting and confused. Though your skeptical concern still persists, you can’t bear the thought of him dealing with this torment alone.

“...Okay. But I’ll only do it if we go somewhere public.” Your stalled yet willing answer gives Michael a sense of hope and relief. Even though he’s slightly disappointed, he understands your wary disposition. Therefore, he quickly casts the feeling aside, mustering up the best response he can.

“Of course, of course. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I’m headin’ over right now, so be ready in 15 minutes… I love you.”

“I love you too, Michael.” Albeit a small murmuring, you declare it with absolute devotion, soothing his underlying doubt that you no longer felt the same. The conversation ends by the small clack of the receiver against the switch hook, leaving you to simply settle into the stillness of your room, lost in raking over the events of the night before. Panic faintly remains, but you are mostly filled with curious wonder. As you marinate in the mixed sensations and emotions of that unnatural interaction, you think back to the sentimental moment the two of you shared on the earthy ground.

It somewhat subdues the anxiety and confliction you feel as you are reminded of the gentleness you were handled with. Despite the frightening exterior, you can still feel the lingering warmth of its benign touch and the adoring expression it held towards you. Michael’s struggle between beast and man was unequivocal, but you were certain that your affection for him mirrored the same. And though you were still having trouble wrapping your head around the reality of this situation, you were determined to hold the fortitude needed to navigate through it together.

With a sudden shiver, pulling you away from your inner dwellings, a particularly frigid gust of wind blows through your open window. Rising slowly, you shuffle across the room to pull it shut. Placing both palms on the sash, you seal the gap from letting in anymore of the biting air from outside. But as you look down, you are dismayed to see that the wound on your right hand is nowhere to be found.

Note: Thank you for reading and I hope it was enjoyable :) credits to @cafekitsune and @we-die-like-fools for the dividers.

mentions: @mjfavgirlie2006 @mjsgirlie04 @moonwalkerdiana

© All Rights Reserved