King of Pop, Queen of the People
Michael Jackson x Princess Diana
Sweat drips onto the polished floor. Michael looks out at the empty crowd, at the seat that one day Diana would be sitting in. He would have stopped practising by now, but he couldn't.
Tonight, he would meet her, and she would watch him perform, with her incompetent husband beside her. He needed to be perfect. He needed to be better than perfect; he needed to be the only thing she could see.
She was so excited she couldn't sleep; it was like she was a little kid again. Diana would never tell anyone, but she has his poster on the wall. His songs play in her ears when she runs, and when she touches herself, she hears a voice in her ear. She wondered how his voice would sound when he was standing in front of her. What would he wear?
It was almost too much to see hi min person, it was like starting straight at the sun. With every step she took towards him, she felt her blood pupping faster in the veins,it was like everything disapread exepect for the man infront of her.
He didn't miss how Diana's eyes lit up the second she saw him; it wouldn't be the first time he got a reaction like this from a fan, but it would be the first time he got it from a princess.
Once their eyes met, a blush spread across her cheeks. Michela wanted to laugh. How innocent she was, a perfect mixture of beauty and purty; he couldn't tear his eyes away. He had women mob him in the streets, chase him down, and throw themselves on him. This was different; with one look, she had his heart.
The jealousy in her husband's eyes was obvious. What did you finally see what a real man looks like? How does a real man treat a woman? Michael wishes he had the strength to say it to his smug face.
Michael had heard the rumours; he treated her like shit. He wouldn't; he would treat her the way she deserved, like a princess.
He shakes her hand, his hand is so big and warm, long fingers that make her core clench.
Hse can hardly remember what she said to him as she takes her seat in the theater. Hopefully, she didn't make a bad impression.
Michael thought meeting her would help calm his nerves, but instead, it just made it so much worse. She was so beautiful, so charming, she certainly earned her nickname.
His drive his waiting when she leaves the theater. She's still buzzing from head to toe. She can't think straight.
As the driver leads her to the backseat, she wonders if her husband will even notice she's gone, probably not.
She slips off into the night, in the same outfit she picked out this morning, thinking of him.
The hotel is nice, but she hardly registers it; she has never done anything like this in her life.
He looks gorgeous, ethereal. He is almost heartbreakingly beautiful.
They barely talk before his hands are all over her, wrapped up in her hair, cradling her head with just enough pressure to make her knees weak. They hardly need to, though. There will be time for that later, but now, it was time for action
Her head spins as he pushes her down on the bed. When did he take her dress off? It hardly matters when Micehal goes straight for her throat, sucking on the sensitive skin.
He wanted to mark her. Michael wanted anyone who saw her to know he was hers.
He moves down to her breasts, soft and pure white, it almost makes him chuckle, he could tell from the expression on her face, this was new to her.
"I bet your husband never fucks you like this, huh? I bet he's done before you can even get started. Not with me, honey." Michael says it in a voice so low it sends shivers down her spine. Was this the same man she spoke to earlier tonight? Surely not.
He takes her nipple in his mouth. Sucking slowly, he enjoys the soft little moans he is drawing out of her.
He moves further down, planting a kiss on her dripping cunt. "Has your husband ever eaten you out before, princess?"
It takes her a second to realize he wants a response and nods shakily. How quickly he reduced her to a quivering mess.
"I didn't think so." He agrees, "You're so sensitive down here." He goes in again, collecting her wetness on his tongue. He wants her to come under his touch before he gets his cocks out. But the way she had her hands in his hair was making that hard.
He barely gives her a break after Michael climbs on top of her and slides in. His pace is brutal; he wants her to feel him tomorrow.
He wants to hold her in his arms. To tell her to stay the night. To make her laugh over breakfast. But he knows that will never be possible.
He understood her fully, what life was like in a cage, the press and fans. He knew how destructive it could be. But he could never predict how it would destroy her.
‘I love you, Diana. Shine. And shine on forever, because you are the true princess of the people.’