zee

“Michael.” You whisper, and open your legs just a little more for him, the back of your right thigh feeling how hard he is. That alone should’ve made you get away from him, but again, he’s here to comfort you, to protect you. Give you all the things your ex barely could perform well in, after all, Michael is your best friend. Best friends help each other, always.

He hums, “I know, mama, he got you all confused?” Michael rasps and brings his hand over to the top of your shorts, you scoot closer to his hand and nod. “Yeah, yes.” You struggle, Michael nods with you and pushes your shorts and panties forward, letting his fingers slip in. Michael’s middle finger, cold and gentle, lightly taps on your clit, feeling you jerk a little. Michael smirks and kisses your neck. “S’okay, Michael’s got you. I got you.” He mumbles, his accent strong as he slips his ring finger between your folds and he rubs up and down.

“Who’s got you, baby?” He asks and curls his fingers, teasing the entrance of your hole. You whimper and push your face against your pillow, the embarrassment rushing through. “You.” You muffled out. Michael smirks and chuckles, “Yeah. Me. Not your ass of an ex, can’t please this pretty pussy like me. What a joke.” He mocks, stretching your hole with his fingers, you nod and whimper as your hand grips the side of your pillow. “Fuck, Michael, right there.” You beg, your hips thrusting up, and Michael mimics your thrust, forcing you to feel his boner. He’s so hard and so big, his jeans straining his thick thighs and anything else with them.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl, there she is.” Michael encourages you, his fingers soaked from you as you give up on the effort of hiding your moans, you lean your head back a little and shut your eyes. Allowing yourself to fully enjoy what he’s giving you.

After all, he’s your man.

Don’t get it wrong, he’s still as hesitant as day one but he’s doing a bit better. You would still let him have his gentle nights of course, where he would gently press gentle kisses on your forehead, hands slowly rubbing up your body while he’d move slow and deep inside of you.

And then your nights, where he would leave a large handprint on your ass, whispering about how you take his dick so well, and pressing you down when you try to run. You loved every bit of it.

Michael being his usual curious self, ended up stumbling on a sex article. Flipping through the pages, he lingered on a specific one. “The Art Of Squirting.” He didn’t sleep till he read each and every word. Twice. He was a bit nervous to bring it up to you but he needed to try it.

“Mama.” He whispered during a slow night, bringing his hips to a still inside of you. “Yes, Mikey?” You panted, eyes fluttering open. “Can I try something new?”

Your brow raised, Michael wasn’t one to naturally step out of his comfort zone unlike you, so this came as a surprise. “What is it, baby?”

He pulled out of you, and you slightly pouted feeling the loss. “I want to make you….um,” his cheeks seemed flush and he couldn’t look you in the eyes. “squirt.” He shrugged, seeing there was no other way to say it.

Your eyes widened, out of all things you thought he was gonna say it wasn’t gonna be that. “You know it can get…messy, right?” You warned him. “I don’t even know if I can squirt.”

You never considered it, you already had the smallest fear that you’ll accidentally pee instead. “I know but look I’ll get towels.” Before you could say anything, he hopped up grabbing the towels from the laundry room.

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t excited. Michael was a perfectionist so you know he won’t stop till he figures out every spot.

He finally came back with two white towels, spreading them across the bed. “Okay, ready?” He asked with a sheepish smile.

You nodded, and laid flat on your back, lifting your legs in the air. His eyes dropped to your wet pussy, your folds were glistening from the previous activity.

He fell to his knees, taking your thick thighs in his hands. “Okay, it’s gonna feel like too much but you have to let me keep going, okay?” He warned.

You nodded, understanding what he meant. Now are you gonna listen is the real question.

He left wet kisses along your plump thighs, sucking occasionally. You felt his breath along your core making your hips subconsciously buck up.

“Relax, mama.” He whispered, arm coming to drape across your tummy to hold you down. His tongue found your clit, stroking it gently at first.

Your eyes fluttered shut as small moans filled the room. Your hand reached to grab his curls as your back arched. He flattened his tongue licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

One thing he knows how to do is eat. He’ll stay there all day if you let him. His tongue worked generously along your slit, swirling your arousal and his spit around.

His hands came up to push your thighs closer towards you, spreading you out more. “Damn, slow down.” You moaned feeling as if he only got hungrier.

His tongue picked up speed, flicking rapidly against the clit before he eased inside of your wet hole. “Oh shit!” You gasped, fingers gripping the sheets.

He’s usually a gentle eater but he must be pretty darn committed. He groaned inside of your pussy, fingers pressing into your skin. He held you down with the lean muscle he had, making sure you couldn’t move.

Your toes curled in the air as your eyes rolled back. He was truly tearing you up in that moment. He thrusted his tongue in and out of you, studying your reaction.

He was rock hard to be honest but his body was itching to feel you gush over him. “I-I’m cumming.” You panted, trying to pull his head away from your core.

His mouth moved to suck on your clit, sliding two fingers in. Before you knew it was shoving them in and out as fast as he could. You would’ve thought a vibrator was inside of you the way he moaned against your clit while fucking you with his fingers.

You wailed, body jerking as you creamed on his fingers. Instead of slowing down, he didn’t stop. Wet squelching sounds came from your pussy as he only continued to piston his fingers in, sucking your clit and coming off of it with a pop repeatedly.

“M-Michael, I can’t.” You cried, back arching. He pulled off of your clit, faint string of saliva connecting it with his tongue. “Yes you can, mama. Be good for me, okay?”

Before you could respond he went right back to it, slurping up your clit and moaning sending vibrations through you. You’re sobbing at this point, trying to catch your breath which was quickly escaping.

He curled his fingers inside you, calculating where your g-spot would be. You couldn’t even see the gears turning in his head, all you could feel was the overwhelming pleasure going through you.

“I need you to squirt in my mouth, baby.” He mumbled. He replaced his mouth with his thumb, quickly rubbing your clit in circles. His fingers didn’t stop as stood up to kiss your lips.

His tongue slid in, swirling against yours. You struggled to kiss back, mouth not being able to even close properly. “You close?” He whispered and you nodded, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“M-Michael.” You whimpered, thighs closing around his arm. It didn’t phase him at all, he only got back on his knees and used his free hand to spread you back open.

Who would’ve thought your nice and gentle husband, would have you crying and moaning like a dog in heat?

“You’re soaking, mama.” He smiled watching the small splashes from your arousal come out with every thrust. If he had his fingers in any longer they might just prune up.

He continued to curl his fingers, burying to the hilt. You slowly felt the push against your hole, and your hand shot out to grab his arm. Once again it didn’t affect anything, he only continued to fuck his fingers inside of you.

His mouth enclosed around your clit, gently sucking on it as his digits were anything but gentle. Your legs shook quickly, and his eyes widened seeing the signs of the upcoming orgasm.

“Give it me, mama, squirt for me.” He said with a kiss on your clit. “Michaellll,” you cried as a stream shot out of you. Your vision flashed white as your hearing disappeared for the smallest second and Michael watched in admiration.

He felt the stream hit his collarbone, arms, and fingers. He watched as the squirt dripped onto the floor and he pulled his fingers out quickly licking up your slit.

“PLEASE!” You cried trying to push his head away. He grabbed your wrists and held them in one of his hands as he sucked on your pussy.

You were so sensitive but it still felt so good. “I-I squirted already.” You whimpered, thighs still shaking. “I’m sorry, baby, I need more.” He whispered diving back in.

You created a monster.

⋆.˚ ★—

it had been a week since the safe room incident happened, and you knew michael had gotten into deep trouble with your father for being trapped inside instead of fighting. in your head, you figured that humiliating scolding was the reason he kept being distant with you.

you were back at the main estate now, where the security had doubled but the suffocating routine felt different simply because michael had turned back into a stranger.

the switch became real on a tuesday morning while you were sitting at the dining table as you watched his reflection in the glass windows. he stood still in his usual post with his tailored suit jacket buttoned tight, his arms crossed over his chest and his dark sunglasses firmly hiding his eyes.

“michael?” you called out quietly, letting your voice cut through the silence of the room as you tried to test the waters, wanting to see if he'd finally talk to you. “are we still doing the piano lessons at noon?”

michael let out a deep breath as his body shifted slowly, turning away from the glass to face the table while his lenses fixed straight onto your face. “the schedule remains unchanged, y/n.” he said flatly, his low rasp stripped of the rough intimacy from the safe house as he added. “and from now, you will refer to me as mr. jackson.”

your eyebrows knitted together in immediate confusion while you stared up at his face, the name feeling foreign in your ears, mr. jackson, your mind flashed back to the first day he had walked into your father's study, realizing that was the formal title he was supposed to go by from day one.

it was obvious he was trying to hit the reset button, desperate to erase the memory you being on his lap, the bruise he had caused on your thigh, and the way he got hard feeling your face against his leg.

“mr. jackson?” you repeated, letting a hurt scoff escape your throat before leaning back to cross your arms over your chest. “you didn't ask me to call you that in the safe house.”

“that.. was a breach of protocol.” michael countered, his tone calm as he easily brushed off the reminder, acting as if it hadn't left him second guessing everything. “that’s the standard. you will address me as mr. jackson when speaking to me, or you can choose not to speak at all.”

“wow.. you're actually.. a joke.” you muttered feeling a bitter sting in the back of your throat while you stood up from the table go walk straight past him toward the doors, intentionally letting your shoulder brush against his sleeve. “fine, mr. jackson.”

during your afternoon music practice in the library, the quiet felt suffocating as you sat on the bench staring down at the piano keys. unable to stomach his distance for another second, you dragged your fingers lightly over the keys and intentionally struck a low note that echoed through the room. the harsh vibration sent a shock straight into your fingertips yet michael didn't flinch, standing there frozen.

“did that sound good to you, mr.. jackson?” you asked, dragging your chin slowly over your shoulder to squint at his shadow while the bitter taste of his last name soured on your tongue.

“play the piece, y/n.” he murmured, his voice coming out as a low hum that barely carried across the room.

“i asked you a question.” you snapped, your frustration boiling over as you rolled your eyes. “is it good or not?”

“it's fine.” he replied blankly, his posture remaining unbothered as if you were nothing more than a disturbance in his line of sight.

the dismissal stung so badly that your temper flared, driving you to jam your hands down on the keys to play a chaotic chord that sounded horribly mixed together, filling the library with a clash of ugly noise.

“what about this? this one sound good?” you asked in bitterness, your voice laced with defiance as you slammed down on another discordant set of keys, determined to break his composure.

michael stayed silent but the shift in the room revealed him slowly stepping out from the corner, his shoes making no sound as he quietly walked over to where you sat. seeing the towering width of him approaching, you pulled your hands away from the piano, hovering your fingers above your lap while you waited for his reaction.

his large hand shot forward and slammed the piano lid down with a heavy thud, missing your knuckles by inches.

you stared up at him in shock, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes traced the sunglasses covering his eyes. michael leaned down slightly, stepping right into the space between the bench and the piano so that his frame consumed you, his fingers gripping the edge of the piano casing behind your shoulders to trap you in place.

“stop being stupid, y/n.” he rasped, his voice dropping into a rough register as a warning but honestly, it only turned you on.

“then.. stop treating me like this.” you hissed back, tilting your chin up confidently despite the racing of your heart, refusing to back down while you searched his face for any flicker of the man who had held you against him in the dark. “you're pretending like nothing happened.”

michael's jaw clenched as he leaned in even closer, his dark glasses coming so close that you could see your own reflection in the lenses. “nothing did happen.” he whispered, his low rasp carrying a sharp warning that was meant to force you into silence.

your eyes darted down to the hard set of his lips before snapping right back up to his gaze. “oh really? then why did you-“

the noise of leather shoes echoed against the hallway abruptly shattering the suffocating trance, followed by the deep groan of the doors swinging wide open.

one of your father’s men stepped into the entryway, his sharp gaze flicking over michael's frame pinned over your posture before he cleared his throat.

“jackson.” the guard called out, his voice crisp and carrying the weight of your father's authority. “the don needs you in the main study right now for a meeting. it's urgent.”

michael slowly brought his frame fully upright, his large hands easing off the piano casing to smooth down the front of his suit jacket with precision. his chest rose and fell in one long breath before he turned his head toward the door, his face morphing back into an unreadable mask.

“understood.” michael replied, as the guard gave a single nod before stepping back into the corridor to leave the doors resting ajar. “go to your room and wait there.” he ordered in a strict tone. “don't do anything stupid while m' gone.”

you kept your lips sealed shut, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a single word as you held his hidden gaze for a second before dramatically rolling your eyes, pushing yourself off the bench and marching straight towards your room, letting your silence speak more than a response.

ᯓ★

you spent the next half an hour pacing around your bedroom, the silence and boredom driving you insane. every time your eyes flicked to the clock resting on the nightstand, the golden hands barely seemed to tick, and the realization that michael was still trapped in that meeting with your father gave you an idea.

you sat on the edge of the mattress, the telephone receiver pressed tight to your ear while your fingers nervously twisted the black cord around. the line rang twice before a click echoed through the speaker, followed by jada's familiar voice breaking straight through the quiet of your bedroom.

the two of you fell into your usual mindless chatter for a while, exchanging silly updates about your week and giggling over drama. but no matter how hard you tried to focus on her words, your eyes kept helplessly drifting back to your closed bedroom door, your heart giving a nervous jump at every creak you hard.

“kay, wait...” you cut in softly, tightening your fingers around the handle until your knuckles strained. “i kinda need your advice on something.”

jada stopped mid sentence, the rustle of background noise coming to a halt as she picked up on the shift in your tone. “huh... what's up?”

you swallowed down the rush of heat crawling up your face, carefully trying to phrase your words without dropping a hint about the fact you had a bodyguard. “so... there's this guy right? what do i do if i was getting.. real close to him and then he starts being distant?”

“hmmm..” jada hummed thoughtfully into the receiver, the sound of her tapping her nails against her nightstand echoing down the line. “i mean.. it probably means he likes you. he's just like.. freaked out.. or scared.”

she paused for a long moment before her voice dipped into a mischievous register. “but... what do you mean by real close?”

you blushed, but the desperate need to vent took over as you took a deep breath. you sank deeper into the mattress, your voice dropping into a flustered whisper as you described the weight of his chest crowding you into the dark, the possessive grip of his warm hands dragging against your skin, and the rasp of his voice that always made your heart race.

there was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line before jada let out a loud laugh, squealing straight into your ear. “oh my god! girl, you are sooo gonna get some!”

your eyes widened in embarrassment as you shook your head, clutching the receiver tight against your face to yell softly back. “no! m' not tryna get some-“

your door handle twisted downward as the bedroom door swung open, revealing michael's frame standing locked in the doorway. “get off the phone, y/n.” he ordered, his unreadable gaze stuck onto you behind those black lenses of his.

“oh my god! is that him?!” jada squeaked through the telephone, her voice bursting so loudly out of the tiny speaker that he could hear it.

a wave of panic spiked straight through your body, your chest heaving as you shoved the receiver back down onto its cradle, cutting her off with a sharp noise.

“didn't i tell you not to do anything stupid?” michael asked, his frame shifting as he took a few steps across the carpet. his sunglasses tracking the black cord snaking from the nightstand down to the baseboard as his fingers twitched at his side, looking like he was seconds away from reaching down and yanking the wire right out of the wall. “and here you are. talking about getting some.”

acting on flustered desperation, you scrambled off the edge of the mattress and threw your body directly in front of the nightstand, pressing the backs of your thighs against the dark wood to block his path. “first of all, stop listening to my conversations.” you snapped back, your voice trembling just enough to betray how timid you were under his gaze. “and second of all, you're not taking my phone.”

“your telephone is for emergencies. not whatever you were using it for.” he said lowly, taking another step forward until his body swallowed your frame.

“i.. did use it for an emergency.” you shot back instantly, your voice rising defensively as you pressed your back harder against the wood. your hands gripping the edge of the nightstand behind you as your heart began beating a faster rhythm.

michael tilted his head down as a quiet scoff escaped his lips, his glasses reflecting your flushed expression right back at you with no mercy. “yeah? didn't sound like it.”

“how much were you... listening to?” you whispered out softly, looking down in guilt as the silence stretching between you until the air felt too thick to breathe.

“enough to know you don't need it anymore.” he replied smoothly, biting his lip as he began to lose his patience and reach out towards the telephone.

but before his hand could reach past your shoulder to grab the wire, you whipped around, snatched the telephone right off your nightstand, and fell backward onto the mattress.

scrambling across the sheets, you shoved the base and the receiver deep beneath the heavy duvet, tucking the blankets tightly over it and using your own body as a shield to block the obvious lump from his sight. you sat there cross legged, breathing heavily with your cheeks burning a deep red, staring up at him.

michael's sunglasses stayed locked on the telephone bulge behind your hips as he let out a long sigh, shaking his head slightly before raising his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses in exasperation.

he lowered his glasses from his eyes and took a step right up to the edge of the mattress, his frame towering directly over you. without uttering a single word, he leaned down over your body, his shoulders blocking out the surroundings as he planted one large hand on the mattress right beside your hip, bringing the warmth radiating from his body ridiculously close to your face.

you were trapped beneath his overwhelming presence, his low breathing fanning softly across your skin while his eyes glanced towards your face with an intensity that instantly made you feel bold.

as his fingers finally wrapped firmly around the telephone's base beneath the sheets, pure instinct took over your body, and instead of shrinking back from his frame, you tilted your head up to bridge the space left between you, pressing your lips straight against his.

michael went still in an instant, his grip on the telephone freezing beneath the blankets while his frame locked up at the unexpected contact. the sweet taste of your mouth pressed against his made him lose his mind, instantly threatening to shatter the strict wall he had been forcing himself to maintain ever since the safe room while he hovered helplessly right over you, trapped in the closeness of the moment.

you broke the kiss slowly, pulling your lips back to look up into his eyes, your heart beating as the thick silence settled over the bed once again.

you could see the sudden change in his gaze, the disciplined guard he had maintained this entire time snapping, replaced by a man who was purely hungry for you.

his large hand shot up, his fingers tangling possessively into the hair at the back of your head to hold you in place. he leaned down and captured your mouth again, yet this time there was no hesitation, his lips pressing against yours with an aggressive warmth that stole the air out of your lungs.

a helpless whimper from you escaped into his mouth, making him let out a low groan as he used his frame and strength to push you backward onto the mattress without ever breaking the desperate clash of your lips. he followed you down, hovering heavy and hot over your body while his tongue licked greedily past your parted lips, taking full control of the kiss as he pinned you beneath him on the bed.

as the kiss deepened into a desperate pace, his large hand shifted from the back of your head, his thick fingers tracing a slow path down the curve of your jaw before settling against the front of your throat. his palm wrapped around your neck, applying a gentle squeeze that naturally forced your head back against the pillows and exposed the length of your neck to his eyes.

he tore his bruised mouth away from yours with a heavy exhale, his lips guiding down the line of your jaw, trailing hot kisses against your skin until he reached the dip where your neck met your shoulder. the second his tongue glided over the warm skin and his lips locked into a firm suck, a small whimper leaving your mouth, echoing softly into the quiet of the room as your hands instinctively flew up to grip at his shoulders.

his other hand abandoned the hidden telephone beneath the duvet, his palm sliding slowly upward over your stomach, pressing through your shirt until he cupped the soft plump of your breasts, his long fingers squeezing with tenderness.

the gentle pressure of his palm against your chest sent a shudder through your body, and unable to swallow down the arousal, your head tilted back into the pillows as a soft moan spilled from your lips. “michael..”

the breathless sound of his name leaving your lips hit him, making his posture freeze in an instant as his lips stopped against your skin, his low breathing stalling in his chest as the realization of what he was doing finally pierced through the thoughts of desire.

the strict rules he had built his entire life around wove back into his mind, reminding him with clarity that he was your bodyguard, hired to protect you and keep you safe, not to feel you up and pin you to your own bed.

you felt the change in his frame, and the moment his palm began to slip away from your chest, you reached down from his shoulders, your hands clutching at his jacket, pulling him down with everything you had to keep him from retreating.

“please... don't stop, michael, please.” you begged, your eyes wide and helpless as you stared up into his gaze, unconcerned with the professional lines he was desperately trying not to cross.

michael squeezed his eyes shut tight, clenching his jaw as every shred of his duty screamed at him to pull back, stand up, and walk out the door, but the sound of your soft voice begging for him, paired with your hands clinging to his jacket, tore his resolve to pieces.

his eyes snapped open again, burning into yours with raw intensity as he slowly gave back in, his towering body sinking back down over yours until there wasn't any space left between you. his large hands slid down from your shoulders, pressing through the fabric of your shirt to map the curve of your waist, his palms squeezing your hips to hold you against the mattress.

“not suppose to be doin this...” he rasped out, his voice trembling against your skin as he dipped his head down, pressing his forehead against the side of your neck while his hands slid upward, hooking beneath the hem of your shirt to pull it up so his bare skin could meet yours.

you gasped as his large hands spread against the warm flesh of your breasts, his fingers finding your hardened nipples as he rolled them with his thumbs.

your back pushed off the mattress in a desperate arc, a helpless gasp spilling from your lips as your toes curled into the sheets.

“why do you do this to me, y/n...?” he groaned against your skin, heavy with frustration and control. “why do you make me break every rule i have for you?”

his words only shattered what was left of your composure as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “m' sorry..” you whimpered, your hips bucking up slightly into his thigh as your chest arching higher into his palms in a silent plea for more.

you were completely consumed by him, needy, and panting, your fingernails digging through his jacket to drag him closer, wanting him to strip away every last barrier between you. “i.. just w-wanted you.”

the helpless cadence of your voice, paired with the way your body reached for his, destroyed whatever sanity he had left as he stared at you.

“don't say that to me...” he muttered as a warning, he knew words like that could easily make him snap and lose the last of his control.

the dangerous touch in his register replayed in your head, you could sense it, realizing how easily your words could push him over the edge sent a thrill of power straight to your body.

“why?” you breathed out, dropping your voice into a shaky whisper against him. your head rolled back into the pillows, exposing more of your skin to him as your hands tightened their grip on his jacket. “because you know it's true, michael? because.. you know how much i want you?”

his dark eyes darkened, clenching his jaw as his breath hitched. “y/n...” he groaned out, biting his lip.

“please...” you whimpered, purposely letting your voice break as you abandoned every piece of your own pride, letting the needy tone take over. “need you so bad, michael..”

the relentless sound of your begging and the heat of your body reaching up to meet his made the last of his strict discipline crumble right before your eyes.

his mouth slammed back down over yours, taking your waiting lips in an aggressive kiss that swallowed your needy moans whole. his tongue swept in hungrily, taking full territory of your mouth with intense power, while his other hand slid flat against your stomach, his rough fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with an authoritative pull to take complete possession of you.

as your shorts and panties cleared your hips, michael dragged his lips away just so he could look down at your ruined face, watching you pant in anticipation.

his left hand suddenly shot up, his fingers wrapping around both of your wrists in an effortless grip. he forced your arms up past your head, pinning your wrists against the mattress above you.

“you wanted this?” he asked, his hot breath hitting your cheek as his thigh shifted, sliding directly between yours to push your legs open. “look at me.”

your head rolled against the pillows, your eyes fluttering open, staring up into his stern gaze as your wrists twitched uselessly inside the tight grip of his hands. “michael... please...” you whimpered again, your throat tight, your body trembling beneath him.

“no more begging.” he growled into your skin, his jaw grinding as his fingers dragged down until his palm settled between your thighs, taking deep control of your center.

a loud gasp broke from your parted lips as his thumb made firm contact, your hips bucking up into his touch. he held your wrists pinned above your head while his hips held you down and his thumb applied a steady slow pressure right against your sensitive clit.

“tell me this is what you wanted.” he commanded, his dark whisper breaking against your ear as his index and middle fingers slowly entered you. “tell me...”

“yes... yes, this is what i wanted.” you sobbed out, the ruined confession spilling past your lips as you shattered beneath him.

a loud fist slammed aggressively against the bedroom door down the hall. “jackson!” a guard's rough voice barked straight through the wood. “you in here? boss was asking if you made it to that meeting downstairs!”

your heart dropped to your stomach, a terrified whimper escaping your lips as your body went stiff.

michael's left hand instantly snapped away from your pinned wrists above your head, slamming over your mouth to seal your whimpers inside. his dark eyes narrowed into a glare, his eyes boring directly into yours with a warning that wanted silence.

“yeah.” michael called out, his low voice steady despite the heat consuming the space between your bodies.

“he said you were supposed to report in right after.” the guard's boots paused directly outside in the corridor, the floor groaning under his weight.

michael's lower body shifted, his thumb, still embedded between your legs, beginning to work against your sensitive clit with a fast pace. the movement hit you with force, sending a rush of pleasure straight through your nervous system.

a muffled gasp tore against his palm, hot tears springing to your eyes and spilling over your cheeks from the torture of holding back your moans. you were shaking uncontrollably, consumed by the terrifying combination of being caught and the intense sensation building in your center.

“handled.” michael rasped toward the door, his hungry eyes never once left your teary face, tracking every tremor that shook your frame. his thumb didn't stop for a second, driving you faster and faster towards your peak while his palm kept your breathless whimpers trapped in your throat. “five minutes.”

"copy that.. don't keep him waiting." the guard replied, his boots finally shuffling on the hardwood and fading slowly back down the corridor.

the second the sound of the guard's footsteps receded into the darkness, your body neared your orgasm. the tight sensation in your stomach building as your inner thighs shook. and right at that second, michael's hand stopped, his thumb abruptly pulling away from your wet skin.

a broken sob left your lips the moment his palm slid off your mouth as you looked up at him with wide eyes, gasping for air, your body suspended in an unbearable void as the pleasure crashed back into a burning ache.

michael hovered over you, his chest breathing heavily against yours, dark eyes burning with raw possessiveness as he looked down at your undone state.

“no.” he rasped out, his low voice dripping with a dark authority as his heavy hands dug into the soft skin of your hips, pinning you against the bed. “not like this.”

your breath hitched, a broken whimper escaping your lips as you searched his face, every nerve screaming for the relief he had just snatched away.

“michael...” you choked out, your hands feebly tugging at his shirt, your body desperate for more. “you can't just leave me like this...”

his jaw clenched tight as he forced himself to take in your flustered expression, his dark eyes swept over your cheeks stained with tears, your swollen lips, and the warm skin of your body.

every dangerous instinct in himself screamed at him to strip off his suit jacket, push himself deep inside you, and finish what he started. but the threat of the five minute countdown hung over his head, risking your safety and exposing you to the guards downstairs for a rushed moment was something his disciplined mind refused to allow.

“m' not gonna rush this.” he growled low into your ear, his voice laced with painful strain as his body fought his own command. “and m' sure as hell not taking you with a hallway full of men outside that door.”

michael began to shift his body off you. the sudden loss of his warmth made the cool air of the room hit your skin, leaving you feeling instantly cold and exposed.

reaching down, his hands caught the bottom of your shirt, gently pulling the clothing back down over your waist and smoothing it out over your hips with care. his touch was protective, covering you back up from the cold before his hands slowly retreated.

you watched through glossy eyes as he sat up on the edge of the mattress, the bed creaking under his body.

when he turned around to face you, he looked like the strict bodyguard again but in his eyes, you could see they burnt with an intense promise.

he leaned down, planting one palm flat on the mattress right next to your head as his thumb reached out, brushing gently across your cheek to sweep away a tear.

“stay in this bed.” he ordered, his low voice dropping into a firm register as you nodded your head to his command. “don't touch yourself. as soon as i clear that meeting and this house goes dark, m' coming back for you.”

A VELVETY NIGHT AT THE HAYVENHURST ESTATE, 1979.

Your ceiling fan turned lazily above you and Michael’s bed, stirring the heavy July heat that still was clinging stubbornly to the estate in Encino, California. The sounds of the night thumped faintly through the open window, and inside, very little lighting was casted from the single lamp draped with a maroon scarf, bringing a warm crimson shadow across your shared bedroom.

Michael was on his knees behind you, one strong hand braced on the mattress beside your hip, the other resting lightly on the small of your back. You were on all fours in front of him, ass raised, back arched in the same perfect curve that always made Michael’s mouth go dry. Your skin glowed under the lamplight, and your small textured gold hoops swayed gently from your ears. You wore nothing else except the thin gold chain around your neck that Michael had gifted you when you started dating years ago.

His dick–thick, dark, and slick as ever–was resting heavy against the cleft of your ass. Michael had been teasing the head along your wet folds for the last few minutes, just like you had told him to. Every time he tried to push it in, you shifted forward just enough to deny him.

“Not yet,” you said, voice amused. “You feel how wet I am, baby? That’s all for you.” You moaned, turning around to bat your eyelashes at the man. He was handsome, and whenever you two had sex, you knew Michael loved when you were in control. “But you don’t get t’ put it in until I say. Keep rubbin’. Nice and slow.”

Michael exhaled hard through his nose. “Mama… you’re killin’ me.”

“Am I?” You looked back over your shoulder again, eyes half-lidded, a little smile curling your mouth. “Or am I just remindin’ my man who decides when his dick gets used tonight?” You argue, biting your bottom lip. “Keep going, just the head. Drag it up and down nd’ be louder for me, baby.”

Michael obeyed. The broad head of his dick slid through your folds again, coating itself, catching on your entrance, then sliding past without sinking in. The slick sound filled the quietness of the room, both of your noises combined leaving echoes through the walls. Michael’s free hand flexed on your hip. He wanted to grip harder, to pull you back onto you, but he didn’t. You specifically told him not to.

“That’s it,” you murmured. “Good. You’re bein’ so good to me right now, Michael. Tell me how it feels.” You whimper.

“Feels like heaven nd’ hell at the same damn time,” he said, his voice croaky. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. Hot. I can feel you twitchin’ every time I feel it… I want inside, mama. Bad.”

“I know you do.” You say, reaching back between your legs and wrapping your fingers around the base of his dick, holding him steady while you rocked your hips just enough to keep the head kissing your entrance without letting Michael in. “But don’t think you’re goin’ in until I decide you’re ready. Nd’ right now, you’re not ready. You’re still thinkin’ you get to fuck me how you want. That’s not how this works tonight.”

Michael’s thighs tensed. “I’ll do it however you want. Please, angel… you know that.”

“I do know that.” You gave him a slow stroke with your hand, then guided the head to your entrance again and let just the very tip slip inside. The tight, wet heat closed around him for one teasing second before you pulled forward and off him completely. He made a frustrated sound that made your pussy twitch.

“Ah-ah. Stay still, Michael.” You looked back again, eyes sharp with authority. “You don’t thrust. You don’t chase. You stay still nd’ wait for me to take what I want. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The words came out automatic, and something in your expression softened even as the teasing edge stayed sharp. You reached back again, took hold of him, and this time you pushed back slowly–taking the first thick inch, then another, then stopping with only half of him buried inside of you.

“There,” you breathed. “You feel that? That’s all you get for now. You stay still. Don’t you dare try nd’ bury the rest. I move, you take it.”

Michael’s jaw was tight. He kept his hips locked in place, even though every instinct screamed at him to drive forward. The heat of your pussy around the head and upper shaft was almost unbearable for him. You clenched deliberately around him, then relaxed, then clenched once again in slow pulses that made his dick throb harder than ever.

“Baby… fuck. You’re squeezin’ me so good. Let me in deeper, please.”

“Ask nicer.”

Michael swallowed. “Please, honey. Please let me feel all of that pussy. I’ll stay still after… I’ll do whatever you say. Just.. let me have it.”

You smiled and pushed back another inch, then another, until he was fully seated inside of you. Both of you groaned. You stayed there a long moment, rolling your hips in tiny circles so Michael could feel every ridge and flutter without the friction he craved dearly.

“All the way in,” you said softly. “Nd’ you’re still not allowed to fuck me. I fuck you. You feel how deep you are? How I’m holdin’ you? That’s mine.” You started, gripping the fluffy sheets underneath you.

“S’ all mine tonight, Michael. Every move you make is mine. You cum only when I say–nd’ not one second before.”

“Y-yes. Yes ma’am,” Michael managed. “It’s all yours, baby. All of it.”

You began to move–slow, calculated rolls of your hips, pulling almost all the way off him then sliding back down in a controlled rhythm that kept him deep but never gave him the hard, fast strokes his body was begging for. Every time his breathing sharpened and you felt that telltale swell of his sex inside you, you slowed to almost nothing, just the wet, filthy sound of your pussy gripping him while you stayed still.

“Not yet,” you said each time, voice steady. “You feel that edge, daddy? That pull? That’s me. I put it there, nd’ I decide when it breaks.”

Michael’s forehead dropped toward your shoulder. His hands stayed where you had told him to keep them–one on the mattress, one lightly on your hip. He was shaking with the effort of holding still when you stopped.

“Honey… I’m right there. Been right there for what feels like forever. Please… let me move. Just a lil’ bit.”

You reached under yourself and wrapped your fingers around the base of his dick where it disappeared into you, squeezing firmly.

“You wanna move? Then you wait till’ I tell you to. Nd’ when I do, you go exactly as slow or as fast as I say. Clear?”

“Clear. Yes ma’am.”

You released the pressure and began rocking again, a little deeper this time, a little more purposeful. The wet slap of your bodies together grew louder. You looked back at him over your shoulder, watching his face the way you always did when you had him like this… vulnerable and begging.

“You look so good behind me, Mikey,” you said, voice thicker now. “All strong nd’ hard… doin’ everything I tell you even though I know you’re dyin’ to take over. That’s my good man. Tell mommy what you need.”

“I need to fuck you,” he said, his moans broken. “So deep, so hard. I needa’ feel you cum on this dick so I can fill you up.” He admits.

“But only when you say. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you want.”

Something shifted in you then–the pure teasing dominance softening into the switch the two of you loved. You reached back, found his hand, and guided it to your clit.

“Rub me while I ride you from the front, baby,” you ordered tenderly. “Make me feel good… and if you get too close, you stop dead. No matter how good it feels. You understand me?”

“I do, mommy. I promise.”

Michael’s fingers found your clit immediately, circling with the exact pressure you liked. You started moving with more purpose–longer strokes, while still maintaining your control. It was deeper though, and every time his hips twitched forward on instinct you slowed or stopped completely, forcing him back to the edge and holding him there. Sweat slicked the both of you. The room started to smell of sex and that faint sweetness of your expensive perfume Michael repurchased for you a million times.

“Mama… please. I can’t… it’s too much. You’re so wet nd’ I’m so damn full. Let me cum. Or let me make you cum first–whatever you want. Just… use me. Please.”

You slowed again, staying buried deep, looking back at your man with dark, sparkling eyes.

“You wanna make mommy cum, Mikey?”

“More than anything.” Michael pleads.

“Then you keep that hand right there on my clit. You keep stroking me exactly like that. And you fuck me the way I tell you to.” You demand, your face scrunching from the pressure.

“You don’t cum until I give you the word. Can you do that for me?”

“I can do anything for you.” Michael whimpers.

“Prove it.”

You braced your hands on the mattress and gave Michael the order with the roll of your hips. “Deep, Michael. Now, please.”

Michael began to thrust–careful strokes that made both of you moan. He kept his fingers working your clit in tight circles, matching the rhythm you set. Every time you felt him swelling harder inside you, you’d murmur quiet “slower” or “stop”, and it would instantly make Michael freeze, buried to the hilt, breathing hard against your back while you clenched around him in intentional pulses that kept him right on the razor’s edge.

The power kept sliding between the two of you. When you got close yourself, you would order Michael to speed up, then slow him again the second your orgasm threatened to tip you over. When Michael got too close, you would reach back, squeeze the base of his dick, and hold him still until the urge passed. Neither of you fully dominant for long–because both of you started submitting to the shared game of denial and control.

Finally, your voice went high and shaky.

“Faster, now. Harder… Don’t you dare stop, Michael. M’ close–fuck, Mikey, I’m so close–”

Michael drove into you deeper, faster, exactly as you asked him to, fingers still working your clit. The wet sound of the two of your bodies filled the bedroom. You came first–tight, rhythmic contractions that milked Michael hard, your moan muffled against the silk pillow as you shook underneath him.

The second your orgasm started to ease, you looked back, your eyes wild, and gave him the word he had been waiting for the moment you two started making love.

“Cum. Now, Michael. Fill me up… give it to me.”

Michael’s control shattered. He gripped your hips hard for the first time all night and buried himself as deep as he could go, pulsing hard inside you with a broken, grateful sound. You kept clenching around him through every spurt, drawing every bit of it out, whispering the filthiest praises to him the entire time.

“That’s it… good boy… give me every drop… fuck, I can feel you throbbing, Michael. So fuckin’ good for me.”

You stayed locked like this afterward, both of you trembling, Michael’s chest pressed to your back, your hand reaching back to stroke his thigh.

Michael eventually pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, his voice still extremely rough.

“You’re so dangerous when you get like that, honey.”

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “Nd’ you love it.”

“I do.” Michael confesses, nuzzling behind your ear. “The next time we make love though… I’ll be the one havin’ you shaking nd’ beggin’.”

You smiled against the pillow, already sounding pleased at the idea. “We’ll see who ends up in charge.”

The two of you stayed tangled together on the bed, all sticky and worn out, already half-planning the next round of that slow and delicious torment–whoever happened to be calling the shots when it started.

And of course, it’d be you.

freakinme ©, all rights reserved! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑), i hope you enjoyed!

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His head was lolled back against the backseat headrest, his hand threaded through your locks of hair, guiding your mouth as it enveloped his dick hungrily—Spit, pre-cum and your cherry-scented lip gloss smothered everywhere.

He was loosing his mind—Every time your tongue grazed the thick, pulsating vein on the underside of his cock, or your lips suctioned around the swollen head, or you hollowed out your cheeks as you slithered down to the base, taking all of his length down your greedy throat in one go—He couldn’t help but whine and squirm beneath you, his grip tightening in your hair every so often.

“Nngh—S—Sweetie, shit, ‘M so close, baby.” He panted, eyes darting down to your moving head, teeth gritted together as he suppressed his orgasm.

You pulled off him with a wet pop!, your hand still pumping him slowly, slick with your syrupy saliva, as you met his gaze.

“Don’t cum yet, lovebug.” You drawled, pressing a chaste kiss to his drooling tip, catching the pre-release on your slick lips, darting your tongue out to taste him.

Michael whined as he watched you—His lip coming between his teeth as his vision locked on your glossed-over, blown out pupils, watching his greedily.

“‘M—I’m tryin’ baby, but—but, y’doin’ so good.”

He looked adorable like this—Cheeks flushed red, hair a frazzled mess from where you’d threaded your fingers through it when you kissed him previously, and lips swollen from how many times he’d gnawed on them.

Your boyfriend was always shy and submissive when it came to sex. He was always the one to let you take the reigns, be the one in control, tell him what to do—Leaving him whining and begging for you to let him cum, or pleading with you to taste him. He was always timidly intimate like that. And you adored it. Watching his gorgeous face contort into scrunches of pleasure whenever he’d slip inside, or hear him, just like he had done, whimper and cry at your work on him—It turned you on every time without fail.

You licked a long, teasing stripe from the base to the tip, giving it a tantalising flick of your tongue when you got to the top—Just to hear him beg. His dick twitched violently in your hand, earning him a playful, smug smile plastering across your face as he gripped the denim of his discarded jeans next to him.

“Please, God, please, baby.” He heaved, “Needa cum inside your pussy, angel, please.”

You stayed silent—smirking as you watched him writhe, your hand moving painfully slow around him. Michael whined, louder this time, as you refused to move from where you crouched in the footwell. Your tongue lolled out once more, swirling around the tip, occasionally slithering it into your mouth to suck, increasing the pressure around him, before pulling off with a loud slurp, and resuming your licking. Michael wriggled uncontrollably, his knuckles strained and tensed around his jeans as his grip tightened, eyes now clamped shut as a beg crawled up his throat, before—

“Please, baby!”

With his abrupt, desperate cry—Your smile deepened. That was what you were waiting for.

“Mm, such a good boy, Mikey.” You praised, pressing one last kiss to the throbbing head of his dick, his hips jolting, before you finally climbed up his body, “You really wan’ it that bad, honey?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, baby, I do, I do—mmhf!”

He was cut short after you settled in his lap, legs either side of his bare, thick thighs as you connected your lips fiercely—Tongue entering his mouth smoothly. He whined at the taste of himself on your tongue, his hands flying to grip the curve of your waist as yours threaded through his curls at the nape of his neck.

“Lemme’ put it in, baby, please.” Michael mumbled against your lips, his right hand crawling between your legs, dipping under your uniform skirt, and pulling your panties, soaked in your own arousal, to the side, “Need t’feel you, mama, please.”

You nodded against him, your lips still pressed firmly against his own, capturing them in a passionate embrace—Before gasping, as his mauve-coloured tip slipped between your glistening folds.

“Shit.” You whispered, as his tip grazed against your aching clit—begging to be touched after it’d throbbed with every whine and whimper that left the man beneath you as you sucked him.

“Can I? Please, can I be inside you, love?” Michael whined, his voice quivering as the head caught at your clenching entrance, dripping with slick arousal.

You nodded again quickly, “Yeah, baby—Stuff me full.”

Michael moaned loudly—Equal parts from your lewd words, and the sensation of his hard, thick cock slipping inside your warm pussy. You pulled apart from his lips momentarily, your forehead lolling against his, breath panting against his swollen lips as he pushed deeper inside—His head nudging closer to the spot that made you scream.

“Oh—Oh, God, mama.” Michael cried, his head thrown back once again, eyes slammed shut as he finally bottomed out, tip kissing your cervix beautifully, “Y’so tight …so warm—Oh, Jesus.”

He wasted no time—He instantly set a gruelling pace. From seeing you waitressing in a miniature skirt with a sweet smile and perfect customer service, to having your plump, warm lips wrapped around him—He had been hard the second he laid eyes on you. And the sensation of finally slipping inside your deliciously wet heat had his mind numb—Fully loosing control of any self-restraint as he ploughed into you.

Your back arched in a brutal ‘C’ shape, breasts, still clad in your lacy, pink bra, pressed up against his clothed chest—Lips parted and panting out ragged breaths as you involuntarily bounced on his crotch. Michael was a goner—Whimpering uncontrollably into the air, hips thrusting upwards into your oozing cunt, as his hands forced you back down by his grip on your waist, so hard you were certain he’d leave marks.

“Fuck, Mike, I—“

Words failed you, for once. When making love—Or in this case, fucking like rabbits—you were often more dominant. Like stated before, you took control of the situation—But, this had rendered you speechless. You had an long and early shift today—a ‘Clo-pen’ as they liked to call it when you opened and closed in one shift—So, not only did Michael miss out on your usual morning sex routine, but he also tortured himself by visiting you at work, letting himself watch you walk around in that short, tempting skirt and not be able to touch you. So, rightfully, he was pent up—And it was obvious.

The way his languid hips, so fluid from his years of dancing, snapped up fiercely, pushing his stiff dick as far as it’ll fit inside your pulsating cunt, had you seeing stars—Incessant, repeated whines of your own stumbling past your lips.

Michael pulled you impossibly closer—His arms wrapping around your back as he pressed you against his chest, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as forced you back down on his cock harsher than before. His dick, hard and drooling, repeatedly slammed against your G-spot—Rendering you delirious as your own unexpectedly quick orgasm crept up your spine.

“Oh, mama—Oh, my baby, shit, you feel s’good. So damn good, baby.” Michael, his voiced muffled against your neck as he pressed messy, sloppy kisses to the flesh, whimpered into your skin, “You close, mama?”

“Fuck—Yes, baby, don’t stop—Keep goin’ jus’ like that.” You affirmed, your cheeks rubbing against his own as his face rolled from your neck to press against you.

“Y’squeezin’ me so hard, baby—mmhm!—‘Gonna make me cum, love!”

You whined—His name tumbling from your mouth as he quickened his pace, now jackhammering into you aggressively as he chased his peak like a dog in heat. He continued his noises—Whining and pleading as he nuzzled his face into your own, spit dragging along your cheek as he drooled, eyes rolled into the back of his head as you clenched around him.

“Shit, Mikey, ‘M there! ‘M cumming, baby!” You announced desperately, your back arching further as your pussy convulsed around him.

“Yes! Tha’s it, baby!—Oh, God, please. Give it to me, pretty, give it to me. Cum on me, love, I—Mmgh!” Michael rambled, before cutting himself off with a particularly loud cry.

Your orgasms were unison—You spasming and tightening around him as you creamed deliciously, the pleasure consuming you fully as you rode out your high, your hips twitching to keep his cock nudging your spot as you released. Michael seized up—his hips stuttering violently as he pulsed inside you, the sensation of his dick twitching and throbbing against your spongy walls only prolonging your orgasm as he flooded your cunt with his seed, filling you to the hilt with his cum, as he cried out unapologetically.

As you both came down, panting and red-faced, glistening in sweat, Michael’s hand slithered to your cheek, cupping the skin as he connected your lips. This kiss was far more romantic and endearing than the last—The kisses lengthened and deeper as he savoured your lips against his own. He remained inside, even as he softened, as he kissed you lovingly—His hands cradling your face, as yours slid to grip the soft material of his crisp white T-shirt.

You pulled off with a slow, sensual mwah!, peering down to smile at him sweetly—Thumb rubbing gentle circles over the clothed skin of his glistening chest.

“I love you, baby.”

Michael smiled, a large, deep, genuine smile at your words, his head falling slightly in timidity at the sudden affection, “I love you, more, honey.” He reciprocated, followed by a quick smooch.

You giggled, leaning down to press your head against his chest, his quickened heart rate, slowly decreasing in pace, filled your ears, as you gazed out the window. You chuckled at the condensation that filled your vision, from the increased temperature that had erupted in the car—Before, you reached over and wiped it clean with your palm.

As the bare, open parking lot came into clearer view, your eyes landed on a familiar frame stomping angrily towards the car. Your eyes widened, before shooting off of Michael’s lap, his softened cock slipping from your pussy, drooling with his release, as you scrambled into the front seat.

“Wha’? Baby, what’s—?”

“Fuck! That’s my manager—Drive!”

© dreamylace 2026 ❦ all rights reserved

bambi!michael whose pout is just the cutest thing in the world, his lower lip jutted as you tease him over one thing or another. maybe you're spending too much time with one of his brothers or maybe you're just being difficult, denying him what he wants in the moment. it's stronger than any puppy dog pout you've ever seen, almost always working in getting you to concede to his wishes.

bambi!michael whose innocent demeanor isn't a facade by any means, but merely a lid on top of something more instinctive. every now and then you'll catch his gaze lingering on you, lower lip being bitten enough to puncture skin as his gentle eyes trace the curve of your ass. salivation builds up before his cheeks flush and he looks away, opting to resist temptation for the time being.

bambi!michael who cries sometimes when he comes, especially if you haven't touched him in a long time. quivering lips just barely manage to gasp out shaky words before long spurts of cum shoot from his tip and into your hand. tears well up in his eyes, then stream down his cheeks because he feels so good and he loves you so much. unable to stop his tears, he instead lets them flow freely, smiling sheepishly before resting his forehead against your body.

bambi!michael who's been nicknamed bambi by you since... forever, it feels like. of course, that makes you faline, his darling one and only. you're just like her, too, all playful and girlish and troublesome in the best way. "faline," he calls to you, his voice so sweet it's saccharine as he gestures for you to come over, "get over here. i missed you, girl."

bambi!michael who curls against you as you fist his dick, letting his head rest along your shoulder as soft, shaky breaths escape his lips. "oh, oh baby..." he murmurs as you stroke along his length, thumb running gingerly along his slit. large hands, eager hands, needy hands grip along your rear, forcing you to stay close even after he's finished. while panting, he kisses against your collarbone, "you're too good to me, mhmm... so good, mama."

bambi!michael who grins against your cheek as you spoon him from behind, pumping him fervently and whispering in his ear. "gonna come for me, daddy?" you ask michael, a heat rushing over you as he nods eagerly against you. hips stuttering, toes curling, dick fully erect and weeping— "looks like daddy wants to come," you muse, "gonna give me every last drop, aren't you, daddy?"

"oh, mama... yes, gonna give it all to you, just keep going, just like that," he coaxes, his hand covering yours, urging you to go faster. "daddy's close, you're doing so well, daddy's almost there—"

"look at that," you whisper, swallowing as his dick (so big for such a subby man) twitches and cum begins to flow and squirt out. "such a mess for mama."

he kisses your jawline, then nips lightly, "can't help it." michael's lips find your ear to murmur, "you always make daddy feel so good, ma."

bambi!michael who's such a submissive, he'll top you if you want him to. he's such a sweetheart that if your pussy's really aching, he'll rub it. more than that, he'll suckle on your clit, working with his mouth until you spill yourself along his lips and chin. then, he pounds into you, asking if it feels good and moaning about how he's gonna fill you up just how you like it.

bambi!michael who, in between practices with his brothers and recording his own album, off the wall, struggles to fall asleep unless you're by his side, rubbing along his shoulders and back. michael adores feeling your body heat seep through cloth and skin as the night goes on; there's nothing more relaxing than having his sweet faline near.

looking for more?

i'm sure the bambi/faline nicknaming has been done before on mjblr but i wanted to put this out anyways. i just wanted to write some subby mike w a side of soft dom slightly older reader + rlly wanted to test out the concept of daddy/mama kinks simultaneously. hotter than i expected, imo. there's no story here so i can't promise a pt2 or anything LOL this is just like soft subby mike vibes and smut. it might even just be freakslop and, if so, i apologize. regardless, ty for reading.

jaafar glanced up through his curls, his dark eyes immediately locking onto yours in the crowded room. the quiet, knowing smile he gave you made your heart do a little flip.

"you're supposed to be answering the questions," you told him from behind the camera, shaking your head with a fond grin.

he read your lips, his smile widening until his eyes crinkled at the corners. "i'm trying, i really am," he said.

one of the puppies suddenly wriggled free from his lap and scampered right across the floor toward your shoes. you crouched down carefully, picking up the little ball of fluff before it could trip anyone.

"looks like you've got a helper," the interviewer joked, gesturing for you to come closer.

you hesitated for a second, smoothing down your top and adjusting your braids, but jaafar was already patting the spot on the rug right next to him. "come here," he murmured, his voice low and sweet.

you walked over and sat cross-legged beside him. the second you settled down, jaafar leaned over and pressed a quick, warm kiss to your cheek before scooping another puppy into his arms.

"okay," jaafar smiled, looking right into the camera lens while his hand reached over and slid into yours on the carpet, fingers entwining naturally. "what was the question again?"

jaafar sat cross-legged on the colorful rug, surrounded by six wriggling puppies. you sat right beside him, a tiny golden retriever already asleep in your lap while a french bulldog tugged gently at the hem of your jeans.

the producer said from behind the camera. "jaafar, how would you describe your style in three words?"

"relaxed, comfortable, and..." jaafar started, but he cut himself off with a quiet laugh as a black lab pup tried to climb straight up his shirt. "and puppy-proof, hopefully."

"what about you?" the producer asked, turning to you.

"cozy, and currently covered in dog hair," you replied, gently scratching behind a pup's ears. jaafar smiled warmly at you, his hand casually resting over your knee.

"next question. what’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?"

jaafar paused, thoughtfully running his fingers through his curls while holding a pup against his chest like a baby. "just stay grounded and take everything one day at a time. don't lose sight of what truly matters."

"and for you?" the producer asked.

"to protect your peace and always stay true to yourself," you said softly, leaning your shoulder against jaafar’s.

"what’s been your favorite meme that’s come out from one of your projects?"

you and jaafar shared a instant, knowing look before breaking into a laugh.

“the striped pants for sure. definitely the pants,” you said.

jaafar shook his head with a wide grin. "i still get sent edits of those every single day."

"if you could swap places with any movie character for a day, who would it be?"

"spider-man," jaafar answered without hesitation, swinging a plush toy around for two golden puppies to chase. "swinging through the city seems like the ultimate freedom."

suddenly, jaafar let out a soft "ow" followed by an instant laugh, squirming on the rug. a tiny frenchie was fiercely locked onto jaafar's big toe through his sock, shaking its little head back and forth.

the entire crew erupted into laughter.

you laughed, reaching over to gently pry the puppy off his foot. "you okay over here?"

"he caught me off guard," jaafar giggled, rubbing his toe while scooping the offender up into his arms. "you’re going in air jail, cutie."

"last question," the producer said, still chuckling. "what are you most excited for the fans to see next?"

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been sitting on the couch. You barely remembered unlocking your front door.

The sharp ring of the landline echoed across the house. There was no doubt in your mind it was Michael. You could already hear his excuses.

A shaky laugh escaped your lips as your mind processed the situation, then it dissolved into a quiet sob.

You tilted your head back, blinking furiously against the stinging tears that threatened to spill.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry.

You didn’t want him to have to pick up the pieces he had broken.

You just wanted him.

Michael kept telling his driver to go faster. His foot restlessly bouncing against the car floor.

His thoughts were a mess. Dread and guilt bubbling up inside of him so viciously he had to crack the window to ease the growing nausea in his stomach.

He’d messed up.

He’d messed up so bad.

He knew what tonight was.

Tonight was a promise. A commitment to you. A night to dedicate to your relationship. To declare that no matter how busy and chaotic his life was, it would never stop him from being with you.

But it was exactly the opposite.

He expected anger.

He expected rage.

He expected you to be standing at home, makeup a mess from the tears he’d made you cry, waiting to shout and scream at him for messing up once again.

And he knew he deserved it.

So, by the time he had unlocked the front door, he was prepared for the worst.

“Baby?” he called out, his soft, shaky voice echoing against the walls of the foyer.

No reply.

“Baby? Are you here?” He called out again, walking through the large ornate room.

He felt like he was trespassing in his own home, he didn’t think he deserved to be in the same room with you. Not after the utter betrayal he had pulled today.

As he stepped towards the living room his eyes caught you immediately. Curled up on the couch, still in your new dress, heels abandoned and kicked across the floor.

His brows furrowed, he felt his face physically drop at the sight of his beautiful girl so upset. He parted his mouth slightly as if he were to say something, but a broken gasp of air replaced the words on his tongue.

He looked down at himself, his shirt wrinkled, his shoes scuffed, his tie pulled loose.

He didn’t look like the man he wanted to be.

No.

He looked like what he knew he was.

A disappointment.

A sharp gust of air was inhaled into Michael’s lungs, a preparatory task for the speech he was about to give.

He had rehearsed it over and over. Thinking of any way to apologize without making yet another empty promise.

But before Michael could get a word out, you stood.

For a split-second Michael braced himself, expecting to face your wrath.

But your arms wrapped around him, pulling his thin frame close to yours.

His arms felt heavy, stiff and still as you squeezed him.

He had ran through every possible scenario in his mind. He had prepared himself for you to scream, to cry, to curse at him or even break up with him. But the possibility of you actually wanting to be near him?

He hadn’t expected that at all.

He was hesitant to move; he didn’t want to ruin this. Not when just moments before he was convinced, you’d cast him away. His large hands cautiously moved, hovering just above your waist.

“Angel…I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out of him before he had the chance to wrap his arms around you.

“I got caught up at rehearsal and then I had to meet with the tour manager, and I- I should’ve been watching the time. I should’ve left earlier, I should’ve called.”

“I-I should’ve been with you.”

Michael rambled in your ear, you could hear the anxiousness in his voice, the subtle tremble in his tone, the way he kept stumbling and stuttering over his thoughts barely taking a breath before rushing into the next apology.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing you even closer than before, as if you’d slip away if he loosened his hold.

You cut him off as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling close to him. You breathed in the strong scent of his cologne, the familiar scent filling your nostrils as your hands slowly ran up and down his back.

Your lips lightly brushed against his skin as you whispered. “It’s late Michael.”

Michael’s expression fell, throat tightening as he swallowed hard. “I know” he murmured “I know, baby. I’m sorry- I just…” His voice gave out, cracking as his head rested on top of yours. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You didn’t respond immediately, slowly letting your hands travel up and down his spine. Long fingernails running down his linen shirt, the sensation creating goosebumps along his skin.

You didn’t want to fight.

You couldn’t have been bothered

You just wanted him.

You wanted to feel him.

“Can we go to bed.”

Michael faltered for a moment, blinking a couple times.

“Y-yeah.” he answered quickly, acting with an urgency to not break the somewhat peaceful essence you were exuding. “Of course, baby.”

A long slender finger lingered just below your chin, softly he tilted your face towards him. Your glassy eyes met his and you could see the concern and worry swimming in his brown doe eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright, angel?”

You gave him a small nod. “Just…” you broke eye contact with him, pupils flickering down to look at the hardwood floors under you. “I just want to feel you.”

Michael softened instantly, his entire demeanour losing that anxious edge he had carried with him since he opened the door. “Oh angel…” he whispered it so quiet, his thumb softly brushing across the soft line of your jaw. “I’m here…”

When you both reached the bedroom, it was basked in the warm glow from the small lamp on your bed-side table. Your duvet pink and plush was draped over the soft mattress.

Michael sat on the bed first, it dipping slightly as he settled against the headboard. His eyes gazed up at you, hands reaching out to beckon you close to him. “C’mere mama…”

You were slow getting onto the bed, the tight fabric of your dress restricting your legs movement. Your hands slide forward, positioning yourself next to Michael.

You laid on your stomach, one hand holding up your head and the other resting on your thigh. The room was quiet, the soft crickets outside being the only noise infiltrating your shared space.

Slowly, your hand travelled up and down his thighs, you felt the seams of his trousers under your fingertips. “I wish you were there.” You whispered fingers dancing further up his leg.

Michael sighed, his eyes fluttering. He was always so reactive to you. “I know. I should’ve been there.”

“Yeah…” your said in a hushed tone, using the pointed end of your finger nail to trail the inside of his thigh. “I just miss you.”

Michael’s lips jutted out slightly into a subtle pout, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I miss you too baby.” His large hand reached towards you, his thick fingers cupping your cheek. “I thought you wanted to cuddle.”

Your shoulders lifted. “Hm.”

A faint smile appeared on Michael’s face “Hm what baby?”

“Wanna feel you.” You murmured, nuzzling your face into his cheek. “Wanna touch you.”

Michael’s lips parted, a small gasp of air escaping him. His eyes softening. He thought you’d be pushing him away, forcing him out of the room by now, berating him about how utterly careless and unkind he had been with your heart.

You craving him was the last thing he expected.

“You sure baby? You don’t want space…or anything?” Michael had to stifle a gasp as he felt your delicate hands begin to slowly unbutton his trousers, a glimmer of light reflecting off the gold button.

“You gave me plenty at the restaurant.” You reply was the snappiest thing you’d uttered to him today. “Just want to see you.”

Your hands pulled down the waistband of his trousers, impatiently tugging on the fabric, a silent signal for Michael to lift his hips up.

“Y-yeah whatever you need angel.”

You pulled his trousers down until they pooled around his ankles, leaving just his boxers. He was already growing at your soft touches, his cock subtly twitching.

“Take it off.” You demanded tugging on his red button up. Michael was quick to oblige, his warm palm abandoning your cheek to quickly rip apart his shirt.

He acted with urgency. He didn’t want to disappoint you further tonight.

As his thick fingers fumbled with the small buttons your hand was roaming over the growing bulge under his briefs. You slid your palm up and down, feeling the heat of him twitch underneath the soft cotton.

“So hard for me.” you whispered softly, a small smile gracing your lips. Michael’s hips twitched in response, chasing even more friction.

“M-Missed you.” He managed to get out with a rasp.

Ever so softly your hand breached the waistband of his boxers, about to tug them down.

Then a large hand enclasped around your wrist. “Angel…” He said gently. “Let me…Let me make you feel good.”

You hummed for a moment, pondering his proposal, fingertips playing with the stretched elastic.

“But I want to.” You pouted, beginning to tug the elastic desperately.

“You sure?” He mumbled out, having to suppress the urge to buck back into your palm. “I wanna make it up to you baby.”

Your eyes flicked up at him, looking through your long lashes. “Then listen.” Michael immediately noticed your tone. Your voice was heavier, drowning in desire.

He felt his throat dry, his head frantically nodding. “I will.” His hand released your wrist, giving you the reigns to do whatever you pleased. “I will…I promise.”  

A hum of satisfaction left your lips. “Good.”

You had tugged his briefs to pool around his ankles with his trousers. His cock sprang free, slapping up against his stomach. It was already leaking, an obvious sign to how desperate he was. “Oh baby.” You cooed, seeing the way his length twitched, aching to be touched.

“Been so long.” He heaved out, restraining himself from pulling you closer to him. “So…so…long.”

“Mhm.” You hummed softly, your hand slowly wrapping around his aching tip. “Whose fault is that?”

“M-Mine.” He whimpered out, a soft mewl escaping him as your thumb gentle grazed the split making him whine. “I-It’s my fault.”

“It is isn’t?” Your hands slowly started to glide down his length. He was so heavy, the familiar weight of him in your hand making heat pool in your core.

As your hand started to move Michael began to get more vocal. His plump lips forming an ‘o’, thin brows knitted up as he tried so desperately to stifle his breathy moans but he was hopeless.

“Y-Yes it’s mine…ngh” Michael’s hand reached down to hold your cheek again but you moved away.

“Uh uh.” You tutted at him. “Did I say you could touch?”

Michael whined, his hands begrudgingly moving to grab onto the duvet. “No you didn’t” he squeaked out.

Your hands were moving slowly, dragging out each and every pump. Slowly sliding from the top, making sure to softly squeeze his sensitive tip then slowly running down until you reach the base of him, pausing for just a moment before sliding back up to continue the agonizing loop.

Michael’s breath was ragged, mewls and whimpers spilling out fast and unrestrained. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward, aching for more. “Mama…P-please- a little faster.”

Your hand halted, slowly sitting up to be level with his eyes. You heard the gulp of Michael’s throat as your eyes squinted slightly. “Faster?”

Your tone was cold, your breath hitting Michael’s cheek as he batted his eyes away from you. Unable to match your fiery gaze.

“Please.” He squeaked out, his hips bucking against your stationary hand, badly aching for your touch.

“Do you think you deserve it baby?” you pried leaning so close that your lips brushed against his.

He was lost in you. He couldn’t help but try to capture his lips in yours. “N-no.”

“Exactly.” You replied sharply. “Let’s not make anymore demands. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes baby.”

You nodded satisfied, your free hand coming up to rest just below his chin. His doe eyes looked at you confused, unsure of what to make of your action.

“Spit.” You commanded, shoving your open palm closer to his lips. Michael paused for a second, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your hand. He obliged though, spitting into your palm, his lips coated with his own saliva. “Good boy.”

He mewled at that, cock twitching in your hand at the direct praise.

Your hand left his lips and met your other hand at the base of his cock, slowly twisting to coat his hardness in his own spit. It was so dirty, so nasty, the simple act of you commanding him making it feel like he could erupt at any moment.

Despite the fuss you made about his request, you did begin to go fast, the dual sensation of both of your hands on him had him mumbling and moaning for you. His chest heaved, the knot in his stomach tightening.

“F-Feels so g-good baby.” He whimpered, brows tight, eyes squeezed shut, sucking on his lip to make a hopeless attempt to stifle the pathetic moans that escaped him. “Oh baby- baby…shit. Please…ngh d-don’t stop.”

Your lips curled up into a smile, seeing him writhing just by your hands made something deep inside you coil up. You felt your own heat starting to beat, arousal coating your new lingerie.

“Look at me.” You whispered to him, your voice was so soft in his ear, but your tone was stern. Michael shuddered as your breath brushed past his flushed cheeks, his eyes met yours, tears brimming, glazed over with utter desperation. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Use your words baby.”

A loud whine escaped him as your thumb teased his tip, the constantly sensation of you touching his most sensitive area making it so hard to get anything out without crying. “Oh- Oh baby…I can’t think- can’t think straight. Wanna touch you…wanna be inside that sweet pussy- oh baby.” He threw his head back a loud cry erupting out of his throat. “You make me feel so good baby- I’ll be so good …mm I promise! ‘m gonna come baby- you’re making me feel so g-good. f-fuck just like that mama, your hands feel so good…’m gonna cum baby.”

“You’re gonna come for me hm?” you mewled, keeping the same pace, stroking, twisting and teasing.

“Yes! Y-Yes mama ‘m gonna come for y-you.” He was so close, his breathing was rapid, his toes curled into the mattress. That warm coil deep in his core was so close to releasing, everything ached, but it ached so good.

His hips bucked up chasing his orgasm, hair sticking to his face. “P-Please I- oh baby!” You looked at him, his tip was so red and desperate. Pulsing with need, slowly leaking begging to explode.

Your eyes glazed over with a new darkness, a devious thought creeping its way into your mind.

Michael let out a strangled groan, a string of pleases and whimpers as his hips began to stutter.

Then you took your hands off him.

Michael let out a heartbroken noise, a whine so loud. “N-No baby n-no why’d you stop.” His hips twitched trying to find the warmth of your hands once again but all he got in return was the cold air.

You settled back on the bed sitting on your heels, looking at the mess you’d made out of him, his skin was clammy and beaded with sweat. His hair stuck to his lips, cock twitching pathetically, the tip throbbing in pain. “You don’t deserve to come.”

Michael’s lips suddenly sucked in and then jutted out, a broken noise escaping.

Did he just cry?

“I- I’m s-sorry mama- please…please I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want baby please.” He moved suddenly, the sheets rustling under him as he crawled closer to you.“I’ll do it baby…anything. I’ll be good, I swear. Anything you ask…I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll lick you for hours, I can do whatever you need- just baby please don’t stop touching me. It hurt so b-bad…I’m aching, I’m losing my mind here baby please I can’t take this.” His hands found your waist as he sat on his knees, tugging you close, anything he could possibly do to get your delicate hands back on his aching cock he’d do.

“You left me in that restaurant alone for over an hour Michael.” You gazed at him meeting his pleading eyes. “Do you know how humiliating that is?”

Michael felt that familiar guilty feeling punch him right in the gut. He should’ve known you wouldn’t let him off so easy.

And he knew he didn’t deserve to get off easy either.

“I know- I know baby ‘m so sorry.” Suddenly he felt extremely vulnerable. He was fully bare in front of you, his cock still standing tall and aching as he hung his head with shame. “I shouldn’t have- I should’ve been there.”

“And I got all beautiful for you…” Your finger pressed against his bare chest, the stiletto shape of your nail leaving an indent on his skin. “Took me like an hour just to do my makeup.”

Michael was quick to grab your hand, enclosing his large, warm palm around yours. His hands felt weak, but he still pulled it up to his wet lips, leaving a soft kiss against your knuckles. “You look so beautiful angel…My pretty girl- ‘m so so sorry.”

You didn’t shy away from his touch in fact, you leaned into it. “You still don’t deserve to come.”

Michael left out a little huff. “Yeah…I know.” He pulls you closer, so that your knees brush against his. “I meant it though.”

“Meant what?” you whispered.

“I’ll do anything.” That same desperate look was back, he sucked his lip biting it softly. “I mean it mama.”

Your eyes flicked up, the slightest grin appearing. “I‘m still mad at you.”

“Then be mean to me baby. Whatever you need.”

Michael had tested your patience for weeks. It was time for you to test his.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, he could barely think any more. Not while you were laying in between his thighs, hands squeezing the base of his aching cock, your tongue softly flicking over his tip.

“Baby please- please I can’t” he pleaded his muscular thighs squeezing trying to push himself closer to his climax. “Fuck- baby please.” He wasn’t sure what he was begging for any longer. He wasn’t sure if he wanted mercy or his climax more.

You pouted wiping your moist lips over his throbbing tip. “But you said you’d do anything.” Michael let out a high-pitched cry, his thighs clenching so hard they squeezed your sides. “This is part of it.”

You sped up your strokes just enough to send his hips thrusting towards you. His hand flew to his mouth, biting on the knuckle of his pointer finger trying to stifle the ragged cry that threatened to spill out of his swollen lips.

Once again, he was so close, just on the precipice of finally releasing but his fate was held in the soft delicate hands that worked up and down his shaft.

“God look at you.” You crooned, not stopping the relentless pace you’d set. “So sensitive for me aren’t you baby?”

He nodded frantically, eyes squeezing tightly as a salty tear escaped from the corner of his eye. “I- I can’t take it mama…I can’t take it any longer.”

“Then tell me to stop.” You challenged him, hands beginning to slow.

“N-No” He cried out. He wanted this. He wanted to prove to you that for once he could follow through with his word. And if that meant being broken apart until he was nothing but a mumbling mess. Then he’d do it.

“Exactly.” You smiled up at him. “You like this don’t you baby? You like being a good boy for me don’t you?”

Michael’s cock throbbed when you called him that. Of course he liked it. He was an utter mess, and he didn’t want it stop. He just wanted to break, as long as you would still be there to pick up the pieces.

The room was muggy, air thick with the scent of him. He was whining loudly, legs shaking. You could feel the desperation buzzing off of him. You’d kept him suspended in this agonizing balance between pain and pleasure for long enough. You had him exactly how you wanted him.

“Do you want to come?” You cooed softly, your pace beginning to quicken once again.

Michael’s response was immediate. “Yes! I need to so bad.”

“Need to what baby?”

Michael whined as your hands continued to pump him without any mercy, chest heaving. “Need to come. I need it s-so bad mama.”

Your eyes looked up at him once again to admire the state of dishevelment he was in. “Come for me baby.”

The command hit Michael with force, and he shattered in your hands. His hips snapped forward, an unrestrained cry ripping from his throat as he lost all control. Your hands didn’t stop, continuing their relentless assault as he released all over you. The stickiness dribbled down your fingers, entangling you in a sticky mess that smeared over his cock leaving Michael to shudder and sob.

His head was thrown back, neck veins prominent and throbbing as he was completely devoured by the force of his orgasm. His body was reacting completely to your will, still twitching and jerking at every miniscule movement you made against his sensitive cock.

He slumped back against the headboard, body laying limp as he began to recover from the overwhelming release you had given him. “B-Baby.” He whimpered out one hand weakly stretching out to pull you against his chest.

You looked down at your hands wiping them against his quivering thighs. “Look at you.” You whispered softly. “Did so good f’me Mikey.”

Michael’s lips softly twitched into a smile. You hadn’t called him that all night. The familiar nickname settling between you comfortably.

“I’m sorry mama…d-didn’t mean to make such a mess.” He whispered out. His heart swelled as you begun to shuffle, laying on top of his chest. His long arms wrapped tightly around, squeezing you close.

“Shh…” you hushed him, leaving a soft peck on his collar bone. “It’s okay.”

“I won’t miss a date again baby I promise- I’ll never make you feel like that again. I won’t ever stand you up again. I promise.” The sincere apology tumbled out of his mouth, his neck craning down to leave a soft kiss against your hair.

“I know Mikey…I know.” Your lips trailed up his neck until they met his lips. He melted into the softness of your lips, cradling your cheek to bring you closer.

“I love you so much angel.” He whispered, voice croaky and tired. He held you close, fingers tracing the planes of your face. “so so much…don’t wanna be without you.”

You relaxed into him, melting into the comfort his embrace gave you. “ ‘m not going anywhere without you. I love you.”

authors note: hii!! thanku sm for readingggg this was my first ever smut fic AHHH im so nervous posting this and hopefully it's good. leave a comment or a reblog with any feedback and my reqs are open if u have any ideas!! okay byeeee ilyy

However, his jealousy over you choosing someone other than him seeps through his work, stopping the devastating curl of his digits against the spongy spot that was having you see stars, pulling a whine from where you are on his lap.

“W-Why’d you stop?” His fingers stay still inside your cunt, how it aches for just a mere twitch from them. He hums into the side of your head, lips shy from the shell of your ear. “Am I making you feel good?”

Is he serious?

You nod nonetheless, anything to get him to start back up again. “Yes, yes, s-so fucking good..!”

And so he does, but a complete contrast from before. It’s slower now, deliberate. Pausing at the edge, not fully leaving you, only to linger, letting you feel the absence before pushing all the way back inside. Hand gripped to your hip, so you won’t dare to pick up the pace and try to grind down onto them.

“He doesn’t have you moaning like this, does he?” He muses, watching the way you screw up your face from the mention of your shitty boyfriend. Your cheeks by now should be reddening from humiliation, the way you’re seeking dire touches from your best friend rather than the man you’re dating, how he’s asking questions he already knows the answer to.

Michael just wants to hear you admit it. To admit who’s got you shaking like this, to admit that this is really happening, both of you not in a dream. That you’re giving him all the reign to touch you however you want, because you won’t find it better with anyone else but him.

You answer when his fingers halt again, not letting you ignore him. “No, he doesn’t.” You don’t have to pick your head up to know he’s smiling, thumb now pressed barely to your clit, enough to make the friction even more unbearable.

“Will you leave him?”

Your broken sounds are cut short, caught off-guard by his question. It didn’t occur to you, but you think about how the guilt will burn you from the inside out to go back to your boyfriend right after Michael had you unraveling in his hands.

Apparently you waited too long for his liking, fingers dragging out. You shake your head, needing back that overwhelming fullness. “No wait, I will! I want you, not him. He can’t make me feel good like you do.”

You’ll say anything to get him to reward you with your gradually built-up pleasure, but he sees right through it. The circling of his thumb to your clit stops, fingertip lingering at your entrance. “I don’t think you mean that.”

Your voice is wrecked at this point, clinging onto the fabrics of his shirt for god knows how long. “Please, please, I mean it! Just—“

With devastating ease, he presses back in with two fingers this time, babbles dying on your tongue. Your body clenches tight to adjust, but it’s pointless as he pulls out again.

“Tell me again. Who makes you feel good? Me or that punk?”

Your muscles flutter, thighs twitching. “You!” And he’s back to it, this time thrusting his fingers in sharper, firmer, shifting his wrist to reach new depths.

It was all so fast, being so use to his torturous slow strokes. It had your orgasm arriving quickly, feeling it come from all the way down to tip of your toes, pulse stuttering.

Until he stopped himself yet again. “I want to hear you say it one more time, because I’m still not sure if I believe you.”

The dining room at Hayvenhurst is a battlefield of starched linen and clinking silverware, but the real war is being waged under the table, silent and secret. You sit across Michael, playing the part of the perfect, demure new wife, smiling politely at Joseph’s booming anecdotes about Motown’s glory days and Katherine’s gentle questions about your family. But under the cover of the long tablecloth, your stockinged foot is a soldier on a mission.

You start slow, a gentle brush of your toes against the cuff of his trousers. He flinches, just barely, a quick intake of breath that he covers with a sip of water. You wait a few minutes, letting the tension build, before you press the flat of your foot against his ankle. This time, he doesn't flinch. He stills, going rigid for a fraction of a second before forcing himself to relax. You feel a thrill course through you, a dangerous, intoxicating power.

The conversation flows around you—Jermaine is holding court about a new bassline, Janet is begging for more dessert—but your entire world has shrunk to the space between your foot and the growing hardness in Michael’s trousers. You become bolder. Your foot slides up, up, tracing the inseam of his pants until you’re pressing, firm and deliberate, against the straining fabric of his crotch.

He chokes. It’s a small, almost silent sound, but you hear it. He drops his fork, and it clatters against his plate with a noise that seems to shatter the evening’s calm.

“Michael, honey, are y’alright?” Katherine asks, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Fine, Mother,” he manages to say, his voice a strained, breathless thing. He clears his throat, a low, rumbling sound that does nothing to hide the slight tremor in his hands. He pointedly avoids your gaze, staring down at his plate as if the secrets of the universe are etched into the design of the floral pattern. You smirk into your napkin, taking a delicate sip of wine. You’ve got him.

Later, the family is sprawled out in the vast living room, the glow of the television casting a blueish hue over sleepy faces. A cheesy sci-fi movie is playing, one with rubber aliens and questionable special effects. You’re curled into Michael’s side on the loveseat, a perfect picture of newlywed bliss. The blanket over your laps is your accomplice.

Your hand, warm and sneaky, slides from its resting place on his stomach down to the waistband of his jeans. He tenses again, that familiar, delicious rigidity that tells you you’re getting to him. You trace the button with your fingertip, a slow, maddening circle.

“You’re killin’ me,” he breathes, the words a low whisper meant only for you, lost in the laser blasts from the television.

“Am I?” you whisper back, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. You nip at the soft lobe, a sharp, little bite that makes him jump. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

You lean in closer, your breath a warm puff against his skin. “Remember last night?” you murmur, your voice a husky secret. “When you had me bent over the end of the bed? You were so deep, Michael. I could feel you in my throat.”

A violent shudder racks his body. He grabs your wrist, stilling your hand, but he doesn’t push you away. His grip is tight, a silent plea and a desperate warning all at once. “Stop,” he grits out, but the word lacks conviction. It sounds more like please.

“I was thinkin’ about it all through dinner,” you continue, relentless. “Thinkin’ about your hands on my hips, pullin’ me back onto you. Thinkin’ about how y’sounded when you came.”

“Okay,” he says, his voice strangled. He sits up abruptly, dislodging your hand. “Okay, I think it’s, uh, it’s bedtime. For us.”

The words are a little too loud, a little too sudden. Janet, who was half-asleep on the floor, blinks up at him. “But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, Mike, don’t be a spoilsport,” Jermaine calls out from the armchair, not even bothering to look away from the screen.

“It’s late,” Michael says, standing up and pulling you with him. He keeps the blanket strategically draped over his front, a flimsy shield for a very obvious problem. “We have… an early start tomorrow. Lots t’do.”

Katherine gives you both a soft, knowing smile. “Alright, you two. Don’t stay up too late… talking.”

You just smile sweetly, allowing him to tow you toward the stairs, your fingers laced with his. You can feel the thrum of energy vibrating off him, a tightly coiled spring of desperate, frustrated need. The walk to his room is silent and charged with anticipation. The second the door clicks shut behind you, the spring snaps.

He’s on you. Before you can even register the movement, you’re pressed back against the door, the solid wood a shock against your spine. His mouth crashes down on yours, not a kiss but a conquest. It’s hungry, demanding, punishing. His hands are everywhere, tangling in your hair, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the full, hard length of his erection straining against his jeans.

“You,” he growls against your lips, between bruising kisses. “You are a menace. A goddamn tease.”

“You liked it,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

“I hated it,” he says, but he’s grinding against you, a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that steals the breath from your lungs. “I hated it, and I loved it, and I wanted to flip this whole damn table over and take you right there in front of my mother.”

The crude, desperate confession sends a bolt of pure lust straight through you. He tears at your clothes, not bothering with buttons or zippers. The sound of fabric ripping is loud in the quiet room. Your blouse is a casualty, then your skirt. He doesn’t care. He just needs you naked. Now. He backs you up, walking you toward the bed, shedding his own clothes in a frantic, clumsy dance. His shirt flies over his head. His jeans are kicked away.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you fall back, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. He looms over you, all lean muscle and raw, coiled power. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, the gold chain he’s wearing glints, a thin, perfect line against the warm brown of his skin. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, his eyes so dark they look black. He looks feral, untamed.

“Spread ‘em,” he commands, his voice a low, rough command that makes your stomach clench.

You obey without hesitation, parting your legs, baring yourself to him. He falls to his knees on the bed between them, his gaze raking over you, hot and possessive. He runs a single finger up your slit, and you’re so wet it glides through with no resistance. He brings the finger to his lips, tasting you, and a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Soaked,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “All that teasin’ got you this wet, didn’t it? You love making me hard in front of my family.”

You can only whimper in response, arching your hips up, a silent, begging plea for more.

“Not yet,” he says, denying you. He climbs over you, settling his hips between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He supports himself on one arm, caging you in. The gold chain dangles from his neck, the cold metal a whisper against your sternum.

Then he enters you. Not slowly, not gently. He slams into you in one hard, deep stroke that punches the air from your lungs. It’s so good, so intensely, overwhelmingly good, that you cry out, a loud, unrestrained sound of pure pleasure.

He immediately claps a hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” he hisses, his hips pulling back and then driving into you again, even harder this time. “You wanna wake up the whole house? You want my brothers t’hear what a dirty girl you are?”

You shake your head, your eyes wide, mewling against his palm.

“Then you gotta be quiet,” he says, his hips setting a punishing, relentless rhythm. The bed is creaking, a rhythmic protest that seems deafening in the silence of the house. “Can you do that f’me? Can you b’quiet while I fuck you?”

You nod again, tears of pleasure pricking the corners of your eyes. He removes his hand, replacing it with his lips, swallowing your whimpers and moans. He’s fucking you with a brutal, desperate intensity, each stroke claiming you, branding you as his. The gold chain is swinging with the force of his thrusts, a hypnotic pendulum dangling just above your face.

You watch it, mesmerized. The way it catches the light, the way it sways with the motion of his body. You reach up, your fingers trembling, and close them around the cool metal. You tug, gently.

He groans, breaking the kiss to look down at you. “What’re y’doing?” he pants.

Without answering, you open your mouth and lift your head, capturing the chain between your teeth. The taste of metal is sharp on your tongue. You suck on it, gently at first, then harder, your tongue swirling around the links.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his rhythm faltering for a second. He looks utterly stunned, like he can’t believe what you’re doing. “Oh, you nasty girl. That’s so… nasty.” He sounds awed, completely undone by your filth.

You look him right in the eye as you continue to suck on the chain, moaning around the cold metal as he starts to move again, his thrusts becoming even more erratic, more powerful. The combination of the chain in your mouth and the feel of him pounding into you is almost too much to bear. Your body is a live wire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

“Let go of it,” he commands, his voice rough. You obey, letting the chain fall from your lips with a soft clink against your teeth. “You don’t get t’taste that yet. You have t’earn it.”

He pulls out of you suddenly, leaving you feeling empty and aching. Before you can protest, he flips you over, pulling you up onto your hands and knees. He grabs your hips, yanking them back toward him, and slams into you from behind.

The new angle is devastating. He’s hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You bury your face in the pillows to muffle your cries, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Uh-uh,” he says, one of his hands tangling in your hair and pulling your head back. “I wanna hear you. But not too loud. Jus’ f’me. What’s my name?”

You’re too lost in pleasure to form words, only managing a desperate, high-pitched whine.

He yanks your hair again, a sharp, stinging pull that sends a jolt straight to your clit. “I said, what’s my name?”

“Mikey,” you gasp, the name torn from your throat.

“Louder,” he demands, his other hand coming down hard on your ass with a sharp smack.

“Michael!” you cry out, the sound half-muffled by the pillow.

“That’s right,” he growls, his rhythm turning absolutely merciless. The sound of skin slapping against skin is obscene, a filthy, wet rhythm that echoes in the room. “Say it again. Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Michael! It belongs t’you!” you sob, completely overwhelmed.

“Goddamn right,” he grunts, his movements becoming jerky, less controlled. You can feel him getting close, the way his cock swells inside you, the way his grip on your hip tightens almost to the point of pain. “You gonna come f’me, baby? You gonna soak my dick?”

“Please,” you whimper, the only word you can manage. “Please, Michael…”

“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice a low, husky rumble. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. “Come f’me, now. Let me feel it.”

That’s all it takes. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, a blinding, paralyzing force that rips a scream from your lungs. Your whole body convulses, your muscles clamping down around him so hard you think you might break him. He lets out a guttural groan, a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss, and follows you over the edge, spilling into you in a hot, flooding rush.

He collapses on top of you, his full weight pinning you to the bed, both of you panting, sweaty, and utterly spent. The room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of your own heart in your ears.

After a long moment, he pushes himself up, rolling off you and onto his back. He pulls you into his arms, tucking you against his side, your head resting on his chest. His heart is beating just as hard as yours, a steady, reassuring drum against your ear.

“Are y’okay?” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his fingers gently stroking your sweat-damp hair.

You manage a weak nod, a contented hum vibrating in your throat. “Okay” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

For a while, you just lie there, boneless and blissful, listening to the steady thump of his heart against your ear. The air in the room is thick, smelling of sex and sweat and him. You can feel the mess between your thighs, a sticky, warm reminder of what he just did to you. It’s filthy and wonderful.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “B’right back,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest. He gently disentangles himself, slipping out of the bed. You watch him go, admiring the lean lines of his back, the tight muscles of his ass as he walks toward the adjoining bathroom. He moves with a languid grace that’s at odds with the feral energy he’d possessed just moments ago.

You hear the water run, a quiet, gentle sound. He returns a moment later, a warm, wet washcloth in his hands. He kneels on the bed beside you, his expression soft, reverent.

“Let me,” he says softly.

You part your legs for him without a word, a gesture of absolute trust. He’s gentle, impossibly so. The warm cloth is a soothing balm against your sensitive, swollen flesh. He cleans you meticulously, his touch light and careful, wiping away the evidence of your frenzy. It’s an intimate, almost holy act, a stark contrast to the raw, primal fucking from before. His gaze is focused, intense, as if this is a ritual, a sacred duty.

When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside. But he doesn’t move away. He stays kneeling there, between your thighs, his eyes fixed on your now-clean center. He looks up at you, a question in his dark eyes. You hold your breath.

Slowly, deliberately, he brings his right hand toward you. He extends one long, elegant finger. You watch, mesmerized, as he slides it inside you, a slow, shallow thrust. Your breath hitches. He’s not trying to arouse you again; he’s collecting.

He withdraws his finger, glistening in the dim light. He brings it to his lips, closes his eyes, and tastes. A low, satisfied groan rumbles in his chest. He opens his eyes and looks at you, and the look in them is so dark, so possessive, it makes your stomach clench all over again.

“Us,” he whispers, the word a vow.

He leans over you, and you meet him halfway. The kiss is slow, deep, and impossibly dirty. You can taste yourself on his tongue, the sharp, musky flavor of your own desire mingled with the salty taste of him. It’s a shared secret, a filthy communion. It’s everything.

He settles back beside you, pulling you into his arms again, your back against his chest. He arranges the blankets around you both, tucking you in as if you’re something precious. The gold chain, the source of so much delicious sin, rests against your shoulder, a cool, heavy reminder.

He’s quiet for a long time, just stroking your arm, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Y’know,” he says, his voice a sleepy murmur against your ear, “if y’keep teasin’ me like that at dinner, I’m goin’ to have to start tyin’ you t’your chair.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “Is that a promise or a threat, Mr. Jackson?”

“Both,” he says, tightening his arm around you. “Definitely both.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. The frantic energy is gone, replaced by a warm, sated contentment that wraps around you both like a blanket. Outside, the house is silent. The family is asleep. The world is quiet.

Here, in this room, in the circle of his arms, you are home.

“Go t’sleep, Mrs. Jackson,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

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