cer❣︎

you’d fallen asleep at michael’s, a common occurrence at this point in your friendship.

you should’ve left hours ago, given he was holed up in the studio and there was no point in you staying, but he practically begged you to. saying he’d be done in half an hour.

and like always, the clock drifted well past midnight. your eyes drooping tiredly as you tried for the third time to read the book you’d picked up to pass the time before eventually succumbing to sleep, practically collapsing in his sheets.

and usually, you woke up with the early morning sunlight kissing your eyelids. michael asleep beside you still in his clothes from the day before with an arm draped over his face.

so, when you were roused from your sleep, your eyes fluttered open in confusion at the darkness that surrounded you. not knowing why you were awake so early, eyes squinting at the clock and reading 3:46am. your mind still incredibly groggy and barely registering anything happening around you, head plopping back onto the pillow.

then you heard it.

your eyes flew back open, half convinced you were just hearing things as the mattress slightly shifted next to you.

then you heard it again, with sharp clarity.

a moan.

with furrowed brows, you turned to look over at him, barely making out the form of michael in the dark but you could faintly see his silhouette moving.

your mind, scrambling for an answer, landed on the possibility of maybe his stomach hurting.

but then he whimpered, his head buried in the pillow and his hips rolling into the mattress.

realization slammed into you violently and you felt terribly warm all the sudden. not knowing what to do.

you couldn’t wake him up. the thought alone was both embarrassing and terrifying. not even knowing how he would react.

it’d be better to slip away and act like you didn’t—

your name left his lips in a muffled pant, his hips grinding and a broken sound tore out of him, slipping past the cotton of the sheets and hitting your ears.

you were frozen and staring at him like you’d just seen a ghost. a blooming warmth immediately spreading throughout you, without warrant.

he then suddenly rolled over, making you flinch, and the dim glow of the alarm clock painted his body in a hazy green.

your eyes locked onto his face, the way his bottom lip was drawn between his teeth and the deep furrow of his brow as small sounds left him. one of his hands buried in the sheets tightly while the other mindlessly palmed himself.

despite your better judgment, your gaze lowered, breath hitching at the sight of his cloth covered erection being squeezed by his large hand. his hips lifting slightly off the bed.

you needed to leave, not trusting yourself. feeling as though you were intruding.

in your haste to get away, you threw your legs off the bed, forgetting where the book you had been reading was, sending it toppling to the floor with a loud thud.

“shit.”

“what—“ michael said heavily behind you, sitting up straight from the sudden noise and rubbing at his eyes.

you stared at him. taking note of his flushed cheeks, blown pupils under tired lashes, and the way his dick was a tent in his pants.

he reached blindly for the lamp on his side of the bed, the clink of the switch echoing in the room, before a warm glow lit the space.

he squinted at you, mumbling your name. “what’re you doin’?”

your lips parted, not meaning to, honest to god, but your eyes went back down to his crotch.

his brows creased, following your gaze, before he went eerily still… then as if reality had finally dawned on him, he yanked the pillow from behind him and placed it over his lap.

“oh my god, ‘m sorry.”

“it’s okay!” you practically squeaked.

michael squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “did i… fuck, did i wake you?”

“no!” it came out far too quickly and high pitched.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t— god, this is embarrassing.” he looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole as he fell back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands and breathing heavily.

and since you were an idiot and he was your best friend, in a weak and poorly thought out attempt at comforting him, you rested a hand on his thigh. the muscle there twitching at the contact, but you didn’t pay it any mind, not even as he dropped his hands from his face and stared at you with a heavy expression.

“it’s okay, mikey. we’re all human. we all have… those.”

he raised a brow at your confession and you looked away from him at the realization. “i… i just meant that it’s a completely normal—“

“i know it’s normal.” his breath caught around his words. “you were just not supposed to see that.”

“why? because it was about me?” stupid stupid stupid.

his eyes widened at you almost comically before he squeezed them shut and threw his head back again. “oh my god.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—“ your hand slid further up his leg and his whole body seemed to twitch.

“please stop touching me.” he groaned out. “you’re making it worse.”

“but you don’t have to be embarrassed—“

“not that. good lord, you’re killin’ me.” he threw the pillow off of him as if to make a point and on cue his dick twitched in his pants.

your mouth went dry.

he was huge.

and your hand was still on his thigh.

“unless you plan on helping me with this, please stop touching me.”

your breath hitched at his words, eyes locking on his, heavy and dark.

you still didn’t move. you didn’t know why. maybe you did.

there was always this unspeakable thing sat down in the middle of your friendship with him. something that went neglected and tiptoed around. never to be addressed even when there were moments. moments where you thought you were losing your mind. chalking it up to your imagination. that he was just a guy and it didn’t mean anything.

when he’d get annoyed every time you mentioned a man. when his hands rested heavily on your waist when he was talking to you in a crowded room, his voice low and whispering in your ear. the way he’d brush up against your ass when he’d pass by, even though there was plenty of room. how you caught him on more than one occasion looking at your chest when you came over to swim. when his hand would rest on your thigh and draw circles into the skin underneath the table at dinner. once, his pinky even brushed against your underwear when he did that, making you flinch so hard your knee hit the table and he muttered a whoops. when he’d help you put on sunscreen and his finger tips would dip below the fabric just to get every spot, his thumbs grazing lightly under your breasts and along the curve of your ass. now that you thought about it, he always went to the bathroom immediately after.

your mind then decided to follow the reckless curiosity of wondering if he had done this before. had… dreams about you while you were sleeping right next to him. wondering if that’s why he always insisted you spend the night.

your hand squeezed his thigh and his breath hitched.

he had been toying with you all this time.

asshole.

“do you need help?”

his lips parted in surprise, fully expecting you to fling off of him and run away.

but then his brows set, catching the shift in your demeanor, that he had been caught out.

he didn’t waste a breath as his thumbs hooked on the waistband of his pants and then down to his thighs, his cock springing free and slapping against his lower stomach with a slick sound from the amount of pre-cum that was beaded on the tip.

your eyes widened at the suddenness of it, and the size of him. you were half aware of his… it was hard not to be all those time he pulled you into his lap when it was crowded and you needed a seat, trying not to pay any mind when he’d harden slightly beneath you. another thing that now made you wonder what his intentions were…

jesus christ.

his hand took hold of your wrist that was gripping his leg like a life line and brought it to his cock, resting your hand on the searing skin of him and he twitched beneath your palm.

michael wrapped your fingers around the shaft, hissing slightly through his teeth, his eyes gone incredibly dark as he guided your hand up, then down.

you wet your lip without even thinking about it and he groaned at the sight.

“c’mere.”

michael jackson masterlist

Michael found the plane ride back to the US quite stuffy. Despite him being in a private jet catered just for him, the air just didn’t seem to move at all where he sat. Usually, he would use his travel time as a means to get away from the world, maybe play some games and read some books. Sometimes he’d even pull playful harmless pranks on his staff. But right now, all he wanted was to get home right away and rest.

He leans his head back on his seat and lets out a big sigh as he closes his eyes, exhaustion radiating off of him. The Dangerous Tour had just ended. Quite early, actually. Not because he wanted it to, but because he had to. The physical and mental toll of constant traveling and performing show after show had got to him. His body was starting to hurt in places he didn’t even know could hurt and the jet lag started to get too much to handle.

Michael loved to perform. It was his whole life.

But even the King of Pop can only handle so much.

“We landed, Joker.”

His eyes snap open at the sound of Bill’s voice and he turns to face the man to his right. He smiles at him and with his hoarse voice, he utters, “Thanks, Bill.”

The man pats his shoulder. “Time to get up so you can rest up.”

He nods and moves to get up from his seat. He stretches his limbs out, grunting as his joints crack. The ache in his legs and back was almost too much to bear and he fights the urge to wince every time he takes a step towards the exit of the plane.

“Forgot your hat,” he hears Bill say from behind him. Before he can even turn around to grab it, the older man has already situated the accessory right on top of his head.

Michael chuckles, adjusting the hat. “Thank you.” Bill hums in acknowledgement and goes to lead him out of the aircraft and down the stairs.

He’s met with a cool breeze of wind as he steps down onto the concrete floor. He scrunches his nose up as the sharp scent of jet fuel greets him. He supposes he’s glad to be back in his home country after the absolute hell that his body has been put through these past months. Honestly, he felt like he was about to collapse.

“Let’s go,” Bill says from beside him. Too exhausted to say anything more, Michael nods and continues on to walk to his car.

—

Not even a few seconds after Michael had sat down in the backseat of the car, he falls asleep. Bill decides not to wake him as he drives, aware of how much physical and mental exertion the star had to go through.

Truthfully, he’s been very worried about him. He sees how much he overworks himself, how much he drives himself to exhaustion. It was hard to watch, having been Michael’s bodyguard since he was a child. He was almost like a son to him and he hated seeing him this fatigued.

He's at a red light now and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel as he thinks. An idea pops up into his head and he checks his watch.

9:23 PM, it said.

He hums. Not too late. There’s still time.

Then the stoplight turns green and instead of driving in the direction of Neverland, he makes a different turn.

—

“Bill, this isn’t home.”

“I know.”

“…Why are we here?”

“Figured a massage would help you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a small smile. A massage does sound really good. In fact, it was just what he needed. Bill knows him too well now. “Thank you,” he says.

Michael stares at the building outside the car window. He’s been here before. A lot of times, actually. He always comes to this place whenever he felt like his muscles were getting too tight. And he always knows just who to go to whenever he’s here.

“Alright, come on, kid.” Bill then steps out of the car and opens the door for him before the both of them jog towards the entrance. Most times, fans would be swarming him and give Michael no room to even walk but right now it was oddly very calm. He makes a mental note to thank his team for not leaking any information this time around.

They walk through the door and immediately, the smell of eucalyptus and peppermint is noticeable. The lights were dim and a relaxing tune plays in the background. The woman at the desk perks up at the sound of the door opening and smiles immediately when she sees who has entered.

“Mr. Jackson, Mr. Bray! We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

The older man chuckles and pats Michael on the back lightly. “Just thought Joker here would need a little relaxing time after his tour.”

Michael smiles and immediately, he says, “Good evening, Elise. Is she here?”

The woman nods excitedly. “She is! Your usual package then, sir?”

He nods in response and Elise goes to write something down in her log book before looking back up at the two. “I’ll be right back, let me go get her. Please have a seat,” she says as she gestures to the cushions behind them before disappearing through the doorway behind the desk.

Michael sits down on one of the seats and Bill follows shortly, sitting down with a little huff. “You want a massage too, Bill?”

The man in questions winces and shakes his head, moving to grab one of the newspapers set on a nearby table. “Nah, I’m alright. Not really in the mood for it right now. I’ll just wait out here.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, Joker.”

Michael hums and nods his head, running his hands up and down his thighs as he waits. He can’t deny that he’s started to feel a little excited. He loved getting massages from this place, they always seemed to know what he needed work with the most.

He also really liked his massage therapist. You, for that matter. You with your soft and delicate hands, your gentle voice, and your breathtaking smile. You knew just where to poke, prod, and knead. You knew his body almost like the back of your hand and Michael knows he can completely put his trust on you.

“Michael?”

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice and when he looks up, he can already some of the stress leave him just at the sight of you. “Hey,” he says, standing up from his seat.

You beam and wave at him before looking over at the man seated next to him. “Hi, Bill. No massage for you tonight? We have other therapists available.”

Bill shakes his head. “Not tonight, kid. Just for Mike here.”

You nod and look back at Michael. “Let’s go?” You gesture down the hall and he hums in response.

He turns back to Bill for a second and says, “Be right back!” The older man only waves him off with a smile.

You lead him to his designated room which he was very familiar with. With how much he’s been getting massages at this place, the spa had reserved a private room for him and him only.

It wasn’t too big of a room but the ambience was nice and cozy. It was dim with orange lights and plants scattered around. There was a single massage bed situated right in the middle while a soft tune played in the background. It had all the essentials for a typical spa room but this one had its own bathroom and shower behind the door in the corner.

Michael doesn’t really care much about the extravagance of the room. All he wanted was to be able to unwind and relax his sore muscles. But the thing was the massage had to always be done by you. And it wasn’t because he might have a little crush on you (a huge one really), but because he knows you’re the only one he can trust with seeing him in his most vulnerable state.

You’ve been his friend and massage therapist for years. Since before his skin condition had started to slowly take over his body. You never spoke a word about it, never stared at him in judgment, and that’s why he feels as though he could only trust you.

“You’re back early. I thought the tour would go on for a little longer?” you ask as Michael takes a seat on the bed and you rummage around the room for the essentials.

He shrugs. “Had to end it sooner… don’t think I can handle doing any more shows right now,” he replies, taking his fedora off his head and fixing his curls.

You hum in response. “Anything I should be worried about? Injuries? Pain?” You crouch down to search through one of the cabinets.

He shakes his head. “No injuries, really. But my back’s been killing me. Legs too.” He winces when he reaches over his shoulder to rub on a particularly sore spot on his back.

“Must’ve been from all that dancing.”

“Yeah… getting too old,” he says with a slight smile.

You snort at that. “You’re thirty-five, Mike. That’s still your prime.”

He chuckles humorlessly and looks down at his fingers. “Doesn’t feel like it…”

“Hey,” you call out. You tsk and let out a sigh as you straighten yourself back up, now with a few towels in your hands. You go to walk towards him and stop once you’re stood directly in front of him. He looks up at you and you point your finger. “No talking like that in here. This is a place of relaxation and peace.”

A grin creeps up onto his face. “Right, sorry.”

You nod in approval and reach over to gently squeeze on his bicep. “I’m gonna make you feel better, okay? Like I always do.” You then place the towels you’ve brought out on the edge of the massage bed and place your hands on your hips. “Towels are right here. I’ll wait outside while you undress and I’ll knock after a few minutes.”

Michael nods and hums in response, watching as you make your way out the door, closing it behind you. He turns to look at himself in the mirror hung up on the wall on the other side of the room.

He looks tired. Spent. Drained. There were dark circles forming around his eyes. These were the side effects of touring and traveling from country to country. There wasn’t any time for sleep. If there was, he’d barely get a few hours in anyway with the leftover adrenaline from his shows.

He lets out a sigh and gets up, starting to shed his clothes off.

—

A few minutes go by rather quickly. As soon as he’s situated himself on the massage bed with his face resting down on cradle and a towel covering his lower half, he hears you knock on the door. “All good?” he hears you say from the other side.

“Yeah,” he calls out.

Then he hears the door open and shut as well as your footsteps padding across the floor. He feels your presence right beside him and he listens to you open a cap. He raises his head a little to peek at you and grins when he catches your eye. “Keep your head down and relax,” you say as you rub some oil on your hands.

“Is that jojoba oil?”

“Of course, your favorite.”

He smiles and goes to rest his face back down again on the cradle. He hears you move again, then you ask, “Pressure?”

He grunts, shifting a little. “Go all out, please.”

“Anywhere you want me to focus on?”

“Uh… my upper back and legs.”

“Mkay, I’m gonna start now.”

He hums in response and closes his eyes in anticipation. A deep sigh escapes him when he feels your soft hands slowly press down on his back, rubbing up and down as the heels of your palms pushes against his flesh.

It’s how you always start off the massage, he’s come to notice. You always start with feeling out and kneading his muscles, checking for tight spots and knots, your thumbs pressing down on the space near his spine. He breathes out another sigh and lets himself relax into your touch. He can already feel himself getting some relief.

Your hands then move to his upper back, still gently kneading but he notices the deepened pressure of your fingers. You’re onto his shoulders now and he lets out a quiet moan when you press down and swipe your thumb around a knot.

See, one thing about Michael was that he was a vocal man. From his playful adlibs in the studio, to voicing out his opinions, to when he feels sensations in his body. He can be really loud when he wants to be, and a massage is no exception.

At first, he was a little shy about it. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he’d choke down the moans and whines that would threaten to erupt from his throat. You ended up noticing how tense he was and made it clear to him that you were fine with whatever noises he made as long as he was relaxed. He appreciated your sentiment and from there, he allowed himself to fully let go.

And now, as you work on some knots on his upper back, he lets some noises out. A little whiney grunt when you press a little harder down on his skin, a sigh when you move to a different area, and a low moan when you hit just the right spot.

You press down on a particularly tight spot on his back. “Ah…” he moans, his voice all breathy.

“Am I hurting you?” he hears you whisper as you soothe the ache in his muscles.

“No… feels nice,” he replies.

Then you continue on massaging his upper back, occasionally using your knuckles to deepen the pressure. You stay on that spot for a little longer before you move to the lower part of his back. Again, applying more pressure to tight spots.

When you move on to his legs, he sucks in a breath and hisses when you maneuver a particularly sore spot on his left calf.

You notice and pause for a second. “Too much?”

“No just… could you be a little gentler on my calves? Yeah- mm…” He lets out a sigh when you apply just the right amount of pressure.

You use your fingers to gently stretch his skin and then you press the heel of your hand onto the muscle, slowly running it up and down his calf. Michael lets out tiny whimpers as you do. He just loved the way your hands felt. It was as if you could see all his weaknesses and all his aches.

He then feels your hands travel up to his thigh. He shudders a little at the feeling. Michael always did feel like the skin around his thighs was more sensitive. He usually didn't have a problem with you poking, prodding, and kneading around that area. But right now, he feels as though that he was more delicate than usual. He chalks it up to the fatigue.

You knead around the meat of his thigh for a bit, going higher and higher but stopping just below where the towel covering him ends. He whimpers again. Suddenly, all he can think about was how much he wanted you to go higher. Maybe go under the towel. Maybe even take the towel off entirely and-

His eyes snap open in realization.

Fuck.

No, he can't be having these thoughts about you.Why was he even thinking about this?

Was it because of how tired he was? It can't be. Because when he felt exhausted, just the thought of doing anything that strenuous would make him cringe. And also, not only was he your client, but you were his friend too.

His very attractive and gorgeous friend that he might have wanted to ask out on a date before but didn't because he was scared. That's besides the point, though.

He can't be thinking about you like this. Especially not now.

Not when he was completely nude under the damn towel.

You've moved on to his other leg now and Michael struggles to keep his thoughts at bay as he bites down on his lip to keep his moans down. What if …. What if you just ask him to flip over and crawl over him to-

Oh no.

He just felt his dick twitch. He's getting hard. This is bad.

And the fact that you were still massaging his thigh wasn't helping. He feels scummy, you're just doing your job and now he's having these perverted thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried to close his eyes and keep his dirty thoughts away, they only came back stronger and worse.

No, he should stop the massage right here before it gets out of control.

He lifts his head up and calls your name. "…Um, could we… maybe end early?"

He sees you blink up at him in slight surprise, lifting your hands off of him. "Why? Did I do something?"

He shakes his head. "You didn't, it's just… I'm so tired… I don't wanna fall asleep accidentally…" A bullshit excuse. Even he knows it.

You furrow your brows in confusion. "You've fallen asleep during sessions before, it's not a problem."

Shit. "…I think I wanna head home now, if that's okay… I'm just really exhausted…"

You stare at him, studying and scanning his face. He gulps. It was a long shot, you always did manage to see right through him. "I mean that's fine, but if I did something wrong, just tell me-"

"You didn't."

"Michael, you got really tense when I was working on your thighs. I'm just worried that I made you uncomfortable or something."

Of course you noticed that. Of course, you did.

"You didn't, okay? I promise, I'm just…" Hard. Excited. Turned on. He can't bring himself to look at you now so he puts his head back on the face cradle and groans. "I'm embarrassed to say…"

"Hey, come on it's just you and me in here."

"Don't laugh."

You raise a hand and do a zipping gesture on your lips as a response. There was a silence for a bit as the anticipation in the air strengthens.

Then he lets out a big sigh. "…I have an erection."

A beat.

He sees you roll your lips in, as if trying to surpress a laugh. He huffs and points at you.

"Don't."

"I'm not!"

"I see you holding it in!"

You smile at him and he glares at you. You giggle slightly and shrug, replying with, "I mean I kinda noticed something was off… you were trembling a little."

Michael sighs and pushes himself up to sit on the massage bed properly, carefully maneuvering the towel so that he wouldn't expose himself. He shifts, covering his crotch with his hands. "Okay, so now that I've made you uncomfortable, I think it's best if-"

"Who said I was uncomfortable?"

He blinks. "…What?" He brings himself to look you in your eyes and notices how much they've changed. They're lidded now, a little darker than before. You're staring at him so intensely and it's making his heart race.

You shrug. "It's not a big deal, I mean… If you want I could help you with it…"

He pauses. You wanted to help him with his boner. He knows what you're offering, obviously. He's a grown man. And quite frankly, just the thought alone has made his dick twitch again. But you're his friend, he doesn't want you to feel forced just because he couldn't control himself.

"…I don't want you to feel like you have to…"

"I don't, Mike. Think of it as like… a friend helping out a friend."

A friend helping out a friend. Ridiculous. This was going to complicate things a lot. But you're just so pretty, and he's just so hard. And with the way you're looking at him, how the hell was he supposed to resist?

He swallows again. "…Okay," he utters.

You tilt your head and grin. "Yeah?"

He nods. "Yes… yes, please…" He doesn't even register the plea that comes out. But you seemed to really like it because your eyes practically sparkled at his response.

His heart hammers in his chest as he watches you make your way closer to him. And when you get down on your knees, he has to suck a breath in to calm down his nerves. But then, he realizes something.

He looks around for a moment and spots the fluffy towels that you've placed on the edge of the massage bed. He reaches over for it and hands them to you. You take them with a raised eyebrow. "For your knees," he says. "I don't want you getting hurt."

You smile at that. "Aw, such a gentleman," you say as you situate the towels under your knees. You fix your positioning and gaze up at him. Then your eyes shift down to the tent in his covered crotch for a moment before you return your stare back up. "May I?" you ask, your hand coming up to fiddle with the towel covering him.

"Yes," he breathes out. Your fingers then wrap around the soft material of the towel and you lift it off, placing it to the side.

Michael lets out a sigh when his thick cock is finally fully unrestrained. It stood tall, with slick already oozing out of the tip. He glances at you and feels his cheeks warm up at the sight. You were staring at his dick so intensely with your mouth slightly agape. It's like you've been wanting this just much as he did.

You look back up at him. "Can I touch?"

He nods slowly. He was practically shivering with anticipation now. A hiss escapes his lips when you wrap your hand around him. It feels warm, still a little slippery from the oil that you used on his body earlier. "You have such a pretty dick…" you say, almost like you were in a trance.

You press your thumb onto the tip and Michael gasps. You glance back up at him and smile. "You like that?" you ask as you slowly start to stroke him up and down. Swiping your thumb over the tip whenever your hand goes up.

"Yes," he whines out, leaning back on his hands as he looks down at you. He bites down on his bottom lip as you continue to stroke his cock. He can't let himself be too loud. He can't risk people from outside the room hearing him moan pathetically.

You notice his strained whines and say, "Mike, you don't have hold back."

"But-"

"It's okay, baby, no one's gonna hear. We're far from reception."

He mewls at the nickname."But what about- I don't know- ah- the- the other customers?"

"It's late. You're the only one here right now."

That's good enough for him. He lets himself moan out loud when you give his dick a little squeeze. "A-Ah! Please-" he squeaks out. It all feels so surreal. He's secretly wanted you for so long and now you were on your knees in front of him with your fingers wrapped around his aching cock.

Suddenly, you reach your other hand up to play with his balls and his hips jerk up at the feeling. "Fuck!" He groans, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Too lost in the feeling, he doesn't notice how wide-eyed with desire you've become as you watch him writhe under your touch. "Oh, I didn't know you were so sensitive, Mike." Your voice comes out sultrily. "Was this what you were thinking about earlier?" you ask, tilting your head and smiling seductively.

He whimpers out, "Y-yes, yes- ah!" His hips jerk up again when you press your thumb against his slit.

"Yeah?"

"Mm- Mhm- yes- yes." he gasps.

"Dirty," you remark, continuing to pump on his leaking cock. You lick your lips as you stare down at it, his pre-cum spreading all over your hand. "Would you like it if I sucked you off?"

Michael's eyes go wide as he looks down at you and immediately he says, "Please- please, I need it- o-oh…!" His moans are cut off when you lean forward lick a strip from the base of his dick all the way up to the tip.

And the view. Fuck, you look so good looking up at him like that.

Your eyes stay on him and he's just unable to look away. And he damn near loses it when you wrap your lips around the tip. He shudders, letting out shaky moan of your name. You swirl your tongue all over his tip and he shivers. "Oh fuck, oh fuck!"

He feels like he's going hysterical. He'd never ever thought that this would happen. You always just seemed so out of reach despite him consistently showing up at your workplace for years. But now, with how eager you were to please him, with how your eyes are sparkling up at him as you take him further into your mouth, he knows now. You were just as desperate for this as he was.

You start to bob your head up and down now with one hand simultaneously still stroking on him and the other still gently toying with his balls. You're slurping all over him, slobber and spit starting to mess up your face. His hands fly to your head as his fingers start to tug on your hair. "Bab- Baby- please." He can't handle it anymore, he's getting closer to the edge.

He closes his eyes and lets his mouth drop open as he gasps out your name. "I'm so close. God, please, I'm… fuck!"

.

.

.

Meanwhile…

Bill stands up from his seat and walks down the hall in search for the bathroom. It's been roughly around forty-five minutes since Michael had disappeared with you. And quite frankly, the drinks that the people at the spa had given Bill while he waited was starting to go down quick.

He spots the bathroom near the end of the hall and goes to walk towards it. It just so happened that he would have to pass Michael's designated room and when he does, he takes a pause.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!"

He tilts his head in confusion and stares at the door for a second. He knew you were a skilled massage therapist but this was something else.

After a moment he shrugs and sighs as he continues on his way to the bathroom.

Late night had settled over the Hayvenhurst estate and rain was pounding against its windows. Inside Michael's room, a candle crackled quietly and burned into a pool of oil while Luther Vandross played quietly from a stereo in the corner of room. Michael had goosebumps up his arms from the contrast of the warm air in the room and the cool breeze flowing through the curtains. He didn't notice though, his focus hadn't left you once.

Under him, you had your legs spread around his hips and the sheets were warm and slightly damp with the evidence of what you and Michael had been up to for the past hour. He rolled his hips slow and deep like he was savoring every little movement. Every time his curious hips prodded at that little spot deep inside you, your tummy jumped hard against his and your walls fluttered around him. When he felt it, a high shaky little sound left his throat.

Soft brown eyes stayed on yours as he bit down on his bottom lip to quiet himself. Michael brushed his lips against your ear and murmured,

“Can you do it for me, baby?” He used that real soft, sweet tone he always did when he really wanted something from you. “The thing where you...squirt." he dropped his voice to a softer octave at the last word as if it was forbidden. "Please. Wanna see it again.”

Instantly, you grew embarrassed and your face went warm.

“Mikey, don’t start.” You moaned against his cheek.

A soft little sound that sounded a lot like a bratty huff left his throat. He cupped your jaw so couldn't turn away. His doe eyes got even bigger, shiny and pleading as his bottom lip pushed out in a subtle pout.

“Please, baby. I’ll be so good for you. I won’t tell anybody. It’s just us.” He kissed your lips sloppily in between sentences while his hips kept moving. "You can trust me" Another whiny, shaky moan slipped out of him when your stomach jumped again, sweat slicking between you two from the heat of his body against yours. “You’re sooo pretty when you cum like that. I love you so much....Please lemme feel it again. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

You reached up and let your fingers trail slow down his abdomen, dragging your nails lightly and sending chills down his spine.

"Anything?"

His tummy clenched hard under your touch and a cracked moan left his lips. His hips stuttered like he’d lost his rhythm completely— which was nearly impossible for Michael Jackson, but that's how infatuated he was with you.

“Don’t— don’t do that,” he whimpered. “It’s too much. Baby, please—”

You already knew what touching him while talking dirty did to him. It always brought him right to the edge, he was such a desperate little lover boy.

“You get so needy when you want somethin' from me,” you murmured. “Look at you. Shakin' just from me touchin’ on you. Throbbin’ inside me like a good boy.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered and another needy whimper left him as his hips jerked without warning. You felt him throb hard inside you, pressure heavy in your belly. He looked almost frustrated about it, like his body was betraying him.

“Don’t say it like that,” he breathed, more pouty now. “You know what it does to me. M'gon cum if you keep talkin’ like that. I can’t hold it when you talk dirty to me. I never can. You’re bein’ mean, baby”

“Maybe I want you to cum for me...and in me”

Then, Michael made the mistake of looking down between your bodies. Your cream was painting the base of his dick like melted ice cream on warm brown skin. Michael fought to keep his eyes from rolling back and soft sounds slipped past his lips as he dropped his forehead against yours, hips still rolling against yours almost frantically. He was so cute when he got like this, flustered and needy.

One of his large hands slipped between your bodies and long fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles while he prodded gently at your insides, trying to figure out what felt best for you. He held your eye contact consistently the whole time, even as his long lashes fluttered and his eyes threatened to shut from the way you were soaking him.

The next stroke hit that tender bundle of nerves deliberately, like muscle memory. Your tummy jumped hard again and your walls pulsed rhythmically around him. The wet sound of your pussy taking him deep filled the quiet room. Michael’s doe eyes never left yours, even as needy little whimpers left him and his thighs started trembling. His arms were on either side of your head, encasing you possessively as he kept pressing wet kisses to your swollen, pouty lips.

“I know you don’t wanna,” he whispered. He sounded desperate and was almost embarrassed at how needy he sounded, but there was still soft stubbornness under it. “But it feels sooo good when you cum on me like that. Please lemme feel it. I’ll be so good for you after. I-I promise." his hips stuttered and his voice cracked when you clenched around him like you were trying to take him deeper. "I’ll go real slow… I’ll hold you the whole time… you don’t even have t'look if you don’t wanna. Just this once mama.”

You cupped his face and squeezed gently, pushing his lips into a cute pout.

“You can’t help yourself, huh?” you asked softly, brushing your lips against his as you held his face and kept his fluttering eyes trained on you. “Just beggin' so good for me. Can't even help how needy you sound, can you? You get this look every time you want me to squirt for you. All needy and stubborn at the same time. Look how weak you get for it.”

His whole body shivered and a cracked, soft moan spilled out of him, hips still stuttering slightly and losing their rhythm. You felt another strong throb inside you and his arms were starting to shake where he held himself up. He went still for half a second like he’d heard you, then started the same precise angle again anyway.

“Stop,” he whined. “Please stop talkin’ to me like that. M'serious baby. I’m right there. I can’t— and you’re still not givin’ me what I asked for”

Like he was on a mission, he kept circling your clit gently with your slick and stroking deep against that spot, eyes locked on yours the whole time. Every time your tummy jumped against his he made another soft, desperate sound. When you pulsed around him he whimpered like it was almost too much. His rhythm started to falter and he tried to slow down, hips pulling back just a little like he needed a second. But you locked your legs around his hips and pulled him back in deep.

"Uh-uh. Don't run from me Mikey" you whispered against his lips.

Michael made a high almost scared sound involuntarily, like the pleasure was overstimulating. His forehead dropped against your collar bone before raising again. His big eyes stayed on yours, slightly teary-eyed from the intense pleasure and bottom lip still pushed out just a little.

“You’re’ close, I can feel it mama. Creamin' all over me, and it's gettin' louder. Do it for me. Please baby. I need it. It'll feel so good...I’ll be so good." His hips jerked without permission when you pressed your lips to his throat, tongue flicking against his pulse point. "I-I’ll stay real gentle, I promise. I’ll hold you the whole time. Please. I only get like this for you— and I asked so nice…”

He gently flicked his fingertips across your clit, changing the pace and forcing your legs to close tighter around his waist. He kept the same angle, continuously prodding that sensitive little spot inside you even though his arms were shaking from how overstimulated he felt. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The sensation tipped over and your back arched. A broken cry left your throat as the orgasm hit hard. Your stomach convulsed against his as a strong stream of wetness pulsed out of you around his dick, soaking both of you and the sheets. Your walls fluttered around him hard in heavy waves while you shook in his arms.

Michael’s eyes went wide when he looked down between your bodies the second he felt it start, watching the mess flood out around him. A soft shaky moan tore out of his chest and his hips stuttered hard.

“Oh my God—baby, look at you...it’s so much— I can feel it all over me—”

The feeling of you squirting around him pulled him right over the edge. His whole body tensed and his eyes rolled back hard as another higher pitched cracked moan left his throat as he started to cum inside you. It was loud enough that your hand flew up and covered his mouth so no one down the hall would hear. You did not need his brothers teasing y'all tomorrow.

He came hard, grunting and whining shakily against your palm, forehead pressed to yours. His body trembled while he spilled inside you in long pulses, throbbing continuously. The sheets were soaked. He stayed buried deep, dick still pulsing inside you through the last of it as weak spurts left him.

Even after the strongest waves faded he kept making small needy sounds against your hand, oversensitive and shaking, so soft and fucked out that every tiny flutter of your walls made him whimper again as his tummy convulsed.

"I love you so much" he mumbled against your hand, long lashes blinking away tears.

He only got like this for you, and it showed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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