────୨ৎ────

part I, the beginning.

you pushed open the heavy, soundproofed door to the control room. the windowless room full of sprawling mixing consoles and dreams. you stood in the doorway, clipboard pressed to your chest like a shield, trying to keep your breathing steady.

junior production assistant to teddy riley.

the words still felt unreal. twenty-four years old, fresh out of college, and somehow you’d landed your first real job on the most anticipated album of the decade. dangerous. michael jackson’s album.

how the fuck is this your life?

you hadn’t spoken more than a polite “good morning” since you started about a week ago. you’ve always been soft-spoken by nature, but around him, the instinct to stay quiet grew even stronger. you simply did your job: making sure the tapes were labeled and ready, keeping the schedule tight, taking detailed notes on takes, and quietly refilling water bottles before anyone had to ask.

you had never forgotten what teddy had told you on day one: “stay out of the way, but stay useful.”

so that’s exactly what you did.

you lingered silently in the back of the control room all day, every day. watching michael and your boss work for hours on end on a single beat. it took everything in you to keep your eyes away from michael. his presence was… intense. he was larger than life, yet almost as soft-spoken as yourself.

one afternoon, during a short break, michael stepped away from the microphone and walked into the control room, wiping sweat from his brow. teddy and the rest of your colleagues stepped out of the room for a chat. you stayed, quietly organizing the tapes for the next take, turning your head down to stay focused on your task.

he stopped beside you.

“you’re always one step ahead,” he said softly.

your heart slammed against your ribs. you looked up at him slowly. his large brown eyes stared down at you, warm but intense. you felt your cheeks start to heat up.

“just doing my job, mr. jackson,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. scared to step out of line.

a small smile tugged at his lips. “michael,” he corrected gently.

“michael.” you nodded shyly. returning a small smile to him, unsure what else to say, you went back to your task.

from that day forward, he interacted with you. it was always in small ways… a quiet “thank you” when you handed him fresh water exactly when his voice started to strain, or a soft “goodnight” as he headed out the door.

the days blurred together in a haze of creativity and caffeine. you moved quietly through the studio like a shadow, until michael found a way to pull you into the light.

it happened on a long thursday evening. the atmosphere in the control room was thick with frustration. michael, teddy, bill bottrell, and bruce swedien had been going back and forth for hours on a song structure that wasn’t quite locking in. the track, still untitled, kept falling apart in the bridge.

you were refilling water bottles in the corner when michael suddenly turned in his chair, his eyes finding you.

“what do you think?” he asked. the room went quiet. your stomach dropped. you froze, clutching an empty bottle.

“i… i’m sorry?” you whispered, voice barely carrying across the room.

michael leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at you with genuine curiosity. “the structure. the bridge into the chorus. you’ve been listening to every take. what do you feel is missing?”

your cheeks burned. you had never felt so put on the spot before. suddenly you became very aware of your age and lack of experience… and very aware you were the only woman in the room.

“i don’t—“ you started, terrified to overstep. your eyes looked towards your boss for guidance. you were just the assistant. the girl who made sure the tapes were labeled and the important people stayed on schedule. not someone whose opinion mattered to michael jackson.

“oh, teddy, you’re scaring her,” michael chuckled as he slapped teddy’s arm with the back of his hand. “tell her she can talk to me.”

teddy laughed at michael’s shove and lifted his hands, motioning for you to come closer. you placed the waters on the table and cautiously made your way over towards the men, your heart hammering in your chest.

“so?” michael asked, tilting his head to the side as he awaited your response. his eyes stared deep into yours as you quickly looked away from the way it made your heart leap in your chest.

after a long, calming breath, you spoke carefully, “the bridge feels… too expected,” you murmured. “it builds tension but then drops too safely into the chorus.” you paused for a second, moving so you were in between the chairs michael and your boss were sitting in, looking to get a better view of the board.

“if you held the note a little longer on the last line, really let it suspend, and brought the bass in underneath instead of the drums… it would feel more like a release. like a breath, you know?”

silence.

you immediately regretted speaking. too much. too bold. welp, you can kiss this job goodbye!

you looked over your right shoulder to find michael staring up at you, eyes bright with something new. he turned slowly back to the console, played the section again, then made the exact adjustment you suggested… holding the note, dropping the drums, letting the bass glide underneath.

the room shifted. the song clicked. teddy let out a low whistle.

michael leaned back, a slow, radiant smile spreading across his face. he looked at teddy and pointed in your direction. “you see that? she hears it. i want her in every session from now on.”

your breath caught. michael’s gaze returned to you, intense and focused in a way that made your knees feel weak. something shifted in that moment; he had locked in on you.

later that night, after the others had finally packed up, michael lingered. you were gathering your things quietly when he approached, hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks.

“your idea was perfect.” the sound of his voice stopped you dead in your tracks. it was like he stole all of the air from your lungs. you looked up at him, flustered as you tried putting together a sentence, anything.

“thank you…michael.”

he smiled at the sound of his name on your lips. you had expected him to slip out of the room quietly behind you, but instead he leaned up against the wall, studying you further.

you felt your breath hitch, unsure of what to do. you turned your attention to your things, trying your best to avoid direct eye contact with him. instead you focused on grabbing your scattered papers from the table in front of you.

“long day,” he said quietly, almost awkwardly, eyes still fixed on your every move. you nodded in agreement, avoiding his gaze. “was it a long day for you too?” he asked casually, pushing for an actual answer from you.

“i guess,” you mumbled as you looked up to view the clock hanging above the exit. 12:18 am. michael took notice of your slight movement and followed your eyes to view the time himself.

“what time did you get here?” he asked, his voice soft and curious. you had to stop yourself from looking at him as if he had three heads. why on earth would michael jackson care to hold such a mundane conversation with someone like you?

you turned your head in his direction, finally meeting his gaze. he looked so… normal.

“um, around 7, i think?”

“7 a.m.?”

“yeah,” you replied as you finished stuffing your notepads and folders into your bag, “guess it has been a long day.”

“is it tiring?” he inquired, refusing to let the conversation die. you shifted on your feet slightly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you looked back up at him.

“yeah,” you answered honestly, “but i don’t mind. this is everything i’ve ever dreamed of.”

michael studied your face, the way your eyes started to twinkle as you spoke to him about your dreams. he smiled at you, a soft and kind smile.

“what made you want to work in the studio like this?” he asked, real curiosity painted across his face.

“i’ve always been drawn to the magic that happens behind the scenes,” you answered truthfully, “the way one small decision on the board dictates the entire sound… i don’t know.”

michael smiled at you as you spoke, and the sight of him in front of you had your heart beating so loud you were scared he was going to be able to hear it. he stared at you, barely blinking as he took in everything about you. you felt… vulnerable? like he was figuring out every part of you right there in that moment.

“i know it’s late,” michael started, “but if you’re not too tired, i could show you a few things.”

every single part of you that was exhausted before was awoken like it had been hit with a bolt of lightning… and you knew it was all over your face. you couldn’t contain your smile as you very quickly dropped your bag down on the couch next to you.

“not too tired.” you grinned; you felt like you had hit the lottery. and michael couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm as you both made your way back to the console.

the hours slipped away. as you sat in your boss’ chair next to michael, the studio felt smaller. like the rest of the world had melted away. he made you feel comfortable instantly, speaking in a soft and warm tone that made you relax more and more with each passing second. he took his time explaining different techniques he had learned throughout the years, making sure you fully understood the process before he moved on to the next thing.

somewhere along the way michael started to sprinkle in some questions about you. he asked you things like: what kind of music moved you when you were a girl? what do you hope to create one day? how did it feel to be fresh out of college and thrown into this world?

you opened up bit by bit, your soft voice gaining a little more confidence as he listened so intently. he made it so easy, which shocked you. it amazed you how tentative he was. it seemed like he really cared about what you were saying.

in return, he began sharing pieces of himself, small at first, then deeper. he spoke about his bad tour, which had just wrapped up within the last year. what it’s like being away from home for months, sometimes years on end. in his rawest confession, he told you about the quiet loneliness that comes with being who he is.

and you were a goner.

you could feel yourself getting lost in his eyes as he spoke. the way he spoke so openly and honestly took you by complete surprise. yet, it felt natural. like you had known him forever.

“i’m sorry you feel so lonely,” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. michael stared at you, his big eyes growing even softer at your words.

“it’s okay,” he replied, looking to switch the conversation off of himself. “what about you?” he asked as he turned away from your gaze, almost shy-like.

“what about me?”

“are you lonely? or do you have someone?” he asked, voice softer than ever before. you felt your heart skip a beat at his question.

“no and no,” you answered, “not lonely. also not seeing anyone.”

michael scanned your face the entire time you spoke; you had never felt so listened to before. he made you feel like you were the only person in the world with the way he looked at you. you felt like you could stay there forever and never run out of things to talk about. it was almost four in the morning when michael finally glanced at the clock.

“you must be exhausted,” he said, voice husky from hours of talking. he stood and offered his hand to help you up. when your fingers slid into his, he didn’t let go right away, allowing his touch to linger. his hand was warm, and so much larger than yours.

“do you have a car here?” he asked softly, slowly dropping his hand from yours.

“no, no, my car is a piece of junk that’s always in the shop,” you laughed. “i’m just going to take a cab.”

“absolutely not,” michael protested, grabbing his jacket from the couch, “i’ll take you home.”

“it’s okay, really—“

“i’m not taking no for an answer,” michael replied, grabbing your bag to carry it for you without even asking, like he had been doing it forever. “let’s go.”

the drive was mostly quiet. michael was driving, something he told you was rare that he does for himself, and you were next to him, spewing out directions as the city lights blurred past the windows. when he pulled up outside your modest apartment building, the air felt thicker with tension.

michael turned to you, his gaze intense in the dim light. “thank you for tonight,” he whispered. “for being you.” before you could respond, he reached over and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your breath catch. you felt as if you were floating out of your body. “you’re different,” he finished, as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort. he moved towards you slowly, like he was giving you every chance to pull away, and pressed his lips gently against yours.

the kiss was soft at first, slow and respectful, as he gauged your comfort level. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss. his hand slid into your hair as he pulled you closer to him. his tongue gently grazed your bottom lip, asking for access, which you granted immediately. he kissed you with such passion it made your stomach drop, similar to the feeling of being on a rollercoaster. it was exhilarating. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“i’ve wanted to do that for days,” he admitted, voice low. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

you didn’t know what to say back to him. so instead, you sat there in the quiet dark. your heart pounding, your mind reacting. the first fragile boundary between the two of you finally crossed.

────୨ৎ────

part ii, the honeymoon stage.

the days that followed the kiss felt like a dream you were terrified of waking up from.

you did your absolute best to stay professional in the studio, but it was impossible to hide how giddy you felt whenever michael was near. every time he looked at you, your stomach fluttered and your cheeks warmed. a small, secret smile would tug at your lips when he passed you a note with a quick lyric scribble and a heart at the bottom. you found yourself constantly replaying the feeling of his lips, and the feeling of his tongue swirling around yours. you were completely drunk on him.

michael, meanwhile, was becoming completely obsessed.

he noticed everything. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. how you preferred your coffee with a touch of cinnamon on busy mornings. how you always smelled faintly of vanilla and the rose lotion you loved. the nervous little habit of biting your lower lip when you were trying not to speak out of turn. he catalogued it all.

that first week following the kiss, he started carving out time for the two of you outside the studio.

it began small. one evening after a long session, he took you to a private overlook in the hills before taking you home. the city sparkled below while he played unreleased tracks for you on a portable cassette player, his arm eventually slipping around your shoulders. the two of you sat there for hours, as he told you more and more about his life, saying “i’ve never felt safe enough to tell anyone these things before.”

another night, he brought you to neverland. it was 2 a.m., and there the two of you were, riding the carousel like children. michael’s laughter, bright and unguarded, mixed with the cheerful mechanical music as you spun under the twinkling lights.

“you deserve to have fun too,” he told you softly, watching you spin on the painted horse with pure adoration in his eyes. “not just work.”

that night was special. it was the first time he made love to you. you had never felt so cherished and completely cared for in your entire life. you had never been so intimate with someone before. yes, you’ve had sex, but you’ve never had someone be so gentle with you.

he took his time with everything. he took his time undressing you, his fingertips tracing every inch of newly revealed skin like he was memorizing every part of you. his mouth mapped your body while he placed warm, wet kisses trailing from your neck to your breasts, sucking gently on your nipples until they ached, then lower, across your stomach, until his breath ghosted over your core.

the first slow stroke of his tongue drew a broken, needy moan from deep in your throat. he was patient, devastatingly attentive, learning exactly how you liked to be licked and sucked. the wet sounds of his mouth working you open filled the quiet room, mingling with your soft gasps and whimpers. he hummed in pleasure against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

“that’s it, my sweet girl,” he praised, voice muffled. “let me hear you. you taste so good… so perfect for me.”

his tongue fucked you with slow, deliberate devotion until your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders and your fingers were desperately tangled in his soft curls. the orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. it was completely consuming, overwhelming, leaving you shaking and gasping as waves of pleasure crashed over you again and again. michael moaned against you, lapping up every drop of your release like he was starving for it, savoring you until your body had nothing left to give.

when he finally rose, the weight of his body settling over yours felt like coming home. skin against heated skin. his scent, cologne mixed with sweat, surrounded you. he positioned his thick cock at your entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time.

the stretch was intense, a deep, burning fullness that made you gasp as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, forehead pressed to yours, sharing the same ragged breath.

“are you okay?” he whispered, voice strained with the effort of holding back. his warm, slightly damp skin pressed against yours everywhere. his curls falling onto your face.

you nodded, nails digging into his back as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled by him.

“please… move.”

he made love to you like he was trying to fuse your souls together. deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. the room filled with the slick, intimate sounds of skin against skin, your soft, desperate moans, and his low, consistent praises. every thrust felt like it reached deeper than your body, like he was searching for parts of you no one else had ever touched.

“you feel incredible,” he groaned, voice raw and trembling. “so warm and tight around me… like you were made to fit me perfectly. i’ve never felt anything like this.” one of his hands stayed linked with yours above your head, fingers tightly interlaced, while the other worshipped your body. his thumb brushed against your sensitive nipple, trailing his palm down your side, fingers finding your clit to circle in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. every movement bound you tighter to him. you felt engulfed in him. lost in the heat of his skin, the taste of his kisses, the relentless pleasure building inside you until there was nothing left but him.

he brought you over the edge again like that, kissing you through your orgasm as you clenched and fluttered wildly around him, trembling and gasping into his mouth. the intensity left you sobbing his name, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as you pulled him closer. only then did he let himself follow, shuddering with a low, broken groan as he pulled out at the last second and pumped himself rapidly, painting your stomach with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

afterward, he collapsed beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in existence. his fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns on your back while he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your lips. you could feel the emptiness from him between your legs, the stickiness of his release on your skin, the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek.

“i’m falling so hard for you,” he whispered against your skin, voice raw with emotion. “you make me feel… insane.”

you curled tighter into his chest, surrounded by his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. in that moment, you felt utterly tied to him; body, heart, and soul. it was everything, and you had fallen completely.

you weren’t the first one to say it. you were lying with him on the large couch in his private sitting room at neverland, a week after the passionate night the two of you shared. the lights were low, with a crackling fire directly below the television playing his favorite cartoon. he was holding you in his arms, your face flush against his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he shifted slightly.

“i love you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “i know this is fast… maybe too fast, but i’ve never said those words and meant it this much before.”

it was fast. dangerously fast. but hearing those words from him, feeling chosen by him, made your heart swell so much it practically hurt. you lifted your head to meet his eyes. he was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“it feels like everyone always wants something from me,” he continued softly, lacing his fingers with yours. his grip was warm, almost a little too tight. “but you… you just give. you make me feel safe. i need you. i’ve never needed anyone the way i need you.”

the words made you melt. it was a dizzying rush of love mixed with the quiet thrill of being so desperately wanted by him, of all people. you were completely overwhelmed with emotion.

“i love you too,” you responded quickly, grabbing his face with both hands to pull him in for a steamy, passionate kiss.

the gifts followed immediately after. each one more thoughtful than the last, each one showing how deeply he paid attention.

first, a small velvet box waited on your usual table in the studio. inside was a delicate gold necklace with a tiny music note pendant. the note read: for the girl who hears the music in everything. wear this and think of me.

a few days later, a beautiful designer purse appeared at your apartment. soft leather in a warm gold-brown tone that matched his favorite dress of yours perfectly. “for carrying all those notes you take for me, i love you,” the card said.

then came the earrings. exquisite gold hoops with small diamonds that caught the studio lights. he’d noticed you admired a similar pair in a magazine left lying around. when you put them on with trembling fingers and looked up at him shyly, his smile was radiant.

“they suit you perfectly,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush your hair back so he could see them better. his fingers lingered on your skin.

“everything looks better on you, baby.” his new name for you.

you had never felt attention like this ever, and it was coming from him. the way he made time for you, the way he noticed every tiny detail, treating you like you were the most precious thing in his world.

as the weeks went on, you found yourself canceling plans with friends without hesitation. not because he ever asked you to, but because you wanted to. your mind was consumed by him. you began dressing with him in mind every morning. you started waking up earlier so you could make sure you looked perfect for him. always making sure to wear the gold necklace and earrings he’d given you, because you loved the way he noticed. he noticed every single time.

michael went out of his way to ask you for your opinions in the studio. constantly turning around in his chair to engage with you. he never made you feel small or less than. your dreams of producing and writing felt brighter than ever, but they were slowly becoming tangled with the dream of him.

he was pulling you deeper into his world, and you went willingly, heart racing, completely enchanted.

before you knew it, you were spending every minute of every day with him. mornings and evenings in the studio were dedicated to him: taking his notes with extra care, keeping his tea at the perfect temperature, dimming the lights the moment his eyes started to squint. nights were spent in his bed, filled to the brim with his cock while he kissed your face and whispered how perfect you were; his muse, his everything.

so when he told you he had to leave town for a few days for a charity event, your heart shattered. it wasn’t normal. you knew it wasn’t normal to be so entangled with someone that the idea of being apart for 48 hours felt impossible. you had begged him to stay, taking his packed bag from his hands and forcing him down onto his bed. straddling his lap firmly while you licked his neck, placing delicate kisses below his ear, whispering “stay.”

“i’m sorry, baby,” he practically moaned, placing his hands gently on your waist while you continued your assault on his neck. “i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

“how are you going to do that?” you whispered, sucking his earlobe into your mouth gently.

“you’ll just have to wait and see, baby,” michael replied, lifting you off his lap and placing you down onto the bed next to him. he stood slowly, like he was just as desperate to stay there and worship your needy body. “i’ll be back before you know it. help yourself to anything in the house; my card is on the table. you can use it for anything,” he said sincerely, as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “i love you so much,” was the last thing he said before he slipped out the door and out of your life for the next two days.”

────୨ৎ────

part III, the switch.

the night before michael was due back, you went home to your apartment for the first time in weeks. you hadn’t realized how long it had been until you noticed your answering machine flashing with dozens of missed calls from your friends and family. when was the last time you were with anyone other than michael?

sleeping in your own bed felt… wrong. it didn’t feel like your bed anymore. the whole apartment felt like it was something out of a past life. it all happened so fast that you didn’t even realize what was happening. you had become so consumed by him that you had a hard time figuring out where he ended and where you began.

the night was sleepless. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing him. it was like you couldn’t even breathe without him. he was the only thought on your mind, fully pushing out your earlier realizations that you didn’t even recognize your own life anymore.

the next morning, you took extra time getting ready, ensuring that you looked exactly how he liked. you even slipped on a shorter skirt than usual, one you typically save for after work hours, just to surprise him once he showed up to the studio.

everything was perfect. except for your piece of shit car that wouldn’t start no matter how many times you turned the key.

you groaned, flopping your forehead onto the steering wheel in frustration. as you were about to go back inside to grab the phone to call a cab, your neighbor, mr. harlan, called out.

“car trouble again?” he asked as he was standing in the doorway with a briefcase in his hands.

“as always!” you replied, still turning to go back inside.

“you going to work? i can drop you off”

mr. harlan had given you rides to work before, when you were just an intern, before you met michael. he was a nice man, one who never gave the creeps. he was about 45, with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. he reminded you of your father.

“i can call a cab; it’s okay.”

“i’m going right down the road from there, it’s no trouble, sweetheart.” you looked down at the watch michael had gotten for you, realizing that if you weren’t at the studio in thirty minutes, teddy would have your head on a stick.

“are you sure?” you asked politely. mr. harlan just motioned for you to get in the car, and you did.

the ride was short and pleasant, making small talk with mr. harlan as he asked you about your job, making a quick comment that “no one’s seen you around for a while.”

before you knew it, you were at work, with five minutes to spare. you turned to him with a genuine smile, “thank you so much mr. harlan, really.” you leaned over and gave him a quick appreciative hug. he patted your back gently. you smiled brightly as you pulled away, “you’re a lifesaver.”

after a quick touch-up in the bathroom, you made your way to the control room. wanting to make sure you set everything up perfectly for michael’s arrival later in the day. as you walked in, you felt your heart skip a beat. michael was already there, sitting at the mixing board with a notebook and pen in his hand.

“oh my god, you scared me!” you exclaimed, feeling your heart rate increase at the sight of him.

he didn’t turn around. he didn’t move a muscle.

you dropped your clipboard and bag on the couch as you made your way over to him. “what are you doing here?” you asked excitedly. “i thought you were getting in later?”

nothing.

your heart rate spiked again, not from excitement, but from rising dread. your stomach twisted with confusion.

“is everything okay?” you asked, grabbing his shoulder gently. he didn’t even look at you. just continued scribbling in his notepad like you didn’t exist.

you were interrupted by teddy, bruce and bill’s arrival to the room. which signaled it was time for you to be the junior assistant producer, not the concerned girlfriend.

your stomach twisted with nerves all day long. every thought was consumed by the terrifying possibility that the love he had poured into you so completely could be taken away in an instant.

his silence was tearing you apart. what happened? did something happen on his trip? did you do something?

you tried your best to carry on with your routine as normal, but this time he ignored every gesture. when you gave him more water, he didn’t even turn his head to look at you; he just continued his conversation with your boss. when you lowered the lights for him later in the session, he didn’t mouth ‘thank you’ to you like he normally did. he was stone cold. it was like you weren’t even there. it was driving you crazy.

it was eating you alive. every ignored glance, every silent dismissal, carved a deeper hole inside your chest.

the day dragged for what felt like an eternity, your chest aching with confusion, desperate to get anything out of michael. once the others stepped out for their smoke break, leaving you and michael alone, you approached him. your voice barely above a whisper.

“michael… what’s wrong? did something happen? you’re scaring me.”

he finally turned his head, eyes dark and cold. he had a look you had never seen on him before. it made your chest tighten.

“who was that?” he asked calmly, voice low and controlled. you looked at him with pure confusion.

“mr. harlan?” you asked, keeping your voice low in case anyone was lingering in the hallway. “he’s my neighbor. my car wouldn’t start this morning, so he gave me a ride… is that what this is about?”

michael searched your face for what had to be the thousandth time since he met you. only this time, he wasn’t studying your face to memorize it. he was hunting for a sign of dishonesty. “a ride,” he repeated, keeping his glare intense.

“yes, michael. a ride.”

“then tell him to give you one back home,” he stated coldly as he stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. he brushed past you without another word.

the next week was agonizing.

every day he came to the studio late, and every day he left early, without looking in your direction once. he wore his aviators the entire time, like he was deliberately blocking you from seeing his eyes.

you spent every day watching him ignore you at work, then spent every night calling his bedroom phone dozens of times, leaving messages of desperation that always went unanswered. each silent hour chipped away at your sanity. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. you felt like a shadow of yourself…. like you didn’t exist for yourself anymore. instead, you were an extension of him, and you couldn’t function without him.

you started to make mistakes at work. on thursday, day 4 of silence, you handed teddy a mislabeled tape. he scolded you right then and there, in front of your colleagues, and in front of michael. the old you would’ve been devastated to make such a stupid mistake at a job that meant the world to you… but the new you was only devastated that michael sat there, expressionless behind his aviators, watching you fight back tears at the embarrassment.

he offered you zero comfort as he left early again that day.

by friday, you were physically and mentally exhausted. you felt hollow. starved. like someone had reached inside your chest and ripped out the warmth he had so carefully filled you with. the same man who told you he loved you more than he’d ever loved anyone was now making you feel completely discarded. unimportant. unworthy. the contrast was physically painful. every small movement he made sent your heart lurching with desperate hope, only for it to crash violently when he looked straight through you.

the guilt was relentless. michael’s silence made it crystal clear: this was your fault. you had done this. the realization made you nauseous. all common sense vanished. you knew deep down you hadn’t done anything wrong, yet the guilt ate you alive.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you were unraveling at a terrifying rate.

teddy and the others had stepped out to grab dinner, and to your surprise michael stayed behind. leaving the two of you alone for the first time in days. the studio was silent except for the low hum of the equipment. michael stayed sat at the mixing board, staring at a track list. you stood at the back of the room for a long moment, heart hammering, before you finally spoke.

“michael…” your voice came out small and shaky. “please. i can’t stand this anymore.”

he didn’t turn around.

you moved closer until you were standing right beside him. tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “i’m so sorry. i never meant to hurt you. there’s no one else. only you. i’ll do anything to make this right. i love you.” you confessed through a shaky breath.

he removed his aviators slowly, setting them on the console with deliberate care, before finally turning to look at you. his eyes were dark, filled with jealousy and hurt. he stood from his chair, towering over you in the dim studio light.

you were shaking, guilt and desperation clawing at your throat. “tell me what to do,” you whispered brokenly. “i’ll do anything. please.”

michael stared at you for a long and heavy moment. jealousy and love twisted together in his expression. then he walked past you without a word. for one terrifying second, you thought he was going to leave. instead, he locked the studio door with a quiet click that echoed throughout the tension filled room.

“get on your knees,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

“what?” you choked out, baffled by his tone and words.

he stepped closer, pupils blown wide, the thick outline of his cock already straining against his jeans. he looked at you like he never had before… like he was starving and possessive.

“prove it to me,” he said, voice low and rough. “prove that you’re mine.”

in that moment, something shifted in him. the power he had over you was intoxicating, and he knew it.

your legs gave out before your mind could catch up. you dropped in front of him, knees hitting the carpet, heart hammering so hard you felt dizzy. you looked up at him as he unzipped his jeans, pulled out his thick, heavy cock, and fisted it slowly right in front of your face.

“open,” he ordered.

you obeyed instantly, lips parting. he grabbed the back of your head and pushed forward, sliding his cock into your mouth in one quick thrust.

“fuck… that’s it,” he groaned, voice dripping with lust. “take it like a good girl.”

he fucked your mouth with deep strokes, holding your head in place while you drooled and gagged around him.

“look at me,” he growled, fingers tightening in your hair. “look at me while i own this pretty mouth.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes lightly lined with tears as you took him as deep as you could. you felt your panties pool with your arousal at his words. you felt completely dominated by him… and you seemed to love it by the way you were throbbing underneath your skirt.

his thrusts were relentless, caring only about his pleasure for the first time. your throat tightened around his length as you struggled to breathe through your nose. you were too desperate for him to want you again to even consider tapping out.

sensing you needed a break, he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping for air as he stood above you. his cock was glistening with your spit as he stroked himself roughly, staring down at you with dark, possessive eyes.

“you okay?” he practically moaned out; the sight was fucking obscene. the way he towered above you, tugging at his length. he looked so powerful. he had complete control over you, and he knew it.

you were breathing hard, chest rapidly falling up and down, your heart going a million miles a minute. you couldn’t help but smile as you nodded at him, he’s still making sure i’m okay. that was the loudest thought in your head.

he shook his head slightly, acknowledging your consent, then slapped his cock repeatedly against your lips. “beg for it,” he demanded, “beg me to fuck your throat some more.”

“please, michael… please use me. i’ll be a good girl i promise.”

a dark, satisfied sound left his throat as he slid his cock back into your mouth, fucking it harder.

“good girl,” he rasped. “look so pretty gagging on my cock, baby.” he moaned his pet name for you so easily that it made your stomach twist in desire. his praise was the most important thing in the world to you. hearing him call you good, pretty, baby being enough to get you clenching around nothing as he used you.

“i’m gonna come down your throat,” he growled, staring down at you with possessive eyes. “and you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl. do you understand?”

you whimpered around his cock, nodding desperately as best you could. with a low, guttural groan, michael buried himself deep and came hard. thick, hot spurts of his release flooded your mouth and slid down your throat as he held your head in place.

“swallow it all. that’s it… good fucking girl,” he moaned.

you obeyed, throat working around him as you swallowed every drop. the act felt degrading and intimate all at once. something he had never made you do before.

when he finally pulled out, you were gasping, coughing… and so wet. your lips were swollen and slick with a mixture of your spit and bits of his cum. you felt owned and wanted all at once.

michael dropped to his knees in front of you almost immediately. his hands were gentle as they cupped your face, his eyes softening.

“come here, baby,” he whispered before pulling you in for a deep, claiming kiss. his tongue brushed against yours, tasting what he had done to you. he eventually pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, looking up at him with tear-stained and desperate eyes.

“i know,” he responded, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “i’m terrified of losing you,” he confessed softly, sincerity laced in his words. “i love you so much.”

you felt all of your anxiety wash away in that exact moment. you hadn’t even noticed how he didn’t apologize for ignoring you all week long… all you felt was pure relief. like you were an addict finally getting a fix.

“i love you so much, michael.” you replied, grabbing his face as his forehead remained against yours. “you’ll never lose me.”

for the first time, his love felt conditional… and you had just proven you would do anything to keep it.

────୨ৎ────

part IV, the descent.

the days after that night in that studio were so euphoric. you were on a complete high, reeling from the way he degraded you in such a loving way. beyond relieved that he had finally put you out of the misery of missing him. things felt so good again.

he returned to his loving and attentive ways immediately, reminding you exactly why you had fallen in love with him. he thanked you for every small thing you did for him in the studio, and resumed asking you for your opinion on tracks. once he even pulled you into his lap when people left the room, whispering how proud he was of you. repeatedly saying, “no one understands me like you do.”

the sex returned instantly too, but now it carried a new edge. he was still tender for the most part, taking his time worshipping you and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck like he wanted to taste your heartbeat. but occasionally he would hold your throat while he stretched you wide with his cock as deep as he could go, admiring the way he could see the outline of himself in your stomach. sometimes making you repeat “i’m only yours” like a prayer before he lets you finish.

you learned very quickly that if you ever upset him, he would simply draw back. sometimes slowly… sometimes all at once. and you couldn’t stand the thought of losing his warmth. losing his love.

the more love he gave you, the more intoxicated you became. you strived to be perfect for him; wearing his favorite outfits, the lipstick he complimented most. it felt right. it felt natural to cater to him. you loved how it made you feel when he was pleased with you. you would go to the ends of the earth to keep him smiling at you.

the gifts kept coming: new louboutins, surprise weekend getaways, beautiful lingerie…  one evening, tangled together in bed, hot and sweaty after your respective orgasms, he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a leather journal.

“i’ve been wanting to give you this,” he whispered, handing you the small notebook. “you’re the only person i’ve ever given everything to,” he said. moving his hands to brush your hair behind your ear so he could watch your face as you opened it.

inside, michael had written several pages of his own thoughts, lyrics, and little love notes with silly drawings scribbled next to them.

you looked up at him with loving eyes. he looked so handsome. the warm firelight danced across his face so delicately. his curls, sweaty and loose, fell into his face as he looked back at you.

“flip to the end, baby.”

you flipped through the blank pages of the journal to find a note at the end: “because your mind is as beautiful as you are. write everything here. i want to know every part of you. love, michael.”

“i don’t know how i ever worked before i met you,” he said, voice genuine. “you’re my muse. maybe i can be yours… write all of your ideas here. for songs, for your future, i’ll help you get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

your mind was dizzy with love. you had never imagined love could feel this strong, this consuming, this holy.

you rode him like you were trying to climb inside his soul. you pushed him down onto the bed and straddled his hips, sinking onto his thick cock in one slow, greedy motion. a broken moan left your lips as he stretched you open. michael’s hands gripped your waist tightly, but he let you set the pace, watching your face twist in pleasure as you adjusted to his size.

you rolled your hips desperately, taking him deeper with every movement. the wet sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, along with your soft, needy whimpers for him.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, eyes dark as you began to bounce on his cock. “look at you. so fucking obsessed with me.”

you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest, riding him harder. “i love you,” you gasped. “i love you so much.”

his grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you deeper. “then show me,” he rasped. “show me who this pussy belongs to.”

his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. you rode him faster, grinding down on him with every stroke, chasing the feeling only he could give you.

“god, you feel so good,” he moaned, eyes dark as he thrusted up to meet your rhythm. “this pussy was made to be fucked by me. made to be filled by me.”

you came hard around his cock, the feeling of him pulling you deeper combined with the quiet shame of being so openly objectified sending you over the edge. as you cried out his name, clenching around him, he flipped you over without warning.

he pinned your wrists above your head and fucked you through your orgasm with deep, punishing thrusts.

“you’re mine,” he growled, voice low and possessive. “no one else gets you. no one else gets to touch you. no one else gets this.” he slammed into you harder. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your cheeks. your overstimulated pussy being fucked mercilessly by him, “only yours, michael.”

“you belong to me,” he moaned as he came inside of you for the first time. “take it. take all of me.” he buried himself to the hilt, pushing himself up against the deepest part of you. you felt his cum flood deep into you as he throbbed inside of your clenching hole. he stayed pressed up against you for what felt like forever, breathing hard against your neck while he slowly and gently fucked his hot seed deeper inside of you.

you had never been finished in before. the feeling was overwhelming. physically and emotionally. you could feel each strong spurt marking you from the inside. filling you so completely that the excess started to leak out around where you were stretched tight around him.

emotionally, you felt claimed. and it terrified you how much you wanted it. how badly you needed to be his.

tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, trembling. he lifted his head from your neck and kissed them away as he softened inside of you, murmuring how much he adored you. he pulled out gently and gathered you into his arms, holding you impossibly tight. “my perfect girl,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

from that point on, he stopped pulling out and always finished inside of you.

the months following blurred into something you no longer recognized as your own life. michael had meticulously wrapped himself into the very fabric of your being. he was at the forefront of everything.

you stopped having car issues because michael bought you your dream car, and then gently suggested you just use one of his drivers instead. “it’s safer,” he said one night while kissing along your collarbone, “i can’t focus if i’m worried about you, baby. let me take care of you the way you take care of me.”

he started paying your rent without asking, then soothed your hesitation with soft kisses and quiet logic. “i feel guilty that you’re paying for a place you’re barely at anymore. you’ll always have a home with me.”

every time your family or friends called, he was right there. rubbing your back gently as you spoke, whispering sweet nothings in your other ear.

his anger was never loud. he never raised his voice at you. he was never violent. he didn’t need to be.

he had trained you well.

teddy had a guest in the studio one night, a member of the new band blackstreet, who teddy swore was going to be the next big thing. you must’ve spoken to the man for too long, or smiled at him too warmly, because you felt michael’s eyes burn into you immediately.

you felt guilt twisting in your stomach immediately… you knew that look. you had learned to read every subtle shift in his mood like your life depended on it. and right now, it felt like it did.

michael didn’t give you the silent treatment like before; this time he simply removed the warmth. he stopped calling you “baby” or “sweet girl”, and when you reached for his hand in the car, he let you hold it but offered no squeeze in return. at night, he still held you close, his body a solid presence against yours, but the tender kisses behind your ear and along your arms were gone. the absence of those small affections carved deeper into you than any argument ever could.

you tried desperately to bridge the gap. one evening, curled against his chest in bed, you whispered, “i love you.” he responded with the same words, voice soft, but he didn’t look at you. his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, and the conditional nature of his love had never felt more real, or more terrifying.

the fear that he might slip away completely ate away at you. you couldn’t bear another day of his emotional distance. so that night, after he left for a late meeting, you slipped into his favorite lingerie… a delicate black lace set he had once said made you look like his own personal angel.

your hands trembled as you fastened the garters. you had bought a shiny pair of metal cuffs earlier that day… cuffs you hoped would prove how far you were willing to go. when you heard the front door open, your heart slammed against your chest. you stood in the middle of the bedroom, the cuffs dangling from your fingers, the dim lamplight casting soft shadows across your barely-covered body.

michael stepped into the room and stopped short, eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, voice low, a mix of surprise and something darker flickering across his face.

you stepped closer, holding the handcuffs out to him like an offering. your voice came out breathy, laced with desperation and a dangerous kind of devotion.

“i’m offering you everything,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “all of me. i’m yours to use however you want.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, the air between you thick with tension. then something in his expression shifted; hunger overtaking the lingering coldness. he grabbed the handcuffs from your hand, the metal clicking softly as he circled behind you. he pulled your arms back firmly and locked the cuffs around your wrists, the cool bite of the metal sending shivers down your spine, before pulling you back into him. you could feel how hard he was already… your desperation making all the blood rush to his cock.

his hand slid down your body possessively, reaching between your legs. his fingers brushed over your soaked lace panties, pressing against your aching pussy.

“look at how wet you get when you submit to me,” he murmured, voice rough and low against your ear. he pushed the lace aside and sank two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. you gasped, knees nearly buckling at the sudden fullness.

“so fucking eager,” he continued, pumping his fingers slowly, deliberately. “so pathetic and perfect for me.”

he withdrew his fingers quickly, leaving you throbbing and empty, and guided you toward the large mirror. he bent you over the edge of the bed, your cuffed hands resting against your lower back. you watched in the reflection as he freed his thick cock, stroking it only once before lining himself up.

“eyes on the mirror,” he ordered, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “i want you to watch exactly what i do to you… and what you let me do.”

he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, the sudden stretch intense and consuming. his pace was instantly rough, giving you no time to adjust as he yanked back on the cuffs restraining your arms behind your back, forcing your body to arch for him.

“that’s it,” he groaned, voice low and filthy. “look at how this pussy swallows my cock. so desperate to be fucked by me.”

the combination of the restraints, his degrading words, and the relentless pleasure left you trembling. tears of overwhelming sensation slipping down your cheeks as you stared at your reflection; flushed, bound, completely at his mercy. the fucked-up thing was how much wetter it made you. he could feel it, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down your thighs.

“you love this, don’t you?” he growled, slamming into you harder, using the cuffs to pull you back onto him with every thrust. “you love it when i use you, love knowing i own every inch of you.”

“yes- yes, i love it,” you sobbed, voice breaking.

“good girl,” he praised, “who do you belong to, baby?” he asked as he started rolling his hips, swirling the tip of his cock impossibly deep inside of you. “tell me.”

the filth spewing from his lips mixed with the overwhelming pleasure sent you spiraling. you screamed out “you, you, you” as your orgasm crashed over you violently. your pussy clenching around him as you cried out for him, tears flowing freely now.

michael didn’t slow down. he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. he followed right behind with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go before shooting his load inside of you.

he reached down between your thighs, where the two of you were still connected, and carefully scooped up the cum that was dripping out of you and down his cock on his fingers before grabbing your hair with his other hand to force you to look back into the mirror.

he moved his cum soaked fingers in front of your face, and without him needing to say a word, you opened your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers, hallowing your cheeks to suck him clean.

he moaned deeply at the sight of your reflection in the mirror in front of him, pushing his fingers deeper in your mouth as you also watched yourself taste him.

he gently pulled out, unlocked the handcuffs, then turned you around and pulled you into his arms. the sudden gentleness after the roughness made you latch onto him harder. he pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, your swollen lips.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice hoarse but warm again. “i needed that. you always know what i need.”

after that night, you consciously stopped making eye contact with other men, especially when michael was around. you had noticed how much more he praised you when your attention belonged only to him.

he would always be subtle, pulling you in for a hug from behind and whispering, “you’ve been so good to me lately.” before showering the back of your neck in kisses.

the two of you spent countless sleepless nights together curled up on the couch flipping through the journal he gave you. he would pull you into his lap, gently rubbing your back as he flipped through your scribbles of lyrics and arrangement ideas.

subconsciously, you were writing what you thought he would like. you memorized the way he worked in the studio. you convinced yourself it was still passion for the work. but he had become your work. your mentor. your provider. and you were so thankful he was all of those things wrapped into one.

“these are beautiful,” he would whisper, pointing to different lyrics throughout the journal. “i love the way you think, baby,” he’d say, kissing your temple. and all you could think about was him.

the long days in the studio dwindled as the album neared completion. the energy was bittersweet. a mix of pride and quiet melancholy as everyone sensed the end of a chapter approaching.

one afternoon, teddy pulled you aside near the back of the control room while michael was momentarily out of earshot.

“you’ve been incredible, kid. michael’s been singing your praises nonstop. to me, to the label, everyone. he really believes in you. i’ve got some more hands-on work coming up with blackstreet after this wraps. real producing credits. you earned this. you should thank him; he’s the reason doors are opening for you like this.”

you smiled, a small flicker of genuine professional excitement warming your chest for the first time in months. “teddy, wow, i… thank you. that means everything.”

that night, curled up against his chest on the couch, you told him what teddy had said. your voice was gentle, full of gratitude.

“he said i earned it… and that i should thank you. that you’ve really been looking out for me.”

michael pulled you closer, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. his voice was low, warm, and laced with that familiar need.

“he’s right, baby, you did earn it… and you should thank me,” he said softly, placing a quick kiss to your skin as he lifted his head from your neck. he looked at you with those big brown eyes, soft and vulnerable but laced with quiet desperation. “thank me by working with me.”

you furrowed your brows, completely confused. “work with you?” you repeated, searching his face.

“i can’t imagine doing another album without you. you always know what i’m thinking before i even say it.” his thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes soft but intense. “i’ve given you everything… haven’t i? i kept my word,” he paused, his fingers gently tracing your jaw, “please give this to me.”

you felt that familiar pull; the intoxicating mix of love and the deep fear of disappointing him. but this time there was no internal fight. you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips with complete devotion.

he really had given you everything. a life of luxury, of love. he had taken a chance on you when no one else would. and now he was offering you a future by his side.

“i’ll resign after the album is finished,” you reassured him, sweeping the curls from his face as his eyes grew larger with each word that fell from your lips. “i don’t want to do any of it without you either.”

from when you both arrived at the award show, he spent his time mingling with others, and completely forgetting that you were on his arm.

he didn’t even kiss you once tonight. didn’t even curl his hand around your waist like he normally does, he just made you look pathetic, holding on to his arm while he drags you around like some sort of accessory.

he says your name, running his tongue over his bottom lip. you can tell he’s getting frustrated by you ignoring him.

ha, now he understands how you felt for the past three hours.

you hear the sound of his footsteps against the carpeted floor as you rub the soles of you feet, feeling the ache from walking around all night in heels.

michael squats in front of you, placing his hand on your thigh, exactly where the slit of your dress is, leaving that side of your thigh bare. “what’s your problem? you’ve had an attitude all night.”

“tch.” you stand up, pushing his hand off of you, and making your way into the bathroom.

before you can even take two steps, michael grabs you by the arm, turning you around so you’re chest to chest. “michael leave me alone. i just want to shower and go to bed.” you snap, avoiding his eyes.

“no.” michael says, using his free hand to grip your chin so you’re forced to look at him. “tell me what your issue is.”

you let out a frustrated sigh. “you. you’re my issue. you were the one that wanted me to be in new york with you for this award thing and then you just decide to ignore me the whole night.”

you see him raise a single eyebrow at your words. “i never ignored you.”

“yes the fuck you did.” you snap back.

“don’t swear at me, i’m trying to understand what your issue is and you’re here acting like a brat.”

you scoff at his words, shrugging his hands off of you.

“you’re so insufferable.” you mutter under your breath, going into the bathroom and shutting the door.

“michael!” you exclaim, when the bathroom door opens and he steps inside.

“michael i’m done speaking to you tonight.” you state, when he keeps on walking towards you until your whole body is pressed against the sink.

“michael.” he ignores you yet again, his hands sliding up your waist, and pulling you towards him.

you are now squished between him and the sink, and you can’t even move even if you wanted to.

he drops his head, his lips so close to yours that you can smell the minty gum that he was previously chewing.

“mikey.” you whisper against his lips, putting your hands against his chest to try and get some distance.

he knows exactly what he’s doing. and unfortunately it’s working.

“i never ignored you.” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. “you were by my side the whole night.” he continues peppering kisses along your jaw. dropping to your neck, gently biting it.

“micha— baby.” you gasp at the feeling, your hand going to the back of his neck.

“i never let you out of my sight. but because my girl is so clingy, she hates it when i talk to other people.”

“m’ not clingy.” you whine.

“mhmm.” michael hums, raising his head and seeing how lust crazed your eyes are.

he smirks, knowing that he has you exactly where he wants you.

"please." you beg, trying to run away from michael's mouth.

you hear him hum, the vibration against your clit making you jerk.

he's just pulled three orgasms out of you and with the way he's still going, it's like he's trying to make you pass out.

"stay." he growls, spreading your quivering thighs wider. he drops his mouth back onto your pussy, causing your head to drop back in pleasure.

“fuckkk… i can’t—” you whine, when you feel his tongue circling your clit, before he sucks it into his mouth with a wet pop. “oh godddd!” you gasp, your legs starting to twitch in his hands.

“this is what you wanted right? you wanted daddy’s attention?”

“ahhh— ngh” you babble, not able to get out your words properly. you clutch the headboard above you, trying to pull yourself up from his lethal tongue.

“fuckin’ stay put.” michael drags you back down to his mouth, his tongue working you harder, sucking up all of your slickness.

you cry out, your voice raw and broken from all the orgasms michael has drawn out of you.

your breathes are shaky when you feel the familiar, heat and pressure building up in your stomach. your toes curl, and you throw your head back, clutching the dark tresses of michael’s hair.

“i’m… i’m…” you hiccup, “fuckkk… i’m gonna—” your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling a warm liquid gush out of you. your legs shake uncontrollably in michael’s strong grip, but he just keeps going, slurping every last bit of your juices, not caring about the mess you’ve made.

once you’ve calmed down from your fourth orgasm, michael raises his head, his face soaked with your liquids, his lips swollen and glossy, his hair a tangled mess, but what stands out the most is the smirk on his face.

“i hate you.” you pant, dropping your head back onto the mattress.

michael laughs, crawling up your body and crashing his lips against yours. you groan, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“you made a mess.” michael pants, after he pulls away from your mouth.

“oh shut up.” you laugh, hitting him in his chest. “you’re so annoying, i was trying to be mad at you.” you pout.

“and are you still mad now, or do i need to tie you up with my belt this time?” you bite your lip at his words, knowing that he actually will tie you up, especially with the way you kept running from him.

you look down between your bodies, at your swollen cunt, and decide against it.

your pussy needs a break.

you cup his cheek, running your finger across his bottom lip. “how about you pay more attention to me next time and then ill forgive you just this once.” you giggle.

“you just want me all to yourself huh.” michael grins.

“exactly.” you laugh, kissing him and pulling him on top of you.

The smell of vanilla and incense welcomes you as you walk into your apartment. Your cat rubs against your feet, eager to finally get something to eat after hours of you spending the day with Michael.

And by spending the day, I mean tagging along in interviews, a shit ton of walking, tireless questions toward you, Michael, your music, his music.

It was all too much, and you were both exhausted.

Michael follows shortly behind you, not having it in him to head over to his own estate. Your apartment was a shorter route, and he felt more comfortable in your space.

You finally get the cat fed, the soft purring a small comfort against your bone-deep tiredness. Michael is quiet, leaning against your kitchen counter, just watching you move around your own space.

"I'm gonna go shower, baby. I won't be long, so you can take yours too."

He nods slowly as you head to the bathroom, leaving him to the quiet hum of your cozy apartment.

The warm water was practically a blessing, sluicing away the sweat and the strain of a hundred camera flashes. You stood under the spray longer than necessary, just to let your mind go blank from the physical — no — the full-soul exhaustion of performing normality for the past few months.

Finally turning off the water, you wrapped yourself in a soft towel, the fabric a small comfort against your soft skin. The steam clung to the air, and for a moment, you just stared at your foggy reflection. Your now bare face looking back at you with a tired frown.

God, you looked wrecked.

Paddling back into your bedroom, the plush rug near your queen-sized bed felt good under your aching feet. The room was dark, lit only by the warm lamp on your nightstand.

You could hear the faint clink of glass from the kitchen, Michael moving around with a familiarity that came from years of domestic romance. The cat was now curled in a tight ball on the armchair in your bedroom, completely oblivious to the long day. And a pang of envy hit you.

What you would give to be a cat. No interviews. No pressure or expectations. Just eat, shit, and sleep.

Michael rolls in with a glass of cold orange juice in his palm, walking to the other side. He moved with quiet ease that never ceased to surprise you, how someone so electrifying on stage could be so soft and domestic in private.

He claimed his side of the bed years ago, without ever really discussing it, and it became a usual routine whenever he came by. You'd stock up on orange juice, just in case, he'd come over, pour himself a glass before bed, then set it on his nightstand.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, the strings creaking softly under his weight. "You good?"

You nodded, pulling the towel tighter around you. "Yeah," you huff a small laugh. "You okay?"

He kicked off his loafers, letting them thud softly onto the floor. "Yeah..." He gave you a small, tired smile before pushing himself up and heading for the bathroom. The sound of the shower starting up a moment later was a familiar white noise.

You finally dropped the towel and pulled on one of his old, soft t-shirts to sleep in, the fabric smelling faintly of laundry detergent and his cologne.

Sliding into bed, you let out a long sigh, sinking into the clean, cool sheets. The day replayed in flashes behind your eyelids, and somewhere along the way you must've dozed off, because the next thing you knew, the bathroom door was opening, steam pouring out into the hallway. Michael padded into the room, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants he left in your closet for moments like these.

He moved around to his side of the bed, his movements slow with fatigue. "You sleeping?"

You mumbled something incoherent, shifting to make room for him. He lifted the covers and slid in beside you, and let out a contented sigh, settling onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow.

A moment of comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the sound of your shared breathing. Then you felt his body go still. A tense-still.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, turning his head to look at you in the dim light. His expression was a perfect mix of confusion and fatigue.

He shifted again, a small, uncomfortable wiggle. Then his hand slides under the pillow, his fingers probing for the source of the lump under his pillow.

His eyes furrowed as his hand closed around something.

Something cynical and smooth.

"What in the world..."

He pulled the object out from under the pillow, holding it up in the sliver of light from the lamp.

It was your vibrator.

The simple, discreet one you'd tucked away for a lazy night.

He stared at it, his brain clearly trying to catch up. His eyes widened just a bit. "Oh shit."

And you?

You were drifting back to sleep, facing away from him. Completely oblivous from the discovery happening just inches away from you.

He holds the vibrator like it was some foreign artifact, his gaze flicking from it to your back. "Uh... sweetheart?" His voice is quiet, a little strained. You just mumble, curling deeper into the sheets. He clears his throat softly, gently tapping your shoulder with his free hand, the other still holding the vibrator awkwardly aloft. "Hey. Wake up for a sec." He huffs out a laugh in disbelief and a hint of amusement.

"I think... I think you forgot something under my pillow."

The words "under my pillow" cut through your sleep haze like a splash of cold water. Your eyes snapped open, your body going rigid. No fucking way.

You rolled over slowly, the movement feeling heavy and deliberate. The dim light from the lamp illuminated his face.

And the object in his hand confirmed your worst, most embarrassing fear.

He held it a little higher, his expression unreadable. "This yours?"

Your brain short-circuited, and all you could do was stare, praying that this was a dream. He watches your face, the stunned silence stretching for a beat too long. A slow, wicked grin starts to spread across his lips. "Hello?"

He pulls the vibrator back just as you start to reach for it. Holding it just out of your grasp, his gaze drops from your horrified face to the object in his hand, then back to you. God, this shit was hilarious to him.

His voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. "You been holdin' out on me?"

"I— I just—" Heat rushed to your cheeks, a burning flush that felt like it could power electricity. Your mind was a frantic, blank panic still covered with a peaceful sleep you were hoping you wouldn't wake up from.

He let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound intimate in the quiet room. He propped his head with his hand, the vibrator still held loosely in the other. He was enjoying this. The exhaustion from earlier seemed to have vanished from his expression, replaced by pure, adulterated amusement, and his grin softened into something more curious.

He shifts closer, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Y'know.. I'm feelin' a second wind all of a sudden."

"S-Second wind?"

"Mhm."

His free hand finds your hip under the covers, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He holds the vibrator up between you, his eyes locked on yours. "You not too tired to show me how you use this?"

Your heart was hammering against your ribs, a frantic beat of pure mortification and a sudden, sharp thrill. And the comfortable fatigue in the air was gone, replaced by a buzzing, awake energy that seemed to radiate from him.

I could only nod, my throat too tight to function, and he shifts, turning the vibrator over in his hand with a newfound focus. "Good." His voice is low, a little rough. "Now, where's the button on this damn thing?"

He finds the small switch with his thumb, his movements deliberate. A soft, low buzz suddenly fills the quiet room, alongside your now unsteady breathing.

He lets out a low hum of approval, his gaze dropping to where the covers tent over your legs. Only then did he think it'd be a good idea to sit up and yank them off of you. The cold air made you shudder against him as he pushed your legs open, shushing you softly as he settled between your thighs.

He runs the humming tip of the vibrator slowly up against your thigh, his eyes watching your every reaction. "Cold?"

You nod. "A little.."

"Aw," he tsks. "'s okay. I'll warm you up good, okay?"

The contrast of the cool silicone and his warm body was practically dizzying. Your mind was still catching up, stuck between embarrassment and a rising, undeniable heat.

He presses the vibrator against your clothed pussy, right over the fabric of the oversized t-shirt and panties, letting the buzz resonate with you. "There we go... feels good?"

A soft involuntary moan escaped your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second, the sensation so much more intense than when you're doing it alone. "Y-yes... f-feels good..."

He applies a bit more pressure, now moving upward to your puffy clit. He starts to see your sweet arousal leak through your panties, and he can't help but move his free hand down, move the fabric to the side, and collect the essence on his fingers.

I mean, is he really your boyfriend if he didn't have a little taste?

Your fingers clench in the sheets, gasping at the sight. He then brought the digits to his mouth, groaning softly at your sweetness. His eyes flickered shut as the sole taste of you made him so. achingly. hard.

He opens his eyes, dark and hungry, and brings the vibrator back to your now-exposed clit, and fuck, the direct contact was something else. The vibrations a sharp, perfect counterpoint to the slow, wet circles his tongue had just made on his fingers.

He watches your face intently, and your chest heaves as you feel the pleasure pool and build in your lower stomach. "Fuckfuckfuck— t-too much, Mikey please—"

He doesn't ease off the pressure; instead, you hear him press the soft button to increase the speed. "Shhh, relax, girl, just a lil more. I wanna see you cum on this thing. This is what you usually do instead of just calling me, right?"

The vibration becomes a constant, insistent hum, a relentless rhythm that pushes you oh, so, undeniably closer to your orgasm. Your thighs tremble against his sides as you shake your head.

"No? You sure?"

"YesyesyesI'msure— fuckI'msoclose! G-gonna—" You start to babble as the coil of pleasure in your stomach tightens unbearably, your back arching off the bed as the sensation becomes overwhelming.

His voice was thick with desire, watching you as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shaking and breathless in the aftermath.

But... the vibration doesn't stop.

It continues its relentless, loud hum against your oversensitive flesh, the sensation shifting from pleasure to a sharp, almost painful intensity. A whimper escapes you, your body trying to twist away from the overwhelming sensation. He holds you firmly in place, his grip gentle but unyielding.

He watches the way you flinch, your back arching desperately at the sensitivity. High-pitched whimpers and moans fall from your lips. "Michael— 's t-too much!"

"I know, baby. I know it's a lot," he still doesn't move, letting the smooth vibrator continue to buzz against your throbbing clit. "But I wanna prove to you that only I can make you feel this good. This thing can't satisfy you the way I can. You understand that, right?"

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod; you don't even know what you're saying yes to, a mixture of overwhelming pleasure and sheer overstimulation. Your hips buck involuntarily, a futile attempt to escape the relentless sensation.

Your whines and sobs echo throughout the apartment, and no doubt through the walls. You could feel the heat building up again, more intense than the last. It almost frightened you.

Your nerves felt like they were on fire, every pulse sending a jolt through your spent and exhausted body, completely at his mercy. And all he did was watch.

He shushed you softly, his voice low and hypnotic as his free hand dipped down to the entrance of your pussy, now fingering you with precision.

You asked for your mind to go blank, and now you have it.

You cry out at the full feeling of his fingers, feeling your orgasm creep in closer than before. "You're takin' it so good. My sweet girl. Wan' you to cum for me again, okay?"

The words are a direct command, his voice laced with a possessive tenderness that makes your head spin. He curls his fingers inside, finding that spot that makes you feel just right, and your body convulses around his fingers, a second, shattering orgasm that has you making a mess all over the sheets. Spurts of your orgasm coat his palm as he continues to pump in and out of you.

You felt like you could break in half, and all he did was give you his fingers and a vibrator you've used dozens of times before.

He finally pulls the vibrator away, clicking it off before licking it clean, along with his fingers.

As much as he was a gentleman. He was also real fucking nasty.

His touch is gentle as he soothes your trembling thighs, kissing away your tears as you're utterly spent beneath him. He sets the vibrator down on the nightstand, then pulls you flush against his chest.

He moves the hair from your face, his arms tightening around you. "You okay?"

You could only manage a weak nod, your body feeling like liquid. Every nerve still sang against your skin.