jaafar jackson’s muse

the air was hot and sticky in studio 54. it never seemed to phase anyone to stop grooving to the popular hits of ‘79. michael was sat in the corner, “people watching,” as he called it.

he enjoyed taking in everyone’s presence underneath the brightly flashing disco light. michael scans the room, eyes trailing over bell bottoms, sequenced tops and diamond-like go-go boots.

he does a double take when his brain processes what he just witnessed. his eye quickly adjusted to the bright boots. he cocks his head to the side, amazed with this sight.

he has never seen anything quite like it. sure, he has seen go-go boots. come on, who hasn’t? these boots were covered in thousands of little gems. with all the lights flashing, it was catching the gems perfectly. creating an aura of rainbow strikes around the boots.

michael peels his eyes off the enchanting colors and follows the long legs attached to the boots. he was eager to see who owned such a pair of shoes. when his eyes finally landed on the girl wearing the go-go boots, his cheeks begin to flush red. he had never seen someone so beautiful before.

he snorted as the thought came into his mind. he sounds like his brothers. he had always heard them use that line to pick up women. however, as he watched you move with the rhythm of the song playing, he knew it wasn’t just a line to use to flirt with you. he genuinely believed it. you were the most ethereal women he had ever laid eyes on.

as the night went on, the more michael become infatuated with you. his brothers eventually started to notice their little brother’s attention was divided. jackie, marlon, tito, and jermaine walk up to the table michael was sitting at.

michael was so into watching the way your hips move side to side, he didn’t even notice his brothers hovering over him. the four brothers gave each other puzzled looks before marlon snapped his fingers. in hopes, this would wake up michael from his trance.

“huh?” michael uttered, confused when his brothers arrived in his presence. marlon chuckled, “hello, welcome back. what has you so distracted?” marlon turns around, looking for what made michael’s brain turn to mush. michael brushed off marlon, “nothin’ nothin’.” michael mutters under his breath. jackie squints his eyes at michael.

“oh no, no, no.” jackie sits besides michael and reaches for his shoulder. jermaine follows in suit after jackie. “what has gotten you all distracted, brother?” jackie’s face turns into a wide smirk. michael flashes his eyes back and forth between jackie and jermaine. eventually looking at tito and marlon standing in front of him. they all have the same expression on their face.

michael groans at his brother’s expressions. michael sighs in defeat, knowing his brothers will keep pushing the subject unless he speaks up. michael nods his head to you. all four brothers whip their heads to find you dancing your heart away to “ladies’ night” by kool & the gang.

the brother’s eyes follow down your delicious body to your go-go boots. marlon puts his hand up and turns away with his eyes closed, wincing at the brightly lit boots. “she is like a human light bulb, my gosh.” all the brothers laughed at marlon’s joke, even michael. michael brought his head up to look at you once more, studying how your hair bounced with every sudden move you made. “you should talk to her before the night is over.” jermaine said shaking michael’s shoulders.

michael blew air out his mouth at his comment. “i’m too shy to say anything to her.” michael said to his brothers, reaching his hand to rub the back of his burning neck. tito scuffed at his brother’s nervousness.

“let me get this straight.” tito brings his hand to his mouth, rubbing the corners of his lips. “you can release a solo album all by yourself, get interviewed by strangers, and have hundreds of fans screaming your name-“ marlon begins to whisper scream michael’s name before tito can finish his point. “MICHAEL, MICHAEL.” tito smacks marlon across the arm, continuing his thought. “but you are telling me that you can’t talk to a pretty girl?”

three of the brothers hum in unison and point at tito, signaling they agree with him. michael seemed to be forgetting who he was. he was michael jackson, for goodness sake. michael shook his head at his brothers. they always knew how to talk michael up. they were all so proud of their little brother, including jermaine. it was the least they could do for him.

“will you just go over there and talk to her before i do for you?” marlon said, inching his way over to you. “fine, okay fine. i’ll go over there.” michael put his hands up in defeat, quickly getting up from his chair.

two hours earlier, you walked into studio 54 with one mission for the night. to dance your heart away in your new flashy go-go boots.

you bought the boots a couple months ago at the salvation army. they were original go-go boots from beth’s bootery. you were amazed with the condition of them, flipping the inside to check the size.

you gasped at learning they were exactly your size. squealing in excitement, earning some looks from fellow customers, you sit down to try to them on. as the boots glide over your calf like butter, you look at them in the nearby mirror. you immediately had the thought to bling them out. you nod your head, satisfied with your inner thought.

you take the boots off and quickly race to the checkout counter, eager to start bedazzling them. now here you are, at the popular nightclub, showing your blinged-out go-go boots. earning adoring compliments and concerned looks from other club-goers, you walk to the dance floor with a newfound confidence. you never thought a pair of go-go boots would fuel your ego to feel good.

these boots were magic. as the neon lights hit the gems on the boots, your eyes began to sparkle with them. you were truly in love with these shoes; you didn’t know if anything could make you love them more.

that thought began to change as your eyes lifted from your gorgeous boots to an equally (if not, more) gorgeous boy. your eyes adjusted to the rapid changing lights as you recognized the boy coming your way, michael jackson.

you blinked again. maybe you were going crazy from staring at your boots too long. there is no way michael jackson was heading your way. as you blinked for the fourth time, you slightly jolted at the fact that it was indeed michael jackson. michael smiled softly at you, his eyes trailing down to your dazzling boots. he cocked his head to the side, amazed at how shiny the boots were up close.

michael pointed towards your shoes, lifting his head to meet your star-struck eyes. “i like your boots. they are…” michael paused, searching for a correct adjective for the boots in front of him. you smiled his brain racking through possible answers he can say. “amazing, show-stopping, the most perfect go-go boot ever to exist?” you chuckled at your attempt to finish his sentence. “i was gonna say bright, but that works too.” michael softly giggled at your response.

“the boots are just as beautiful as the girl wearing them.” his cheeks began to flush a dark pink as he said his line out loud. hearing micheal’s compliment, your cheeks become a similar shade to michael’s. after that, you and michael began talking the rest of the night.

resulting in you giving your 7-digit landline to michael. you couldn’t believe your go-go boots led you to met the handsome michael jackson.

in honor of michael finally getting his drivers license, he offers to take you on a late night drive.

well, let me elaborate. months after getting his license, you finally allow michael to take you on a ride. you’d heard from his sister just how much how he’d joyride when he’d first begun to drive. he’d brake at the absolute last second, turn corners like a speed racer, and go twenty miles over the limit.

you’d given a resounding hell no each and every time he asked– until he brought you proof that he had gotten better, you would never be in his passenger seat. the proof had come from his brother, tito, who you trusted with your life. tito claimed that michael had even learned the freeways.

now that? you had to see. 

michael wasted no time, interlocking your fingers and pulling you to his 1985 mercedes– opening the passenger door for you and placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head when you’re safely inside. he'd proceeded to shut the door and practically skipped to the driver's side.

he’d driven for thirty minutes at this point and you found yourself impressed. michael had taken you down busy roads, back streets, on and off the freeway, and through parking lots just to show you how much practice he’d had. you couldn’t get over how cute he looked in the drivers seat, that proud little smile on his face– streetlights reflecting in his eyes every time he glanced over at you. he didn’t touch you, no, he kept both hands on the steering wheel at all times. 

you, on the other hand, placed a hand on his thigh moments earlier. he didn’t think anything of it; in fact he felt better with your touch. he’d always take whatever touch you were willing to give him. you ask him to show you the freeway one final time and he turns twice before speeding onto the ramp.

“m’so proud of you, baby.” you look over at him, watching how the streetlights cast shadows over his face and highlight the curls falling around his face. michael gives you that quick glance, smile stretched bigger hearing your soft voice over the music filling the space. he mumbles “thank you, pretty girl” before turning back, “see? told ‘ya you’d be safe with me.”

you hum as you lean over the center console and press a lingering kiss to his cheek. and god, he’s so cute, you can hear the pause in his breath as he readjusts his grip on the steering wheel. you lean back just to watch his reaction– catching the little shimmy of his hips in the seat as you do.

leaning toward him again, you give him another sweet and slow kiss, this time to the space just below his ear. he lets out a low, nervous laugh. “what’re you doin’, hm?”

you don’t answer him, instead reaching to your side to unbuckle your seatbelt. you plant one hand on the center console, the other still resting against his leg, and use this as leverage to get closer. your lips find the corner of his mouth before following an invincible path down the side of his neck. the hand on his leg slides slightly higher. “i don’t– maybe you shouldn’t–”

“i don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” your reply is muffled as you plant open mouth kisses to his neck. the vibrations send a shiver down michael’s spine. you run your hand back down his leg and bring it back, even higher than before. your fingers tease the inside of his sweatpant covered thigh. michael begins to say something, but you shush him. 

he continues anyway. “your seatbelt–” he cuts himself off with a gasp as your fingers trail over the length of him, hard despite how terrible of an idea this was. “–pull over. honey, please, let me pull over–”

“no,” your palm presses more firmly against him through the soft cotton of his sweats, and he whimpers– actually whimpers– high and needy in the back of his throat. “keep driving, michael.”

“but i can't,” his hips buck up involuntarily into your touch, foot pressing against the gas pedal causing the car to lurch forward slightly before evening back out. “can't focus if you–”

“you’ve been doin’ so good, baby; showin’ me how much you’ve been learnin’,” your fingers curl around him through the fabric, stroking slowly. “i'll make it quick, promise.”

michael’s breath comes out in short, desperate pants. “oh god,” he whines, trying his hardest not to give in. your poor baby. “you’re gonna, we’re gonna crash–”

“not gonna crash, 'trust you.” your head is sinking lower. you shift onto your knees and press a kiss to where you can feel the tip of him. looking up, you see his lips are parted and his eyes dart between you and the road. “you got this, jus’ keep your eyes forward.”

the praise makes him break, hips jutting up just from your words. “o-okay. okay, but–oh–”

your fingers met his waistband immediately, tugging wordlessly at the elastic band. he gets the message, hips lifting off the leather seat for a fraction of a second. it’s enough for you to work his sweatpants down. his underwear still clings to him– and you hook your fingers into those too. “let me in, sweet boy.”

he lets out a shuddering breath at the endearment and lifts his hips again. you shimmy the last layer down his thighs and he springs free, hard and beautiful, tip already glistening in the dim light of the night. michael makes a wounded sound, his head falling back against the headrest for just a second before he jerks it forward again, remembering where he is, and what he’s supposed to be doing. 

“that’s it,” you praise, wrapping your hand around him properly now. he’s hot in your palm, and when you stroke up leisurely he sobs. “so handsome, my baby.” you press a kiss to his stomach and his dick twitches in your hand. “keep the car steady, ‘kay, mikey?”

“yes,” he gasps out, “yes, yes, i’ll try–”

you reward him by pressing a kiss to his tip, light, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. the car swerves slightly and he overcorrects. “sorry, sorry…”

but you look up at him with a disapproving frown, “should i stop? too much for you, hm?”

“no, please– jus’ sensitive, keep goin–” 

his voice breaks off when you take him into your mouth. his hips jerk up involuntarily, but he manages to keep the car steady, knuckles strained against the steering wheel. you hum softly around him and he sobs again, louder this time.

“oh god, oh god, oh god–”

you take him deeper, letting your tongue trace along the underside of his shaft. he tastes clean, slightly salty, and the weight of him on your tongue is perfect. you keep one hand braced on his thigh while the other snakes down to apply some kind of friction between your legs. you hollow your cheeks and suck gently, pulling back until just the tip rests on your tongue, then sink down again. establishing a rhythm. his right hand leaves the wheel, reaching down toward your head. he catches himself and slams it back up. 

michael is losing himself in the feeling of your wet mouth, eyes fluttering shut and snapping back open when he catches himself. the sight of your arched back is a tease, knowing he can’t touch you, can’t run a hand down your spine, to grip the fat flesh of your ass that's his– all his.

michael's breathing has gone ragged, coming in short, sharp gasps. you can feel his thigh tensing beneath your hand, the muscles jumping and twitching. his hips keep trying to move, little aborted thrusts that he's clearly fighting to control. you let him, just slightly, meeting his shallow movements with your own.

“baby,” he gasps out, voice wrecked and raw. “i’m– you gotta–”

but you don’t stop. bobbing your faster, using your hand to stroke what he can’t take. he's close. you can tell by the desperate little sounds he's making in the back of his throat. his thighs are shaking now, and when you glance up through your lashes, you can see his head thrown back against the headrest, eyes slightly open and on the road, his beautiful throat exposed. 

“please, please, please– pleaseplease,” he begs, though you’re not quite sure for what. his voice is pitchy and whiny and, maybe you should have made him pull over, so you can feel him deep inside of you, see his pretty face in the moonlight as you have your way with him. 

you moan around him and his hips buck up– causing you to gag and dig your nails into his thigh.

the feeling is too much, and michael breaks, coming with a cry that’s almost a scream– broken and beautiful. his whole body goes taut, every muscle locked tight and a hand falls from the wheel to the back of your head, pushing you down as he pulses against your tongue. 

you swallow around him, taking everything he gives you. his hips jerk erratically and you gentle your movements, letting him ride out his high. he’s mumbling something under his breath that you can’t quite hear. he leaves your mouth with a pop as you pull off of him, tucking him gently back into his briefs and sweats. 

you lean over to kiss his temple with a soft smile, “did so good for me. so, so, good.”

michael has been over to your house more time than he can count. it's become a home away from home when he isn't at hayvenhurst, and each time he steps through the threshold, coziness instantly wraps around him. a soft 'thank you' slips past his lips each time, becoming routine, habitual, even, for him to thank your father for letting him into his house once again. to which your father father would always give the younger a stern squeeze on the shoulder, one filled with love and warmth, 'you'll always have a place here."

but you see, michael doesn't feel like he should have a place in your home. not when he's thief under the same man who shows him nothing but gentleness and grace roof. and especially not if he had learned that true reason as to why his daughter has to shop for new undergarments every few months. which is all the reason more why michael's body temperature spikes and his eyes get a little shifty when bill praises michael for being such a good person in his daughter's life.

and he feels bad! trust and believe he does! just particularly not when he has the skimpy material of your panties wrapped around the head of his dick. of course making sure that the gusset is perfect pressed against his tip, the mere idea that they've been worn by you makes michael burn from the inside out.

he should feel like the worst person ever getting off to his bestfriend, you've been nothing but sweet and kind to him. being his endless light when he had nothing else to look forward to. and this is how he repays you? by stealing you panties, wrapping them around his length till the opaque material turns translucent from his arousal, until he's left nothing less than a mess. chest heaving, eyes screwed shut, and fist pumping at such a pace the squelching doesn't even make him embarrassed.

it's only when he opens his eyes and looks down at his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, that he begins to feel a little guilty at the sight of your panties (that he can only imagine you're rummaging through every corner of your room looking for) covered in his spent. the true guilt of his sinful act only burdens him when he's balling up your panties and stuffing them down beneath all the trash in his bathroom, praying that no goes searching through it.

michael always has to take a shower after he touches himself, simply washing his hands and himself up won't work. so, when he's met with the reflection of himself in the mirror, expecting to be met with remorsefulness. he'd go and tell you everything, about how your panties haven't just vanished out of thin air, but how it's been him, and he'd beg and beg on his knees for you to forgive him . . . but alas, he's meet with his mirrored reflection with riddled thoughts that tell him he must sneak another pair.

"i'll be jus' a minute, mikey!" you shout from across the hall as you enter the bathroom. you're getting changed into you pajamas since this movie night is being held at your house. it's been something you've been looking forward to all week, preparing snacks for you and michael as you curated the perfect movies to watch tonight.

and the only thing michael can mutter out is a meek "okay," his eyes trained on your dirty laundry hamper since the moment the two of you walked up those stairs and he plopped himself on his bed. swallowing the lump in his throat as he adjusted himself below his flannel pajama pants, cursing himself because he doesn't want this movie night to go the same as the last before it, or the one before that one. where his poor dick would be so strained against the confines of his briefs and flannel pants, so much so that you where questioning him on why he's so tense, not knowing that you soft touches on his arm would make him bolt from the sofa and make a beeline to the bathroom.

it doesn't take michael long to ditch all efforts of self control by digging his dull nails into the fuzzy material of his pajama pants. standing up from your bed and making quick strides to your dirty laundry hamper in the corner of your room.

he couldn't tell from where he sat on your bed, but he can clearly tell now from where he stands. the little pink slip of material peeking past the opening of the hamper that caught his eye wasn't the normal cotton material of your panties, but instead was made of delicate lacy designs. blood rushing to his pants as a large hand reached to take (steal) the intimate. calloused fingers wearily brushing against the material of the panties just in case it poofs away right before him. but when those same fingers hook around the waistband of the panties and pull them from before trapped underneath your hamper's top, michael lets out a huff.

peaking over his shoulder and out into the hallway to make sure you're still in the bathroom and bill and your mom are still in their bedroom. turning back to inspect your pantie in his grasp when the coast is clear.

and what other way inspect the garment than for him to bring it up to his nose and inhale? the eyes you compliment just about every single chance you get flutter shut at the sweet scent of you, a muffled groan escaping its way past michael's lips.

it's wrong.

used to repeat in his mind when he first started stealing you panties, but at some point he started questioning if it was so wrong, why did it feel so right?

maybe it's sick of him, selfish even. especially when you come to him as your best friend, genders put aside, about the odd phenomenon of various pairs of your panties going missing. of course the best friend he is he consuls you, telling you maybe you guys need to get your dryer checked out since he does remember a few years ago pieces from each of the jackson family members going missing, all for it to be found in the crevices or behind the dryer. he'd even go as far as to tease that that there's a stealing ghost haunting your home. laughing when you swat at him as you slump further into your bed, pouting about your favorite pair of panties, the pale pink one with tiny strawberries all over it, going missing. except unbeknownst to you, michael goes quiet, reminiscing over messing that pair up with his spent.

the only thing that really matters in his mind right now is when you've bought these lacy panties, and if you have more, and who you bought them for. flashes of green and envy at the thought that one of those college boys you've been talking to got to see you all pretty in this pair before he ever got to.

he tries not to worry himself with thoughts like that often, especially not as he stuff the panties in his pajama pants pockets and waltz over to sit back down on your bed.

and especially not when he's the one who ruins all your panties for other men.

when you were younger, you never actually got the chance to meet janet's older brothers but it was only when you moved away to a different state and you saw how popular the jackson's became that you realised that your friend had fine ass brothers.

you remember having a crush on all of them, not knowing who to choose, but there was always one that stood out from the rest and that was michael.

it was just a coincidence that he turned out to be a bigger star than the rest of them, with him going solo and having the biggest selling album of all time.

you pull your car to a stop, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head before opening your car door.

just as you go to open up your trunk so you can get out your multiple suitcases, the door of hayvenhurst bursts open.

“you’re here!” janet squeals, running towards you and giving you a massive hug.

you laugh, hugging her back just as tightly.

“im so excited to be here. oh my gosh this place is much bigger in person.” you gawk, looking up at the massive lawn.

“ehhh you get used to it.” janet smiles, before looking at the multiple suitcases and bags that are stuffed into your trunk.

“girl did you pack your whole life in here?” she laughs, helping you take out your stuff.

“janet im here for six damn weeks, i need options.” you giggle.

“fair enough.” she nods, “i hope you have a lot of bikinis in there because we’re about to be by that pool all the time!” she raises a brow.

you give her a look that means ‘girl be so for real.’

she laughs at your facial expression, grabbing a few of your bags and helping you to the door.

“but seriously,” you start. “are you sure your mom is fine with me staying?” you ask.

“pff of course! mommy is more excited for you to stay than i am. she did say there needs to be more women in the house.” janet laughs, dropping one of your suitcases right by the door.

“what about your brothers, will they be fine with me staying?”

“who cares what they think?” janet shrugs. “plus this estate is big enough for us to never see their ugly faces.”

you laugh at her words, going back to your trunk so you can grab a few more bags. it does really feel like you packed your whole world in here. but you’d rather have too much clothes, than too little!

you jump when you hear janet scream at the top of her lungs. “randy! michael! come down here!”

“what?” janet shrugs, when she sees your expression. “we shouldn’t have to carry all of this by ourselves.”

“janet it’s fine.” you smile. “this is all technically my stuff so i should be the one carrying it all.”

“girl please, i have brothers for reasons like this one.” right as she says those words, randy comes round the corner followed by michael.

“did you really have to shout that loud?” randy raises a brow, putting his hands on his hips.

you stop in your tracks when your eyes find michael’s. he looks even more beautiful in person.

“who’s she?” michael’s questions, his voice so smooth and soft spoken that it feels like you’ve been wrapped in a blanket.

“she’s my friend.” janet smiles, “and she’s staying for the summer so be nice.”

“oh ill be nice alright.” randy says, his eyes trailing your body up and down.

you laugh at his words, pulling out another suitcase.

“now go help the girl, that’s what i called y’all down for.” janet says, pushing michael towards you.

randy sighs, coming towards you and helping you with your bags.

“what’s your name?” he asks.

you tell him your name, fixing your sunglasses that are trying to slip off of the top of your head.

“that’s a pretty name.” randy smirks, shaking your hand. but not before squeezing it gently.

“randy stop flirting with my friend, and michael,” you look over to see that michael still hasn’t moved from his position by the door, “stop gawking and go help randy!” janet huffs, bossing around her older brothers.

michael sighs, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, and walking over to your car so he can help with the bags.

the first thing you notice when he steps near you is his cologne.

how can a man smell so damn good.

“hi.” michael nods, holding his hand out for you to shake.

his hand is big, way bigger than yours and you look down at the warmth radiating from his palms.

“hi.” you say, sounding just a bit breathless. “thanks for helping with my stuff, i know it’s a lot but i’m here for the whole summer and i wanted to make sure that i had enough clothes…” you trail off when you see the amused look on janet, randy and even michael’s face.

your face starts to feel strangely warm at the realisation that you just word vomited in front of michael jackson.

randy let’s out a laugh in disbelief. “no way.”

michael stays silent, still gripping your hand, and still staring into your eyes like he’s trying to look into your soul.

“girl.” janet shakes her head, a smile forming on her face, “come and get your butt in this house so i can show you your room.”

“right!” you clear your throat, letting go of michael’s hand who still hasn’t moved, and making your way to the massive doors of hayvenhurst.

“thank you again by the way!” you say over your shoulder to the two men.

“just come on!” janet laughs, leading you into the large foyer.

“i just embarrassed myself didn’t i.” you let out a nervous laugh.

“why did you just spill your guts out there?” janet laughs. “and to michael of all people…”

“i don’t know,” you shrug, “he’s just so nice and…”

janet throws her head back in laughter. “oh my god you totally have a crush on michael.”

“wha— no!” you exclaim, following your friend as she leads you up a large staircase.

“you definitely do. i can’t wait to tell the rest of my brothers and la toya. i mean, i think randy already realised.”

“janet i don’t have a crush on him!” you shout, following her down a long hallway until eventually you both stop at a door.

“mhmm, sure you don’t.” she laughs, “well if you do then this will become a very interesting summer!”

“well i don’t. so there will be nothing interesting to see!” you cross your arms.

“okay!” janet holds her hands up in surrender. “anyways this is your room, my room is just down that hall, to the left and if you must know michael’s room is down that way, all the way at the end of the hall. you can’t miss it.”

“janet!” you gasp, pushing her shoulder playfully.

“okay! okay! ill stop.” she laughs. “but i’m really happy you’re here, you’re gonna enjoy yourself so much!”

“i cannot thank you enough for letting me be here this summer, i know we’re going to have so much fun.” you pull her into a hug.

“that we are!” she says, pulling away. “i mean hot girl summer, remember?”

“exactly that!” you both cackle, doing the handshake that you both learnt when you were both just little girls in school.

“i’m going to leave you here and see how the boys are doing with your overwhelming amount of bags, and you can just meet me downstairs at the pool in, ill say maybe an hour?”

you nod. “definitely! i’m going to take a quick shower because the drive here was long, and ill meet you by the pool, if i can even find where it is.” you laugh.

“okay then how about i meet you here in an hour so i can show you where the pool is because id hate for you to get lost on your first day here!” janet giggles.

“yes, that’ll be amazing.” you open your door, stepping inside. “thank you again, janet.” you say, before closing your door and realising that you may have fucked up by coming here.

because the whole time you were speaking to janet, the only person who was on your mind was michael freaking jackson.

“so…” randy smirks, leaning against your car with his arms crossed.

michael looks up at his younger brother in confusion. “what?”

“so what do you think about pretty girl… janet’s friend.”

michael shrugs, “nothing? i don’t even know her.”

“oh but i bet you wanna know her.” randy laughs.

michael scrunches up his face, “no i don’t. she’s not my friend, why would i want to get to know her? stop being stupid randy.”

“well she obviously likes you.” randy says, raising his eyebrow. “pretty girl never even gave me a second glance when she saw you.”

“she has a name.” michael huffs, crossing his arms.

“ohhhh!” randy cackles, pushing his brothers shoulder. “you don’t like me calling her that do you? getting a bit protective aren’t you mikey?”

“oh shut up.” michael mumbles, feeling his face start to burn up.

“just admit that you like her.” randy states.

“i don’t know her, randy. how can i like someone i don’t know?” michael exclaims, getting frustrated by his little brothers pestering.

“so you’re saying you don’t find her attractive?”

“i— i don’t…”

randy laughs at his brother fumbling over his own words.

“it’s okay to find a girl pretty mikey.” randy snickers, finding this whole situation comical.

michael’s face now feels hot to touch, because he does find you attractive, more than attractive and this is the first time he’s ever met you. so how on earth is he going to handle spending the whole summer with you?

“what are you guys just doing standing there?” michael hears janet call from the open door.

“we’re talkin!” randy yells back.

“well less talking and more carrying these bags upstairs for my girl!” janet stomps back into the house.

“i swear sometimes i wonder who’s worse, her or mother.” randy shakes his head, doing exactly what his baby sister is asking him to do.

michael on the other hand is distracted by you. the way you showed up in tiny tank top, showing a sliver of your smooth stomach, and jeans that hugged your arse so perfectly that he wonders if they were painted on.

he sighs in frustration, annoyed by his own mind.

he shouldn’t be thinking this way about another woman, especially not a woman that’s the same age as his damn sister.

but for some reason he can’t, his mind is engraved with the thought of you.

for the past couple of days, all you and janet have been doing is lazing around by the pool, painting each others nails, shopping, gossiping about ex boyfriends, and just having fun.

you never thought hayvenhurst could be this welcoming, and have such a homey feeling. and you also didn’t expect janet to be correct about the mansion being big enough that you won’t even see her brothers or anyone else for that matter, because you’ve actually hardly seen them.

this is only your second week here so far, and you’ve only caught a tiny glimpse of marlon when he was on his way out to a date, but that’s it.

it’s like they all have their own seperate bubbles in the estate and only come out when they feel like it.

that’s why it was such a shock that when you decided to come into the kitchen late at night to grab a bottle of water, you found michael sitting on a stool at the island, with a notebook and a glass of orange juice.

you nearly run back out of the kitchen and back to your room because not only is the one person who you can’t get out of your mind less than ten feet away but also because you’re alone… with him.

a man who has been in your dreams for as long as you can remember and now he’s just there, right in your reach.

you’re probably going to embarrass yourself again.

he still hasn’t noticed you by the door way, too busy scribbling down notes.

“hi.” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen and making a beeline straight for the fridge.

michael’s head pops up at the sound of your smooth, velvety voice and immediately takes in what you’re wearing. he tries not to let his eyes wander, but it’s hard to stay focused when he can make out your tiny pyjama shorts, that look like they just about cover your arse.

he clears his throat, ridding his mind of those filthy thoughts. “hi.” his mouth forms a tight lipped smile, before he ducks his head back down and tries to concentrate on his notebook filled with unfinished lyrics.

you feel a small pang of hurt in your chest at the feeling of being dismissed. you get it, you’re just a regular girl who happens to be his sisters bestfriend and also staying in his home for the summer, but he doesn’t even care that you’re here, at all.

honestly why would he? he probably has hundreds of women fawning over him and you think that out of all of them, you’ll be the one to catch his attention.

ugh, you hate that you’re so delusional and you hate that you can’t get him out of your fucking head.

“sorry.” you apologise, taking out a bottle of water from the fridge. “m’ just here to get water, i didn’t mean to disturb you.” you give him the same tight lipped smile that he gave you and start to make your way out of the kitchen.

“it’s okay.” his soft voice, stops you immediately. “you didn’t disturb me.”

you turn around immediately at his words, biting your bottom lip.

“are you not tired?” you ask, mentally face palming at the question. you just got an invitation to carry on a conversation with your biggest obsession and the first thing you ask him is that? “im sorry, that’s not what i meant, i mean… its late and you’re not in bed like everyone else.” you shrug.

you should really stop speaking. because it’s like the more you speak, the more embarrassing shit comes out your mouth.

michael let’s put a soft chuckle. “it’s okay. i find it hard to sleep at night sometimes, so instead of sleeping, i write down all the ideas that keep me up.”

you nod in understanding.

“why aren’t you sleeping?” you see him raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips and how he easily flipped the question back onto you.

“i- i was sleeping!” you sputter out.

“yet you’re here standing in front of me.” your mouth widens in shock at his bold words.

he normally seems so shy and secluded but you didn’t know that he could be so bold and dare you say, funny?

before you knew it you found yourself on the stool right beside him, talking, laughing and joking around like life long friends.

“you’re so funny!” you laugh, after recovering from a laugh attack that he just gave you. you swear you probably have abs from how hard he’s made you laugh.

he shrugs, a wide smile on his face.

and that’s when you realise that it’s already later than it was before, and you are getting a bit tired.

you yawn for what feels like the twentieth time, and that’s when michael realises you should probably go to bed.

he stands up, stretching out his legs. “c’mon.” he holds out his hand so you can help you off of the stool even though he doesn’t have to. but he is a gentleman after all. “you need to go to bed. you’re practically falling asleep sitting up.”

“i do.” you yawn. “i really enjoyed talking to you tonight mikey.” you give him a tired smile.

“mikey?” he raises a brow.

“yeah. short for michael, do you not like that?” you ask, wondering if you’ve overstepped a line. you may have just spoken to him for an hour straight but you’re still practically a nobody to him.

“i like when you say it.” he says, causing heat to creep up the back of your neck.

was that him just flirting with you?

“okay.” you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “ill call you that more often then.” you smile, grabbing your unopened bottle of water.

“goodnight mikey.” you whisper, leaving him standing at the kitchen island all by himself.

as you walk out of the kitchen, michael takes a deep breath.

he never wanted this. it was okay at first because he thought he could keep himself busy and avoid you. but now that he’s heard your laugh, heard your sassy comebacks, saw the way you looked so relaxed in his presence… he just may have fucked up.

because now he has to have you.

you and michael have sort of made a routine since that one night you both spent talking in the kitchen. it happened once, then again, then again until every single night after that, you found yourself in that kitchen talking to michael about how your day went, what you and janet got up too etc. and he did the same, talking to you about his demo’s that he showed quincy, telling you about how he went to visit a children’s hospital with bill so he could give them toys and read them stories.

you never thought you could become even more obsessed with someone. but michael is genuinely one of a kind. he’s quirky, has a good soul, loves to compliment you. at this point you’ll consider him your friend.

you remember trying to hide it from janet the first night but she saw underneath all of your lies and is aware that you want michael jackson… badly.

she wastes no time with teasing you about him every chance she gets, like now.

“i can practically see you drooling.” janet snickers.

you gasp, hitting her softly on her arm.

“that was so loud, what if he hears!” you exclaim, looking over at the pool where michael and his brothers are relaxing.

“oh please, he’s already staring at you.”

your neck snaps towards michael, who’s laying on a float, with his shirt unbuttoned and swim shorts. you can’t exactly see if he’s looking at you since he’s wearing his shades, and marlon seems to be saying something to him. but with the way his head is pointed in your direction, you can’t exactly rule out the fact that he might be looking at you.

you lean back on your sunbed, scoffing. “why would he even be staring at me?”

“because he likes you, and you unfortunately like him.” she makes a face in disgust, still trying to get over the fact that you have a massive crush on her brother.

you laugh, “it’s not unfortunate, he’s cute. really cute.”

she pretends to gag at your words. “okay i can just about deal with you having a crush on my brother, but i can’t and won’t sit here and listen to you absolutely drool over him.”

“you started it. you should’ve never said anything.” you say, watching the way randy jumps into the pool, splashing everyone even you a bit.

“damn it, randy.” janet yells, wiping her arms off with her towel that was hung at the back of her sunbed.

“that’s what happens when you girls refuse to get in the pool.” randy grins.

“im tanning.” janet holds up her middle finger, before settling back and closing her eyes.

“what about you pretty girl, you wanna come in the pool with us.” you laugh at the nickname randy has given you, because unfortunately from the first day he met you and he called you that, it’s seemed to have stuck.

“sure.” you shrug, taking off your shades and plopping them on your sunbed.

janet lifts her shades up and gives you a cheeky wink.

“stop it.” you laugh, taking off your cover up that’s wrapped around your waist.

you slip into the pool, and right away you’re getting splashed with water from randy.

“randy!” you squeal, splashing water back at him.

you shriek, swimming to the edge of the pool coincidentally next to michael and his float.

“quit it.” michael says to randy, when he sees you trying to get away from him.

“oh you hiding behind mikey now?” randy smirks, when you hide behind michael’s float.

your smile is so big that you’re surprised your cheeks ain’t aching, “i thought i was going to have a peaceful swim in the pool not for you to try and drown me!” you joke.

“that’s why i never go in the pool with them boys!” janet shouts from her sunbed.

“you could’ve warned me!” you shout back, still clutching onto the edge of michael’s float who is laying there unfazed by this whole thing.

“it’s okay pretty, ill get you back next time.” randy gives you a wink before getting absolutely dunked by marlon.

“and that’s what he gets.” michael whispers to himself but you overhear it.

“hey!” you look up at him, brushing some of your wet curls out of your face.

“hey,” he says softly, smiling down at you.

michael tracks the way you bite your lip nervously before opening up your mouth to speak.

“were you watching me over there?” you grin.

“i was.” he says, honestly.

“why?” you question, putting both of your hands on his float, right near his shoulder.

“‘cause you’re pretty.” your heart speeds up at his choice of words.

“you think so?” you ask boldly, you have no idea where this surge of boldness has came from.

“mhm.” he hums, his gaze dropping to your lips. a sudden silence takes over and you realise that your faces are much closer than they were before.

“will yall just kiss already!” marlon shouts, from across the pool.

the tension snaps, you both looking in marlon’s direction.

“that’s what im saying!” janet shouts, making you duck your head in embarrassment.

“you guys are annoying.” michael mutters, settling back onto his float. you were so entranced by him that you never realised that he was leaned over his float just so he could be close to you.

you shriek, when randy catches you off guard yet again with a splash of water.

“you know what!” you shake your head, deciding to splash him back with everything you got.

“wait wait— pretty m’sorry!” he pleads, when you don’t stop.

“that’s what you get!” you laugh, you look back at michael’s float after being distracted by randy for so long, only to see that his float is empty and he’s making his way back inside with a towel on his shoulder.

“where’s he going?” you ask, “it’s still hot outside?”

“he might be jealous...” marlon says, raising a brow towards you and randy.

“huh?” you ask, seeing randy and marlon laughing. “why would michael be jealous?”

“pretty girl, have you not seen the way he looks at you? that man is obsessed!”

you give randy a look in utter confusion. “i- we… we’re friends, i think? i mean i- i find him cute but he hasn’t made any move that suggests he feels the same about me?” you just about sputter out your words, heat creeping up your neck at the thought that michael may feel the same way about you.

he did call you pretty, so maybe that might mean something. but so does randy and there’s nothing romantic about that?

janet says your name with a groan, sitting up on her sunbed. “babe i love you, i really do but you’re acting really stupid right now.”

“what?” you exclaim.

“he likes you!” marlon says, “you really thought this whole time that this was him just being friendly?”

“yeah!” you shrug. “he’s a nice guy!”

“oh my god.” janet throws her hands in the air, dramatically. “girl you better get your butt in that house and search for your man.”

you nearly choke at her words, “he’s not my man!”

“well he wants to be, and i know you want him to be exactly that, so stop acting like you don’t!” janet says, you stay in the pool, staring at her and her brothers in utter bewilderment.

janet says your name, “go!”

you blink away your nerves, swallowing nervously and getting out of the pool with randy’s help.

“make sure he’s not too mad at me aight, i just wanted to give you both a little push,” randy winks at you, sending you into the hayvenhurst mansion in search of michael.

“michael!” you yell, wrapping your towel around your waist.

you check in the kitchen, no sight of him.

you check the living room, nope, not there.

you remember janet saying that his room is on the same floor as yours, just the last door down the hall, so you decide to trust her words and find his room.

you get to his door, knocking on it a few times. “michael! are you in there?” you ask.

“mikey!” you knock again, not hearing an answer.

you go to knock again, but the door opens revealing michael who looks utterly pissed.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this furious before, and you want to know why.

“can i come in?” you question, when he just stands at the door in silence.

he steps to the side, letting you come into his room. you look around, seeing albums and vinyls everywhere.

pictures and post it notes stuck to every wall, his room basically looks like a studio booth, just with a bed in the middle.

you turn around when you realise he’s still silent behind you.

“michael what’s wrong?” you ask him, sitting on the couch that’s opposite his bed.

“nothing.” he shrugs. “you didn’t need to come and look for me.”

“well i do because you’re brothers were saying that you were upset, did i do something?”

michael looks at you, really looks at you and sees the desperation in your eyes.

“you did nothing, there’s nothing wrong.” he repeats himself, sitting on the edge of his bed.

you sigh, standing up and sitting beside him. “mikey…” you whisper, trying to amp yourself up so you can ask him the question. you are hoping that janet, randy and marlon aren’t setting you up because if they are, what you’re about to say will be embarrassing. “were you jealous seeing me with randy?”

michael’s head snaps up, and the look in his eyes tells it all. “yes. i was.” he admits, truthfully.

your mouth opens in shock at his words, because they were right. janet, marlon and randy were right, he does feel the same way about you.

“i— i hated seeing you two laugh with each other, or the way he kept on calling you pretty girl and—” before you can stop yourself you lean up and press a deep kiss on his lips, stopping him from speaking. after the initial shock of the kiss vanishes, michael closes his eyes, his hand coming up to the back of your head so he can deepen the kiss.

you let out a small whimper in the kiss when michael gently pushes you down onto the bed so he’s now on top of you. you grip onto his unbuttoned shirt, pulling his mouth harder against yours, as you let his tongue push past your lips. the kiss is desperate, messy, filled with heat and lust. but at this point you don’t care, this is all you’ve needed from when you first saw him.

he breaks away from the kiss panting, his forehead dropping against yours. you give him a few light pecks, not wanting your lips to leave his.

“you don’t have to be jealous.” you pant, your hand coming up to tangle in his curls. “because all ive wanted is you.” this time michael is the one kissing you, his mouth shifting into a grin, kissing you like he just the thought of you makes him hungry.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body more firmly on top of yours. you gasp in his mouth, when you feel something thick and heavy pressed against your stomach.

michael realises, breaking away from the kiss and looking down to see a massive tent in his swim shorts. you immediately see the embarrassment on his face. “m’sorry,” he sits up and covers his face. “you— you just drive me insane and you’re so pretty and…”

“mikey.” you say, sitting up and pulling his hands from his face.

“it’s okay.” you smile, biting your bottom lip. you put your hand over his bulge, giving it a squeeze.

michael groans, dropping his head back.

“baby…” he moans, just by the light touch of your hand.

“do you want this?” you question.

“yes.” michael says quickly when your hand goes into his shorts, finding his hot and heavy length. “ive never… fuck,” he curses when you wrap your hand around him, your fingers not even touching all the way, “ive never done this before.”

him saying that shocks you because he’s older than you by a couple years, and while you’ve had boyfriends and have fucked a few times… he hasn’t.

you’ll be lying if you say that you being his first doesn’t make you wet.

“that’s okay.” you whisper, climbing off the bed and getting on your knees right in front of him. you pull him out of his shorts fully, gawking at the length and thickness of him.

“baby, you don’t have to—” michael groans, his eyes rolling back when you wrap your warm mouth around his fat tip. you open your mouth wider, trying to get as much of him in your mouth as possible.

you bob your head up and down, humming at the taste of him.

“oh…” he pants, swallowing hard when you look up at him, your eyes filled with lust. “this feels so good.”

you hum, opening your legs a little wider, your clit throbbing just from you sucking him off.

you take him into your mouth deeper, gagging when his tip reaches the back of your throat. you come off his dick with a pop, swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting all the pre cum that’s oozing out.

michael bucks his hips, when you put him back into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and bopping your head faster.

you feel his dick twitch in your throat, knowing that he’s so close, “oh gosh…baby!” michael whines. his mouth falling open in utter bliss.

“wait, wait!” michael pants, gently using your hair to pull you off of him.

you look up at him, spit dribbling down your chin, your eyes glossy with lust.

“come here,” michael says, pulling you up from your position on your knees.

“wha— mphhh!” michael kisses you, groaning when he tastes himself on your tongue and pulls you onto his lap so you’re right above his throbbing length.

“wanna feel you.” he mumbles against your lips. you nod, pulling your bikini bottoms to the side and feeling your wetness coating your fingers. you reach behind you, raising yourself up as high as you can, feeling his tip breach your entrance.

your mouth falls open, feeling the delicious stretch of his tip pushing inside of you.

michael pushes his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his moans.

you push your self down slowly, taking in every single thick inch of his length.

once you’re fully seated you pull michael’s face towards you, connecting your lips in a messy kiss.

you hold his face, staring into his eyes when you raise yourself up right to the tip and then drop yourself back down.

you moan, finding a steady rhythm and loving the feeling of his thickness stretching you open every time you reach the hilt of him.

“you feel so good,” michael gasps, leaning back on his hands and watching the way your pussy swallows him.

“hmm… so big. you’re so big.” you whine, bouncing faster and feeling that warm heat low in your stomach.

michael grips onto your hips, laying his back down on the mattress fully, even though his feet are still pressed on the floor.

you grind your hips, rubbing your clit and feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.

gripping your hips tighter, michael starts thrusting up into you, throwing his head back at the utter tightness and warmth of your cunt.

he swears he’s never felt such pleasure before in his life.

you shatter above him, flopping onto his chest, hearing his almost broken moans, while his thrusts quicken until you feel him push his whole length into you, feeling the warmth of his seed burst into your womb.

“holy shit.” is the first thing you hear, after the ringing in your ears subside.

you look up at him with a dazed smile, seeing how fucked out he looks.

his curls are sticking to his head, his eyes are completely glossed over. dare you say that he looks… reborn.

“i didn’t expect that to happen when i just came up here to check if you were okay.” you giggle, dropping your head back onto his chest.

“me neither.” he chuckles, “but im glad it happened.”

“really?” you say.

“definitely. ive been wanting to do that since i saw you.”

you hide your face in his neck, feeling embarrassed after you’ve already rode the fuck out of him.

“mikey.” you giggle.

he drops his head down, giving you a kiss on your temple. “im serious though, i didn’t like the way randy was all over you.”

you laugh, “he said he was just doing that so he could give us a little push and now you have to thank him because it worked!” you gesture between the two of you.

“nah i ain’t ever thanking that big head.” michael grins, rubbing a hand up your back.

you smile, leaning up to kiss him deeply.

who knew staying at your bestfriend’s home would have you shackling up with her older brother.

“you think they’re both okay up there? should i go and check on her?” janet asks her brother’s, who have long since came out of the pool and are just playing catch with a beach ball.

marlon snickers, shaking his head. “if you know what’s better for you baby sis, you better leave that girl alone until tomorrow morning. she ain’t coming down anytime soon.”

randy laughs, shaking marlon’s hand.

janet’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at what they’re getting at. after a couple moments of thinking it over, she nearly throws up at the thought. “ew gross! don’t be saying that marlon!” she shouts, throwing a towel at his head.

“you did ask!” marlon cackles.

“yeah right!” janet pouts, knowing that as disgusting as it is, marlon is right and now she’s unfortunately going to have to share you with michael.

because knowing you and knowing michael, you both aren’t letting each other go.

tags: @loveposiie @delictezz @crystal-love46 @bluegangstaaaa @alohaluz @raefoxiegirl @xoxogossipgirl02 @khxna @jxngwons-pinkyy @sofisidera @animegamerfox @its-jennarose @anglfac @michaeljacksonfan01 @a-motherfcking-fish @carmykisses @cal3xx @cinnaqm @mikeyspyt @sugacor3 @starstruckivory @michaelsgirlie @mililahchapter21 @galiixoxo @cannonindeez @griddypops @monoigirl @softchaosdiary505 @mjsfinestfish @catash + add yourself here!

It was fairly new—their relationship, only seven months. But time flew when you had fun—is that what they said? Maybe. More like time flew when she spent so much time engrossed in the man she called her lover and her friend, she forgot to check the time.

It could’ve been worse. She had her head on right; she attended university on a full-ride scholarship studying philosophy and music theory and even played the violin and the guitar on the side. But when she wasn’t studying, when she wasn’t training her ear to detect the smallest shifts—the difference between a flexed finger and a bent wrist, she was enamored.

Wholeheartedly and totally.

Her family moved to Encino from northern California the summer before her senior year of high school—depressing. Work, his father said curtly. Something about new opportunities where his income tripled, networks expanded, and her mother’s business had more room to breathe.

So they packed what little they had and drove to a neighborhood with gated homes and security posted outside one of the biggest houses on the street. She didn’t know it then; she was blissfully unaware that one morning while out on her jog she’d meet him.

A famous entertainer to most, but a quiet boy to others. One who adored the animals he played with in the large yard of his home, the ones he walked with down the quiet street.

She waved, that shy thing, and smiled as she continued down the street. His eyes followed her until she was out of sight, jaw unhinged and lips parted.

Shock? Maybe. Infatuation? Absolutely.

He caught her on her next jog, forcing his eyes to stay on hers and not the ground below them. Rambled on about wanting to know her name, potentially spending time with her, and how she was prettier than the sky on a summer day.

“My name is Analeia,” she said softly, holding her hand out.

His eyes fell to her hand; nails painted a soft pink and wrist covered in a layer of gold bracelets. He held her hand gently. “I’m Michael.”

It was innocent. Sweet. Pure.

Movies, lots of movies. Their first kiss happened during a game of Twister. When her hand rested by his head and her thighs hovered over his waist. He asked her to be his girl two days later with flowers, sheet music, and a new guitar pick—she taught him guitar basics that night.

Now, two years later, she lay on her bed, staring at a photo of them on her nightstand—his lips pressed against her cheek as she squealed from his fingers poking at her sides.

She smiled sadly.

Her bed still smelled like him—something warm and like home. He held her close, arm squeezing her midsection as he pressed soft kisses against her neck and whispered sweet somethings in her ear as she dozed off.

12 days. 288 hours. 17280 minutes.

She missed him.

She coped the only way she knew how—falling asleep listening to his voice on the radio, cuddling with the Minnie Mouse plushie he gave her, and toying with the pretty gold solitaire ring on her right finger—a promise, he’d declared.

And she waited, like he was mail to be delivered. Like the answer to the quiz would soon be revealed if she just…waited a little longer—

For the phone to ring. For the letter to arrive—he wrote a lot of those. For a pebble to hit her window. For him to come home.

Analeia bent down, swiping at the cool air beneath her bed until her fingers grazed a box. The box. Her box. The six-by-eight emerald cardboard box held together by a velvet bow.

It was stuffed to the brim with paper. All different sizes, different shades of dye, ink stains, and more. Salutations addressed to his sweet girl and signed off with a capital M and a heart.

Her lips twisted as she read through them. Some more detailed than others; written during long studio sessions, on the road, or during the early morning hours when his fantasies about her became too much to bear.

Her favorite ones were simple. When he confessed his adoration like a patron to a saint.

I love you, my sweet girl. Forever.

Analeia dove head-first into her Minnie Mouse plushie and screamed. Ragged and intense.

A pause. A breath. A sigh.

Then, like a blessing handed to her from Hera, her landline rang.

She jumped up, her foot snagging on her blanket. It rang again. She snatched the phone off the receiver, breathless. “Hello?”

“You run a marathon or somethin’?”

Her face softened. Her teeth dragged over her bottom lip, desperate to conceal the smile he couldn’t see but felt. “Hi.”

“Hey, baby.”

Baby. Baby. Baby.

She exhaled. Her neck warmed, and her face felt heavy. She twirled the cord around her finger and muttered, “I miss you.”

There was noise behind him. Shuffling. Scooting. Shushing. Then: “I miss you more. You have class today?”

Analeia frowned. “I’on wanna talk about that.”

Michael laughed, that pretty, airy thing that warmed her insides. “About school? Don’t be like that, Ana.”

She pouted. “It was fine. Got a 90 on that test.”

He hummed, shuffling on the hotel bed. “Yeah? The one about—what’s his name—John Locke and all those folks?”

He remembered. She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, that’s the one.” Analeia adjusted the phone against her ear and dropped a beanbag to the floor, bringing the hard plastic down to her knees. “Semester is finally over.

“I’m proud of you.”

Silence.

“Michael?”

“Hm?”

“When are you comin’ home?”

Three weeks, he said. Three weeks. 21 days. It would take 21 days, hell, maybe 22 for him to return to his rightful place—beside her, in her bed, and kissing her until her lips swale and she was breathless. Her frown deepened. She didn’t say anything for a while.

“Leia.”

“Yes?”

“Stop poutin,” he tsk’d. She heard the bed dip and groan beneath his weight. Then the covers. He shuffled beneath them. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Analeia blinked at the ceiling, muttering as clumps of mascara slid along her waterline. She swallowed thickly. “Okay.” She sniffed. “Love you, superstar.”

“I love you more, pretty.”

-

The wood barked for her attention. Her eyes snagged toward the front door, and she lowered her book slowly.

“That can’t be the food,” she muttered to herself, knuckles cracking beneath her weight as she pushed herself off the couch. Her bare feet slid against the floor. The bangles on her wrist clanked as she stuck her hand out. She flicked the lock and opened the door slowly.

Brown skin. Twinkling rope of gold. Beautiful afro. Slender beneath tailored slacks and a satin button down with the buttons undone. And that smile, shy and disarming and so…him.

Analeia’s eyes lit up. “Michael?”

His smile widened. “Hey…”

“I thought—” She shook her head and moved toward him quickly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His hands fell at her waist, steady and sure. Her cheek pressed against his neck and she squeezed him tightly. “You said three weeks two days ago.”

His hands tightened slightly at her waist, like he’d been waiting to hold her again. He reached behind him, pushing the front door closed as he stepped over the threshold.

“Yeah,” Michael said sheepishly. He pulled back just enough to kiss her forehead. “Surprise.”

Analeia opened her mouth to speak but was silenced by his lips on hers. She squealed then softened in his embrace. Her hands slid across the expanse of his lean shoulders, fingers coiling in his soft curls. Michael’s finger hooked in the loop of her jeans, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulled away with a giggle. She rubbed her thumb across his lip, wiping away the remnants of her cherry lip gloss. His eyes lowered enough for her stomach to tighten. “…missed you.”

“I know,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “I know.”

-