Galactic Daisy

Michael too had followed in your release, flooding your spasming cunt to the brim — cock pushed to the hilt as he shook above you, low, deep noises muffled into your sticky skin.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, lips delicate and loving against the skin, as you panted, fighting to catch your breath and clear the stars from your vision, before rolling off you with an exaggerated sigh. His hand, still hanging loosely over the curve of your stomach, rubbed figure eights into the plush flesh, a slow, gentle display of affection.

“‘You okay, baby?” He breathed, resting his head on his hand, tilting his head to stare at you as you slid onto your side to face him.

You hummed back — a lazy, dazed smile on your face as fatigue washed over you, eyelashes fluttering each time you blinked slowly.

“You wanna’ shower with me?”

“Mm, that sounds heavenly, babe.” You breathed at the delight of the thought, deepening the smile on Michael’s face, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

“C’mere first.” He beckoned, expression deepening as his nimble fingers curled around your cheek, pulling you towards him.

Your lips connected sweetly — another small hum leaving your mouth, into his own, as affection sparked. The kiss was tentative, loving, a gentle collision of love and adoration, his lips soft against your own as they moved slowly. Michael’s caring touch, albeit seductively wondering, slid from your cheek down your stark frame — cupping the small of waist to pull you flush against his chest with calculated smoothness.

It was only when a quiet gasp left your strained throat as his hand slithered down to cup the plumpness of your ass did you know exactly what he was doing.

“Again?” You giggled as your lips were freed, his own now patterning sloppy pecks down your neck, hands steadying yourself on his flexed shoulders.

“Just wanna give it to’ya all the time,” Michael whispered, lips suckling right below your earlobe, hand kneading your behind.

“I genuinely don’t think you could live without sex, Mike.” You teased, laughing breathly as he nibbled at the flesh of your jaw, your hands threading through the silkiness of his hair.

Michael chuckled himself, “Makin’ me sound like some sex-crazed creep.”

Your smile deepened, locking eyes as he pulled away from your neck, a playful smile on his face, “Seriously, I genuinely don’t think you could do it.” You laughed.

Michael’s right eyebrow lurched up, a challenged sense of pride flooding his system, “I bet’cha I could.”

“Is that a challenge, Mr.Jackson?” You pressed, a smirk tugging at your swollen lips, eyes glinting with temptation, “I reckon you couldn’t go two days without it.”

“Sure, baby,” He spoke, condescension evident in his tone.

“Oh, you think you could?”

“Of course.”

“Well, let’s put it to the test.”

Michael chuckled, “What?”

“Let’s see if you’re all talk or not.”

Michael breathed out a laugh, shaking his head at your insinuation — hands rubbing gentle circles on the skin of your waist.

“I know I could, but you though?” You continued, laughing, “Absolutely not.”

Michael’s pride took a blunt punch — your teasing words hitting him straight in the chest. His ego suddenly begging to be inflated at the idea he could possibly not be the best at something.

“You sound confident.” He spoke, ignoring the way his chest burned with the desire to succeed.

“I am,” You started, “I could go a week, easy.”

“A week?” Michael blurted, surprise flooding his voice, “What’cha tryna say, baby?”

You cackled, “Oh, stop. You know I love it, Mike.” You leant down to press a gentle peck to his pouting lips, “But I’d absolutely destroy you.”

Michael shook his head with a chuckle, “Don’t count your chickens, love,” He smirked at his next thought, “I reckon I could break you.”

He leant down, nuzzling neck back into the soft flesh of your neck, peppering kisses over the dark love-bites blooming on your skin, humming at the sweet scent of your perfume flooding his nostrils.

“Ah, ah, you think you can go without it — honour it.” You commanded, pushing his face away from your neck gently, before rising to your feet, standing at the edge of the bed, your stark naked frame now on full display to him.

“What? Come on, baby, I thought we were just joking?” Michael sighed, head lolling to the side, “Come back here.”

“Nope,” You replied with a pop, retreating to the bathroom, hips swaying as you walked, “I say two days, prove me wrong.”

An undeniable need to vindicate overpowered Michael’s brain — a desire to prove his worth flooding every ounce of rationale he had left.

He shook his head with a huffed laugh, pushing himself off the bed, following you to the colder room, softening cock lazily hanging between his legs, “You really wanna play this game?”

“Game? Sweetie, this isn’t a game.” You giggled, reaching for your toothbrush, “I’m deadly serious. I know I would win.”

“You’re real cocky for a woman who begged for six rounds after I came back off tour.”

You gasped at his dig, eyebrows knotting into the crease of your forehead — the similar need to prevail blossoming inside you. You knew exactly what memory he was referring to — he had just come back from his HIStory tour, a painfully long World Tour that lasted months, leaving you alone for weeks on end. And when he returned — you never left the bedroom. Every position, every angle, every new trick was tried that night — six intensely pleasureful rounds of much-needed sex occurred, ten brutal orgasms ripping through you. It was the best sex you had ever experienced together — and something Michael would continuously hold against you as a way to tease you.

“Oh, you wanna play dirty?” You scoffed, a smirk pulling onto your face, “Now, I reckon you couldn’t go one day.”

Michael’s lip slipped between his teeth at the challenge — inhaling deeply at the sudden ultimatum. Mind secretly reeling with panic at the realisation he probably couldn’t go without the sweet tightness of your cunt around him — but he had to validate himself.

“Fine, I’ll humour you.” He started, reaching for his toothbrush with a click of his tongue, “What’s my reward for winning?”

“Sex, obviously.”

Michael snorted, “So, the prize for not having sex, is having sex?”

“Exactly.”

Michael laughed, shaking his head, “I think that’s flawed game, baby.”

You huffed, “I told you, Michael, it’s not a game. I’m deadly serious, you will loose.”

He peered down at you, a serious expression flushed over your face, your manicured hands resting on your bare hips. You looked beautiful in this light, even despite your sassed attitude — the warm hue of the sunrise blooming over your naked body, the rays of light catching the daring look in your eyes as you looked up at his through your lashes.

“Alright then,” Michael started, sliding a glob of toothpaste along the plastic bristles, “If you believe I can’t go a day, I’m certain you can’t go two.”

“Fine,” You giggled with a breath, “Just means I’m already winning.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “You’re so competitive.”

“‘Am not,” You protested, a slight sharpness in your tone at the way your ego bruised, “Fine, we’ll tweak the rules,” You paused, thinking deeply, “Let’s both see who makes it furthest. And whoever hasn’t broken by Saturday, wins.”

Today was Sunday, leaving six days left until Michael would let his ego inflate to the maximum at his success, and finally get to slide into you once again.

“You’re on, baby.”

And that’s how it started.

A firm handshake and a determined twinkle in both of your eyes — and the contest had begun.

Michael assumed you were just going to go on about your normal, day-to-day routine as usual for the next six days — wake up in one another’s arms, have lazy mornings with gentle kisses, alas no sex, and then spend your day as you so chose.

But, no.

Michael had no idea how truly possessive you would get about winning — something that instilled a secretive panic in him at the idea that you may actually crack his resolve.

You started tame on day zero — brushing past him slowly, deliberately gliding the swell of your ass against his crotch, as you moved through the kitchen, acting none-the-wiser to his despair as you peered into the fridge, attempting to suppress the smirk that crept into your face.

Or, you’d appear that evening in the bedroom from your walk-in closet next door — heels clicking against the wooden floors as your frame hit his vision.

He’d been laying in bed, engrossed in the cartoon imagery that played across the screen, laughing softly at a particularly humourous scene, before his attention was completely focused on you.

“Goin’ now, baby.” You’d say, a slight hint of sensuality in your low drawl of words that Michael picked up on as you leant against the doorframe.

Michael swallowed thickly at the sight of you — clad in a dress so tight that every curve of your body was visible, an evil temptation in the form of a thigh-length, black, low cut, backless, body-con dress. You couldn’t hide the smirk that adorned your dolled-up face at the sight of Michael’s eyes practically popping out of his head.

“Jesus.” He breathed, the noise of the television suddenly going on deaf ears as he ogled at you, “God, you look beautiful, baby.”

You did a twirl — just to rub it in his face, the sight of your bare back and the curve of your ass beneath the tight material suddenly on full display to his eager eyes, ones that had now been without the sight of your naked frame for sixteen hours.

“Come here, lemme get a better look at’ya” He commanded, sitting up from his relaxed position, and seating himself at the edge of the mattress.

You moved slowly, teasingly slow — so slow it had Michael growing increasingly antsy by the time you reached him, slotting yourself between his opened legs, hands sliding to his shoulders as his own rose to your sides, stroking the curve of your hip-dips.

“Incredible.” He whispered, eyes trailing all over your frame, “Shouldn’t be seen out in public lookin’ this good.”

You laughed, jerking your neck softly to sway a loose strand of hair from your face, “Can’t pass up on girls night.” You started, “Besides I’m meeting your sisters.”

“Even more reason for you to stay home with me.”

“Don’t be mean.” You swatted his arm playfully, “I’ll be home before y’know it.”

“I doubt it,” He breathed, running a languid hand along your exposed thigh, “Countin’ down the seconds ‘till your home is gonna be like watching paint dry.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You giggled, shaking your head at his theatrical reaction.

“How can I not be when I have a lady who looks like this?—God help me.” Michael sighed, lip coming between his teeth.

A seductive smile trickled onto his bitten lips as his hand wondered recklessly — gliding up your inner thigh to delicately swipe a long, slender finger over your clothes folds, a gasp ripping from your throat as the pad of his middle finger nudged your twitching clit, forcing you to step backwards to separate the pair of you.

You laughed, deep from your chest, “I knew you wouldn’t last.”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He teased, smirking as he rested back on his hands, glistening eyes meeting your own.

“I should count that as loosing, y’know.” You revealed, crossing your arms over your chest, missing the way Michael licked his lips at the sight of your exposed chest being pushed further up, the round of your breasts becoming more visible to him.

“Unless one finger counts as sex baby, I think I’m still winning.”

“Haven’t won yet, Michael.” You reminded, sliding your crocodile-skin patterned handbag over your shoulder, “See you later. Be good.”

“Think you’re forgettin’ something, honey.”

You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, retreating back towards him, eyeing up his teasing smile. You leant down, capturing his lips in a smooth kiss, his chin caught between two of your slim digits. It was only when Michael cascaded a harsh, sudden slap to your ass over the flimsy material of your dress did you move backwards again with a half-gasp, half-laugh.

“You’re only tormentin’ yourself, baby.” You admitted, sending him a knowing look before walking straight out the door.

As Michael watched your gorgeous frame saunter away, the only sound remaining was the clicking of your heeled shoes down the stairs and the faint hum of the TV, it hit him that you were right. He genuinely couldn’t help himself when it came to you, especially when you got dressed up — something that always drove him crazy.

And the torment wasn’t self-inflicted by him like you insinuated — oh, no, it was all administered by you.

Even though his ego had been stroked at the undeniable fact that he’d managed to actually not have sex with you for a now twenty-four hours — his pride was still aching at the horrible realisation you were causing him greater anguish than he was to you.

You had upped your game — deciding that even though he had passed level one, he hadn’t won’t this yet. And you certainly weren’t done pushing his buttons.

You were blind to assume he didn’t know how to do the same.

You were stood in the living room, humming softly to the music that blared from the TV as you stood up from your strained position. You were partaking in your usual Tuesday afternoon yoga session — a habit you’d picked up in recent times after Michael bought and downloaded a whole 3-month course series on the television for you to watch and practice. You were sweating — stray hairs from your tight ponytail tickling your slick neck, cheeks flushed and legs throbbing in heat from the tightness of the yoga pants that clad them.

“And beeeend over, ladies! Stretch those calves!” The encouraging voice from the instructor over the music filled your ears, obeying the command instantly.

Your legs burnt from the tense position you were strained into, swallowing thickly as you concentrated, heat still pulsated through your body.

In your state of focus, you missed the way Michael appeared behind you, the music masking his footsteps as he approached you, standing directly behind your bent over frame. If he wasn’t about to wind you up, he would’ve let himself go at the sight of you face down, ass up for him.

You jumped, squealing loudly with a pleasured ‘Aah!’, falling forwards, catching yourself on your hands as Michael’s mouth latched around your clothed cunt through your pants — teeth grazing over your aching clit.

“Mike!” You screeched, “Y’scared me. What are you doing?” You panted, the increased bodily temperature from the workout nothing compared to the intense arousing heat scorching through you as he pulled away from you.

You peered down, staring at his crouched frame behind you through your spread legs, that infamous shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he studied your reaction.

“Hey, baby.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Michael shrugged, “Nothin’.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking to the floor to dissolve the strain on your body, crossing your legs as you panted. Suddenly, his surprise oral attack felt all too calculated for your liking.

“Nah, I know what you’re doin’.” You blamed, pouting your lips in an accusatory manner.

Michael’s smirk deepened as he too sank to his knees, reaching forward to take a hold of your tense calves, pushing your legs upwards and open, pushing you slowly onto your back. He shuffled towards you, slotting himself between your legs, hovering his body weight over you, sleek hair dangling into your face.

No words were spoken as Michael leant down, pushing your lips together in a fierce kiss — all teeth and tongue as he lapped at your bottom lip, awaiting permission to enter your warm mouth. And when he did, you moaned out loud, the glass house of your pride having stones hurled at it by yours truly from the inside — your ego screaming to be released from the pleasured prison you’d locked it in as his tongue slid against your own. It was only when his crotch met your own, the throbbing statement of his arousal pressing deliciously into the ridge of your clothed cunt, material now sleek with Michael’s spit from where he suckled you, did you spread your legs further, letting him in.

“Michael.” You breathed, disconnecting your lips in a gasp at the sensation, your resolve threatening to transpire as he pressed himself harder into you, hardened cock moving to the side ever so slightly, nudging your clit — sending shockwaves throughout you.

A pathetic whimper left you as he finally rocked against you — his stiff erection now gliding over your cunt, now drooling from the inescapable need that dripped out of you — body betraying you as it begged for him desperately.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, tongue darting out to lick a feather-light stripe over the lobe, smirking as you shuddered.

His hips never stopped — rolling despairingly slow against you, each thrust knocking against your clit relentlessly, the twitching nub that had been screaming for attention for the past thirty hours now throbbing against his hard-on. Your body was exploding — blind lust coursing throughout you at the intensifying desire of the pent up hunger for him.

One thrust rocked against your clit particularly hard, a high-pitched whine falling into the air as your back arched off the ground, heaving chest pressed into his own, a lazy smirk tugging on Michael’s spit-covered lips.

“Thaaat’s it, baby,” He coaxed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, hand trailing down to toy with the waistband of your pants, “Give in to me.”

Give in to me — the arousing connotation did nothing to hide the real undertone of his words.

You gasped, your hands coming to connect with his shoulders in a harsh shove, crawling out from underneath him as he stumbled backwards — his back slamming against the edge of the large couch that splayed behind you both, laughing loudly.

“You fucker.” You seethed, through gritted teeth, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Nearly got’cha there.” He breathed, chuckling as he too caught his breath.

“You playin’ real dirty, Mike.”

“And you were playin’ with fire with that dress last night, but I let you have your fun.” He shot back, smiling widely, “One all.”

His reference to a sports term, meaning both teams had scored a goal each, had you rolling your eyes — trying to ignore the way your body had a visceral reaction at his attempt to break you.

And how scarily close you got to shattering.

Michael rose to his feet, leaning over to press a kiss to your head, palming a hand through your sleek ponytail, before retreating up the stairs once more with a laugh that had you huffing in irritation.

You ground your teeth — this definitely wasn’t over yet.

Michael, sincerely pleased with himself at his success of teasing you breathless, settled in his office — placing down and picking up the phone every few minutes to contact his producers, personal assistant, media executive, anyone and everyone who demanded his attention.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, that one did pretty well.” He mumbled into the phone that was pressed to his ear, swaying gently back and forth in his swivelled chair, “Mhm, okay, tell me about that one again.”

He was focused — knee-deep in important business, having conversations that couldn’t wait or be interrupted. You always respected his working time — anytime he’d click the door of his office shut, you’d busy yourself. Either going shopping, working out or going to visit a friend — you let Michael’s professional life remain separate to your romantic relationship.

But, he lost that respectful distance the second he agreed to this dangerous dance of denying one another pleasure through reckless and teasing means.

“Mhm, so the 23rd and 27th?” He muttered, pen between his lips as he stared down at the notepad full of potential dates for a charity event at a nearby Children’s Hospital.

When, out of the blue, the door to his office opened painfully slow, the low groan of the hinges forced into action filling his ears, the noise of his manager’s voice in his ear drowning into blabber the second the perpetrator behind the interruption met his eyes.

Michael’s jaw fell slack, eyes widening in shock for the thousandth time this week already at the sight before him — you, pretty frame clad in his favourite lingerie set he’d bought you on one of the many shopping sprees he’d taken you on, the delicate lace hugging every ridge and curve of your body perfectly.

It was pastel, babydoll-pink and sheer — the perfect shade of your nipples shining subtly through the material, poking out just enough to meet his darkened gaze, the underwire pushing your tits up to maximum fullness, albeit slightly uncomfortable, but any pain was softened at the reaction he gave you. And the panties didn’t solve his shock — an intoxicating G-string that allowed the curve of your waist, dip of your hips and swell of your ass to be on full display.

You leant against the doorframe seductively — a smirk full of vengeance evident on your face at his stunned expression. You let out a quiet giggle as his chest heaved, grasp on the phone tightening as he watched your every move, not daring to look away.

Michael, performing his infamous lip-bite, sucked in a harsh breath as you turned around, presenting your exposed behind to him — the curve of your ass moving with each movement, a slight recoil with each step.

“Michael?” The confused, barely audible voice of his manager rang through the silent room, questioning his sudden silence.

If you hadn’t turned to look at him over your shoulder, running a curious finger down your side, gooseflesh blooming on your skin at the tentative self-inflicted touch, and slipped around the corner with a laugh, leaving the doorway suddenly empty — Michael would’ve hung up the phone right then and there.

“S-Sorry, lost connection.” He cleared this throat, adjusting his painfully hard cock beneath his slacks, “Carry on.”

On day two, Michael was antsier than ever — cock hard from the moment he woke up, throbbing for attention. He never usually masturbated, as he would rather save his pleasure for when he was inside you, that and because you always there to provide him said arousal every day. His cock was twitching violently every time you approached him, even doing something simple as making breakfast — his dick confused at the sudden change in routine, missing its usual usage.

Thankfully, you had spared him today — not providing any tantalising treatment, just acting as the ultimatum hadn’t even been agreed on to begin with.

Some would think that would bring some much needed relief, but alas not. It was worryingly quiet, scarily calm — something dangerous and hidden underneath your normality that had him tense. He couldn’t figure out what you were planning, but it had him squirming and screaming inside in anticipation — tense and fighting off a forty-eight hour boner wasn’t a good cocktail for Michael.

Michael, who had been working again today, sluggishly pulled himself up the stairs, loosening his tie that he had been forced to wear for an in-person meeting. Fatigue washed over him quickly just as the clock ticked nearer to midnight as he trudged to your shared bedroom — tiredness at the forefront of his brain as the thought of your silly challenge left his busy mind.

“Hey, angel, sorry I’m so late—“

This vision was by far the worst so far — rated so high on the scale of your lustful mockery that it had him choking on air, hands freezing at his sides.

“Mmh, w-welcome home, baby.” You panted, voice cracking as you forced the words out due to your busied hand.

And welcome he was — your obvious sexual invitation sent a cold shiver down his spine, eyes locked on your frame.

You were on your back, slightly arched off the crumpled sheets that splayed beneath you, one hand cupping your bare tit, toying with your erect nipples, as the other worked a buzzing bullet vibrator around your swollen clit. You writhed and whined as he watched you, utterly gobsmacked at the sight of you pleasuring yourself, calling his name like a chant as you nudged a particularly sensitive part of your nub, a trickle of your arousal seeping from your hole that clenched around nothing, begging to be used after being empty for so long.

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, the only words eligible to leave his head as he stepped into the room, not bothering to even shut the door behind him as he rushed before you.

You arched your back further as he neared you, the strong scent of his cologne flooding your heightened senses, a louder, needier whine falling past your lips. Michael swore his dick was seising the way it was twitching uncontrollably beneath his slacks, begging to be freed from the tight constraints of his clothing.

“God, you’re perfect.” Michael breathed, hands coming down to take your raised ankle into his grasp, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the skin.

You whimpered, hand speeding your movements, circles swift against your clit, slick with your arousal — his touch sending shockwaves through you.

Your free foot leant down, as his mouth worked its way over your other foot, hand rubbing slow, loving strokes along your bare leg, and flexed along the obvious bulge in his trousers. Michael gasped against your ankle, lips stuttering against your skin at the feeling of the sudden contact with his stiff manhood.

“Touch yourself too, Michael.” You breathed, voice a sultry order, toe trailing along the ridge of his dick, revelling in the way he panted, hand tightening around your foot, “Wanna see you.”

Michael, hands frantic and panicked, flew to his belt, tugging it off his hips swiftly, throwing it to the floor, before pushing his slacks and boxers to his ankles, kicking them off. His cock slapped against his abdomen wildly, a loud hiss ripping from his throat at the sudden rush of air around his throbbing cock as he knelt on the edge of the bed. Obeying your command, he spit into the palm of his hand before enclosing it around himself.

“Oh fuck.” He drawled, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of his warm spit and tight fist enveloping his manhood as he began stroking himself slowly.

“That’s it, baby,” You coaxed, voice hoarse from your own desperate noises, “Look at me.”

His eyes shot open, instantly locking onto your fucked-out expression, eyebrows knitted together as pleasure washed over your face, the sight of you rubbing the loud sex-toy over your sex filling his vision as he trailed his eyes over your writhing frame.

You soon switched positions, not once leaving his eyeline, slipping a leg over the other, now on your side — before tentatively sliding the buzzing toy down your slit, teasing yourself. You whined deeply from your chest that heaved, lip coming between your teeth as you slowly pushed the short, slim vibrator inside you. It vibrated violently inside you as you slid it in and out quickly, the tip of it grazing your G-spot ever so slightly, but never fully abusing it.

Your head lurched back at the lack of full pleasure, whining desperately. You needed him, fucking badly — pussy drooling as you watched him panting and jerking himself languidly before you, eyes raking over you hungrily, but you weren’t about to loose.

You were still deep in the game after all.

But, your resolve fell on its last legs as he hunched over you, pushing you gently onto your back once more, slotting himself beneath you like he did the day prior — instantly sliding his hard cock between your slit.

The noise that ripped from you sent shockwaves of arousal through Michael’s body as he slid his erect cock over your slick pussy, gathering all of your essence on him. His tip, drooling wildly with pre-cum, nudged at your clit, now abandoned by the vibrator which shook at your side.

“Still determined to win, baby?” Michael breathed, peering down at you, baby hairs that had fallen loose from his low ponytail, sticking to the thin layer of sweat that coated his forehead, his mouth agape as he panted, muscles flexing beside your head.

Words failed you — wanting nothing more than to sass him back, but only pathetic pleas fell from your lips, eyes threatening to roll back with each rock of his hips against your clit.

“Oh my god!”

You cried out loudly, legs lurching to wrap about Michael’s waist as he slid his cock downwards once more, his hand grabbing the buzzing toy from next to you to press against your clit and pushed just the tip inside you.

You shuddered harshly, eyes now rolled brutally to the back of your head as your entrance struggled to stretch around the fat of his cockend, clenching ferociously as he toyed with your clit with the vibrator that was set to the highest setting.

“Say I win.” He panted, fitting every urge inside him to bury himself to the hilt and fuck you senseless, but deciding the childish rules of the game you agreed on was more fulfilling in the moment. And definitely something he could hold against you, “Say I win and I’ll give it to you, baby. Just say the word.”

You heaved, jaw clenching as the words regurgitated up your throat, a mere few inches from being released to his ears — but you swallowed them down.

“In your dreams, Michael.”

Michael shook his head, laughing breathily as he moved his hips backwards, retracting both his hands and his cock from your begging cunt — your eyes shot open.

“No, no! No, please.” You cried, tears filling up in your waterline as a needy, utterly desperate sob threatened to escape your mouth at the loss of contact, cunt twitching angrily at the emptiness. Michael watched you writhe in aching agony as he slipped his shirt off his torso — enamoured at the desperate show you were putting on for him.

“Y’know what to do, baby.” Michael teased, pushing forward to slide slowly between your slick pussy lips, careful to avoid your clit and clenching hole, where he knew you needed him most, a calculated move that had you squirming.

“Okay, okay!” You exclaimed, despair dripping from your tone as you accepted defeat, “You win!”

Michael pushed forward, sheathing himself inside you to the brim with one harsh thrust — bottoming out to the hilt, tip kissing your cervix lovingly.

The sound of both of your relief flooded the room — a loud, fierce scream ripping from your throat at the sudden fullness, legs tightening round his waist as your fingers dug into the tense of his bicep as he groaned lowly into the crook of your shoulder, pressing his body weight against you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight f’me, baby, my God.” Michael exhaled, shuddering at the sensation of your cunt convulsing by itself around him, struggling to accommodate the stretch.

“Michael, please.” You whined, eyes flickering up to his own wrecked ones, “Please—need you. Need you so fucking bad.”

Michael didn’t wait for you to change your mind, change the rules or spout some stupid hidden agenda about the game he hadn’t realised — actually he couldn’t care less about that stupid challenge anymore with the way you were wrapped him like a glove, your slick coating him him from tip to base. His hips moved instantly — snapping up into you with insane speed, moving completely out and back in to the brim, cursing under his breath as your sharp nails dragged down his bare back.

His name chanted from your lips like a prayer as his mauve tip repeatedly slammed against the spot inside you were you clawing to reach earlier — now being abused over and over again as he ploughed into you with intensifying stamina only a man of his talented league would have.

Your pussy squelched loudly, mixing in the air in a swirl of lewdness with your pathetic cries, tears now falling from your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through you — something the both of you had been yearning for for only a few mere days, equivalent to about three years, only worsening at your incessant teasing.

Your orgasm crept up faster than you expected — the familiar feeling crawling up your spine and flooding your abdomen like it had done three days ago before you began your mutual torment on one another. Michael sensed it.

“Fuck, you gonna cum, baby?” He breathed, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as your cunt clenching rabidly around him.

“Yes, fuck, Mikey, yes!” The agreement fell from your lips, barely coherent as you blabbered, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure consumed you aggressively.

“‘M there too, angel.” Michael admitted, his hand slipping between your tangled bodies to where you connected beautifully, the pad of his middle digit rubbing tight circles on your pulsating clit, “Look at me when you cum f’me, I’m right there with you, baby.”

The orgasm that ripped through you, tearing any ounce of self-restraint and playful teasing that you had in you to shreds, hit you like a bulldozer to a glass skyscraper — shattering you into nothingness as your legs shook violently around his waist. Your nails dug hard into him, breaking the skin, as the overwhelming arousal took over every inch of your soul as you kept your intense gaze on him — body writhing and voice singing in electric lust as he fucked you through your release.

And he never let up — feverishly chasing his own high, eyes finally fluttering shut as the sensation consumed him. He buried himself to your very end, cervix flooded with his milky white seed as it spurted inside you — overstimulation forcing the neediest whimpers from his lips, muffled by your hair, as the orgasm he’d been dying for imprisoned him for the best blissful twenty seconds of his life.

For the first time since Sunday — you both lay still. Unmoving, just feeling. No teasing or tournaments — just listening to each other’s racing heartbeats against your chests that were pushed together, heaving breaths hot in your ears, and the pulsating of both your sexes around one another.

You remained like that for a few minutes — silence, for the first time since Michael had stepped into the room, engulfed itself around you.

Michael moved first, twisting his head to the side, cheek warm against the bare of your shoulder — pressing a caste kiss to your jaw, lips sloppy and lazy, yet loving, as he displayed his affection proudly to you. You turned your face to meet his — capturing his lips in a soft, delicate kiss that spoke a thousand words — sending a silent congratulations for winning your childish contest. He understood the language of your lips — his tender kisses giving thanks back, though, the feeling of egotistical validation cascading through his brain, but he kept that to himself.

You pulled away first, pressing your foreheads, sheen with sweat, together, sighing softly. You just stared at one another — the warm, fuzzy aftershock of your release flowing through both of your bodies as you stayed connected below the waist, irrefutable relief the only emotion feasible in the moment.

Yet, due to your mutual elementary, playful nature, Michael couldn’t help himself — leaning back with a smirk tugging onto his face, a knowing grin that had you rolling your eyes with a similar smile before he even spoke his next words,

“Told ya I’d win, baby.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It kept you up at night — how can a man so infatuated not want to strip you bare and ravish you till the sun came up. Not want to see you, stark naked, in all your glory, writhing and whining underneath him as he took you.

Michael had his reasons.

Timidity. Inexperience. Insecurity.

But, the largest factor of all — religion.

Michael was a raised as a devoted Jehovah’s Witness — something his Mother had instilled in him from birth. A religion built on morality and modesty. A religion that forbid sexual intercourse before marriage.

Michael wasn’t as devoted as his Mother — ever since his album Off the Wall, he had slowly began parting ways with the religion. Distancing himself as the connotations of his album were subtly frowned upon due to mentions of sensuality and infidelity — however, his personal beliefs about a higher power still remained.

He still, after his parting, believed that sex was something marital and holy — something to be worshipped and protected, performed with someone you truly love and trust.

And he did. He did, wholeheartedly, love and trust you — with every fibre of his being. But, every time your hand would trickle down his body, grazing over the painfully obvious bulge that clad him beneath his slacks — he would stop you. The guilt that washed over him far greater than any aching pleasure he so desired.

As time progressed, and your relationship blossomed — that guilt diminished. Grower smaller and smaller with each tentative touch or pleading look you’d give him. Each one cracking the glass dome of restraint he had locked himself in.

You knew tonight you’d finally shattered it.

Michael was sat comfortably next to you on the sofa at Hayvenhurst, a gentle hand resting on the curve of your clothed knee, television blabbering in the background as you watched him. He looked gorgeous in every aspect, but right now — calm, relaxed, content, it took the cake.

“Watch the movie, lovey.” His voice soft and bashful, a blush creeping onto the round of his cheeks after catching you staring.

“I think my view is better.”

Michael breathed out a huff of timid air — your quick-witted flirting always got to him. “Stop. Y’know I’ll get shy.”

You giggled next to him, shuffling closer to his warm body, “I know y’beautiful, Mike.”

He laughed, turning his flushed face away from you in embarrassment, “Can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause..” “‘Cause, what, angelface?”

Michael groaned, finally returning his gaze back onto you, a smile he failed to suppress adorning his ethereal face, “‘Cause y’makin’ me think things that I shouldn’t.”

Ting!

The lustful lightbulb sparked so bright in your brain you almost saw stars.

There was your green light.

“Like what, sweetie.” Your voice now hushed, darker, deeper — an undertone of temptation that had Michael reeling inside, “Tell me.”

“B-Baby.” He was cracking — you were certain. The way he twitched as a calculated hand fell into the tense of his lap, stroking languidly along his clothed thigh, the denim scratching along your manicured nails — paired with a small knit in his eyebrows that made him look so deliciously adorable.

“What’s up, honey?” You teased, face now inches from his own bashful one, “Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ mind of yours.”

Michael whined, deep from his throat, as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your mouth moved slowly — trailing to his warm cheek, to the sharp of his jawline, and ending on the smooth of his bare neck. The gentleness of your lips against his burning skin had him fluttering his eyes shut — basking in the sensation. His hands moved subconsciously, once against your knee, now hesitantly holding the curve of your waist as you pressed yourself against him.

“Wanna hear it, Michael.”

He whined again, ever so louder this time, a statement of his timidity, “Baby, please.”

Your lips left his skin to move upwards, meeting his gaze once more. He looked wrecked — torn between honouring his devout innocence or letting his dirty mouth reveal his secrets.

You made the decision for him, clambering over him to settle in his lap, legs either side of his twitching hips. His eyes shot open in surprise.

“Honey, I-“ “It’s okay, sweet boy, I know what you’re thinkin’, anyways. Someone else is doin’ all the talkin’ for ya.”

Michael knew exactly what you were on about.

His embarrassingly obvious hard-on pressed into the softness of your clothed cunt — your skirt ridden up your thighs so perfectly that the cotton of your panties now resided directly on top of the boner he was attempting to hide. Despite never seeing his gracious cock with your own eyes, you knew he was big — every ridge now digging into the slick of your covered folds, hugging his length through his pyjamas bottoms.

“Let me make you feel better, handsome.”

Heaven and hell. That was the only thought that plagued Michael’s mind in this moment. Did he remain pledged to his beliefs, or was the way your drooling cunt wrapped around him, despite the barrier of clothing, enough to make him crack?

With one flex of his grip around your waist, and a breathy whine from your lips — the restraint shattered.

His lips met yours in a feverish connection — sloppy and messy. Spit coating your lips and chin as he forced his eager tongue into your mouth — hands now splayed across the small of your back, pushing you closer. His mouth met yours in a frantic motion, quick and rushed, like he was afraid someone, or something, would stop him at any moment. Your hands slipped up his body, resting on the lean of his shoulders, before sliding into the sweetness of his curls.

He truly crumbled when your hips began moving.

A slow, tantalising rock against him — movements so precise and languid he was certain one harsh buck and he’d fill his boxers right then and there. You had played this game with him before — being in this compromising position wasn’t new to you and Michael. You had once, in a state of pleasure, picked up your speed as you rocked against him, but he quickly shut it down. Telling you, bashfully, he was soon to finish and felt wrong about it — paired with a pout and blush.

This time, though, when your hips picked up a swifter pace — he daren’t stop you.

He’d been agonisingly hard and denied an orgasm for months now — every time he’d nearly get there, the devil on his shoulder telling him to carry on and make a mess of his shorts, the angel on the other side would force him to halt your hips to a stop, apologising at the way you’d whine in disappointment.

Michael let you take what you needed — back arched, hands threaded through his curls as you fucked yourself on his clothed cock, the prettiest noises falling from your swollen lips.

“Y’look so beautiful like this.” Michael revealed quietly, hands following the liquid movements of your hips, eyes trailing over your frame, focusing on your erect nipples poking through your tank-top, the curve of your breasts becoming more visible with each bounce.

With every drag he guided along the ridge of his cock that relentlessly nudged against your puffy clit — your whines got louder, only forcing his cock to throb beneath.

Michael, all too familiarly, held you to a stop.

“Michael.” His name fell past your lips in a desperate plea, the pleasure depleting as you stilled against his crotch.

“I know, I know, sweet girl.” He reassured, leaning up to press a gentle peck to your pouting lips, “M’not stoppin’, don’t worry that pretty head. Just wanna try somethin’.”

He lifted you off his lap with strong precision — settling you down to a place you’d not explored with the temptation between your legs.

His thigh.

“There y’go, pretty.” He whispered, smoothing down the back of your hair in kind strokes, “Go’head, baby, take what’cha you need.”

Your head reeled at the sudden change in his disposition — the once shy boy had magically been transformed into a confident man as the remains of his restraint settled around you.

His new attitude sent a pulsation so strong between your thighs you ground down on his — the tense of his muscle rolling against your nub in the most sensual way. Something you’d never quite felt before.

“Oh, God.” You whined — ignoring the way Michael tched at the name used in vain, not once stopping as he dragged you along his leg, lip caught between his teeth as he ogled at you.

“D’ya feel good, pretty?” Despite his switch in confidence, he was still desperate for your praise, his voice cracking slightly as he met your glossy eyes.

“Mmhm—s-s’good, Mikey.” Your voice hit him right where he needed you most — the place between his twitching legs that had been denied touch for so long.

You didn’t miss the way his hips bucked ever so slightly upwards, chasing a grasp he undeniably craved. Your hands soothed that ache — reaching forward, ever so hesitantly, to palm the bulge in his slacks.

Michael gasped, hand flinching at your side, frantic eyes meeting yours once more, “This okay, angel?” You questioned.

Michael’s lip sucked between his teeth once again, glance flickering from your gorgeous smile to your manicured hands hovering over his crotch. An act he would once deny — but not this time.

He hummed, his voice high-pitched and needy, nodding quickly, “Please, mama.”

A curse fell from your swollen rosebud at the sound of his despair — your hand enveloping around his length beneath his bottoms.

“Oh, my Lord.”

He was done for — head falling back against the plush of the sofa, eyes rolled to his skull as the pleasure washed over him. You wasted no time in pleasing the man beneath you, never once stopping rocking your hips against him, as you slowly stroked him.

The scene was erotic — a dirty array of arousal in the way he bucked his hips unapologetically into your hand, cock throbbing under your palm, as you continued to hump the meat of this thigh, your slick staining the blue denim that had trickled from your soaked panties. It was enough for him — no direct physical contact, but just the right amount of pleasure to satisfy you both.

When your thumb swiped over the oozing head of his cock, Michael lost it. Whining so loud like he didn’t care who heard — the sudden boldness depleting faster than it had come around, now replaced by uncontrollable desperation.

“O-Oh, s-shit,” The curse fell from his mouth before he could suppress it, “G-Gonna cum, lovey.” His hips now fucking up into your hand pathetically, chasing a high he’d been yearning for for so long.

In your own state of blinding pleasure, your only response was a melodic whimper, his tensing thigh hitting the ridge of your clit that had your own orgasm building. Michael, with no prior warning, came with a cry, his milky white release soaking the material of his boxers — the neediest whines of lust filling the room. You soon followed — an exclaim of his name hitting his ears, only furthering his pleasure, as you came undone on his thigh, humping him at such a speed you were almost a blur in his glassy vision.

Michael heaved as he came down from a high that had been lingering on his mind since the moment you met him — an orgasm so strong he was twitching uncontrollably. You stilled against his leg, catching your breath simultaneously, peering down at his fucked out state.

“Thank you, pretty.”

“Ah, ah, I’m not done with you yet.”

Michael swore he died and went to heaven as you dropped to your knees beneath him — eyes hungry and dark, agenda unclear to him.

It was only when you lay your tongue flat against the rough of his jeans, the ones you had once fucked yourself on, licking up your essence that clad the denim, that Michael realised how much of a sex-hungry slut you were. The tang of your seeping arousal lingered on your tongue as you lapped up the mess you’d made on him — glancing up at him through your lashes at his knitted eyebrows and agape mouth. His suspicion that you were a cock-slut only deepening as you retracted your tongue back into your mouth, savouring the taste of yourself, and kissed your way up his leg, getting dangerously close to where he was pulsating.

“Mama, I—“ “Shhh, just gonna clean y’up, baby.”

Michael saw stars when you shoved his pyjama bottoms down his thighs and latched your greedy mouth to the wet spot that clad his boxers, a crackled groan ripping from his throat as you hummed around him. Your lips, settling right against the softening tip of his cock, suckled the cum straight from the cotton — his salty release flooding your tastebuds, colliding with the tang of your own essence in a delicious blaze on your tongue. His hand flew down to cradle your cheek as you lapped up the cum that stained him — his cock throbbing once more as your hands gripped his thighs, jeans now even more wet from your eager mouth.

“Baby—fuck, I-I’m gonn—“ With a strangled cry, another irrepressible spurt of cum shot from him once more, hands tightening ever so slightly around your flushed cheek as you greedily sucked up what he blessed you with — lapping up his second orgasm like you were dying of thirst.

Only when you pulled away, satisfied with your salty refreshment, did Michael’s breathing level out — blissed out expression meeting your devilish one.

And he knew — he had never loved you more.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Wheww his hands.

He’d definitely whisper, “You know what you’re doing,” right in your ear.

You’d be parting your lips to answer him, but he’d be already pushing the shirt up, bunching it at your waist. Hooking his fingers into your panties to pull them down..no wait, he’d actually pull them aside.

౨ৎ

And then like 2 minutes later your hands would be flat on the counter the food long forgotten as he fucks you all passionately his hands on your hips fingers digging in as he rocks into you.

“I could do this all morning. Fucking my gorgeous wife.”

I just know he’d say that all whiny while holding your hand rubbing over your gorgeous ass wedding ring.

"Mmm baby you’re so wet its running down your thighs.“

“Take it. Take all of it.”

He’d be telling you the nastiest things.

"You like being fucked like this? Full of your husband's dick, drooling all on the counter while breakfast cooks huh?"

You’d barely answer him with just a moan that turns into a gasp as he hits that spot inside you.

"Answer me," he’d ask you harder, his free hand thats not holding your hand would slide up to your throat, not squeezing just resting there.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," you’d choke out. "Mikey fuck, yes."

"Wanna fill my pretty lil’ wife up so full that you'll be leaking me all day."

fuckkkkkkkkk

The counter would keep just digging into your hips, but you wouldn’t give a shit you needed that DICK.

So you’d keep pushing back against him, meeting every thrust, your own hand slipping between your legs to rub your clit in circles.

Afterwards he’d pull out slowly, and you’d feel the trickle of his cum sliding down your thigh. He doesn't wipe it though cause he’s a damn freak.

He just puts your panties back in place turning you around, cupping your face, kissing you all sweetly.

ps - he definitely had on those glasses during this.

౨ৎ

- mature era mike fuck me pls and thanks ♡

“You’re making this so damn difficult.” you groaned, but gave in anyway. You let Michael take your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles while he held your gaze.

“Y’know,” Michael began, his dark brown eyes softening.

“Sometime I’m gonna take you out, on an actual date. somewhere real fancy. no more hidin’ from everybody, yeah?” you nodded, a gentle smile on your lips that he mirrored.

“Is that before or after my father kills you for sneakin’ around with his daughter all this time?” you teased, which the boy only smiled at.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” you laughed, leaning back in to kiss him, which he eagerly returned.

You lost yourself in the moment, the warmth of Michael's hands trailing your waist, his mouth moving against yours with urgency. Michael tilted his head to further deepen the kiss with passion that you gladly mirrored. A soft sound escapes your lips, which only egged him on as his slender hands drifted to the small of your back, pulling you close enough that your hips harshly knocked into his.

Michael pulled away from your lips, moving down to press kisses along your jawline and the curve of your neck. You closed your eyes, inhaling shaky breaths as you rested your hands at the nape of his neck, urging him closer.

“Michael…” you murmured unintentionally, and you could feel him smile against your collarbone while he continued to plant open-mouth kisses that would definitely leave marks later. Michael’s hands slid down to your thighs, —the familiar warmth of his skin on yours was a feeling that you would never take for granted. Gripping your plush skin firmly, he pressed you against the wall, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso.

You almost didn’t notice the sound of the rooftop access door swinging open, and the voices of multiple boys overlapping.

“He’s gotta be up here, man.”

“Yeah, Randy, you’ve only said it about twenty times.”

“Man, shut up!”

“Michael! You up here!?”

You and Michael jumped apart like you’d been burned, red-faced and breathless. You slapped a hand over your mouth, and he made a shushing gesture with his finger. You ducked around the corner of the bulkhead as Michael smoothed his collar quickly, stepping out from the shadows of the concrete structure to meet his brothers.

“What’s goin’ on, guys?” 

Despite the situation, you almost laughed at how unnatural the boy sounded.

“Mike! Where you been, man? We’ve been runnin’ around looking for you for ten minutes!”

“C’mon, Mike. Q’s already pissed off ‘cause he can’t find his daughter nowhere either.”

You heard him sheepishly chuckle, muttering a small ‘sorry’, then the sound of Michael's footsteps retreating, along with his brothers’.

To see if the coast was finally clear, you peeked out from behind the bulkhead, only to meet the eyes of the boy you recognized as Michael's older brother, Marlon, who looked straight at you with a knowing smirk on his lips. You could’ve sworn your heart dropped to your ass.

“Marlon, come on, man!” someone shouted, causing his head to whip to the side.

“Coming!” he looked back at you, making a ‘zip’ motion across his lips before darting off.

Shit.

There he is, in quite an awkward position, bodies so close he knows you can hear his heart hammering against his chest. He has his hand close to your hip, his body towering over yours. Michael makes a big effort on not crushing you down, and it gets so difficult because he swears there’s a spark on your eyes he’s never seen before, but he’s too scared to ask.

Too scared to act.

At first it was an innocent afternoon of board games, something you’ve done before, in his very-own bedroom. Yes, you were really close, the co-writing partnership overstepped the professional barrier. Yes, you were his best friend now, and used to stay at Hayvenhurst for long periods of time, even his family wondered if you two were something.  Yes, you both kissed two weeks ago after his studio sessions - a desperate, needy kiss in the middle of the night right when everyone had left and it was just you and him.

But you never talked about it. Michael always slipped away and when you wanted to ask what it meant, you always had to leave for whatever reason it was.

So this was it, you already decided on it. And he was nervous as fuck.

“Your turn,” you say, turning the spinner and taking him out of his own trance.

Left hand. Yellow.

Which happens to be between your bare thighs. And you happen to wear a summer dress, what a wonderful coincidence. You chuckle.

Michael trembles, not because of his weight, but because of the turnout of events. He looks at you, excitement bright in his gaze. He wants to do it. He wants to touch you.

And you wait.

And then, he regrets thinking about it. He’s too shy to make a move.

“Something wrong?” you ask, playing innocent.

Michael exhales, licking his lips. He looks right back at you and shakes his head.

“No, nothing…”

“You sure?”

He nods, but he can’t really help himself. He is still shaking, and you wait - and wait again the long seconds for him to place his damn hand on the fucking yellow circle. Or better, between your legs.

There’s too much going on his mind right now.

He wants you.

He just doesn’t know how to have you.

So he slips his knee on purpose, he quickly rolls over so he doesn’t crush you, and you sit down on the mat. You sigh, frustration taking all over you. Michael is sprawled out, looking at the roof, sorting his thoughts when you sit on his lap, the weight of your ass lay on his body.

“Michael-”

“What-”

You both begin at the same time.

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, but he keeps his mouth shut and let’s you speak.

“I like you, I want you so bad you’ve no idea,” you whisper. “Tell me you want this too.”

Michael swallows.

Is this some kind of dream? You, on top of him, eyes wide with desire but at the same time looking at him so dearly. The rays of sun breaking through the curtains create a halo around you, so ethereal he thinks he finally made it to heaven. He observes every detail on your face. The beauty of your nose, those lips he always wanted to taste, those cheeks he used to pinch just to annoy you, and your eyes… God, your eyes… He can’t stop thinking about them and how they shine when you look at him.

He says nothing, so you lean over and kiss him.

Finally.

He gasps in your mouth and you roll your hips, grinding against his crotch and he muffles a word you can’t really understand because you devour him wholly. Completely, with tongues and teeth. All the tension building up the past weeks melted into the intimacy of your body dancing over his. Michael doesn’t move at all, he just lets you set the pace and he happily tastes you back. Just a kiss has him growing harder in his pants.

You pull back, only to catch some air.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you mumble against his swollen lips.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he answers so softly as he finally finds his voice.

You bite your lip and kiss the sensitive skin of his neck, he shivers as you whisper. “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t planning to anyway.”

You continue the assault on his skin, he tilts his head back, exposing himself even more. Chills run over his body, the temperature of the bedroom rising up. He lets out a broken moan when you bite him just a little and fuck, it makes your panties wet..

You buck your hips one last time and reach out for his belt, pulling down his grey pants and undies to reveal his hardness. You feel him with your hand, rubbing his tip with your thumb. He bucks his hips unaware, but this is the effect you have on him.

“Oh, you’re so ready for me,” you purr and he covers his face with a hand, but he doesn’t stop you.

A dirty smile curves your lips as you go down and take him in your mouth without any warning. Tongue runs softly, hand grabbing what you can’t take further. You go slow, humming at his taste. Michael hisses between his breaths, it’s so good. So fucking nice. He can’t look down, but oh lord, he is enjoying the warm, wet cave your mouth is and wonders if your pussy will feel like this - so delightful and heavenly. So close to that sweet release he craves only during his lonely nights when he thinks of you… His fantasy is broken when you stop, straddling his hips once again.

He feels your hands taking his wrists to reveal his flushed face.

“Don’t cum yet,” you say it so sweet he automatically nods, losing all control over himself.

He’s so hard right now he feels like exploding.

Michael wants everything.

He wants to be inside you, he wants to fuck you so hard, he wants to make love to you, he wants to bite your breasts, he wants to kiss every inch of your body, he wants you to do whatever you want to him…

But he won’t voice it out.

He can’t talk more than a weak sentence. “I wanna please you.”

“Wanna have me ready for you, big boy?” you tease with a smirk and take his hand between your thighs.

Panties aside, you walk him through it. His fingers rub your folds in a gentle stroke, a moan past your lips. His fingertips find your clit and you grind your hips over his big hand and your body shakes. Oh, how you love his huge hands. He makes a motion with his finger, teasing your entrance, but he doesn’t go past that. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but you grab his wrist. At this point you're desperate.

“C’mon, slide it in.”

You order. He obeys.

In a shy, soft move, he rubs his finger inside your walls and you practically fuck yourself on his finger. And God, he loves the view, how your eyes roll and bite your lip between soft whimpers. You ask him for a second finger and he stretches you out. You’re so close to your climax that you force yourself to stop and fix yourself on top of him, your wet sex rubs over his hard cock.

“Plant your feet on the ground, lift your legs, don’t thrust up,” you instruct.

Once again, he does as you say and you sink down on him.  Both of you groan.

Your hands instinctively grab at his wrists, guiding his palms to his sides, where he can’t touch you. Michael is powerless under your grip. He finds out to adore that.

You begin to roll your hips.

“How’d you feel?” you ask him.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

“Good,” you lean down and kiss his lips, he tastes himself on your lips but he doesn’t care. He finds it so hot.

And when you fuck yourself on his cock, hard, hungry, he loses it.

Michael doesn’t move, he just takes your bounce, hands tightened in fists. He’s dying to touch you, so starved but plays with it, giving into you with his body and soul.

The room is filled with the sound of your ass hitting on his thighs driving him insane. The warmth of your pussy is everything he asks for. But you, oh you- you’re always a sight for sore eyes. That’s what he loves the most. The sensation of your heat, your lips swollen and rounded on every moan, mixing with his own grunts and whimpers, and submitting to your control. He’d do this every single day, every night. He’d just let you have him however you wanted.

Tension builds up, he tries to hold on, distracting himself with the stupidest things in mind as you fuck yourself on his cock. He counts to ten, but that’s how far he can go, so he abruptly lets go, hips thrusting up and curses falling off his lips. The sunlight stills over your skin, an angelical view. Your sloppy, erratic hips milk him as you cum with a broken moan, the grip on his wrists softens, body collapsing on top of him.

Michael finally wraps his arms around you, caressing your back in a gentle caress.

“How’d you feel?” he breathes out.

“Better,” you answer, bright eyes on him. “Better now that I’m with you.”

He smiles. “So, can we do more than a kiss now?”

You laugh together.

“Shut up, Michael!”

a/n — whew im so obsessed with michael i just had to whip something up im down bad also feedback is appreciated thank you and pls drop ideas in my ask box my requests are open i def wanna write more of him :)

Soft golden light spilled across the suite like it belonged in a film warm against the marble surfaces, catching in the folds of velvet curtains, glinting off details that were clearly chosen to impress rather than comfort.

You were sprawled across the bed irritated. You had known his concert would run late this life came with waiting.

Your phone was in your hand as you scrolled with sharp, restless movements, the kind that said everything your silence didn’t.

You heard the keycard slide into the lock. The door opened. Closed. The soft pad of his expensive loafers tapped against the floor.

“Baby?” came his voice, softer than the stage version of him you knew the world worshipped. Tired. Careful. Almost searching.

"I know I'm late. The concert ran over, and then there was the afterparty, and i couldn't get away.”

You looked up from your phone. He was at the edge of the bed already, just standing there like he wasn’t sure if you were going to talk to him or ignore him.

“I don’t care about the afterparty, Michael,” you said, meeting him at the edge of the bed.

He sighed, long and deep. "Don't do this. Not tonight. I've had a long day. The crowd was insane, and I gave everything I had on that stage, and all I could think about was getting back to you."

You looked up at him, letting him see the frustration in your eyes.

“I’ve been in this suite for hours. I chose not to go to the show tonight. I watched you perform live from here, and then I just… waited. I’ve reorganized the minibar, counted bathroom tiles, watched like three soap operas I don’t even understand.”

He stood there in a all black tailored jacket, fitted shirt underneath slim trousers that clung to him so well.

He looked so good in black too good, honestly.

"I'm here now," he said softly.

"Are you?" You sat up, tossing your phone aside. "Because it feels like I'm dating a ghost. A very busy ghost who forgets I exist”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration in his face before it softened. “You know that’s not true. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I wasn’t here.”

“Then why does it feel like that every time?” Your voice came out quieter now, less angry and more tired. “I know you don’t mean it, Michael… but I’m still the one sitting here feeling it.”

His eyes met yours again, softer now, less guarded. “It gets chaotic out there and I come off stage and it’s just… people pulling me in every direction. Interviews, crew, everyone needing something from me.” He shook his head slightly. “And then I get back here and I realize I didn’t even check in with you properly.”

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “I’m not trying to make you feel like that.” A pause. “I swear I’m not.”

"Then prove it." You said smirking.

He took a step closer then another, not breaking eye contact once.

"You want me to prove it?" His voice dropped, losing that soft edge and gaining something darker. "Is that what this is about?."

That was exactly what you wanted. You were angry with him, but underneath it all, the need was there.

It had been a while since you two had sex his busy schedule had kept him away from you.

“Well-”

"Don't." He held up a hand, and your mouth snapped shut. "Don't lie to me sweetheart . I know you. I know that look in your eyes. That challenge. Like you're daring me to do something about it."

You met his gaze, refusing to back down. "Well maybe i do want you to do something about it."

He was standing too close. Looking too good. Smelling like that familiar cologne that made your focus slip.

“Mm.”

“Talk to me. Tell me what you need right now.”

A small breath left you. “You,” you said quietly. “I need you. Right now.”

A long pause and then, slowly, he reached up and unbuttoned his jacket.

He shrugged it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor without looking at it.

Then he tugged his shirt over his head.

You couldn't help but let your eyes trail over his lean torso, the smooth skin, the subtle definition of muscles built by years of dancing.

He took your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones.

"Baby," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at me please."

You did. Oh, you always did. Those eyes of his pulled you in like gravity.

"I know I'm gone too much. I know it's hard. Harder than you thought it would be when you signed up for this." His thumb brushed your lower lip. "But I need you to understand something. When I'm out there, in those lights... a part of me is always here. With you. You're the only real thing in my life, do you understand?"

"Yes but why do I feel so invisible?" The words came out cracked, vulnerable.

"Because I'm an idiot." He smiled his smile was so pretty. "Because I get so caught up in trying to be perfect for everyone else that I forget to be perfect for the one person who actually matters."

He leaned in and kissed you your hands came up to grip his shoulders, as the kiss deepened instantly, turning messy and heated. His mouth moving against yours with desperation.

“Fuck…” he muttered when he finally pulled back for air, eyes dropping to your lips he was addicted to your lips.

“Your mouth is so sweet.”

He kissed you again his tongue sliding against yours, slower this time, savoring it, and the soft sound that escaped your throat only seemed to make him melt further into you. One of his hands tightened at your waist while the other moved up your neck, holding you close like he couldn’t get enough.

“M’gonna take care of you,” he whispered against your mouth.

“How?” you asked softly, tilting your head just enough to look up at him through your lashes like you didn’t already know exactly what that tone in his voice meant.

His fingers slid slowly along your waist beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown. "I’m about to show you."

He undressed you slowly each piece like he was unwrapping a gift he'd been waiting years to open. When you were bare beneath him, your skin prickling in the cool hotel air, he just looked at you. His gaze traveled over every curve, every dip, every shadow.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed. "Do you know that? Do you know how many nights I've thought about this? About you? When I'm out there, dancing, singing, giving myself to thousands of people... all I can think about is coming back here and being inside you."

He pressed you back against the pillows, his body covering yours. He kissed down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. His tongue circled your nipple, and you arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"You like that?" he murmured against your skin.

"You know I do."

"I want to hear you say it."

His mouth moved lower, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, your hips. Your breath hitched as he headed further down your body.

"Mikey.."

"Hmm?" He looked up at you, his lips inches from where you wanted him most. His nose traced along your inner thigh, and you felt his breath hot against your core. "Something you want to say?"

"Stop teasing."

He laughed, low and dark. "Always demanding." His hands pressed your thighs apart, spreading you open to his gaze you were so wet.

"But I know how to shut you up, don't I?"

He lowered his head.

The first touch of his tongue against your clit was electric. You gasped, your hips bucking, but his big hands held you in place. He licked you slowly like he was savoring you. Like you were a delicacy he'd been denied for too long.

"Oh, fuck..."

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Your fingers grabbed the sheets your thoughts scattered as heat blurred everything you were trying to stay mad about.

He hummed against you, the vibration alone sending a ripple straight through your whole body.

His tongue circled your clit dipping lower against your entrance. He fucked you with his tongue, and you clutched the sheets even tighter, your mind going blank.

“That’s it,” he said, pulling back just enough to speak. “There she is.”

“Couldn’t wait to get back here and put my mouth on you."

"Oh, please"

“Please, what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Please don’t stop,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He didn't. He ate you like a man starved, his tongue working you with a skill that made your toes curl and your eyes roll. He found every sensitive spot, every place that made you gasp and moan. His fingers joined the party, sliding inside you, curling in that perfect come here motion that hit your g-spot dead on.

"You're so wet for me," he said, his voice muffled against your flesh. "So perfect. All mine. I can just taste how much you need me."

"Yes, yes, all yours-"

"Who do you belong to?" He looked up at you, his chin glistening, his eyes dark with hunger.

"You. Only you, Michael. I promise."

"That's right." He went back to work, his tongue lapping at your clit while his fingers pumped inside you.

The pressure was building, coiling in your belly like a spring being wound tighter and tighter. Your hips moved against his face, chasing the pleasure, and he let you. He let you ride his mouth, his tongue, his fingers.

"Come for me sweet girl," he coaxed. "Please, baby, wanna taste it." He begged.

That was all it took. The wave crashed over you, and you screamed his name, your body convulsing as pleasure ripped through you. He didn't stop, lapping up every drop, drawing out your orgasm until you were a trembling, gasping mess. He groaned against you as you came, like he was drinking in your pleasure, needing it as much as you needed to give it.

He crawled up your body, kissing your stomach, your breasts, your neck, until he was hovering above you. You could taste yourself on his lips when he kissed you.

"See?" he whispered. “That's what you've been missing. I'm going to remind you, over and over, just how much you mean to me.”

He reached down, and you heard the sexy rustle of his belt, the zip of his pants.

"I've been thinking about being inside you all night. Every dance move. Every moment I was on that stage, I was imagining this."

He kicked his pants off, and you felt his cock, hard and thick, pressing against your thigh.

"And now I'm going to fuck you until there's nothing in your head but me."

"Promises, promises." You teased.

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just a raw, predatory intent. "Still smart-mouthing? Don't worry. I know exactly how to fix that."

He lined himself up at your entrance, the tip pressing against you, but he didn’t move. He just held there, teasing you with what was coming next.

"Keep your eyes on me."

You did.

"I love you," he said. "I know I don't say it enough. I know I don't show it enough. But I love you. And I'm going to spend the rest of this night proving it. I need you to understand that every time I'm out there you're all I can think about."

He pushed in slowly inch by inch. You felt yourself stretching around him, accommodating to his size. He filled you completely, deeper than you thought possible, and when he was fully sheathed inside you, he paused.

His gaze dropped to where your bodies were joined a low breath leaving him.

“Oh, what a sight…” he said his hands tightening against your waist.

“Nothing between us. I need this. I need you.”

"Oh fuck..it feels so good."

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you, Michael. I love you."

He began to move. Slow, deep strokes that hit places you didn't know existed. His hips rolled against yours, and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. He wasn't fucking you fast or hard. Not yet. He was making love to you, taking his time, worshipping you with every thrust.

"You feel so good," he breathed against your ear. "Taking me so well. So perfect. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it? Tell me it's mine."

"All mine. Come on say it."

"Yes, yes, it's yours-"

"It's all yours. Every part of me."

He kissed you, deep and demanding, his tongue fucking your mouth in time with his cock fucking your cunt. His hand found your clit, rubbing in circles, and you felt that coil tightening again.

"Already?" He smiled against your lips. "You're so sensitive tonight. Or did you miss me that much?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

"There she is." He laughed, but it turned into a groan as he picked up the pace. "There's my bratty girl. Always gotta have the last word, don't you?"

"Make me shut up then if you don’t like it.”

His eyes flashed. He pulled out, and before you could protest, he grabbed your legs and pushed them up, hooking your ankles over his shoulders. The position opened you up completely, and when he slammed back into you, he went deeper than ever before.

“I.. you’re so deep.” you mumbled not even able to finished what you were going to say fully.

"That's what I thought." He braced his hands on either side of your head, caging you in with his body. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot on your lips. "You wanted my attention? You've got it. All of it. Every fucking drop. I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

The new angle was devastating, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars literally. Your fingers clawed at his back, your moans turning into incoherent babbles. His skin was slick with sweat, the vitiligo patterns on his back glistened under the light.

“You drive me insane,” he grunted.

“Being so good for me now, after how angry you were minutes ago.”

“I was-I am-“

"I know." He leaned down, his forehead pressing against yours, his hips never stopping their relentless rhythm. "And I deserve it. I deserve every bit of your anger. But right now, I just want to make you feel good i need to feel your body come apart around me."

"Michael..." you babbled that was all you could say.

"Give in to me. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere. I love you so much it scares me sometimes."

He kissed you, sloppy and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours. His hand found yours, interlocking your fingers, pressing your palm into the mattress beside your head. He held your hand tight, like he was afraid you might disappear.

"I need you," he whispered against your lips. "I need you so bad sweet thing. You don't even know. When I'm out there, when the lights are blinding me and the crowd is screaming, I close my eyes and I see your face. That's what gets me through. That's what keeps me going."

His thrusts grew more urgent, even more desperate. "I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you. You're everything to me."

His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again. He rubbed you in frantic circles, matching the pace of his hips.

"Come for me," he commanded, but his voice was raw, pleading. "Please, baby."

Your orgasm ripped through you, so intense that you saw white. You screamed his name, your body convulsing, your inner walls clenching around him like a fist. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes locked on yours, watching you fall apart.

"That's it," he breathed. "That's my princess. I love you. I love you so much."

He didn't stop though. He kept fucking you through it, riding out every wave, every pulse. And then you felt him stiffen, heard his guttural groan as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, filling you up completely. His body shuddered above you, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully as he rode out his orgasm.

"I love you," he gasped, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He didn’t care how many times he had to say it.

He collapsed on top of you his cock twitching inside you as he rode out the last of his orgasm. For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Finally, he shifted, pulling out slowly. But he didn't move away. He stayed close, his body still covering yours, his face buried in your neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your skin. "I'm sorry I make you feel like you don't matter. I'm sorry I'm always gone. I'm sorry I'm not here when you need me."

“Michael, you-” your voice caught, breath uneven. “I’m sorry… I should’ve just-”

You looked away for half a second, guilt finally breaking through the frustration you’d been holding onto all night.

"No, let me say this." He lifted his head, and his eyes were wet. "I know I'm not easy to love. I know I'm complicated. I know I have all these walls and all these fears. But you... you break through all of them. You make me feel like I can be normal. Like I can just be a man in love with a woman."

“I know you’re tired,” you whispered. “I know you’ve been working nonstop and I just… I miss you so much sometimes it makes me angry.”

“Babygirl…” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You never have to apologize for wanting me.”

"Angelface." You said reaching up, cupping his face in your hands. "I'm not going anywhere. I love you. All of you. Every part of you."

"You mean that?"

"I mean it."

He kissed you, soft and sweet this time. Gentle. A promise.

"Let me show you again," he whispered.

"Ride me," he breathed. "I want to watch you.“

He shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him until you were straddling his hips. His hands found your waist, guiding you as you sank down onto him, taking him deep inside you.

You moved on top of him, finding your rhythm. His hands slid up your thighs, your hips, your stomach, finally cupping your breasts. His thumbs circled your nipples, and you moaned, throwing your head back.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice full of awe. "How did I get so lucky? How did I find someone like you?"

“You’re so sweet” you muttered softly, almost shy now as if you weren’t currently riding him.

"I mean it." His hips bucked up into you, meeting your movements. "I don't deserve you. But I'm too selfish to let you go."

“You’re not selfish,” you murmured weakly, the words breaking apart as moans slipped from the both of you.

"I am. When it comes to you.”

He sat up, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. The position changed the angle, and you gasped as he hit that spot again. He held you tight, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"I need you so much it hurts.“

"Tell me you're mine again."

"I'm yours. All yours Michael."

He kissed your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, setting the pace.

"Come for me again," he begged. "Please.”

You were close. So close. The pressure was building, coiling tight in your belly. He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles.

"That's it," he coaxed. "I've got you. I'll always have you."

You came with a cry, your body shuddering against his. He held you through it, his arms wrapped tight around you, his lips pressed to your skin.

He came too, his body tensing beneath you, his groan muffled against your neck. You felt him spill inside you again the sensation sent another wave of pleasure through your oversensitive body.

You stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing together. Finally, he pulled back, looking at you with those, beautiful eyes.

"You tired yet," he said.

"Never."

"Good."

He kissed the tip of your nose. "I'm going to spend the whole night showing you how much I love you. Every hour. Every minute.”

When you woke up the suite was quiet sunlight spilled through the curtains in soft streaks, warming the sheets tangled around your legs.

At some point during the night, you must’ve drifted off completely. You didn’t even remember when.

“Morning,” Michael murmured against your skin, his voice rough with sleep.

One of his arms tightened around your waist instinctively, pulling you a little closer against him beneath the sheets.

His hand slid down your side, over your hip, settling on your thigh.

"I love you," he said again, like he couldn't say it enough. Like he needed to fill every silence with those three words.

“And i love you more.”

"I don't deserve you," he whispered.

"Stop saying that."

"It's true."

“That’s not true.”

He kissed you softly. "I'm just not used to it. Not used to someone wanting me for me."

"I want you for you. Just you."

He held you close, his body pressed against yours, his heart beating against your chest.