DARKCHILD

i want to preface this by stating that , i will not write for amad or male genitalia despite me being masc presenting . the most i will do , however , is write gender - neutrally — i myself am afab , so writing for other afab’s and fem. pronouns is what i am used to . so i apologize . majority of my fiction will be gender - neutral pronouns with female genitalia and fem. pronouns . okay ! love ya !! hope you still enjoy what i have to share and that this was easy to understand <3

The sounds of people and music could be heard all around you as you stood in line. You were in front a group of teenaged girls, they were giggling and showing off their Invincible CD's to each other. They held their folded posters tightly in their grip like if they were to loosen it even a little it would fly out of their grasp.

You looked at the memorabilia in your own hands, a CD, a photo, and a poster, you clutched these objects similarly to the way the girls in front of you did. They were truly precious to your heart, just as Michael was.

As soon as your head lifted, you locked eyes with him. You knew he'd known you, your name was one that was familiar among other fangirls, the super crazy fangirl that has been to every Michael Jackson tour since Dangerous.

You watched as his eyes quickly drifted over your outfit, taking it all in before shifting his attention back to the shaking fan in front of him.

The line quickly dissipated and suddenly you were up facing Michael once again, as soon as you reached the table Michael's mood changed, a slight smirk appearing on his pinked lips.

"Hey, Mikey… Did'cha miss me?" your face quickly scrunched into a bright smile, your voice coming out soft, a giggle escaping your lips.

One of Michael's assistants began to try to move you out of the way, quickly catching his attention causing him to dismiss the action. The woman rolled her eyes before stepping to the side.

Your smile stayed as the sound of marker scribbling on paper and plastic was heard before an airy dramatic sigh left Michael's lips. His eyes meeting yours before he spoke, "I suppose so. You gonna be on your best behavior today, yeah? No gettin' kicked out."

He handed the items back to you, his hand lingering on yours longer than anticipated, fingers softly touching each other before resting back on the clothed folding table.

"We'll see.." your voice was soft and silky, as you held the possessions to your chest. Before walking off, you put your arms out to him; hesitantly, he stood and walked around the table, carefully wrapping his arms around your waist enveloping you in a deep hug. The smell of his perfume taking over your senses as your head rested on him. You muttered into his chest, "I love you, Michael."

As the hug broke, you heard Michael whisper back to you:

"I love you more."

You felt as he placed a soft kiss to your right cheek, then quickly wrapped his arms around you again before releasing you. These consecutive actions took you by surprise while at the same time had your face feeling hot.

The fact that the Michael Jackson just told you personally that he loved you was otherworldly after trying to get his attention for so many years. Of course, you knew he'd told many fans personally that he loved them, but it still felt special to you. Like you really could have a chance with him. Michael initially didn't approve of your actions and the craziness, but he didn't like breaking the hearts of his fans.

Over time, though, your overbearing nature left a mark on him. One he loved, but one he'd never admit to loving.

He loved how determined you were, even if the lengths you went to were less than appropriate, such as getting kicked out of events and even being temporarily barred from concerts to the point where even his security knew who you were.

Despite these things, his unusual love for you never faltered. You were a diehard fan after all, you loved him through thick and thin. Through the media scrutiny and the rumors, he still saw you at every event, every concert, every tour.

He'd even seen the interview you did with your local news speaking about him and how other people have noticed your unusual connection to the man. The worldwide sensation, the King of Pop and a random fangirl of his.

When you left his arms, your eyes never left his. If you weren't extremely delusional over him before, you definitely were now. After leaving the store, you sat in your car looking over the items Michael signed for you. Your hands couldn't help but reach your face, obsessing over the spot where he kissed you.

Suddenly, your eyes noticed ink-bleed from the other side of the poster; the blank side. Flipping the poster to the backside, you were met with a phone number and a little note that read:

'We didn't get to talk enough for my liking.'

After returning home, you placed the now signed CD and photo on the coffee table. Sitting on the sofa, you kept the backside of the poster visible as you pulled your cellphone out of your pocket.

You contemplated before deciding on dialing the number. It'd been a few hours since the signing, you had no idea if Michael had even made it back to his hotel yet. The phone rang, until a quick click was heard then a voice.

"I was waitin' for your call, y'know," an airy giggle could be heard on the other end. You didn't even know what to say, Michael Jackson was waiting for his phone to ring like a teenage girl waiting for a call from her landline.

"Really? That's kinda hard to believe seeing as you're Michael Jackson. You're a pretty busy guy." your eyes instinctively rolled. You knew Michael was a flirt, you'd seen the interviews, wishing they were you. You'd seen how he'd been with fans, even onstage. The way he'd kiss their hands, their foreheads, their cheeks, and now your cheek.

Not receiving any of that love just made your obsession and your desire for Michael's attention worse. You wanted to be the special woman in his life, his child-like spirit resonating so deeply with you. You related so much with him too, you found that's why you were so attached to him. Suddenly, you heard him speak.

"I noticed your efforts a while ago. I'd say around the tour for HIStory," you could hear the smile on his face through the cellphone, "I saw you at my 30th Anniversary Celebration, you were in the front. I looked right at you."

You'd thought you went crazy that night, you had moments where you forgot that Michael knew who you were. So when he looked at you, you didn't think he was actually looking at you.

"I saw… I mean, I didn't realize you were actually looking at me. I thought you were just looking in my direction," you replied as you pushed yourself off the sofa to go to your bedroom. "When you and Chris Tucker were on stage, and he did your kick wrong, it was really funny."

Michael could hear you giggling at the thought, the sounds of your sweet laughter melted his heart, you could hear Michael struggling to hold in his own laughter. "That right? Yeah, he's a clown, had me falling out."

"I know! I saw," your voice lowered slightly, as you sat on your bed, "You know, you looked really good that night. You looked good today, too. I love that blue on you."

"Oh, thank you. That's very sweet of you to say. You looked beautiful today too," you adorned a silver spaghetti-strap baby-doll top and low-rise jeans. The jeans fit the curve of your ass just right, Michael noticed as you walked away. His eyes were hooked on the sway of your hips, and the way your ass bounced ever so slightly with every step you took. "Y'know, those jeans—they looked amazing on you. They fit you just right."

The compliments took you by surprise, you weren't really expecting so many from Michael so soon. Even thought it was expected, his flirtatious nature still took you by surprise. After a while, you could hear Michael sigh on the other end. Then he spoke:

"You know what…come to my hotel."

You were quickly taken aback, Michael's request left you speechless. You didn't know how to respond, none of this felt real. Michael Jackson just asked you to come to his hotel for who knows what, well, you assumed you knew why but still.

"So," you heard him say. Your heart felt like it was gonna beat out of your chest, he left you stammering on the other end trying to come up with a coherent response just to fall flat. "You gonna take my request or not, sweetheart?"

You took a deep breath before answering, you'd made up your mind. You were gonna go to Michael's hotel room, and you were going to see where this visit was going to take the two of you. A parasocial fangirl and her—apparently—equally as parasocial King of Pop.

"Yes, Michael, I'll come to your hotel."

"Good choice," you could hear the smirk on his face through the phone. The giddiness evident, he really wanted you to say yes. He loved his fans, he loved you, when he said he loved his supporters he truly meant it.

Soon enough, you were met with a limousine at your front door but no sign of Michael until you were informed that you were to be picked up, then dropped off at the hotel. Your legs bounced with anticipation and anxiety, this was Michael Jackson, the man you would consider to be the sexiest man alive.

You were ushered out of the limo once you made it to Michael's hotel, a body guard waiting outside the building for you. Once out, the guard gestured for you to follow him into the lobby of the hotel, quickly prompting you to do so. You walked into the lobby and were met with something you'd never seen; chandelier all around, it was clear this was an elite hotel.

The lobby of the hotel was bigger than any you've ever seen, but you should've expected something as fancy as this from the King of Pop. The bass in the bodyguard's voice quickly took you from your marveling of the lobby, bringing you back to reality and settling you into the scenario you were currently placed into. You were going to Michael Jackson's hotel room.

The sounds of Michael's breathless moans filled his hotel room as he leaned his head back into his pillows, his hips bucking into his hand, your scent coming back to his mind from earlier in the day. The sweet, vanilla-y scent lingering on to his senses as he stroked himself ever so slowly, his thumb softly rubbing circles.

"Oh— God.." his voice cracked as a shy whimper came from his mouth, causing his hand to go to his mouth to cover it. His brow furrowed before he heard a deep knock on the door of his hotel room.

The sound caused him to begin to scramble, pulling his pajama pants back up to his waist before walking to answer the door. As he opened the door he was met with you and his bodyguard at your side. He wasn't informed that you were here already, before you walked into the hotel room he let out a quiet "Hi."

Discomfort was written all over his face as you went in for a hug, he held you close to his chest as if afraid to let go; he could feel you rubbing against his now softening erection, which only made his desire for you stronger. Michael's face was stuffed into your hair, he inhaled deeply as his hand rested on your head, stroking softly before releasing you.

Michael quickly took your hand into his, catching you off guard but bringing you deeper into his room. He led you to his bed, causing you to sit as he walked back over to the door—you could hear him talking to the bodyguard but you couldn't hear what he was saying.

Soon enough, the hotel room door was closed and the bodyguard was gone.

Michael joined you in sitting on the bed, you didn't really notice at first but he looked disheveled. Hair stuck to his forehead and sweat glistening on his face like he'd just finished something that exerted a lot of energy.

His eyes were half-lidded and tired. And you couldn't forget about the clear boner he had, you didn't want to say anything out of respect for him but it was more than obvious what he'd been doing.

"So, Michael, clearly there was a reason as to why you wanted me at your hotel. Mind sharing?" you scooted a little closer to him, the heat of your bodies so close together took the man by surprise. He could smell you again, that soft vanilla-powdery smell, at this point he felt like it was your natural scent.

Your question echoed through his mind before stopping on a response, he couldn't let his nervousness get to him now. The obscene thoughts he just had of you and him, his hands on your body, your face in his pillow, his hands on your thighs, your waist. His voice was broken and quiet, it wasn't meant to come out that way.

"I… I just wanted you over," Michael cleared his throat and swallowed hard, he didn't want you to know how you were making him feel. He didn't want you to know how he wanted to take your hands and run them all along his body, he wanted to let you touch every part of him. He wanted to be as close to you as possible, he wanted your bodies to meld together as you made sweet love. "I wanted to talk more. You're a beautiful woman. I'd love to get to know you… better."

You watched as Michael's eyes hungrily ran up and down your body, watching the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took, the way your eyes blinked—your eyelashes long and pretty. He could feel his erection growing again as his breathing quickened, then he looked at you with the sweetest doe eyes, and it made your heart melt.

"Is that so? It's flattering being called beautiful by probably the sexiest man in the world, you know," your voice was sultry and plush, like the softness of a pillow, making Michael take your hand and put it on his chest. You could feel his heart beating, it felt like the fluttering of a butterfly, constantly running. You knew Michael was relatively shy, but you didn't expect him to be so nervous.

Michael's soft grasp on your hand never faltered as he moved it down his chest, allowing it to rest on his erection. You could feel the outline of his dick in your hand, softly you palmed it before ceasing the action.

"I love that you love me," his voice was low and shy as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. Your hand moved to the back of his head, softly gripping his hair as he mumbled into your shirt, "I don't think I've ever wanted someone this badly. Let alone a fan."

You let out an airy laugh before Michael raised his head off your shoulder, sliding his hands that was once resting on your lap onto your cheeks cupping them—he spoke, barely a whisper, "So pretty…"

He caressed your face softly before carefully bring his lips to yours, melting into the touch. Your hands rested on top of his as the kiss deepened, but never faltering the same velvety feeling; the need he had for you resonating with the carefulness of his actions.

The kissing slowly turned sloppy as you laid on the bed—Michael on top of you, his knee making its way between your legs to separate them. He precisely moved from your lips, planting kisses on your jawline, moving lower to your neck to your collarbones.

"You're so beautiful. God, you're perfect," his hands ran under your shirt as he rubbed the skin of your waist. Lifting your shirt up, he began to litter kisses on your stomach and chest. Pulling your shirt over your head he started to unclasp your bra leaving you feeling exposed, unintentionally you crossed your arms over your bare breasts, "Let me see how beautiful you are… Please."

You hid your face with the arms that were once covering your chest, as Michael's hand continued up your chest, softly cupping your breast tracing over the nipple before going back down to your waist. You shuddered at the feeling as he unbuttoned your jeans tugging them off you, one arm under your back to lift you off the bed, in the same move he slid your panties down—letting them fall onto the floor of the room before returning to kiss your body.

Your lips parted to release a quiet whine as Michael's hands rested on your pelvis, the man couldn't help telling you how alluring you were, how angelic every part of your body was to him. Soon, you felt his hand snake down to your clit as he made soft little circles, adding the smallest bit of pressure.

"Mmm.. Michael," your hands nearly flew to your face as you tried to hide the building arousal that was evident on your expression. Michael couldn't hide his smile as he bit his lip, his hand moving farther down to tease your entrance with his fingertips.

"You're so wet, lovely girl," Michael continued placing kisses on your stomach as he carefully push a digit into you, then two, your arousal swallowing him whole, the pumping of his fingers into your cunt made an ungodly noise—wet and squelching as his now curved fingertips pressed up into you. Each thrust hitting your g-spot as his hand started to gain speed causing your thighs to nearly snap together on his hand.

"Mikey.. mmph.. shit-"

"Language, dove. I know it feels good, but try to keep a modest mouth, hm?" he spoke softly while using the hand that was once rubbing your clit sore to separate your thighs, holding them apart as he used his thick fingers to guide you to your orgasm. You clenched around him, your free hand gripping the comforter that dressed the bed. Michael continued fingering you, bringing his face back up to your lips engulfing you into a passionate kiss.

He pulled his fingers out of you as he broke the kiss, gaining a hurt gasp out of you. He pulled the waistband of his pajama pants and boxers, pulling them down his legs. The act of leaving you empty had your aching cunt feeling bare as it clenched around nothing, a hurt drawn-out whine left your lips before he shushed you.

"Shh, shh. Oh, honey, it's okay. You're gonna be filled soon, don't you worry," his hand immediately went down to tug at his already leaking dick from base to tip, he repeated the action multiple times before centering it on the entrance of your sopping cunt. Michael pushed ever so slightly, causing only a little more than his tip to slide in. You shuddered, a hand coming to grip him roughly, his eyes tracing all over your naked body.

You looked so pretty under him, your legs spread for him; Michael gripped the plush of your thigh and wrapped it around his waist, following in suit with the other leg. Slowly he thrusted into you, a whimper crawling up your throat, the stretch of the thrust driving you insane as your back arched.

"Mike… Michael, oh my god, I can't-" your grip on Michael's forearms tightened as you nearly dug your nails into him, he leaned over you bringing your lips back to his as his thrusts gained rhythm and pace. He held you closer to him into a kiss as you whined into his mouth with every thrust that was made—driving you over the edge.

"I know I'm a lil' big, baby, 'm sorry," he moaned out. You shook your head in response, you weren't going to make him apologize for something that felt otherworldly; your eyes squeezed in ecstasy as Michael continued to make loving, calculated thrusts into you. His lips met your neck again, placing kisses as his moans started to crack. "I'm.. God, I'm so proud of you, baby."

"You're taking me so—mm—so well," he whined against your neck as short locks in the front of his hair stuck to his forehead, his thrusts progressively getting faster. Your hands met the back of his neck as his girthy length relentlessly pounded up into your g-spot, a rasped moan leaving you mouth.

"Mikey.. 'm close," you sobbed out. Michael's hands grazed down your body before reaching the soft nub of your clit once again, rubbing slow circles as he continued to thrust up into you, desperate, filthy noises coming from your plush lips. He lifted his head off your shoulder and placed his hands onto your waist.

His hands gripped the skin of your waist softly as he threw his head back slightly, his eyes squeezed as pure bliss reached his core. You felt your own orgasm flourishing as Michael mercilessly thrusted into you, your face flush and your eyes watering.

Soft moans escaped your lips as your thighs began to shake, your body felt like it was on fire. Michael's thrusts started to stutter, losing their sense of rhythm, your voice was shaky as you mumbled, "Mm- Michael, 'm gonna cum."

Your eyes shut and you bit your lip as the wave of your orgasm crashed down onto you, the coil in your stomach snapping as whimpers and moans of his name left your mouth. His eyes met yours as he continued thrusting, pulling your legs up onto his shoulders and gripping your thighs in an attempt to get deeper.

"Shit—ah," he swore, whining out. Suddenly he pulled out of you, his dick resting on your pelvis as milky white ropes of cum landed on the soft skin of your stomach, his hands gripping your thighs harder before carefully massaging them. Michael sucked in deeply as he delicately released your legs, letting them hang off the bed.

Michael walked to the bathroom returning with a warm damp towel in hand, softly he cleaned you off without saying a word, while doing so placing tender kisses on your stomach, waist and thighs. The actions took you by surprise, but you should've expected actions as gentle as these to come from the man.

When he was done, he picked your clothes up setting them onto the floor in the bathroom, muttering to you how he'd make sure to get them washed and that you could sleep in something of his tonight.

"Unless, you're not planning on sleeping here…" you could see the expression on his face drop almost immediately at the thought of you abandoning him. Even though he was older and less strict about his sex life, he wasn't much of a one-night-stand-er. He wanted to establish a relationship of sorts with you. His face caused a giggle to erupt out of you as you were now under the comforter you were once laying on.

"Of course I'll stay Michael," his face immediately lit up as he continued to grab you something of his to wear. He landed on a worn-down The Peanuts graphic t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, he handed them to you before sitting on the end of the bed. You slipped the clothing on then peeled back the blanket, patting the spot next to you, urging him to come lay with you.

He complied, crawling under the blanket with you. You weren't really sure what to say exactly, you'd never done this before, and you'd definitely never slept with the most famous man in the entire world. So you asked him, "What do we do now—as in, what are we, what is… our relationship towards each other? A one night stand, or more?"

Your questions rose a defeated sigh out of Michael, leaving him nearly speechless. He wanted something like a relationship with you, but he had kids, he was in his forties, and you were nowhere near his age.

"I don't know, where this leads us. I do know, however, that I want you around," he rested his hand on your head, as the two of you sat up in the bed. Your eyes met his, a smile growing on your faces, he put his hand back down into his lap before speaking again. "You're a beautiful woman, I'd be worse than a fool to pass up someone as breathtaking as as you."

"Well, it's good you're not a fool then."

"Yeah. It is."

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