noni

SHE WAS SITTING on the sofa, leafing through a magazine she had picked up out of sheer curiosity. Michael had rolled his eyes before saying she was about to read some garbage. She had completely ignored him ━ she knew when something was worth her attention and this... Oh boy, it definitely was worth every second.

Thank goodness he had not glanced at the cover, otherwise he would have realised what she was up to. 

Michael was strolling alongside her, one hand idly stroking her leg, clad in a simple pair of jeans, his eyes fixed on a film he probably knew inside out. 

"Tell me."

She snapped the magazine shut in one go, her eyes scrutinising her boyfriend’s profile with intense focus.

"Mm?" he hummed, too absorbed by the screen.

"I want you to be honest with me," she sat up, crossing her legs, now facing him directly, his hand falling back onto the sofa. "I promise not to get upset."

The mere fact that she was moving away from him ━ and talking about not getting angry ━ was enough for Michael to grab the remote, switch off the telly, and focus on his girlfriend. His heart was suddenly beating abnormally faster than usual and he did not like the way she was currently looking at him.

"... About what?"

A mischievous smile played on the young woman’s lips, her tongue was covering part of her teeth, which ━ based on Michael’s months of experience ━ did not bode well at all. A manicured hand grabbed the infamous garbage and waved it gently in front of his eyes. 

"Have fans ever asked you to sign their chest?"

Michael blinked. Had he... Had he heard correctly?

"I'm sorry ━ what?"

"Their chest," she repeated. "You know ━ breasts," she ran a hand over her own, as if to illustrate her point. 

His eyes followed her movement despite himself. The red of her nail polish contrasted perfectly with the black satin top she was wearing, the lace of her bra visible against her skin. His gaze returned to her amused face. 

"Why are you..." Michael let out a breathy laugh, suddenly feeling shy. "Oh, no! No, that never happened, why are you asking me this━"

"Mm," she nodded slowly. "Interesting."

"What's interesting, what does that mean━" he stopped, looked at the magazine, suspicion dawning. "... What is this about?"

"What is what about, my love?"

"That magazine."

She let out a laugh before leaning forward slightly. Her hands glided up her body, two fingers brushing aside a strand of hair that was about to obstruct his view, before coming to rest on her cleavage. She slowly slid it down, the satin cascading over her bare skin before fully revealing the lace of her bra.

"Can I have an autograph, Mr. Jackson?" she asked sweetly, as a fan would, but those words in her own mouth sounded sinful.

He stayed staring, his mouth opening and closing every second. The room was quiet and she was looking at him with those beautiful eyes, pleading with him to do as she had asked, while he sat there with his brain completely useless.

For a simple April evening, the air was extremely warm, Michael thought suddenly.

"I━" he stopped, then tried again. "That’s not even how they call me━" she raised an eyebrow. "You're insane..." he murmured, pressing his hand over his face, palm flat against his own forehead.

"So... Is that a no?" she pouted.

Michael made a sound and dropped his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he chuckled ━ and that reaction seemed to delight her even further.

"You are so━"

"Come on, baby━"

"Stop it!" he grabbed a pillow, putting it over her face.

"Please, baby! I even have the marker ready!" she admitted, removing the pillow from her.

"You have what now?"

Her eyes told him where to look at. His gaze dropped before he could stop it ━ there it was ━ nestled against the lace, the black marker sitting there like it had always belonged. How did he have missed it?

Michael looked away... looked back... looked away again.

She reached for the marker and took it out, holding it between two fingers.

"Okay so..." she started pointing at a specific place on her left breast. "Right here ple━"

"I don't need━there's no━please stop pointing━"

"Now that I think about it ━ your signature is quite long... perhaps I should━" she made a movement to remove her bra.

"Oh my God."

"Stop acting like you never saw me naked before, Michael! You’re ruining the mood!"

"That is completely different and you know it!"

"Do I?"

"Yes!" he threw his head back briefly, the laugh escaping before he could stop it. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," Michael repeated, shaking his head, but the corner of his mouth told a different story.

Biting her lips, and without breaking eye contact, she brought both hands up slowly and pressed them together against her chest. She raised an eyebrow.

Michael’s jaw clenched.

"You’re… you’re cheating."

"So... Will you please give me an autograph?" she pouted sweetly.

"You've been━" he let out another laugh. "Give me that."

Michael reached over and plucked the marker from her fingers before she could react, holding it away from her for a moment just to have the upper hand for one single second. She beamed at him as he uncapped it.

"Stay still."

She did as she was told as her boyfriend bent over her with such a focused expression that she had to look at the ceiling immediately to not laugh. His tongue appeared between his teeth, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was actually painting a work of art over her. The cold tip of the marker over her breast made her shiver and her eyes fell back right on his face, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"… Couldn’t have asked for an autograph on a paper like everyone else," he mumbled.

"Where’s the fun in that?"

A second later, Michael sat back and capped the marker as she looked down and smiled brightly.

"That’s so hot!" she beamed, genuinely delighted. "Okay I need a picture."

"You need a what?"

"Picture. For proof," she repeated like it was obvious as she stood up.

"Proof…?"

"That I was the first ━ keep up, baby!" she exclaimed, searching for the Polaroid.

"There is no━hey, come back here!"

Michael caught her by the wrist, pulling her back as she landed against him, laughing. He joined her as her back settled against his chest. She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his jaw.

"Want to do something else for me?"

"Haven’t you embarrassed me enough, woman?"

She chuckled once more before turning to face him, both hands pressing lightly against his chest, pushing him back until he sat down on the couch.

"I still want a picture though…" she spoke, her fingers found the hem of her top. "Perhaps you could help me take one."

She pulled it over her head in one slow, easy motion and tossed it gently at his face. She smelled of something sweet and when Michael looked up at her ━ at his own autograph ━ his tongue dragged slowly across his bottom lip before catching it between his teeth.