S

“Should I put something on? D’you have any requests?” he asked after a moment of quiet, finally looking you in the eyes. His rapid blinking unintentionally caused his eyelashes to flutter, and you bit back a smile at the sight.

“You pick. I trust you to set the mood,” you replied flirtatiously, silently reveling in the way that response seemed to make his brain short-circuit. 

Truthfully, the last thing you were thinking about was what record you wanted to listen to. It was awful, the way you had to turn around, pretend like the trinkets scattered throughout his room were the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen; the way you had to try to distract yourself from thinking about what Michael would taste like, what sounds he would make…

No, you weren’t going to do this. He invited you over for a nice dinner with his family, nothing more. 

After having been together officially for two months, you quickly discovered that Michael just wasn’t that kind of guy. Your dates–though always a good time–ended in a quick kiss on the cheek, or sometimes a peck on the lips, but nothing more. He was a gentleman, too much of one. Hand holding and hugging was fine for now, but gosh, a girl has needs.

John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme began to play, volume low enough to hear the soft hum of the vinyl spinning. The music took a layer of tension from the air, causing Michael to loosen up slightly.

He scratched his head as he talked, t-shirt lifting just enough to see the bare skin above his waistband. “Dinner should be done in about an hour. We could see what my brothers are doing, or go find some of the animals or– baby, what you doin’ with these still on?”

Michael grabbed your hand and gently led you over to his bed, urging you to sit down. Once sat, he crouched down at your feet and started to undo the straps of your heels.

“Michael,” you cooed. “You don’t have to do that. It’s fine, really.”

“Come on, I want you to be comfortable.”

After taking both shoes off and placing them neatly next to one another, he didn’t jump away like you were expecting him to. Instead, he continued the conversation from right there, fingers tracing delicate circles on the bumps of your ankles.

“So,” he continued, looking up at you with earnest eyes and a slight smile, “what sounds good to you?”

“Mikey,” you breathed out, rubbing your pedicured foot along his thigh. “Come up here.”

Still looking at you, he slowly set your feet on the ground and sat next to you, body completely turned your way. 

You whispered because it felt like if you spoke any louder the moment would shatter. “I don’t wanna do any of that. I, well…” you averted eye contact, feigning coyness for what you were about to say (but really, you couldn’t wait to make your move).

“What do you want, baby?” He took your hand in his and stroked his thumb across your knuckles.

“I wanna do this.”

You placed a hand on the side of his face, caressing it softly as you leaned in closer. You didn’t kiss him just yet. You wanted to take him in: the flush on his cheeks deeper than ever, his breathing shallow, his glowing skin in the dim, warm lighting.

And then you were kissing him. His lips immediately gave way to yours, opening and closing with the rhythm you had set. The smell of his cologne invaded your nostrils, fragrant as ever, encouraging you to kiss deeper, to let your hands roam.

Michael made a soft, surprised sound against your mouth, and his hand came up to rest hesitantly on your waist, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold on tighter. You smiled into the kiss and slid your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. That earned you another quiet noise from him, and the sound went straight through you.

Suddenly, he pulled back just enough for your lips to lose contact, but for the two of you to still be sharing the same breaths. His eyes were half-lidded, and his lips were already swollen and shining. The flush on his cheeks had spread down his neck.

“Baby,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I– I don’t really know… I mean, what if I’m bad? Don’t want to disappoint you...”

“I know,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “That’s okay. Let me show you.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, coaxing his mouth open with your tongue. When you licked into his mouth he shivered hard, his grip on your waist finally tightening. You rewarded him by swinging one leg over his lap, straddling him carefully. The new position allowed you to feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against yours and his fully hard erection pressing through his jeans.

Michael’s hands hovered at your hips, like if he touched them he’d immediately be reprimanded. You took one of them and guided it under the hem of your skirt, placing his palm flat against the warm skin of your thigh. 

“Touch me,” you whispered against his lips. “I want you to.” He exhaled shakily and let his hand explore higher, fingertips tracing the edge of your panties with reverent hesitation. You rocked gently against his lap, feeling him twitch through his jeans, and he broke the kiss with a quiet gasp, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Baby, you feel–” 

You kissed the side of his neck, then gently sucked on the spot just below his ear. Michael’s hips jerked up instinctively–the perfect friction for your growing arousal–and a low, broken sound escaped from his lips. His other hand slid up your back, fingers splaying across your spine, as if an attempt to hold onto something solid.

“It feels so good,” he whimpered before reconnecting your lips with his.

The kiss grew messier, more desperate. Michael was trying to match your rhythm, but his movements became uncoordinated and shaky. You kept rocking slowly against him, grinding down in a steady rhythm that caused that familiar heat to coil tighter low in your belly. 

His breathing was ragged now, little broken sounds spilling into your mouth with every exhale. The hand under your skirt gripped your thigh tighter, while the other pressed firmly against your back, pulling you closer. He was trembling beneath you.

“Michael…” you breathed his name like a praise, sucking lightly on his bottom lip.

He moaned helplessly, his hips stuttering up to meet yours. The friction was clearly overwhelming him. His fingers dug into your thigh almost too hard, and suddenly his whole body tensed. 

“W-wait, I–” his voice cracked.

Michael let out a choked groan as his hips jerked up sharply once, twice, then stilled. You felt the rhythmic pulses of his cock twitching hard against you through his jeans, the sudden wet heat spreading beneath the fabric as he came from the pressure of your body.

His face dropped straight into the crook of your neck, mortified. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled and thick with embarrassment. You could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “I didn’t– I couldn’t hold it. You’re so pretty and–”

You gently shushed him, threading your fingers through his curls and holding him close. Your other hand rubbed soothing circles on his back as his breathing slowly evened out.

“Look at me,” you coaxed softly.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were glassy and shy. You kissed him tenderly before pulling back with a small, warm smile.

“That was really hot, Michael,” you said gently, but matter-of-factly, brushing a thumb across his flushed cheek. “And don’t worry, it’s just the beginning.”

He let out a shaky breath, still half hidden against your neck. “You’re not mad?” You laughed softly and kissed the top of his head. “Baby, I love how much you want me. Now I get to show you how to make me feel good, too.”

You shifted back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in both hands. His eyes were wide and uncertain, but the hunger was definitely still there, simmering beneath the embarrassment. You took the hand that was gripping your thigh and slowly guided it higher, until his finger brushed over the damp fabric of your panties.

“Do you feel that?” you murmured against his lips. “That’s what you did to me.”

He exhaled sharply, fingertips trembling as they traced the soaked cotton. You rocked gently into his touch, encouraging him.

“Take them off for me,” you pleaded gently.

Michael nodded quickly, hooking his fingers under the waistband. You moved your legs so he could slide your panties down your thighs. Once they were off, you settled back onto his lap and took his hand again, bringing it between your legs. 

“Start slow,” you coached tentatively, pressing his fingers against your slick folds. “Feel me? Up and down like this.”

He followed your lead, his touch too light to really be doing anything for you, but the way his breath hitched when he felt how warm and wet you were made heat flare in your belly. You guided his middle finger to your entrance, letting it circle there.

“One finger first. Curl it a little…” Michael slid his finger in slowly, and the soft, surprised sound he made mirrored your own quiet moan. It went deeper than you expected. He was watching your face intently, learning every reaction. You moved your hips in small circles, chasing every bit of pleasure.

“Add another,” you told him, voice growing breathier. “And use your thumb here–” you guided his thumb to your clit, pressing it in gentle, steady circles.

“Like this?” he asked, voice hoarse. He curled his two fingers just right, stroking that sensitive spot inside you while his thumb worked your clit in the rhythm you’d shown him.  His free hand now gripped your hip, steadying you as you started to ride his fingers.

“Keep going,” you encouraged, grinding down onto his fingers. “You’re doing so good, baby.” He whimpered at the praise, pumping his fingers faster, thumb circling with more confidence. Your thighs started to tremble. You kissed him hard, tongues sliding together as the pressure built and finally broke over you in a warm, shuddering orgasm. You clenched around his fingers, moaning his name into your mouth.

When you came down, you kissed him softly, still rocking against his hand. His cock was fully hard again, straining against the wet spot on his jeans. 

“Wow,” he whispered, smiling. “That was… wow. You’re amazing, mama.”

You laughed breathlessly and cupped his flushed face.  “You did amazing. Now I want to feel you inside me.” You slid off his lap, lying back on the bed and pulling him with you. “Come here, baby. On top.”

Michael moved hesitantly, settling between your spread thighs. You helped him push his jeans and underwear further down his hips, his big, leaking cock springing free. You basically salivated at the sight.

He blushed at his manhood being on full display and carefully avoided looking into your eyes. His head hung low, staring at himself.

“Mikey? What’s wrong?”

A moment. “Do you have, uhm, a condom?”

“I’m on the pill. It’s okay, baby.”

“Ah. I just–” he started, choking on his words. “I’m nervous.”

“I want you so bad, Michael,” you begged, hoping to boost his ego a bit. “Take your shirt off. I want to see you.”

A glimmer of something–confidence, maybe?–filled his eyes before he took his shirt off with one hand, revealing his gorgeous toned and shining body. You could only think about how beautiful he was as he shyly leaned down to peck you on the lips.

You helped guide him to your hole, his tip resting slightly on your folds. Just that small point of contact was enough to send electric waves throughout your body.

“Go slow,” you reminded him, one hand on his hip, the other on the back of his neck. “Push in when you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours as he pressed forward. The thick head of his cock stretched you open, sinking in inch by inch. Michael’s mouth fell open in a silent moan, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.

“Oh my god…” he breathed, voice beautifully wrecked. “You’re squeezing me so tight. It feels– god, baby…”

When he bottomed out, hips flush against yours, he paused, buried to the hilt. You could feel every throb and twitch of his cock deep inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, and kissed him tenderly.

Trying to mask how bad your voice trembled, how bad you needed this, you said, “Come on, Michael. I’ve got you.”

His first thrust was careful and shallow, a test. The second was deeper, smoother, drawing a low groan from his throat as your pussy enveloped him completely. Soon he found a steady rhythm: long, rolling strokes that were slow enough to drive you crazy but deep enough to satisfy you. The rhythmic sound of his cock sliding in and out of you filled the room, mixed with his ragged breathing and your soft moans.

“So good–,” you gasped, nails lightly dragging down his back. “You feel so, so good–”

Michael whimpered at your words, his pace quickening. He braced himself on his forearms, caging you in as he fucked you harder. A few small coils stuck to his hairline, sweat glistening on his skin. One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, spreading you wider so he could sink even deeper.

Every thrust dragged perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you. You reached between your bodies and rubbed your clit, the added stimulation making your moans louder. Michael’s eyes flicked down to watch where you were joined, mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing into you again and again.

“I can’t–,” he panted, voice strained. “‘M gonna–”

You urged, tightening your legs around him, “Come for me.”

That pushed him over the edge. With a broken cry he thrust deep and came hard, cock pulsing as he spilled inside you in thick, hot waves. The feeling of him coming so intensely sent you tumbling after him, your second orgasm crashing over you way stronger than the first, milking him for every drop.

Michael collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you, his face buried in your neck as he panted through the aftershocks. Your fingers traced up his back and his coils, holding him close while his cock continued to twitch inside you.

After a long moment he lifted his head, eyes soft and adoring. “Was I good… for you?”

You smiled and kissed him gently. “You were perfect.”

He pulled out of you and flopped down by your side, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief and pleasure. “Should probably change my pants before we go down, huh?”

“You mean you don’t want your family to know that you came in your jeans?” You joked, giving him a loving peck on the cheek.

A big grin filled his face. “Hey! Come on, it just felt so....” he trailed off, burying his face into the mattress out of shyness.

“And to think, there’s so much more I have to show you.”

Thankfully nobody could tell where his eyes lingered because of his dark sunglasses, but everybody had noticed how significantly distracted he was today. 

Quincy cleared his throat. “Michael, just… whenever you’re ready.”

Michael shook his head slightly, as if to will away a thought. In a low voice, he muttered, “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

You tilted your head slightly. Michael was always on his game and you knew that, even if this was your first time watching him in the studio. Thriller was almost complete and you figured that he might like some encouragement for the home stretch, so you came with him for today’s session.

You wondered if he was upset about something from the way his jaw kept clenching, but you really couldn’t tell because of his shades. Maybe he was always like this when he was working? No, that didn’t seem right…

As he started to sing, though, all of your worries vanished, and you could only think about one thing.

You loved him when he sang. The way he got lost in it. The way his hands clenched around his headphones, accentuating the veins in his hands and arms. The way when, if he had been singing long enough, a sheen of sweat coated his skin and gave him a slight glow, like an angel. Luckily for you, this was one of those times. God, this was torture. You wished you could just go in there and let him have his way with–

Quincy’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Alright. Michael, let’s give you a break and go for lunch.”

“Quincy, I can keep going.” He spoke with a frown, and his voice sounded slightly wrecked, carried a note of desperation. You raised an eyebrow. Okay, something was up. 

“No negotiations, you need a prime vocal performance for Thriller. Don’t sweat it, man. We got time.”

Defeated, Michael took his headphones off and made his way out of the recording booth. The sound engineers started talking quietly about where to go for lunch as you stepped out to meet him. 

“Michael, baby, you did great,” you cooed as you pulled him in for a hug. He smelt delicious, like his signature cologne mixed with his natural musk. His hands settled respectfully on your lower back, causing something low in your stomach to heat up despite wishing his hands were lower. Always a gentlemen, Michael.

He had a real cool smile on his face that morphed into a giddy grin when he heard the compliment. Faces inches apart, you could see a slight blush painted on his cheeks. 

His voice was featherlight, but oddly low. “Come on, it wasn’t that great. I mean, we had to keep redoing the same part over and over ‘cause I was so out of it…” 

“Still,” you whisper-spoke, your hand rubbing slight circles in the nape of his neck. “You sounded amazing.”

For a second, there was a look in his eyes that seemed vaguely familiar to you. Like he was hungry. Just as he was about to lean in for a kiss, people came piling out of the control room. Michael, being as shy as he was, jumped away slightly and opted for just holding your hand in front of the crowd. You silently cursed the interruption.

Quincy came out, laughing about something before telling the two of you, “We all goin’ over to Sal’s for lunch. Y’all comin’?”

“What do you think, baby?” You asked softly. “You been real working hard–”

“No, I think we’re good, Quince. We’ll just, uh, chill here for a bit.” Michael’s voice was the epitome of forced casualness.

Quincy started down the hall. “Suit yourselves. And I mean it Michael, let that voice rest,” he called over his shoulder, leaving with a friendly wave.

The moment the hallway was cleared out, you turned to Michael and asked all concerned-like, “Somethin’ wrong? I thought you might want to eat?”

You noticed he was breathing real deep, like he was breathless but trying to hide it. You really couldn’t get a read on him, so you moved his sunglasses to rest on his head, sweeping his hair back slightly and leaving you to look at his eyes. His gaze was jumping all over, to your eyes, your lips, your neck, and down…

“Baby…” he sighed dreamily before closing the space between you, eliciting a startled sound from your mouth. 

His lips moved deeply and desperately. Usually your makeouts didn’t start out this way; they always started slow and soft and morphed into something needier, but you weren’t complaining. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t daydreaming about this all day. 

Despite the shock, your body melted into the kiss and your hands searched for something to hold onto so you wouldn’t collapse into the earth. You grasped at Michael’s hair, tugging slightly. He whimpered slightly into your mouth at the sensation, and gently pushed you against the wall.

Pressed up against you like this, Michael’s hard-on was pleasingly rutted against your inner thigh. When you thought you couldn’t get any wetter, you were suddenly soaked. 

Michael found a rhythm with his hips easily, of course. He moved in slow but deep movements against you. His hands found the plushness of your ass and kneaded it gently with his big hands. He let out the most beautiful noises, moaning and breathing shakily against the area just below your jaw. He was touching all the right places, leaving the heat in your stomach to increase steadily. 

“Mikey…” you gasped out, holding his head against your jaw. “What’s–” you giggled. “What’s all this about?”

The man against you was a wreck, with sweat dripping down his neck and the veins in his arms more prominent than ever. He humped against you like it was solving world hunger.

He kissed up your jaw a bit until his mouth found your ear. His breath ghosted softly against it, sending a chill down your spine and causing you to jerk your hips into him slightly.

“When I was recording,” he muttered shakily, “I couldn’t–God, I couldn’t stop staring at you, and your pretty legs, imagining what you would look like under me while you’re wearin’ that pretty skirt…”

Holy fuck. You didn’t even know how to respond. Instead, you kissed him fervently, drinking up every little noise he let into your mouth and exhaling it right back into his.

You could have stayed there forever. Humping each other in the hallway, desperate, depraved, panting. Your dry humping became anything but dry. The air around you was filled up with the heat radiating from your bodies and the sounds that escaped your lips. 

Begrudgingly, Michael pulled away from you (not without a whimper of protest), took your hand, and led you inside the control room. The door clicked shut behind him. He pushed you up against the controls and you giggled softly, looking deep into his sweet eyes. 

“We gonna do this on the controls? Really?” 

He bit his lip and smiled, his adams apple bobbing as he looked down at you. He adjusted his erection slightly in his pants, and you gulped. 

“You got a better place, baby?”

Well shit, he’s got a point. 

He leaned down to kiss you some more, his hands traveling to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to reveal a cute lacy bra underneath. His mouth began to make its way down the center of your body as his hands grasped at your breasts. He kissed your neck, your chest, down your abdomen and onto the sweet, sweet spot just above your skirt and just below your belly button. You sighed and threw your head back, pleasure overtaking you. You looked back down to take in the lovely sight before you: Michael, kneeled before you and gazing at you like he was praying to a goddess. One curl fell loose from its carefully styled spot and dangled on his forehead. 

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed dreamily against your lower stomach. “Beautiful, beautiful.”

He flipped your skirt up and went right to kissing your inner thigh.

“Oh my–Michael…” This was driving you crazy. His breath against your pussy was just enough to rile you up but not near enough for you to be satisfied. He always took his time down there, kissing and sucking and and looking up at you–

“Mikey, please, come on baby…” you pleaded, not able to handle it anymore.

He smiled, trying to look all cute, but you could tell he secretly loved how much he was teasing you. 

“Okay, okay.”

Ever so gently, he pulled your damp lacy panties down until they were wrapped around your ankles, just above your baby blue flats. He hooked his arms around your thighs and lifted your legs so that they were dangling off his shoulders. Then, in one tantalizing sweep, he licked from bottom to top, and you swear you saw the gates of heaven.

You leaned back, gasping at the ceiling as your hips bucked into his mouth and one hand grasped at his hair. His tongue worked wonders on your clit, the perfect amount of pressure and movement. He licked up and down your folds while he massaged your thighs. Electricity coursed all throughout your body. He ate you out like you were his last meal; his tongue curling hungrily, gasping, his nose nuzzling your clit. His hips thrusted, desperately looking for friction in his jeans but to no avail.

“Ba–baby,” you choked out, at a complete loss for words. You could feel him smiling smugly against you as he worked, pleased with himself for getting you to this state. 

The warmth in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, but you knew it wasn’t going to be enough. “Need more, Mike. C'mon.”

Michael kissed your pussy before pulling off. His chin was extra shiny from spit. “Patience, baby.”

His hand traveled to your hole and he pushed one finger inside slowly, curling to hit that spot that made your back arch and your eyebrows furrow together. He worked it slow, fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you. You whined, and he knew to add another finger. It was pure bliss. He kissed your legs sweetly as he fingered you, looked at you with love and desperation. He was in absolute awe at the woman before him.

“‘S not enough, Mikey. Please. I need you.”

Michael’s face changed when you said that. His erection was pressed against his jeans and begging for some attention. He slid his fingers out of you gently and immediately went to unbuckling his belt while he looked at you, took in your body splayed before him, your legs spread. A perfect writhing mess, just for him. He slid your panties off completely from around your ankles and put your legs over his shoulders.

“You have no idea,” he groaned, his voice a sexy bass, “how bad I’ve wanted to do this.”

You bit your lip at his words and watched as he pulled his pants and underwear down to his midthigh, unveiling his leaking cock. From the way it was twitching and wet with precum, it seemed like he was on the verge of finishing just from fingering and eating you out.

He pumped it a few times then positioned himself at your entrance, looking down in concentration. The anticipation was too much–it was pathetic, almost, how just his tip brushing against your opening made you sigh shakily–and just when you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust, he pushed inside of you with a smooth thrust. You basically screamed.

His strokes were perfect, deep, smooth, with a delicious rhythm. Your jaw dropped open, unable to make a sound, and then he, too, was a moaning, whining mess. You fell back onto the control panel, knobs and sliders digging into your back, but not enough to take away from the feeling of Michael going in and out of you while he whimpered praise.

“Mmh, you feel perfect baby, you’re so beautiful and good and perfect,” he moaned, more beads of sweat now trickling down his neck. 

“Holy– shi– shit,” you stammered out. From this angle, his dick was hitting your g-spot perfectly each time. His tip grazed deep, deep inside of you. Fuck. You felt your orgasm quickly approaching.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleaded, breathless as he leaned down to plant quick kisses on your jaw. “You can take it, c’mon. You got it.”

You felt his rhythm slowly pick up, along with his moans. He was muttering strings of sweet nothings under his breath. Your name was on his lips like he was begging a god for forgiveness.

He quickly swept his shirt up, biting the hem to keep there as his thrusts got more and more desperate. His toned core was shining with sweat, the light wobbling on his body as he kept his hips moving. He threw his head back and started moaning, the sweetest music you’ve ever heard, and that sent you off the rails.

“Mikey, ‘m gonna–’m gonna–” your legs wrapped around his hips tighter and you felt every bit of tension in your stomach dissipate with a loud moan. Your fingers looked for anything to grasp onto but only found volume knobs. Your back arched for a second before you collapsed, your shaky arms not sufficient enough to hold you up. Your legs fell from around Michael’s waist.

At the same time, Michael finished, the warmth of his cum pumping deep inside you, overwhelming your senses and heightening your orgasm. He fell on top of you, gasping and panting pleasantly in your ear like he just ran a marathon.

The two of you stayed like that for a minute, Michael riding out the aftershocks and pumping his cum deeper into you. You traded breaths as you both tried to level out and come down from that absolute high. He planted a kiss on your cheek before he pulled out of you and started doing up his pants. 

“Way to preserve your voice,” you joked, causing Michael to cover his face in embarrassment as he shook with laughter.

“Baby, oh my gosh,” he chuckled as you stood up to put on your underwear. “You’re walking like a cowboy or something.” You started laughing uncontrollably with him. “Did we seriously just have sex in the control room?”

He blushed slightly and rubbed his neck. “Oh god, yeah, we did. Sorry. That was real dirty of me, wasn’t it?”

You walked over and planted a soft kiss on his lips, touching his chest warmly. You whispered in his ear, “I should visit you in your sessions more often.”

…

When Quincy and the crew got back, you and Michael tried your best to seem like totally normal upstanding citizens. You were sitting in the control room chairs with your legs crossed casually (although, it was a little stiff considering you could feel a certain someone’s cum leaking out of you), and Michael was sporting his sunglasses again.

Quincy sat down in his chair with a satisfied groan as the other workers piled into their respective seats. “Y’all missed out. What’d y’all even do here, anyway? Talk?” 

Michael coughed. You giggled. 

“Yeah, something was, uh, weighing on my mind. I got a clear head now. Ready to record," Michael explained.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Yo,” an engineer blurted out. “Who was messing with the equalization? Matter of fact, all this crap over here’s messed up…”

You and Michael shared a look and tried not to giggle.

a/n: woohoo! thank you for sticking it out to the end.