myhobari.

It wasn’t even noticeable at first. Well, not really, until you connected every small instance like one huge puzzle. A particularly suggestive flutter of his eyelashes, a nearly crimson blush on his cheeks whenever you praised him for anything. Then, there was that one time when you called yourself ‘mommy’ as a joke.

You’d just arrived home from your 4-month anniversary dinner date. Your feet were aching; clad in a pair of deep red 8-inch pumps that Michael practically begged you to wear. “I think it’s sexy that you’re taller than me in those heels. Your legs look extra long and beautiful. Please m-, baby? Please, wear them.” That just about undid you.

You’d started regretting letting him sway you like that, though, because you swore that with every step, you could feel a new callous forming on your pinky toe.

“Come help mommy take these things off, baby.” It was said so casually, because it was. Yet, his reaction had you thinking you’d said something offensive. He’d just finished taking off his own loafers, one knee on the floor. He nearly toppled all the way over, and he looked up at you with this almost pained expression. You could’ve sworn you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so direct. It’s probably the wine…I’ll take them off mys–” He’d waved off your thought with his left hand, cleared his throat, and mumbled something along the lines of “…seriously driving me insane” under his breath, but it sounded lighthearted enough for you not to question him further. The two of you had your best sex yet that night.

Last week, though? It got to a point where Michael damn near made you lose your mind. You put on a pair of jeans that were slightly too long, and you didn’t have time to get them hemmed, so you asked your boyfriend to cuff the bottoms for you, playfully pretending to press your stiletto onto his chest while he knelt down.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded earnestly. He looked up at you while he said it, eyes glazed over with sparkles and something else you couldn’t quite place. There was a faint, crooked smile playing on his lips. One that read: I’m right where I want to be. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head like he was in the presence of royalty, then continued on with the task.

Really, it was a very quick exchange. Almost even casual; you just so happened to remember every aspect of it because it ruined you and your panties for the next two days.

That’s what’d been on your mind all afternoon. The two of you decided to spend your 6-month anniversary at a beachfront resort. Michael rented the whole thing out nearly two months in advance, your display of subtle dominance on your 4-month anniversary influencing the idea. He had a plan, and all he needed to do was gather up the confidence to act upon it.

You two took a series of photos on the digital camera he gifted you, involving various activities; a photo of you eating the breakfast he cooked the two of you in your suite’s kitchen, one of him almost missing his step on the jetski he was gonna race you on…One of you towering above him as he adjusted the delicate golden anklet he gave you the day prior, the cursive M glinting in the sunlight. He coughed hysterically to cover up the sound of its shudder, internally chastising himself for forgetting to turn off the sound in its settings.

When you two got home, he seemed overly eager about the evening, his attitude rubbing off on you. The both of you were a giggling mess, and you were completely sober. Just high off of the presence of the other.

The two of you had dinner reservations at 6:30pm, so you decided to shower together to ‘save water’ and time. Michael basically did the showering for the both of you though, making sure to do every step like you would. You’ve showered together enough for him to know your whole routine, and it made your heart swell with warmth, and your thighs unnoticeably squeeze together with want. He even rinsed and dried the both of you, making sure you didn’t lift your pretty fingers to do anything but grip onto his shoulders for balance.

It made you insatiable.

While you put on the finishing touches of your makeup, Michael approached you with a pleading look settled onto his face.

“Does this shirt look weird untucked? Should I button it up some more?”

You turned around, your unset makeup almost plastering onto his black button up. He looked delicious. Your mouth actually got watery at the sight right in front of you. You gulped down your lust, and met his eyes.

“Michael, you look beautiful. Leave it untucked and unbuttoned just like that. Wow.”

He ducked his head slightly, a faint blush crawling up his neck, as he let out a nervous chuckle. For a man so gorgeous, you’d think he’d be used to compliments from his own girlfriend by now.

“Y-you sure? Tonight’s important. I wanna look like we belong together. Like I belong with you.”

It took everything in you not to ruin your dinner plans and prove it to him right there, your hands fighting the urge to push him onto the bed and show him just how pretty you thought he was.

You cleared your throat and answered with a joking, “Michael, I’d swear you have a praise kink or something, because there’s no way you don’t see just how tasty you look right now.”

You turned back to the mirror, powdering up your face and putting on the remainder of your lip combo.

You didn’t notice just how badly Michael was holding it together from that point forward.

The two of you played the rest of the night cool, though. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for Michael fighting off his neediness when you ordered for him because you noticed him get shy, and when you wiped enchilada sauce off of his face, calling him your ‘clumsy baby.’ Or, the instance where you almost dragged him to the bathroom when you asked if he wanted dessert, and looked at you all lovesick with a, “Yes, please.”

He aggressively adjusted his black jeans, not so subtly, after you told him to pick up the napkin he (purposely) dropped. He felt like he was drunk. His nerves and his body were on fire. He started to down the bottle of wine he purchased for the two of you, for liquid courage. You quickly followed suit. It did nothing to help either of your states.

On the walk back to your suite, Michael’s demeanor nearly killed your buzz. He looked terrified.

“Mikey, baby. What’s wrong?” you asked, stepping in front of him and tilting his head up by his chin so he’d look you in your eyes. The heels you wore had you standing taller than him, and, unbeknownst to you, that only made it worse.

“It’s nothin, baby.” he responded, but his voice wasn’t matching his actions.

“Michael, come on, it’s me. What’s going o-”

“I said it’s nothin’,” he cut you off sharply. His voice was loud- too loud- and he wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He grabbed ahold of the hand that you had underneath his chin, and rushed the two of you the rest of the way to the hotel.

You were furious. Concerned by his terror-stricken face, mostly. But, his sharpness with you stirred something inside that you thought you’d buried, only fueled by the ache in your feet from nearly running in stilettos.

As you made it to your room, you pushed past his usually taller frame, and sat down onto the nearest plush chair, bending over to undo the straps of your pumps. You heard the door close with a click and looked up to see Michael rushing his way towards you, trying to stop you from removing them yourself. The two of you had your hands tangled in a mess; his fingers trying to gently push yours off, and yours almost aggressively shoving his.

“Enough, Michael.”

He gulped loudly, seeming almost embarrassed to look at you.

That was almost enough to ease the fire on your lips. Almost.

“Look at me while I’m speaking to you. What happened, and why are you acting so weird towards me?” Your voice quivered on the latter half of your question, insecurity starting to creep its way through your tone. Your cleared your throat and waited for him to speak.

He sighed visibly at the beginning of your monologue. The words affecting him in a way you couldn’t understand.

He continued removing your shoes as he answered, needing something to keep his eyes away from yours, due to the vulnerable truth behind his actions.

“I…” he cleared his throat. “I want you to control me.”

That was not what you were expecting. You waited, scared that you’d misinterpreted the intentions behind his words, hoping he’d expand on it further. By this point, both of your shoes were off, and he was still kneeling in front of your legs, both of his hands opting to massage on one of your aching feet. He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Mike…?” you asked. Your voice slightly deepened with a lust you were fighting so hard to control. You ran your fingers through his hair softly, eliciting a soft whine from his throat. You used the hand in his hair to gently guide his face up to yours. He obeyed your silent command as soon as you slightly tugged, actions already proving that he meant what you thought he did. Your stomach did a flip. The alcohol in your system was making you extremely sensitive to your emotions, everything heightened. Apparently, Michael was going through the same.

“I-I mean. Well look at you…Your legs are so long, ‘n you take care of me so good. You’re so good at telling people what to do and I always wish it was me on the other end of that. I- I think about you doing things to me. Things that I can’t control. I sometimes try ‘n push your buttons just so you can finally snap at me, but you’re so patient, even though your energy is kinda scary, and that somehow drives me even crazier.” The alcohol had him saying quite literally every word that came into his brain. He’d managed to fully massage all the tension from your feet during the rambling. He gave them each a quick peck and set them down gently onto the plush carpet beneath you. Then he sat up on his knees, properly. Both of his hands were placed on his lap like he was preparing for prayer.

“Please, baby. I can’t take it anymore. I want you to use me and control me and take everything I have. I want you to be mean to me and I want you to punish me for being rude earlier. Put me in my place, please. Please, pleasepleaseplease. It’s embarrassing, but I really do want this.” He added the last part after he noticed you weren’t responding, embarrassment and alcohol settling into his bones. He started sniffling, his eyes rimming with tears.

You didn’t say a word. Silently, you stood up, gripping Michael by the collar, dragging his frame up with yours, and then crashed your lips into his. He whimpered loudly. The sound shred the last bit of sanity you had left. The two of you tumbled through the doors that led to your room, his socks being kicked off and your shawl strewn onto the floor on the way there.

You turned him around and shoved him onto the bed forcefully. Michael looked up at you like you held the universe up just for him. Your hands made their way to his shirt first. The opened buttons were driving you crazy all day. You started unbuttoning, but grew impatient, opting to just aggressively pull them apart instead, buttons popping off and flying onto the floor in the act.

Michael was a whimpering mess beneath you, and you hadn’t even touched him properly. His hands were at his sides and his body was rigid. He hadn’t even tried touching you.

“Mikey, baby. You know you can touch me, right?”

“I just wanted your permission first ma- ahem. Baby.”

“What was that?” you questioned, catching his slip-up.

“Nothin’,” Mike said, clearly embarrassed. He tried kissing you after to cover it up, but the alcohol in your system made you not care. You pushed his torso back down onto the bed.

“Don’t lie to me, Michael. I can stop all this right now,” you said sternly.

“I..Uhm. It’s just.. sometimes I kinda wanna call you..mommy…?” He phrased it like a question.

That’s how you ended up the position the two of you were in right now. Him with his head propped up on the spare pillows he requested earlier, and your body propped up on his face, straddling it. Michael was going dumb beneath you, fully letting your core and the alcohol in his veins consume him.

“Mmm, Mikey. I didn’t know you had this in you,” you say with surprise laced into your voice. And it’s true. The two of you had sex a few times, but he usually seemed okay with taking over for you. Only now did you realize that it was more of him servicing you than taking control.

“I’ve always had it in me, m- ah baby,” he says, slightly pushing his head further into the pillow so he can speak.

You grab one of his nipples and pinch it harshly.

“Did I say you could stop? Don’t think I forgot about your little attitude earlier.”

That only turns him on further though, his hips jutting into the air immediately at the rough contact.

“N-no. I’m sor- ah- sorry baby. You’re right. I’ve been s-so bad,” his voice melting into a needy whine on the last word.

“Yeah, so bad. I- mmm- s-should teach you a lesson, shouldn’t I?”

“P-please. Please do whatever you want to me. I’ll make it up to y…ou, mmm.”

In one swift movement, you climb off of his face, and settle your soaking core onto his bare chest. You take your right hand and place it onto his neck with no pressure- yet.

“How sorry are you?” you question, his fucked out face only fueling your actions.

“Really sorry. Sorrier than I can even put into words,” he jumbled out. Not good enough. You give him a slight slap on the face, and then grip onto his neck with more fervor. He moans like it’s his first time being touched sexually.

“That’s it? You’re sooo sorry you can’t even say it?” you scoff at him, playing up your anger just to see him fold beneath your grasp. You begin grinding down hard onto his chest, reveling in this.

“N-no! I mean, yes, b-but, fuck keep using me like that please. I just, I have to show you. Let me show you?” he says, still trying to work your pussy between each word.

“Hmm, go ahead then,” you respond almost immediately, intrigued by his request.

He tenderly grabs onto your thighs and lifts your body up off of his chest, and places you next to him, sliding from the bed in the same movement. Then, he eagerly walks to the foot of the bed and sinks onto his knees, beckoning you toward him with two of his fingers, his twinkling eyes never leaving yours.

“Join me, please?” he asks, voice laced with desire.

You seductively crawl toward him, his body looking meek in this position. You can feel your core drip more at the sight of him. He uncrosses your legs for you, making sure to do all of the work. He’s gonna prove to you just how sorry he is for not being a good boy.

He takes one of your legs and starts to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to every inch of it; from the tips of your toes, to the backs of your knees. His eyes never leave yours. He’s waiting for some sign of approval, a praise, anything that tells him he’s making up for it, but you sit there in shock, staring at the submissive man beneath you. You’re almost too scared to move, afraid that any action or sound will break the spell.

Then he starts to speak. “You’re so beautiful. Your body’s like a painting that only Michelangelo himself could’ve imagined. How could I have been so stupid? You deserve everything. I’m gonna give you everything,” he says between kisses.

“This?” he says, kissing your inner thigh, “I don’t even deserve it. I’m lucky to be able to touch you like this. Lucky ta even see you like this.”

He grabs onto your hips, and looks up at you, pleading.

“M gonna make you feel so good. I promise.”

Michael kisses up the soft skin of your stomach, making sure to save what’s beneath it for last. Then, he makes it to your breasts, and drool dribbles out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I don’t even deserve these,” he says, almost to himself with a sigh. He peppers kisses to the undersides of them, teasing his way up to your erect nipples. Then, he takes one into his mouth, suckling like a man starved. You nearly scream from pleasure at the contact, causing Michael to look up with worry, only for him to see your blissed expression. He grabs your other nipple and rolls it between his fingers, still holding eye contact with you.

“F-fuck Michael, that’s it baby. Just like that.”

He switches his ministrations to your next nipple, replacing his mouth with his hand, and his hand with his mouth. He starts whimpering louder and louder with each gasp you take, your arousal fueling his tenfold. You feel high. You try clamping your legs together, but his lanky body is blocking you from doing so, eliciting a whine from your lips. He notices this. He notices everything. He removes the hand from your nipple and immediately starts rubbing languid, deep circles on your clit. You let out a loud moan straight from your diaphragm, internally thanking Michael for renting the whole resort out for the two of you.

Michael’s lips detach from your tit with a pop. “You like this?” he questions genuinely, wanting to be good for you.

“Mike- fuck- yes! L-love it! So good!” You can barely even think properly, your mind only focused on how his long fingers work your clit with ease.

“Mmm,” he responds, not fully satisfied with himself. He doesn’t want you to love it. He wants you to crave it.

He gets up and straddles your waist, fingers still slowly rubbing your clit, searching your neck for its sweet spot with his lips. When you buck your core into his hand at a particular area, he starts licking and biting on it, hungrily inhaling the perfume on your neck in the process.

“You-ngh. You smell so sweet. Did you wear my favorite perfume for me?” he asks, a wave of gratitude crashing onto him.

“Y-yes Mike. Come on- more. I need more. Give me more.” You’re desperate now. You have half a mind not to start fucking yourself on his fingers right there, but he’s one step ahead.

His fingers slide straight into your pussy, and your walls clenched around them immediately, not expecting the intrusion so suddenly. Your back arches up off the bed, lifting both of you in the process.

“M sorry. I’m gonna get you there baby. I promise.” Without another word, he carefully slides back down your frame, and starts suckling at your clit like he’s tasting ice cream for the first time ever, his fingers still curling and pumping in and out of you. Your eyes start to water.

“Ohhhh my- fuuuuuck. Mikeyyy, baby mmm. S-shit. I feel sososo good. So good. You’re so good to me baby. My perfect- ah. My perfect angel. S-so pretty on your knees for me.” You smile at him weakly and squeeze his head in between your thighs forcefully, grinding yourself onto his mouth and nose. The dichotomy is giving him whiplash.

The praise that you give Michael is driving him halfway insane. He moans erotically into your squelching pussy, pumping his fingers into you faster and harsher, squeezing his thighs together for his own relief. The sight of you using him like this is making his brain go numb, the only thing on his mind is making up for his behavior earlier. Making sure you’re feeling good.

Your legs start to shake uncontrollably now, a telltale sign of your orgasm approaching.

This fuels Michael further.

“Please cum on my face. I wanna taste it, ma.”

You almost do it on the spot, but you have other plans. You lightly kick his face from between your legs and his mouth detaches from your pussy loudly. He looks at you confused, his face glistening with your arousal.

“I’m sorry. Did I do something wro-” You interrupt him by slamming your lips onto his, the force of it pushing his torso onto the floor. You moan at the taste of yourself on his mouth, your tongue searching for his in the process. You break the kiss and lean into his ear with a seductive whisper. “I want to fuck you, Michael.”

His entire body goes rigid and he gasps loudly. You palm him through his jeans, feeling his dick straining against the black fabric. He sucks in a sharp breath, wanting so desperately for more friction, while simultaneously wanting to show you he can be good.

“Ohhh, were you this hard all this time, baby?” you coo at him, loving how the condescending tone in your words feels.

“A-ah yes. I just wanted you to feel good,” he replies between choked breaths, seemingly trying not to pass out. He loves how dumb you’re making him feel.

“Aww my good boy, you did so well for me. I think it’s time for us to both feel good together, hmm?” you ask him, eager for his response. He looks so pretty like this, and his whimpers sound even prettier.

“O-only if that’s what you want. Ngh- everything’s your choice. Everything, everything,” he slurs out, already losing his grasp on reality due to the way you’re speaking to him and the way you rub hungrily against his clothed erection.

You unzip his jeans faster than he can even process and pulled them down off his legs along with his boxers, his leaking erection slapping against his abdomen harshly.

“Look at me,” you command him. He obeys without a second thought.

You take your pretty manicured hands and begin to jerk him off slowly, enjoying the way he tries not to grind up into your hands because he’s your good boy.

You speed up your actions faster, faster, faster, until you see Michael nearing his climax. He’s warning you over and over that he’s gonna cum, not wanting to before you do. Not after his behavior today. He didn’t deserve it, and you agree.

“Baby, pleeeeease, ‘m so close. Can’t do it. You have ta first. Iss too good ‘n i can’t hold it,” he whines, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You kiss them away and go faster, ignoring his cries. The tears only turned you on further.

“F-FUCK! BABY I’M GONN-” You stop moving your hand entirely, and squeeze down on his dick hard.

“Wh-wha..” Michael trails off, not knowing how to speak anymore.

“Thank you,” he says, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes, chest heaving. He knew better than to complain- you touching him at all was enough.

You lean up to give him a quick kiss, before lining his dick up with your entrance and sinking down onto it. The stretch was enough to make your legs shake and almost make you fall over. You can’t take it all at once, opting to go slowly, grinding yourself against it in the meantime.

“Oh my GOD,” Michael cries out, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look at you. You look like an answered prayer.

“Mikey, you’re too big,” you whine out, drawling the last word out on purpose.

“I’m sor-ry,” he sincerely apologizes. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on by his facial expression. You sink the rest of the way down, too impatient to care about the burn. You grip onto his neck for support and start riding him slowly, your thighs burning with pain and pleasure. Michael moans at the feeling of your delicate fingers around his neck again and he loses his filter completely.

“Please choke me again. Hard. Control when I can breathe,” he begs you. You do just that and start bouncing against his length, the begging and whimpering from your boyfriend turning you on more than you’ve ever been.

His eyes start to roll back, and you loosen your grip so that he can gasp for air, his lungs greedily swallowing the oxygen creeping in. He starts rolling his hips up into yours to help, knowing riding isn’t easy for women. Always the gentleman, even when you’re fucking his brains out. He looks into your eyes, grabs your free hand and starts sucking on your fingers, muffling his moans with them from embarrassment. You don’t know whether to be angry that he won’t let you hear them, or turned on from the sight, so you grind and choke him harder.

His eyes fog over and he drools onto his chest, arching his back up to meet all of your grinds. You loosen your grip once again.

“Let me hear your pretty voice, baby,” you drawl at him, removing your fingers from his mouth and using them to play with your nipple. That basically does it for him.

“Baaaaaaby. Oh my god I-I can’t even think. You’re s-so good to me and- YEAH keep touching yourself like that please. You’re so beauti-f-ful. I’m never letting you go. You’re t-too perfect iss driving me crazy. Plea-” you choke him again- “Mmmfuck. Please cum on me. Please use my body to cum.”

“Then fuck me like you want it, Mike,” you order, dragging your fingers down from his neck, using your nails to scratch all the way down to his chest.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He flips you over and pins you beneath him, and begins thrusting into you the exact way he knows you like it, totally focusing on your pleasure.

“Michael! Baby fuckkkkkk, you…feel sooo good. Don’t stop!”

“I won’t, baby.” He presses a hand onto your stomach for comfort, but what he felt flipped a switch in him. He looked down and saw himself moving inside of your belly.

“Oh my god…” he gasped out, making you look at him with concern. “B-baby. I can see myself inside of you,” he says, genuinely surprised.

“It’s ‘cause you’re so big,” you say, pouting at him. “G-go ahead, baby. Fuck me until m’ cervix is shaped like your dick.” He groans at the filth in your words, doing just as you say. His body begins to shake with pleasure. He feels so good, too good. Like something only his imagination could come up with. He starts drooling again.

The sight above you is getting you so close to your release. You reach your hand down to your clit and started playing with it, making sure to tilt Michael’s face down to watch before you do so. You want to put on a show for him. It is your anniversary, after all.

“M gonna cum for you Mikey. ‘M gonna make a mess of that pretty dick of yours,” you say nastily. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to tighten more and more.

“Y-Yes! Please cum all over me. Please turn me into a mess,” he begs, and that did it. Your entire body locks up and your vision turns blurry.

“Michael FUCK!” you scream- genuinely scream- out in pleasure. You grip onto his shoulders with all the force you can muster, mumbling out praises of “You’re so pretty” and “Did so good” until your lips fall numb. He rides you through the whole thing, legs shaking and forehead dripping with sweat.

“C-can I please cum? It hurts…” You look at him with surprise, not realizing he was still going for you, and it almost does enough for you to want a round two.

“Oh, Michael. You’re so obedient. I didn’t realize you were still going, love. Cum inside me, baby. Fill me up.”

He whimpers and cums on command, his body stilling and his toes curling up in pleasure. His eyes roll so far back into his head that you can’t even see his irises anymore.

“Thank you, thank you, thank y- ahh, thank you. ‘M so so-ahhhgghh, so sorry. I’ll be good forever ‘m sorry my pretty girl.”

His sweaty body collapses onto yours, and you two lay there for a while, his dick still inside of you, fully softened up.

After at least ten minutes of this, Michael speaks.

“So…Can we do this again?” he asks hesitantly.

“Michael,” you start, “I don’t think I can ever go back. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re submissive?” Your thighs start to clench again at the thought of what you two got up to tonight.

“O-oh. Really? It wasn’t too much?” he asks shyly as he rolls off of your body.

“Really. You should’ve said something sooner, angel face. I prefer being dominant,” you reveal, although you’re sure it was obvious.

“I was just shy, is all. But you? I don’t think- no, I know I’ve never seen anything or anyone as sexy as you were tonight. I feel like I died from bliss and met God. Truly, you were heavenly. I didn’t want any of it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to…We still have a whole weekend to spend here,” you offer, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. He blushes a deep red.

“I’m gonna go get our stuff ready for a bath,” you say. “Tidy up the room for when we’re back, yeah?”

“I’ll do anything for you,” Michael says, clearly still pussy drunk. He grabs your hand before you head to the bathroom.

“I love you. I’m not just saying that because of what we did tonight, you know that. But I love you. Thank you for being the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll cherish you for all of my days, and even afterwards, if I can.“ He gives you a brief, yet passionate kiss on the lips. “I’ll be as quick as possible. Happy anniversary, pretty girl.”

Michael was absolutely buzzing with excitement today. This evening, he’d be sleeping over at his girlfriend’s house for the very first time. The best part? The two of you would be completely alone.

He honestly didn’t know why he was so excited about the alone aspect of it all, though. It’s not like he was brave enough to do anything more than hold your hand.

The two of you had fooled around before, you mostly taking charge, but his brain got so fuzzy around you. Any sense of self or right and wrong would go out the window as soon as he smelled your honey glaze scented lipgloss.

He’d spent the day driving around and shopping with his brother Jermaine, making sure to pick up things you’d mentioned liking the last time the two of you browsed through retail catalogues. The fuzzy white comforter you imagined sprawled at the end of your bed, the cute pajama set he couldn’t wait to see you in, and the stunning golden charm bracelet from your favorite jewelry store, were all carefully strewn across Jermaine’s backseat, a cute enveloped note written to accompany them sitting on top of the pile.

“Mike, this girl’s got you whipped! You droppin’ 3 thousand on a lil’ bracelet?” Jermaine asked with an incredulous laugh after the two settled into his car, driving along the Santa Monica Pier.

“Maine, she’s not just some girl. She’s the love of my life,” he said with a wistful sigh. “Besides, 3 thousand is nothin’. I’d hang the moon and stars for her,” Michael responded earnestly. He’d do a lot for you for no reward at all; just the thought that it was something that convenienced you even a fraction was enough.

“See, this exactly what I mean. Doin’ all that for her and you haven’t even laid down with the girl yet.” The older brother laughed at Michael’s ‘yes man’ attitude toward you, finding the idea of his superstar brother being a total worm for you hilarious.

“We’ve done plenty!” he defended, not enjoying the idea of his older brother seeing him as less experienced for what he’d allowed himself to explore regarding his sex life.

“Like what?” Jermaine questioned, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

“It doesn’t matter! And I don’t see relationships as transactional anyway. The fact that she even likes me is enough.”

A beat of silence settled over the car as Jermaine drove away from the boardwalk, pulling up the car’s hood as they approached a crowd of teenaged girls dancing to one of their older songs, not wanting to be recognized.

When they finally hit the freeway, Michael spoke.

“What do you do?”

“Whatchu mean?” Jermaine pressed.

“Like, how do you…start? Making love, I mean.” Michael cleared his throat.

“We’ve done stuff before, I wasn’t lyin’ about that. But we haven’t gone all the way. She makes me too nervous, ‘n I’m scared of…I don’t want it to end so fast,” he rambled on, realizing Jermaine wasn’t going to interrupt him and was actually giving this some thought.

“You gotta just let it happen, man. I mean, I usually lay the girl down ‘n start kissin’ up on her, but I don’t see you bein’ the type to…” he trailed off in thought. “Just build up tension. Start givin’ her the eyes, ya know? She’ll get the hint.”

“The eyes? Maine, I can barely get close to her in the moment without goin’ dumb.” Michael wiped his hand across his face, trying to cool himself down before he started blushing.

“Here, how’s this?” Jermaine exited the freeway and began demonstrating what he meant at the red light.

“Take your hand, place it on her shoulder like this, look her up ‘n down from her lips to her eyes, and give her a lil’ smirk. She’ll know.” He accelerated on the gas pedal as the light turned green.

“O-okay. Yeah that seems easy enough,” Michael responded shyly.

“Don’t bring this up to anyone else, Maine. I’ll kill you,” he added, realizing how vulnerable he’d gotten. He’d never hear the end of it from Marlon if this got out.

At exactly half past 5, Michael was ringing at your doorbell, your gifts and his belongings in tow. He told Bill he was spending two nights at your place, reminding him not to be seen by your neighbors during his patrols, and basically flew to your doorstep.

You opened it almost immediately, seeming just about as excited as he was, and plastered your lips onto his in an intimate kiss- too intimate for your front door.

“Hi, my pretty boy. Let’s get you inside, yeah?” you greeted him, noticing the way he flustered up at the nickname.

“Yeah…” he said with a ditzy grin across his face.

“O-oh! I got you these gifts!” he announced with pride. He was carrying them and all of his belongings for the sleepover in one hand, determined to not let you help him carry anything.

You pushed the door wide for him to come in, knowing better than to offer to help him. He seemed to be moving without thinking, just taking steps by pure instinct. As he neared the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms, you could see the defeat dawn across his face.

“C’mon, baby. Lemme at least just carry one bag. I’m a big girl.” You took his duffel bag, presumably with his belongings, and led the way, not giving him a second to stop you.

He sighed dramatically and trailed up the steps behind you, his fingers that were straining under the heavier duffel bag feeling relief from the absence of its weight.

As you pushed into your bedroom, the scent of fresh linen and cinnamon wafted into his nostrils, a sudden comfort settling into his bones at the now familiar scent. You shrugged your robe off your shoulders, and Michael realized you were already in your pajamas. He took his duffel bag from your hands, sat down his belongings, and handed you your first gift.

“I’m realizin’ it’s probably too late for this now, but here! I have a feeling you’ll love ‘em.” He was practically vibrating in anticipation.

“I can’t believe you brought me gifts, Mikey. You’re so thoughtful.” You gave him a quick peck and opened the gift box. Inside sat the pj set you fawned over with Michael 2 weeks ago at your kitchen table. It was a red and white gingham two piece set with strawberry pockets on the butt of the mini shorts. The top was a lace-trimmed camisole that stopped just above your hipbone and was see through around the flowy skirt of it. And it was perfect.

“Oh, Michael! I’m putting this on immediately, are you kidding? This is perfect! Thank you so much.” You grabbed him with both hands by the face and littered his burning cheeks in kisses.

“It was nothin’. Here, open the others!” He was eating up your reactions. You jumped up and down at the blanket and tried to pick him up and spin him once you saw the bracelet.

“Hey, let go!” he’d declared in protest with a surprised chuckle at your strength.

“Put it on me, baby,” you told him, breathless, as you let go of his torso.

With a shy smile, he followed your demand mindlessly.

“Do you like it?” he asked, knowing you did. He just wanted to hear you say it.

“I adore it. The first charm I’m gonna buy will be a little ‘M’ just for you. Wouldn’t that be so cute?” you asked him, twisting your wrist around in the warm lighting of your bedroom.

“You’d do that?” he asked you, genuinely surprised by the act of possession.

“Of course! I’d tattoo your name across my chest,” you responded with a quick kiss to his lips as you made your way to your restroom with your new pajama set in hand.

The idea of you tattooing his name on you filled him with a sickening amount of pride.

You stepped back into the room almost as quickly as you left it, and you looked unreal. The cups in the top held your breasts up in just the right way, and the sheer, flowy bottom of it put your torso on full display for him. The shorts were no better. You gave him a twirl, and when his eyes met your backside, he nearly fell at your feet. Your strawberry-adorned ass was sitting prettily in the fabric, the bottom of your soft cheeks on full display for his greedy eyes. You turned back around and sauntered over to him.

“You look perfect,” he complimented you with a dumb smile.

“Hmm, do I?” you teased him as you unzipped his jacket for him.

“Yes, perfect…” he said, losing his train of thought as his eyes fell to the barely-there neckline of your top. He absentmindedly let you pull the jacket off, completely distracted by the view in front of him.

“Get comfortable, baby. I’m gonna go get us popcorn and oj. Then I’ll pick a movie. How’s that sound?” you asked him, knowing he was barely even paying attention.

“Hmm? Yeah, sounds great…” he responded, not able to find more words.

“Michael. Shower. Now.” You turned on your heel and walked with an extra bounce in your step, purposely doing so to make your ass move a bit more as you stepped. He drank it all up and unpacked his stuff in a daze.

He realized he forgot to bring his own body soap, and reveled in the idea of using yours. He couldn’t wait to smell like his girl. It was all he thought about during the 15-minute shower as he lathered up, scrubbed his body, and rinsed off. He brought his own lotion and toothpaste, disgruntled by the idea that he had no excuse to use yours. After he finished moisturizing, he left the room with a small smile, and placed his clothes into your hamper.

He saw you sitting comfortably on the soft carpet at the foot of your bed, your robe on your shoulders and a deck of cards sat in front of you alongside your snacks. You’d brought 2 big slices of homemade pizza, a bottle of tobasco, wet wipes for your hands, and two water bottles, alongside the share-size bowl of popcorn and two glasses of orange juice you’d mentioned. Bambi was in your VCR displaying the main menu, waiting to be played.

He approached you quietly while holding his breath, his mind going crazy at the sight of your legs crossed in front of you. They were making him nervous. He loved your legs.

You looked up at him and a cocky smile spread across your lips.

“You found a matchin’ shirt, huh?” you pressed your index finger to his torso as he sank down next to you, finding the idea of him searching for something to go with your sleep set cute.

“Oh…Yeah, is the matchin’ too much? I just wanted to…” he trailed off, unable to find any excuse that didn’t expose his intentions.

“I love it, baby. We look cute together.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on his jaw. A shiver ran down his spine.

“Eat. I just got this out of the oven, so it should still be hot.” You picked up his plate of pizza and handed it to him, watching with a devious glint in your eye as he obeyed your command. He said a quick prayer, blew the slice, and took a hearty bite while looking deep into your eyes.

“Thank you so much. It’s really good,” he said earnestly, covering his food-filled mouth as he spoke.

“Thank you. Now eat up. I’m gonna start the movie and we can play cards while we watch, when we’re done with the pizza.”

You did just as you said and so did he, eagerly at that. You’d think he didn’t have a brain for his own with the way he just did whatever you told him to. He was wrapped tightly around your pinky finger, just how you liked him.

After you beat him for the fourth time at Go Fish, the movie long having ended, you had him help you bring down your empty dishes and soiled wet wipes downstairs to clean and get rid of.

“I have a game I wanna play,” you stated casually as you handed him the soapy pizza pan you just washed. He rinsed and dried it immediately.

“What is it?” he asked with a little too much enthusiasm. He would do anything if it meant being in your presence.

“It’s…not really an official game. Just somethin’ I sorta made up. You’re gonna like it though.” You said the last sentence as an order, not an assumption. His stomach turned with excitement at the sternness in your voice. “Finish rinsing and drying these and I’ll go brush my teeth ‘n set it up for us. You also brush your teeth when you’re done.”

You left him to the task and hurried up the stairs. You were much more excited than you were letting on tonight. You’d went on a little shopping trip yourself, earlier, spending spent the day at different makeup and department stores meticulously picking out an assortment of flavored lipglosses and chapsticks. You wanted to try them all on and have Michael guess what each flavor was after kissing you. The thought came to you after a particularly vivid dream of him begging you to wear your honey glaze scented gloss while you fucked. You decided you wanted him to be like that after any scent he ever smelled from there on out.

After brushing your teeth, you took off your robe and then laid all of the lip products evenly on your fluffy carpet, and placed your black eye mask beside them, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to leap up the stairs.

As he made it inside your room from your bathroom, having entered it from the hallway, he took in your position and the random scene in front of you, lifting an eyebrow.

“What kinda game is this?” he asked, sounding almost frightened.

“It’s a chapstick challenge. I put on a layer of one of the glosses or lip balms, and you guess the flavors by french kissing me,” you responded with a dazzling smile.

“K-kiss…Okay.” He was already losing it by the mere idea of the game. “And I wear the blindfold?” he inquired.

“Yep. No peeking, understand?” you said, faux seriousness laced into your voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, only half jokingly with the honorific, with his left hand to his temple in a fake salute.

You placed the blindfold over his thick afro, leaving it up just above the eyes, before giving him a kiss. You pulled away and bit your lip at the dazed look on Michael’s face.

You got up- slightly bouncing your ass again- to turn on the record player sitting on your bedside dresser, and adjusted the volume to a comfortable background hum, setting the ambience.

You plopped back down in front of him, and he looked at you hungrily, licking his lips and trying to ignore the lust growing in his abdomen.

“Can I know the flavors, please? Or am I going into this blind?” he inquired.

“We’ll do 7. They’re pretty easy to guess, so I’m making you go in blind. You’re fine with that though, aren’t you baby? You’ll be the best guesser ‘cuz you’re just so smart, right?” you cooed at him, knowing the way you spoke to him would get him to move a mountain for you if you told him to.

“Y-yeah I’m…It’ll be easy.” Bingo.

You pulled the mask over his eyes and opened the first chapstick, the pop of the lid unsealing catching his surprise since his non visual senses were heightened. Cherry. Easy. You applied a generous layer and rubbed your lips together as you inched toward his face.

You pressed your lips to his harshly and he got to work immediately. His tongue explored your lips much longer than it should’ve. This was one of the easiest flavors to guess, by far. He was being greedy. You pulled away with a pop, smirking at his neediness.

“Ch-cherry?” he asked, like it wasn’t obvious.

“You sure you don’t wanna search some more? That was one of the easiest. You could’ve been more sly about it,” you said teasingly.

“‘M s-sorry. I just love your lips…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“I’m just teasin’. Of course it was cherry. One point to you! Good job, Mikey.” His lip twitched at the praise.

Peach was next. It wasn’t too hard, but the scent threw off the flavor; it smelled like mango. That was the exact reason you chose it. The ambiguity left room for more.

You repeated your earlier ministrations of application, and kissed him again, this time scooting a little closer to his body. You even cupped his jaw with your hand, eliciting such a soft whine, you were almost convinced you misheard it.

The kiss was longer this time, but purposely. You even took the opportunity to pull at his hair the tiniest bit, smiling against his lips as he made a surprised sound at the back of his throat. He pulled away this time, out of breath.

“That one stumped me. It smells way different than it tastes. I’m gonna guess somethin’ fruity…Peach?” he guessed.

“You got it!” you responded, genuinely surprised. “That one was one of the hardest ones. Didn’t it smell like mango?”

“Yes, that’s what that smell was! It confused me bad.” He chuckled softly, as he reached his hand out toward you, searching for your waist. You reached out to his hand and guided it to where he wanted it, biting your lip at the contact.

This flavor was watermelon. You applied the sticky balm to your lips and smacked them loudly, warning him of your impact this time. He met your lips with ease and immediately got to sucking and licking. His free hand cupped the back of your neck and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. He moaned when your wet muscle met his, then pulled back, chest heaving.

“Just been waitin’ to do that. I know it was watermelon,” he announced proudly.

“Someone’s gettin’ a lil antsy, huh?” you responded, trying to conceal your bated breath. His lips faltered at the teasing, trying and failing to find an excuse.

“It’s okay, baby. I like when you get desperate.” He bit his lip and covered his face with his hands.

You reached for the next lip balm, this one being cinnamon flavored. He loved cinnamon, which was the reason you bought it. You lathered it on and pulled his hands away from his cheeks, meeting his lips once more. You decided to turn it up a notch by placing his hands right under your breasts and sliding a hand onto his chest, feeling his heart hammering pathetically under your touch, and throwing one of your legs over his. He gasped slightly and pulled you closer, his fingers holding you with a firm grip.

You led the kiss this time, almost forgetting you were playing a ‘game.’ You bit his lip and sucked his tongue just enough to make him squirm, and pulled away.

“What flavor?” you asked him smugly, staring at the slight sheen of lipgloss scattered about his chin and mouth. He didn’t respond, mouth still slightly hanging open with a dazed grin.

“What’s the matter? Cat gotcha tongue?” you continued teasing.

“No, I…You make me forget things,” he admitted sheepishly.

Scratching his neck while keeping one of his hands on your body, he continued.

“Well, I definitely know that was cinnamon. That’s my guess.”

“I knew you’d get that one. I thought of you specifically when I bought it,” you admitted. You poked his nose and absentmindedly applied the next gloss. It was one you already owned and the two of you absolutely adored. Honey glaze.

You smacked your lips one more, letting yourself taste the flavor as you did so, and settled yourself fully on top of his lap now. You felt how hard he was and ground against him languidly once. He whimpered at the contact immediately.

“Aww, my baby’s getting this turned on just from kissing? What am I gonna do with you?” you cooed at him, your breath fanning over his lips. His dick jumped immediately.

“Oh. You’re wearing my favorite…honey glaze.” His knowledge surprised you.

“You peeked, didn’t you?” you questioned him suspiciously.

“N-no! I just…I love the smell of this one. I can recognize it anywhere. Please kiss me,” he whined.

You leaned in at the kiss turned sloppy immediately.

He gripped your waist hungrily with both of his hands, and rocked up into your crotch desperately. You moaned against his tongue as he licked your mouth inside and out, drool sliding down your cheek.

The both of you got incredibly lost in the moment, allowing your need for each other to bubble up sporadically. You ground harshly against his erection and sucked his neck, leaving a bruise in its wake. He moaned once really loudly, and his hips jerked against yours. Then, his hands flew from your waist and ripped the blindfold off of his face.

“‘M sorry. I need to use the restroom,” he quickly mumbled out. He gently slid from underneath you, then made a beeline for your bathroom door.

“Mich-” you called after him breathlessly as the door shut.

“Damnit,” he mumbled as he pulled down his pants. His cum sat proudly against the fabric of his boxers, much to his annoyance. He grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned his crotch wildly, the cold wetness making him shiver. He couldn’t believe he let himself go like that. Sliding his underwear off, he internally cursed himself for being so embarrassing. He washed his hands and entered the room again, his head hanging low and his underwear balled into his fist. He put it inside your hamper and then sat on the edge of your bed without a word, avoiding your gaze.

You knew exactly what happened, and it made you cocky.

“Mikey, baby. I know you came your pants,” you announced crudely. You sat down next to him with a wicked smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s embarrassing. We didn’t even do anything…” He sniffed in shame.

“Baby, it’s flattering. I’m glad to know that you get that horny for me,” you replied. You gripped his jaw, forcing him to look you in the eye.

“It’s not…Well, yes. I do get…aroused by you. But it’s your lipgloss. The smell…It makes my brain numb,” he admitted.

You removed your hand and bent over right in front of him to pick up the honey glaze scented gloss from the carpet, purposely nudging your butt against his knee as you reached down. You turned back around and waved it in his face tauntingly.

“This lipgloss? My favorite one?” You opened it and applied another layer. Setting it down on the bed, you placed your hands on either side of his legs and inched toward his face.

“The smell turns you on?” you ask, letting the scent waft around his personal space. He whimpered loudly.

“Yes,” he spat out, shoving down a heavy gulp. He could already feel himself getting hard again, and his eyes trailed down your torso, straight to the curve of your breasts, which were more visible due to you being bent over.

“You checkin’ me out?” you asked him mockingly.

His eyes snapped to your face as if he got caught doing something wrong. You sat back down next to him and stared at his bottom lip, which was being cradled between his teeth.

The way you were looking at him, like you were a predator hunting its prey, made Michael’s heart hammer so loudly against his chest that he swore you could hear it.

Then, a voice echoed in his head.

Start givin’ her the eyes…Take your hand, place it on her shoulder…look her up ‘n down…

He followed each direction as it played in his mind, his sudden confidence faltering your own in its track. Then, he gave you the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen.

…Give her a lil’ smirk. She’ll know.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” you asked him straightforwardly. He flinched a bit at how direct your words were.

“Yes,” he sighed. “B-but only if you wanna! I don’t…It has to be your choice.” What he really wanted to say was that he wanted you to use his body like he only existed for your pleasure.

“Then fuck me, Michael. Rip my clothes off and plow me into my sheets.” You slid your thumb across his bottom lip and tugged it down. He stared at you like a deer in headlights.

“You gonna touch me, or what?” you asked, cocking your head to the side in fake confusion. You knew your words were scrambling his brain, and you loved it.

“Y- sorry. Um.” He fumbled with his hands, not knowing where to touch you or place them. He felt like an idiot. You’ve engaged in sexual acts before, but he felt out of his league now, the looming state of his virginity making everything much more serious.

“Go get a condom from my dresser. Top drawer,” you ordered him. He obeyed and picked a small foil wrapper from the unopened Trojan box. He secretly thanked God at the sight, realizing you hadn’t recently been using them with anyone else, although he already knew that.

He held the foreign object in his hand and stood between your parted legs.

“C’mere,” you said before pulling him down by his neck and making out with him like you hadn’t been allowed to for a century.

He cautiously explored your body with his large hands, continuing certain gropes and squeezes when you gave him louder whines.

His body was now hovering yours, propped up by his forearms, and you could feel his heavy dick slap against your crotch through his pants as he went to kiss tenderly on your neck.

“I’m not wearing any underwear either. Wanna feel how wet I am for you?” you asked him lewdly.

“Please,” he begged, letting you take his hand and place it square on top of your clothed pussy.

He could feel you pounding beneath his palm, and he felt that familiar slimy substance connecting his hand to your core. He rubbed two of his fingers into you a bit, collecting some of your arousal. Detaching his mouth from your neck, he looked down at you with a dazed expression. With his free hand, he gently gripped your face, making you look at him.

Without a word, he removed his hand from your sex and sniffed his fingers greedily. He bucked his hips into yours, and shoved those fingers into his mouth with a loud groan.

You were in awe.

“I had no idea you were this filthy. Thought you were a good boy, but I guess you’re way dirtier than I thought,” you told him with surprise etched into every word. Your statement only made him needier. He shoved his fingers farther into his mouth and pulled them out, searching for your cunt again.

“Please, let me take these off. Wanna feel you,” he begged, a mixture of drool and your arousal collecting at the corner of his parted lips.

“Go ahead baby. Show me how much you want me.”

With a whimper, he crawled down your body and landed on his knees with effortless agility. He hooked his fingers into the top of your pajama shorts and froze.

“I-i’m a virgin,” he stated, voice barely above a whisper.

“Michael, I know. We’ve talked about this plenty of times,” you responded patiently. You knew he was nervous, but you also knew he wanted this.

“I know, it’s just that…I’m not gonna know how to do everything. I don’t wanna embarrass myself,” he replied meekly.

“Baby…I know you think I’m some sex god, but I’m still a virgin too.” You sat up and looked down at him, forcing him to meet your intense gaze. He looked stunned.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You don’t needa lie to me to make me feel bet-” You interrupted him by clamping your hand over his mouth.

“Michael, I’m not lying. When I told you before we ever did anything sexual that I had experience, that wasn’t a lie either. I’ve just never trusted anyone to go all the way. But I trust you and I want this with you. Don’t you wanna give it to me?” you asked him with a faux-sad pout.

“Of course! I wanna be your first…I want you to be mine. And my last. I wanna give my soul to you,” he rambled, inching your shorts down your thighs as he leaned in closer.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me..” he spoke quietly, mostly to himself, drifting off once he unclothed your lower body. He threw the damp shorts onto the floor and looked up at you with so much gratitude that it made your heart swell.

“Taste me,” you said, as you watched him lick his lips like he was starving.

He placed your thighs atop his shoulder and delved in, immediately grinding against nothing at the scent of your pussy.

“Mmm, th-that’s right. Just how I taught you before,” you spoke to him. He was circling your clit with his tongue with expert precision; just enough to feel like you were floating, but not enough to feel like you were grinding against a rock. Then he did something else you taught him, but with his own twist. He scratched up and down your thighs, the familiar sensation making you feel like music. But then, he slid his tongue down to your entrance and stuck it in, your arousal pooling around it in the act.

“F-fuck. Where’d you learn how to do that? Been seein’ someone else?” you inquired, only half joking. He pulled out and looked up at you with an earnest fire in his eyes.

“Never.” Then, he continued his actions, fucking his tongue into you as far as both of your anatomies would allow.

You pushed his head into you, grinding down with need. His afro acted as a protection against your brutal shove. He slid his tongue back out and worked your clit again, feeling confidence settle into his demeanor. So much confidence, he took two fingers, collected your arousal into them, and slid them into you. You cursed loudly.

“O-oh my god…F-Yeah! Curl them like that,” you mewled, your brain not knowing how to compute your pleasure into words. You’d only felt your own fingers inside there, once or twice, and you didn’t enjoy it. Your fingers couldn’t reach as far as his currently were, though.

You fell back against the bed as you felt your orgasm sprinting toward you faster than you anticipated, gripping onto your sheets and locking your ankles around Michael’s neck in an attempt to hold on.

“M-mikey, ah. Stop. Stop, stop, stop,” you breathed out to him, feeling the knot in your stomach almost unravel. He immediately withdrew his mouth and fingers, you arousal leaving a string of connection to his chin as he did so.

“Did it start to hurt? Sorry, I just thought you were gonna have an or-”

“I was gonna have an orgasm. I just don’t want to yet. I wanna suck that pretty dick of yours first. You’re gonna let me, right?” you asked him, not really leaving space to take no for an answer.

Michael never let you suck him off, to your own disappointment. He’s eaten you out so many times that you’d run out of positions for it, he’s let you grind against his dick with clothes, he’s even let you jerk him off, but he’s never let you get on your knees and put your mouth on it. His exact words were that it was ‘degrading and useless.’ He didn’t wanna hurt you. But you wanted to see him let go. You wanted the proof of your lewd acts with him physically etched into bruises to the back of your throat.

“Baby, I can’t let you do th-” You clamped your hand against his mouth once more.

“You’re gonna let me suck you off. Right?” you asked, slowly moving your hand away from his mouth.

“Ok-kay,” he responded with resignation in his voice.

He stood up and you slid his bottoms off, licking your lips at the sight of him. He was holding out on you because god was it pretty. And big. You thought he was just being a modest gentlemen when he told you he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was more than just that. He was really long, and he knew it.

“So you knew how big your dick was huh? That’s why you never let me do this. Betchu imagine me sucking that pretty thing off all the time.” You reached for it greedily and spit onto his tip, watching it slide down the base slowly.

“Stop- d-don’t talk about it like that..” he said weakly.

“Oh but you like it, though. I could practically feel you getting harder, baby. No need to be shy about it,” you egged him on. Before he could protest any longer, you wrapped your hand around his base and began tugging upward. You reached for your lipgloss with your free hand and applied a thick layer to your swollen lips. You blew a taunting kiss at him. He was visibly holding back his moans, much to your disapproval.

“Nuh-uh, let me hear those pretty moans. Sing for me, Michael,” you directed. He obeyed, and not even on purpose. The way you were touching and talking to him made him forget who he was.

“Feels s- you feel so good. I love you..” he blabbered.

“I love you too, baby.” You leaned forward and gave his shaft an open-mouthed kiss, maintaing eye contact with him. His whole body went rigid in shock as he saw the sticky mark your lip product left in its wake.

“Oh, god,” he groaned, jerking his hips up into your hand. You started twisting it whenever you got closer to his tip.

Without warning, you took it into your mouth, eyes focused on his, and sunk down on it. His eyes rolled back and his hands flew to the back of your head, holding it for composure. You began slowly moving up and down, flattening your tongue and sucking him like he was the best popsicle you’d ever tasted.

“Pl-ease, I don’t wanna cum yet. Plea-, please, please,” he begged on and on, turning please into a chant.

You hummed around his length, ignoring him, and continued to work. Tears stinged at your eyes, and drool dribbled out of your mouth. The sinful sight of you made him do something he swore he wouldn’t do. He rocked into your mouth roughly, just once, but it was enough to make you falter and gag against him. You moaned lustfully and your eyes lolled to the back of their sockets. He removed his hands from your head and scooted back from your mouth with a pop.

“‘M so sorry! I should’ve contained myself better. I know better. Did it hurt? If course it hurt, you’re crying and you gagged. Oh, God I’m so sorry prett-” You gripped onto his dick harshly, cutting him off.

“Michael, I want you to do that. I love it. Fuck my mouth, angel face. I can take it,” you reassured him with a devilish grin.

“N-no, I shouldn’t’ve let you touch me like that. You’re too precious…I can’t hurt you agai-”

“Michael. For the love of God, shut the hell up. I want you to hurt me and bruise me and make me cry. Is that not okay? Am I too dirty for you?” you asked him, feigning hurt. You secretly enjoyed tricking him into getting what you wanted because he somehow always gave it to you, and this time was gonna be no different.

“Not at all! You could never be too dirty for me…You’re perfect. I just don’t wanna degrade you like that. But since it’s what you want, okay. I’ll give you anythin’ you want.” Bingo.

“M’kay, now you gonna fuck my throat like a good boy, right?” you asked him with puppy dog eyes, tears still sitting in your waterline.

“Y-yes,” he responded hesitantly.

“Yes, what?” you asked him, enjoying working him up like this.

“Yes, angel. I-i’m gonna fuck your face…like a good…boy?” he responded, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than he was you.

You gave him a soft hmm and pulled him back towards you, spitting a glob into your hand once more. You jerked him slowly 4 times and then looked him in his face.

“Don’t worry about me, ‘kay? If I want you to stop, I’ll make you stop. But, I trust you,” you said earnestly. “C’mon, stand up and give it to me, baby.”

Then, you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. He hesitantly stood up, jerked himself twice, and then pushed into your mouth. Holding the back of your head gently, but firmly, with both of his hands, he set an inexperienced pace with his thrusts. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harshly whenever he would drag his hips back, causing his legs to shake.

“Th-this is so, AH, wrong. You shouldn’t look this pretty like this. With my…thing in your mouth.”

You scrunched your brows into a pout and moaned loudly, forcing him to unconsciously fuck your mouth harder.

“B-baby you can’t do that, ‘m gonna finish if you do.” You continued moaning and sucking loudly, noticing his breaths shorten as his climax neared.

“God, you’re so pretty d-down there. Ngh- wait-” You forced yourself away from his crotch and crawled to the center of your bed, positioning yourself on all fours. You turned around and coaxed him over to you with a teasing finger.

“Baby, I need you. See how wet I am?” You arched your back and swayed your hips side to side, letting the light catch your arousal. “I need you to make me feel better. It’s aching,” you pouted. His feet were moving before his conscious mind could register your words, and he joined you in bed. He picked up the condom he mindlessly dropped earlier and unwrapped it.

“I-i’ll make you feel better,” her says as he pulled the rubber from its foil packet.

You turned around and took the contraceptive from him.

“Let me put it on you, daddy,” you smirked as you said the nickname.

“Don’t call me th-that,” he pouted.

You placed it on his tip with unnecessary friction and rolled it down his shaft, raising your eyebrows and smirking at the pathetic boy in front of you.

“Mmm, but you like it when I tease you with it,” you told him.

“Okay.” He gulped audibly and leaned down to press a hot kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Michael. Now fuck me like you need it,” you said as you went back to your position on all fours. You were almost scared that he’d be too big, or that you’d need lube that you didn’t have, but as soon as he pushed his tip in, your pussy sucked him in. It was an unfamiliar feeling, being stretched like this, but your body didn’t register too much pain. You were drenched.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he called out as your sex squelched around him, forcing him in deeper. You moaned out as he stretched and filled you. As soon as he bottomed out, he laid on top of your back, already feeling overwhelmed.

“M-michael! Oh my god, ‘m so wet. Needed your dick inside me so bad, fuck,” you inched forward and slammed back against his length forcefully, arching your back in the process. He sat up immediately and gripped onto your hips.

“The way you talk…” he trailed off as he started thrusting into you slowly.

“You like m-my dirty mouth, baby? Want me to talk to you through it, pretty boy?” you asked him, feeling his tip hit your g-spot with ease.

“Yes, please,” he whined, speeding up slightly in anticipation.

“F-fuck me harder, baby. Feels so good.” You pushed your head into your mattress, arching your back up higher, allowing yourself to take him deeper. He followed your instructions and snapped his hips into you harshly once, gauging your body’s response to the action. You pushed your ass further into his crotch, and he took that as silent permission.

“Mikeyyy. You’re so bad, taking my virginity in my bedroom like this. Mmm-fuck,” you whined, your vision going blurry with tears of pleasure.

“Y-yes, so bad. ‘M so bad,” he repeated, slamming into you faster. Your bed was creaking with his thrusts. He could already feel himself losing it again.

“Mmm, mmm, Mikey p-push my head into the mattress baby. Be rough.”

He obeyed immediately, leaning over and pressing his palm to the side of your head. He took one look at your face and felt his orgasm creeping up. Your mouth was wide open and there was a huge wet spot where your mouth leaked drool onto your sheets.

“You’re so pretty, baby. You look so good like this,” he complimented.

“With you plowin’ me into m-my own sheets? Thank you, baby boy.”

Your tongue licked at his thumb that was near your lips, and you sucked it into your mouth.

“OH! I’m g-onn…I’m cumming. Shit, I’m cumming!” he cried out as his hips stuttered. He buried himself into you deeply and filled the condom with his seed. He collapsed his torso onto your arched back and you bit his thumb. He clutched it after you spat it out of your mouth.

“I didn’t say to stop, did I? I thought you were a gentleman. Make me cum,” you demanded.

“Yes, baby. ‘M sorr-y…” he apologized in between whines of overstimulation.

You reached your hand down to your clit and started playing with it needily, overeager to cum on him. He pounded into you again, his dick half hard, as you started babbling into your bedsheets.

“Mikey, ‘m s-so close. Keep fuckin’ me like that, baby. You’re doin’ so well for me. You’re fillin’ me up so good.” The sound in the room was so unmistakable. The noise of creaky box springs, skin slapping and sticky arousal drowned out the hum of music leaving your record player.

He leaned down and hovered over your ear, whimpering into it. He sounded like an undiscovered instrument. The sound made your pussy squeeze against his shaft, signaling your orgasm.

“Y-yeah be louder. Love your filthy little whimpers, Michael. Gimme more,” you said with the last of your breath. He pounded harder and fully moaned into your ear, causing you to completely come undone.

You reached behind you and dug your nails into his sides as your legs shook and your pussy spasmed around his spent dick, already hardened again. You screamed his name like a prayer and Michael wished that was the only sound his ears would ever be subjected to again.

As you began going limp, Michael slid his arm underneath you, wrapping around your waist, and pulled out of you. He rolled into his side and pulled you on top of his chest, ignoring how hard he was again.

“I’m so glad it was you,” he said after he caught his breath.

“Hmm?” you asked him, looking up to the side of his face.

“My virginity. I’m glad you took it. It feels like you were exactly who I was waitin’ for whenever I would tell my brothers I was waitin’ on the right girl. No, you’re even better,” he said bashfully.

“Well, I’m glad you took mine too. You were absolutely perfect. I’m so glad we get to share this memory with each other. We fit so well together, don’tcha think? Like two halves of a puzzle,” you mused with a faint smile.

“I’d say so,” he said with a gulp loaded with a double meaning.

“Whatcha mean by that, baby?” you questioned him.

“Just…It’s like your body was swallowin’ me whole. It was incredible.” He bit his lips as he looked you in your eyes. You felt a pulsing at your abdomen, finally noticing how hard he was.

“Ohhh, my baby’s ready for round two? You have stamina…Good ta know,” you teased him with a giggle.

“‘M sorry, you just look ‘n sound so pretty when you’re tellin’ me what to do…”

“It’s okay, baby. Here. Let’s go take a quick shower, yeah? Then we can sixty-nine,” you said as you sat up on your knees. You gave him a wink. He gulped both audibly and visibly.

“Oh, yes please. I’d love that,” he responded with unconcealed enthusiasm. You pulled him behind you and led him toward the restroom, the excitement of round two noticeable in your light steps. You discarded your shirt and pulled Michael’s over his head for him.

“Take off that condom, baby. I’m gonna wash you up.”

He threw the soiled condom into your tiny tin trash can, and trailed after you like a puppy.

You turned on your shower and faced him, your tits on full display to him now. He swallowed loudly and gave a kiss to each of your nipples, surprising you in the act.

“I love you,” he whispered, and then leaned in to give you an intense kiss. His tongue slotted between your lips before you pulled away.

“Uh-uh. Don’t start something you can’t finish in here, needy boy. I’ll make it worth the wait.”

You stepped into the shower, him immediately after you, and the two of you let a comfortable silence settle in the air, washing yourselves and then each other’s backs.

With the two forgotten lip balm flavors lying lazily on the floor, the promise of your newly broadened sexual history etched into the empty house with a faint trace of a sweet scent. The scent of honey glaze.

Tags: @simp4eshal @urbanfunkchild @gothicmj @lil6uapa @yenvixx @cndybliss

His socks slid across the dark carpet. Static pinched his ankles—zap—he ignored it. Kept pacing. Kept typing. Kept deleting.

Hey, how have you been?

Too casual.

What’s up with you?

Too forward.

I miss y—

No. God, no.

His thumb throbbed against his tooth as he picked at the skin there. He nearly drew blood; he didn’t care. He tapped her contact, finger hovering over the photo. It was old, probably three months ago—the moment that he documented with pride.

She was asleep then. Lying on her stomach with her arms on the pillow, her back bare, with soft script running down her spine like scripture as she rested like an angel beneath white covers.

It’d been a week.

Seven days. 168 hours. 10080 minutes. 604800 seconds— since he’d seen her.

Since the floorboards squeaked under her familiar weight, since the candles bent in reverence when she stepped over the threshold like Athena walking onto ancient ruins, since her scent—flowers and temptation—lingered in the pillowcases he refused to wash. He couldn’t get rid of her. Refused to, really.

He felt it.

His resolve slipped through his fingers, pooling around him like water. The restraint that broke through chains and morphed into an obsession that remained well hidden behind meticulously crafted messages and delayed phone calls. The desire that skipped over curiosity and jumped in bed with need.

She clouded his mind like fog. Pinched his nerve endings and rearranged them until he short-circuited. All she needed was to blow a whistle, and he’d come running, obedience dripping from his mouth like an offering.

It didn’t take much.

It never did.

It’d been a week.

She stayed. And they kissed like friends. Made love like lovers, slid into a porcelain basin filled with warm, bubbling water. Clinked glasses full of champagne—they kissed there, too.

He missed her. Needed to convince her. He called her—

“You up?”

“Why, you miss me or somethin’?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. His armor groaned.

He exhaled—quietly—and stared at the television ahead. It was off. Only a blurred outline of himself stared back at him. He turned over his shoulder. “Somethin’ like that.”

A pause.

“You comin’ through or not?”

She hummed. “That ain’t what I asked.”

A pause.

“You miss me or not?”

His head fell backward, exposing the column of his neck to the ceiling. He dropped his chin and pinched the corners of his lips between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah,” he said lowly. “I do.”

She sounded pleased. He could see it: her tilted chin, smug smile, and low eyes. That look. The one that said, I got you where I want you, was a fixture. Nearly permanent.

“Thought so.”

There was movement. Bed sheets crinkled. Bare feet kissed the floor—had her polish color changed since the last time, he’d seen her? Zippers rattled—like symbols.

But she was moving. He heard it. The clothes shifting in her duffle bag. Zipper sliding. Yeah. She had him, but she was coming anyway. Movement. Decision. She wasn’t talking—she didn’t do that unless it was necessary—she was coming.

His tongue circled the inside of his cheek as he glanced at the door. Then the clock. Back to the door. Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. How quickly could she get here? The opening of her front door snagged his attention.

“Twenty,” was all she said.

Jermajesty bit his lip. “Bet.”

Nineteen minutes passed. The knock came once. He was already moving. Didn’t check the door— didn’t need to.

She stood in the threshold like she always did—glistening with gold and glory. She was dressed down, but the effort didn’t go unnoticed. She reapplied mascara. Slid another layer of lip gloss across her lips. Added a layer of perfume—jasmine over what was originally vanilla.

Jermajesty raised an eyebrow, his eyes following her as she slid past him with the ease of a woman who was convinced, she owned the space.

She did.

She slid her bag—the black weekender—off her forearm and onto the floor beside the couch. She leaned against the arm and crossed her arms, chin lifted.

He stood in front of her. Hands stuffed into the low-hanging gray sweatpants. She blinked slowly. “You came.”

Yasmin raised her shoulder. “I was summoned.”

His dark curls glistened beneath ambient light and winked at her. He tilted his head slightly. “… that's what we call it now?”

Yasmin pursed her lips and shifted her gaze to the television. To the vinyl record player—no music played, though. To his reflection in the stainless-steel refrigerator. To the collage on the wall—was that her? Whatever.

She clasped her hands together. “You still got that bathtub?”

He nearly laughed.

Of course. That’s where she took it.

Always did.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Wasn’t in the mood to detach it today.”

Her eyes—green in hue and dangerous in aura—sharpened. “You’re bein’ fresh.”

“If that’s what you’d call it, sure.”

He held her gaze. Didn’t look away. Didn’t need to.

Yasmin inhaled, the pendant from her necklace slipping between her breasts as she did so. She turned to the left, then the right, and slid her socks off, stuffing them into her weekender. She hauled it over her forearm and brushed past him. Straight back toward the door on the far right.

His room. Of course. That’s where she went.

“The bubbles,” she murmured to herself. “Where they at…”

He rubbed his jaw. Didn’t follow. Didn’t need to. She’d find it. Right where she left it.

He let time linger before he walked down the hallway. He stopped in the doorway. Watched her for a second. Just one. Water already ran. Steam circled the atmosphere. And she was halfway into the tub, back bear with script running down her spine like scripture, like this was always the next step. Her preferred destination.

“You couldn’t wait?”

Yasmine dipped her hand beneath a glob of suds and brought it to her mouth, blowing until a cloud of bubbles hit the mat.

“You was too busy watchin’ me walk away.”

His jaw shifted.

She caught that too.

“Anyway,” she hummed, dipping her shoulders into the hot water. “Get in. Or fan me, or something.”

“Fan you?” he muttered, sliding his shirt off his arms. It fell to the floor with a whisper. “Am I Marc Antony to you or some shit?”

“You wanna be?”

“He’d dead.”

“He was devoted.”

Her words lingered for a moment. But he didn’t stop moving. Plucked his socks off. Stepped out of his sweats. Stepped in behind her. Like clockwork. Like routine.

“Devotion,” Jermajesty mumbled, dropping his head against the wall. “Is only revered like a martyr when it’s mutual. Otherwise…”

He shifted behind her. “It’s devastating.”

Yasmin picked at her nails beneath the water. Dropped her eyes toward the pendant on her wet chest—J—and blinked twice. She hinged backward, the gold against his neck kissing her shoulder.

He moved again.

Slung one arm over the edge of the tub, water dripping from his fingertips like rain. His right arm stayed put—heavy on her abdomen, fingers twisting the naval piercing there.

“Baby…”

He hummed.

Yasmin turned, her knees pressing against the floor of the tub as she settled on his lap. His thumb traced her hip slowly. “What’s up?”

“What are we doing?”

Jermajesty’s head jerked like he was offended (he was). He licked his lips and tapped the edge of the tub. “I’m waitin’ for you to stop playin’ with me.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. Confusion. Though he didn’t understand what was confusing. What failed to register. Or what she didn’t want to say.

But she didn’t like that—his accusation—or what she thought it was. Her eyes narrowed. “Playing?” It rolled off her tongue slowly, like she tasted something she wasn’t quite sure she enjoyed. “Playing…”

Jermajesty’s expression didn’t change. “Yes. Playing. You know I want you, Yasmin; don’t do this.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

Yasmin’s eyes dropped toward the gold rope around his neck. Traced the curve of his collarbone, damp from her hands. She fiddled with the small clasp and whispered, “What about the others?”

It came too quick. Too fast to have been thought through. Like she’d sat in it for years and finally had the opportunity to release it. Like doubt and fear had a voice. He hated it.

His stomach clenched as he swallowed a frustrated groan. “What others, Yasmin?”

She didn’t answer that. Instead, the words on her tongue turned into something sharper. Her hands dropped to his chest, resting, still. “You asked me to come over at eleven at night.”

His hand paused at her waist. “You ignored my text at 10 in the morning. Try again.”

“Still.”

“Then you ignored it at three in the afternoon. Keep goin’.”

She did: “Still came through though.”

He laughed. “Yeah. And you accused me of treatin’ you like a booty call.”

“I’m in your bathtub.”

He got quiet then. "That ain't the only thing I want from you."

Silence.

The water stilled. Bubbles crackled and popped like the party’d been shut down. And they sat— in silence.

Yasmin glanced toward the mirror. She could only see a portion of their reflection. Her frizzy hair from the humidity of the water. His lax posture against the back of the tub, though his heart thundered beneath her hands like Zeus’ chariot galloped through the sky. They looked like…a couple.

Intimate. Close. Together.

She blinked. Dropped her eyes toward her black sweatsuit on the floor. She began to shift again, to face the wall ahead rather than the brown eyes that begged for her honesty.

He held her in place.

“Yasmin.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him.

He was different when he was quiet. When he didn’t have a shield in one hand and sword in the other. When he wasn’t on guard, defensive.

Had his eyes always been this brown? Dark. Heavy. There was something there. The right one—a hint of gold around the iris. She hadn’t quite noticed that before. Even when they’d followed her every expression when he loved her into oblivion on white covers, she didn’t notice the gold in his eyes.

Her mouth twisted.

“I’m scared.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“I do…want you.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what to do with it.”

Restraint filled the space. Cooled the atmosphere more than the water that’d chilled. Jermajesty stayed quiet. He was good at that. And she hated it. How he was fine with sitting in discomfort while it ate her from the inside out.

She wasn’t like him. Or she didn’t want to be— she didn’t know the difference yet.

Yasmin trembled once. Then: “I can try. With you.”

“That only works if you can let me love when the sun’s out.”

Love. Love. Love. Love. Love— you.

“…okay.”

She turned, settling back against his chest again. Like before. Like nothing had changed. Except everything had. He didn’t move. Didn’t tighten his hold. Didn’t say anything.

And neither did she. -