#michael innocent

YEAR 1975

“Michael, cut it out.” You started. Michael had the tendency to poke at your shoulder when he knew you weren’t paying attention, and it was one of those moments. Your eyes were locked on the handwritten english paper you had yet to complete in front of you. Your topic was a three page essay on the civil war–and you had about five sentences jotted down on the college ruled page. Needless to say, you never paid attention in history, it was all so boring to you. You had bigger dreams–you wanted to become a famous designer somewhere deep in the cities of New York, and away from here. All this civil war stuff didn’t matter in the end to you.

“Can you entertain me now? That paper’ll be there later.” Michael groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance. One thing you learned early on about your best friend was how short his attention span was–and how easily irritated he got when things didn’t go his way. Even if that meant having to put all the things you’re doing to the side, just to find something for him to do.

“Michael, if I don’t finish this paper by tomorrow, my teacher is gonna’ give me that ‘in school suspension’ stuff–and y’know how my momma gets.” You demanded, pointing your deep burgundy painted fingernail into his chest. “I came over so you could help me, not distract me.”

Michael sat up straight in his spot beside you, fixing his wrinkled shirt. “Alright, alright, fine. But you gotta’ promise me you’ll let me take you on that walk later.” He smiled, leaning in closer to you and your binder, scanning over the few things you did write. “Nd’ for starters, you spelled ‘civil’ wrong, goofy. You put an ‘e’ at the end.” His laugh echoed at the realization, and you playfully shoved him after aggressively erasing your mistake.

“Shut up and help me, Mikey!” You giggled, staring in his eyes for the shortest second. You shook off the feeling, and put pen to paper once again.

7:15 P.M.

You and Michael walked the trail of his home, your flats leaving a quiet click after every step you took. The two of you just ate dinner with his family, and Michael kept pushing to take you outside in the fresh air. He just wanted to get you away from the stress of your homework— and you were happy to have finished your paper, but there was this lingering pain in your stomach–and it was aching you when you couldn’t figure out why it came so abruptly. You shrugged off the feeling, pulling your satchel farther up your arm.

“Are you excited about graduating?” Michael asked suddenly, breaking the silence between the two of you. You stood there in all of your awkwardness, finally snapping out of it Michael brushed a loose strand of hair out of your face. You coughed it off.

“I mean yeah. Ahem. Yeah, I guess.” You answered dryly. “Just ready to get out is all–M’ just ready to be able to do anything I want to–once I’m out my momma’s house,of course.” You sarcastically added.

“You still into makin’ dresses and all that stuff?” Michael asked, walking the both of you to a bench to get a little extra time before you had to go home.

“It’s called sewing, Mikey. And yes I am,” you started, opening your satchel and grabbing a couple loose pieces of paper out of your pink binder, the pages covered in sketches and ideas that you were ready to whip up in real time. You laid them out on your lap to display them to him, and he took a couple to get a closer look. The contact of the back of his soft hands gave you a slight chill, but you were known for brushing off any feeling of the sort. In your opinion, the two of you had always been the clingy type. His brothers teased the both of you since you were little–talking about how close you two were, always hugging each other, staring for just a second too long, laying together in silence when no one else was around. You were the only thing that kept Michael grounded from all the messiness that followed behind him with being in the music industry at such an early age. He’s opened up to you about things even his siblings didn’t know about, and they saw him every single day. In your eyes you always saw him as a baby deer in need of guidance and protection, while also being his number one fan in everything he accomplished.

“You’re crazy talented. It don’t make no sense.” He smiled, admiring the handmade work in front of him. “Maybe one day you can design my outfit when I’m big and famous.”

You laughed it off, then looked back at Michael’s face. He was dead serious.

“Michael, you’re not serious.”

“I am indeed, yes ma’am.”

You lightly slapped your palm against your forehead, but in actuality you were trying your hardest not to blush. Michael always treated you like a trophy, always lifting you up when your classmates or potential boyfriends would let you down. He always knew what to say to you.

“I gotta head home soon, Mikey.” You tell him, gathering your papers to clip back into your binder. You would go over all of these later, and maybe you’d conjure up a little something you’d wanna see Michael in when he’s “rich and famous” one day.

“Can we talk, for just a sec’?” Michael asks you softly, grabbing at your fingertips to sit you back down. You oblige, nodding your head for him to continue. You loved looking into his eyes—when you were younger it seemed like his pupils were the biggest thing on his head. His expression wasn’t how it usually was though, his eyes were filled with dread. That familiar feeling started to arise into your gut.

Michael grabbed both of your hands, and stared into your eyes. You fluttered your mascara coated eyelashes at him, waiting on him to say something.

“Joseph has us goin’ back on tour soon, nd’ I dunno’ for how long.”

There it was. That gut feeling. Michael had to leave you again, and you didn’t know the next time you’d see him. You knew that this was what came with business, but Michael was really all you had, besides your mother. He was your escape–he helped shut your mind off when things got way too loud.

You were stunned, and overall heartbroken.

You took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, the tears in your eyes slowly started to build up, and you stupidly let one slip. Michael immediately noticed it, and held on to your hands just a little bit tighter.

“Angel, please don’t cry.” Michael soothed, bringing his bigger hands to wipe the falling tears from down your skin.

Angel. The nickname he called you once you broke down and opened up to him for the first time when you were at the ripe age of ten. He called you that because he believed you were “sent from Heaven” to be in his life, telling you that you were handpicked from the sky by God himself.

“I just… I hate that you have t’ keep leavin’ me, Mikey.” You admitted between sniffles, using the back of your cashmere sweater to wipe the remaining tears and snot remnants off of your face.

Michael rubbed circles on the back of your palms. Doing all he could to soothe you.

“I hate leavin’ you too, y’know I do. C’mere.” Michael also admits, opening his arms to you to let you lean into his chest. You could feel his heart beating, a sound you were used to when the both of you would lay across his bed, talking about nothing. You’d always casually lay your head on his chest, and drift off to sleep, while he sang ‘Ben’ to you for the thousandth time.

“W-what about my graduation…?” You started, your voice barely above a low whisper. “Are y’gonna be able to make it?”

Silence.

“I dunno if I’ll make it, angel.”

Your lip quivered, and your face felt hot. Your tears were starting up again. This was the biggest disappointment of your life. Of course you were more than happy for Michael—all of this gave him more opportunities to better his own solo career in the future, which was all he talked about. But that feeling of one of the most important people in your not being there for such a big moment… it stung worse than a million bee stings.

Michael didn’t say a word, he brought you in closer, tracing stars on your back. That was the signature you two shared. You’d draw stars on each other’s backs when one of you was going through a tough time, and it always seemed to calm the other person down.

The stars weren’t helping this, though.

“Look at me for a sec, let me wipe your tears.”

You sat up off of Michael’s chest, and looked into those doe eyes.

“I’m in love with you. I always have been, always will be. You hear?”

‘I’m in love with you.’ Words you thought you’d never hear from the boy sitting before you. It was a given that you two were close, but loving someone and being in love with someone was completely different.

You’ve felt the same for years.

Always avoiding taking things too far with any other boys who came your way, because you always had Michael in the back of your mind. Michael was popular with the girls your age, but he always turned them down because in his heart, he knew you were the one for him.

You opened your mouth to tell him you didn’t feel the same, though you knew that wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t true.

“I’m in love with you too, Mikey.”

You looked into each other’s eyes, and shared a deep, meaningful kiss. It sealed the deal. That was the unspoken rule.

“You promise y ain’t gon’ kiss nobody else after me?” He jokes, holding his pinky finger out.

“Promise. As long as you keep in touch, nd’ tell me all about everything.” You say, holding your pinky out.

“I promise, angel.”

You locked your pinky fingers and pecked once more, but you knew it was time to prepare yourself for the loneliness you shortly had to endure. You were going to miss Michael so bad that it drove you nuts—but his dread was a whole lot deeper. He didn’t know how to live without you, and shortly he’d have to learn how to. Again.

He walked you to the gate of his estate, Bill waiting by the car to take you home.

Michael informed you that the tour was going to start up in a couple of days, so you shared one last hug before having to leave him—and never knowing when you’ll see him again.

He opened the car door for you and gave you a hug, taking in one last whiff of your peach perfume. His body went limp into yours, and it was almost like you could feel his sadness. He interlocked his hands and rested his head on your shoulder while he hugged you, but when he pulled away, he was crying.

“Honey, don’t cry… you’re gonna make me cry again.” You giggle, taking your thumbs to swipe the tears from his face. You kissed his cheek and climbed in the back seat of the car, Bill starting the engine.

He smiled at you, getting a good look at you to cherish your beauty before you had to say goodbye.

“I love you, Michael.”

“I love you more than life, angel.”

He kissed your lips for the last time, and closed the car door.

You looked out of the back window, watching the love of your life wave his hand goodbye, tears still slowly streaming from his face. You blew him a kiss, and had no clue that this would be the last time you saw him for a long, long time.

4 YEARS LATER, 1979.

HEADLINES : MICHAEL JACKSON RELEASES FIFTH STUDIO ALBUM THROUGH EPIC RECORDS, OFF THE WALL.

“Marianna, you’re good to take your thirty.” You told your employee firmly, but lovingly. Four years later, and you were fresh out of college, working with your mother at her boutique. Your mother promoted you to the store manager pretty early on, so that meant you dealt with the conflict, the chaos, and everything in between. You hated having so much pressure on you all the time, but with your mother barely in the shop, all expectations fell on you.

You were happy to be doing something you loved, though. You felt free being done with school and pursuing your passion, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart sting every time you saw his name in the paper. Not only did he miss your high school graduation, the person you thought would come through for you one last time, didn’t even call when you graduated college. And you know he saw it, because your name and picture was on the news for getting top of your class.

Your body froze every time you heard his voice on the radio.

‘Four whole years’, you thought to yourself.

Four years, and nothing but radio silence from him.

A couple years ago, you and Michael made a pact. I mean, you kissed, and that had to have meant something. The promise you two made to each other, making sure to keep in touch no matter how busy you were–whether rain or shine, there were no exceptions.

You kept up your part. You called and called nonstop, even on the days you were swamped with school work. He never picked up on the other line, and even after that–you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. You just wished that he would’ve kept his promise, because no one in this world brought you the same peace like he did.

But it was clear he didn’t think that way anymore.

You used to assume the fame got to him like it did everyone else in the industry– but that wasn’t how your Michael was. Sure, he loved being recognized for his talents and charisma, but he would never, ever let any kind of fame or money get into that brain of his. He knew better than to let it consume him, because Michael’s biggest fear was becoming his father.

So when you found out about his solo album, for a couple days you started spiraling.

This was something the two of you had talked about for years, and all Michael ever talked about was branching out and finding something else to do that didn’t involve his family–and you never failed to listen. You wanted Michael to go solo, because his voice was something like the salt needing to be spread on an icy road, and no matter how much you encouraged him, he always turned the idea down because of his fears.

You cried–a lot. In a way you were proud of him for finally facing his fears and starting a new journey in his career, but on the other hand you were not only disappointed, but grieving someone who wasn’t even dead at the same time. You missed his touch, bad. His small gestures always felt so innocent and sweet–and that was your favorite thing. You enjoyed when his hands rested a little too long on top of yours, and how whenever you were too tired–he’d handwash your hair in the bathtub for you. Sometimes you lose hope, and in the back on your mind, you truly believe that man won’t come back to you–ever.

You saw yourself as a placeholder for the moment, and no matter how much you didn’t want to accept it, you had to. Michael was living a totally different life than you were–touring in almost every country, having such a wonderful and impactful talent–while you were still stuck. And the one that made you feel seen and heard, wasn’t seeing or hearing you. You felt played, because Michael never broke his promises with you–ever. You always got in your head about the situation, thinking he met another girl–but deep down, you knew he was too shy to branch out of his comfort zone.

You were his comfort zone.

You paced around the boutique, holding a handful of untailored dresses for your client to try on, when the exhausting ringing of the phone blared in your ears. It was going off all day–women calling to make appointments, customers complaining and badgering you because of the prices, and pesky little children who prank called every number they found in the phonebook. You rushed and ran to a rack to put the dresses down, and hated yourself for sending your employee on break too early.

You fixed your shirt, took a breath, and picked up the phone.

“Hello, and thank you for callin’ ‘Hurst Boutique’, how can I be of assistance today?”

“It’s you.” The caller on the other line whispered. You couldn't make out their voice, but your stomach was uneasy.

“I’m sorry? Who is this? Look, we’re really busy, so I don’t have time for–”

“It’s me… Michael.”

Your mouth went dry, and all of a sudden, you were at a loss for words. You were in shock that after all this time, the first phone call he’d make to you would be at your job, four years later. You felt your eye twitch out of anger, and a burst of rage entered your system.

“Wow,” You scoffed, sitting down in the office chair in front of you. “You got some nerve, Michael.”

“Pardon?”

“I said you got some nerve. You haven’t spoken to me in four years, for God sake.” You started, your leg now shaking uncontrollably. “Then you call my job? You're batshit crazy, Michael.”

“Please, you don’t have to curse. I-I’m sorry.” Michael pleaded, his voice cracking because of the pressure you put him under.

“You’re sorry, huh?”

“Very.”

“Not good enough.”

You got your last word and hung up the phone. You grabbed your dresses off of the rack behind you and walked to your clients room to do your job. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss hearing his voice again, but damn, did he hurt your heart. He was insane, thinking a simple apology was going to make up for the four years of no contact, and as much as you wanted to go off on him and argue on the phone all day–that was still your ‘little baby deer’. But now, you have to learn how to protect yourself, even from the one who’s supposed to protect you in the first place.

You had to get yourself together—you were at work. Your chest was aching, but letting people see that is the last thing you’d ever do. You walked your client through her tailoring, and tried to wrap up your day and head to your apartment.

You did all of your closing tasks, cleaning up the floor filled with strings and loose fabric, making sure the already tailored and ready clothes were good to send off to their owners tomorrow, and shutting everything down.

You were in the break room gathering your purse and keys, making sure to shut off the lights.

“Crazy day today, huh.” Marianna giggled, grabbing her purse to follow behind you.

“Tell me about it.” You replied, recalling the moment your childhood best friend stupidly tried to reach out to you. You suddenly realized you forgot to turn off the lights in your office, and turned on your heels.

The bell to your shop rang, signaling that someone opened the front door. You rolled your eyes, because anyone walking in clearly chose to ignore the closed sign. You shut off the lights, only to find a very stunned Marianna, and low and behold.

Michael Joseph Jackson.

“What the fuck.” Were the only words to escape your mouth. He was here, in front of you–staring at you with those doe eyes. Marianna’s mouth hung open, and she almost burst into tears seeing the popstar in real time.

“Holy shit! I-I’m such a big fan! Can I please, please have your autograph?” Marianna screamed, desperately looking for a piece of paper for him to write his signature on.

Michael snapped out of his trance, and grabbed the pen and paper from her.

“S’ no problem at all, h-here.” He said shyly, handing back the slip of paper to the shorter woman, and she ran out of the front door squealing like a little school girl.

“She’s funny.” Michael started.

You were pissed. Not only did he call you like it hasn’t been over years, he comes into your place of work like nothing happened between the two of you. Your sadness turned into anger, and anger turned into tears. You stared at Michael and his bodyguard behind him, and bursted into tears before him.

You stormed outside, slinging your purse on your shoulder. Your tears burned your skin so bad–you just wanted to get home. You heard the door’s bell chime, and heard footsteps chasing after you.

“Wait, please! I just–I just wanna talk to you, angel. Please!” He yelled. The streets were empty, so no one even heard his voice, but this only encouraged you to walk faster.

He didn’t deserve to call you that nickname anymore, and it hurt that it came to this.

Michael began to run, giving Bill a run for his money having to chase after him. He caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder, and your purse made contact with his chest. You didn’t mean to hit him, and he stumbled a bit. He held his stomach, and your instinct was to go in to comfort him.

You dropped your purse, and helped him stand up straight.

“Sorry.” You apologized, dusting off his shirt.

“No, no I deserved that.” He chuckled, grabbing your hand to come back inside your boutique. “Can’t leave without lockin’ the door, silly.” He reminded you, trying to soften the blow about popping up on you like this.

“Yeah, I guess.” You responded dryly, leading the way back into your shop. He let the door close behind him, and you went and locked the door. He sat in one of the chairs, and took a deep breath.

“I just wanna start with an ‘I’m sorry’”, Michael began, fiddling with his fingertips, and picking at a broken nail. “Is there anywhere we can go to talk?” His voice was still soft after these last couple of years, and it made it really hard to say no to him.

“Michael, I’ll give you five minutes. I gotta get home. You demanded, pointing your finger at him.

“That’s all I need, just let me explain. We can even go to your house, if it makes you feel better.”

You thought about it, and something was telling your body to pull away and tell him to get out, but when Michael pleaded, he pleaded. He had his hands together in a praying motion, begging you to hear him out.

“Fine.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER

You opened the door of your apartment, your older cat meowing in the distance. You turned on the lights, with Michael and Bill following behind you. Bill sat on your living room couch, and was so tired from running Michael around– that he was dozing off on your sofa. Your cat curled up next to him, purring as she rested her head on his thigh. You led Michael to your room, and sat your purse down.

“Talk, before I change my mind.” You demanded, sending a slight shiver down Michael’s spine. You were never this hostile with him, but under the circumstances, he knew that you had to be. His act was stupid and not like him at all, you were his best friend–and someone he loved more than anything.

“I know you’re mad that I haven’t reached out,” he started, testing the waters and grabbing your hand. You let him, and he used his thumb to rub circles on your knuckles. You looked down at his hand–it was even bigger than it used to be a couple years ago, and your hand seemed half the size of his.

“I was scared, and I’ll admit that I ran from you,” He admits, his voice getting a lot quieter than it was before. “I haven’t had time for anything, and with the tour, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to give you the attention you needed. I thought about you all the time, day and night.”

You examined his face. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyebrows were drooping. He actually looked like he was sad–and that every word he said was true.

“I didn’t wanna give up on us, angel. I just knew I couldn’t take care of you like you deserved.” He looked up at you with his prominent eyes, and you watched as tears formed in his sockets. You stared at him, and fully took his hand. You could hear his breathing stop for a second, his gaze locked onto you with no shame.

A teardrop fell. You knew he was being serious, because they continued to fall. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to retaliate, and the man was already crumbling in your presence. The only thing you could think about in the moment was how he was crying in front of you, and all you saw was the boy you once loved before.

“You’re really sorry?” You asked, taking your thumbs to swipe the tears away.

“I’m so, so sorry, angel. I’ll do anything to make it up to, I swear.” Michael pleaded.

“Anything?” You asked.

“Absolutely anything, yes ma’am.”

“Beg for my forgiveness, then.”

“P-pardon?” He stutters, scratching the back of his neck out of nervousness.

“Get on your knees, Michael. Beg me to give you another chance.” Your voice was firm, and it scared Michael like this.You weren’t like this back then, you honestly did whatever he said. This unlocked something Michael never knew he had in him.

And he dropped to his knees.

“L-like this?” He questioned, looking up at you with his tender eyes. He brought his hands together in a praying position, and began to plead. “Forgive me, honey. I was wrong.”

“More.”

“But,” Michael began.

“Do it for me, Michael. I don’t wanna have t’ ask you again.” You pressed him, lifting his chin up to look at you.

He smirked ever so slightly, and it was like something inside of him lit up. He took your hand from his chin, and planted kisses along the back of your palm. He stared at you while he did it, until he eventually came face to face with you.

“Forgive me, baby. C’mon, angel, please.” He whispered into your ear, leaning into your neck, leaving soft, wet kisses along your collarbone. “Let me show you how sorry I am, beautiful.”

This behavior was unusual for Michael, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. It gave your heart this sort of rush, and you could feel your heat pulsing between your legs. He grabbed the back of your neck to deepen his kisses, and you began to lose the plot. You were thinking about where he learned to kiss like this, but knowing him–it was just natural.

“Michael…” You gasped out, when tongue kissed you–hard. It felt like the muscles in your mouth were boxing, and Michael was winning. He walked you to your bed, gently catching your back to lay you down. You grabbed his jaw, practically pushing his face into yours. You spread your legs a little, allowing him to get between them. You felt how big he was through his slacks, and it made your pussy throb at the contact.

“Whatever you need me to do honey, I’ll do it.” He moans out. You're pulling on his shirt at this point, and even though you knew deep down he wasn’t the most confident, he sure was tonight. Luckily for the two of you, Bill passed out on your sofa while he was petting your kitten, and he couldn’t hear a thing.

“Get back on your knees, Michael. I never told you to get up.” You say, pushing him off of your body. You already missed the contact between the two of you–but he needed to give you a proper apology.

You stood up before him, and he fell to his knees again. He was staring at your legs in the shorts you were wearing, the smooth skin calling his name. He glanced at you, and you looked visibly turned on—yet sexually frustrated at the same time.

“Can I take these off, love?” Michael asks politely, but you didn’t answer. “Please?”

That’s all it took. You nodded, and he unbuttoned the buttons of your jean shorts, and unzipped them. He slowly slid them down your body, noticing the damp spot let in the seat of your panties. You had on these cute cotton ones, with a small, dainty bow on the front.

You got shy on him when he started to kiss your upper leg, slowly reaching your heat. Once he got to your panties, he bit down on the side of your panties, and pulled them down with his teeth.

Your panties pooled at your legs, and your pussy started to drip. He watched the wetness escaping to your thighs, and planted a kiss right on a wet spot.

“It tastes so sweet, angel.” He praised, licking at your thighs. He playfully bit at one of them at one point, earning a thump to his forehead.

“Baby… c’mon don’t tease.” You moaned, tugging at his hair.

“This is how I beg. You want me to beg, right?” He was such a fucking tease. You hated how he had you crumbling, when you were the one supposed to be in control.

“Yes—mm. Beg, Michael.” Your breath hitched.

Michael licked a stripe up your clit, and it sent shivers down your entire body. You gripped onto the sheets behind you, and since he had you standing, your legs immediately went limp.

He pushed his tongue further into your heat, and you grabbed his head. You used his head as a sex toy, massaging your pussy with the muscles of his tongue. For someone who never ate any kind of pussy before, he was tearing your shit up.

He was groaning inside of it, slurping every ounce of cum out of your body.

Then he stopped.

“Mikey… why’d you stop, baby?” You groaned, your legs quivering at the disconnection.

“I wanna be inside, my love. Please, baby. Please.” He begged, back on his knees in front of you. He rubbed on your legs, leaving sloppy kisses all the way down to your feet. He was the only man you knew who would treat your body with such love and care, and that was the only reason you were forgiving him right now.

You were scared, though. You hadn’t told Michael that you were still a virgin. You honestly figured he would know what to do, and that he would take over–but truth is, Michael was too. No matter how dirty he talked in your ear, or how sloppy he ate your pussy—he hadn’t had sex with anyone, even after all these years.

“Michael, I got somethin’ to tell you, baby.” You whispered, his eyes looking up at you and standing to approach your face.

“You can always talk to me, angel. Was it too much? I can tone it down a bit, I’m sorry.” He implored, bringing you in close to help comfort you as much as he could. He was so scared of hurting you, and would hate himself if it ever got to that point again.

“No, no… you’re doin’ great, Mikey.” I’m just… I dunno, nervous?” You chuckled, stroking his jaw. He changed so much since you’d seen him a couple of years ago. His jawline was more defined, and you could tell how much he was growing into an adult. He looked so mature— the two of you weren’t teenagers anymore. This was something you two talked about when you were younger, and how “gross” it was, but it was honestly such a beautiful feeling with Michael willing to please you.’

“We don’t have to keep goin’ if you don’t want to, beautiful.” He said, kissing your forehead. He combed through your hair and rubbed circles on your back.

“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t gone all the way before.” Michael said to you, playing with your fingers. It looked like it took everything in him to admit that, and you saw the slight embarrassed expression on his face. You cupped his jaw, and he avoided eye contact with you.

“Me neither.”

The two of you giggled softly, and as the sound of it wore off, it got serious.

“If I’m bein’ honest, I was savin’ myself for you.” Michael confessed.

You thought about all the times you thought about Michael these past couple of years, and no matter how mad he made you, when you watched his performances and saw that face, you couldn’t shake the fact that not only were you still in love with him, you were still very, very attracted to him and his every move. The way he thrusted his hips on stage, the way he danced effortlessly, and sang with so much passion–it made your whole body tingle.

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t savin’ myself, too.” You said.

“I’ll try my best to make it worth it then, girl.” Michael sneered, pecking at your lips before fully going in for a deep, loving kiss.

“Do you…keep condoms or anything here?” He asked you, now fully on top of your body, between your legs again.

“No condoms, but–mmm, I’m on the pill.” You moaned out, grabbing at his shoulders.

“We should be good then, right baby?” Michael teased, moving his kisses further down your neck, leaving a small hickey right above your collarbone. Michael was being bold, and you remembered how you still needed to put him in his place.

“Sit against the headboard, Michael.” You demanded, looking into his eyes with pure seduction. HIs eyes were filled with lust, and you saw the tiniest smirk creep on his face.

“Yes ma’am.”

Michael stood up, and slowly let his pants and boxers drop to the floor. He sat against the headboard like you asked, and you slowly took off his plain white t-shirt, exposing his chest. You could tell he was a little nervous about the whole situation, because he wrapped his arms on his chest, hiding himself from you in a way. His body was gorgeous, and you wanted to kiss every single inch of him if you knew it would make him feel better about himself.

You put his hands down and placed a kiss on his cheek, and proceeded to do what you needed to do, and that was to please the both of you.

Your panties were already down from earlier, and the cool air still left shivers on your heat. You arched your back a little, tugging at his blue jeans. You pulled them down along with his boxers, and threw them off your bed and onto your hardwood floor. You straddled him, and he automatically rested his hands on your hips. Before you slid his cock inside, you just wanted to take a chance to admire him. You looked at his face, and smiled. You missed having him around, even if it meant holding a tiny grudge for a while.

You knew it would wear off soon.

You kissed his forehead, and touched his shaft. He shivered immediately, his face scrunching at the contact.

“You okay, Mikey?” You asked, your voice laced with enticement. He tried to keep himself together, but you could see how easily he would be able to collapse under your grasp.

“Mhm.. jus’--it feels good.” Michael murmured, rubbing along the fat of your ass as you teased him. You saw how hard he was, and by the looks of it, you were in for it. Michael was sitting at a mean nine, and having no prior experience, you were nervous as hell. Of course you knew how to pleasure yourself, but that was nothing compared to what he had attached to him.

You gently stroked him, watching as he closed his eyes to focus on the pleasure. His grip on your ass was firmer, and you couldn’t hold back the quiet moan that escaped your mouth when you felt his soft hands rub on it.

“You ready, handsome?” You tittered, your laugh barely above a whisper.

Michael nodded his head, his eyebrows furrowing a little. He was so turned on.

You took a deep breath, lifted your hips, and grabbed at his dick. You slowly inserted the length inside yourself, and the connecting between the two of you felt like heaven. You were slow at putting it inside at first, simply because of the stretch. It was uncomfortable at first, but when Michael held onto you like he did, you had faith in yourself.

“Aghh…mm. Shit, mama.” Michael groaned, slightly thrusting his hips, trying to get every inch of himself inside your body. He wanted to do nothing but be intertwined with you, feeling every centimeter of your walls around his shaft.

You threw your head back at the feeling, and Michael buried his head in your chest. He was so overwhelmed with the sensation of thrusting inside of your body, feeling like he was as close as he could get with you.

You rocked back and forth against him, shuddering at the many, many, foreign inches inside of your pussy. You both were chasing your high, the sound of your skin and ass slapping against his hips–it was sexy, honestly.

“This… nghhh, mm–fuck. You are so… so worth it, girl. Feels s’ good.” He cried out, as he latched his mouth to your left breast. He took his hand and massaged your right one, leaving you a wet, moaning mess.

“Tell me you’re–fuck, sorry again, Michael… Nd’ maybe I’ll let you to cum.” You say, gazing at him. Your eyes were low, and you didn’t need a mirror to know you looked fucked out. Michael was destroying you, but you needed to maintain your power. He whimpered at your demands, and stared at you with those puppy dog eyes that you loved so much.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Shit… baby, I promise. Y’ gonna make me cum talkin’ like that.” He cried out once again, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then you saw them.

The tears started back up in Michael’s eyes. These tears weren’t from sadness though, they were from ecstacy. You felt so good taking him, that it brought him to tears, and you found it to be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“That good, huh, baby?” Your voice was laced with a condescending tone, and you took his hands from off of your hips. You held them tightly, and sped up your pace on his lap. You were holding back on how loud you wanted to be, in fear of letting Michael think you weren’t in control anymore.

His whimpers grew louder and louder, and the sounds made by the two of you gradually got more aggressive. You were bouncing on him at this point, and you both were slowly reaching your climaxes.

“I’ll never… ever leave you again, angel. Oh God, baby…mm. Gonna cum.” He continued to groan in your ear, and he squeezed your hand tighter. You never thought in a million years that you’d be in this position, holding hands with the one you loved while he pummeled you with a cock so long it damn near reached your cervix.

A couple seconds later, you felt your stomach twist into knots. You and Michael went silent, focused on keeping the rhythm so you two could cum together, and it worked better than expected. You were so lucky that you were consistent with your birth control, because Michael made no efforts at pulling out. He let all of him spill inside of you, and the uncontrollable shaking of your legs was enough for him to bring you in and hold you.

TEN MINUTES LATER

“I feel so embarrassed, crying like that,” Michael started, letting out a dry chuckle. It had been a couple minutes since the two of you came, and he held you close to him while he brushed through the locks of your hair. Just like most say, the “after-fuck” glow was real. Michael seemed so much shinier, and his afro was the slightest bit frizzy. Even then, he was breathtaking.

“Why, baby? You couldn’t tell I was into it? It made it better.” You reassured, rubbing on his bare chest.

“The feelin’ was so indescribable, I guess it just brought me to tears,” He admitted, while yawning at the same time. “I jus’ really hope Bill didn’t hear us.”

The two of you laughed, because Bill had been fast asleep for the longest. You could hear his loud, bear-like snores in your living room, which was fine with you. He better have got comfortable, because Michael was staying with you for the night. You didn’t want him leaving your side right now, and deep down you knew he didn’t want to lose sight of you again.

You made sure of it.

“I’m gonna make up for all the time I cost you, love.” Michael tells you, kissing your temple.

“You better.” You said laughing, melting into his arms.

“It’s crazy, because I sent you letters not even knowin’ you moved here. Thought you were gonna be at your mother’s house forever.” He joked, earning a soft punch to his forearm.

You rolled your eyes and got back comfortable, your body slowly going limp.

Then he started.

“Ben, the two of need look no more,”

“We both found what we were lookin’ for…”

You were drifting off to sleep, while you listened to his soft voice sing. It felt like old times again, and having the man you loved so much back in your life, meant you could feel brand new for new good. You knew he had a lot more to make up to you–but this was a start.