Decided to organize my writings so far! Creating a banner for them next but enjoy!
✨Off The Wall Era
Rock With You
Will likely be my longest story.
In the spring of 1979, Lena working at Pepsi as one of their youngest and rising copywriters meets Michael as a client. Of course she’s internally excited to be working with the Jacksons, but externally she has to remain professional because there’s no way he could be interested right? Each chapter will have a song as the title and I do recommend you listen to it while reading, I write the chapters to the music so you get a 360 feel. Slow Burn. Smut. Minors DNI.
Chapter 1 - Move On Up
Chapter 2 - We Are Family
Chapter 3 - Lovely Day
Chapter 4 - Don’t You Worry Bout A Thing
Chapter 5 - Love to Love You Baby
Chapter 6 pt1 - California Soul
Chapter 6 pt 2 - Rock With You
Chapter 7 pt 1 - Summer Madness
Chapter 7 pf 2-If It Were Left Up To Me
Chapter 8 — It’s The Falling In Love
Chapter 9 — Too Shy To Say
Chapter 10 - I Love Music
Chapter 11 - Young, Gifted and Black
Chapter 12 pt 1 - Rock Steady
Chapter 12 pt 2 - Adventures in Paradise
Chapter 13 — Shining Star
Chapter 14 - Ain’t No Stopping Us Now
Chapter 15 - Native New Yorker
Chapter 16 pt 1 - Sir Duke
Chapter 16 pt 2 - Ebony Eyes
Chapter 17 - I Want Your Love
Chapter 18 pt 1 - Zombie
Chapter 18 pt 2 - Summer Fever
Chapter 19 - Inside My Love
Chapter 20 - For The Love Of You
Chapter 21 - Sunset and the Mocking Bird
Chapter 22 - Solitude
Chapter 23 - The Memory
Chapter 24 part 1 - Daylight
Chapter 24 part 2 - I Only Have Eyes For You
Chapter 25 - Knocks Me Off My Feet
Chapter 26 part 1 - Could It Be I’m Falling In Love
Chapter 26 part 2 - Breezin'
Chapter 27 - I Can't Help It
Chapter 28 - Everybody Loves The Sunshine
Chapter 29 part 1 - Mystic Brew
Chapter 29 Part 2 - Searching
Chapter 30 - Only You
Chapter 31 part 1 - Boogie Nights
Chapter 31 part 2 - Disco Inferno
Chapter 32 - Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough
Chapter 33 - Jive Talkin
Chapter 34 - Love's Holiday
Chapter 35 part 1 - Workin' Day and Night
Chapter 35 part 2 - Off The Wall
Chapter 36 - Girlfriend
Chapter 37 part 1 - Nothing From Nothing
Chapter 37 part 2 - Let Your Feelings Show
Break of Dawn 🌙
Started off as a one shot but continuing it!
Mature Mike: Invincible era 🙂↔️😏
Content: tabloids being shitty, black x plus size character, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetration, MJ being a soft dom if you squint. Minors DNI
Chapter 1 - Break Of Dawn
Chapter 2 - He Loves Me
Chapter 3 - Right Here
Chapter 4 pt 1 — Love Calls
Chapter 4 pt 2 - Break of Dawn (Acapella)
Chapter 5 - Caught Up In The Rapture Of Love
Not His Type
Thriller era: A curvy woman producer, her desire to become a producer and a studio session she won't forget. Minors DNI
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Synopsis: You are Michael Jackson's young maid, and he's had a thirst for you as of late...
Warnings. Smut and mature vampire Michael. Breeding, blood-sucking, dirty talk, maid turned into mate/lover.
Word count: 4,759
Supposed to take place late 90s-early 2000s
(y'all gonna be eating good tonightttttt)
It was a very cliché, dark, and rainy night. So much so that the nasty weather caused all of master jackson’s electricity to be completely knocked out. As you knew the drill, you lit his favorite evergreen candles. The fresh and clean aroma filled his mansion, cascading throughout the home. The candles sat on his oakwood altar that resided in the west wing, where he stayed during stormy days like this. He enjoyed listening to the rain pitter-pattering against the windowsill. While he sat on his red suede chair, he would create beats in his head and mutter lyrics as the rain came down, a man who was a reincarnation of rhythm. This time, he was not sitting; he was nowhere to be found. You felt uneasy if he wasn’t there, like he could be watching you as you bend into uncomfortable positions. Although you knew where he most likely was- feeding. Or trying to. As he was on tour, he would get more exhausted more quickly. Doing all of those elaborate dance moves made his hunger intensify. For him, it was painful, like his head started to thump and his body started to twitch and spasm. Especially after his Pepsi commercial accident, his body has needed more sustenance just to feel “normal.” No one quite knows his secret of being a vampire, but he told you. He felt incredibly lonely holding in the secret for so long. So much so that his voice was softer with you than usual, as if he was preparing you for something with his softness. The night that he confessed to you his secret, there was so much desperation within him for you to understand what was really going on inside his mind. You remembered it like it was yesterday…
“Y/N..”
He called your name softly; his voice lingered in your mind like the smoke of incense lingered through the air. He called out to you through one of the intercoms he had littered throughout the large Neverland Ranch.
“Y/N… Can you come to the… uh.. the-.. the tea room.. please?
I’ll be in there with bubbles. Just.. Just…come quickly.”
His voice was an urgent pinging, like a ringing in your ears as the static crackled over the speakers. You licked your lips as you had prepared to speak back into the intercom. You were preparing his bed before he went to sleep. He had an early morning meeting with Barbara Walters. You hated her interviewing style, but he agreed to interview with her amidst the allegations, showing her around the Neverland Ranch.
“Oh, okay, Michael. I-… I’ll be right down.”
After you got off the intercom, you fluffed his pillows rather quickly so you could make it downstairs before Michael got too antsy. Oftentimes, he would just find you. For some reason, you could never hear him as he entered a room. It was as if he were levitating or hovering over the marble floors.
You made your way down the stairs, rubbing your hands together in anticipation. So excited to hear you and Michael’s favorite film playing in the background.
“Singing in the rain,” you spoke softly to yourself as you gladly skipped downstairs. Your fingers glided effortlessly down the banister as you moved down.
You finally met with Michael, his tall and lean body was sprawled over the red and black loveseat.
As soon as he saw you enter, he sat up quickly and positioned himself in a way that gave you the room to sit down next to him.
Once you saw him, though, you leaned up against the doorframe, allowing your round hip to hold yourself up.
“Michael, is that our movie? And where’s bubbles? You said he’d be down with you.”
He nodded and chuckled the breathy chuckle he does. All of those perfect white teeth were shown to you. His deep dimples in the corners of his lips began to deepen as his smile tugged.
“Yeah, I-… he couldn’t make it… he had a previous engagement with a banana. And yes, I thought the movie would be a nice buffer for..”
He trailed off, looking shyly away from you. He covered his face with his large hand and smiled as he stood up, coming towards you. He slowly put his hand out, reaching for you.”
“For what? Michael, you're scaring me.”
He genuinely looked as if he was trying to ease his own nerves so he could muster up the courage to tell you his dying secret.
You hesitantly took his hand and slowly walked you over to his loveseat, where he sat you down on the seat, then gently grabbed your hand, sitting on the floor with his knee propped up, as if he were proposing.
Michael licks his lips and huffs in a deep breath; it’s very shaky and hesitant. It was as if he wasn’t ready, mustering up the courage to speak yet.
“Do you remember those… those IV bags that I ordered? All that silly medical stuff? like you called it?”
“Well… yes, I do.. What about that stuff? Did you lose it? I told you I put them in the spa.”
Your eyes rolled, totally sure of yourself, he lost them, and he was about to blame it on you, like he’d done once before.
“No no.. heh.. that’s.. that’s not it.. I was… using them.. for sustenance… to satiate my hunger… they were full of… a fluid. Blood…I need blood to keep myself full, or else… I can’t perform. I get all… woozy… You understand?
“Michael… what are you saying? Are you?… a…”
Michael nodded, knowing exactly what you were about to say. He had his glasses on, so you couldn’t see where he was looking. You couldn’t see that he was searching for what you thought about in it within the wrinkles on your face. He adjusted his shades and turned away as he kept his large hand holding your delicate hand.
“Yes, look-… look it's kind of cool..”
He opened his mouth, pulling his cheek back with his index finger, and chuckled at your reaction, giving you a smirk, showing off all of his perfect, white teeth. Only now, his canines are sharpened, pointy, and shiny at this point.
He flashed his teeth, and you opened your eyes wide, your head went blank, and the room got spinny. Suddenly, you fell short of breath and slumped your head on the loveseat, dramatically passing out from the sight of those fangs. He placed his hands over his mouth and watched as you sank down into the seat.
When the cold sweat began to appear across your forehead, he gently wiped your forehead with his handkerchief. Your curls are now stuck to your forehead with sweat appearing. Suddenly, he began to stare down at your bare neck.
His mouth was practically salivating as he gently grazed his slender, elegant fingers across your lovely clavicle.
“Um, Y/N? Are you okay?”
He spoke as he leaned down, pressing his head against your heaving chest, listening intently to your steady heartbeat. You could still feel his cool, minty breath against your cheek and neck.
Once you opened your eyes, his lips were parted, uncovering his two large, pointy fangs, ready to sink his teeth into you. You felt his weight shift closer to you.
Your eyes flickered open to see him ready to taste you.
You placed a gentle smack against his hollow cheek, snapping him out of his own little trance with your smooth caramel neck.
He chuckled lightly and tilted his head back, playfully, holding onto his sides.
“Oh, c’mon. I was just kiddin’. I knew you’d wake up.”
“Michael! Don’t be jokin’ like that. You scared me half to death.”
He smirked and sat up on the loveseat next to you. He seemed paler than usual, looser, or more woozy, it seems. It was as if he had taken some kind of sedative to make him relax, but the reality was more jarring; he needed to feed, and he had another show in 2 days. Oftentimes, he would still be out of town, preparing every step, preparing every spotlight to flash perfectly on his body, preparing every costume to fit him perfectly, and creasing in every perfectly articulated move. Seeing this superstar, who is the king to many and an unattainable thought to most, was sitting right in front of you, feeling a certain desperation or pining you felt radiating from him. Feeling he wanted to ease you into something… he was trying to warm you up to an idea. He still had his glasses on, so you couldn’t see exactly where his eyes would lie on your body.
Mostly on your cleavage peeking through your insatiable red blouse. He was circling the way your hard nipples began to point underneath your thin blouse. He wondered if it was possibly too cold in here for you. He started to sit up and opened his mouth to ask, but your staring… your stares reeled him back into the moment. The tension at this point was building as ‘singin’ in the rain’ came to a close in the background. The movie, now a distant memory for another time, another planned movie night that would have been between you and Michael. Although this was turning into something different entirely. You caught Michael staring in your general direction after he stopped his chuckle. You were serious as always, tilting your head to the side, trying to get a read on him.
Those big aviator shades were in the way, obstructing his gorgeous doe eyes. The eyes that you could not look away from, the eyes that would reel any man or woman in, to understand the soul behind them. That is exactly what he didn’t want you to see or witness. That’s why he wore those godforsaken things; You. Could. Not. Stand. Them. So, you reached up, slowly, so he could take in what you were beginning to do. You would give a slight nod to him, a signal that it was okay. His large hand reached up to stroke your little wrist as you slowly pulled his glasses off. A gesture that confirmed he was okay with it. A gesture that confirmed it was time for you to finally see inside his soul.
“Michael… You shouldn’t keep hiding those beautiful eyes from me. I only see you around the ranch for so little time… at least lemme see you… truly see you…”
“Y’know how I feel about you lookin’ in my eyes… I don’t want you to know what I’m thinkin’.”
“And why shouldn’t I know what you’re thinkin’? What you hidin’ from me?”
What you didn’t know was that he needed something from you. this intimate feeling of seeing his eyes after months, feeling his minty and icy breath against your neck once again, made you close your eyes. His breathing was ragged. A gruff and manly panting as he felt something grow underneath his black jeans.
The area around his groin started to grow warmer and warmer. Noting his length was getting hungry for stimulation.
“I’m hiding… that I want you.. Y’know I need you… You need to be with me… not with that other guy… and don't deny it. I heard you on the phone with him earlier… Y’know, he won’t give you all the pretty things like I can. Nothin’ as pretty as a pretty young thing like you. Do you understand?”
“Michael… You know it wouldn’t work-..”
He pressed his own finger up to those sensual lips that have sung your favorite song time and time again, over and over again on the stage.
“Shh… let me make you feel good tonight… and see how you feel after that… I bet you’ll be thinking about it… while touching yourself…”
He whispered against your ear. A little giggle escaped his lips. He couldn’t believe he would say such a thing. “Yearning for someone makes you do crazy things,” he thought in his head. His glossed lips grazed over your earlobe, allowing you to feel his soft, warm, wet bottom lip. Goosebumps littered over your willing body, your breathing became shallow, and your mouth gaped in shock. He noticed this and leaned down, pressing soft, gentle, almost teasing kisses across your neck, cheek, and clavicle as well.
The kisses turned into soft laps with the tip of his tongue, tasting the cocoa butter you had spread across your silky skin after your shower, before he arrived at the ranch. He inhaled deeply while slowly tracing his soft and large hand across your thick thigh. He slowly pushed his hand underneath your skirt, feeling your warm and smooth skin.
“Can I? Can I move it higher up? Should I stop?”
He says, almost begging. He sounds so meek and adorable, waiting for your consent.
“If you let me… don’t be surprised if I get a little bit rough… I can do that sometimes when it feels really good…”
“You’ve been so good michael, did so well with the concert… I think you deserve to feel good… I know you deserve to feel good…let me help make you feel good.”
You would say gently to him, in the same meek register. You slowly pulled his hand up to your lips, teasing his middle finger with your tongue and your luscious bottom lip. You both exchanged soft glances, peeking at each other through your eyelashes. He gave a slight nod, slowly pulling his hand from your lips. Suddenly, slipping his hand high up your inner thigh, pushing your lace red panties to the side, allowing his cool fingers to invade your warm mound. He softly massaged your crotch, allowing you to unwind and relax as he kissed your neck and softly licked it. A soft groan escaped your lips, subconsciously nodding in assurance that this is where you were supposed to be.
“Does that feel good for you? You like it when I tease? … you feel how eager my tongue is, don't you?”
“Yes michael… that feels so… good… your tongue is-...”
Before you knew it, the licking at your cheek stopped. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, hearing a soft “whoosh” and feeling a chill against your lower body, your lacy panties now around your ankles, your legs have been pushed up against your chest.
He had somehow used your being in a trance to go between your legs stealthily. The smooth criminal. He chuckled as he heard your gasp, feeling his hot and thick tongue slowly slinking over your warm and wet slit, making you arch deeply.
“Ah… oh god… Michael..’”
He looks up at you from underneath his lashes, slowly slipping his tongue up from the bottom of your needy hole, all the way to the top of your throbbing clit. Once he finds it, it’s over. He swirls his entire perfect tongue around your button, allowing your hole to leak more intensely from this violation. He groaned and hummed a familiar song against your hungry pussy, vibrating like a toy beneath you. The stimulation was already overwhelming, but knowing who was doing this stimulation made it harder to contain yourself. Your hips would buck and thrust into his mouth, listening to his seductive, low humming, hearing his real voice between your legs.
“Mm.. so wet f’ me… I know you don’t get this wet for wassaname? I bet you don’t even remember his name… I’ll help you forget, sweetface.”
He chuckles upon hearing his own cocky words spilling from his own lips. His voice was low and barely past a whisper. Your hand slips down into his hair, gently stroking his loose curls as he slowly traces his middle finger over your clit. Moving it in rhymic circles, paying close attention to your face. His smile never left his lips as he slowly circled your clit, watching how you reacted and behaved so well to his touch. Moving back down, he placed his lips back onto your clit, sucking at it gently, moving his middle finger to your aching hole. His hips rocked against the cushions on the loveseat, trying to hide how needy he was as well. He humped against the cushions, trying to satisfy his aching length somehow. His long and slender finger invaded your tight and wet hole, slowly thrusting his single finger over… and over… and over again. Wanting the pressure to build so you’d only want one thing.
“That feel good? You like being filled up? You look so gorgeous… coming undone f’ me. Damn, sweetface.. get my fingers all messy for me, go ahead.”
“Ngh… mikey.. I’m about to.. fuck.. take off your pants.. please.. I need you… I need it… please f-fuck me.”
He exhaled while smiling, lightly showing that your words made him flustered. Despite this, he leaned up, angling himself to completely make a mess of you. He gently lifts your lower body up and slowly pulls the skirt down, allowing it to settle and pool between your ankles. You cannot stress how gentle he is with you, even placing one of the throw pillows behind your delicate head while he plants one knee on the seat and the other foot planted on his marble floor. He slowly unzipped his jeans, watching how antsy you got, adding dramatic effects. Michael loved being dramatic, and it made you chuckle as you watched. The sound of his belt buckle unhooking was so satisfying; it seemed to echo in your ears. His briefs were barely containing his dick as it was begging to be let out. The fabric was so stretched you could practically see through his briefs.
“You see what you do t’ me? Hm? Look at this…”
You were speechless. You looked up at his dick just as he instructed you to. You couldn’t believe the size, or could you? The length was at least 9 inches, and the width was thick like a tree’s trunk. You moaned at the sight. You had to get a taste. You leaned up to him, and he giggled at your eagerness to taste his flesh. You reminded him a lot of himself.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You want a taste of me? Mm... I can tell baby… get you a taste before I get to work, lovely.”
You were already on it. You looked up at him through your lashes as you arched your back and pushed your small, wet tongue against his base. Making him release a soft hiss under his breath. His large hand immediately goes straight to your head, caressing and running his fingers over your moisturized curls. He loved your curly hair; it added character, he thought.
He gazed back down into your large, beautiful eyes as you gazed into his. You wrapped your hands the best you could around his length, stroking slowly as you stared. Your tongue suddenly found his tip, already leaking with his potent precum. He watched you licking it clean thoroughly. He groaned and yanked your hair taut as he slowly pushed you back down onto the loveseat.
“You drive me crazy, y’know that? You’re so nasty, how nasty do you get, huh?”
“I can show you… I WILL show you… c’mon... just fuck me mike… please..”
He loved it when you begged. He slowly leaned down, holding himself up with his hand, setting it on the arm of the loveseat. He used his free hand to guide his now slick length to your sopping slit, teasing you slowly. He traced his leaking tip against your pulsing nub, moving his firm and thick tip in a rhythmic circle. Your pussy pulsed intensely as you bucked against him more.
“Take your pretty blouse off, baby… let me see whats underneath, okay? I need to please every part of you, sweetface.”
He didn’t have to tell you twice. Quickly, you unbuttoned your frilly, red blouse, low-cut, just to show a bit of cleavage, showing Michael what assets you possessed. You would always make it hard for him to function around you. Fully unbuttoned, you displayed your bare chest to him, your body presented and vulnerable for him to stare at. Once he snapped himself out of his daze, he had to wipe his mouth with his palm. He was so deep into your body, how willing you were, that he was drooling, seeing your gorgeous flesh. His vampire side was beginning to take over; he had to retract that feeling and snap out of it.
“You look s’ good. You ready for me? You want me, princess? Give me a nod.”
You nodded quickly and pulled him down to your lips by his collar. Your lips were practically twitching to be against his. Finally, your plump lips enveloped him into a soft and passionate kiss. His tongue wrestles with yours; overall, your tongue won in dominance. Maybe you were just as hungry for him as he was for you. He gently held your face and caressed your jaw, his large hand landing on your throat. Showing you he was beginning to get a little rougher, just as he warned he would. Kissing was Michael’s favorite. Once he got started, he couldn’t stop til he got enough. He sucked your tongue gently, making you stick it out for him, your saliva mixing together and dripping down onto your bare nipple. Noticing this quickly, he leaned down, slowly lapping up the saliva. These licks turned into gentle sucking. You could feel his warm fangs against your nipple, teasing. You were sure he was going to sink his teeth in, but never did. Only teasing the tip of his fang around your areola. He loved seeing you on edge; he felt your breath hitch and prepare for it too. Michael finally had enough, pressing his large palm into your stomach. He didn’t even need his hand to guide himself inside you; he was that hard. All for you. He pressed his tip up against your tight hole and moved his hips in a slow and addictive pattern. One trust forward, and his thick tip wouldn’t go past your hole. He covered his face in embarrassment.
“Aw geez… Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I’m gonna have to… stretch you. It’ll hurt just a little bit… but I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay? You think you can take it, princess?”
“Yes michael, just.. uh… here… I’ll get closer baby…”
He watched as you pressed into his crotch, practically pulling his dick to your hole with your smaller hand. The resistance was hard to ignore, but finally, he gave you some help. inch after inch, he would push himself deeper and deeper. He held his hand on your lower stomach so he could feel himself enter. Slowly, the pressure inside your pussy grew. All you could do is moan and whimper as his low groans infiltrated the tea room. He only pushed in four inches to see how you would take it, making sure it was pleasurable for you. Slowly, he started to thrust. His hips moved quickly but firm, at least for now. The lewd noises of your wetness only excited him more. Making him forget the promise he made himself of only four inches. He started to increase to five, six, seven, eight, all the way up to nine. He was digging in you, deep. He slipped his hand down your sweaty body, rubbing your begging clit. It was calling for him. He had to answer that call. He collected saliva in his mouth and allowed his spit to drip down between you two, right on top of your love button.
“Mikey, you’re so nasty… fuck, I want you to give it to me… Give it to me… show me who’s bad..”
He threw his head back and chuckled. He sat up straight once more while shaking his head. You just smiled mischievously, just as Michael was tracing his hand back up to your throat. Slowly, beginning to lightly squeeze your delicate throat once again. Michael ignored the resistance your tight pussy was giving him. He pushed his dick deeper and deeper, feeling your limits. pushing you to them.
“I’ll show you whos bad… you’ll see… just keep making those sweet noises for me… just gorgeous… I’m addicted to you.”
He sped up, his voice started to break, his hips rocked harder, slamming deeper into you. His moans sounded like a melody in your ears, as if he were creating a song in his head as you two were doing this unholy act. He slammed all the way inside, just watching your breasts jump from his thrusts. His mouth twisted, showing you that he was focused on making you feel good, not caring about the developing cramp in his calf. The pleasure between the two of you made it impossible for him to contain himself. Quickly, he leaned down to you, kissing your lips and swirling his smooth tongue with yours as he felt himself getting closer. He moved his fingers from your throat and grabbed your abdomen, holding you up, allowing him to plant his seed deep inside.
“Michael… G-God I’m…”
“I know prin’cess just ride it… just ride it out… I’m almost there too I’m almost…”
As soon as he said that, he let it out. Releasing his thick, potent cum into you. He couldn’t help himself; he just couldn’t stop. He leaned down to you, thrusting faster and faster. His firm thrusts became sloppy and less choreographed. They became primal. He slunk his head down into the crook of your neck, sucking, kissing, and tracing his nose down the curve of your soft, supple neck.
Finally, you couldn’t take it. The mess between you two made it harder to keep your composure. It was so slick, so wet, so filthy, you finally let go and moaned out loudly, gripping onto Michael’s sequined blazer, arching your back forward. Once he saw you were distracted and using his length to ride out your eye-rolling orgasm, he slowly leaned down. At first, he circles the tip of his nose into the side of your neck, noting exactly where he wants to mark you.
Rather quickly, just so you wouldn’t be in any pain, he protracted his two fangs deep into your neck, moaning deep and low as he sucked your crimson blood. His brows furrowed in plain hunger that he felt for your warm and tasty blood. He needed it; you could feel his dick twitching as he drank from you. He made sure not to puncture you to the point where you could bleed out, but just enough for him to taste you. Your eyes were rolled back in pure ecstasy, not even minding, if anything at this point, you loved the pain he placed upon you. You knew what this was for-… to keep Michael healthy and well for his concert coming up. It soon turned into pleasure. At last, he got his fill and retracted his fangs from your beautiful neck, now showcasing two shallow holes on the right side. A marking that you were now his.
“I hope you weren’t thinking about going back to… doesn’t matter… he’s history…you’re mine… alllll mine…”
He sang that last part to you sweetly, thinking it would soften the blow of you now being bitten. You were now his mate, and did you truly mind?
Your head rose up, staring deep into his eyes, noticing they had a red hue to them. Once he noticed you saw, they turned back into their beautiful dark brown color, searching your eyes for what you thought.
“They get that way when I’m… satisfied… sorry…”
“Don’t apologize. I-… I wouldn’t have it any other way…”
You two ended your passionate lovemaking with a soft kiss. Michael switched positions with you, gently rolling you over and switching spots, now lying in your old spot on the loveseat.
He relaxed his back against it, allowing his head to rest on the arm of the loveseat as he gently placed your head over his chest.
Allowing you to listen to his fast heartbeat, beginning to finally slow down.
He kissed your forehead and gently massaged your breasts, having his arm hooked around you. You could tell he was beginning to doze off as his breathing slowed. Michael, now with you wrapped in his long arms.
“Michael? You sleep?”
He nods, letting out a soft exhale, and pulls the weighted blanket up over your body and his. Beginning to fall asleep with you, tightly holding you like his favorite teddy bear.
Here’s Break of Dawn. Let me know if you want a part 2
Mature Mike: Invincible era 🙂↔️😏
Content: tabloids being shitty, black x plus size character, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetration, MJ being a soft dom if you squint.
Break of Dawn 🌙
MJ’s latest fling too big for him?
Like ’em bigger, Mike?
Inside Camille’s diet struggles
Camille loved being with Michael. He was truly the love of her life. He showered her with affection constantly — soft kisses against her temple before work, long phone calls when he traveled, surprise gifts left on her pillow just because he’d thought of her. Loving him came easy.
She fucking hated the paparazzi and tabloids though.
If she could legally burn down every magazine company and fight every journalist whose only goal seemed to be tearing down her man and her body, she would.
Why the fuck was her body such a controversial topic?
God forbid a woman wasn’t a size two, there’s nothing wrong with being a size two or a size eighteen like she was. Camille loved her body, her plushness, her curves, the softness of her stomach, the fullness of her thighs, but the media wasn’t always so kind.
By the time she walked into the apartment she shared with Michael, frustration sat heavy in her chest.
“Do you think Michael will leave you for the model he was seen with recently?”
“Are you trying to lose weight for him?”
“Does Michael prefer thinner women?”
“How does it feel being the biggest woman he’s dated?”
The questions buzzed around her head like flies.
She kicked off her heels near the door and peeled her dress off as she walked toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of fabric behind her across the hardwood floor. The apartment smelled faintly of Michael’s cologne and the lavender candles he loved burning at night, but even that wasn’t enough to soothe her mood.
Standing in front of the mirror now in only a dark purple bra and matching satin panties trimmed with black lace, Camille stared at herself quietly.
The warm bedroom lighting kissed against her brown skin, highlighting every curve of her body. Her hands drifted absentmindedly across her soft thighs before tracing the silver stretch marks decorating her hips like little lightning strikes. Some of the comments she’d heard throughout the day came rushing back to her mind.
Too big. Too thick. Too much.
She didn’t allow those words to penetrate her self-worth too deeply. She loved herself too much for that.
Still… some days the words hurt.
So preoccupied with her thoughts, she didn’t hear Michael enter the apartment calling her name softly. He followed the discarded clothing down the hall with a knowing smile that slowly faded once he reached the bedroom doorway.
He leaned against the frame quietly, taking her in.
She stood frozen in front of the mirror, eyes scanning herself critically, and immediately he recognized that look. They’d had this conversation before. Every time the world tried to chip away at her confidence, he made it his personal mission to build her back up again.
Because as far as Michael was concerned, Camille was the finest woman walking this earth.
When they first officially met, it had been months after he’d started noticing her around the studio. Every time she walked by, he became completely mesmerized by her hips — the slow confident sway of them like she owned every room she entered. Hell, he wanted her to own him like that.
After weeks of trying not to stare and failing miserably, he convinced one of the studio assistants, who he later learned was Camille’s best friend, to help him arrange a blind date. The woman had only told Camille the man’s name was Michael, purposely leaving out the fact that he was that Michael.
The look on Camille’s face when he walked into the restaurant had nearly sent him into laughter.
Shock melted into amusement quickly though, and before long they’d fallen into easy conversation, playful teasing, and lingering touches beneath the dinner table. They ended the night walking through a small secluded park Camille knew paparazzi rarely visited before eventually stumbling back to her apartment where they did unspeakable but absolutely delicious things to each other until sunrise.
Four months later they’d moved in together.
Michael took her everywhere he could — award shows, charity galas, family outings, recording sessions, even business meetings sometimes. That was his girl and he wanted the world to know it.
He’d even gifted her a delicate gold necklace with a small “M” pendant that matched the “C” necklace he wore beneath his shirts daily.
He learned every detail about her. Every freckle. Every stretch mark. Every expression she made when she was irritated or sleepy or wanted him to kiss her. He knew the exact laugh she did when something genuinely tickled her. Knew how her breathing changed when she was trying not to be angry at stupid shit.
And at forty-four years old, Michael knew something else too.
He wanted to marry her. The ring box sat hidden in the back pocket of his coat right now. But at the moment, her mood mattered more.
Quietly, he walked behind her until their eyes met through the mirror. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, tilting his head down to meet her 5’4 frame.
“Hey baby,” he murmured softly against her neck. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
Camille leaned back into him automatically, breathing in his cologne while his lips brushed gentle kisses beneath her ear.
“Just a day, baby,” she sighed. “Just a damn day. Those bastards outside were asking me the dumbest things. Asking if you were gonna leave me for some supermodel you were hanging around recently.”
Michael immediately tightened his hold on her.
“Fuck them,” he whispered firmly into her ear. “I love you.”
Camille lifted her head then, locking eyes with him through the mirror. Her gaze turned sultry almost instantly, hurt slowly dissolving beneath the heat between them.
“Show me?”
In one swift movement Michael turned her around to face him, lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he crashed his lips against hers. He kissed her like a starving man, walking them backward toward the bed without ever breaking contact.
“Do you understand how much I love this body?” he breathed against her mouth. “Every freckle. Every beauty mark. Every stretch mark. Every scar. I crave every opportunity to worship you.”
He laid her gently onto the mattress before trailing kisses down her body slowly, intentionally, proving every word he spoke.
His lips explored every inch of soft skin he could reach. Kisses became gentle bites. Little sucks that promised bruises later. His hands roamed her curves reverently like he was memorizing her all over again.
Michael touched her like a man giving praise at an altar.
His fingers slid between her thighs while his mouth closed around one of her nipples, moaning softly against her skin as if tasting her drove him insane.
“Mm… Mic— Michael, please…”
“Ssshh,” he soothed between kisses. “I got you. I’m right here. Just take it all in.”
He dragged his middle finger through her wetness before using it to slick his longer fingers. Then slowly, painfully slowly, he pushed two long fingers deep inside her.
Camille arched immediately with a gasp.
“Ahhh… baby, yes…”
Her thighs trembled around his arm as he worked his fingers inside her, curling them expertly while kissing his way back up toward her ear.
“You feel amazing,” he whispered hoarsely. “Always so amazing. Your body was made for me. Every part of you.”
Her moans only encouraged him further. Michael spoke love into her skin between filthy confessions and soft praises, telling her how grateful he was for her, how beautiful she was, how crazy she drove him. By the time he moved between her thighs completely, Camille was already shaking beneath him.
His tongue lapped against her clit slowly at first, savoring her taste. His large hands gripped her thick thighs tightly as they squeezed around his head. The wetter she became, the greedier he got, devouring her like a man convinced he’d die without another taste.
But eventually he noticed her resisting.
“Stop holding back,” he groaned against her. “Let it out, girl. Let me hear you.”
The permission shattered her restraint instantly.
Her orgasm rolled through her body in powerful waves, starting at her toes before climbing upward slowly, her thighs trembling violently around his head. Michael groaned into her loudly, nearly drunk off the feeling of her coming apart beneath him.
Camille cried his name repeatedly, fingers buried deep in his hair while her body writhed against his mouth.
By the time Michael finally pulled away, his lips swollen and shining, Camille looked absolutely wrecked beneath him.
He kissed her stomach softly, lingering there longer than usual as his mind drifted briefly to thoughts of someday seeing her carrying his child. Then he kissed upward — her breasts, her collarbone, her throat — until he finally reached her lips again.
Their mouths met hungrily.
“Wait,” Camille whispered breathlessly. “Let me please you…”
“You are pleasing me,” he murmured. “Let me keep loving on you.”
He silenced her protests with another deep kiss while his hand roamed her body slowly, appreciating every inch of softness beneath his palm.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Michael rested his forehead against hers and smiled softly.
“I love you so much, Camille,” he whispered. “I don’t care what the media says. Ever. You’re my girl. All I wanna do is love you and make love to you until the sun comes up.”
Camille whimpered softly beneath him.
“I love you too. Please… I want you so bad.”
Michael groaned at that.
Without another word he pushed into her fully, no teasing, no slow buildup — just one deep thrust that buried him completely inside her warmth.
They both moaned instantly.
“Baby,” he breathed shakily. “Hold onto my shoulders.”
When she obeyed, he rolled them over smoothly until Camille sat on top of him.
“Michael, I—”
“Ssshh,” he soothed, gripping her hips. “Just move for me. Take control.”
Camille whined softly but complied, slowly rocking her hips against his. The angle had them both gasping immediately, Michael’s hands spreading wide across her hips and ass while she rode him.
Her nails scratched lightly across his chest for balance while his grip tightened enough to leave bruises he already knew he’d kiss later.
“Fuck,” he groaned suddenly when she rolled her hips a certain way. “Yeah… just like that. Ride me, baby.”
The praise only made her move harder.
“You feel so good,” he rasped. “So fucking good. I love watching you ride me.”
Camille moaned his name repeatedly, telling him she loved him too, that he was stretching her perfectly, that she never wanted this to end.
Before long Michael came hard beneath her, gripping her hips tightly while stars burst behind his eyes.
Camille smiled breathlessly as she rode them both through the high, looking down at the blissed-out expression on his face before he finally sat up enough to kiss her sweetly.
Then a devilish grin spread slowly across his lips.
“Lay down, girl,” he murmured against her mouth. “I know you feel how hard I still am. I ain’t done with you yet.”
SUMMARY: In the spring of 1979, Lena working at Pepsi as one of their youngest and rising copywriters meets Michael as a client. Of course she’s internally excited to be working with the Jacksons, but externally she has to remain professional because there’s no way he could be interested right? Each chapter will have a song as the title and I do recommend you listen to it while reading, I write the chapters to the music so you get a 360 feel.
Main Player: Lena is very Pam Grier coded in my head, gorgeous, proud to be blackity black black and confident. Smart, kind, a bit of a vixen and funny. She’s about 5’5 with hips you want to hold on to, thick, strong thighs and a soft pudgy stomach. Dark amber eyes, coffee colored skin and honey brown hair sets off her button nose and lioness eyes.
In other words, she’s a brick house.
CONTENT: 18+, This will be a romantic slow-ish burn even though there are clearly sparks, smut once we get there (I have…so many plans), a dash of jealously, maybe some action. A bit of trauma but will as TW/CW when we get there.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: coming out of FF retirement is wild lol, but I’ve had a resurgence of inspiration thanks to a lot of adhd and a bit of MJ. Okay more than a bit of MJ, a lot of him. Let me know your thoughts!
Rock With You
Chapter 1 - Move On Up
Of course today was the day the bus had to hit every…single…stoplight.
Usually the route was quicker: a fifteen-minute walk to the bus stop followed by a twenty-five-minute bus ride that stopped right across the street from her office. Lena always left the house at 7:15 to catch the 7:35, giving her enough time to dab away any sweat spots, buy a coffee, grab a Pepsi from the vending machine for later, and squeeze in a little gossip session with her boss’ secretary before the workday began.
But today, the gods must’ve been angry with her.
Her beloved alarm hadn’t gone off on time, sending her flying out of bed in a frenzy of curses. She stubbed her toe on the armoire getting dressed, thankful that she ironed her outfit the night before, kissed her mama on the head before running out of the house without so much of a bite of a Pop-Tart, and barely made the bus. Thankfully, the driver, Angie, knew Lena’s schedule well enough to hesitate before pulling away from the stop, when she spotted her sprinting down the block, arms waving frantically.
Lena silently thanked her beloved driver with a grateful look, before collapsing into a nearby seat to catch her breath.
“Running late today?” Angie asked, glancing at her through the mirror.
“Unfortunately. I guess today just isn’t my day, Ang.”
She pulled out her compact mirror, checking for any makeup touch-ups she could manage en route. Her red lipstick was still intact — not too bright, perfectly suited for the day. She adjusted her hair with practiced speed, keeping one eye on the time. Normally, the bus arrived at exactly 8:00, giving her plenty of time before her boss arrived at 8:45 for the official 9:00 a.m. start of the workday.
But today, there was no point rushing.
Time itself had apparently decided to personally ruin her life.
What god did you piss off last night? Kronos?
Lena glanced out the window.
Damn, there are a lot of people on the road today… and cops everywhere. What’s going on? Is that person yelling at???
Add Ares to the list of offended gods, because what the hell?
Finally — what felt like an eternity later — Angie pulled up to Lena’s stop at 8:40.
Five minutes.
Five minutes to check in with security, survive the painfully slow elevator, forget the coffee, forget the Pepsi, and make it to her desk before her boss noticed she wasn’t already there.
As luck would have it, today was also the day Lena spotted her boss standing outside the building, seemingly waiting for someone.
Perfect.
She speed-walked across the street, ignoring the angry chorus of car horns protesting her disrespect for traffic signals.
Just as her feet touched the pavement, she spotted a limousine easing into the line of cars waiting at the building's entrance.
Briefly, she waved apologetically at her boss for missing her usual absurdly early arrival time.
“Early bird,” he always called her.
Not just because she arrived early, but because — according to Carl — she’d “catch the worm, fricassee it, divide it into equal portions, and make sure everyone else got a serving too.”
Lena personally thought the joke was way too long for a Creative Director, but Carl was one of the best in the business, so she laughed politely every time.
Catching sight of her, Carl waved her over. It worried her for half a second, though outwardly she stayed calm, cool, and collected. Technically, she wasn’t late, she just preferred being early, and Carl knew that.
“Hey there, Carl,” she said as she approached. “Moonlighting as a valet now?”
“Nope.” He grinned. “I wanted to introduce you to our newest clients. Thought I’d bring you onto the account as lead copywriter, so I figured I’d make introductions early.”
His eyes swept over her outfit with little subtlety: the medium-length plaid skirt, the yellow button-up, the fresh blowout courtesy of her beloved hairdresser and godmother, Evie.
Lena noticed. Lena ignored it.
As one of the youngest non-interns at Pepsi, she knew how to navigate men like Carl. Besides, there was absolutely no attraction there.
“Well, that’s mighty nice of you,” she replied smoothly. “But you know I usually like to research clients before I meet them. Dig a little deeper. Find the real person underneath the brand.”
The limo came to a stop. The driver stepped out, greeted them both, then opened the rear door.
Carl smirked.
“Oh, I think you may already be very familiar with these clients.”
And he wasn’t lying.
Externally, Lena stayed composed but internally, she nearly blacked out.
Stepping out of the limo were the Jacksons. Tito. Jackie. Randy. Jermaine.
And finally… Michael.
Lena somehow managed to summon the coolest smile she could think of, pure Jackie Brown energy, while internally thanking every single traffic delay that had blessed her with extra time to recover from the shock.
She extended her hand professionally.
“Hi, I’m Lena James. I’m really excited to start brainstorming ideas for the campaign. Why don’t we head upstairs and talk more?”
“Hi, Lena,” Michael said softly, stepping slightly ahead of his brothers. “I’d really love to hear your ideas.”
He shook her hand last. Purposefully, as if lingering there on the sidewalk a little longer wouldn’t hurt anybody.
Carl ushered everyone toward the building, piling the group into the elevator — everyone except Lena and Michael.
“We’ll catch the next one,” Lena said. “Promise we won’t keep you waiting.”
Carl pressed the button for the eleventh floor.
“We’ll see you two up there.”
The doors slid shut.
For a brief moment, silence settled between them.
Lena turned toward Michael with an easy smile.
“So,” she said lightly, “how was the trip downtown? Long ride?”
Michael adjusted slightly, one hand slipping into his pocket to hide the nervous urge to fidget. Dressed in a red polo and black slacks, he looked oddly boyish despite the fame surrounding him.
“Not too bad,” he replied. “The limo makes it easier to spread out. Besides, I was reading most of the ride.”
Ding. The elevator doors opened.
They stepped inside side by side, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed before Michael stepped back slightly to let her enter first.
“Ladies first.”
“Why, thank you, sir.”
Lena leaned forward to press the button for eleven, and the elevator began its slow ascent.
“So what were you reading?” she asked.
Michael brightened immediately.
“Oh — um — it’s called One Hundred More Poems from the Chinese: Love and the Turning Year by Kenneth Rexroth.” He smiled shyly. “It’s a collection of translated poems. They’re all really beautiful. There’s one in particular that’s been stuck in my head…”
His voice trailed off.
Floor 7.
Lena turned toward him fully.
“Well now you have to share.”
Michael glanced at her, then lightly grabbed the elevator railing as if grounding himself.
“The last flowers bloom,” he recited softly. “Orchids and chrysanthemums with their bitter perfume. I dream of that beautiful face I can’t ever forget. I go for a trip on the river. The barge rides the current and dips with the white-capped waves. They play flutes and drums and the rowers sing. I am happy for a moment.”
Floor 9.
Lena stared at him, momentarily speechless.
The words were beautiful and tender. Like the feeling of falling in love before you realized it was happening.
Michael met her gaze cautiously, his amber eyes filled with equal parts vulnerability and concern.
Too much? Too corny? Too him?
“Michael,” she said quietly, “that was beautiful.”
His shoulders relaxed instantly.
“I’m writing that title down the second I get to my desk,” she continued. “I definitely want to read it.”
A shy grin spread across his face.
“You can have my copy if you want. I know where to buy another one.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I insist,” he interrupted gently. “Though… there might be a few dog-eared pages from the poems I really liked.”
Floor 11.
Lena smiled brightly.
“That’s actually really kind. Thank you.”
“I’d love to hear what you think of it,” he admitted as they stepped into the hallway.
“Think about what?” Carl asked as the group reassembled.
“Michael was telling me about a poetry book he’s reading,” Lena answered smoothly. “Love and the Turning Year, right?”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “And I told her she could borrow my copy.”
Carl raised a brow knowingly.
“How generous.”
“Well, gentlemen,” she said brightly, slipping back into work mode, “thank you for your patience. Can I get anyone refreshments before we start? We have everything except Coca-Cola.”
The group laughed as they headed toward the glass conference room.
Lena turned the opposite direction briefly, intending to drop her bag at her desk and touch up her makeup one last time.
Behind her, Michael called out before he could stop himself.
“You coming, Le’?”
The shortened nickname slipped out accidentally.
His face betrayed absolutely nothing.
Internally, however: Why would you say that?!
Lena turned, laughing softly as she walked backward down the hall.
“I’ll be there in a minute. Go get comfortable — and save me a seat.”
Michael smiled immediately.
“Okay. See you in there.”
Lena watched him disappear into the conference room before dashing toward her cubicle.
Bag down. Hair fluffed. Lipstick checked. Perfume sprayed, jasmine, her favorite.
She inhaled deeply, gripping the edge of her desk.
“You got this, Lena,” she whispered to herself. “You’re capable. You’re brilliant. And your ideas are electric.”
Then she headed back down the hallway.
Inside the conference room, the Jacksons were laughing loudly with Carl.
Well… all except Michael.
“There she is!” Carl announced as Lena entered.
“Here I am,” she replied smoothly. “Hope you all managed to survive without me.”
Michael immediately straightened in his chair, visibly more engaged now that she’d returned. Sitting three seats down from the head of the table, he gestured toward the empty chair beside him before Carl could offer another.
“We saved you a seat.”
Lena crossed the room and slid into the chair beside him.
“Perfect,” she said, opening her notebook. “Now… let’s talk about the story. Who’s first?”
They both groaned climbing out of the car, exhaustion practically glued to their bones. Bill watched them lean against each other for balance, Michael barely managing to get the front door open before they all stumbled inside. The sun threatened to break through the dark night sky, soft streaks of gold beginning to creep along the horizon. The wind picked up just enough to make the trees rustle and send a chill through the quiet early morning air. Everything around them felt caught between night and day, the world still sleepy but slowly waking up..
“Damn,” Bill laughed quietly. “Y’all look half dead.”
Neither of them disagreed.
By the time they made it upstairs, both Lena and Michael looked seconds away from collapsing. Bill stopped outside Michael’s room since it was closest to the stairs. Michael leaned heavily against the wall, eyes barely open.
“No, no,” he yawned, waving lazily toward the bed. “Lena should take it. She’s my guest.”
Lena only caught the word bed. “Oh thank God,” she mumbled.
She kicked off her shoes, crawled directly under the covers, and immediately hugged one of the pillows. “So comfortable…so soft. Goodnight.”
Bill looked over at Michael. “Okay, and what exactly am I supposed to do with you, Joker?”
“I’m going to bed,” Michael muttered incoherently.
“But Lena’s literally—”
“Mah…night,” Lena added sleepily from the bed.
Bill looked between them, both already halfway unconscious. Michael pushed himself off the wall and shuffled toward the opposite side of the mattress, clearly not processing anything around him anymore. A second later he collapsed face first into bed without another word.
Within minutes both of them were asleep.
Bill stood there another moment staring at the two snoring bodies in the same bed before shaking his head with a laugh.
He’d explain it in the morning. Maybe.
Sometime during the night, Michael drifted toward the center of the mattress in his sleep, chasing warmth without realizing it. He vaguely registered how soft everything felt and the faint smell of jasmine surrounding him before falling deeper asleep. Lena shifted closer too at some point, instinctively searching for warmth, her hand loosely curled into the fabric of his shirt.
Neither of them noticed.
The next morning sunlight spilled across the room, warm and bright against their faces. Lena stirred first with a groan, trying to bury herself deeper into the pillow before realizing something solid and warm was pressed against her.
Her eyes slowly opened.
A chest.
A very male chest.
She froze. Confused, she looked up only to find Michael still asleep inches away from her face, hair disheveled and one arm stretched comfortably across her waist like it belonged there.
Lena’s eyes widened.
What the hell—
Almost perfectly timed, Michael stirred awake too. He blinked slowly at her, still half asleep, clearly trying to process why she was directly in front of him.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
Then his eyes dropped to his arm around her waist.
“…Why are you in my bed?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.
Lena immediately looked offended. “Why am I in your bed? Why are YOU in your bed with ME?!”
Michael stared at her another second before snorting out a tired laugh. “Okay, fair point.”
Lena started laughing too, exhausted and confused. “I genuinely don’t remember getting in here.”
“I barely remember getting upstairs,” he admitted, rubbing his face. “Last thing I remember is Bill talking.”
“I remember hearing the word bed and apparently that was enough for me.”
Michael laughed harder at that, dropping his head back against the pillow.
They both looked down at the same time, suddenly realizing how tangled together they still were. Lena’s hand was gripping his shirt while his arm remained around her waist.
“Oh my God,” she laughed, immediately trying to untangle herself.
Michael moved at the same time and their foreheads smacked together hard.
“OW!”
Both of them grabbed their heads before dissolving into louder laughter, half from pain and half from how ridiculous the entire situation was.
Lena sat up first, stretching up to wake her body up more. The sunlight hit her face, giving her a glow that made her that much more beautiful.
“Well, good morning, I would ask how you slept but considering our shock of being…well.” He motioned to the bed and room.
“Yeah I know, man I was exhausted. That studio session was worth it though. You and Quincy made some serious magic.” At this point Lena had her knees tucked under her head, smiling.
Michael leaned on his hand, looking up at Lena more.
“Yeah I’m happy you were there last night. Helped keep the session going, in your own Lena way.”
“I bet you say that to all the Lena’s you know.” She mewled back.
“You’re the only Lena I know silly, and even if I knew another one, they ain’t you.”
For a moment neither said anything, just stared at each other as if they held a secret in the silence.
“Would you like to grab some breakfast? And then maybe hang outside we can go by my favorite tree!”
“That sounds nice, let me just…get ready for the day. Meet you downstairs in 20?”
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AN: I posted chapter 9 before this one so if you were confused I’m sorry!! I’ve been traveling for the past week and I got all confused 😅
Rock With You
Chapter 8 — It’s The Falling In Love
As Saturday started winding down into night, Lena learned a few things about Michael and his family.
He loved every single one of them differently, almost like he tailored his love to fit the person receiving it, even his father. He relaxed anytime Katherine touched his shoulders and listened when she reminded him to eat something besides candy and soda. He loved pulling harmless little pranks on his sisters, joked on his brothers constantly, and absolutely adored his younger nieces, always letting them climb all over him without complaint.
At his core, Michael was just a big kid.
He loved toy stores, board games, cartoons, and became aggressively competitive over the smallest things. Earlier he almost started an argument with her over Monopoly money like it was actual currency.
Now curled up on the couch with her knees tucked to her chest, Lena watched the family move around one another with an ease she wasn’t used to seeing. Nothing felt rehearsed. Nobody was performing. No cameras, no polished smiles, no careful media training. Just family. Loud sometimes, teasing often, but warm.
And somehow she’d been allowed into the middle of it.
One by one everyone slowly started peeling away, mentioning schoolwork, dates, parties, exhaustion. Before long it was just her, Michael, and Katherine left in the living room, soft music humming low from another room in the house.
The conversation drifted toward Lena’s childhood, then her writing, then school. Michael listened closely the entire time, chin resting against his fist while she talked.
“One day my teacher sent my mama this story I wrote for class and told her I had this crazy extended vocabulary for a thirteen-year-old.” Lena laughed softly. “Probably because I used to read dictionaries for fun growing up.”
Michael blinked.
“For fun?”
“Yes, Michael. Some of us are nerds.”
He grinned immediately. “That sounds miserable.”
“It wasn’t! I liked learning new words.” She pointed at him accusingly. “And before you say anything, you write songs all day. You are also a nerd.”
Katherine laughed warmly while Michael gasped dramatically. “See, now that’s disrespectful.”
Lena laughed harder before continuing.
“But yeah, I’d read dictionaries, then started reading books all the time, and eventually I just kept writing more and more. After that my teacher recommended me for sixth grade early and I had to prove I could keep up academically.” She shook her head. “Thankfully I had a tutor because otherwise? It’s a no go, I hate math and it hates me.”
“But you’re good at it?” Katherine asked knowingly.
“Unfortunately.” Lena sighed dramatically.
The room filled with laughter again.
“That’s quite a journey,” Katherine said after a moment, her voice softer now. “Your parents must be very proud of you.”
Michael saw it instantly.
The way Lena’s shoulders tightened. The way her smile paused just a little too long before returning. Like her body rejected the word parents before her mind could smooth it over.
Still, she smiled. Small, but real enough.
“My mama brags about me constantly,” Lena said. “To coworkers, neighbors, strangers at the grocery store…everybody.” She smiled fondly. “And my brother too, especially if he’s doing deliveries near my job.”
“And your father?”
The deep voice cut through the room like a knife.
Michael tensed immediately before he even turned around.
Joseph stood near the entrance of the living room, hands in his pockets, eyes curious in a way that never felt fully comfortable.
“Oh! Lena, I can finally introduce you properly to Joseph.” Katherine smiled. “Joe, this is Lena. She’s one of the creatives from Pepsi. She’s been spending time with the boys putting together a bigger story around the commercial.”
“Yeah, one of them told me about that.” Joseph nodded once before looking back at Lena. “Sounds like a good opportunity.”
Then, almost immediately:
“But back to my question. What about your father?”
Again Lena’s shoulders tightened.
Beside her, Michael’s jaw flexed hard enough for her to notice from the corner of her eye.
It was obvious to him now that she did not want to discuss her father. Just as obvious to Lena that Joseph planned on pushing anyway.
“He’s not in the picture anymore,” she answered evenly. “When he was there, he was there. And now he’s not.”
Her smile was polite. Final.
Michael quietly shifted his hand across the couch until his pinky brushed against hers. Tiny gesture. Barely noticeable.
Solidarity.
I’m here.
Lena glanced sideways at him for half a second and felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.
Joseph noticed too.
His eyes dropped briefly to their hands before lifting again, mouth already opening for another question. Thankfully Katherine stepped in before he could.
“Don’t you two need to get ready for the studio?” she asked quickly. “It’s almost nine.”
“Yeah,” Michael answered immediately, standing up. “I just gotta change and grab my notebook.”
“And I need to transfer some notes from my recordings,” Lena added, already rising too.
They said their goodnights and headed upstairs together, silence settling comfortably between them during the short walk.
After changing clothes and grabbing their things, they piled into the car with Bill driving them toward the studio. Los Angeles glowed outside the windows in streaks of orange, red, and neon as they moved through the city.
Lena kept watching the scenery blur together while Michael sat beside her, humming melodies under his breath every few minutes.
“So what’re y’all working on tonight?” she finally asked.
Michael turned toward her immediately.
“I think we’re finishing Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough and Rock With You tonight. The label wants one of them pushed as a single.” He leaned back into the seat. “Then I gotta finish some ad-libs for another track.”
“You excited?”
“Very.” He smiled softly. “Probably gonna be a long night though.”
“I’ve pulled all-nighters before,” Lena said confidently. “I can hang.”
Michael laughed lightly. “I’m just saying, if you get tired, Bill can always take you back so you can sleep.”
“And I’m saying I’m here for the long haul.” She bumped his shoulder gently. “How often do you get to watch a musical genius work?”
“Please…” He ducked his head instantly, blushing.
Lena smiled to herself as he tried hiding it by looking out the window.
By the time they got to the studio, Michael and the team jumped straight into work.
Within minutes he was already debating bass lines and harmonies, passionately insisting tiny musical changes would make the songs hit harder. Watching him work was honestly fascinating. He transformed completely in the studio. Still playful, still sweet, but sharper somehow. Focused.
Confident.
Lena’s foot tapped uncontrollably against the floor while she worked on script ideas for the commercial, the rhythm infecting her bloodstream as Michael layered vocals in the booth.
Words poured out easier with the music surrounding her. Dialogue. Visual concepts. Catchphrases. Entire scenes unfolding in her head alongside the tracks.
Then she heard it.
Not singing exactly.
Groaning.
“Ooo, let love…Nah, nah…”
Her pen froze instantly.
Something about the sound of his voice wrapped around those notes threatened to completely unravel her where she sat.
Jesus Christ. She needed to pull herself together.
Without saying much, she quietly excused herself and slipped out the studio doors before anybody noticed how hot her face suddenly felt.
After getting directions from an employee, she practically fled into the bathroom and locked herself inside.
The faint sound of music still echoed through the walls while she leaned over the sink, closing her eyes.
“Get it together,” she muttered to herself.
But her mind had already betrayed her completely.
Suddenly they were alone in the studio.
Just the two of them.
Michael sat at the control board messing with switches and knobs while glancing at her every few seconds, smiling to himself like he knew something she didn’t.
Then somehow he was staring at her differently.
Hungry.
Like he could see straight through her clothes.
Wait—how did she end up naked?
And why was he shirtless?
Her imagination spiraled fast after that.
His lips against hers. Slow at first. Then deeper. His hands roaming over her body like he’d been wanting to touch her for weeks. She could practically feel herself climbing into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist while they kissed until neither of them could breathe straight.
His hands gripping her ass hard enough to make her gasp into his mouth. Her fingers tangled in his curls. His lips swollen from kissing her senseless while his long fingers slowly drifted lower and lower—
Knock knock.
Lena nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Everything okay in there?” a woman’s voice called.
Reality snapped back into place so fast it made her dizzy.
“Yep!” Lena answered quickly. “Sorry!”
Lord help her.
She splashed cold water onto her face, stared at herself in the mirror, and pointed accusingly at her reflection.
“You need to calm down immediately.”
A few moments later she walked back into the studio with significantly more confidence than she actually felt.
“There she is!” Michael brightened the second he saw her. “Where’d you disappear to?”
“I got turned around trying to find the bathroom.” She sat back down casually. “This place is huge.”
“Wait, no—come here.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he pulled a chair directly beside his and patted it.
Right next to him.
Too close. Entirely too close.
Still, she sat.
Michael looked over at her with a mischievous glint before turning toward Quincy, who was replaying the last take through the speakers.
“Hey Q,” Michael called out casually, “did I tell you Lena here helped write part of Rock With You?”
Lena’s eyebrows shot up immediately. “Excuse me?”
Quincy looked interested instantly. “Oh really? What’d the lovely Miss Lena contribute?”
“Yeah,” Lena deadpanned, turning toward Michael. “What did I contribute?”
Michael grinned harder.
“Do me a favor.” He gently took her hand, guiding her finger toward a red button on the board. “Press this when I signal you.”
Lena tried very hard not to think about his fingers wrapped around hers.
She failed miserably.
Michael disappeared into the booth, slid his headphones on, then looked directly at her through the glass.
He pointed toward the button.
She pressed record.
Then he sang.
Out on the floor
There ain’t nobody there but us
Girl, when you dance
There’s a magic that must be love
His voice filled every inch of the room. Smooth and warm and seemingly effortless.
Then it happened…
Just take it slow
’Cause we got so far to go
Lena’s breath caught.
Oh my God.
That was her.
A random thing she’d said to him the other night somehow transformed into lyrics floating through studio speakers like they’d always belonged there.
Michael kept singing, completely locked into the song while Quincy nodded along to the beat, but Lena could barely process anything after that line.
Because somehow he’d listened to her closely enough to remember it.
And somehow he’d turned it into music.
When he finally stepped out of the booth, Lena immediately started clapping before grabbing his shoulders excitedly.
“You took something I said and made it a lyric? How do you even do that?”
Michael laughed shyly. “I was trying to finish the chorus and what you said just clicked in my head.” He shrugged. “I kept trying it until it fit.”
“See?” Lena pointed dramatically toward him. “I told ya I could go in the booth.”
Michael burst out laughing at the inside joke while Quincy shook his head, amused.
The rest of the night blurred together after that. Music. Writing. Laughing. Michael explaining harmonies and layering techniques while Lena hung onto every word like he was speaking another language she desperately wanted to learn.
By five in the morning exhaustion finally won.
Lena ended up asleep on the couch curled into herself while Michael slept on the floor beside her, arms crossed over his chest and head tipped back awkwardly against the cushions.
“Alright, y’all,” Quincy called eventually. “I’m heading home. Everybody up.”
Michael stirred awake groggily, stretching his arms over his head while Quincy started discussing recording schedules for New York and some additional work tied to The Wiz.
Then Quincy glanced toward Lena, still asleep on the couch.
“You thinking about inviting her out to New York?” he asked casually. “This is the third studio session she’s been at.”
Michael got quiet for a second.
“We’re building a friendship,” he answered carefully. “She’s cool. I like being around her.”
Quincy hummed knowingly but said nothing.
Michael looked over at Lena again.
Truthfully, since meeting her, his mind hadn’t drifted toward the heartbreak he’d been carrying around for months. His focus had shifted back toward the album, The Wiz, his music…
And somehow toward her too.
Toward her laugh.
Her mind.
The way she looked at him earlier when she said she felt protective over him.
Looking at her sleeping peacefully on the couch now made something warm spread through his chest.
Content: yeah there’s some kissing and implied touching and light smut.
Rock With You
“Hey Lena, you up yet, girl?” Michael asked, poking his head through her bedroom door after knocking softly.
What he saw stopped him cold.
Her hair was messy and everywhere, curling and bending from the humid Los Angeles heat. Her face was turned sideways into the pillow, lips slightly parted in sleep. The oversized T-shirt she wore had ridden up just enough for him to catch sight of the soft skin of her lower back, a gentle roll peeking through. And lower still, the curve of her ample backside pressed against the sheets like it was threatening to spill free of them completely.
A sharp wave of jealousy hit him unexpectedly. He found himself wishing he could trade places with those damn sheets, luckily draped over her body.
A soft snore escaped her mouth, quiet and cute enough to make his lips twitch into a grin, but instead of leaving like he knew he probably should, he stayed planted in the doorway for another few minutes, unable to pull himself away.
Slowly, carefully, he crept toward the side of the bed she was facing, wanting to see if she was actually asleep or just pretending.
Dang… she’s even cute when she’s sleeping.
His eyes traced over her features, lingering on the curve of her nose and the softness of her lips. He admired how perfectly balanced her face looked like this, relaxed and unguarded. And before he could stop himself, his mind wandered somewhere dangerous.
He imagined kissing her awake.
At first it would be slow — soft kisses pressed carefully against her lips, testing the waters to see if she wanted him the same way he wanted her. Then, the second her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, he’d slip into bed beside her completely, kissing her harder now, all pent-up need, desire, and restraint finally unraveling.
In his head, his hands roamed over her like they were learning a new home. From her shoulders, down the softness of her waist, until they settled against her ass, squeezing instinctively with a hunger that even surprised him.
He imagined kissing down her neck, pausing against her chest to look up and quietly ask permission to go further. And when she whispered yes, he’d kiss and suck at her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt, drawing soft moans from her that made heat rush through him.
He’d laugh quietly and tell her to hush before she woke everybody in the house.
Still, she’d say his name anyway.
Soft. Breathless. Sleep-heavy.
“Michael’…”
His imagination carried him lower while her fingers tangled in his curls, her voice growing shakier every time she whispered his name.
“Oh… Michael…”
By then it stopped sounding like just his name. In his head, it sounded worshipped. Like she couldn’t stop saying it even if she tried.
“…mmm, Michael.”
The sound hit him twice.
Once in the daydream. And then again in real life.
Michael blinked hard, snapping back to reality so fast it nearly startled him. His head jerked upward at hearing his name spoken aloud for real this time, confusion and amusement flashing across his face all at once.
Quickly he left the room, not wanting to wake her up. As the door softly closed, Lena stirred away on the other side, confused where she was for a moment. Reality began to sink in and then last nights, well this mornings dream came flooding in. Carefully she got up, walked to the bathroom and while brushing her teeth tried to calm herself down from the dream she had.
They had been kissing hot and heavy for hours, his hands roaming her body with a mission it seemed hers permanently on on his neck with her fingers in his hair. Clothes were thrown all over, she saw them in his room, messy with his notes, her notes, forgotten games, papers about. He kissed like a man possessed, and she was the target of it. Before long his kisses trailed lower, causing her to gasp his name…
“Snap out of it Lena.” She said after rinsing her mouth out, hoping it would rinse her thoughts too.
The closeness between them was starting to blur between friendship and attraction and she knew she if it kept blurring…it could lead to trouble.
She finished getting ready for her last day at Michael’s excited to see her mom again but sadden for it to be over so soon it felt. Putting on her shorts, she started to feel self conscious about having her thighs so exposed around Michael…especially after that dream. Everything else was dirty and besides the shorts weren’t that short, a little above her knee but it hugged every part of her thighs and ass.
Leaving the room before she lost her mind, she found a note asking for her to come to his room when she woke up, so she obliged. She found him sitting in the window, looking outside as if he was deep in thought.
“Hey…got your note.”
“Hey! I was thinking….” He trailed off seeing her exposed thighs. He didn’t know she had thighs that thick, they had been mostly covered this whole time but this new development was enough to make him stop in his track.
“Thinking is good! What were the thoughts.”
He shook his head to rid it of the the fantasy of her thighs wrapped around his waist while he…
“Thinking that we should definitely hit up goodwill today and then later I can make sure you get home in time for dinner? Give you time to relax before Monday.”
“Goodwill? What you know about that?” She teased
“What? I love those stores, you never know what treasures you can find there! I found so many of my outfits from there. It’s a good place!” He smiled at Lena’s shocked expression
“Discovering random things about you has been great.”
Latoya ran into Michael’s room, stopping at Lena and looking her up and down. “Woooow Lena who knew you had all of that body! You got some great legs! Don’t she Michael?”
Oh god please shut up…I was trying not to think about her thighs right now.
“Lena always looks good, even when she’s sleeping.”
That last part slipped out unexpectedly, he looked to see if Lena looked mad or creeped out, the earlier memory of him watching her. Could she read his mind? Hopefully not or maybe hopefully yes so that the confession he was too afraid to speak could come out.
“I thought yall was suppose to be in separate rooms?”
“Oh I fell asleep in the studio twice this past weekend. So he’s seen me sleeping a few times now, embarrassingly enough.”
“Oh okay, I think it would be fine if yall did sleep in the same bed…it’s clear to us that…”
“OH KAY THATS ENOUGH. Latoya get out of my room, we’re heading out soon and uh. Yeah get out please.”
“Fine! Lena I’ll see you next time right? We didn’t get to talk that much. Okay okay im leaving no need to push me out”
Michael closed his door and after pushing her out, back on the door and sighed.
AN: we’ve reach the title chapter and there’s some…lustful energy once again. Squint hard enough it’s a dash of smut.
Look I usually hate slow burns but writing this one has brought me joy. Also, yall should definitely listen to the demo to both Rock With You and Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough while reading this.
It does something to me, it adds to the experience.
Rock With You - https://youtu.be/wOsaj-Ku4ZA?si=gX4sH-759yXGHvK0
Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough - https://youtu.be/IM_AWhgXgtE?si=640TeULcixBOkKmk
Chapter 6 pt 2 - Rock With You
On the car ride to the studio, it seemed like Michael was in his own world, and Lena didn’t want to disturb it. Instead, she watched him. Really watched him.
The way his fingers tapped against his thighs in uneven rhythms while he beatboxed softly under his breath. The pauses where his eyes unfocused like he was hearing something nobody else could. The way he kept rewriting lyrics in real time, testing syllables against melodies only he could hear.
He kept circling back to the chorus he’d sung for her earlier.
“Relax your mind, lay back and groove with mine…”
“Share the beat of loooove…”
“I wanna rock with you, all night… dance you into the day…”
“I wanna rock with you… rock the night away…”
He layered the melody differently every time, smoothing out one note, stretching another. Lena stared at him in quiet awe.
So this is how he works.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, of course,” he answered sincerely, still half inside the music.
“Your process… you like to manually do as much as you can before you even get to the studio. Why is that?”
Michael leaned back against the seat, moonlight pouring through the window and softening his features. The silver glow caught the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the long lashes shadowing his eyes.
“I got so many ideas in my head,” he admitted quietly. “So I try to lay ’em out one by one when I can. Sometimes a song kinda takes over my headspace and I gotta work it out until it sounds close to how it sounds in here.” He tapped the side of his head before suddenly sitting up. “Like for example—Bill, pull over real quick please.”
Bill sighed dramatically from the front seat. “Every time the full moon come out, here we go.”
Michael ignored him entirely, laughing at his words.
The car rolled to a stop along the quiet roadside, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Michael jumped out first before circling around and opening Lena’s door himself, reaching for her hand.
The second she stepped outside, everything felt different.
Maybe it was the cool night air. Maybe it was how empty the road was. Or maybe it was the fact Michael still hadn’t let go of her hands.
He started swaying with her slowly, guiding her into motion like the music was already playing somewhere around them. One hand slipped to her waist while the other held hers delicately, spinning her from one side of him to the other with surprising smoothness.
“With this song,” he said softly, “I think about being in a club with a girl… just dancing the whole night away with her. I’m almost tryna woo her with the singing, y’know? But the dancing matters too.”
He sang the chorus under his breath while moving her across the gravel shoulder, their shoes scraping softly against the ground. He dipped her carefully, bringing her low enough that her curls brushed against his arm before pulling her back upright in one smooth motion.
Closer this time. Too close.
Lena could feel his breath now. Warm. Sweet. Uneven.
Michael’s eyes flickered down to her lips for half a second before back up to her eyes like he was trying not to. His thumb pressed unconsciously into the curve of her waist, holding her there longer than necessary and Lena didn’t move.
The air between them tightened painfully, the kind of tension that made her stomach flip over itself. His nose brushed hers accidentally during the slow pull upward from another dip, and she swore his grip tightened.
Then headlights swept across them from the opposite lane.
Both of them blinked apart immediately, Lena exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“Wow,” she laughed nervously, smoothing her shirt down. “That’s some process, and some dancing too. Scared of you.”
His grin turned crooked instantly. “Don’t be. I ain’t gon’ bite ya.”
“Take it slow,” she teased lightly, trying to recover herself. “We got far to go.”
Michael froze. “Wait… say that again.”
“Take it slow. We got far to go.”
He repeated it under his breath immediately.
“Just take it slow… ’cause we got far to go…”
Lena stared at him in amazement while he worked through the line in real time. He noticed her staring after a second and rubbed the back of his neck shyly.
“Speaking of, we should go,” he mumbled. “Can’t keep Q waiting too long.”
—
By the time they arrived at the studio, Lena noticed the shift almost immediately.
Michael went from relatively shy and soft-spoken to completely alive.
How can I get him to be that comfortable around me?
She shoved the intrusive thought away and focused instead on following him through the building.
The halls of Westlake Studios glowed under dim amber lighting, gold and platinum records lining the walls beside framed photographs of artists frozen mid-session. The air smelled faintly of coffee, cigarette smoke, expensive cologne, and warm electrical equipment. Music drifted from behind closed doors in fragments—bass lines from one room, piano scales from another, muffled laughter somewhere farther down the corridor. Engineers moved through the halls carrying tapes and styrofoam coffee cups while conversations about mixes and deadlines bounced around them.
“It’s about time, man!” Quincy called the second they entered.
“Sorry,” Michael laughed. “Moon got me inspired again. Had to pay my respects.” He motioned toward Lena. “Everybody, this is Lena. She’s working on the Pepsi stuff for me and my brothers. Lena, this is Rod… and Quincy.”
Everyone greeted her warmly except Quincy, who stood smoothly and took her hand with theatrical charm.
“Miss Lena…” he smiled. “Like Lena Horne?”
Lena laughed softly. “She’s one of my mama’s favorite singers.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “She here to work, Q, not get flirted with by my producer.”
Quincy smirked knowingly while Lena tried not to smile too hard at Michael sounding territorial.
“Come on,” Michael continued quickly. “Lemme play this beat I was doing back at home. Lena, you can sit wherever you want, okay? Back there, up here, don’t matter.”
The sincerity in his eyes lingered longer than his words did.
Lena settled onto the couch at the back of the studio while Michael immediately launched into the creative process with a completely different energy than before.
He moved nonstop.
Hands flying. Feet tapping. Beatboxing. Singing partial notes before stopping himself mid-sound. Quincy countered him calmly from the board while Rod adjusted levels nearby.
“There, no no no—more like ba ba ba not ba di da,” Michael insisted, gesturing wildly. “Like I wanna roooock with you. Higher. The note should meet me here.”
“Or,” Quincy countered while playing a key, “you start here and let it rise. The crescendo matters.”
Michael pointed instantly. “That’s it. That’s it.”
Lena grabbed her notebook almost unconsciously.
Observations:
Michael throws himself into creativity completely. Entire body involved. No stillness anywhere.
Protective over guests.
Likes to banter while creating.
Confidence increases the second music starts.
When Michael finally stepped into the booth, the room shifted again. The chorus he’d been humming in the car suddenly bloomed into something fuller.
“You gotta feel that heat… and we can ride the boogie…”
“Share that beat of love…”
“I wanna rock with you…”
“Rock the night away…”
Lena watched through the glass while he layered vocals carefully, stopping himself over and over to perfect a single word.
“No, run it back after girl,” he instructed. “I can hit that softer.”
An hour and three takes later, her came out rhe booth proudly grinning and looking satisfied. His joy radiated as he collapsed beside Lena on the couch.
“So,” he asked, eyes sparkling, “what’d you think?”
“That was so good,” she admitted honestly. “That chorus is gonna sound crazy on a dance floor.”
“Girl, wait ’til I finish the whole thing.” He nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “The whole song gon’ sound good on that floor.”
“I’ll be right here till then.”
Then maybe I’ll never finish it.
The thought hit him so suddenly he almost laughed out loud.
He looked over at her ciurled against the couch cushions and felt something warm settle in his chest.
“You look good waiting right there too,” he said before he could stop himself, bottom lip between his teeth.
Lena blinked at him, unsure how to reply to this confident version and before she could answer, Quincy called from across the room.
“Alright lover boy, finish the next track.”
Michael shot Quincy a look before reluctantly returning to the board.
“What was that thing you said earlier,” he asked Lena over his shoulder, “about bass lines in disco?”
“There’s nothing like a good bass line to make people jump up and dance.”
Michael smirked immediately. “You hear that, Q? Young lady loves a good bass line.”
Quincy snorted. “Then maybe you should play ‘Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough’ already.”
“And maybe,” Michael shot back, “we could actually finish it.”
He hurried back into the booth moments later, headphones sliding over his hair.
“Okay Q,” he said excitedly. “Play the intro.”
The bass rolled through the studio slowly before Michael’s voice drifted through the speakers soft as smoke.
‘You know, I was
I was wondering, you know
If you could keep on
Because the force
It’s got a lot of power
And it make me feel like ah
It make me feel like… ooh!’
Then the music exploded alive around him.
Horns. Bass. Rhythm.
Lena physically felt it in her chest and in front of her eyes, Michael transformed inside the booth.
Gone were the nervous pauses and quiet stares. Here, he was all confidence and instinct and charm. His head tossed with the rhythm, fingers tapping against the headphones while he layered adlibs between verses.
“I’m melting now…”
“Ahh sensation…”
“Let love…”
Some of the sounds he pulled from deep in his chest made heat crawl up her spine before she could stop it. And when he looked directly at her while doing one, that did not help.
Suddenly her imagination betrayed her completely.
For one dangerous second she pictured herself in the booth with him. Him singing directly into her ear while his hands slid down her back slowly. Their bodies moving together in rhythm while the bass pulsed beneath them. His mouth trailing along her neck before returning to hers. She reached down, rubbing on him while he deeply kissed her. His long fingers made their way into her jeans, caressing what needed to be touch desperately as the bass surrounded them. Their make out session grew sloppy, he explored her mouth before his fingers started to explore her more. She felt tortured, in the best way, the bass, the fingers the kiss. God it was suffocating and everything she wanted. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.
“Tell me… can you keep on?” he murmured deeper this time, pushing another digit into her causing a gasp.
“Hey Lena,” Michael laughed suddenly through the mic. “Earth to Lena. You good?”
She nearly jumped.
“Sorry,” she coughed awkwardly. “Got caught up in my thoughts.”
Quincy turned suspiciously in his chair while Michael grinned.
“Was it that bad?”
“No! God, no,” she rushed. “It just reminded me of this club downtown I like going to sometimes. I can picture the song there already. Bodies pressed together, heat rising… everybody dancing.”
Michael’s expression shifted slightly at her wording, though he said nothing.
The session carried on for hours after that.
At some point Lena ended up beside Quincy and Michael at the board, listening to conversations about arrangements and layering techniques while slowly learning their process. She chimed in occasionally, and every single time she did, Michael looked at her like her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s in the room.
By four in the morning exhaustion had finally started winning. Yawns interrupted conversations. Coffee sat forgotten. Even Quincy looked half asleep.
“I think we can pin these for now,” Quincy said finally. “We’ll finish ‘Rock With You’ next week. And when we’re in New York, Stevie can play you that song he wrote.”
Michael nodded sleepily before immediately looking toward the couch.
Lena had curled into the armrest sometime during the last playback, eyes closed, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.
His face softened instantly.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We should head out.”
—
Bill drove them back through silent Los Angeles streets while the city slept around them.
Michael and Lena sat in the backseat again, both too tired to talk much now. The adrenaline from the studio had worn off completely, leaving only heavy eyelids and lingering warmth.
For a while they just listened to the low hum of the engine and the soft music drifting from the radio. Then Lena’s head tipped sideways accidentally onto Michael’s shoulder.
She jerked upright immediately. “Sorry—”
“It’s okay,” he mumbled quickly.
A few moments later, he carefully lifted his arm and pulled her gently onto his shoulder instead.
Lena looked up at him, sleepy and hesitant.
Michael only smiled softly. “Go to sleep.”
And this time she did, her body relaxed against him little by little until he could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing through his jacket. One of her hands rested lightly against his arm while the car moved through pools of moonlight and empty streets.
Michael looked down at her for a long moment before resting his head gently on top of hers.
Somewhere in the front seat, Bill glanced into the rearview mirror and smirked to himself before turning the radio down lower.
By the time the gates of Hayvenhurst appeared ahead of them, both of them were asleep tangled together in the backseat.
