#pearlwrites!

it's a warm, stuffy july afternoon. and today is one of those cherished moments when your precious boyfriend is free from the discord and chaos of his rising fame. 

the hubbub of the record player in the living room is the only sound competing with the smack of you and michael's lips together. your hips gently rock against each other's as you straddle him. hands groping and running across every inch of eachother's bodies.

michael reluctantly pulls back and leaves a trail of warm kisses down any areas of skin showing through your thin top. a quiet mewl to slips out your lips

you've become a little needy over the past few weeks. every time things between you and your lover got a little too steamy, he would shut things down immediately. you're practically his first in every area! while his reluctance is justified, the sexual appetite of any young adult is curious and demanding.

michael can feel your hands inching closer to the zipper of his jeans by the second and is quick to stop you. he doesn't want to tell his pretty angel no, but jehovah's teachings are set like stone in his mind!

"i'm sorry sweets.." he begins to trail off, his hands trembling and his doe eyes searching for any emotion he can garner through yours that isn't anger. his hand still grips onto your lingering wrist.

you're quick to shoo the guilt out of his head with a peck. "mike, it really isnt a biggie." of course you're not upset with him! never in a million years.

and michael, oh so eager to please, frantically proposes a new idea.

sure, he's abstaining from sex, but who says he can't have a little taste of your sweet sugar?  

michael lays himself across the couch, wide eyes following you as you hoist yourself over his face. his hands quickly find their place on your waist, drawing mindless shapes and doodles.

"michael, you sure about this?" you question, the wet spot in the middle of your panties still hovering over his face. he is quick to nod and answer, "positive."

he lightly tugs on your thighs and settles deeper within the couch. "lets get you out of these." he chuckles as he peels away the only thing blocking him from his delicious treat. stuffing the garment in his jean pocket.

you know you'll never see those panties again.

michael gently coaxes you, "lower yourself, sweetie." and you obey. as soon as your sticky core touches his tongue, his pupils dilate. a thick and sluggish stripe runs up your center, barely missing your clit. this is what he's been passing up? he thinks to himself, what a fool he is.

your hips immediately jerk forward, and michael's clammy hands that were once digging into the plush of your thighs are now guiding your waist to a steady pace, up and down his tongue.

the sound that erupts from you is melodic, and he can feel himself straining through his jeans.

your hands fly to anywhere they can ground themselves in. digging into the arm of the couch, grappling his soft curls, and onto the chest spilling out of your top. well—your hands were on your chest, but michael's seemed to have taken those matters into his own hands. his heavy fingers are twisting and fluttering on your nipple.

"'s–'s that feel good?" he muffles under your puffy pussy. "hm?" all he wants to do is please you. its the only thing that constantly floods his mind. a pure love-sick gaze clouds his eyes as he stares up at you.

"uh huh! michael– mmf!" your hips seem to have a hasty mind of their own. up and down. up and down. up and down. you can feel your boyfriend writhe beneath you.

the feeling of your thighs around his head is like heaven. he can barely breathe, and most of the blood that would have been flocking to his brain shoots straight to his throbbing shaft. the only word you think you can distinct from his eager groans is, "tighter."

a hot, pulsing band in your abdomen? bladder? your lower intestine. no—fuck it, its there. and its about to snap.

"oh lord, yes!" a gutteral moan is dragged out your throat. he can feel your legs violently twitch. your orgasm washes over you like an ice bath. you've officially reached cloud nine. michael's burning stare is unwavering. you look so damn etheral.

plopping down on the couch, the sight beside you is surreal. michael is now staring off into space, a cherubic smile plastered on his face. your warm and sticky essence is drips down the sides of his mouth like vanilla ice cream. god, if you could capture a moment forever it would be this one.

a noise coming from the front door alerts the both of you, it's keys jingling. "hello?" a male voice calls out. one of his brothers.

"jackie, they're probrably upstairs! hush." another voice quickly shuts him down. that's definitely latoya.

— ᨳଓ . husband!michael who loves quiet mornings with you for a special reason. as much as he enjoys hearing the birds chatter outside or watching you complete your morning routine, he cant help but be a little bias when it comes to his own. his favorite and only way to start his day is by leaving kisses all over your soft face, tickling the sides of your stomach, and begging for a kiss before brushing his teeth!

"please sweetheart, one kiss wont hurt"

"michael, no. your morning breat-"

he usually gets his kiss.

— ᨳଓ . husband!michael who would never tolerate any direspect directed towards you. he knows how you get in uncomfortable situations, and he is ready to be your "knight and shining armor" as you would tease. quincy or frank just made a snappy comment? as out of character as it sounds for your husband, michael is quick to assert himself! "that's my wife, Q." or an "i think she's had enough. dont speak to her like that." he will literally grab you by the waist with one arm and haul you behind him so that he can confront your situation himself.

— ᨳଓ . husband!michael who loves doing the most mundane tasks because spending time with his wife is what helps him feel most grounded. one of his favorite moments is when washing dishes and chatting about each other's day turns into a soap war! he will make sure to have fun if its the last thing he does. youre vacuuming the stairs and he's trying to see if he can screech sing louder than the vacuum.