telemofo

Friday, June 1980

The night breeze slipped through your bedroom window as you got ready for bed. Your day was exhausting. A Friday double shift at the restaurant across the street had your feet throbbing and your head spinning, but anything to keep the lights on, right?

You stepped out of the bathroom in fresh pyjamas and fluffy socks, plopped onto your bed, and sighed. All you wanted was a warm cup of hot chocolate and some late-night TV, but even that simple plan was disturbed.

Your landline rings, its piercing sound deafening, as you head to the kitchen to make a hot drink. Reaching the phone near the peninsula, you pick it up and answer in a defeated tone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, doll,” Michael’s soft voice carries through the line, “How are you?”

“Tired as hell, Mike.” You reply with a sudden calmness, walking around the kitchen with the phone propped between your ear and shoulder.

“I bet…” He trails off, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say.

You don’t rush him, taking the silence as an opportunity to grab a carton of milk — the line too short to reach the fridge. You pour the hot chocolate powder into your mug and place the kettle on the stove, waiting for it to boil.

“Mike?” You pick up the phone again.

“Yeah— yeah, I’m still here, doll, I just…” He trails off again. You can hear rustling over the line, as if he’s shifting positions wherever he’s seated.

“You just what? Hmm?”

“I was thinking that maybe tomorrow…you could come over and umm, you know…” Michael stammers over the phone. He’s twirling the cable in his large hands, but you can’t see that.

“Mike,: Your voice comes out a lot sterner than you intended, exhaustion matting your irritable.

“I want you to come over and meet my parents,” he finally spits out, instantly noticing your annoyed tone.

You’d been official with Michael for about 7 months now, not too long but not an ignorable time either. He promised to keep you away from the limelight, knowing that that attention was not something you wanted for yourself. However, that meant keeping you away from his family home, which inevitably meant keeping you away from his parents, too. You were okay with this, knowing how Michael’s home situation was stressful in ways you wouldn’t fully understand. Michael never fully disclosed everything that had happened in his life, but you could tell from context clues and public interviews that he wasn’t fond of his father.

“Including Joseph, yeah.” Michael answered the unspoken question, clearing his throat before continuing, “Bill and I can pick you up and uh…yeah. Tomorrow. Please?”

“Gee, Mike, are you sure?” Your question is soft, not demanding.

“Yeah. I want my family to know you. I’m serious about you, doll.”

You smile as you pour freshly boiled water into your mug and add milk.

“Ok, my love. I’ll be ready by 8am tomorrow.” You hum over the phone, and Michael hangs up, sensing your need for ‘me time’.

Saturday, June 1980

Morning breaks faster than you expected, birds chirp, and dogs bark down the street as their owners walk them to a local park. You sluggishly step out of bed and head to your bathroom, putting rollers in your silk press to curl your hair up for today. You shower to the soft sound of music on the radio, taking your time to scrub away any sleepiness. When you finally step out of the shower, you rub cocoa butter lotion on your body and beat your face in a soft pink makeup undo before putting on a summer dress with red loafers Michael bought you for your birthday. When you finish removing the rollers from your hair, you pick it out and fluff it up with a hair pick.

Your doorbell rings shortly after, and you unlock it to reveal Michael standing on the other side.

“Hi, handsome.” You tease, grabbing your purse before stepping out and following him to the Rolls-Royce. Bill is comfortable sitting in the driver’s seat as Michael opens the back seat and helps you in.

“Morning, Bill.” He greets you, too, turning the engine on after Michael enters the car beside you. You can tell he’s nervous — you are too, but you keep it together for the sake of both of you.

The car ride is quiet, palm trees swoosh by as the road unfolds before you. Michael’s leg bounces in nervous anticipation as you near closer and closer to the Hayvenhurst Estate. When you finally reach the large gates, you duck down to avoid being photographed by groupies standing outside. Bill parks the car near the entrance, and you straighten yourself out, hoping for the best. Beside you, Michael looks somewhat pale, the reality of the situation finally hitting him.

“Uh, ok, uh,” he starts, “Just uh…wait here, alright? I’ll be— I’ll be right back uh.” And with that, he’s out of the car, dashing to the house without explanation and leaving you with Bill.

“He’s nervous. Been planning this for weeks now but kept postponing,” Bill pipes up, still sitting in the car with you, “I guess he finally figured he’d get it over and done with today.”

“I’m nervous too, Bill. Ain’t really looking forward to meeting his father,” you respond honestly, fiddling with your purse, “seems like I mean man.”

Bill nods and hums in response, knowing exactly what you’re implying. He’s seen it all while working for the family, specifically Michael. He’d have to watch Michael silently cry in the backseat of the car after an argument with his father, needing some time away from the estate. There were times when Bill wanted to intervene, tell Joseph to leave the boy alone, but he stayed out of it, knowing it wasn’t his place.

Soon enough, Michael’s trotting back to the car and opening the car door, holding out his large hand for you as he helps you out of the car. Without wasting any more time, he leads you into the house and to the large living room where his mother and father occupy.

“Good morning,” you grin, placing your purse on a small table near one of the couches.

Katherine is the first to respond. She stands up and gives you a warm hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet the woman Michael won’t shut up about.”

Joseph, on the other hand, stays seated. He looks you up and down, judging every inch of your form with harsh eyes before he nods silently.

Michael clears his throat and introduces you to his parents, motioning for you to sit beside him on a warm couch that rests across his parents.

“So, mother, Joseph, this is my girl,” Mike spoke with forced calmness, holding your knee for support.

“It’s very nice to meet you both.” You place your hand over his, keeping your gaze on his parents.

“I’m surprised,” Joseph’s monotone voice carries through the room, and Michael's hand on your knee tightens, waiting for whatever his father has to say, “I’m surprised you stuck around long enough to date my son, given his softness and all.”

Your mouth parts slightly in shock. Michael’s hand goes slack, and you can quite literally feel the pain forming in him. How could someone say something so hurtful about their own son? Just like that?

“Michael is very gentle, yes, but I appreciate that about him, especially in a world where men are so comfortable hurting women they claim to love.” You throw the insult back in Joseph’s face, gracefully defending your man in the process. Katherine’s grin widens in response, enjoying your fierceness.

“So you like one of them sissy men, huh?” Joseph continues.

“I love your son, that is all,” you force the words out with a smile, looking at Michael to reassure him.

Katherine clears her throat and pops up, “You two look adorable together. How long have you been official?”

“About 7 months now, ma’am . 7 good months.” You shift in your seat, brushing Michael’s cheek.

The air between all four of you is thick, Joseph’s eyes piercing through you as you continue your conversation with Katherine. You begin to feel uncomfortable with the situation, but you push through, telling Katherine about your waitressing work in the city.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re so warm and welcoming,” Katherine laughs, holding your gaze, “so how has it been dating Michael? The fame he carries is quite heavy. How have you managed it in your relationship?”

“It’s been a challenge sometimes. We can’t just go out in public together, but Michael always finds a way to plan romantic dates for us on private beaches and in my apartment.”

Katherine melts at that. The idea of her son putting in all that work to make time for you, to make time for your relationship, is sickeningly sweet.

Joseph merely scoffs, sitting with his legs obnoxiously spread out in an attempt to assert dominance.

“Fame ain’t something you’re after, girl? Not at all?” Joseph questions with a doubtful tone, “I’m not buying this, this ‘I don’t wanna be famous’ shit,” he shrugs.

A pause

“May you show me where the bathroom is?” You turn to Michael with a forced smile. He nods and stands up, leading you to the guest bathroom. You pull Michael into the bathroom with you, then close and lock the door.

“What the hell is wrong with him? I mean, god, he’s insufferable. The way he speaks to you? The way he speaks aboutyou? It’s disgusting!” You whisper-shout, pacing around the small room.

“I’m used to it now, doll. Don’t worry about it,” Michael sighed defeatedly, “it’s alright—“

“Alright? Hell no, it’s not ‘alright’!” You comment, your hands on your hips, “I’m so close to blowing up at your father right now, and trust me, I’m trying to stay calm.”

Your chest rises and falls with anger targeted at Joseph. Michael just watches you and bites his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself calm as well.

“I’m sorry, doll.” He whispers, placing his forehead to yours, “I…I thought he’d be calmer today.”

You take a deep breath and rest your arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Do you have to deal with this every day?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it now. He’s my father, I have to honour him as my father.”

“Oh, please don’t start with that Bible talk. Please.” You close your eyes and shake your head. “He’s pissing me straight off right now, and I’m not going to listen to you bring scripture into this.”

Michael holds his breath for a moment before speaking, “Alright, how about we just tell them you’ve gotta go back to the city for an afternoon shift? Cut things short.”

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips while your arms slide off his shoulders. With that, you both exit the bathroom and return to the living room, taking your seats before you answer Joseph’s hanging question.

“I’ve never desired to be in the limelight. My life is just fine away from the public eye.”

“Really? Is that why you decided to date such an influential man like my son?” Joseph scoffs and chuckles, turning to Katherine now. “She doesn’t like fame but gets all romantic with a Jackson. A Jackson.”

Your mouth twitches in barely hidden anger, clenching your hands into fists on your lap. Michael sits beside you in silence, letting you handle this on your own. He knows better than to fight a battle for you.

“Mr Jackson, with all due respect, you do not know me. If I wanted to be in the spotlight, I would have called the press on Michael and me months ago, but I haven’t. I have kept my relationship with Michael away from prying eyes for this long. What makes you think that I’m going to suddenly change my stance on being unknown?”

Joseph’s mouth falls open in shock, disbelief written all over his face. He’s met many of his sons’ girlfriends, but none of them has had the audacity to question him directly. Katherine tightens her robe with a knowing smirk, soaking in your defiance as her eyes meet Michael in a silent “I like her” manner.

Michael smiles back at his mother, his posture straightening as he revels in his mother’s silent praise. He looks at his father and musters the courage to speak. “She’s a good woman, Joseph, and I plan on being with her for a long time. Thank you. We’ll be leaving now. I want to show her around the estate before she leaves for work.”

Katherine nods with a big smile on her face, and Joseph scoffs and chuckles to himself. Michael is first to stand, holding out his hand to lead you out of the living room.

“I’m gonna kill one day, you know?” You mumble as you walk with Mike to his bedroom. He doesn’t respond, simply chuckling at your words before placing a gentle kiss to the top of your forehead.

“Baby,” he said softly, already reaching for you the second you got close enough. You sighed dramatically. “You’ve been ignoring me for an hour.”

“I’m working.”

“Yeah..sure.” He finally glanced up then, amused by the pout on your face. Mature era Michael always had that unfairly calm expression when he knew he was getting under your skin. “Come here,” he murmured. You stepped between his knees and immediately his hands settled on your hips, warm and possessive through the thin fabric of your skirt. He leaned back in the chair, staring at you quietly for a second before smiling a little. “Attitude today?”

“You started it.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, did I?” His fingers slid slowly along your thighs, teasing, unhurried. The movement made you inhale sharply and he noticed immediately, eyes darkening just slightly. Michael loved that—loved seeing your composure crack first.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“Mama,” he said lowly, thumb rubbing against your skin while you tried not to react, “you get needy so fast.” You rolled your eyes, but it was weak. “S-shut up.” That only made him laugh softly. “So pretty when you’re pretending not to want me.”

The worst thing about Michael was how patient he was. He’d keep you right there between his legs, touching you slowly until your hands ended up gripping his shoulders for balance. Meanwhile he stayed completely composed, looking up at you with that lazy little smile like he had all the time in the world. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Can barely stand still. Mmh.”

“Michael…” You bite your lip. “Mmhh..There she is,” he whispered instantly, voice warm with satisfaction the second you finally sounded desperate for him. “That’s my baby.” He smirks and bite his lips. “You’re gonna’ have to keep it down mama, if you don’t want to get caught. I’ll gladly fuck you in the middle of my office with an audience if it meant that everyone knows you’re mine and I’m yours, you wan’ that?”

He carefully placed you down on his lap, and lifted your skirt, to put his hands down your skirt. “Spread your legs baby.” He helps you spread your legs wider with his big hands. His fingers ran down your pussy to dip into your soaking hole. Oh and did i mention he already took your panties of?? You let out a moan and touched his wrist as he took his wet fingers and circled your clit with them.

“Ohhh yess moan for me baby. Moan for me. That’s a mama mmhh.” he cooed into your open mouth. Your breath fanning his face as he started to finger you harder and faster.

“Fuck, look at thattt, you’re so fucking wet mama. Hear your delicious juices already squirting around my fingers” His fingers curled up to hit your g spot and you were convinced that your half of your skirt were completely soaked at this point. “That feels good Mmh?” He grabs his clean hand to make you look at him. You can also feel that he’s hard.

Then, He slides his second finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot again, Making deeeeep eye contact with you and that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He tried and adds a third finger… yes girl, a third one.

stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars. “A-ah! ff-fuckk, michael! Yes!”

You came hard on his fingers with a loud, shuddering scream. “Michael—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed hard, thighs clamping around his fingers, shaking your head and stopping his hand, powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. “Fuckk.. atta girl, mmhh so, so good.”

Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers gushing wetly on his lap and fingers while he continued to rub your clit, to see a small reaction. “Mean, huh? aww look at you mama.”

through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. His other hand stayed firmly on your hand that’s stopping him.

you fix yourself on him and your skirt then turning towards him very shy… his eyes meet yours. “you did so good mama. So good.” he says, squeezing your legs softly. you two smile at each other and he hugs you right. “You really embarrassed me, Michael.” You said shyly. (◞‸ ◟)💧 He kisses your forehead. “Don’t be embarrassed’ mama, you did so well.”

mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. First time writing smut.. heh nervous >.< its lwk ahh.. so I’ll probably delete it.

He had that heavy, slow way about him—shoulders broad, voice gravelly, expression unreadable unless he was looking at you. Then it shifted. Just a little. Just enough. Like his eyes softened, or his mouth twitched into something barely shy of a smile. But only for a second. Only for you.

He wasn’t your father. As many times as your mother tried to make it so—“Can you ask your daddy what time he’ll be home?” or “Your daddy said he’d pick up more of that good brisket from town”—you never said the word. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Not when your thoughts about him weren’t the kind daughters were supposed to have.

Not when you couldn’t stop noticing the way his shirt clung to his back when he mowed the lawn. Or how his voice sounded first thing in the morning, gravel and heat, rasping low as he stood in the doorway with a steaming mug of coffee and tired eyes.

Not when you still dreamed about the way his hand lingered on your lower back a little too long the night of the wedding, guiding you through the crowd with a touch that didn’t feel familial.

Not when the man who’d been in your life less than a year looked at you sometimes like he’d undo every rule in the world just to have one moment of honesty with you.

And now here he was, sitting across the table, carving roast beef with those strong, calloused hands, the flicker of candlelight catching in his beard and glinting off the silver band on his ring finger that your mother slipped on with shaky hands one courthouse morning.

You swallowed hard, tearing your eyes away, trying to focus on your friends, on the mashed potatoes, on anything but the way Joel kept looking at you when your mother wasn’t watching.

Anything but the fact that he knew you weren’t calling him daddy for a reason.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The living room was dimly lit, the last sliver of pink sunset bleeding through the windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor and the frayed edges of the old throw rug your mother refused to replace. You sat curled up in the corner of the couch, remote in hand, aimlessly scrolling through Netflix with half-lidded eyes, the sound of your friends' soft laughter filling the space around you like warm static.

Your mom had disappeared upstairs just after dessert, fingers laced in Joel’s, her voice pitched high and giddy as she declared, “We’ll leave you girls to your wine and gossip—don’t wait up!” And just like that, they were gone, the creak of the stairs and the hush of a door closing upstairs the only trace of them.

You tried not to think about it. About him. About the way Joel had glanced at you as he stood, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other resting at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long.

“God, what even is there to watch anymore,” you muttered absently, scrolling past title after title, your voice heavy with the kind of lazy boredom that comes after a full meal and a long day. Beside you, Ava stretched out with a little groan, her feet nudging under the blanket as she reached for her glass of wine, while Camila leaned in closer, eyes dancing with a mischievous glint that made your stomach twist even before she opened her mouth.

And then, softly—too softly—like a secret whispered between childhood friends and forbidden crushes, Camila nudged your arm and murmured, “Okay, seriously though… your stepdad is hot.”

The words hit you like a slap. Immediate. Merciless. Your whole body tensed, your spine straightening as if on instinct, fingers clenching tighter around the remote as you turned toward her, eyes wide, heartbeat stuttering.

“What the hell?” you snapped, louder than you meant to, the heat rising to your cheeks so fast it felt like fire, like shame, like panic. “Camila—what the actual—”

But she was already laughing, head thrown back, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her glass as she looked at Ava, who only grinned and shrugged, clearly amused by your reaction. “Relax,” Camila said through her giggles, waving a hand like she could brush it all away. “I’m just saying. The flannel? The beard? He’s got that, like, hot handyman-slash-mountain-man energy. You know I have a type.”

You blinked at her, words stuck in your throat, your brain short-circuiting beneath the weight of something you didn’t want to name—something clawing up your ribs like guilt. You wanted to tell her she was out of line. That it was gross. That Joel was married to your mother, for God’s sake. But instead, all you could manage was a choked-out, “He’s—he’s not—he’s—just—stop.”

And it was Ava’s turn to raise a brow, her smile a little too knowing. “You’re blushing,” she teased, her voice sing-song and cruel in the way only best friends could be. “Oh my God, she’s totally blushing.”

“I am not,” you snapped again, but your voice was unsteady, your face burning, your entire body suddenly too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. You shoved it off, stood up too fast, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you made your way toward the kitchen, trying to pretend like you weren’t unravelling, like your skin wasn’t tingling in places it shouldn’t be.

Because they didn’t know.

They didn’t know the way Joel looked at you sometimes when your mother wasn’t watching. They didn’t know how his voice dropped when he said your name. They didn’t know how his hand had brushed your waist this morning when he reached past you for the sugar and you felt it for hours.

They didn’t know. And you were terrified they might find out.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Camila and Ava had long since fallen asleep in the downstairs guest room, their quiet breaths threading through the stillness of the house, the kind of deep, wine-soft sleep that only came with familiarity and full stomachs and the comfort of being a guest rather than the daughter. Upstairs, you lay in your childhood bedroom, the sheets cool against your skin, your fingers twisting absently in the hem of your tank top as you stared at the ceiling—unmoving, unblinking, like maybe if you kept your gaze steady enough, long enough, it might finally offer you answers to questions you didn’t know how to ask out loud.

It wasn’t that late yet—just brushing past midnight, the witching hour when everything felt thinner, when walls couldn’t hold in secrets and silence started to echo. You wondered if your mother and Joel were asleep already, or if they were still awake in the room down the hall, the one that used to be hers alone before he arrived with his heavy boots and toolbox and made himself at home. A small, traitorous part of you imagined them lying in bed together, her curled against his chest, his arm draped protectively around her waist as he whispered something low and fond into her hair.

You cringed at the image. Not because it was gross. Not because you didn’t want your mother to be happy. But because the weight that coiled inside your stomach at the thought of her in his arms wasn’t disgust—it was jealousy. Quiet, bitter, shame-soaked jealousy that tasted like guilt and felt like sin.

You turned onto your side, fingers pressing into the mattress like you could ground yourself with touch, like maybe if you pressed hard enough you’d stop the thoughts from blooming. But they kept coming, gentle and relentless, winding themselves around you like ivy. You wondered if either of them had noticed the way you always looked away when they kissed in front of you, or the way you flinched ever so slightly when their hands found each other in passing, fingers laced like it meant nothing, like it was normal.

Maybe they thought you were still adjusting. Maybe your mother thought it was some kind of unresolved grief for your father, that you couldn’t accept the idea of her moving on so quickly, tying herself to someone new. Maybe Joel thought it was awkwardness, or disapproval, or some adolescent refusal to see him as a part of the family.

But the truth was far more dangerous. Far more complicated.

Because you weren’t mourning the past. You weren’t angry about her happiness. You were mourning something else entirely—something unspoken and selfish and terrifying.

You were mourning every moment he touched her and not you. Every laugh he gave her and not you. Every soft glance, every private kiss, every piece of him that she got to keep while you sat in the corner pretending you didn’t notice, pretending you didn’t care.

Your thoughts—feverish and tangled and too loud in your head—were suddenly interrupted by a soft knock against the wooden door, three gentle taps that pulled you back to earth so abruptly you nearly sat upright. You thought, for a second, maybe one of the girls had left something behind—toothpaste on the bathroom counter or a charger cord tucked beneath the sheets—so you called out without thinking, your voice barely carrying across the room.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open with a slow, careful push, and instead of Camila or Ava’s familiar silhouette, it was him—Joel. His broad frame filled the doorway, shadowed in the dim hallway light, shoulders hunched ever so slightly like he hadn’t meant to startle you, one hand braced against the doorframe like he was still deciding whether to step fully inside.

You reached instinctively for your side lamp, fingers fumbling with the switch until warm yellow light bathed the room, casting everything in a soft, golden hush. You blinked up at him, eyes adjusting, breath catching at the sight of him standing there like some kind of fever dream.

“Joel?” you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended, breathless not from surprise but from the sheer weight of his presence, the way he looked in that moment—undone, unguarded, real in a way that made your skin prickle.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, that low, southern drawl curling around the words like smoke, as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a gentle click that sounded far too loud in the silence of the house.

He looked—God, he looked like trouble.

Hair mussed from sleep, silver at the temples and curling slightly where it met the nape of his neck, beard soft and full, still flecked with that salt-and-pepper scruff that made him look older than he was but somehow stronger for it. He wore a plain, threadbare t-shirt, stretched across his chest in a way that made your stomach tighten, sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins in his forearms, the kind that only ever came from years of labor, of building things with his hands. His grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, worn soft with age, and barefoot—he looked every bit the rugged, rough-edged man who fixed your mom’s house and accidentally broke something inside of you.

It wasn’t technically unusual for Joel to be in your room—sometimes he’d swing by to drop off something you left in the kitchen, or fix the ceiling fan that rattled in summer, or bring you tea when you were sick and shivering in bed, too weak to do anything but mumble thanks. He’d stand by the door usually, or maybe lean against the wall, say something gruff but kind before disappearing again.

But not like this.

Not late at night. Not when the rest of the house was asleep. Not when you were lying in bed in nothing but a thin camisole and panties, heart stuttering like it didn’t know what to do with itself.

You shifted again, this time a little more nervously, the sheet clutched tighter around your lap even though it did nothing to hide the way your body responded to his presence—your skin flushed and warm, your breath shallow, nipples still visibly peaked beneath the whisper-thin fabric of your top. You saw it then, the way Joel’s gaze flickered, just for a second, dragging across your chest before meeting your eyes again, and something about the way he didn’t look away fast enough made your stomach twist into knots. He wasn’t trying to pretend. He wasn’t playing dumb.

He came to sit on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion tilting you slightly toward him. He braced one hand beside him, the other resting loosely on his knee. “Were you asleep?” he asked, voice low, his drawl even rougher at this hour, as if it had crawled up from his chest and hadn’t quite settled in his throat yet.

You shook your head slowly, trying not to look too guilty, too obvious. “No,” you said quietly. “I… couldn’t sleep.”

Joel nodded, like he already knew, like maybe that’s why he was really here, not because he happened to be passing by. “Your friends were nice,” he said after a pause, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that could’ve been amusement—or warning. “That Camila though… she’s trouble.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound a little shaky as you tried to exhale the nerves tightening inside your chest. “Yeah,” you said, nodding. “She is.”

Joel looked at you for a long moment, the silence stretching thin, and then asked, voice low and even, “You have fun?”

You answered too quickly. “Yeah.”

He didn’t miss it. His brow furrowed, not deeply, just enough to signal that he’d caught something he didn’t like, that he could hear the wrongness in your tone the way he could spot a crooked nail from across a room. “What’s wrong?” he asked, that same hand still braced on the bed beside you, his fingers so close to your thigh you could feel the heat of him even through the sheet.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head, eyes darting away before you could stop them. “It’s nothing, Joel.”

He tilted his head, slow, deliberate, voice soft but firm like he was coaxing the truth out of you the same way he might coax a wild animal from the woods. “C’mon, sweetheart. You know you’re not a great liar.”

Your throat went tight. You pressed your lips together, tried to hold it in, tried to act normal, tried to act like your skin wasn’t tingling in every place he was near.

“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “Just… one of them said something. Kinda weird.”

Joel straightened a little, his eyes narrowing with something darker, a flicker of protectiveness tightening his jaw. “Weird?” he repeated, his voice sharper now. “They say somethin’ mean to you?”

“No—no, nothin’ like that,” you rushed to say, shaking your head, heart beating hard enough that you were sure he could hear it in the quiet room. “It wasn’t mean. Just…”

He waited. He didn’t speak right away, just tilted his head slightly, the soft creak of the mattress the only sound between you as he waited for you to gather the courage to speak.

“They said something,” you murmured finally, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes trained on your fingers where they twisted nervously in your lap, knuckles white from the tension you refused to let rise to the surface. “About you.”

Joel was quiet for a beat, then let out a low, careful hum. “Oh,” he said, not shocked, not offended, just… waiting. Another pause. “Okay.”

You looked up at him then, meeting his gaze for the first time since the words had started tumbling from your mouth, and it felt like standing too close to the sun—too warm, too intense, too dangerous. His eyes were calm, steady, and yet you felt like they were peeling layers off you without even trying.

“You can tell me,” he coaxed, his voice the softest kind of gruff, the kind that scratched gently at your throat and made you ache in places you didn’t have names for. “Ain’t gonna get upset, sweetheart. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding louder now, the heat creeping up your throat in a slow, mortifying wave as you looked down again. “They just…” you huffed, frustrated with your own inability to say something so simple, so ridiculous, even though it had been clawing at your thoughts all night.

“They said you were…” you trailed off, then forced yourself to look up, cheeks burning as you finally let the words escape. “They said you were ‘hot,’” you mumbled, using your fingers to make sarcastic little quotation marks in the air, the motion clumsy and half-hearted, your voice wrapped in embarrassment and something else—something you couldn’t disguise.

Joel blinked slowly, like he was processing it carefully.

He just sat there, eyes fixed on you, expression unreadable but far from indifferent, and in the quiet that followed, something in the air shifted. It was subtle—barely a breath—but it was there. Heavy. Humming. Like the moment before a summer storm breaks.

And then, finally, in that low, quiet drawl that had already undone you more times than you cared to admit, Joel tilted his head and said, “That right?”

You gave the smallest nod, unable to find your voice, your cheeks hot under the weight of his gaze.

He chuckled, and it was somehow worse than silence—warm and familiar and achingly beautiful, the kind of laugh that wrapped around you like smoke, like comfort, like danger disguised as something gentle. “That’s what’s got you all twisted up, honey?” he asked, his voice teasing now, smooth as whiskey and just as sharp. “That why you’re up past midnight, lookin’ like you got somethin’ sittin’ heavy on your chest?”

“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, the words spilling out too fast, too defensive. “It’s just—” you shrugged, eyes falling to your lap again, “weird.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, the mattress shifting slightly beneath his weight as he leaned in just enough to make you feel it—his presence, his size, the scent of him that smelled like cedar and something warmer, deeper, something male. “Ain’t that weird,” he said, like it was fact. Like you were the one being unreasonable.

You blinked at him, heart stumbling over itself. “What?”

He shrugged, one corner of his mouth tugging into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What—you think I’m hideous or somethin’, darlin’?” he asked, voice laced with mock offense, but there was something beneath it, something hot and coiled and barely leashed.

“No,” you said quickly, instinctively, your body tensing. “No, but—”

Joel cut you off with a slow, quiet laugh, the kind that sent goosebumps across your arms. “D’you agree with your friend?” he asked, his voice quieter now, lower, thicker, like molasses sliding slow over bare skin. “Simple question, angel.”

You swallowed hard, every part of your body suddenly too aware of itself—your hands, your legs beneath the sheet, the way your breath caught in your throat. “I—” you stammered. “You’re my—my stepdad. It’s weird.”

Joel’s expression didn’t shift. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t flinch. He just watched you, calm and steady, as if your panic was a ripple in a pond he’d already seen coming.

“Ain’t weird,” he said again, this time definitively, like he was putting the matter to rest, the final nail in a coffin you didn’t even realize you’d built together. “You’re my stepdaughter, sure,” he said, voice slow, smooth, dragging each word like he wanted you to feel them deep in your chest, “but that don’t change the fact that you’re a goddamn stunnin’ girl.”

Your breath hitched.

His eyes flicked down for a heartbeat—your lips, your collarbone, the outline of your thighs beneath the sheet—before meeting yours again. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with seein’ beauty, even if it’s standin’ right in front of me in my own house. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with noticin’.”

His hand flexed again against the mattress beside you, the muscles in his forearm shifting subtly, a quiet tension that mirrored the storm building between your ribs.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’, either,” he said again, and this time it wasn’t casual or dismissive—it was low, like a confession, like he meant every word, like he wasn’t just talking about himself.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising too fast, falling too slow, and before you could control it, your thighs—hot and aching beneath the thin layer of sheets—pressed tighter together in a desperate attempt to calm the pulsing ache that had bloomed low in your stomach. But it was no use. Your body betrayed you before your mouth could even try to lie.

And Joel saw it.

Of course he saw it. He always did.

He let his gaze drop, just for a moment—just long enough to trace the path of your clenched jaw, your flushed chest, the twitch of the blanket where your legs shifted beneath it—before dragging his eyes back up to yours with a slowness that made your skin feel like it might catch fire under the weight of it.

“It’s wrong,” you said, barely more than a breath, and even you could hear how unconvincing it sounded. Your voice faltered halfway through the sentence, like your mouth was trying to say something your heart didn’t believe.

Joel’s lips parted in a soft, nearly pitying sound, almost like a laugh—but gentler, rougher, like he was mourning the guilt you were dragging behind you like a chain. “That why you’re squirming, sweetheart?” he asked, voice like gravel and honey, rich and wrecked and too kind for the words it carried. “Sittin’ there all flustered, lookin’ at me like I done somethin’ to you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The air felt thick enough to drown in.

Joel leaned in just a little, his voice dipping lower, like the walls had ears and he didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was about to say.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me takin’ care of you,” he murmured, slow and steady like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Makin’ you feel good. Keepin’ you safe. It's my job, ain’t it?”

You swallowed hard, and he saw that too.

He kept going, not touching you, not even leaning closer—just letting his voice wrap around you like his hands would, if you asked.

“These boys your age… they don’t know how to treat you,” he said, his mouth curving into something soft, something almost sad. “Don’t know how to be patient. Don’t know how to listen.”

His hand shifted slightly on the mattress, just enough to make the sheets pull tight where his thigh pressed close to yours.

“They’ll rush you,” he said, voice barely a whisper now. “Use you up. Leave you empty.”

He let the words hang, heavy and devastating.

“I’d never do that to you, baby.”

You let out a soft sound—breathless, choked, almost involuntary—the kind of desperate little noise you might’ve tried to bury into a pillow if you were alone, but now it just slipped out, raw and real and open, hanging there in the charged air between you.

Joel’s eyes darkened instantly, and his voice followed like a velvet trap. “Aw, angel,” he cooed, low and dripping with something syrup-thick and sinful, “you’re aching, ain’t ya?”

You nodded, barely, shame crawling up your spine, your thighs clenching again under the sheets like you could hide the truth from a man who already saw it, already knew. And yet… you nodded. You nodded because it was true. Because every cell in your body felt hot and heavy and needy in a way you couldn’t soothe on your own anymore.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about, sweetpea,” he murmured, shaking his head slow like you’d just said something silly, something naive. “It’s normal,” he added gently, like this was a lesson. Like he was here to teach. “You’re a girl with needs, and I’m a man who understands ‘em. Ain’t nothin’ dirty about that.”

His hand came up, calloused fingers brushing your cheek with a kind of reverence that made you dizzy, his thumb stroking softly under your eye like he could smooth the guilt out of you if he just touched you gently enough. “Sweet girl,” he whispered, so low it made your chest ache, “always so good for me.”

You felt warm all over, like something inside you had melted and was slowly seeping into every inch of your body, like honey left in the sun.

Joel leaned back just slightly, humming low in his throat, eyes never leaving yours, like he was thinking—weighing something. And then, in a tone so casual, so infuriatingly calm it made your stomach twist, he said, “How ‘bout I help you out, huh?”

You blinked, confused, dazed, the words hitting you like warm water to the face. “Help me?” you asked, voice small and hesitant, caught between fear and want, your hands twisting in the sheets like they might anchor you to the moment.

He nodded slowly, his hand sliding from your cheek to rest on your knee—over the sheet, but the heat of it still bled through like a brand. “I want you to show me, baby,” he said, his voice still soft, still that same gentle, soothing register, like he wasn’t asking you to cross a line you could never come back from. “Show me how you do it when you’re all alone.”

Your breath caught. Your face burned. The blush that bloomed across your cheeks felt like it went all the way down to your chest, to your core, to every private place you’d ever touched in the dark.

“I—Joel,” you stammered, but your voice crumbled before it could form a protest.

He tilted his head, squeezing your knee through the sheet, patient and unbothered. “Ain’t nothin’ to be shy about, angel,” he said, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “You think I don’t know you been lyin’ here at night touchin’ that sweet little pussy all quiet-like, tryin’ not to make a sound?” He let out a low chuckle, but there was no cruelty in it—just warmth, affection, like you’d done something precious.

“Bet you rub that clit nice and slow, tryin’ to make it last, huh?” he murmured, eyes locked on your face, watching every tiny reaction like he was reading scripture. “Bet you squeeze your thighs together after, all messy ‘n wet, pretendin’ you’re not thinkin’ ‘bout me.”

You buried your face in your hands, humiliated and flushed, but Joel’s voice pulled you right back out, soft but firm. “C’mon now. Be a good girl and show me.”

You hid your face in your hands, hot with shame, your entire body throbbing with heat, soaked in places you didn’t dare acknowledge, and still trembling with that same awful, beautiful ache—the one that told you this was wrong, and yet made it impossible to pull away.

You were mortified, confused, soaked to your thighs and full of a desperate longing that made your skin feel too tight, your thoughts tangled and wet and unbearable.

Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, curling in your stomach like smoke. “You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, gentle and coaxing and so sure of the answer he didn’t need to hear it.

But you nodded anyway, fingers twitching as you lowered your hands just enough to meet his gaze, tears brimming in your eyes though you didn’t even know what you were crying for.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and that phrase—good girl—broke something loose inside of you, made your breath catch and your throat tighten like it meant something more than just praise. Like it meant ownership. Like it meant love.

Then, in a voice that was suddenly lower, rougher, more dangerous and yet still laced with the same softness that made your stomach flip, he said, “Now go on, baby. Show your daddy how you take care of that pretty little pussy when you’re all alone, thinkin’ ‘bout me.”

You whimpered, the sound barely making it past your lips, and shook your head a little, helpless. “I—I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice cracking like it was made of glass.

Joel gave a quiet, affectionate sigh, like you’d just said the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. “That’s alright, sugar,” he said, sliding a heavy hand beneath the sheet and letting it rest there for just a moment before slowly, deliberately, peeling it back.

You froze as the cool air met your bare skin, the way his eyes didn’t look away, didn’t hesitate, just drank you in like this was the most natural thing in the world, like he wasn’t your stepfather and this wasn’t your childhood bed, like this was inevitable.

“Let’s take this off then,” he said, more to himself than to you, as he folded the sheet down past your hips, your thighs, your trembling legs, until you lay there exposed, vulnerable, soaked through your panties with shame and arousal.

Joel’s eyes swept over your bare thighs, lingering on the soaked fabric clinging to the soft curve of your cunt, the way it shimmered faintly in the low lamp light like it was glowing—wet, messy, desperate. You hadn’t even touched yourself yet, hadn’t done more than breathe, and still, your body had betrayed you, eager and hungry and utterly undone just from the sound of his voice, the scrape of his knuckles, the weight of his gaze.

And Joel saw it.

Of course he did.

He let out a soft, almost pitying coo as he shook his head, tongue pressing briefly to the inside of his cheek like he was trying to hold back a sigh. “Honey,” he murmured, slow and low, that molasses drawl laced with disappointment more than anything else. “You’re drippin’, baby.”

The words weren’t cruel, but they still cut through you like a knife, made your skin prickle and your breath catch, not because he was mocking you—but because it was the truth. Because it was said like a reproach, like he was gently scolding you for keeping this from him. Like he was hurt.

“Jesus,” he whispered, shaking his head again, the softest furrow in his brow. “You waitin’ this long to ask for help, baby? Layin’ up here, soaked and achin’, all by yourself?” His voice dropped even lower, eyes still fixed on the wet patch that was growing darker by the second. “That ain’t good for you, sweetpea. All that tension. Sittin’ in your belly like poison. You know better than that.”

You whimpered, small and mortified, your eyes stinging with some ugly cocktail of shame and want and that unbearable tenderness only Joel could wring out of you.

“You shoulda come to me,” he said, as soft as a prayer, his hand drifting up to rest against your thigh, close but not touching—not yet. “Coulda knocked on my door, baby. Just a tap. I’d’ve taken care of you real easy. Real sweet.” He let out a quiet sigh, like this hurt him more than it hurt you. “But instead you’re up here, rubbin’ those pretty little thighs together like that’s gonna do the job.”

You whimpered again—quiet and pathetic, a sound barely born before it trembled out of your lips—and Joel made a sound that was halfway between a groan and a sigh, his whole body shifting like it hurt him to hear you like that, like your suffering was something sacred. “My sweet girl,” he rasped, rough with reverence, and as if the words alone weren’t enough to mark you, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, slow and tender and terrifying in its intimacy.

You froze.

It was almost absurd—after everything, after the confessions, after the filthy words spoken in soft murmurs, after sitting in your soaked underwear before him like an offering—but that kiss, that small, chaste brush of lips to skin, shattered you in a different way. You and Joel had never shared physical affection beyond fleeting, innocent moments—a hand to your back when you were sick, a brush of shoulders in the kitchen, the occasional hand-off of a cup of tea or a charger cord. But this? This was different. This was personal. This was loving.

More intimate than anything else he could have done.

And then, his voice dropped again, low and drawling, thick with heat and authority. “Alright,” he said, his tone like velvet soaked in whiskey. “Take those panties off real slow for me, sugar. I wanna see that sweet pussy beg.”

Your breath caught hard in your throat, your fingers twitching against the sheets, and for a second you didn’t move—couldn’t move—because the words had landed so heavy, like a weight dropped into your chest. But then, with trembling hands and a heart that felt too big for your ribs, you obeyed.

You reached down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, soaked through and clinging to your skin, and began to ease them down, slow and hesitant, your eyes flickering up to meet his just once, just long enough to see the way his gaze had darkened—hungry, wild, but still soft. Still Joel.

The damp fabric peeled away from you, shame dripping off you in waves as you slid the panties down your thighs, over your knees, until they slipped past your ankles and landed in a silent heap on the floor beside the bed.

You were breathless now—your chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps, your skin flushed from head to toe, your legs trembling beneath you—and you didn’t even know if it was from fear or want or that horrible, beautiful mixture of both.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He just looked.

Eyes fixed between your legs, steady and unhurried, drinking in the sight of you like it was something holy, something he didn’t quite deserve to see but was going to relish anyway. His gaze was slow, heavy, and unbearably calm—as if he hadn’t just coaxed you into peeling off your soaked panties and baring yourself in the soft hush of your childhood bedroom with the door shut and your mother asleep down the hall.

And then, in that voice—low, rough, coated in syrup and sin—he spoke.

“Spread them legs for me, baby,” he murmured, each word drawn out like he wanted them to linger in the air with you. “Let daddy see all that slick.”

Your cheeks flushed so hot it made your head spin, and for a second, your instinct was to turn away, to close your legs, to hide. But instead—God help you—you smiled, small and shy and aching with embarrassment and need, your body humming with the unbearable thrill of being seen.

Joel smiled too—lazy, pleased, touched with something warmer than it had any right to be. “That’s my good girl,” he said, the praise so soft and familiar it made your chest ache. “Gettin’ comfortable for your daddy, ain’t ya?”

You nodded, almost bashful, your thighs parting just a little wider beneath his gaze, the air cool against your soaked skin as the wet heat between your legs pulsed steady and demanding.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice sinking even lower, that dangerous softness thickening into something you could feel in your bones. “Go ahead. Show me how you rub that sweet clit.”

You hesitated only for a moment, heart pounding so loud it was all you could hear, and then—because you couldn’t not obey him, because the way he was looking at you made you feel small and precious and filthy all at once—you did as he said.

Your fingers slid between your thighs, tentative and trembling, and when they brushed over your swollen folds, a broken little gasp left your mouth—because you were soaked, slick, messy in a way that made your face burn with shame, and Joel saw all of it. Your fingertips found your clit, swollen and begging, and you gave it the lightest, slowest circle, your legs twitching as your breath stuttered.

Joel let out a low groan, like the sight pained him, like he was holding himself back from something feral. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his eyes fixed to your fingers like he was hypnotized. “Touch her real gentle. Let her know daddy’s watchin’.”

“That feel good?” he asked, voice low and slow, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it—wanted it offered up like a gift on your trembling tongue.

You nodded, breath shaky, fingers still working soft circles against your clit the way he told you to, hips twitching just a little with every pass. “Y-Yeah,” you whispered, too dazed to even pretend you had shame left in you.

Joel tilted his head slightly, that familiar crease forming between his brows, not angry—just expectant, like a teacher waiting for the right answer from a student who already knew better. “Yeah what, baby?”

You swallowed, chest fluttering with nerves and something hotter, deeper, heavier. Your voice was barely a whisper when it left you, breath catching halfway through.

“Yes, Daddy.”

The sound he made in response was filthy—a low, deep groan rumbling straight from his chest, so raw it made your thighs twitch and your core clench. You could see it in his face, the way his jaw went tight, how his hand flexed again where it lay on the bed, like he was holding himself back from something that required restraint.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and those two words—so soft, so reverent—landed heavier than anything else, sinking into your skin like praise and ownership all at once. And then, with a tenderness so at odds with the filth between you, he placed one big, warm hand on your thigh—his thumb brushing soothing little arcs into your skin—and leaned in to press a quick, burning kiss to your shoulder, beard scraping against your skin, his breath hot and damp where his lips had just been.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, baby,” he whispered, barely pulling back. “Such a sweet girl—touchin’ herself just like Daddy asked.”

You whimpered, spine curving as your fingers moved faster now, helpless under the weight of his words, his touch, his eyes. You did as he said—not because you had to, not because he forced you, but because the sound of his voice, the heat in his gaze, the approval dripping from every word made you want to be good. Made you want to be his.

“Keep goin’, sugar,” Joel said, his hand tightening just slightly on your thigh. “Let Daddy see you fall apart. Let me see what that sweet little pussy looks like when she comes.”

Your fingers moved faster now, slick and shaky, the soft pressure turning greedy, desperate, your hips rising off the bed in tiny, involuntary pulses as the heat in your belly began to coil tighter, higher. The room was filled with the wet sound of your arousal—loud, obscene, almost embarrassing in how eager you were—and still Joel said nothing for a moment, just watched, eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t name, something between awe and hunger and ownership.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, like he was trying to commit the sound, the scent, the sight of you to memory, and his voice dropped an octave, ragged around the edges.

“Look so fuckin’ sweet spread out like this for me, baby,” he said, almost like it hurt to say, like the words tasted too good in his mouth to come out clean. “My precious girl… puttin’ on the prettiest damn show a man could ask for.”

Your breath hitched at his praise, your thighs twitching, fingers circling your clit faster now, harder, your other hand clutching the sheets like you’d fall through the bed without it.

“You gettin’ close, sweetheart?” Joel asked then, and his voice—low, rough, tender—wrapped around your body like a second skin, like heat itself. “That little pussy about to come just from your fingers, huh? Just from daddy watchin’ real nice?”

You nodded, too frantic to form words, mouth falling open in a soft gasp as your body trembled beneath his gaze, every nerve ending alive and raw.

He leaned in just a little, resting his forearm on his knee like this was casual, like this was just a late-night conversation and not your stepfather watching you masturbate in your childhood bed.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, voice thick with hunger but still achingly gentle, like he was speaking to something sacred, something tender and breakable. “Good girl—look at that messy lil’ cunt cryin’ for me, fuckin’ weepin’ like she’s been starved her whole goddamn life.”

And that was it.

The coil snapped.

You came undone with a shattered, strangled whimper, hips jerking beneath your own hand as the orgasm ripped through you like heat lightning—fast and sharp and blinding. Your whole body shook, your thighs clenching tight around your wrist as slick spilled out of you in wet pulses, and the only thing tethering you to earth was the sound of Joel groaning, low and ruined, like the sight of you breaking for him had knocked the breath clean out of his lungs.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby…” he rasped, watching your body twitch and flutter through the aftershocks. “That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Before you could even come down from the high—before you could catch your breath or close your legs—Joel shifted forward, leaned in, and pressed the softest kiss to your still-pulsing, overstimulated clit.

You shuddered, your legs trembling violently, your whole body jerking like you’d been shocked, because it was too much—too much—and still, he kissed you there, soft and wet, like it was a mouth made to be worshiped, and he had every right to worship it.

“Can't wait to eat this sweet pussy all fuckin’ day,” he muttered against your folds, so filthy it made your toes curl. “Could live off what she gives me.”

You let out a noise—half a sob, half a gasp—your legs twitching in overstimulation, your chest heaving, eyes wide and glassy with something too big to name.

Then Joel was moving—pulling back, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something divine, and reaching for your face with hands that were still so gentle it made you ache. He cradled your cheek like you were porcelain, and leaned in close, eyes locked to yours.

And then, for the first time, he kissed you.

It was dizzying—soft and sensual, lips slow and reverent, his breath fanning across your cheek as his mouth moved over yours like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it right. No filth. No commands. Just Joel. Just him.

When he pulled back, his forehead just barely grazing yours, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the whole damn world worth saving—like he’d burn the house down if it meant you’d never feel lonely again. His thumb brushed tenderly across your lower lip, tracing the shape of your mouth like it belonged to him, and his voice dropped into a soft, hushed whisper.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he murmured, reverent, wrecked, like you’d just done something brave instead of obscene.

“You… are?” you asked, barely able to get the words out around the haze still curling in your chest, that dazed warmth thick and dizzying in your veins.

“‘Course I am,” he said instantly, the words falling out with such quiet certainty it made your chest tighten, his voice steady and heartbreakingly sincere, like there wasn’t even the possibility of doubt in his mind. His thumb brushed your cheek again, slow and warm, and he looked at you with something so proud and tender it nearly broke you. “You were real brave for me, sugar. So sweet. So good.”

His voice dipped lower, softer now, almost like he was sharing a secret meant for your skin alone.

“Touched yourself like an angel, baby. Like you were made to be watched.” He let out a shaky breath, still a little wrecked himself, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “The way you spread those thighs, all flushed and achin’... shit, sweet girl, you made yourself come so pretty for me. Like you’d been waitin’ your whole life to let someone see.”

And God help you, but you smiled at that, soft and small and shy, your heart thudding unevenly in your chest as you leaned back up to kiss him again—slow, sweet, a little unsure but filled with something quiet and blooming.

He moaned against your lips, low and approving, one hand cradling your jaw as he deepened the kiss for just a moment, like he couldn’t help himself, like the taste of your mouth was something he’d never stop craving.

“Gonna keep makin’ you feel good like you deserve, sweetpea,” he whispered when he finally pulled back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. “Just gotta get you ready for me first, yeah? Can’t rush somethin’ this special.”

“Okay,” you breathed, and the sound of your own voice surprised you—how soft it was, how trusting.

Joel smiled like he already had forever planned out.

“Good girl,” he said, and your heart stuttered. Then, with a gentleness that made your throat ache, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing back your hair like you were something cherished.

“Now get some sleep,” he whispered. “Daddy’s right here.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮⠀⠀Track One: Pedro Pascal ⠀⠀ ֗ ۪ .⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀ ⠀ׂ

the one with the good girl popstar the one with the runway model the one with the first time blunt the one with the elusive actress

headcanons

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮⠀⠀Track Two: Joel Miller ⠀⠀ ֗ ۪ .⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀ ⠀ׂ

the one where ellie finds out first the one where joel doesn't love you

headcanons

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮⠀⠀Track Three: Harry Castillo ⠀⠀ ֗ ۪ .⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀ ⠀ׂ

the one with the secret pregnancy

headcanons

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮⠀⠀Track Four: Ted Garcia ⠀⠀ ֗ ۪ .⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀ ⠀ׂ

the one where ted fucks you in his office

Michael sported a childish grin — the corners of his lips tugging each side as he fought to suppress it.

“A camera.”

“I can see that, honey, but what’s it doing out while we’re kissin’?” Your tone had Michael pulling his bottom lip between his lips.

“Wanted to try somethin’.” He revealed, his voice soft and sweet despite the sensual undertone.

You’d barely been situated in Michael’s lap five minutes, lips moving feverishly against his own, anticipating some intimacy with your man, before the clicking of the Sony Handycam CCD-M8U you bought him for his birthday started a recording.

“Come on, baby, keep goin’.” He whispered — behaving like a producer backstage of a performance, using hushed tones to support you with your next act.

You shook your head in protest — lips parting to tell him to turn that damn thing off. But, it was Michael’s way or no way. He perched up from slightly beneath you, capturing your lips again on his own. You could sense the camera on you as Michael slid his eager tongue into your mouth — the wet muscle exploring yours as his right hand levitated in the air, capturing every second of your private moment. His spare hand slid up the centre of your spine, fingers tips tracing the dip, pushing you closer to his chest.

“Michael, turn it of—“ “Shh, just let it happen, doll.”

His muffled dismissal against your lips had you huffing into his — giving up fighting him. Luckily for Michael, you soon forgot about his little friend in the air — your enclosed lip-locking becoming increasingly more heated as time pursed. Your hips ground against his own involuntarily, muscle memory kicking in from your many previous sensual encounters, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. Michael hummed into your mouth at the sound of your first pretty noise of the night — the excitement of his future self watching the tape back and watching your neediness increase in real time had him buzzing.

Michael bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway — a genuine whine of desperation leaving your mouth against his own, still locked in a ferocious kiss. Your hands encased his flushed cheeks, holding him dearly close to you, your whines blossoming into authentic moans of pleasure as your throbbingly touch-starved clit nudged against the painfully obvious bulge in his slacks.

Your lips left Michael’s in a frantic, needy frenzy — planting hot, open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, lips dragging along the spectacularly chiseled bone, smothering the skin in your mauve lipstick. Before following his anatomy and furthering your pout down his neck, licking a tentative stripe down the slope.

Michael shuddered under your brutal teasing, hands twitching around the camera ever so slightly. He peered up at it, ensuring he was capturing you in the perfect way.

“Gosh, baby, y’look so pretty like that.” Michael breathed, titling his head back to allow you to expand your surface area of tentative licks, “Kissin’ all on me like that.”

At this point, all the sense you had to smack that camera out of Michael’s hand had long left your head. Now, all you were interested in was pressing hot kisses down Michael’s chest, shoving the loose shirt off his torso to give yourself more room to worship his body with your mouth.

Above you, Michael had managed to shift the camera angle down, now holding the painfully obvious equipment with two hands, resting on his heaving chest — angling it just right to show your arched frame moving down his body, lipstick marks forming on his glossed skin. Your manicured hands reached the waistband of his slacks before peering your head up from his crotch, eyeing him seriously, as if to say put that thing away now.

“Please?” His pleading, slightly whiny voice had any form of judgment you’d once obtained now ten feet out the window as his eyes sparkled above you — lip threatening to fall into a pout as the camera taped you rolling your eyes before unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his thighs. Michael grinned excitedly as you pressed your chest close to the aching bulge in his boxers.

“Wow, you really do like that camera, huh?” You teased, tracing a calculated finger down the ridge of his hard cock.

Michael hissed at the sudden, feather-light touch, knuckles going white around said tech, lip being gnawed by his pearly whites at the sight of you between legs.

“Quit teasin’.” He spoke shyly, his eyes flicking between the screen and your in-person frame, an anticipatory smile on his face.

Usually, Michael would dislike it when you suck his dick — believing his lady should be pleasured and looked after, not made to strain herself for only his gain. But, he knew how you secretly enjoyed having your throat stuffed full, rendering completely at your mercy, so every once in a while, he’d allow it.

That and you looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth.

Especially on camera.

So, when your lips wrapped around the flushed head of his proud cock, Michael didn’t know whether to focus on making sure every second of this was caught on video, or the feeling of intense delight you were succumbing him to. You suckled the tip just how he liked, his salty, yet equally delicious, pre-cum flooding your taste buds, relishing in the way the perfect dip in his eyebrows adorned his face — he was crumbling.

“S-Shit, sweetheart, doin’ so good.” He panted, thighs tensing against your hands as you steadied yourself on the meaty muscle.

You slid him deeper, tongue dancing over the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, while your pretty fingers wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly in beat with your eager mouth. Michael watched you like a hawk — heart thumping in his chest so hard he was certain the tachycardia was going to send him into cardiac arrest at the way your seductive, doe eyes fluttered up at him through your lashes.

“Oh, Lord.” He heaved, head falling back against the pillow as the head of his swollen manhood punched the back of your throat — a loud gag of rejection sounding out into the room.

Michael secretly adored when you did that.

In his trance of lust, the camera slipped from his grasp, sliding down his side, leaving his hands free to slither down and cradle your face. You noticed.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You teased, pulling off his cock with a pop, saliva connecting you even in disengagement, “Thought you wanted it filmin’, angelface?”

Michael whined, trembling hands leaving your face to pull the camera back into his possession — focusing the lense to put you back into shot. Michael’s breath hitched at the sight — even on the choppy, blurry screen, your blown out pupils, tear-streaked, flushed red cheeks and swollen lips glossed with spit and his pre-cum had him twitching in your hand as you pumped him slowly.

“Look so fuckin’ good, girl.” He admitted, furrowed eyebrows hidden between the large hunk of plastic as he watched through it, “Can’t wait to watch this later.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to the head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbled down him with the tip of your tongue, smiling at the way Michael whined, “Oh, you dirty dog, Michael Jackson.”

Michael chuckled cheekily, “Come up here, wanna feel you.”

Obeying his orders, you let his hardened cock fall against his tensed abdomen, climbing up him once more. Your hips settled either side of him against, clothed pussy lips now hugging the thickness of his cock through your soaked panties.

“Well, would you look at that?” He started, a teasing finger coming down to toy with your damp underwear, a whine leaving your lips at the tentative touches, “Looks like you’re enjoying this after all, hm?”

You failed to reply — words catching in your throat as his finger traced the outline of your aching clit through the thin material, your lips parting at the sheer sensuality of his touch.

“Where’s that teasin’ girl gone, hm? Cat got your tongue, mama?”

“Michael.” Your voice a whiny, needy plea of despair.

“What, baby? Talk to me. Tell me whatcha’ need.” He coaxed, his tone a gentle dominant force that your mouth rambling to answer, to please.

You whined, hips rolling against the hard of his cock, rubbing alongside the pad of his finger that remained flat against your nub, “Plea—please, need it—need to feel you.”

Michael’s hand, steadily holding the camera, angled it perfectly to show your needy pussy humping his cock, as well as the eyebrows knitted in lust on your pretty little face — his cock twitching at the thought of fucking his hand to the recording later.

Michael tapped your hip, demanding you lift your hips to have access to your drooling cunt. He peeled the drenched cotton panties from your puffy pussy lips, tucking them to the side of your vulva. With practiced ease, Michael slid an expert finger between the slickness of your cunt — collecting the sweet essence of your arousal on his digits. With methodical swiftness, a long finger of Michael’s slipped into the clenching hole which needed him most.

“Mmh, such a pretty pussy, doll. Got all wet just for me?”

Michael knew the answer, he just loved to hear you say it. Loved to hear you admit in your drunken state of ecstasy that he was the one to make you slick with arousal. Michael’s fingers moved with excellence you were stunned by each and every time — the relentless abuse against the sweet, spongy spot inside you that had you crying out, tears jerking from your ears at the sheer force of the sensation.

“Ooh, there she go,” He whispered, the ball of his hand coming up to roll against the excluded nub that was screaming for touch, a move that had you sobbing, “That’s the spot, huh, ma? So good it got you cryin’ f’me, hm?”

His name left your swollen, cum-stained lips in a wretched sob, nails digging into the flex of his bicep, gripping on for dear life as you fucked yourself onto his hand.

“Y-Yes! Yes—o-ah! Yes, God, Mike—gonna cum!”

Michael could’ve laughed at the way your face dropped in sheer disbelief as he pulled his hand away from your sopping cunt after your confession of near climax. Your chest heaved, clit throbbing as your eyes welled up, pulling on Michael’s heartstrings.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your pouting lips, “Need you to cum around my cock, babygirl, yeah? Can you do that for me, pretty lady?”

You nodded meekly, bottom lip still jutted out in protest as Michael guided his cock between your shaking legs. Just as his burning hot tip slid into the familiar, wet comforts of your hole — your disappointed pout fell into a gasp of relief.

Michael laughed, his free hand coming to pull on your bottom lip, cock slipping further inside you, “Don’t want this out again, you hear me? No poutin’ girls around here.”

You nodded feverishly — not ever wanting to disobey him, in fear he’d take away the one thing that’s fulfilling the desire that burned fiercely inside you, as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The camera, still rolling, captured all of this — the way each inch of his cock disappeared slowly, your pretty pussy lips wrapped around his shaft, your slick drooling around him.

You whined, feeling impossibly full as he bottomed out, seating you fully down onto his pelvis. His own bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, admiring the sight of your perfect frame on top of him.

“Oh, I bet you’re so full, huh, baby? Usually don’t let y’ride me first — can feel that pussy throbbing.” He confessed, laughing softly as you whimpered, his free hand slithering up your bared body — making sure to record his hand palming your tits through your lacy bra.

Michael wasted no time pulling the material off your body, reaching behind you to flick the fastener apart one-handed — watching as the bra fell from your chest, your perky tits on full display to him, and the camera, of course. His teasing fingers crawled up you, grabbing a gentle handful of your right breast, humming at the feeling of the soft skin and the sound of your desperate moan. You shuffled around him — wincing at the feeling of his perfectly curved cock nudging your quivering walls, awaiting the approval to start moving.

No matter what you were doing — Michael was always in control.

Michael moved his hand to roll your erect nipple in between his nimble fingers, “Go’head, girl, show me how much you need it.”

You didn’t wait for him to change his mind, not that he would with the way you were clenching eagerly around him, lifting your hips off him, about half-way, before slamming back down. Your head fell back instinctively, a cry of sheer joy slipping from your lips, only encouraging Michael to throb inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, falling apart after one bounce? Can do better than that.” He teased, smirking at the way you bit your lip shyly, suddenly embarrassed at how much effect he had over you.

Your hips rose again — now bouncing with the help of Michael’s tight grip on your hip, pulling you up and down on him. You whined, cheeks flushed in timidity as he hummed behind the screen.

“Oh, that’s the fuckin’ money shot, girl. My baby’s a natural. Look at that pussy—fuck, yeah, doll, keep goin’.”

Michael’s words of encouragement had you crying out — moaning in pure lust as his cock continued to relentlessly nudge against the best spot inside you, one he never failed to hit each time. Michael’s hand cradled your hips dominantly, grinding you down with each movement, rubbing your clit onto his neatly groomed pubic bone, failing to hide the smirk that crept onto his face at the sound of your needy noises.

“That’s it — let me hear you, darling.”

“Mike.” You whined, hand coming up to grabs handful of your tits and the other holding yourself up on his chest, slick with sweat. Michael’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight of you — seductively playing with your perky breasts, nipples rolling between your fingers like he once did, head thrown back, mouth agape letting your slutty moans fall upon his perked up ears.

Now, this was the shot.

Michael couldn’t wait another moment. Throwing the camera down on the bed, he lifted you up with both strong hands, pulling you off his slicked cock, and laying you down gently on the bed with ease.

“Mikey.” You whinged, “Please.”

“I know, sweet thing, ‘m coming back, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Michael slid you onto your side with ease, one shaking leg laying over the other, revealing your swollen cunt. He slid a soft hand over your skin, squeezing the plush of your ass, humming at the sight of you beneath him. He picked up the discarded camera once more, pointing it down at you once more.

“Now, this,” He started, “is the perfect position for when my baby’s gettin’ recorded. Y’know why, sweet girl?” He spoke, sliding the flushed head of his cock between your drooling folds, ignoring the way you whined loudly, peering up at him as if to beg him to shut up and just fuck you, “Because I can see this perfect ass, cute lil’ waist, beautiful titties, and most importantly,” He complimented cheekily, free hand sliding over each body part as he listed them, before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb, “This pretty little face makin’ the cutest faces while I fuck her needy little pussy.”

Michael entered you in one swift motion — the cutest faces he was referring to filling your expression, a loud cry leaving your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer, a chant, as he rocked into you deeply — his cock-end nudging your cervix each time, sending you clawing at the bedsheets. Pleased with himself, Michael smiled behind the camera once more, angling it down perfectly to capture every aspect of you he listed — tits bouncing, ass recoiling against his abdomen, face contorted into pleasure and his cock sliding in and out of your raw cunt, a white, milky ring forming around the base of him.

Michael was in heaven — knowing this video wouldn’t be your last as he watched you through the small screen, hand now clawing at his flexed arm, nails digging into the skin as he filled you.

“Michael, Michael!—fuck, Mike, please, God, fuc—“

“Hmm, that’s right, dollface, tell me all about it. Feelin’ good?”

You whined desperately, clit throbbing against his free hand that had slithered between your sweating bodies to rub tight, practiced circled onto the aching nub, “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Mikey, please, don’t sto—ah!”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweet girl,” He admitted, leaning down, not caring about the camera angle, as he pressed soft kisses to your face, some landing on your parted lips, now only bothered about your pleasure, “Cum around me, baby, wanna feel it.”

The nearing peak of your orgasm crawled down your body, nestling in your abdomen, body slowly igniting in fierce heat. The sheer explicitness of the intimate moment had adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins. Your trembling hand reached across the bed, taking a hold of the camera once more, holding it out for him.

“Want it to see you fill me up wit—ah!—with your cum, Mikey, please.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Your provocative declaration had him frantic — doubling over, one hand on the bed, the other steadying the camera, fucking you twice as fast. Your cries only getting louder as he pounded the sweet spot inside you over and over again, his name being screamed so loud you were certain the whole house could hear.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—there! ‘M there!”

You orgasmed with a cry so loud it had Michael cursing under his breath at the eroticism — revelling in the way your cunt squeezed him, sucking him in further as you came around him, nails dragging down his tensed back.

Michael wasn’t far behind you, fighting every urge in him to throw the camera away and fuck his seed so far into you that you’d be swollen with him for days, but holding it firmly in his grasp, recording just how sweetly your cunt milked him for everything he had to offer, your slickness pooling beneath you. He, though, forced himself as deep into you as he could go — making sure the camera picked up on his your cunt accommodated the sheer size of him, his milky white cum now frothing around the base of his softening cock.

He slowly pulled himself out of you with a wince, “Hold still for me, babygirl.” He ordered, forcing your legs to stay open as he leant down between your thighs, groaning at the way his cum drooled out of your swollen cunt, sliding down your shaking thighs.

Feeling a sense of post-orgasm confidence, you slid two tentative fingers between your legs, dipping into your sopping cunt, collecting both your juices onto your digits. Michael could sense where this was going, softened cock twitching, threatening to harden as you slipped your slick fingers into your mouth — sucking the mix of your salty and tangy essences clean from your burning skin.

“Holy shit, baby,” Michael breathed, feeling as though he was capturing pure talent through the screen as you released your fingers with a pop, similar to how you did with his cock prior, eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk,

“Got myself my own filthy lil’ pornstar, huh?”

“Baby,” he said softly, already reaching for you the second you got close enough. You sighed dramatically. “You’ve been ignoring me for an hour.”

“I’m working.”

“Yeah..sure.” He finally glanced up then, amused by the pout on your face. Mature era Michael always had that unfairly calm expression when he knew he was getting under your skin. “Come here,” he murmured. You stepped between his knees and immediately his hands settled on your hips, warm and possessive through the thin fabric of your skirt. He leaned back in the chair, staring at you quietly for a second before smiling a little. “Attitude today?”

“You started it.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, did I?” His fingers slid slowly along your thighs, teasing, unhurried. The movement made you inhale sharply and he noticed immediately, eyes darkening just slightly. Michael loved that—loved seeing your composure crack first.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“Mama,” he said lowly, thumb rubbing against your skin while you tried not to react, “you get needy so fast.” You rolled your eyes, but it was weak. “S-shut up.” That only made him laugh softly. “So pretty when you’re pretending not to want me.”

The worst thing about Michael was how patient he was. He’d keep you right there between his legs, touching you slowly until your hands ended up gripping his shoulders for balance. Meanwhile he stayed completely composed, looking up at you with that lazy little smile like he had all the time in the world. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Can barely stand still. Mmh.”

“Michael…” You bite your lip. “Mmhh..There she is,” he whispered instantly, voice warm with satisfaction the second you finally sounded desperate for him. “That’s my baby.” He smirks and bite his lips. “You’re gonna’ have to keep it down mama, if you don’t want to get caught. I’ll gladly fuck you in the middle of my office with an audience if it meant that everyone knows you’re mine and I’m yours, you wan’ that?”

He carefully placed you down on his lap, and lifted your skirt, to put his hands down your skirt. “Spread your legs baby.” He helps you spread your legs wider with his big hands. His fingers ran down your pussy to dip into your soaking hole. Oh and did i mention he already took your panties of?? You let out a moan and touched his wrist as he took his wet fingers and circled your clit with them.

“Ohhh yess moan for me baby. Moan for me. That’s a mama mmhh.” he cooed into your open mouth. Your breath fanning his face as he started to finger you harder and faster.

“Fuck, look at thattt, you’re so fucking wet mama. Hear your delicious juices already squirting around my fingers” His fingers curled up to hit your g spot and you were convinced that your half of your skirt were completely soaked at this point. “That feels good Mmh?” He grabs his clean hand to make you look at him. You can also feel that he’s hard.

Then, He slides his second finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot again, Making deeeeep eye contact with you and that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He tried and adds a third finger… yes girl, a third one.

stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars. “A-ah! ff-fuckk, michael! Yes!”

You came hard on his fingers with a loud, shuddering scream. “Michael—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed hard, thighs clamping around his fingers, shaking your head and stopping his hand, powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. “Fuckk.. atta girl, mmhh so, so good.”

Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers gushing wetly on his lap and fingers while he continued to rub your clit, to see a small reaction. “Mean, huh? aww look at you mama.”

through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. His other hand stayed firmly on your hand that’s stopping him.

you fix yourself on him and your skirt then turning towards him very shy… his eyes meet yours. “you did so good mama. So good.” he says, squeezing your legs softly. you two smile at each other and he hugs you right. “You really embarrassed me, Michael.” You said shyly. (◞‸ ◟)💧 He kisses your forehead. “Don’t be embarrassed’ mama, you did so well.”

mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. First time writing smut.. heh nervous >.< its lwk ahh.. so I’ll probably delete it.

the soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room, punctuated by the rhythmic thumping of her heart against her ribs. michael’s arm was draped loosely over her waist, his thumb tracing absentminded circles over the silk of her pajamas. they were both tangled in the heavy duvet, the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting silver stripes across his messy curls.

he leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne—something woody and familiar—filling her senses as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crook of her neck. she felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. when he pulled back, his dark eyes searched hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. he seemed to sense the shift in the air, the way she leaned into his touch instead of away.

"you okay?" he whispered, his voice low and gravelly in the quiet of the night.

she nodded, reaching up to brush a stray hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering there. "just thinking."

"about?"

"about how much i want you," she admitted, her voice barely a breath.

michael’s expression softened, a small, tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he moved with a slow, deliberate grace, hovering over her while keeping his weight on his elbows. his hand moved from her waist to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. he was being so careful, so attentive, as if she were something precious he was afraid of breaking.

"i want you too," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. "but we go at your pace. always."

she reached up, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted like a promise. it started slow, a gentle exploration of heat and friction, but as he pulled her closer, the rest of the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of them in the cocoon of the blankets.

instead of the shy nod or the hesitant smile he was used to, she surprised him. she reached up, her fingers sliding firmly into the thick curls at the nape of his neck, and pulled him down with a sudden, deliberate strength.

the kiss was nothing like their usual gentle exchanges. it was bold, hungry, and carried a level of confidence that caught him completely off guard. she didn't wait for him to lead; she claimed his lips with a desperate fervor, her tongue tracing the seam of his mouth until he arched into her. she was kissing him as if she couldn't get enough, her movements assertive and demanding.

michael’s eyes widened for a split second against her skin, his breath hitching in his throat. he noticed the way she didn't shrink back, the way her hands didn't tremble but instead gripped him with a new sense of authority. he could feel the shift in her energy—a raw, famished intensity that replaced her usual bashfulness. it was as if she had finally decided to stop holding back, and the sheer power of her confidence sent a jolt of pure electricity through his chest.

he leaned into it, his own hands tightening on her waist as he realized that tonight, the girl he usually protected was the one taking exactly what she wanted.

michael pulled back just an inch, his lips still brushing against hers, a breathless, surprised chuckle vibrating in his chest. he looked down at her, his dark eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and genuine heat. the usual shyness he was so accustomed to had completely vanished, replaced by a fire that left him feeling slightly lightheaded.

"wow," he murmured, a playful, lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he tightened his grip on her waist. "what's gotten into you all of a sudden? i've never seen you this... assertive."

he let out a soft, teasing hum, his nose nipping at hers as he studied the newfound confidence in her gaze. "not that i'm complaining, mind you. but you're being so bold tonight, it’s almost like you’re trying to take charge of me."

his voice was a low, melodic velvet, dripping with a lighthearted challenge. he tilted his head, watching her closely, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as if he were trying to uncover the secret behind her sudden spark. "is there a reason you're acting so hungry for me? because you're definitely keeping me on my toes, and i’m starting to think i might have my hands full."

she didn't answer with words. instead, she let out a soft, shaky exhale and pulled him back down, her lips finding the sensitive skin of his neck. she bit down ever so slightly, a tiny nipping motion that made him groan low in his throat, before she began to trail frantic, wet kisses up toward his ear. her body was pressed flush against his, and he could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way she seemed to be searching for every ounce of contact possible.

her hands weren't still for a second; they wandered under the hem of his shirt, her palms flat against his warm skin, moving with a restless, starving energy. she was no longer just responding to him; she was pursuing him, her movements filled with a raw, undeniable hunger that made his head spin.

michael felt his own heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. the playfulness in his expression began to fade, replaced by a heavy, hooded look of realization. he caught her wrists gently, pinning them against the pillow for just a moment to force her to look at him, his own breathing coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

"hey," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, becoming thick and serious. he searched her eyes, seeing the dark, dilated pupils and the sheer wanting written across her face. "you're really... you're really feeling this tonight, aren't you?"

he let go of her wrists, his hand sliding down to rest over her heart, feeling it mirror the frantic pace of his own. he leaned in until their foreheads were touching, his voice barely audible.

"is this what you want? do you want to go all the way tonight?"

she looked up at him, the bold fire in her eyes momentarily softening into something more vulnerable as the weight of the question hung in the air. a light flush crept up her neck and settled into her cheeks, and for a second, she looked away before meeting his gaze again with quiet resolve.

"yes," she whispered, her voice a little small and trembling, but filled with a depth of feeling that was unmistakable. she took a shallow breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i’m sure, michael. i... i’ve never wanted anything more. i really want this. with you."

michael’s expression was a portrait of pure, tender devotion. even with the heat of the moment pulsing through him, his protective nature remained at the forefront. he didn't move immediately; instead, he searched her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone as if he were trying to read every thought behind her eyes. he wanted to make sure there wasn't a single shred of doubt or pressure hiding in her heart.

"are you absolutely sure?" he asked, his voice low and incredibly gentle, like a velvet caress. "there’s no rush, you know. we can stop right now, or we can just keep kissing. i only want this if it’s exactly what you want, right this second."

he leaned in, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from hers, giving her every opportunity to back away. "i need you to be certain, okay? because your comfort means more to me than anything else in this world."

she let out a frustrated, needy whimper, her fingers tightening in his hair as she pulled his face back down toward hers. the wait was becoming unbearable, the heat in her belly coiling into a tight, desperate knot.

"yes, michael, please," she breathed out, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "i’m sure. i’m so sure. i’m literally begging you, stop talking and just... please."

a low, devilish chuckle vibrated in michael’s throat. he didn't move to continue; instead, he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with a look of pure, playful mischief. he took his time, his eyes traveling slowly over her flushed face and her parted lips, clearly enjoying the way she was squirming beneath him.

"begging, are we?" he teased, his voice dropping into a velvety, rhythmic drawl. he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, but he didn't kiss her. "and here i thought you were the shy one. i've never seen you so... impatient. what happened to that sweet, quiet girl i know?"

he trailed his fingers slowly down her side, barely touching her, just enough to make her skin prickle with anticipation. "you seem really, really desperate, sweetheart. are you really that hungry for me? because it’s kind of cute seeing you lose your cool like this."

he gave her a tiny, lingering peck on the tip of her nose, his eyes dancing with lighthearted malice. "maybe i should make you wait just a little bit longer, just to see how much more assertive you can get."

michael didn't make her wait any longer. he silenced her desperate protests by capturing her lips in a deep, languid kiss that seemed to pull the very air from her lungs. it wasn't the hurried kiss from before; this was slow, honey-thick, and incredibly thorough, his tongue dancing with hers in a way that made her head swim.

as they stayed locked together, he slowly shifted his weight, his lean body sliding over hers until he was fully draped against her, pinning her softly into the mattress. he was careful not to crush her, but the solid feel of him from chest to toe made her let out a muffled moan into his mouth.

his hands began a restless journey, roaming over her curves with a possessive but tender touch. he caressed the line of her hips, his palms sliding up over her ribs, his fingers grazing every inch of skin he could reach.

"you’re so beautiful," he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and smelling of mint. "you have no idea what you do to me when you look at me like that... so hungry, so sweet."

he broke the kiss to trail his lips down her jaw, his voice dropping into a raspy, seductive whisper that sent electricity through her veins. "i love how you feel underneath me. your skin is so soft, and you're so warm... you're perfect, you know that? absolutely perfect."

he moved his hand up to cradle her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip as he looked down at her with a gaze that was both incredibly soft and intensely dark. "i'm going to take such good care of you tonight. i promise. i'm going to show you exactly how much i love you."

the heat was becoming all-consuming, a fever that radiated from the core of her being and turned her blood into liquid fire. every place their skin met felt like a beautiful burn, and she found herself pressing closer, desperate to merge into him, to lose the boundary where she ended and he began. it was a physical hunger she had never experienced before—raw, heavy, and pulsing behind her ribs.

yet, woven through that burning desire was a sense of profound, quiet wonder. she felt like she was standing on the threshold of a vast, undiscovered world. every sensation was a revelation: the specific weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the rough-soft texture of his fingertips, and the low, melodic vibration of his voice against her skin. it was the thrill of the unknown, a dizzying mix of adrenaline and discovery that made every second feel like a lifetime.

she looked up at him, completely entraged, and found herself utterly succumbing to his spell. the way the moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw and the softness in his eyes made her heart ache with a fierce, overwhelming devotion. he wasn't just the man she wanted; he was her entire world in this moment, a steady anchor in the middle of this rising storm of sensation.

under the weight of his gaze and the tenderness of his touch, all her defenses simply melted away. she let herself fall, surrendering entirely to the charm he radiated, trusting him to lead her through this new territory. it was a total eclipse of the senses, where nothing existed except the heat of his body, the sweetness of his promises, and the beautiful, terrifying thrill of finally giving herself over to him.

sensing her anticipation, michael slowly pulled back, though his eyes never left hers. he moved with a deliberate, graceful rhythm, sitting up just enough to reach for the hem of his shirt. he wanted to show her there was nothing to fear, turning the simple act into a gesture of trust and vulnerability that only heightened the intimacy between them.

as he gripped the fabric and pulled the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. seeing him like this—the lean strength of his shoulders, the smooth expanse of his chest glowing under the soft silver moonlight—sent a fresh jolt of heat through her. he was breathtakingly beautiful, a perfect mix of power and gentleness, and the sight of him bare before her made the room feel suddenly much smaller and warmer.

he tossed the shirt aside, his gaze dropping back to her with a soft, knowing smile. he could see the way her eyes widened, the way her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths as she took him in.

"you okay?" he asked, his voice a low, honeyed rasp. "you're looking at me like you want to eat me alive."

the sight of his bare skin made her impatience flare into a desperate, localized ache. she reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the line of his collarbone, her touch light but hungry. the confidence he was trying to instill in her had worked almost too well; she wasn't just comfortable anymore—elle était absolument impatiente.

she watched him, mesmerized by the play of shadows across his muscles as he moved, her mind racing with the realization that this was finally happening. she felt a surge of pride knowing that all of this—all of him—was hers in this moment, and the need to feel his skin against hers again, without any barriers, became a driving, frantic force in her mind.

"you're... you're so beautiful," she breathed out, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and pure, unfiltered desire. the words seemed to escape her before she could even think to hold them back, her eyes tracing every line of his torso with a hunger that made no effort to hide itself.

hearing her say it—seeing the genuine adoration and the raw want in her gaze—sent a visible shiver through michael. his pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black, and he let out a low, shaky breath that sounded almost like a growl. her appreciation was the ultimate spark; it didn't just boost his confidence, it set his own blood on fire.

"you have no idea," he rasped, his voice thick with a new level of intensity. "you have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

he leaned back over her, capturing her lips again in a kiss that was much deeper and more possessive than the last. while his tongue tangled with hers, his hands moved with a slow, agonizingly careful precision. he reached for the first button of her pajama shirt, his fingers brushing against her skin, sending sparks dancing across her nerves.

one by one, he undid them, his eyes locked onto hers every time a new inch of skin was revealed. he moved with a reverence that made her feel like a masterpiece he was finally allowed to unveil. once the shirt was open, he didn't stop; his hands slid down to the waistband of her pants, his touch light and grounding.

he began to slide them down her hips with a slow, teasing pull, his movements so steady and deliberate that it only made her more frantic. she arched her back slightly, helping him, her breath hitching as the cool air hit her skin before being immediately replaced by the radiating heat of his body. he stayed close, his lips never leaving hers for more than a second, ensuring that even as the clothes disappeared, she felt completely enveloped by his presence and his touch.

with her pajamas finally gone, the cool air of the room felt like a sharp contrast to the radiating heat of michael’s body. he didn't move away to admire her from a distance; instead, he draped himself back over her, his skin finally meeting hers in a full, seamless contact that made her let out a long, shaky breath. the feeling of his bare chest against her own was a revelation—firm, warm, and pulsing with the same frantic heartbeat that was thundering in her own chest.

he propped himself up on his forearms, his dark curls falling forward as he looked down at her. his expression was no longer just playful; it was filled with a raw, almost reverent wonder. his hands, large and steady, began to wander again, tracing the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips as if he were memorizing her by touch alone.

"you have no idea," he whispered, his voice vibrating deep in his throat, "how long i've dreamed of seeing you like this. you're more beautiful than any vision i could have had."

she felt a surge of pure, unadulterated power at his words. the sight of him—this global icon, this man she admired so deeply—looking at her with such desperate, hungry devotion made her feel invincible. she didn't shrink away; instead, she arched her back, pressing her body more firmly against his, her hands sliding up his back to grip his shoulder blades.

she was famished for him, her touch becoming more insistent, her fingers digging into his muscles as she pulled him back down for another kiss. this one was even more intense, a silent communication of her readiness. she could feel his restraint beginning to fray, the way his muscles tensed under her fingertips, and it only fueled her confidence further. she wanted him to lose that legendary composure; she wanted to see exactly how much power she had over him.

michael let out a low, ragged moan into her mouth, his hands tightening on her hips. he could feel her impatience, her body practically vibrating with the need for more, and it was driving him over the edge. he began to trail a path of burning kisses from her lips down to her throat, his breath hitching as she tilted her head back to give him better access.

"you're so ready for me, aren't you?" he breathed against her skin, his voice a mix of awe and dark, simmering heat. "i can feel it... you're literally shaking."

michael’s hand slid down, his fingers grazing the elastic of her panties with a touch so light it was almost agonizing. he moved with an excruciating slowness, his eyes locked onto hers, searching for any flicker of hesitation even as the air between them grew thick with tension.

he hooked his thumbs into the sides of the fabric, inching them down over her hips. he paused halfway, his knuckles brushing against her skin, and he took a shaky breath to steady his own racing heart. the playfulness from before had completely vanished, replaced by a deep, protective seriousness that belonged only to her.

"last chance to change your mind," he whispered, his voice sounding thick and raw in the quiet room.

he didn't move another inch, holding the fabric in place, giving her the space to breathe and think. his gaze was a soft, dark velvet, grounding her despite the storm of heat swirling in her belly.

"i want this to be perfect for you. so i need to hear it again," he murmured, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her hip. "do you still want this? do you want me to keep going?"

he waited, his body poised and tense, showing her that even in his own state of desperate need, her choice was the only thing that mattered. he was hers to stop or hers to claim, and he wanted the answer to come from her own lips.

she didn't hesitate for a single second. "yes," she breathed out, the word more of a plea than a simple answer. "please, michael. keep going."

his gaze softened with an intense, soul-searing tenderness before he finally slid the last barrier away, tossing it onto the floor. the moonlight seemed to dance over her skin, and for a moment, he just looked at her, his expression one of pure, silent adoration.

"i've got you," he whispered, his voice like a vow. "i promise, i've got you."

the final barrier was gone, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. michael hovered over her, his eyes dark with a mixture of reverence and a heat so intense it felt like it could melt the very air between them. he didn't rush; he was being so incredibly patient, his every move designed to make her feel like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

he propped himself up on his hands, his gaze traveling over her in the silver moonlight, making her feel completely seen. "you're so beautiful," he whispered again, his voice sounding raw and strained by his own restraint. "it's almost like you're made of light."

he began to kiss her again, but this time his hands were everywhere—mapping the curve of her waist, the soft skin of her thighs, his palms hot and steady against her. his touch was firm yet gentle, a soft dominance that made her feel safe enough to let go of every remaining inhibition. she felt the weight of him pressing her into the mattress, and it sent a fresh wave of fire through her veins.

she was more than ready—she was starving. the initial shyness had completely evaporated, replaced by a bold, hungry confidence. her fingers dug into the muscles of his back, her nails grazing his skin as she pulled him closer, her hips arching instinctively against his. she was making tiny, desperate sounds in the back of her throat, her breath coming in shallow hitches that mirrored the frantic beating of his own heart.

michael let out a low, shaky groan, his forehead dropping against hers as he tried to catch his breath. "you're making it so hard to be slow, sweetheart," he rasped, a playful yet desperate edge to his voice. "you're being so assertive tonight... it’s driving me absolutely crazy."

he began to use his hand to explore her further, his touch incredibly patient and fluid. he watched her face closely, his dark eyes searching for every reaction as he teased her with a slow, rhythmic grace. each movement was a promise of what was to come, but for now, he was content to let the tension build until she was practically vibrating beneath him, her confidence only growing as she realized just how much power she had over him.

michael shifted his weight slightly, hovering just over her, his dark eyes sparkling with that familiar, playful mischief. instead of giving her what she was so clearly begging for, he began to tease her, his touch ghosting over her entry with an excruciating slowness. he brushed against her, close enough to make her gasp, but deliberately held back from any real progress, just testing the waters to see how she would react.

the sensation was dizzying. a sharp, intense jolt of electricity shot straight up her spine, making her hips tilt upward instinctively to chase his touch. every tiny friction felt magnified, a rush of brand-new, overwhelming feeling that made her skin tingle and her heart pound like a hammer against her ribs.

"michael, please," she whined, her hands gripping his shoulders so tightly her knuckles turned white.

a low, pleased chuckle vibrated in his chest. he nipped at her lower lip, his gaze locked onto hers, thoroughly enjoying the sweet torture he was putting her through.

"you like that, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a gravelly, seductive velvet. he shifted just a fraction of an inch, teasing her again in a slow, circular motion that made her arch off the bed completely. "look at you... you're practically melting. i told you i wanted to see how impatient you could get."

he was deliberately heightening every single sensation, making her feel the agonizingly beautiful contrast between his hot skin and the cool air of the room. she was completely at the mercy of his rhythm, her breath coming in ragged, desperate pants as she realized he was testing her newfound confidence, daring her to see just how much of this sweet torment she could take before she completely lost her mind.

the playful smirk on michael’s lips softened into something much darker and more intense as he watched her squirm beneath him. he could feel the frantic heat radiating from her skin, and the temptation to push her newfound confidence just a little bit further was too hard to resist.

"you're so impatient tonight," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper against her cheek. "let's see if we can make you lose that bold little attitude completely."

slowly, deliberately, he shifted his hand down. he didn't give her what she was begging for; instead, he eased a single finger inside her.

the sensation was sudden and overwhelming, a tight, burning wave of friction that made her breath catch sharply in her throat. she let out a loud, breathless gasp, her toes curling into the sheets as she felt the solid, warm intrusion. it was entirely new, a deep and pulsing feeling that filled her just enough to make the ache for more absolutely unbearable.

"michael..." she whined, her head tossing back against the pillow as her hips instinctively hitched upward, trying to pull him deeper.

"hush, sweetheart," he coaxed, letting out a soft, satisfied hum at her reaction.

he kept his movement agonizingly slow, curling his finger slightly inside her in a lazy, rhythmic motion that seemed to target every single nerve ending. he watched her face closely, admiring the way her eyes clouded over with pure pleasure and how her lips parted, desperate for air. he was completely taking his time, using that single finger to tease her, mapping out her warmth and stretching the tension until the room felt like it was about to burst from the sheer heat between them.

the agonizingly slow rhythm was driving her completely over the edge. the single finger moving inside her with such lazy, deliberate precision was creating a tight, coiling friction that made her entire body tremble. the initial confidence she had shown earlier had melted into a desperate, beautiful vulnerability, and she couldn't hold back anymore.

"michael... please," she gasped, her voice cracking as she threw her head back against the pillow. her hands moved from his shoulders to his wrists, her fingers tightening around them as if she could pull him closer by force. "i can't... please don't make me wait anymore. i need you."

michael stopped his movement for a heartbeat, hovering just over her. a low, heavy groan escaped his throat at the sound of her begging, his composure finally showing signs of cracking under the weight of her pleas. but he still didn't give in completely; instead, he leaned down until his lips were brushing the shell of her ear, his breath hot and ragged.

"need me to do what, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a deep, raspy whisper that sent a fresh wave of electricity down her spine. "tell me exactly what you want."

"you," she sobbed out softly, her hips moving instinctively against his hand, chasing the contact that was driving her crazy. "i want you inside me. please, michael, i'm begging you... stop teasing me."

hearing her speak those words so desperately, without a shred of her usual bashfulness, sent a visible jolt through him. his chest rose and fell in heavy, shallow bursts, and the playful glint in his dark eyes vanished entirely, replaced by a dark, consuming heat. he slowly withdrew his finger, making her let out a whimper of protest, before he shifted his weight to settle firmly between her thighs, his bare skin pressing flat against hers as he prepared to finally give her exactly what she was crying out for.

michael shifted his weight, his bare skin pressing flat against hers as he positioned himself at her entry. the playfulness was completely gone now, replaced by a deep, protective reverence. he knew how much trust she was placing in him, and he was determined to make this moment as safe and gentle as possible for her first time.

"look at me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice a low, thick melody as he reached up to frame her face with both hands, his thumbs wiping away the sweat at her temples. "just breathe with me. keep looking at my eyes."

slowly, with an excruciatingly gentle care, he began to push forward.

the initial entry was tight and intense, a sharp wave of brand-new friction that made her stretch beneath him, her eyes widening as her fingers dug deep into the muscles of his shoulders. she let out a tight, breathless gasp, her body tensing instinctively at the unfamiliar sensation of being filled.

the moment he felt her tense, michael stopped instantly. he didn't move an inch further, anchoring his weight on his elbows so he wouldn't crush her. his breath was coming in short, ragged hitches, his own muscles trembling from the sheer effort of holding back, but his focus remained entirely on her.

"i'm sorry, i know... just breathe, love," he murmured against her lips, pressing a succession of soft, feather-light kisses to her mouth, her cheeks, and her forehead to distract her from the sting. "i'm staying right here. i won't move until you tell me to."

he waited patiently in the quiet room, letting her body adjust to his presence. he kept his dark eyes locked onto hers, searching her expression for any sign of real distress, his hands smoothing down her arms in a soothing, grounding rhythm.

"how does it feel?" he whispered, his voice dripping with anxiety and tenderness. "are you okay? do you want me to stop?"

she took a long, trembling breath, her eyes locked onto his dark, worried gaze. the initial sharpness began to dull, melting into a heavy, deep warmth that radiated through her entire body as she adjusted to him. the feeling of being completely filled by him, of having him so close, replaced any lingering discomfort with a wave of profound relief and affection.

"no... don't stop," she whispered, her voice still a bit breathless but steadying. a soft, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "i'm okay, michael. it feels... amazing. please don't stop."

hearing her words, a look of immense relief washed over his face, followed by a surge of dark, tender heat. "you're doing so well," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to press a deep, lingering kiss to her lips.

slowly, with the utmost caution, he began to move. his first few thrusts were incredibly slow and shallow, a gentle testing of the waters to ensure she remained comfortable. he kept his hands firmly planted on either side of her head, his eyes never leaving hers, reading every twitch of her brow and every change in her breathing.

as the rhythm established itself, the pace naturally began to deepen. the gentleness of his approach allowed her confidence to flood right back in. she began to find her own rhythm within his, her hips tilting up to meet him, her hands sliding down his back to grip the tight muscles of his waist, pulling him closer. the slow, steady friction was building that tight, coiling fire in her belly all over again, and the quiet room was soon filled with the soft, rhythmic sound of their skin meeting and the quickening pace of their shared breath.

the rhythm between them grew seamless, the initial hesitation completely dissolving into a shared, intoxicating heat. every slow, deep movement became a language of its own, a perfect synchronization of their bodies that left them both entirely breathless.

michael let out a low, gravelly groan against her neck, his restraint finally snapping as he felt the way she was welcoming him, her body completely adapting to his presence. the tenderness was still there, but it was now laced with a raw, undeniable passion. his thrusts became deeper, more confident, driven by the intense pleasure that was clearly washing over him. his skin was slick with sweat, glowing under the moonlight as he pushed them both closer to the edge.

she was completely lost in the sensation, her head tossing back against the pillow as a soft, continuous stream of whimpers escaped her lips. it felt better than anything she could have ever imagined—a deep, heavy ache that was being answered perfectly by every shift of his weight. the confidence she had felt earlier returned in full force; she arched her back to meet him, her legs wrapping tightly around his hips to pull him even deeper, desperate to feel every single ounce of him.

"you feel so good," michael rasped, his voice thick and completely undone. he buried his face in her hair, his chest heaving against hers as the friction built into a roaring fire. "sweetheart... i can't get enough of you."

they were both caught in the exact same storm, riding the wave of a shared crescendo that filled the quiet bedroom with the frantic sound of their breathing and the undeniable rhythm of their love. nothing else existed outside the perimeter of the bed—just the overwhelming warmth, the friction of their skin, and the pure, unadulterated bliss of losing themselves in each other completely.

the heat in her belly was mounting to a fever pitch, blurring the edges of her conscious thought until only pure, instinctual desire remained. through the hazy rush of pleasure, a sudden, thrilling idea took root in her mind. she didn’t want to just be carried away by his rhythm anymore; the overwhelming sensation of discovering this whole new world had unlocked a bold, untouchable confidence inside her. she wanted to see him from above, to feel the power of guiding the friction herself.

before michael could register the sudden shift in her energy, she placed her palms flat against his gleaming, muscular chest and gave a firm, decisive push.

michael let out a sharp, breathless gasp of surprise as his balance broke. he tumbled backward onto the pillows, his dark curls spilling messy across the sheets, his eyes widening in utter astonishment.

taking advantage of his shock, she moved with a fluid, natural grace that surprised them both. she slid her knees up on either side of his hips, straddling him completely and settling her weight over his lap. the sudden change in position altered the angle of their connection entirely, sending a sharp, deep jolt of electricity straight to her core that made her arch her back and let out a shaky, desperate moan.

"oh..." michael rasped, his voice dropping an octave into a completely undone, gravelly register. his hands flew instinctively to her waist, his large fingers gripping her hips tightly to steady her, though he didn't try to take back control.

she looked down at him, her chest heaving, her hair falling like a dark silk curtain around her flushed face. looking at him from this vantage point—seeing the legendary michael jackson completely flat on his back beneath her, his chest rising and falling in frantic bursts, his jaw tightly clenched, and his dark eyes burning with absolute submission to her whim—sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins that was just as intoxicating as the physical pleasure.

"you... you really are full of surprises tonight, aren't you?" he breathed out, a helpless, smoldering smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his grip on her hips tightened, waiting to see exactly what she was going to do with her newfound power.

"i want to try something," she said, her voice dropping into a low, confident murmur that held none of her usual hesitation. she looked straight into his eyes, her lips curving into a small, daring smile as she shifted her weight slightly on top of him, asserting her position.

michael’s breath hitched completely. hearing that fierce, playful confidence in her voice sent a violent jolt of heat straight through him. he stared up at her, utterly captivated, finding her a thousand times more alluring in this moment than he ever could have imagined. there was something intensely intoxicating about seeing her drop all her shyness, completely owning her desires and taking exactly what she wanted from him.

"is that so?" he rasped, his voice sounding thick, deep, and thoroughly undone.

a low, helpless chuckle vibrated in his throat, but his eyes were dark and burning with an intense appreciation. his large hands slid up from her waist to cup the back of her thighs, his fingers digging in softly as he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the universe. he was completely mesmerized by the sheer power she was radiating right now.

"go ahead then, sweetheart," he murmured, his jaw clenching as he braced himself under her gaze, a smoldering, proud smile playing on his lips. "show me. i'm all yours."

she took a deep, steadying breath, keeping her eyes locked onto his as she slowly began to guide herself down. sitting up on top of him changed the angle completely, making the sensation feel entirely new and incredibly deep. she moved with an agonizingly slow precision, lowering her hips inch by inch, giving her body the time to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of having him beneath her.

a soft, shaky gasp escaped her lips as she felt the intense friction of his warmth stretching her all over again. she paused for a moment, her hands resting flat against his firm chest to stabilize herself, her muscles trembling slightly from the sheer concentration of controlling the pace.

michael didn’t try to rush her or force the movement. he lay perfectly still beneath her, his head sunk back into the pillows, but his body was completely rigid with tension. his fingers dug firmly into the soft skin of her thighs, anchoring her, his knuckles turning white from the immense effort it took to keep himself under control.

"you're doing so good, sweetheart," he rasped out, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his neck stood out. his breathing was short and shallow, his dark eyes fixed on her face with a mixture of intense pride and pure, burning desire. "take your time... just like that."

the sheer confidence of being in charge, combined with the slow, deep heat building up between them, made her feel incredibly powerful. she took another shallow breath and let herself sink just a fraction lower, a dazed, blissful smile breaking through her focused expression as she completely mastered the new position.

once she was fully settled and the initial intensity transformed into a deep, comforting warmth, she began to move. she started with a slow, cautious tilt of her hips, testing the waters and exploring the friction of this brand-new vantage point.

the sensation was immediate and overwhelming. moving on top allowed her to feel every single ridge of his warmth, sending a sharp, intoxicating ripple of pleasure straight to her core. she let out a long, trembling sigh, her head bowing forward as her hair brushed against his chest.

michael let out a low, ragged groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his chest. his eyes, which had been locked onto hers, drifted shut for a fraction of a second as his head sank deeper into the pillow. his hands on her thighs tightened instinctively, his large fingers applying just enough pressure to ground her as she set the pace.

"oh, god," he rasped, his voice thick and completely strained by the effort of remaining still. "just like that... you're doing perfectly, love."

encouraged by his reaction, her confidence flared again. she lifted her hips slightly, starting a slow, rhythmic vertical motion that was agonizingly deliberate. she watched his face closely, completely mesmerized by the effect she was having on him. his jaw was clenched, his breath coming in short, jagged hitches, and a fine sheen of sweat was beginning to glow on his shoulders under the moonlight. she was entirely in control now, and the feeling of his complete surrender beneath her was just as addictive as the slow, building fire between them.

the slow, rhythmic friction she was controlling was driving michael completely out of his mind. his legendary composure fractured entirely, and any remaining attempt to stay passive melted away under the sheer intensity of what he was feeling. he was loving this far too much, his body reacting instinctively to the incredible warmth and the perfect angle of her movements.

"ah... sweetheart," he choked out, his voice dropping into a raw, gravelly moan that he couldn't even try to hold back.

his eyes flew open, dark and completely glazed over with pure, unadulterated pleasure. he stared up at her, his vision blurring slightly as he took in the sight of her moving above him, completely owning her power. the feeling of her tightening around him with every slow rise and fall was sweet torture, sending waves of intense heat straight up his spine.

unable to just lie still anymore, his hands slid up from her thighs to grip her hips with a sudden, firm desperation. he didn't take over the pace—he wanted her to stay in control—but he began to lift his own hips slightly to meet her, deepening the friction and pushing himself up into her warmth with every stroke.

his jaw was completely clenched, the muscles in his neck taut as a fine sheen of sweat coated his bare chest. he let out a short, ragged breath with every movement, completely undone by the rhythm she was setting. he was entirely at her mercy, losing himself completely in the sensation of her body against his, his fingers digging into her skin as he rode the wave of pleasure she was giving him.

she kept going, her movements growing smoother and more confident as she locked into the rhythm. the friction was deepening with every single slide, and the sheer pleasure of it was becoming so intense that it completely caught michael off guard. a wave of genuine shock washed over him; he had never expected it to feel this overwhelming, this raw, or this incredibly good.

"oh my god... ah..." he gasped out, a loud, breathless moan tearing from his throat before he could even think to suppress it.

his head thrashed back against the pillows, his dark curls scattering wildly. he was completely undone, utterly defenseless against the pace she was setting. every time she rose and sank back down, a fresh, involuntary whimper or a deep, gravelly groan escaped his parted lips, filling the quiet, moonlit room with the continuous sound of his surrender.

his eyes were wide and clouded with a dazed, completely shocked expression, staring up at her as if he couldn't quite comprehend how she was making him feel this much. his hands remained locked onto her hips, his fingers digging into her skin with a frantic, desperate grip, but he couldn't even manage to lift himself to meet her anymore; he was completely paralyzed by the sheer sensation, entirely at the mercy of her rhythm while his chest heaved in rapid, shallow bursts.

she was completely swept away by the exact same storm. looking down at him and hearing those deep, breathless moans tear from his throat sent a thrilling surge of pleasure straight through her, magnifying everything she was feeling a hundred times over. she was absolutely loving it, the intense, heavy warmth spreading from her core until her entire body felt alive and tingly.

"michael... ah..." she whimpered, her voice cracking as she threw her head back, her hair flying over her shoulders.

the feeling of having him completely inside her, combined with the absolute freedom of setting her own pace, was more intoxicating than anything she could have ever dreamed of. she arching her back, her muscles tightening around him instinctively with every slow, deliberate slide. it felt so good that a dizzying sensation washed over her, making her eyes flutter shut as she surrendered entirely to the rhythm.

her hands moved down his chest, her fingers digging into his slick, warm skin just to find some kind of leverage as the friction built into a roaring fire. she was completely lost in the sensation, her breath coming in short, ragged pants that matched his own, both of them completely caught up in the pure, unadulterated bliss of the moment.

the heat between them was reaching a dangerous, undeniable peak. michael could feel the familiar, coiling tension tightening deep in his belly, a sharp, electric rush warning him that he was starting to approach his limit much faster than he had anticipated.

"sweetheart... wait, ah..." he gasped out, his voice dropping into a desperate, gravelly rasp as his eyes flew open, completely wide and dark with a mix of shock and pure ecstasy.

he was taking an unbelievable amount of pleasure from this, completely overwhelmed by how incredible she was doing. the way she was holding her ground, maintaining that perfect, agonizingly deep rhythm without a single trace of her usual shyness, was driving him absolutely insane. she was handling him so perfectly, adapting to his body with a natural, fierce confidence that made every single friction feel completely magnified, pulling him closer and closer to the edge with every slide of her hips.

his hands on her waist turned frantic, his large fingers digging deep into her skin as his hips gave a small, involuntary jerk upward, completely helpless against the intense warmth wrapping around him. his chest was heaving, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, while a continuous, broken stream of low groans escaped his lips, completely undone by the fact that she was assuring everything so perfectly, leaving him entirely at her mercy.

the tension was completely snapping now. michael could feel himself teetering right on the very edge, the coiling heat in his belly turning into a blinding, electric rush that he couldn't hold back for a single second longer. he truly felt that he was about to finish, and the sheer, overwhelming realization of it completely broke what little control he had left.

"oh god... ah, no... i can't—" he choked out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud, desperate moan that echoed through the quiet room.

his head thrashed violently against the pillow, his eyes tightly shut as his jaw clenched in pure, agonizing ecstasy. he couldn't stop the continuous stream of deep, gravelly groans and breathless whimpers from tearing out of his chest with every single move she made. the friction of her hips against him was far too perfect, far too intense, and every slide felt like a wave of pure fire rushing straight up his spine.

his hands on her waist grew entirely frantic, his fingers digging in with a desperate, white-knuckled grip as his body trembled beneath her. he was completely at her mercy, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his entire being utterly undone by how incredible she felt and how beautifully she was commanding the rhythm that was about to push him over the brink.

the final friction broke through the last of his restraint, and michael completely snapped. the blinding, electric rush coiled deep in his belly finally erupted, pushing him right over the edge into a sudden, shattering finish.

"ah... *oh god*... !"

a loud, raw cry tore from his throat, completely uninhibited and echoed into the quiet room. his hips gave a sharp, involuntary arch upward, burying himself as deeply as possible inside her warmth as his entire body went completely rigid beneath her.

the sensation that washed over him was something he had absolutely never felt before in his entire life. it wasn't just a release; it was a profound, deeply intense wave of pure ecstasy that felt almost spiritual, a complete shattering of his mind and body that left him totally breathless. as the intense, pulsing waves of pleasure washed through him, a look of genuine, profound shock crossed his features. his eyes flew open, completely wide and dazed, staring up at her in utter astonishment as if he couldn't comprehend how a human being could possibly experience something so intensely beautiful.

he couldn't move an inch, paralyzed by the sheer power of it. a continuous, trembling stream of breathy moans and broken whispers escaped his parted lips while his chest heaved in frantic, shallow gasps. his hands, still locked tightly on her hips, were shaking violently, his fingers clinging to her as his head sank back into the pillow, completely undone, overwhelmed, and forever changed by what she had just given him.

the sudden, intense reaction of michael’s body beneath her—the way he completely unraveled and buried himself so deeply inside her—sent a violent jolt of electricity straight to her own core. seeing him that undone, combined with the pulsing warmth that now filled her entirely, pushed her right over the very edge.

"michael... oh!"

she let out a loud, breathless gasp, her voice completely cracking as her own finish hit her like a sudden, beautiful wave. her eyes flew open for a split second, clouded with pure, dazed wonder, before her eyelids fluttered shut and her head fell forward against his neck.

the sensation was overwhelming, a deep, radiating fire that started at her core and rushed through every single nerve ending in her body. her muscles tightened around him in a series of intense, involuntary pulses, matching the rhythm of his own release. she completely lost all control over her body, her hips trembling violently as she sunk fully down against him, unable to move another inch.

she melted completely over his chest, her heart hammering wildly against his ribs. a continuous, soft stream of shaky whimpers and shallow pants escaped her lips, her breath hot against his skin as the intense waves of pleasure slowly began to settle into a deep, comforting warmth. they lay there completely locked together, tangled in the sheets and the moonlight, both of them utterly breathless and trembling from the shared intensity of a moment that neither of them would ever forget.

a low, breathless sound started deep in his chest, vibrating against her where she lay melted over him. before she could even look up to see what it was, the sound broke into a soft, helpless laugh. it wasn’t a mock, but a laugh of pure, unadulterated shock and disbelief.

"oh my god," michael breathlessly chuckled, his head shaking back and forth against the pillow as his shoulders trembled beneath her.

he wrapped his large arms completely around her waist, pulling her even closer against his heaving chest, his forehead coming to rest against her shoulder as the soft laughter continued to escape him. he was just so utterly stunned by what had just happened, his mind still spinning from the sheer intensity of it.

"i can't believe... i mean, sweetheart," he rasped out, his voice a mix of awe and a slight, playful embarrassment as he looked up at her, his dark eyes wide and shining in the moonlight. "you completely took down all my defenses. you handled that like you've been doing it your whole life."

he let out another soft laugh, a beautiful, genuine smile spreading across his flushed face, though his cheeks darkened slightly with a soft blush.

"i mean, look at me... i completely lost it," he whispered, a bit sheepishly, tracing the line of her spine with his fingers. "i was supposed to be the gentle, experienced one, and i ended up finishing so pathetically quickly because of how amazing you were. you completely broke me, love."

she shifted slightly on her elbows, her hair falling around them like a curtain, and looked down into his eyes with a tiny hint of that familiar shyness creeping back in.

"did i... did i really do okay?" she asked, her voice soft and a little hesitant after all the boldness she had just shown.

michael’s smile softened instantly, the playful teasing melting away to leave nothing but pure, infinite tenderness. he brought his hands up to frame her face, his thumbs gently brushing over her cheeks, which were still warm and flushed from the effort.

"did you do okay?" he repeated in a breath, looking up at her as if she were the most incredible thing he had ever seen. "sweetheart, you were absolutely amazing. you completely took my breath away."

he leaned up to press a tender, lingering kiss to her lips, taking his time to make sure she felt every ounce of the gratitude and love washing over him. when he pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes grew a little more serious, filled with a deep, protective care.

"but you know, that’s not even the most important part for me," he murmured, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "the only thing that truly matters is that you had fun. i just want to know how you feel. do you feel okay, love? are you happy?"

"yes," she whispered, a bright, genuine smile breaking across her face as she leaned down to rest her forehead against his. "i feel amazing, michael. it was... perfect."

hearing her words, the last bit of tension completely melted from his body. he let out a soft, contented sigh and wrapped his long arms securely around her back, pulling her down fully against his chest for a deep, enveloping hug. he buried his face in her hair, holding her so tightly and warmly, just enjoying the quiet, rhythmic beat of her heart against his own.

they stayed like that for a long, peaceful moment under the moonlight, his large hands gently stroking up and down her back in a soothing pattern.

but then, that familiar, playful spark crept back into his eyes. he shifted slightly, loosening his grip just enough to look up at her, a beautiful, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"well," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, smoldering purr as he nipped affectionately at her earlobe, "since you did so incredibly well tonight... i have to say, i really hope i get to see this confident, adventurous side of you much more often."

████████

A gentle breeze flows into the sunset-lit living room. It seems as though every piece of furniture that the low rays hit is covered in a deep orange hue, creating a surreal environment around you. You hear the ocean sing from a distance, its scent filling the large penthouse. The birds outside chirp, filling your ears just on top of the television before you. The sound tells you that the birds are making their way to their nests as the day ends. It’s a calming sound, reminding you of how peaceful life has been ever since you married Michael.

The day seemed to go by quicker than you imagined. Having not done anything significant, you thought it would be a slow one. You thought your husband was joking when he told you he didn’t want to do anything special for his birthday, but here you are, sitting next to him on the plush brown couch as he eats a forkful of the cheesecake you baked for him in the morning.

“It’s 6pm already?” He asks, watching his favourite show begin to play right on time.

You huff and cross your arms. “Yup, and we’ve done nothing all day.”

“Well I did say I wanted to relax today.” Michael sinks deep into the couch.

You had so much planned for him today. First you’d make him breakfast in bed, then take in for a walk along the beach and end it off with a lovely dinner along the coast. However, all of that was turned down the minute you brought it up that morning.

With a sigh, you turn yourself towards him. “I thought you said we could celebrate your birthday properly this year.”

He hums, keeping his eyes on the TV. This frustrates you, but knowing Michael, he probably had a good reason not to want something huge for the day. Of course his religious beliefs had something to do with it, but you knew that wasn’t all it was because as he grew older, he became more lenient with religious practices, especially when it came to celebrating birthdays.

You stand up and face him, blocking his view of the TV. He looks at you while shoving another forkful of cheesecake into his mouth with a blank expression.

“You’re blocking the TV, pretty one.” He speaks as he chews, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of the show.

“Come one, Mike,” you whine, “tell me.”

“He chuckles. “Tell you what?”

“Why didn’t you want anything for your birthday?” You fold your hands over your chest.

He chuckles some more, clearly enjoying how something so simple - to him at least - could have his pretty girl this worked up.

“I was just lazy” he shrugs, gently grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss to it before turning you around and propping you on his lap, “Just wanted to rot in here with you, you know?”

“I can’t believe you.” You laugh and he chuckles behind you.

Michael kisses the back of your shoulders. Wrapping his arms around your middle. What an unbelievable excuse right? But you can’t argue with him. He barely gets to have a day to himself, even now as his schedule has calmed down.

“Well I’m not going to sit here and not give you a birthday gift.” You stand up and pretend to dust yourself off before walking away and into the bedroom.

“What-” He protests but shrugs and finishes up the last of his cheesecake, turning his attention back to the TV.

You walk into the large bedroom closet, making your way to the end on your side of the hanging clothes. Once you’re there, you crouch down and pull out a black velvet box tied with a red ribbon. You smile to yourself, untying the ribbon and opening the box. In it is a stunning pink lace set of lingerie topped off with a silky black robe. You begin undressing yourself, staring off with your grey leggings and cotton underwear then your black strap top and then your bra. As you stand there bare, you pick up the lacy bra from the black box and swiftly put it on, then the panties. You slip on the robe before walking out of the room back to where Michael is, still sitting with his arms splayed across the couch.

“Mike?” You call from behind him.

“Hmm?” He answers without looking back.

You roll your eyes and make your way to him, standing in front of the TV again, this time with a sly smile painted across your face. He looks at the black robe and raises an eyebrow.

“Getting ready to sleep already?” He asks, oblivious to what you have planned.

“Untie it.” He stands up; leaving only an inch of space between your bodies; and unites the robe.

“Fuck…” He whispers under his breath as the black robe opens to expose your gift to him.

His eyes roam your perfectly sculpted body. It’s as if a fire in him has been set alight looking at the way his eyes move up and down your body. You watch his eyes slowly darken and a dirty smile paints his face as he continues to drink in the sight before him.

“Gosh, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.” He looks down at you before pulling you into his seductive embrace.

“Oh I know exactly what I’m doing.” You retorted before pushing him back on the couch.

He lands with a soft huff, His eyes darkening more than they had already. You spread his legs a bit to stand directly in front of him before dropping the robe. You run your hands over your body swaying your hips, playing with the delicate pink material. The sight drives Michael insane. His eyes close for a few seconds before he opens them slightly as he watches you dance to whatever rhythm you have playing in your head. Without warning, you drop to your knees and tug at his black sweatpants you forced him to wear that day.

“Slow down, pretty one,” He breathes out as he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull the pants and his underwear off.

You smile at the sight of his large member propped up in front of you. The sight has you drooling, and you feel your panties dampen. God, sometimes you think about how easily turned on you are just by the sight of him. He hasn't even touched you yet and here you are, soaking your pink panties like crazy.

“I don’t want to,” you wrap your hands around his cock, “need you in my mouth.”

Before he can even respond, you sit up slightly and place your lips on his tip, sticking your tongue out and swirling it around the tip the way he showed you how he liked it a few months ago. He sighs deeply and closes his eyes as you bop your head slowly, taking more and more of him into your warm mouth.

“Fuck, baby. Like that. Just like that,” he grunts with his hands trying his hardest not to pull your freshly braided hair.

To say Michael is big is an understatement. He is huge, probably the biggest dick you’ve ever encountered. To be honest, your hands barely make it around this cock as you twist them up and down to make up for not being able to fit him entirely in your mouth. A mixture of your spit and his precum travels down his length as his grunts gradually increase in volume. You look up at him and his eyes are completely shut with his mouth hanging open. This gives you a sudden boost of confidence as you place your hands around his warm balls and massage them slowly, keeping your head bops at a moderate pace. He sucks in air sharply and you can tell the feeling is overwhelming for him. His hands grip the couch as tight as possible as you continue the delicious assault on him for a while longer.

“Shit, pretty one, stop. Stop.” He whimpers, pulling your head up softly.

“What’s wrong?” You frown confused. “I was almost done.”

“I was too close, baby. I want to come inside that pretty pussy of yours.”

His breath is shaky as he replaces your hand on his cock with his own, pumping himself slowly, before he motions for you to stand up.

“Take it off,” he commands, unbuttoning the black shirt he has on.

“No.”

“Excuse me?” He gives you the look, the one look that would scare anyone else if they defied him. It has little to no effect on you now, but you do love seeing him like that.

“Take it off for me,” you say smugly, turning around to expose the ribbons keeping the lingerie on

He scoffs with a grin, throwing his unbuttoned shirt behind the couch before standing right behind you. He places a kiss to the top of your head then your neck and rests his head on your shoulder.

“If you were anyone else I would be very upset with you. You know that right?” he places one more kiss to your neck as he pulls on the soft ribbon keeping your bra on.

“I know,” You sigh as your boobs bounce slightly at their release.

“You just love pushing my buttons,” he pulls on the ribbon on the right of your panties.

“I do.”

“Naughty.” He pulls on the one on the left and your panties fall to the warm floor with a quiet thud.

Without warning he sits back on the couch, turning you around and placing you on his lap this time facing him. Your hips seem to move on their own as they rub against his veiny length. You need him inside you so badly and he can see that. unbeknownst to you, he decides to tease you a little bit, bucking his hips as he wraps his mouth around your hardened left nipple.

“Baby, please,” you moan as you rock your hips harder, your clit’s rubbing against his cock enough to have your juices flooding.

“Patience, pretty one.” He mumbles, swapping your left nippled for the right.

You can’t wait any longer. Once again, you decide to defy him, lifting your hips up and angling his thick cock to your entrance. You look at him with apologetic eyes as you drop your hips, pushing him deeper and deeper into your soaking vet pussy.

You both moan at the feeling of your bodies connecting. Michael’s once annoyed face now melting into something darker, something you should be used to but the way his brown eyes darken with lust for you still catches you off guard. He grunts as you sit, his dick deep inside of you.

“I couldn't wait, I’m sorry,” You whine as you rock your hips, feeling every inch of him inside you, “Needed you so bad, Mike.”

His eyes are hooded again but this time, his jaw is clenched and his hands grip the soft flesh of your hips, attempting stops himself from fucking the hell out of you. It’s not often you take him completely so he knows you need time to adjust, but fuck, the sight of you like this, tits bouncing slightly in his face, pussy clenching his cock for dear life is driving him insane.

You whine from the mixture of pain and pleasure engulfing your nerves. Your body begins to adjust to his enormous size and you bounce on Michael’s dick a bit more, allowing a few inches of him to slip in and out of your warm pussy.

“That’s it, pretty one. You’re doing so well,” He fondles your right boob keeping one hand on your thigh, “taking me so well.”

You bite your lips at the sound of his words. You speed up, letting more and more his cock slip in and out of you. Your moans get louder as his cock hits that sweet spot inside you. Michael loses it too, his head falls back with a loud grunt and his hands fall to his side. You’re both a moaning, sweaty messy on the couch, breathing hard as you bounce on him like your lives depend on it. Somehow you’ve managed to ignore the feeling of your thighs burning for this long, unfortunately, Michael hasn’t. He feels your hips falter, looking up at you before hauling your movements.

“Lay on your stomach, Y/N,” He lifts you up and waits for you to get into position.

Michael props a fluffy cushion under your stomach to arch your hips in the slightest before gently spanking your butt. Your head drops to the edge of the couch with a satisfied sigh. He spanks you one move time before slipping himself into you. He barely gives you time to adjust to the new position his cock hits your g-spot before he’s thrusting hard and fast in and out of you.

Your mouth falls open and a mixture of a scream and a moan leaves your mouth at the intense feeling behind you. Thank the heavens you’re the only tenants on the top floor. Michael grinds with every thrust he makes, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror facing you both. As if you weren’t a moaning mess while riding him. you eyes well up with tears of pure pleasure ass Michael fucks you with so much passion.

“Look at yourself, pretty one.” He lifts your head so you're face to face with your messy reflection in the mirror. You mascara’s running and your face is damp from a mixture of tears and sweat as he pumps himself in and out of you.

“Mi-Michael!” you cry out, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

“I know, baby, I can feel it.” You look up at his reflection. His eyes are fixed on you. He leans down to press a passionate kiss to the sweet spot on your neck as he whispers dirty words of encouragement to you.

The knot in your stomach tightens, your vision blurs as you climb closer and closer to the edge, and then it happens. Your body shakes as your legs clench from the gravity of your organism. Your eyes close tight as you scream Michael’s name like its a prayer

“That’s it, pretty one, let go for me. Make a mess on my cock,” He whispers into your ear as his thrusts falter.

As he reaches his high, you feel another organism creeping up on you. You warn Michael, begging him not to stop fucking you. He grunts, trying his best to grant you your wish. He holds out long enough for you to cum again. Your second orgasm is stronger than the first one. Your nails dig into the leather and you scream Michael’s name louder than you ever have. He’s soon to follow, halting his movements to spill his thick seed inside you with whimpers of your name falling from his gentle lips before he presses his sweaty body onto yours, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

God, you loved hearing him moan like that. You thought he only did it in his songs but here you are, hearing those exact sounds in between moans of your name. What a lucky girl you are.

“Happy birthday, Michael,” You breath out still under him.

“Thank you, pretty one.”