it's how your relationship with michael seems to only focus on him.

you made so many sacrifices for your relationship; your career is not the same—you spend the day at home.

you always have to check if he's okay; you ask yourself why he's avoiding you—or why he doesn't return your calls, or if he's being taken care of well during the tours.

you can't take it anymore. the feeling of being suppressed in your own life.

it's exhausting.

michael finds you in the bathroom; the lavender soap smells through the air. you didn't notice him. not yet.

you have teary eyes—and you look in so much pain. he just wants to take everything away; but michael knows better—he knows he's the reason for your tears.

you look at him—god, it's like a knife passing through his heart. he kneels in front of the bathtub. your fragrance floods him, and he's ready to drown himself in your presence.

he's about to touch your flawless face, but you stop him before he does—your hands go to his wrist.

"don't touch me."

without even realizing it, the words come out. and you feel so stupid because you never talked to him this way.

"mike, i didn't mean t—"

"it's my fault, baby." he's quicker than you; he stares at you with so much regret. "i'm so, so sorry. things will be different this time. i swear."

you don't say anything. he takes this as a chance to keep talking:

"baby, please—i will change. believe me, please."

you don't believe him.

however, you let him get closer to you. he presses a soft kiss to your neckline, going down to your upper chest. he whispers how sorry he is, and you let out a quiet gasp because every time he touches you, you burn, inside and out.

he suddenly enters the bathtub with his clothes on, and the hot water splashes across the floor.

"michael, what are you doing?"

"i'm drowning in you." he gives you a smirk, and you can't avoid smiling at him.

"michael, you're gonna catch a cold."

"don't worry, baby." he quiets you with a wet kiss while he presses his thumb against your nipples, and you're so sensitive to him.

you make him so hard, but right now, he just wants to give you pleasure.

he pulls you onto his lap, and his big hands go down to your clit. you feel overstimulated by it as he kisses your throat and gives short bites to your neck.

it's so fucking good, his warm hand making circular movements around your pearl. it's too much; it's too good.

"is that how you like it, baby?"

"yes, y-yes, please, mike."

"are you gonna cum, baby? yeah?"

he presses your button even harder when you start trembling in his lap. he tells you how much he loves you; he whispers in your ear how adorable you are when you're cumming in his hands.

"f-fuck, mike, i'm c-cumming, i'm cumming."

you get there, and it's too good to be true. you feel his breath against you and interlock your fingers with his.

you know that nothing is changing.

but you can still pretend that you believe. with that, you press a kiss to his cheek and ask him how the rehearsal is going—the pain in your chest is still there, but as long as he doesn't see it, it's fine.

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You had crawled into bed with Michael one night, skin glistening from the expensive floral scented lotion you’d just delicately rubbed into your skin, settling comfortably in the sheets next to him. He was quieter that night — he mumbled at dinner, barely conversing with you, playing with his food. Michael didn’t have a large appetite, so his lack of eating hadn’t phased you as much as it did now. You didn’t expect him to be too chatty that night either, you had already had a heated disagreement a few hours earlier that remained unresolved — something that was becoming more frequent in recent times due to his demanding career.

So, when you nestled against him, his hands rigid at his sides, was when you noticed something was undeniably wrong.

“Is everything okay, baby?” You asked, peering up from his chest to glance at his pokerface.

“I think we should split up.”

The words hit you full-force, panic and shock instantly flooding your emotion — sitting up so frantically it made Michael flinch.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Your voice was frantic and distressed, face forced into a scrunch of anxiety.

Michael stayed silent for a few moments, not daring to meet your eyes, just staring blankly at the wall next to him.

“Michael, don’t fucking joke with me. Fucking say something.”

“Stop cursing, please.” He forced out, voice hoarse and low, attempting to keep his dignity.

You scoffed in disbelief, “So, you blurt out that you wanna break-up, but all you care about is a curse? Are you fucking serious?” Anger was the emotion at the forefront of your brain now, utterly disgusted with his coldness towards you mixed with the cruelty of his words.

“Things are complicated right now.” He started, still facing away from you, “I’ve got the album and the tour, and we’re fighting too much already because of it. It’s not good for us especially if I’m away for long periods of time. You deserve someone who can be around for you. Someone better.” He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t want to let this progress and then end up hurting one another more.”

“‘Let this progress?’ Michael we’ve been together for three years, nearly four. You didn’t think to end things three and half years ago if you didn’t wanna get hurt? Are you serious?”

“I still love you, I just want to protect us both from pain.” He spoke quietly.

“Love? This isn’t love, Michael, this is cruel. This is worse pain. Someone who loved me wouldn’t treat me like this. Why are you doing this to me? To us?”

His heart clenched as your voice cracked, not brave enough to look you in your eyes, now brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry.”

The words felt faux as they left his lips — silencing encasing the room. You scoffed, standing up swiftly from the bed, rushing into the bathroom, slamming the door harshly behind you. You missed the way Michael flinched once more as the loud sound echoed throughout the quiet room, a single tear falling down his cold cheek — attempting to ignore your wails of despair from behind the door.

He saw you for the last time as you rushed out of the bathroom — bag full of your toiletries in hand as you raced towards the bedroom door, sobbing.

He called your name, but you cut him off, swearing brutally at him, along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself, Michael’. Your memory of that night wavered thin now — your brain compartmentalising the pain to the back of your mind, pushing it the furthest away from to prevent you from punishing yourself with the hurtful memory.

You were packed and moved out the same night — moving back in with your parents, who comforted you for weeks on end as you experienced the worst heartbreak you’d ever felt in your life. The one person you loved and trusted the most in your life had been the one to hurt you the most, too. It was a strange phenomenon — to still love and yearn for the person causing you agonising misery.

At month one, you spent most days in bed — wallowing in your despair, reading old love-letters, staring at photos taken on your first tropical vacation, your anniversary, his birthday. You were torturing yourself — a bittersweet pain that you struggled to rid yourself of. Ending most nights by sobbing into your hand as you read the newspapers — headlines of your split plastered everywhere. Utterly devastated at how disgusting tabloids portrayed you as a deadweight on Michael’s blossoming career, that you were only dragging him down, that he made a good decision to free himself of you.

By month two, you got back to work. You had managed to find your new routine — working hard on your own music, pouring your damaged heart into each song, passion flowing from your lips with each lyric. You didn’t cry as much — only now and again when Michael would pop up on the television, his new album ‘Bad’ going world platinum again, just as his others did, his success booming. What irked you most was he looked perfectly fine — smiling happily for the cameras, performing on stage on tour with pure, irrevocable talent, adoration and excitement oozing off of him, like he didn’t destroy someone’s life two months ago.

By month three, you acted unaffected. You’d moved out into your own place — gaining some unwanted independence. You began going about your life like you’d never met him — going on a few dates, dancing at clubs with your friends with guys you were a stranger to, late night calls with men you knew deep down would never compare, but indulging in the fun of it nonetheless— heart fuelled by anger and frustration, desperate to get back at him. When you finally moved on sexually, you were irritatingly disappointed — no man on the planet could please you like Michael had. That’s what filled you with pure rage. Faking orgasms and pretending as though their cock’s even made half the stretch that Michael’s did had you furious — often pushing them away mid sex, ordering them to get out of your apartment.

You were now almost at month six and the ice in your heart towards Michael hadn’t let up.

You pretended, to your family and friends, that you were over it — that it didn’t affect you anymore. That you had totally moved on with your life. Wrong. You were still livid deep down — not a single day going by where you didn’t curl your fists up in fury at the thought of him. Fury that you still had an annoyingly large place for him in your heart — that no matter how bitter you tried to convince yourself you were about him, it did nothing to dilute the sickly sweetness that overpowered your heart.

And that lovesick heart of yours was pounding violently in your chest right now.

Sat in the back of a limousine, dolled up to the Gods — hair, makeup and outfit perfected to a T, you looked divine. So divine you were determined to make a statement — one just as bad his.

Ironic.

The man in question who you were dying to shock, self-proclaimed as ‘bad’, connotations to his new album, was someone you believed to be sweet, tender and loving. An album title you always thought was truly ironic as he was quite the opposite.

Not as of recent.

Diana Ross had been a thorn in your side since the day you and Michael met. Her relentless flirtatious energy towards the man you craved was angering — even before you called it official was she persistent with her teasing.

“So, you’re the girl Michael keeps talkin’ so much about.” She drawled, the day you met her, your handshake harsher than usual as you gripped her bony hand in your own, “Not his girl, yet though, right?” She laughed, “Better snatch that handsome thing up before I do.”

You confessed your love to Michael that night.

You did truly have intense feelings for him — but that old cow had given you the push you needed. No way in hell was she going to take him away from you — not on your watch.

So, rightfully so, you were anxious at the thought of her finding out about your split — wondering what her next move would be. You’d spend everyday reading the newspapers in a panic, skimming through a thousand words a second in an attempt to find any news of them being spotted together.

And the day came — a week before The 1988 Soul Train Music Awards. The very award ceremony you were heading to, looking so beautiful.

Michael and Diana were front page — pressed tightly against one another at a famous club. His smile was bright, wide and genuine — something you’d missed seeing in person, now adorning his captivating face because of that witch. She had looped her arm through his, the picture capturing her pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. The title read ‘MICHAEL MOVING ON ALREADY? — OLD FLAME REIGNITED’

Oh, he had really done it this time.

He knew how much you hated her — loathed her, actually. The older woman often getting in the way of your relationship throughout the years you were together — despite having a husband herself, she was betrothed with your man.

So, even if technically he didn’t owe you a thing as you weren’t his anymore, you silently felt fury at him for letting her kiss him for the cameras.

Therefore, your only response was to fight fire with fire — childish? Maybe. But, clever? Absolutely.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

The sound of Prince’s voice next to you in the limo tugged a devilish smirk onto your face as you nodded.

If Michael wanted to play dirty — you would play real dirty.

The car had rolled to a stop — flashes of the paparazzi’s intrusive cameras burnt into your vision as the driver pulled the door open. You stepped out, smoothing your dress, a wide smile on your face, waving sweetly as you waited for your date to exit the vehicle.

If you thought the flash was bright before, you were mistaken. Spots blurred into your vision as Prince stood next to you, instantly taking your hand in his own, confidence oozing from him as always, before smiling down at you. You turned to him — pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, lipstick now smeared across his skin, earning a knowing laugh from his throat.

Cha-ching!

Those pictures, dripping with revenge, were a real moneymaker — something that would put that sloppy, old hag’s attempt to make you jealous to shame.

Everyone knew of the musical feud between Michael and Prince — the two men battling for the title of ‘the biggest star in the world’. You knew that Michael took the cake — but, you also knew that seeing his biggest rival with his ex-girl would shut down any attempt of riling you up.

“Nicely done.” Prince whispered, lips close to your ear as you were ushered inside the building. He was aware of your vengeful plan — and more than willing to help aggravate his arch nemesis.

“You too.” You sent a wink his way, engaging in a childish, unison giggle, knowing exactly what you were doing was going to end messy, “I’ll see you later.”

You parted ways with your exes nemesis, not before letting him press a calculated kiss to your knuckles, peripheral vision burning as more cameras captured your (fake) romantic moment, before being ushered to your assigned seat.

You were fairly near the stage, around three rows in front, next to your favourite female pop-star and close friend, Whitney Houston. A real, genuine smile burst across your face when she seated herself next to you.

“Girl.” She breathed out a laugh, placing her clutch bag gently in her lap.

“What?” You laughed, smiling across at her in confusion.

“Honey, I think you know what.” She shook her head with a grin, “You made quite the entrance back there.”

Perfect.

The corners of your lips tugged up into a deeper smile, “Then my plan is working.”

Whitney chuckled, “I just know that poor man is beyond ticked off right now.”

“‘Poor man’?” You scoffed, “He is far from poor. You saw the papers, right?”

“Everybody did, sweetie.”

“Number one, not helpful,” You pointed a finger at her, ignoring the way she cackled, “And two, he had it comin’” You paused, “Everyone, including him, knows how much I hate her.”

“Hate who?”

You froze — the infamously familiar voice that once had you smiling like a damn idiot before, now had your face falling as your head lurched behind you.

And there he was.

Michael.

In all his annoying glory — sporting a dashing red button-up, a sleek tie around his neck, paired with a black suit jacket, that hugged the curve of the lean muscles in his arms in a way that your breath hitching in your throat.

It aggravated you that he looked so good.

But, you knew that he knew that you looked better.

Your irritation only blossomed as you glanced at the seat to your right — eyes rolling in annoyance as his name, scribbled onto a flimsy piece of paper on the chair right next to you, hit your vision.

Fuck award show assigned seats.

“Well, shit, girl.” Whitney mumbled, laughing under her breath as she turned away from the tension that was rising as Michael took his seat.

“Hello.” He spoke, voice soft and gentle, just like you remembered.

“That’s all you have to say to me?” Your voice came out harsher than expected, an angered frown visible on your face as a grin bloomed on his.

His mouth went to open, but you cut him off, hand shooing him away, “Actually, don’t even speak to me, please.”

“You look beautiful.”

“What did I just say Michael?”

You hated the way he smirked at your snappy tone, lip coming between his teeth as he obeyed your request, getting comfortable in his chair. You also hated the way your heart did an extremely noticeable flip in your chest at the compliment.

This night was going to be the death of you.

And it only got worse as Michael retreated to the stage, not once, but twice — each time looking more gracious and handsome as the next. He won Best Single and Album of the Year for Bad — the trophies enclosed around his beautiful, slender hands, ones that once gave you blissful satisfaction.

You despised your weak mind for the way you let it run away with itself — eyes trailing over his tall, elegant frame each time he’d take the stage. That infamous smile that had you weak at the knees did nothing to cool the desire that was overpowering your anger, the yearn for him only increasing.

Michael thumped into his seat next to you with a sigh, now two awards richer, running a hand through his long curls that cascaded down his shoulders.

You could sense he was looking at you — his smiling face visible in your side eye-line, but you refused to turn, your eyes fixated on the stage as the next category was revealed.

“Saw your little stunt earlier.” He whispered, “Real classy.”

You scoffed quietly, “That’s rich.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You knew that tone — that cocky, teasing tone that had you gritting your teeth.

You finally turned to face him, “Oh, right. I’m sure letting that old crow kiss you is a regular thing now, huh?”

“Saw that, did you?” He was testing you, it was evident in the way the knowing smirk on his face never faltered.

You were halfheartedly listening as your name was read for the nomination, not even bothering to care as you held your gaze with the man seated next to you — a brutal lock of eyes that said a thousand words. You were furious, failing to hide it miserably, and he, well, he was enjoying it.

“I did.” You started, “Nice to see a downgrade was my replacement.”

Michael’s smile flickered at your harsh dig at his life-long friend, “I think I could say the same about your date.”

“At least I have one.”

That sure wiped the smirk off his face.

“And definitely not a downgrade in the bedroom.”

You basked in his shock — the smirk he once sported now adorning your face, nearly missing the way your name was called from the stage, the room erupting in applause.

“Excuse me?” Michael’s voice was bitter, cold, mortified at your admission. A false one at that, but he didn’t need to know. Yet.

“Sorry, can’t hear you.” You shrugged him off, rising to your feet with a proud smile — at your award mostly, but also at your triumphant win in the petty disagreement, as loud cheers exploded in your ears.

You took the stage — a new found confidence oozing off of you, a gorgeous smile on your face as you took the award from the announcer’s hands, pulling them into a small hug. You thanked your producer, musical team, family and friends — humbleness evident in every word you spoke.

You looked perfect — utterly radiant under the bright lighting blaring down onto the stage, award glistening in your hands as your pearly white smile twinkled in the spotlight.

Michael, albeit still in an angered daze over your admission, couldn’t help himself but rake his eyes over your frame — breasts pushed perfectly up your corseted dress, the curve of the plush mounds visible to everyone’s eyes from the audience, eyes never leaving those perfect tits he’d once nestle his face into as he flung your legs over his shoulders and filled you to the hilt with his cock.

The thought had him readjusting his slacks — hard-on now painful against the restrictive clothing at the delicious reminiscing of your love-making.

It was your next words that had the sexual memories leaving his head.

“And I wanna thank my wonderful date for tonight— matter of fact, come up here! Prince, where y’at, honey?”

The room erupted into cheers once more — everyone but Michael, who attempted to drown out Whitney’s disbelieving laughter from two seats down from him, watching as you shielded your eyes from the light, searching for the man in the crowd.

Michael stared lethal daggers into Prince’s back as he sauntered up the stairs to the stage — his chest heaving in undeniable envy as he watched Prince pull you into a tight hug. Those gorgeous breasts now pressed up against Prince’s chest.

He was livid. Hands tightening around the material of his trousers, knuckles white as his grip turned taut.

“Not only is he a Pop King,” The room exchanged hushed gasps at the title, one that everyone knew belonged to your furious ex, “But, he’s also a fantastic plus one.” Laughs fizzled out the shock at your insinuation that Prince was only there with you, not for his own musical nominations.

Michael, however, had never felt fury quite like it.

That title was his.

One he worked so hard for — something him and that idiot, in his mind, up on stage with you had fought over for so many years. And you knew that.

He knew you were aggravating him deliberately.

Prince smirked, eyes finding Michael’s in the crowd, expression darkening, “Sorry, Michael.”

And with a smooth arm wrapped around your back, and a swift dip in the air — he kissed you.

Well, not actually.

His lips attached to the corner of your mouth, barely touching, but to the audience, and more importantly, the cameras, it looked as though your ex-boyfriend’s fiercest enemy was kissing the life out of you on stage.

And, boy, did everyone in the room eat it up.

Standing ovations and screams of joy sounded in the room as they clapped — basking in the pure drama of it all.

Prince pulled away from you with a smile, winking at you as you laughed, shaking your head. He took his hand in yours, guiding you backstage, the noise of the crowd dying down as you were ushered away.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled, chest heaving from the adrenaline.

“Well, maybe it’ll give him the push he needs to try get y’back.” Prince admitted, “Either that or to write ‘nother okay album.”

You shoved his arm playfully, “Oh, stop. Y’know it was a good album.”

“Sure, sweetheart, sure.” He teased, sending another smug wink your way, earning another giggle from your lips.

You’d barely made it ten steps backstage before an all familiar frame blocked your way.

You swallowed thickly as Michael’s cold, blank expression met your eyes, his hands curled at his side as he held your gaze — watching as the smile fell from your face.

He didn’t fail to notice how quickly you dropped Prince’s hand, either.

“Come with me. Now.” His voice was darker than his usual soft, gentle tone — not holding a deeper undertone of something that had a chill running down your spine.

“Oh, he mad now.” Prince spoke up, a soft, breathy laugh leaving his lips, “Don’t be jealous, brother, y’got ‘Ross don’t’cha?”

Michael’s jaw clenched, his gaze turning to Prince, eyes darkening into something icier, “I’d walk away if you know what’s good for you.”

Prince laughed once again, eyes flickering back towards you, “Good luck, girl.” He turned back to Michael, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Be sure to bring her back t’me when you’re done, yeah?”

Michael lunged, flinging his hand off his shoulder in a brutal shove, turning towards him with clear intent. You rushed in between a seething Michael and a laughing Prince, hands steadying the angered man on his chest.

“Enough. Both of you.” You hissed, “Just go.” You signalled to the amused man behind you.

Prince didn’t fight it — just turned to walk away with his hands in the air in surrender, chuckling as he went.

“Michael, what the hell was that for?” You snapped.

Michael didn’t speak — only grabbed your wrist in a firm, not aggressive, more so possessive, grasp, tugging you away, his longer legs moving swiftly with each stride, your own practically in a run as you fought to keep up.

He found a nearby bathroom, pushing the door open with all his strength, ignoring the way you winced at the sound of the handle harshly slammed into the wall. The door was shut and locked quicker than it had opened — before you were pushed against it.

“Me?” He started, answering your prior question, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, pupils blown in distress, “I think I should be asking you that question, sweetheart.”

The pet-name spat from his mouth with a curl of his lips — face contorted into a scowl.

You gained your pride, taking two hands to his shoulders and shoving him, your strength against his own doing as little as moving him a few steps backwards.

“Don’t get it twisted, Michael.” You retorted, “You started this with that bitch.”

Michael scoffed, “Go’head, baby, try and convince yourself I’m in the wrong here.” His tongue poked out from his inner cheek, “You’re insatiable.”

“Don’t you dare call me that.” Your voice seeping with distaste at the familiar pet-name, “You lost that privilege the second you gave up on us like we were nothin’.” You shook your head, “Would’ve let you have it back if you didn’t let that old slut rub up on you like you’re a fuckin’ groupie.” You laughed darkly, looking him up and down, “Not now. Lost every fuckin’ chance with me.”

Michael looked taken aback by your disrespectful words — teeth grinding together as he never took his eyes away from your own.

“I never gave up on us willingly.” He revealed, ignoring the way you scoffed with a laugh, as he took a step closer to you, “And as for her,” He paused, attempting to find the right words.

“See? You can’t even convince yourself there’s nothin’ going on there.” You cut him off, hands flailing in the air as you spoke theatrically.

“Let me finish, woman.” He shot back, “As I was sayin’ — she means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. She’s an old friend. Someone who mentored me as a kid. We have history — but nothin’ more than platonic. Barely even platonic, just professional.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Michael. No ‘professional mentor’ kisses their ‘colleague’ like that.” You air-quoted the words that felt faux with your manicured fingers, shaking your head, “Do you take me for some kind of idiot?”

“Not in that sense, no.” He started, “For actin’ like that with him? Maybe.”

You laughed in disbelief, “You just love it, don’t you? Pretending to yourself that I’m the bad guy, that I went up there and acted like that just to hurt you with no real reason?” You looked him up and down with disgust, “You’re so blind.”

“How many times, girl? There’s nothin’ going on with me and Di.”

He regretted the use of the nickname the second it left his mouth.

“Di? That sounds real professional to me, asshole.” You turned on your heel, clicking the lock back open and twisting the handle, pulling the door open in an attempt to storm out.

Before you could even move, the door was slammed shut once again. The loudness blooming a new found silence in the room, one that failed to occur from the second you walked in there.

Michael’s hand, despite his burning anger, remained gentle as moved your body back to face him, pressing you back into the door.

“Don’t even think about it.” He whispered, “You are not walkin’ away from me.”

“That’s ironic.” You bit back, “If you hadn’t have done that in the first place, we wouldn’t be havin’ this argument.”

“Y’think I wanted to do that? Think I wanted to sit there and watch you panic? Listen to you cry? Hear you cuss me out because of pain and anger I caused? No. That’s where y’dead wrong, girl.” He let out a shaken breath, “I have always, from the moment I met you, till this very day, loved you. Loved you so much I had to give you the life you deserved. I had to let you go. Had to get you away from the pain I was bringin’. No one wants to be with someone who’s never there, and when they are, they’re always fightin’.” Then, he went silent, his eyes now softened as they met your glassy ones, tears threatening to fall as you let him talk.

You both stayed in deathly loud silence, louder than any door slamming or screaming argument — silence that spoke more words than any you’d ever said.

You swallowed thickly, your resolve cracking as his admission settled in your brain, “That wasn’t your decision to make, Michael.” Your voice was quieter now, still with the same stubborn sharpness, but less accusatory, now filled with evident upset.

Michael breathed, his head hanging low, his forehead a mere few inches from your own, “I regret that night every fucking day.” He whispered, a vulnerable string of words that hung heavy in your heart, “Letting you walk out that door was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Why her?” Your voice cracked as you spoke, a stray tear falling down your cheek as you met his gaze.

“It wasn’t a personal attack. She was just at the same club and approached me.” He revealed, “The picture was taken before I even had a chance to say no.”

You shook your head, breaking the eye-contact as you looked at your feet, hiding your rapidly falling tears. Michael’s trembling hand reached for your face, a tentative hand cupping your warm cheek, lifting your face to meet his eyes once more.

“Mama..”

“Stop.” You turned your head, pushing his hand away with your own, “I can’t even look at you.”

“Don’t act so innocent.” Michael’s tone, that had once softened, grew the all too familiar iciness that had been evident the whole evening, “I’m trying to fix things here despite your little ordeal earlier. D’y’know what it’s like to see you kissing him up there? That used to be me if you even remember.”

You let out a low laugh, “He didn’t even kiss me, fool, ‘was all an act. Unlike you and Di.” You barked, “Y’know you actually blow my mind, you’re so—Mmmph!”

Michael connected your lips in a frantic kiss, cutting off your incessant bickering, lips moving against yours quickly.

You shoved him back, gasping for air at the sudden loss of breath, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Puttin’ that bratty fuckin’ mouth to better use.”

He kissed you again — mouth sliding against your own in a feverish lip-locking, a hand now gripping the nape of your neck, the other on the curve of your waist.

And this time — you let him.

You melted into him, hands flying to his face, eyes fluttering shut as you caved, droplets of tears falling onto the tops of your cheeks — falling deeper into his mercy. His tongue slid across the surface of your bottom lip, still awaiting permission despite his frustration. You allowed it, letting his tongue slide into your warm mouth, humming in delight at the taste of his minty breath on the hot muscle, revelling in the way he pushed his body into yours. His hands wondered — now travelling down your body to grab a handful of your ass through your dress, continuing his oral assault on your swollen lips.

“Jump.”

You obeyed, leaving his lips to leap into his arms — his hands cradling your behind as he connected your lips once more, settling you on the sink, slotting himself between your ajar legs.

Michael detached his mouth from own, moving his lips down the curve of your jaw, and down your exposed neck — letting his hips rock into yours involuntarily, while he sucked possessive marks into your skin, at the sound of your breathy moans, head tilted back to allow him better access.

“Michael, please.” You whined, voice a needy plea, hands sliding up into his hair, threading through his tight curls.

“Please, what, angel?” He mumbled against your neck, breath hot against your skin, fresh lovebites forming as he spoke.

“Please—mmhm—Need you, fuck.”

Michael pulled away, hands flying to your dress, pulling down the zipper harshly — before pulling you to your heeled feet, pushing it off your body swiftly, leaving you in just a skimpy bare of lace panties.

Ones you knew were his favourite.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He breathed, eyes raking over your bare frame, glossy doe-eyes peering up at him as he towered above you, “Wore my favourite just for me?”

You nodded, “Just f’you, Mike.”

Michael turned you, with precise smoothness, pressing your stomach against the cold of the sink, your bare back now pressed against his chest.

He slid a tentative hand up your side, toying with the tiny string the thong that clad your bottom half, as he locked eyes with your own in the mirror before you, “How am I supposed to know you didn’t wear them for him, mama?”

You pushed back against him, rolling your hips into the statement of his arousal, “Shut up about him and fuck me.”

A harsh hand connected with your left ass cheek — a half-gasp half-moan ripping from your throat at the sudden contact, “Thought I told you to keep that bratty mouth shut?”

You, testing your luck, ground against him once more, smirking at the way his hand tightened against your hand-printed behind, “Give me what I want then.”

Michael shook his head behind you — one hand working on his belt, pushing his slacks down along with his boxers, his palm wrapping around his achingly hard cock, pumping himself slowly, while the other pulled down your panties, now morphed into the shape of your plush folds from your leaking arousal, to the side, “Be careful what you wish for, doll.”

With one swift, sudden thrust, Michael pushed inside you — bottoming out instantly. A scream erupted from your throat at the instant fullness, your tight cunt struggling to adjust to the sheer size of him as his leaking tip kissed your cervix. Your pussy betrayed you as it clenched around him, drooling around him, coating his cock in your slick.

His hand flew to your mouth, his large palm enclosing around your swollen lips, muffling the whimpers that left you as you struggled around him — eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of him throbbing inside you.

“Keep those eyes open, mama,” He ordered, sliding out of you slowly until the only thing that remained inside your quivering hole was his plump mauve cockend, “Want you to see how pathetically you fall apart on my cock. My cock. No-one else’s.”

He pushed in again with the familiar harshness from before as your eyes shot open — now starting a brutal, animalistic pace that had you clawing at the tense of his hand that enveloped your mouth, hiding the high-pitched squeals and whines of pure, irrevocable lust that took over your mind, body and soul.

Michael groaned into your ear, eyes locked on your own as he fucked into you with such a pace and lack of gentleness that you’d never seen before. During your companionship, Michael took his time with you — worked you open with his mouth and fingers, took his time to get you ready for the thickness and length of him. But, not this time — all the pent up rage brought upon him from the start of the night now being fucked into you with every harsh rock of his hips.

Keeping you flush against his chest, his free hand slid down to where you connected — rubbing tight figure eights against your clit that throbbed for attention. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes rolling to the back of your head, ignoring any order he gave you to hold his gaze.

“Mmphmh—M-Mich—Michael, please!”

Words failed you as you cried against his hand, drunk on the way his cock dragged in and out of your gummy walls that sucked him in with each thrust — the sound of your feverish moans and your squelching cunt mixing with his breathy groans filling the air of the bathroom that now stunk of Michael’s intoxicating cologne and passionate sex.

“Take it, baby, take this fuckin’ dick.” He grunted into your ear, his words unlike his usual loving coaxes, “Make up for what’cha did.”

Michael hissed as you bit down on the skin of his palm, his hand pulling away from the source of pain as he meet your gaze in the mirror — your own expression now deepening into a scowl, “Fuck you.”

The words spat from your mouth, dripping with venom, at his words of blame, watching as his face scrunched up in frustration.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, ma.”

His pace never let up — if anything, since your oral stunt, it quickened. He forced you down, now completely bent over the sink as he created a new angle — his cock now driving deeper into your sopping cunt, abusing the sweet spot inside you relentlessly.

Now released from his grasp, your loud, incessant cries sounded throughout the small room — so voluminous that any passerby would hear every scream of his name.

His hand collided with your ass cheek again — cursing under his breath as the familiar feeling of a much needed orgasm crept up his abdomen. The lustful spark in your stomach blossoming much the same as he slid a hand into your hair, tugging your head upwards to look directly into the mirror once more. You were a state, completely, and literally, fucked — eyes streaming with tears that coated your hot cheeks, lips swollen and stricken with spit from his frantic kisses, and a small yet equally evident imprint of his fingers around your mouth where he held you harshly.

“‘M gonna cum so fuckin’ deep in this pussy that you can’t fuckin’ walk without flooding your little panties with my seed.” He grunted, never letting his thrusts faltering as you squirmed beneath him, “Who’s needy little cunt is this?”

Words failed you as you continued to cry — only desperate, eager whimpers falling from your lips.

Another spank connected with your ass cheek, coaxing a loud whine out of you, “Answer me when I ask you a fuckin’ question, woman.”

“Yours!—fuck, Michael, it’s all yours.” You panted, tears falling from your eyes faster than you could stop them.

“Say this pussy’s mine.” Michael spat, tugging hard on your locks of hair.

“My pussy’s all yours, baby, fuck—mmph!—Gonna cum!”

Michael hummed, clearly pleased with your response, his hips stuttering as he neared his own release, “Cum with me, beautiful, cum on my cock like a good girl.”

You cried out, loud and despairingly, as you finally broke — red-hot ecstasy taking over your body as you came, the flood gates of your pleasure breaking open to consume you. Michael followed, the tight clenching of your quivering pussy sending him over the edge, spurting his hot seed into your fertile cunt as he groaned lowly — the sensation of his cum filling your fluttering sex only furthering your own orgasm.

You slumped against the countertop — chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. Michael stilled behind you, swallowing thickly as he softened inside you. He leant down, pushing his chest against your back, coated with a sheen of sweat, before pressing a soft, loving kiss to your shoulder.

His kisses trailed up to your neck, beneath your earlobe, your cheek, before using a trembling hand to tilt your head to the side, and pressing his lips against your own. You sobbed into the kiss, more tears, now from overwhelming emotion, falling from your eyes. Michael’s hand cupped your cheek — deepening the kiss, that once held so much irritation, resentment and anger, now filled with undeniable attachment, deep love and compassion.

“I love you.” Michael breathed, disconnecting your lips, resting his forehead against yours — singular curl that stuck to his slick forehead tickling your own, “Please be mine again.” He whispered.

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his nose, head reeling from the overstimulating rush of emotions.

“But don’t pull that shit again.” He added with a playful smile.

“Yeah,” You sniffled with a breathy laugh, “You too.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made you insatiable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough, Michael.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grab one of his nipples and pinch it harshly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This fuels Michael further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After at least ten minutes of this, Michael speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sensed Michael's presence soon before you heard him.

The soft click of the door, as if he thinks he'll wake you up from deep slumber, then a sigh, equally innocent and sweet, even though deeply exhausted. Michael taking off his shoes and shrugging his jacket off, the soft clicks of his chunky belt echoing through the otherwise quiet house.

The sound of his keys hitting the wooden surface of the cabinet down the hall, then the heavy footsteps, his feet barely lifting off the floor as he took the stairs with one thing on his mind:

You.

He was looking forward to the moment he would see you again the whole day. It was a sweet motivation that pushed through the demanding rehearsals, keeping him in your head as the dancers made yet another mistake in the choreo they've been practicing for two months now. Maybe he was too harsh on himself and the people working for him, or maybe he was just stressed. Stressed by the lack of your company, your touch, grounding and comforting in a way that had his mind calm and relaxed. Stressed by the fact that tour was starting soon, and nothing was even close to perfection yet.

Nothing but the calmness of the house and your sweet presence that lights his heart up.

The bedroom door clicked softly, and Michael's ears perked up as he saw you, comfortable and spread out on your shared bed, eyes meeting his before he could say a thing. You smiled, soft and warm, your nose crinkling in the most perfect way as you did so, eyes wide and attentive as you took in his exhausted posture.

The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the moon peeking through the curtains and the TV playing some shitty, old school show you didn't care about one bit. The moonlight hit your face in the most perfect way, highlighting the color of your eyes and hair, spread around your head like a halo.

Michael's knees buckled as he took you in, grinning despite exhaustion, his arms spreading out and claiming the space without even trying.

"Hi, superstar," You grinned, getting up from the bed to greet him with a hug that meant more than any fame or fortune in the world. Your small arms wrapped around his back, face squishing into his chest to breathe him in, letting his scent cloud your mind.

"I hate you calling me that," He chuckled softly, cradling your head in his hand, bringing you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Michael hid his nose in your hair, taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo and something different — something so ultimately you, it brought him comfort immediately. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Mikey." You breathe out, gently petting his back. "How're the rehearsals going?"

Michael shrugged, kissing the top of your head, suddenly aware of the tension in his shoulders and back. God, he could use a massage right now.

"Some dancers have trouble remembering the steps. You know, it's... normal. It should be. But it just keeps on annoying me, y'know? I need everything to be perfect by the time tour starts, and instead everything is falling apart right in front of me." He said, slow and shameful, not quite used to being this honest and open, not in that way.

You slowly pulled away from his chest, lips pouted in that specific way that insinuated you were thinking deep about what he had said. You took his hand slowly from where it was rubbing the small of your back through the red t-shirt you were wearing (stolen from Michael's side of the closet). His eyes followed your joined hands, watching as you kissed his knuckles, soft and warm, instantly calming his bubbling nerves and sweating hands.

"Mike, you need to take thing easy." You tilted your head, head turned towards the bed as you slowly led him to climb onto the warm sheets, the mattress moaning under your joined weights.

"I don't ever take things easy."

"That's why I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath. Relax. I know you crave perfection, but baby, things take time. They're eventually gonna get it, it's gonna be fine." You said softly, not trying to disregard his feelings, just being as supportive as you can.

Michael's lips pursed as he leaned back against the headboard, thinking about what you said with careful consideration. He met your eyes with a boyish, gentle smile, patting his lap softly.

"Sit here? Pretty please."

Michael had this innocence in his gaze, and you knew immediately he felt vulnerable in his heart. You took him in: the disheveled hair on the top of his head, loose strands breaking free from his ponytail and falling onto his forehead and eyes. The way his hands reached out to you, like a little kid looking for comfort. The red shirt that sat perfectly on his torso, first few buttons unlocked, droplets of build-up sweat glistening on his chest and neck.

He looked so exhausted, but oh, so beautiful.

You climbed onto his lap, and Michael's arms wrapped around your waist before you had a chance to fully settle. His chest expanded as your legs bracketed his, your smaller body melting into his much bigger one naturally.

"Besides...," You continued, a hint of tease in your voice as you settled in the moment, gentle hands pushing the stray strands of hair away from his face. "No one could ever dance as good as you do."

Michael laughed, the tiniest of tension dripping from his shoulders as he squeezed your waist. He missed this. The warmth coming from your whole body, the comforting touch on his face that kept reminding him of home, those sweet lips of yours that had the ability to make him blush like a teenager.

"That's a bit overboard."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Michael, you're the most talented person in the whole world. And I mean it." You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed at the praise, melting underneath the weight of your body, his own going slack as your slow, steady hands played with his hair. You curled a piece around your finger, tugging on it ever so gently, causing Michael's hands to twitch on your waist. He not so secretly loved when you did this.

All of the praises he got from his peers and colleagues could never bring him this much joy. This, here, with you, felt real: no fake sympathy, respect that meant nothing behind the closed doors, bows and applauses that didn't matter at the end of the day. This, you, was authentic, real, a connection that was worth more than any fame or respect in the world. He knew that.

"I love you. You're working too hard," You whispered, quieter now, and Michael's long fingers tightened on your waist just a fraction. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

"You're so beautiful. Like an angel. Always taking my breath away," You continued, your fingers tracing the sharp edge of Michael's jaw, then moving up his nose, careful, a small smile playing on your lips as Michael's body twitched underneath you, unconsciously seeking more of the attention. The praises travelled through his whole body, a deeply settled insecurity regarding his appearance slowly melting away as he took in your awed expression.

"Keep— keep talking. Please." He swallowed, leaning into your touch, his face inches away from yours now, embarrassment flooding his body as he felt his cock twitch in his pants.

You felt it, too. Suddenly very aware of your core pressed tightly against his crotch, something you ignored in the moment of fondness but prominent now. You tutted as Michael's arms tightened around your back, breath shallow and eyes clouded with devotion and something deeper beyond the surface — desire.

"You like it when I talk about how pretty you are?" He nodded, desperate, his face rubbing against your palm lovingly. "You are, Mikey. Everything about you is perfect. Like a work of art, only for me to admire, to love, to cherish. I love your eyes. How you look at me like I'm the only one that matters, even in a room full of people. This pretty little nose...," You pecked the tip of it, earning a nervous giggle from Michael. His cheeks turned rosy as you kissed the soft skin there, giving him all of your undivided attention to prove your point. "Those lips. Drive me insane. This beautiful smile, yeah, this one—"

You starting laughing as Michael's lips pressed tightly against yours, heightening your arousal that slowly started to spread across your body as you praised him. His cock jumped in his pants at the sound of your voice, your smile against his lips, that beautiful melody that's your laugh echoing through the room.

Michael whimpered into the kiss, quiet and unfiltered, his hips flexing underneath you as he tugged on your — his — shirt covering your body, already craving the feel of your bare skin against his.

You used your tongue to part Michael's lips, and he obeyed immediately, moaning into your mouth as you licked your way into his, completely taking control over the kiss. You knew Michael needed this, needed the adrenaline that comes with being desired. His brows furrowed as he sinks further into the sheets, hips rising off the mattress to search for the warmth of your sweet cunt on his achingly hard cock.

"I need you, baby—" He sighed into your mouth, and you sucked on his tongue, humming lowly while your hips began to move on their own, the buildup of your desire leaving you grinding down onto his cock. You could feel the outline of him through his pants, big and aching and ready for whatever you'd give him, ready to burst from a simple touch. "O-oh, angel girl—"

"Feels good?" You moan, leaving a wet spot on Michael's pants where you connected over and over again, not pulling away from a second. You fought with the urge to close your eyes, instead tugging on Michael's hair to get him to look at you, at the effect he had on you. "Of course it does. My good boy, always so obedient. What do you think your fans would say if they saw you like this— oh— completely at my mercy? What would they say, Mikey?"

You grinded harder, your hips working in tandem with Michael's, your bodies singing in a beautiful harmony without even trying. Your own words turned you on beyond belief, and they seemed to have the same effect on Michael.

"'m your good boy," He whispered, low and pathetic, his hands shaking with restraint as they rested on your thighs, squeezing and fondling the skin there. "Wanna be good for ya, that's all I want to do, baby—"

"What do you want?" You asked, sharp and firm, your voice dropping lower as your hands travelled down Michael's torso, playing with the buttons of his shirt and undoing them, one by one, slower than Michael would like it. The fabric felt like a barrier, a burden on his skin that was aching to be pressed against yours, but he let you take things slow, instead focusing on playing with the hem of your own shirt.

"Ah, ah, ah," You tutted, hand rising up to rest against Michael's throat, not quite squeezing, just resting there, feeling his pulse against your small palm. He let out a pained sound, half-whisper, half-sob, his hands dropping to his sides and tangling into the sheets. "No touching. Yeah, good boy. You like it when I choke you a little?"

"Yes. Fuck, yes," He groaned, teeth grinding together as you squeezed his throat experimentally, seeing just how far he's willing to take it, and to your surprise, he whined again, surer this time, hips bucking up just a fraction before dropping to the mattress.

"Yeah, you do," You smiled, biting your bottom lip as your hips faltered just a fraction, hips shaking with effort as your high creeped up on you, sudden and unexpected.

And so you stopped.

Michael's loud groan echoed through the room, annoyed, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. The way he looked at you then sent a shiver down your spine.

Devoted. Completely and utterly under your spell.

Yet still he didn't move. Didn't say a word, didn't rush you, his eye whites showing as he looked at you pitifully, breathing shallow and unsteady.

"What do you want, Mikey? Use that pretty little mouth of yours," You whispered softly, hands moving down his torso to move his shirt out of the way, scratching his skin with your nails with enough pressure to make him hiss.

Your palm experimentally moved over the aching bulge in his pants, feather-like and soft, and it only made Michael's hips buck up into your touch.

"I— I need to feel you— I can't wait anymore," He babbled, words leaving his mouth in a hurry. You rewarded him with a small flick of your hand as it rubbed up and down his length with pressure that was not nearly enough. "Oh God— And I want you to keep talking to me. About how— p-pretty I am— and how proud you are of me— You always take such good care of me, baby, please—"

You smiled, sliding off Michael's lap only to tug on his belt, and he understood immediately what you wanted. His hands shook as they unbuckled the heavy thing, fumbling with the zipper of his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers, not bothering to ask for permission.

His cock sprang free from the confines of his clothing, bobbing in the air freely and then hitting Michael's stomach with a wet sound. He whined — soft, desperate. You could see the effort it took for him to not touch himself, not give into the feeling until you made a move, allowed it.

"So pretty, so, so fucking beautiful," You whispered, taking in the sight in front of you with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. You didn't lie; every inch of Michael was perfect, starting with his perfectly sculpted face, to his lean body, strong thighs, and the cock that sat between them. He was big, flushed, looking as if a simple touch from you could make him come. It looked painful, and you only cooed at the sight.

"Want me to touch you, angel face? Want to cum so bad, don't you, sweetie?"

"Yes, God, yes," He breathed out, and you wasted no time climbing back into his lap, straddling one of the very thighs that drove you insane. Your pussy rubbed against Michael's soft, brown skin as you sat down, leaning in to peck his lips.

"Please."

The way he said it, soft and sweet, his mouth instinctively chasing after yours, made you smile. You kissed him again, slower this time, your fingers tracing soft circles on the skin of his thigh, dangerously close to his aching, throbbing cock.

"So good for me. You can touch me, baby— Yeah, take what you need," You praised him softly, finally giving him the permission to touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips. Slowly, almost painfully so, your palm reached its destination. Michael's own hands travelled up your body, one hand resting on the small of your back, the other sliding up to hold your hair out of your face while you kissed him. His touch was firm but delicate, claiming your body without taking control, letting you take the initiative without a word of protest.

Your fingers wrapped around his girthy cock with undeniable precision, the one that came from knowing his body way too well. Michael whined into your mouth, his hips bucking up into your palm, a soft cry leaving his mouth right after. He was on edge, and you knew it.

"Such a good boy. You're doing so perfect for me, look at how well you're taking me," You whispered against his lips, your hand beginning to stroke him slowly, your wrist flicking in a way that you knew drove Michael crazy. Your thumb rubbed against his sensitive slit with each movement, and Michael sighed, eyes rolling back into his head.

Your lips disconnected as soon as you began your little demonstrations on his dick, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you long after he pulled away. His head fell back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust and ultimate devotion.

"So good, ma," He whined, licking his lips as you sped up, just enough to make him dizzy and hot. Michael's body shook underneath you, his hold on you tightening just a fraction, letting you know just how much he enjoyed it.

"I know, baby, you're so hard for me, so fucking big. You're practically drooling, that's what a little attention does to you, huh? Falling apart so prettily for me. You're so pathetic it's cute," You said, voice fond and affectionate even when your words did nothing but humiliate him. Michael's body shook as your hand became a blur, your pace suddenly changed into something charged with animalistic desire — desire to watch him fall apart.

"I'm so close, don't you—"

"I know, angel boy, I'm not stopping, I'm right here—"

"I love you so much, oh God, I love you—"

"What do you need, Mikey?" You flicked your wrist in the right way, watching his face confront in pleasure, your hand beginning to hurt from the rough, demanding pace you've set. You couldn't stop, though, no: not when Michael's hips began to thrust up into your hand and his soft sobs echoed through the room.

"Can you— can you put your hand there— oh— jus' need a little more," He silently begged with his eyes, interlocking your fingers with his and bringing them to his neck. You immediately knew what was going on.

He truly needed for you to choke him in order to reach his peak.

And so you obeyed. You applied a little pressure to his pulse point, squeezing the sides of his throat in the most delicious way, feeling his Adam's apple bob as you did.

You squeezed harder, checking Michael's face for any type of discomfort, but all you could see was utter, devoted pleasure. His eyes rolled back into his head, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his chest glistened in the moonlight, heaving with every, choked up breath he took. The feeling of your hand on his dick was like no other: your grip was as tight as a glove, not as tight as your pussy, but enough to make him lose his mind.

"You like it when I do this, don't you?" You punctuated your words with a tight squeeze to the base of his cock and his throat, pulling his foreskin down to have him as sensitive as possible. Michael whined — a pained, desperate sob from somewhere deep in his chest that made your pussy throb against his leg. "You carry the whole world on your shoulders. You work so hard. Let me take care of you the way you deserve, baby."

"I'm right there," He moaned through another sob that shook his whole body, his hand clawing at the one squeezing his throat. He wasn't trying to push you away, just anchoring himself in the moment, needing to feel the warmth of your skin against his palm. "I'm right there, angel—"

"Yeah, take it. Take it like a good boy, that's right—"

Your hand movements became a blur, palm hitting his lower abdomen with every stroke, every squeeze to his length, bursting and twitching in your palm. He wouldn't need much to unravel, and you knew it.

"C-can you kiss me, baby? Please, I need to—"

You wouldn't let him finish, immediately crashing your lips onto his with force that pushed the air out of his lungs. Michael immediately granted you access to the inside of his mouth, moaning and whimpering, loud and unfiltered, completely consumed by the pleasure surging through his body. The kiss was messy, your saliva mixing and stretching between your willing mouths when you pulled away for a breather. It dropped between you, right onto the tip of his cock, and Michael hissed, his whole body shaking as he neared that familiar peak.

"Come for me, angel boy," You whispered, knowing just how much he loved the nickname, your hand moving from his throat to grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back to watch every moment of his pleasure.

"I'm coming, ma, I can't hold it, I'm—"

"Yeah, good boy, such a good fucking boy, give it to me—"

Michael's back arched off the mattress, hips bucking wildly as his own body betrayed him, a gasp that sounded pained leaving his swollen lips. The first spurt of his white, sticky seed made you chuckle, watching him make a mess of himself. Your hand movements never slowed — not for a second, guiding him through the moment, your lips crashing onto his in a mess of saliva and teeth clashing, but neither of you cared. Michael pulled you closer by the hips, his grip almost painfully tight, his cum staining his expensive shirt, your hand and his chest. It was messy, and it was perfect, and it was never ending — a spurt after spurt, each one weaker than the last, but nonetheless intense.

"So good, let it out, just like that, baby," You cooed softly, continuing to stroke him through every aftershock, and Michael cried out, overstimulated to the limit, his whole body trembling underneath you.

"I can't— take no more," He whispered, soft, broken, some fresh tears staining his tears, and he looked so beautiful you wanted nothing more than to devour him whole.

"It's okay, angel face, it's okay."

"I love you. I love you so much, baby, you're doing so good," You stopped your movements altogether, even though his cock still stood tall, some droplets of cum leaking from his tip, and you collected them with the pad of your finger, bringing them to your lips with a moan. Michael sobbed softly, following the movements of your mouth with his teary eyes as you sucked on your finger, licking the remains of his cum theatrically, with intention to drive him insane again.

"Tastes so good, too. Want to try?" You moaned, and Michael's hands tightened on your thighs just a fraction, offering you a shy nod of his head.

You took two of your fingers, then, dragging them through the mess he made on his chest, collecting some of the pearly cum and immediately bringing them to his lips. You padded on Michael's bottom lip, and he obeyed immediately, granting you access. His tongue lolled out, eyes wide and cheeks rosy as your fingers snuck into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue only to watch him squirm and moan.

"Good boy. Don't you taste fucking good?" You tilted your head as Michael's lips wrapped around your digits, his brows furrowing as the tasted himself on you.

Michael both hated and loved how much this aroused him.

You caressed his cheek slowly, lovingly, watching as he came down, finding comfort in the weight of your fingers on his tongue. He eventually came down, his body melting into the mattress as he settled. You slowly withdrawed your digits, bringing Michael closer and letting him rest his head on your chest. Your unsteady heartbeat was the only thing he could focus on.

"I love you," He mumbled lowly, his face rubbing against your t-shirt in a way that immediately made you melt. "I love you, I love you, I love you—"

You laughed, out of breath, kissing the crown of his head lovingly. "And I love you. Feeling better?"

You caressed his hair, letting him wrap his arms around you and bring you impossibly closer.

"Never better."

a/n: i apologise. or not. planning to make him even whinier and more pathetic in the upcoming fics. not sorry for that either.

he looked so good like this.

grey sweats hung low on his hips, the fabric bunched slightly where your legs tangled with his. his black shirt clung to him just enough to outline the shape of his arms and shoulders, sleeves stretched snug around his biceps every time he shifted beneath you.

your fingers drew lazy circles against the middle of his chest while you looked up at him quietly, observing his features.

the tiny mole above his eyebrow.

his lashes resting low against his cheeks every time he blinked sleepily.

the curve of his jaw.

his lips.

god, his lips.

jaafar looked relaxed in a way he only ever did around you. hair messy, cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the apartment, eyes half-lidded while he played with the hem of your tank top absentmindedly.

you didn’t even realize how long you’d been staring until his gaze finally dropped to yours.

a slow smile pulled at his mouth.

“you’re staring.”

you hummed softly, still looking at him. “you’re pretty.”

his entire face changed immediately.

a blush spread across his cheeks so fast it almost made you laugh, and he let out a quiet groan before dropping his head back dramatically against the couch cushion.

“stop.”

“it’s true.”

“you say it like every day.”

“‘cause every day i look at you and think ‘he’s so pretty.’”

“baby,” he mumbled, embarrassed now, one hand sliding up to cover part of his face.

you grinned and pulled his hand away gently, intertwining your fingers with his before leaning up to kiss him.

it started soft.

slow.

jaafar kissed you like he was sleepy and addicted to you at the same time, lips warm and lingering against yours while his grip tightened unconsciously at your waist. your hand slid higher up his chest, fingertips brushing over the fabric stretched across him, while your other hand settled along his jaw and neck.

his hands moved instinctively up your back, fingertips pressing into your skin beneath your tank top. the other drifted lower, resting just above your ass while he kissed you deeper, slower.

needier.

you shifted slightly closer against him without thinking.

jaafar inhaled sharply.

the movement dragged you right against him through the fabric of both your sweats, and a low groan slipped from his throat before he could stop it.

your lips curved instantly against his.

the second he realized the sound he made, his cheeks burned again. he let out a breathy laugh under his breath and buried his face against your shoulder like he was suddenly shy about how affected he’d gotten.

“you okay?” you teased softly.

“no,” he muttered into your skin.

you laughed quietly, fingers slipping into his curls again. you smiled softly, brushing your nose against his temple. “you’re cute.”

he lifted his head just enough to look at you again, all flushed cheeks and messy curls and swollen lips from kissing you. he looked completely wrecked already.

just from this.

your thumb brushed lightly over his jaw while you watched his expression soften under your touch.

“don’t start,” he murmured, though there was no real complaint behind it.

his eyes dropped immediately to your lips.

then he kissed you.

hard.

the sound you made got swallowed by his mouth as his hands slid firmly to your hips, pulling you down against him again. your bodies fit together too perfectly like this, warm and tangled together on the couch.

you shifted experimentally against him.

jaafar groaned low into the kiss.

his grip tightened instinctively, fingers digging into your hips while he guided your movements without even thinking about it now. slow at first. then, a little rougher when another soft moan slipped from your mouth.

“fuck,” he breathed quietly against your lips.

you could already feel how affected he was through the fabric of his sweats. the way he reacted to every little thing you did was addictive.

your kisses drifted from his mouth to his jaw, then lower to his neck while he tipped his head back against the couch for you. a shaky breath left him the second your lips brushed against the sensitive skin there.

his hands stayed locked on your hips, still guiding you against him steadily while soft sounds kept slipping from both of you.

“baby,” he whispered, voice rough now.

you hummed innocently against his neck before kissing lower, down the center of his chest. your fingers trailed after your lips slowly, dragging over the fabric stretched across his stomach and pushing his shirt up slightly, before settling near the waistband of his sweats.

jaafar’s stomach tensed beneath your touch.

his eyes stayed glued to you while you toyed with the edge of the waistband, fingertips dipping the fabric down. his black boxers did very little to hide the outline straining beneath them, the dark fabric already damp where precum had started to leak through.

it was truly unfair.

jaafar already had the face, the body, the personality– and was this big too.

thick, flushed, fully hard beneath the fabric, and twitching slightly when your hand draws close.

a soft curse slipped under his breath.

you swallowed hard.

god, he was so fucking fine.

you peeled his boxers down next, trying to keep your expression composed even while your stomach tightened at the sight of him. the second the fabric cleared him completely, his dick sprang free against his stomach, twitching once as more precum gathered at the tip.

your hand wrapped around him gently.

the hiss he let out made heat rush straight between your legs.

you stroked him once.

twice.

then stopped.

“baby,” Jaafar groaned, head tipping back against the couch before his eyes dropped to your hand again.

you ignored him entirely and started moving again, slower this time. deliberate. your hand barely twisted as you stroked him, just enough pressure to make his breathing start breaking apart.

his hips pushed forward unconsciously, trying to chase more friction.

you let go.

his eyes snapped shut.

“you’re killing me,” he breathed out, voice rough and wrecked in a way that made your stomach flip.

you smiled sweetly. “aw, baby. I’m sorry.”

jaafar let out a short, strained laugh under his breath at your tone, one hand dragging down his face before falling back limply on the cushion below him.

you were going to be the death of him.

you wrapped your hand around him again before he could say anything else, stroking him a little faster this time. a soft sigh slipped from him instantly, his lips parting while his head fell back.

“you’re so hard, j,” you teased quietly.

his eyes snap to yours, fully aware now that you were teasing him on purpose.

usually, he was the one doing this to you– teasing you until you were squirming in his lap, until you were whining into his neck and begging him for more while he took his sweet time giving it to you. and when he finally fucked you, he never let up until you were completely gone for him.

now the roles were reversed.

you could practically see the moment he started connecting the dots.

in all honesty, you hadn’t even planned on teasing him like this. but the way he reacted to every little thing you did kept giving you new ideas, making you improvise as you went.

jaafar ignored the comment at first, jaw tightening slightly like he was trying not to give you the satisfaction.

so naturally, you pushed further.

as your hand slid back up his cock, your thumb brushed slowly over the slit at the tip.

jaafar’s hips jerked sharply off the couch, and a whine slipped out before he could stop it.

the sound punched straight through you.

his head fell back against the couch, throat exposed, chest rising unevenly, while both hands gripped tightly onto the cushion beneath him. you watched his jaw flex, watched the muscles in his stomach tense every single time your thumb brushed over that sensitive spot again.

and every single time, he reacted just as hard.

a sharp inhale.

a curse muttered beneath his breath.

his fingered drumming once against the cushion before curling tighter into it again.

his dick was twitching harder in your hand, leaking steadily enough that your strokes had turned slick.

his moans had also become more consistent.

a telltale sign he was getting close.

you brought your other hand up slowly, twisting both hands around him now as you stroked him more firmly.

jaafar bit down hard on his lower lip, clearly trying to contain the noises leaving him and failing miserably.

the second his hips started lifting more insistently into your hands, and his grip tightened sharply against the couch cushion, muscles flexing beneath your touch–

you let go again.

jaafar whined, hips jerking helplessly upward as he searched for your hands again. for friction. for anything

“no, no, no–”

his hands flew down instinctively, reaching for himself, and you caught his wrists before he could touch himself properly, laughing softly at his genuinely offended look that flashed across his face.

“baby,” he groaned, frustrated now.

you shifted quickly before he could recover, moving until you were straddling his hips beneath him to keep him from bucking upward properly.

jaafar dropped his head back against the couch with a curse, chest heaving while his hands landed uselessly at your waist instead.

“you’re mean,” he muttered breathlessly.

you tried to hold back your smile for maybe half a second before leaning down toward him, peppering soft apologetic kisses across his face. the corner of his mouth. his cheek. the little mole above his eyebrow. his jaw.

jaafar exhaled shakily through his nose at that, eyes fluttering shut for a second while his hands settled more firmly against your body.

“there,” you whispered against his skin. “better?”

his head shook weakly enough to make you laugh quietly.

your hand slid back down him, fingers wrapping around him again while your lips hovered near his. his dick twitching in your hand as another strained breath left him.

one hand slid up the outside of your thigh before settling firmly on your ass, squeezing once through the fabric of your sweats. the other slipped beneath your tank top, warm palm spreading against your bare skin before moving higher until he was cradling your chest in his hand.

you sighed softly at the touch, the sound mixing with the uneven breaths leaving jaafar’s mouth as you continued stroking him.

he was unraveling faster now.

the teasing from earlier had left him sensitive enough that every movement pulled a reaction from him immediately. his groans had turned rough and consistent, slipping out every few seconds while his head rested back against the couch.

he breathed out your name shakily.

your hand twisted slightly around him again and jaafar cursed under his breath, grip tightening hard enough against your body to almost keep you still. his stomach flexed beneath you while his hips fought the urge to jerk upward again.

“so sensitive now,” you murmured teasingly.

“it’s your fault,” he shot back instantly, though the words came out strained around another groan.

you smiled against his jaw, still stroking him steadily while his breathing grew more uneven by the second. his dick kept twitching in your hand, leaking enough now that your strokes had turned slick and easy.

jaafar’s composure was hanging by a thread.

you could tell by the way his thighs kept tensing beneath you.

by the way his fingers dug into your skin every few seconds.

by the fact that he’d stopped trying to hide his noises entirely.

“fuck, baby,” he breathed, his eyes squeezed shut.

then your thumb brushed over the tip again.

his body jerked.

a low sound tore from him as his grip tightened sharply on your ass, the hand beneath your tank top flexing against your chest at the same time.

“oh my god,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut. “don’t do that—”

you did it again anyway.

and again.

and again.

a higher moan slipped out of him this time, his head dropping back down against your shoulder as he shuddered into you. the sound alone sent heat rushing straight through you, your stomach tightening at how completely wrecked he sounded.

your hand picked up the pace slightly, enough to make jaafar’s hips start jerking upward again before you pulled away all at once.

his entire body jolted.

“baby–” the word came out broken.

jaafar’s hands tightened desperately against you while his breathing fell apart completely, little tremors running through him from how close he’d been.

“please,” he breathed, voice rough and wrecked. “please, baby, let me cum,”

“i was so fucking close,” he whined, “fuck, please.”

and how were you supposed to deny him after that?

You leaned down to kiss him softly, and jaafar melted into it instantly, kissing you back like he needed it. your hand wrapped around him again, stroking him steadily this time.

he broke the kiss with a moan, eyes fluttering shut while his brows furrowed deeply.

“you’re doing so good, jaafar,” you whispered against his mouth.

a shaky breath left him.

“c’mon, baby. you wanna cum, don’t you?”

he nodded quickly, too needy to pretend otherwise.

“look at me.”

his eyes opened slowly, gaze locking onto yours before drifting lower, watching where your hand moved against him.

the sight alone dragged another helpless sound from him.

his hips stuttered upward into your hand while his grip tightened hard against your waist.

“don’t stop,” he breathed quickly. “don’t stop, don’t–”

you kept your pace steady, watching him come apart beneath you piece by piece, broken curses slipping from him between uneven breaths.

“fuck–fuck, baby,” he whimpered. his entire body tensed suddenly, hands gripping you tighter as he buried his face against your shoulder with a low groan.

you smiled softly, leaning down to kiss his cheek while he caught his breath shakily against your skin.

“such a pretty boy,” you murmured

jaafar let out another shaky breath, still breathing hard as you started shifting off him.

his hands gripped your hips immediately.

you looked back at him and your stomach dropped.

the wrecked look on his face was gone now. he still looked flushed and messy, but his eyes–

his eyes had sharpened, fixed on you with that look that made heat crawl up your spine instantly.

he pulled you back against him.

“you had your fun?” he asked quietly.

the calmness in his voice was terrifying.

a slow small smile tugged at his mouth when you didn’t answer right away.

“yeah,” he murmured. “that’s what i thought.”

before you could say anything, he stood, lifting you with him effortlessly. a surprised gasp left you as your legs wrapped around his waist automatically.

jaafar’s hand slid up your thigh as he carried you toward the bedroom.

yeah. you were done for.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

hi lol .. this was kinda fun to write so i think i might start writing more !

the music started again. 

you didn't bother looking up right away.

you already knew what you'd see.

jaafar moved through the same section he'd been working on for most of the night, his reflection following him across the mirrored wall. every now and then, he'd stop to watch the playback on his phone before trying again. you couldn't see what he was seeing. to you, it had looked good hours ago. 

jaafar strongly disagreed.

a fond smile pulled at your mouth as you watched him pause halfway through the choreography and mutter something to himself. 

his white shirt had long since lost the battle against rehearsal. the fabric clung damply to his skin, and a few curls had fallen loose across his forehead. 

drawing your knees up to your chest, you rested your chin on your folded arms, content to watch him from across the room. 

the track looped back to the beginning. jaafar moved easily with it, already counting under his breath before the choreography fully began. his feet seemed to know where to go before he even thought about it. every movement flowed naturally into the next, sharp one second and smooth the next. 

you weren't a dancer. half the time you couldn't tell what he was trying to fix. but you liked watching him anyway.

maybe it was the way he got so focused that he forgot about everything else around him. maybe it was the little habits you'd learned by heart after sitting through enough rehearsals.

the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating, or the way his hand would automatically push his curls back whenever they fell into his eyes. 

or maybe you just liked looking at him. 

across the room, jaafar spun before coming to a stop, shaking his head at himself almost instantly. 

you smiled.

he was cute when he got like this.

instead of reaching for his phone again, jaafar lingered where he was, clearly debating whether he could get away with checking it one more time. 

you tilted your head. "i think you've earned a break."

a breathless laugh escaped him. "have i?" he asked, tilting his head back at you with his hands resting on his hips. 

“yes. my feet are hurting just watching you dance for this long.” 

he laughed, the sound softer this time, but his gaze still flickered toward his phone before returning to you. 

“don’t even think about it,” you warned playfully.

his mouth twitched into a grin. holding both hands up in surrender, he finally made his way over to your corner of the room.

“you know what?” he said. “i could go for a snack.”

he crouched down in front of you, reaching for your hand. you placed it in his without hesitation. his hands were warm against yours from dancing, his thumbs drifting lazily over the back of your hand as he looked at you.

you tried very hard to ignore the flutter in your chest.

“we could go down to the vending machines and pick something out,” you offered. 

“there’s a convenience store just down the street, baby. these vending machines aren’t gonna cut it,” he said with a dramatic sigh. 

you laughed.

“i like the way you think.”

“also, fresh air,” he added.

jaafar stood up, keeping his hands locked with yours as he effortlessly pulled you up after him.

“best decision you’ve made all day,” you teased.

he rolled his eyes, smiling as he reached for his sweater and pulled it on.

the last of spring lingered in the air, cool enough to feel against your skin but softened by the promise of summer. jaafar walked beside you with his hand locked in yours, your fingers laced together as he lightly swung your joined hands between you. 

the streetlights cast soft pools of gold across the quiet sidewalk.

you couldn't help looking at him.

maybe it was the lighting, or maybe it was just him, but the glow from the lamps caught along the sharp edges of his features, softening some parts of him while making others stand out even more. 

either way, he looked so handsome. 

he caught you staring after a minute of walking in deep thought. you flashed him with a grin, which he returned.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teased, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

you laughed despite the painfully lame joke.

“okay,” you said cheerfully.

the sudden agreement caught him off guard.

before he could question it, you slipped your hand from his and stepped behind him, reaching up. you grasped his shoulders and gave him a small tug to make him stop walking.

jaafar caught on quickly, crouching without a word.

the moment you hopped onto his back, his hands settled beneath your thighs to steady you. you wrapped one arm securely around his shoulders while using the other to dig your phone out of your pocket. 

opening the camera app, you stretched your arm out in front of you. jaafar leaned in beside you, the two of you flashing the cheesiest, most ridiculous smiles you could manage at the screen

the automatic flash went off without warning.

jaafar squeezed his eyes shut as the camera snapped the picture.

you pulled the phone back to look at the result and immediately burst into giggles, turning the screen so he could see.

you looked fine– a wide grin stretched across your face, your eyes squinting slightly from smiling too hard.

jaafar, on the other hand, looked ridiculous.

his eyes were squeezed shut from the flash, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and a dopey grin stretched across his face that somehow matched your own. 

“delete that,” he said through a laugh, letting go of one of your thighs to make a grab for your phone. 

you saw it coming and pulled it out of reach before he could get anywhere near it, quickly tucking it back into your pocket.

“baby!” he laughed.

“nope. that’s officially my new favourite picture of us.” 

“i’m deleting that when you fall asleep tonight.”

“you better not,” you said, lightly whacking his arm.

as the glowing neon sign of the convenience store finally came into view, you shifted on his back, preparing to hop down so you could walk inside normally. 

instead, jaafar's grip only tightened around your legs. you turned your head to look at him with a confused expression, which he completely ignored. 

“put me down,” you laughed.

“nope.”

a mischievous spark flashed through his eyes before he turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. he bounced you slightly on his back as he adjusted his grip.

“jaafar, seriously. we're going inside,” you whisper-shouted, already fighting a laugh as you buried your face against the side of his neck. his cologne had faded a little over the course of the night, softened now by hours of dancing.

“i know," he replied, his voice rumbling low against your chest. 

he pushed open the glass door with his shoulder, the bell above it letting out a cheerful ding that seemed far too energetic for nearly one in the morning. 

inside, the store was bathed in that familiar, unforgivingly bright fluorescent lighting.

the cashier behind the counter barely glanced up with a bored look before returning to whatever was on his phone. 

“see? no one cares," jaafar murmured, though he was grinning so wide his cheeks were practically pressing into yours. 

“you're ridiculous," you giggled, burying your face in jaafar’s shoulder as he carried you straight toward the candy aisle. your feet swung idly with each step.

he stopped in front of the shelves and immediately reached for a bright yellow bag. 

reaching out with one hand while keeping a steady grip on your thigh with the other, he snagged a bag of sour patch kids and shook them right next to your ear so the sugar rattled inside. 

“the best part of the night, right here," he said, a genuine, boyish grin pulling at his lips. 

“you're going to burn a hole in your stomach eating those this late," you joked, leaning over his shoulder to scan the rows. your fingers wrapped around the packaging of your own absolute favorite snack, pulling it down.

“the sour wakes me up," he argued, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "what's your excuse?"

“i don't need an excuse. i'm just keeping you company,” you countered, nudging his cheek with your own.

jaafar let out another one of his breathless laughs. he turned around on his heel, keeping you securely on his back as he walked the few steps over to the drink cooler to grab a couple of bottles to wash down the sugar. 

the cashier scanned everything with the same bored rhythm he’d had since you’d walked in, the register beeping softly in the quiet store.

“reach into my pocket,” jaafar said, tilting his head back slightly. “my wallet's in there.” 

you nodded as you leaned down to slide your hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

as the cashier muttered the total, you flipped it open, found his card, and tapped it against the reader for him. the machine chimed as you slipped the wallet back into your own pocket for safekeeping.

“teamwork,” you whispered in his ear.

his smile widened at that as he leaned forward just enough for you to grab the snacks from the counter before turning back toward the door. 

as soon as the glass door swung open and the cool, crisp night air hit you again, jaafar finally let you slide down his back, your sneakers hitting the pavement.

you felt a sudden wave of peaceful contentment wash over you. the city was so quiet, like the dark streets belonged entirely to the two of you. 

jaafar didn't even wait to get back to the studio.

before you had even walked ten steps from the storefront, you heard the sharp tear of plastic. 

he reached into the bag, his long fingers pulling out a red sour patch kid.

instead of eating it himself, he held it up to your lips.

“first one’s yours,” he said softly, nudging it towards your mouth.

you smiled and leaned forward, taking the candy from his fingers. the familiar sweet-and-sour flavor burst across your tongue as you chewed.

jaafar watched you for a second, a quiet, satisfied chuckle escaping him when you gave him an approving nod.

only then did he grab a couple for himself. 

“good, right?" he murmured. 

you nodded.

he shoved the candy bag into his jacket pocket and slipped his fingers back into yours, lacing them together.

he slowed his pace to match yours perfectly, lifting your joined hands just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your knuckles. 

by the time you made it back to the studio, the midnight chill was easily forgotten.

jaafar pushed the heavy door open, and the quiet warmth of the building welcomed you both back inside.

the music from earlier was still paused on his phone, the empty floor and the wall of mirrors exactly as you had left them. 

instead of heading back to your corner by the wall, jaafar tugged gently on your hand, pulling you right into the center of the room. 

“c’mere,” he said, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he reached over to hit play on his phone. 

“jaafar, no, I told you I'm not a dancer," you laughed, trying to pull back, but he didn't let you get far. 

“doesn't matter. just follow me," he murmured. 

the music started up again, a smooth, slow rhythm filling the empty space.

jaafar wrapped one arm securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while his other hand kept yours held high. he started to move, guiding you through a relaxed, effortless sway that had absolutely nothing to do with the sharp, intense choreography he’d been stressing over all night. 

much to your surprise, it actually went okay. jaafar steered you with a gentle pressure at your waist, guiding you in wherever you needed to go next.

“see? you're doing great," he teased, spinning you out under his arm before pulling you right back into his space. 

"okay, this isn't that ba– shit!"

the words barely left your mouth before jaafar dipped you, arm locked around your waist to keep you from falling. 

your grip on him locked around him until he pulled you upright again, nearly stepping on your own feet.

"jaafar!"

his laugh echoed through the empty studio as he pulled you securely against him.

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” he countered, his voice full of amusement. 

“i do. my life flashed before my eyes,” you complained, though the grin stretching across your face completely ruined any attempt at sounding serious.

you rested your hands on his shoulders, your heart thumping a little faster.

partly from the sudden dip.

partly from how incredibly close he was holding you. 

“i had you the whole time. I'd never let you fall," he murmured. the playful edge in his voice softened just a bit, his thumbs tracing quiet, comforting circles through the fabric of your shirt.

the music around you began to fade out, the last notes drifting through the studio before disappearing altogether.

silence settled over the room, but neither of you moved.

the playful banter trailed off into a quiet, breathless smile as jaafar looked down at you. the studio lights caught the damp curls falling across his forehead, casting a warm glow over the sharp angles of his face. his gaze drifted down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, a sudden, heavy tenderness settling between you. 

“i love you,” he whispered.

before you could even respond, he leaned down and closed the small distance between you. 

the kiss was soft at first, a gentle, lingering pressure that tasted faintly of the sweet candy you’d just shared. a quiet sigh escaped you, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into him. jaafar’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer as the kiss deepened. his lips were incredibly soft, moving against yours with a slow, deliberate sweetness that made your head spin. 

one of his hands slid up from your waist, his long fingers trailing up your spine before tangling gently in the hair at the nape of your neck, holding you close.

the kiss was soft, slow, entirely unhurried, and full of quiet affection that left you completely breathless.

every time he pulled back just an inch, his lips would brush yours again, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to fully break the contact. 

when he finally did let you catch your breath, he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning across your cheek as his thumb gently traced your jawline. 

“thanks for staying up with me," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate register that always made your heart do a dangerous little flip.

"even if you are keeping that blackmail photo." 

a quiet laugh slipped out of you.

“oh, it's never leaving my phone," you smiled, your voice a little breathy as you leaned into his touch. 

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

he'd sooooo put that pic as his wallpaper later

but the room itself felt warm.

maybe because of him.

his suit jacket hung loose off one shoulder now, the fabric wrinkled from the car ride back and from your hands. his tie hung loose around his neck, completely undone, and the first few buttons of his shirt had come open at some point between the elevator and the room.

he looked too good.

you kicked your heels off near the door with a dull clack against the floor before looking back at him.

jaafar was already staring.

leaning against the edge of the dresser with one hand braced behind him, shirt slightly untucked, while his eyes followed you through the room with absolutely no shame.

his gaze dragged over you slowly as you crossed the room toward him, the silk fabric of your dress shifting softly against your skin with every step, catching the warm amber light spilling from the lamps beside the bed.

“stop looking at me like that,” you murmured.

a lazy grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“give me a reason to look anywhere else.”

you rolled your eyes, but the distance between you closed instantly as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you in. his palm felt warm through the thin fabric of your dress.

“see?” he whispered, his eyes dipping to your lips. “you can’t.”

your pulse quickened. it always did when he looked at you like this. 

the expensive black dress shirt stretched across his chest as he leaned back against the dresser, sleeves rolled carelessly to his forearms.

his eyes looked darker than usual, heavy-lidded and intensely focused on you.

“you’re quiet,” he murmured after a moment.

your fingers drifted to the satin hanging around his collar, smoothing it between your fingers.

“so are you.”

a quiet breath left him through his nose before his eyes flicked back to your face. 

“that’s because i’m trying very hard to behave.”

fighting a smile, you tilted your head slightly. “behave from what?”

amusement flickered across his face. “you know exactly what,” his voice had gone rough enough to send heat crawling down your spine. 

you pretended to think for a second before narrowing your eyes at him dramatically.

“no,” you said thoughtfully. “i don’t think i do.”

jaafar just looked at you for a second, already fully aware you were messing with him.

you only smiled innocently back. 

then his hands tightened around your waist before he pulled your hips flush against his.

and you felt it.

to say he was turned on would have been putting it lightly. you could feel the firm, demanding heat of him burning through his slacks.

“still confused?” he murmured.

your fingers stilled against the satin hanging loose around his neck. you didn’t answer right away. instead, you gave the ends of the fabric a slow, deliberate tug, bringing his face just inches from yours while a small, knowing smirk played on your lips.

jaafar studied your face for a second, his own grin fading into a look of cautious amusement.

“i know that look. you’re up to something.”

“maybe i am,” you hummed, flashing him an innocent smile before sliding your hand down to take his.

jaafar let you pull him away from the dresser with little resistance, following you over to the bed. he settled back against the headboard, one arm draped loosely over the pillows behind him as he watched you climb into his lap.

your dress rode higher against your thighs, the silk bunching slightly as your knees settled on either side of him. his hands found your hips again without hesitation.

you leaned in first, kissing him softly. both of your eyes fluttered shut almost immediately. the kiss stayed lazy at first – slow and unhurried. your lips moved against his, tongues brushing while jaafar kissed you back with a quiet eagerness that made warmth curl in your stomach.

you felt his fingers push into the supple skin of your waist as you kissed him harder, your hands sliding up his chest to grip at the collar of his shirt. it was intimate, wet, and slow like you were trying to coax each other to open up. 

a quiet sound slipped from him at the feeling – soft and breathy. 

your stomach tightened at that.

you loved watching his composure slip piece by piece whenever you touched him like this.

his hands drifted lower after, settling against the tops of your thighs while you shifted against him. the movement made your dress ride up further, until the only thing separating you and jaafar was his pants and your underwear. with one fluid motion, you shifted forward just enough that your center pressed flush against him.

his breath caught in his throat, fingers tightening at your waist. his hips pushed up without permission, grinding against you once – slow and filthy until the friction stole your own breath away.

jaafar caught your bottom lip with his teeth, nipping and tugging slightly, coaxing a breathy gasp from you. your hands slid down his chest just enough to gather the fabric of his shirt, gripping the collar tightly as your hips rose involuntarily into his grasp. his grip on your waist grew tighter, falling lower to hold the tops of your thighs. he pulled you even closer to him until you sat back completely on him, your weight resting against his hips.

you could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing directly into you.

you guided your kisses lower, mouth brushing the edge of his jaw.

his head tipped back slightly on instinct, exposing the long stretch of his throat to you like a silent invitation. and you accepted it. 

you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw, then another. his skin was hot. the second your lips met his skin, a low groan slipped from his throat. 

your lips dragged along his jaw, your tongue flicking out to taste the warmth of his skin, the faint smell of his cologne clinging to his neck. he was so warm beneath you, his muscles tense, holding his breath like he was waiting to see if you'd stop. 

you wouldn't, of course 

you trailed lower, your mouth lingering on the smooth line of his throat. you pressed your lips wider against the sensitive skin just below his ear, sucking lightly just to feel him shudder beneath you.

you trailed the kisses lower, on his neck, down to his chest.

he rocked up again, a little more firmly this time. he was grinding you down now, hands tight on your waist, dragging you over the length of him like he needs the friction or he's going to lose it. 

you bit your lip.

he was so hard already, it was ridiculous, and you were soaked. the damp material of your panties clung to your slit like a second skin, and with every slow grind, your clit caught just right on the thick ridge of him.

you felt dizzy.

drunk on the sensation.

your breath got stuck somewhere high in your chest, and all you can do was move with him – rolling your hips, letting him pull you back and forth over him.

“you feel…” jaafar groaned again, his eyes fluttering shut. his head dropped back onto the pillows as another roll of his hips met yours. “...god, you feel so good like this.”

your fingers gripped his collar. you were panting now, lips parted, flushed all the way to your chest.

your clit was throbbing, your thighs trembling.

all you were doing was rocking against him, barely more than dry humping, but even then, the friction was already too much.

you leaned in again, brushing you lips beneath his ear, and jaafar shuddered beneath you. his grip on your waist grew bruisingly firm, like he’s doing everything in his power to ground himself.

“feel that?” he mutters low against your shoulder, his breath ragged. “that’s what you do to me.”

you swallowed hard, head spinning. you couldn’t even bring yourself to answer.

you just leaned in again, kissing down the length of his throat while he kept rocking you, grinding you down like he’s trying to get you both off without taking a single layer of clothes off.

you couldn’t stop.

but you couldn’t let him keep setting the pace.

still catching your breath, you slid your palms down his arms, over the sleeves stretched across his biceps and along his exposed forearms, your fingertips skimming the faint veins beneath his skin.

he watched you with lips parted, chest heaving, his brows pulling together when you finally reached down and took him firmly by the wrists.

“what are you doing?” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.

you only leaned in to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back.

your fingers found the satin tie hanging loose around his neck. the fabric felt cool and smooth against his skin as you wrapped it carefully around his wrists once… then twice.

jaafar looked down at his captured wrists, his mind finally putting two and two together. you could see the exact moment the haze vanished from his mind. when he looked back up, a hunger flared in his eyes, his gaze darkening completely as his chest began to rise and fall in a much slower, deeper rhythm.

“baby,” the word came out half-laugh, half-disbelief.

you tilted your head innocently. “what?”

“you can’t be serious,” he breathed.

your fingers slid along his wrists gently before guiding his arm backward toward the headboard. the hotel sheets rustled underneath him as he leaned back slightly to let you move him where you wanted. his eyes never left your face once.

the room felt quieter than before.

smaller somehow and more intimate.

you looped the tie around the bedframe carefully before tightening the knot just enough to hold.

you felt him again– how hard he was underneath you. how close he was to snapping. jaafar flexed his wrist experimentally against the satin before letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh under his breath. he was so hard, his cock twitching under you.

“oh my god,” he muttered.

you only smiled.

“you’re scary.”

but his voice came out quieter now, warmer. because, despite the words, he was looking at you like he wanted you to keep going.

you leaned forward, resting your palms flat against his chest and letting your full weight settle into his lap. the sudden, close heat of your body made him let out a low, rough grunt.

his jaw clenched so tight a small muscle ticked in his cheek, his eyes half-lidded as they locked onto yours. 

“you’re driving me insane, baby,” he rasped, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly tone that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“i’m just taking my time,” you hummed, sliding your hands slowly down the front of his shirt. 

you popped the remaining buttons open one by one, your fingertips brushing over the warm, smooth skin of his chest. every time your nails lightly scraped over his skin, his breath hitched, his chest rising in sharp, shallow swells beneath your palms. 

leaning down, you let your breath brush against his lips, but you didn't kiss him right away. you hovered there, teasing him, until jaafar groaned and lifted his head off the pillows to try and close the distance himself. he couldn't quite reach, straining forward with a quiet huff of frustration. 

a triumphant little smile pulled at your mouth. you rewarded him then, capturing his lips in a kiss that was no longer lazy.

it was deep and demanding.

jaafar poured all his energy into the movement of his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours with a desperate eagerness. he was completely matching your rhythm now, his chest heaving under your hands as you broke the kiss to trail your mouth down his chin.

you shifted on top of him, straddling his thighs, the soft press of your inner thighs brushing his trousers as you steadied yourself. all you could feel was him straining under you, bound above, eyes glassy with need. 

he tried to jerk upward again, wrists flexing hard against the satin tie. it tightened with the tension, tugging against the frame, but it held.

and the way he groaned when he realized he couldn't move – when it finally sank that he couldn’t reach for you, couldn’t pull you closer, couldn’t take the lead the way he usually did.

it sent a shiver straight through you,

a pulse.

a throb.

a wicked ache that bloomed between your legs and crawled up your spine.

he was completely at your mercy.

your hands slid slowly up his chest again, spreading the panels of his dress shirt wider.

it was rumpled at his sides now, bunched in messy folds under your knees, completely open from the collar down to his waist.

you let out a soft, breathless laugh, looking down at the result.

jaafar couldn’t have cared less about the state of his clothes.

he was only looking at you.

“you’re terrible,” he groaned.

he had a smile, tugging at the corner of his mouth. teeth caught on his bottom lip.

but the second your mouth returned to his chest, his smile disappeared.

he was burning hot under your lips, his chest smooth and firm. you kissed down his sternum, open-mouthed, dragging your tongue along the hard dip between his muscles, feeling every shudder of his body as he struggled to stay still for you.

his stomach jerked, contracting sharply when you nipped the sensitive skin just above his navel.

your hands followed, nails grazing lightly down his sides.

“my god,” he breathed, his head slamming back against the pillow. “you’re–”

you glanced up again.

he was panting now, his pupils swallowing nearly all of the dark warmth in his eyes. his lips were parted, swollen, and you watched the muscle in his jaw lock as he tried to keep himself completely still because he knew you wanted him to.

and then you popped the metal clasp of his trousers.

his body tensed. a full-body shudder ripping through him, his hips fighting not to thrust straight into your hands.

you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and tugged the zipper down just enough, the smooth, metallic glide sending another wave of liquid heat rolling through your core. you hooked your fingers over the waistband of his dark briefs and pulled his dick out into the open air.

oh fuck.

he was thick, swollen, and visibily twitching against his abdomen. 

at the tip, a bead of pre-cum had already bloomed, glistening against the flushed skin.

you swore you saw it pulse.

your mouth went completely dry.

there was something so intensely obscene about the sight of him like this – the way he was already leaking for you, the head straining for attention.

begging to be touched.

begging for your hands, your mouth, anything.

you settled your weight right back onto his thighs.

your own panties clung to you, soaked completely through, clinging tight between your lips from how wet you were.

but instead of pulling back, you ground down.

slowly.

your soaked panties met the leaking head of his cock, and the contact was electric.

it hit your clit just right, rubbing against the stiff, burning ridge beneath you, and you both moaned at the same time.

jaafar bucked upward on instinct, tugging on the satin tie. the restraint held firm, keeping his arms anchored and trapping him under your weight.

“oh my god– ,” he gasped, his voice breaking halfway through.

his eyes snapped open, locked onto yours, completely undone but still trying to hold your gaze. “what are you– shit, baby, please–”

“shhh,” you whispered, leaning forward to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

his lips chased yours with a desperate eagerness, but you were already pulling away. 

you rolled your hips again.

slower, deeper, dragging your soaked heat across the full length of his cock like it was nothing.

“god– you’re gonna– ” his voice dissolved into a strained rasp.

his wrists pulled back hard against the satin tie, the muscles across his chest and shoulders flexing as his breath hitched deep in his throat. 

“you’re so hard,” you whispered softly, rocking your hips against him again. “you’re dripping.” 

your panties were grinding directly against his bare skin, slick, warm, and filthy between you. 

the damp silk of your underwear smeared the mess directly over his head, spreading his pre-cum across both of you until everything felt friction-soaked and slippery. 

“don’t say it like that,” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he tried to lift his hips upward to meet you. 

you moaned this time, the sound catching in your throat.

the contact hit your sweet spot too perfectly. your body was starting to throb from the inside out.

your thighs trembled slightly as you moved again, your clit grinding along that burning, swollen ridge.

you leaned down to kiss his jaw, trailing your mouth along his neck. you bit down gently just below his ear as you rolled your hips in another slow, deliberate circle.

when he let out a wrecked groan, you felt the vibration of it low in your belly, twisting everything tight.

you were soaked.

your pussy found the exact shape of him, and you settled there, pressing down slowly, letting your full weight sink into his lap until the thick ridge of his cock was nestled snug against your folds.

it was too much and not enough all at once. 

you stilled for a second. you felt him pulse hard against you.

you felt your own arousal spill, hot and thick, soaking the fabric of your underwear until it grew slippery beneath you. even with the layer separating you, it felt like he was everywhere.

jaafar’s breath stuttered.

you glanced up, and his face was completely undone. his head was tipped back against the pillows, his jaw clenched so tight a sharp muscle ticked in his cheek.

the tension in his upper body was immense, his sleeves bunched around his forearms as his arms remained taut against the bedframe, but he didn't move.

he just took it. 

“shit, baby,” he whispered, his voice raw and gravelly. “you’re so wet… i can feel it. i can feel everything.” 

“yeah?” you breathed, leaning forward until your palms pressed flat against his bare chest. 

his skin was hot under your hands, his heart hammering hard enough that you could feel the rhythmic thud against your fingertips.

you ground again, slower this time, a deep, heavy roll that made your clit throb and your jaw tremble.

it was so messy now.

the squelch of your slick catching every time your pussy slid over his skin. 

all he could do was watch you through half-lidded eyes.

he jerked once, but the satin tie binding his wrists held him firm. 

“please,” he choked out, his eyes squeezing shut as his head turned into the pillow. “please, baby... if you keep doing that, i’m gonna–i can’t–”

you tightened your thighs, dragging yourself forward one last time, letting the tip of his cock press right beneath your clit. you held the pressure there, freezing in place. 

you just felt him pulse.

you wanted him to lose his mind.

you wanted him to break completely. 

but more than that, you wanted to ride that exact edge – watching every stutter of his hips, every ragged breath, while he fought against the restraints and begged for something you weren't ready to give him yet.

jaafar let out a quiet, broken whimper.

it punched straight to your core.

your hips faltered, your rhythm stuttering as a rush of heat flooded through you. you couldn’t help the sharp gasp that slipped out of your lips, your body shuddering as the head of his cock dragged just right over your sweet spot. you were close, too.

embarrassingly close. 

“please,” jaafar begged again, his voice entirely broken this time. “baby, please, let me touch you… i need to… you’re gonna make me cum just like this–”

you sat up straighter, your hips still grinding in slow circles as you braced your hands on his stomach. he was flushed, panting, his wrists twisted uselessly above him. his cock twitched under your gaze, smeared entirely slick from where you had been grinding over him.

his skin flushed a deeper shade, stretched over the hard lines of his chest and abdomen. his abs twitched sharply when your fingers traced lightly down his ribs, catching the deep shiver that ran through his entire frame.

you bent forward again, slower this time.

you pressed your lips back to the heat of his lower stomach, your mouth open, your tongue dragging with slow intent. his cock rested just above your face now, so close that the swollen head brushed your cheek when you shifted your weight. your hands slid up the thick muscle of his thighs, your nails grazing lightly as you went. 

he was panting through gritted teeth. you breathed against the head of his cock, and his entire stomach jerked. he tested the bound satin again, but the tie remained tight.

you met his gaze, your lips curling into a slow, smug smile. 

then, without warning, you finally took him into your mouth.

just the tip.

just enough for your lips to slip warm and wet around the head of his cock, letting it rest heavy on your tongue.

jaafar groaned, sounding like even the lightest touch of your mouth was almost too much for him to take.

you pulled back slightly, letting him fall from your lips with a quiet wet pop.

his hips jerked instinctively, straining upward toward your face

you glanced up, watching the smooth muscles in his forearms tense against the fabric. 

your fingers curled loosely around the base of his shaft, just enough to anchor him, your thumb stroking lightly over the thick ridge on the underside. your mouth hovered over the tip, close enough that your breath fanned out in steady, warm pulses, making the bead of pre-cum glisten even more.

you dragged your tongue along the slit.

slow and delicate.

just a taste.

he let out a choked noise that made your own thighs clench again.

then you did it again — slower this time, the flat of your tongue dragging down the head, tracing along the swollen rim before circling back up to the top.

you watched him twitch beneath you, watched the muscles in his stomach ripple and his chest rise in short, shallow bursts. 

“shit, baby—” he grits out, his voice completely strained, his eyes squeezed shut.

you hummed softly against his skin, your mouth ghosting over the flushed head as if you were savoring it.

you pressed an open-mouthed kiss right to the tip.

then another, and another, working your way around him in slow, teasing circles.

your saliva mixed with his pre-cum, warm and sticky as your lips smeared across the head. you never took more than just the top inch into your mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of more.

“you’re killing me,” he groaned, tugging hard against the satin. “please–”

you looked up at him, your eyes bright. “please what?”

he swallowed, his throat working as he tried not to break completely. “please suck me. let me in your mouth.”

you smiled before dragging your tongue hard against the underside of the head, dragging it down with unbearable pressure. 

you gathered saliva in your mouth, lubricating the shaft before wrapping your hand around the base. 

once you were satisfied, your hand started to move, stroking the thick length with a lazy pace. 

his hips twitched, his mouth falling open. “oh my fucking god.”

you took him again, a little deeper this time, lips wrapping snug as you sucked shallowly in soft, rhythmic pulls that made his back arch and his voice crack.

he was panting now, moaning under his breath like the sound was being ripped out of him. 

you held his gaze, unblinking, and went even slower.

you let him slide out of your mouth, saliva stringing from your lips to the tip, before kissing your way back down to the base. every few seconds, you returned to the tip again, like it was the first time, making him work for every bit of attention.

he groaned, hands fisting helplessly against the headboard. finally, you opened your mouth wide and started to take him deeper.

slow.

so fucking slow. 

the stretch made your jaw ache immediately, but you kept going, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.

his voice was breaking with every sound, and you felt the vibration straight in your core.

he twitched against your tongue, leaking even more as his hips strained up into the heat of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, then eased up, dragging your mouth back with a long, slow pull until just the tip rested on your tongue.

his dark eyes found yours, wild and desperate with need.

you smiled sweetly and slid down deep again, pulling off gradually while dragging your tongue along the entire underside. 

you made sure he felt every ridge and every flick.

your hand started moving again, wrapping tightly around the base.

his hips twitched, his mouth falling open as he tried not to break completely under the pressure. 

“oh my god.”

he was panicking in the best way.

his hips jerked uselessly while his bound arms fought against the tension in his shoulders. the tie didn’t budge.

he was entirely helpless.

it was obvious he wasn’t used to being this wrecked from so little.

you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, base to tip, then swirled your tongue once around the head before dragging your lips off him, slow and merciless. 

“you like that?” you murmured against the shaft, your breath hot. 

he nodded frantically, his jaw clenched tight. you gave him a teasing stroke of your thumb back up his slick shaft, and he writhed beneath you, his whole body tense and trembling.

he was beautiful like this.

tied up and completely unraveling right in front of you

a sheen of sweat glistened along his hairline, his lips parted and red as he tried not to cum just from this. 

and then you gave him what he had been begging for.

you wrapped your mouth around him again and sank, going past that two-inch mark. you sank slower, letting your throat stretch around the thick shape of him as your hand gripped his base, guiding him all the way in.

his moan was guttural, torn straight from his chest. his legs shook. he tried to lift his hips and failed against the tight restraint, choking out a desperate, “baby, please–”

you moaned around him in response, the deep vibration buzzing through every inch of him, and his whole body broke. he was leaking down your throat, twitching uncontrollably, his thighs trembling against your shoulders as his mouth gasped open.

you pulled back slowly. you kissed the tip one more time like an apology, then rested your cheek against his thigh, letting him think he was getting a moment to recover. his chest heaved in broken, shallow bursts. his arms were still flexed and trembling, his knuckles pale from how hard he was gripping at nothing. 

you smiled, not even pretending to be sorry. you watched the heavy, uneven rise and fall of his chest for just a beat before you slowly leaned back down, refusing to give him time to actually catch his breath.

your mouth returned to the head of his cock, slow and reverent, before you pushed forward until you felt the stretch again. the thickness of him pressed to the very back of your tongue, your lips stretched tight around the base of the head. your jaw ached, but the way he sounded like he was breaking apart under your tongue turned you on too much to stop. 

he was muttering now, nonsensical praise and filth tangled together. “so good, baby, so good, that’s it, deeper– take it, yeah, just like that…” 

your throat fluttered in protest, the heat and thickness pressing deep. you pulled back with a wet gasp, letting the crown rest heavy on your tongue while you sucked in two quick breaths. 

jaafar watched you, his chest rising in hard, shaky swells. “you’re doin’ so good, baby,” he murmured, voice completely raw. “look at you.”

the praise made your core clench around nothing.

determined, you leaned forward, your tongue flattening beneath his weight as your lips slid lower. another inch, then another, past the soft give of your throat until you flinched, pulling back instinctively with a sharp gag. 

your eyes watered as you sucked in air.

“easy,” jaafar soothed, his wrists twisting against the satin bound to the bedframe. “don’t rush. just breathe. 

you nodded and lowered your mouth again.

guiding him with your hand as you eased your mouth open around him, taking him deeper inch by inch. you could feel every ridge, every twitch of his cock, dragging hot against your tongue. 

tears stung the corners of your eyes as the tip pressed into that deep spot again. you paused there, breathing shallowly as your body adjusted. your thighs squeezed together, achingly wet from his breathless noises and the weight of him stretching your throat. 

jaafar’s voice was thick with restraint.

“that’s it, baby… god, you’re taking me so well.” 

you whimpered around him, a choked sound that made his cock jerk in your mouth. you gripped the base tighter and pushed down a little further. every time you hit your limit, you pulled back just enough to breathe before trying again.

“mouth’s too good, baby,” he gritted out. “you’re gonna make me lose it.” 

finally, your throat gave.

jaafar choked. “oh– there you go.” his voice cracked. “there you go.”

his head dropped back, his eyes rolling up as his whole body twitched. his hips jolted slightly, but he froze immediately after, fighting every instinct not to fuck up into your mouth.

he was buried so deep you couldn’t even hum, your throat trembling around the intrusion. 

you pulled back slowly, your jaw trembling by the time you finally slipped off him and gasped for air.

jaafar was completely wrecked – his face flushed dark, his hair damp with sweat, chest rising in uneven breaths. 

you met his gaze, your own tear-lined.

you kept your eyes locked onto his as you immediately slid right back down, your hand wrapping around his base, slick and warm. 

his groan vibrated through the mattress.

your mouth was stuffed so full that your jaw felt like it was about to cramp. 

he threw his head back into the pillow, groaning so loud it vibrated through the mattress. "baby, don’t move. please don't–”

you froze, letting your throat flutter helplessly around him. you could feel the way the tight confinement drove him crazy, his hips twitching with the urge to thrust.

then, you started to move again, pulling back with a slick, obscene sound. you caught your breath in a wet gasp and then sank back down just as slowly. 

you let your hands get completely filthy, smearing the copious amounts of his own pre-cum until the noise between his thighs was a constant, heavy squelch that filled the quiet room.

jaafar’s eyes heavy-lidded as he watched you completely dismantle him. “shit, you’re making such a mess,” he hitched, his bound wrists twisting weakly against the satin.

his jaw fell completely open. a high, broken whimper leaked out of him, his dark eyes rolling back so far only the whites showed for a second. “so good—baby, please, just like that, right there—” 

you used your thumb to aggressively smear his own leaking fluid right over the sensitive slit at the tip. 

his abdomen locked. the muscles went completely rigid, a violent tremor passing from his chest straight down to his knees. he didn't even have the breath to scream.

his chest just stayed puffed up, frozen, as the first thick pulse erupted from him, painting his stomach. a low, gravelly groan finally scraped out of his throat, his bound arms straining against the headboard as his body turned itself inside out. 

but you didn't let him descend. you didn't give him that grace.

while he was still actively pulsing, your hand kept going — slower now, but heavier, dragging friction over skin that had just become a raw nerve. 

jaafar’s eyes snapped open, instantly pooling with tears from the sheer, unadulterated shock of the sensitivity.

“no, no, wait. please, hold on–” he thrashed, his hips trying to sink back into the mattress to escape your hands.

“i know,” you whispered against his jaw, your voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “i know, baby.”

you twisted your palm over the head, a wet, bruising rotation that completely short-circuited his recovery. his legs shook violently as his nervous system misfired. before the first orgasm had even cleared his chest, his hips jolted upward in a second, desperate spasm. another wave forced its way out of him, completely unprompted, a pathetic, weeping sob tearing from his lungs as he came twice in less than a minute. 

he was practically hyperventilating now, his mouth working silently as he fought for oxygen, the corners of his eyes leaking fat tears that tracked down into his hair. he looked completely ruined, entirely used. 

the mess on your hands was obscene now, a thick, white-streaked lacquer of his own seed that made every stroke sound incredibly vulgar. you picked the pace right back up, showing no mercy to his overstimulated body, your fingers wrapping tight around the base to milk him completely dry. 

“i can’t–” he cried out, his voice completely broken, his fingers twitching helplessly against the satin knots. 

“you’re doing so well for me,” you cooed, your thumb tracing the underside of his head over and over until a clear, thin fluid started to steadily leak out, mixing with the heavy mess on your palms. 

the overload took over entirely. he couldn't even form words anymore – only high, pathetic, rhythmic whines escaped him as his third climax hit, a deep, full-body shudder that left him completely paralyzed. you handled him roughly through the entire peak, forcing every last drop out of his trembling length before your hand finally came to a heavy rest over his slick skin. 

jaafar stared blankly at the ceiling, his chest heaving in broken, shallow hitches. his skin was burning to the touch, drenched in sweat, his eyes glazed as tremors continued to move through him.

slowly, you shifted off his thighs and knelt by his head. the sharp edge from before was gone now, replaced by a heavy exhaustion.

“hey,” you murmured softly, brushing a damp curl away from his forehead.

a low, breathy hum came from his throat. he turned his head, blinking up at you through a lingering haze.

your fingers reached up to the headboard, patiently working at the tight knots. the second the tie fell loose, jaafar let out a long, shaky sigh.

he lowered his arms with a quiet wince, faint red marks circling his wrists.

he reached for you, his large, warm hand reached up, gently cradling the back of your neck to draw you down.

you collapsed against his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close.

“god, baby...” he whispered against your hair, his voice rough and quiet.

a tired laugh escaped him, the sound vibrating softly through his chest. “i think you actually broke me.”

you let out a soft laugh, peppering slow, soft kisses all over his cheek and jaw.

“sorry.”

the words might have sounded more convincing if you weren't smiling. “yeah, keep smiling,” he said, the threat completely ruined by how exhausted he sounded.

“just wait until i can use my hands again.”

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this was wayyyyy longer than i wanted it to be