Some Bullshit

and for months, you had been left with nothing but long-distance phone calls. 

you had lost count of how many nights you spent curled up in bed with the receiver pressed tightly against your ear, listening to his soft, rhythmic breathing long after the conversation had run out of words.

you missed him with a desperation that physically ached – and unfortunately, he had found out exactly how much a few nights ago.

it had happened sometime after midnight.

you were exhausted, half-asleep, and michael had been teasing you in that low, sleepy murmur of his.

before your defenses could catch up, you had admitted it.

you confessed that you’d tried getting yourself off while he was away, but it never worked.

it didn't feel the way his hands did.

without him there, you couldn't get yourself over the edge, and every single attempt while he was away had left you burning and frustrated.

michael let out a soft, breathless laugh.

"yeah?" he had murmured, his voice dropping lower, sending a shiver straight down your spine. "poor thing..." his voice softened. "i miss you so much. i hate bein' away from you."

you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again.

“tell you what… i’ll just have to teach you when i get home.”

by the time the call ended, the tone for his return had been set.

which was exactly how you ended up here.

you were sitting on the floor right between his legs, positioned directly in front of the full-length mirror across from his bed. your shorts and panties were gone, leaving you completely exposed to the reflective glass.

your back rested flush against his chest while his long legs stretched around either side of you, keeping your thighs spread wide so you couldn't close them if you tried. one of his arms was looped loosely around your waist, keeping you tucked securely against the heavy, throbbing hardness straining against his pants. 

with only a skimpy pink tank top on, michael had you blushing and writhing in front of the mirror without even laying a finger on you yet. 

you felt so exposed, so vulnerable, your chest rising and falling rapidly under the thin cotton of your top.

"mm, look at you." he caught his lower lip between his teeth, shaking his head slightly. "so pretty f’me," he murmured, his head tilted down so he could speak right against your ear.

heat rushed to your face. you turned your head away from the mirror, burying the side of your face against his chest instead.

you couldn't bear to look at your own reflection while michael sat behind you, whispering things like that into your ear. 

"c'mon, be a good girl 'n look for me." one of the hands around your waist slid up your chest to grab ahold of your chin, turning it gently to bring your eyes back to the mirror. his other hand tickled at the skin below your navel, sending waves of goosebumps.

"'s embarrassing," you whined, your gaze drifting down to the plush carpet below you.

michael pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your hair. "no 's not, sweet girl. 's to help teach you." his fingers trailed lower, the heat of his palm brushing your bare thighs.

"that's all y'gotta do. just watch."

in the reflection of the glass, your eyes were drawn to the sight of his hand against your body.

michael’s hands alone stirred something inside of you.

the sheer size of them made your stomach flip with a heavy, restless ache. his palms were broad, and his fingers were long and slender.

as his hand hovered over your center, you could see the faint lines of his knuckles and the subtle swell of the veins tracing down the back of his hand.

they were large enough to completely span your hip, yet precise enough to know exactly how to ruin you.

the hand against your stomach slid a little lower, teasing just above your clit. "'m not always gonna be here to do it for you."

you knew that. you knew that michael wouldn't always be around to take care of you like this. not with the second leg of the tour right around the corner. 

so, you let your eyes skim over the floor, slowly inching up the glass of the mirror.

"that's my girl," he whispered, his voice soft against your ear. "if you take your eyes off yourself... i'll stop."

you were both aching with anticipation.

every nerve in your body felt wound tight. the promise hanging between you, the warmth of his body at your back, the sound of his voice against your ear – it all left you so worked up.

you wanted him to finger you the way you needed until you were cumming around his fingers. 

you needed that release from him so badly. 

and michael was desperate to have you squirming in his grasp, choking out moans for him as you gushed all over his fingers.

his fingers brushed over your clit softly, circling it slowly.

he could hear your breath hitch, your much smaller hands coming to the forearm that still had a hold on your chin.

you were so sensitive, all fidgety in front of him, your body growing even hotter at his touch.

"mikey–" you spoke no louder than a whisper, just enough for him to hear you.

he let his hand slip from your chin, his fingers sliding smoothly down to the bottom hem of your pink top, his palm cupping the soft underside of your right breast. you jerked a little at the sensation, your nipple instantly hardening under his palm.

"this okay, sweet girl?" he murmured. his low voice brushing so close that you can feel the slight curve of a smirk against your ear.

you nodded quickly, your chest heaving as you bit your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a desperate whine.

but with his hand off your chin, your head dropped forward, your eyes instantly darting downward to watch his other hand hovering over your thighs.

"head, baby," he said softly, his tone was gentle but left no room for argument.

you lifted your head, your cheek brushing against his jaw as you rested back on his shoulder. his hair tickled your cheek as you settled against him.

in the reflection, you watched his fingers slide down past your navel, dipping right into the slick arousal gathered between your thighs.

"look how wet you are,” he chuckled, sliding the tips of his fingers through your heat, spreading the slick moisture. his bottom lip caught briefly between his teeth before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "this all for me?”

his words made your face and neck grow warm, crinkling your nose, your legs attempting to close. but his own legs were in the way, keeping them pinned wide open.

"michael, this is humiliating," you muttered, pressing yourself farther back against his chest like you were trying to escape.

you weren’t.

and you knew that.

you were too riled up.

too desperate for him to fill you.

"take a lick, sweetheart," he teased, bringing his hand away from your heat and up to your face.

you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, your eyes flicking toward his hand for just a second. in the dim light, you could see the creamy, glistening slick coating his fingertips. 

when you finally forced your eyes upward to meet his in the mirror, your eyes were wide and dazed.

"be a good girl 'n get my fingers nice 'n wet for you," he mumbled, a tender smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with heavy, dark eyes.

wrapping both of your hands around his wrist, you guided his fingers toward your mouth. your tongue brushed against them before you drew them in, tasting the faint trace of yourself still lingering on his skin.

you let them rest there for a moment, coating them with your saliva while his gaze stayed fixed on you. when he finally told you to open your mouth, you obeyed without hesitation. he carefully pulled his fingers free, a thin strand of saliva stretched between them and your tongue before finally breaking. 

the spit dripped off his fingers, trailing down your stomach before his hand found its way back between your thighs. his fingertips were still warm from your mouth, damp as they brushed teasingly against your entrance.

michael felt your pussy flutter against his fingertips.

"god, baby–" he muttered, beginning to tease his middle finger inside, "look at that."

"see how pretty she is? squeezin' me like that?"

your hands returned to his forearm, digging your blunt nails into the skin as his hand palmed heavily at your breast.

"please, please," you mewled, your breath catching sharply in your throat as the slick tips of his fingers parted your entrance. 

your voice was all shaky as he nudged his way inside. he eased in just a little more, letting you feel the stretch until he was two full knuckles deep. 

you were so tight around him, your walls clamping down on his fingers like a vice. every shift of his hand sent a jolt straight through you, causing your body to pulse helplessly around his fingers. 

"shit, 'can feel you, sweetheart," he gasped out, his breath stuttering against your ear. 

once he slid his finger all the way to the hilt, he kept his hand still for a moment, letting your body adjust to the thick stretch of him. 

with agonizingly gentle precision, he hooked his finger upward, curling it slightly against your gummy walls and pressing it right against your sweet spot. 

the sudden pressure hit you like a wave, making you let out a high, broken whimper as your head shook back and forth against his shoulder. 

"michael," you whimpered, your legs beginning to tremble where they were hooked over his own.

it was pathetic.

he was only a finger deep inside you, yet you were falling apart, crumbling into a shaking mess right in his arms.

the hand cupping your breast glided upwards, his fingers grazing lightly over your raised nipple right through the thin fabric of your top.

the hit of pleasure sent your head falling back against his collarbone. your back arched off the floor into his touch, your ass grinding back ruthlessly against the rigid length of his hard cock.

"need more, please," you begged with a breathy moan.

any lingering thought of watching the mirror or trying to memorize his movements for later completely evaporated from your mind.

it didn’t matter anymore.

you knew that never, ever, would you be able to replicate the pleasure he was making you feel right now.

he slowly drew his finger out of you, making you cry out from the friction, before sliding it right back in easily.

you were sucking him back in, begging for more.

he started with languid pumps of a single finger, murmuring dirty, breathless praises against your ear as you trembled and shook in his arms. 

a delicious heat coiled in your stomach at an intensity you’d never felt before.

every moment had you wound up so tight. he had you on such an edge that you truly thought you would explode.

and as he pulled back out once more, he returned with another finger.

"oh my god." you gasped, your legs clamping tightly around his own.

michael could feel your stomach tense up as he filled you even more. he could feel your breathing grow ragged and the volume of your cries become careless.

every push of his knuckles against you was sloppy and loud. you were gushing around him, slick running down his long fingers to coat his knuckles and wrist.

"makin' such a mess," he teased. "you’re close, aren’t you, sweet thing?" his lips brushed against the damp skin of your neck, his breath warm against you.

"michael! i–i’m–" your mouth fell open as your legs kicked helplessly over his thighs.

his fingers pressed deeper, curling into a spot that made you gasp out a frantic, “y-yeah–”

he adjusted his angle, pressing harder into your sweet spot until it drew a sudden burst of wetness right out of you. your walls clamped down around his fingers, his cock pulsing against you in response. he kept working that exact spot, pumping another burst out of you as he groaned against your neck.

"right there?" he murmured. "right there makes you squirt? i know it feels good right there, baby." he didn't let up, his voice soft against your ear as your thighs shook.

"uh huh...yeah?" he coaxed. "yeah, that's it. cum f’me," he murmured.

the hand on your breast slid higher beneath the hem of your top to grab your chin, gently turning your face toward him.

before you could think, he was kissing you, deep and sloppy, swallowing every sound that escaped you.

it was overwhelming.

the coil inside you finally gave way, crashing through you all at once as you gushed all over his fingers and hand.

the sudden rush of fluid soaked his fingers and stained the carpet beneath you. you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you. your body spasmed in his arms, your ass grinding up against him helplessly as he rode through his own orgasm.

just from watching you, watching how your pretty little pussy squeezed his fingers and leaked all over his hand, michael let out a deep, strangled groan into the kiss. his body locked up behind yours as he came in thick, hot spurts, soaking through his underwear as his own climax hit him.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

his hands r just ugh

You and him have been friends for a good few years now, having met him just a little before his 'Off The Wall' album release. Accidentally bumping into the then-twenty year-old-star in a record store of all places, a few apologies were exchanged before your eyes noticed the Donna Summer album in his hands. That led to further conversations ranging from talking about how good Donna Summer's latest single is, to Michael showing you the Bee Gees album he's planning on purchasing, and somehow ends with you playing a record of Blondie's on the store turntable to make him listen to the B-sides.

It was a whole hour and a half before a burly looking gentleman kindly reminded Michael he had other affairs to tend to, and after eagerly sharing each other’s contact details, you got home urgently to listen to the newly bought records of Jackson Five. 

From then on, you've been calling and exchanging letters with Michael non-stop. Postcards from the different states he’s touring in, long distance telephone calls when his shows end, and everything in between. He finds a way to contact you so often that when his mother knew of you, she asked you to come over for one of their family gatherings. That's likely when it's been established that you and Mike are pretty much best friends. 

You were lucky enough to witness Michael at his most focused when he was working on final touches to Off The Wall, changing musical tunes during late nights in the studio. Memories of celebrating with him when said album won the Grammys, as well as the AMAs. There’d even been numerous times where you got to come to his shows during the Triumph Tour with his brothers. It’s been well over four years since you met, and at this point he’s the only person to truly know you inside and out.

A quick snap out of your thoughts when the bathroom lights turn off, and Michael steps out as he dries his curls with a towel. He’s been out the whole day doing… whatever it is pop stars do during their spare time, only reaching home about half an hour after you already made yourself a cup of tea to heal from a long day at the diner. You don’t even know how it got to the point where you can just waltz into Michael’s home without him even being there, but it’s better not to question much about it. 

Michael walks around the bedroom, shifting things as he gets ready for bed. Glancing at you, his eyes soften. "Tired, baby?" He asks gently. 

"Mhm," you hum in response, sinking further into the blankets. "Had the worst customers today. I don't even care about the no tipping, y’know? The thing that’s bugging me is why the hell were they drinking fifteen shots of espresso at 9.30PM? And God... One of them had a rat-tail, Mike. I sure hope it doesn't become a thing because it's just so unfortunate to witness." 

A soft chuckle escapes him, warming your heart. You continue ranting, “Mike, that one mean woman who comes for coffee every lunchtime? She got to the diner late, and then proceeded to blame me for making her late because by the time her food arrived, her break was almost ending. Can you even believe that?” 

Michael clicks his tongue, getting on the bed. Making himself comfortable, he pulls you in and wraps his arm around your back, your head laying atop his chest. "I told you to please just stop working there. I can take care of you, baby. You know that. We'd be just fine and you can do whatever it is you want." 

Shaking your head vehemently, you nudge at his chest. "No way, Mike. I can handle myself. I'm a responsible adult. I'm a strong, independent woman, y'know?" 

"I know you are, beautiful. I'm just tellin' you that I can help while you look for somethin' you'd actually enjoy. Not that horrible diner place. You deserve so much better," Michael says as he leaves soft kisses on your temple. 

You melt at his touch and close your eyes. Murmuring, "Thank you, Mikey. It's just hard leaving Daisy all by herself. The others are so mean to that poor kid." 

"Hell, I'll hire her for somethin' if it means you're out of that damn place," Michael grumbles as he shifts and pulls you closer. 

Snickering quietly, you hush him before kissing his jaw, "That's enough out of you, hm?” 

“I'm serious, sweetheart. That job is stretching you thin, and I'm not liking any second of it. I'm just worried about you,” Michael looks at you with furrowed brows, thumb stroking your cheek. 

Michael has never not worried about you, you think. The man has protective tendencies towards everyone he cares for, but it's been noted by many that whenever you're in the picture, it's as if it gets dialed up to the maximum level. One of the most insane things he's done so far was that he had three extra secure locks installed at your front door when you first moved into your apartment, and despite it being against the rules, the landlord couldn't really argue with the Michael Jackson over his loved one's safety. 

You respond quietly, “I know, Michael. Don't worry too much. I got everything handled, okay? I'm looking for job openings as we speak.” 

“If you'd just consider the fact that I know many people in all kinds of businesses, baby–” 

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Uh-uh, I'm not doing this again. Mikey, I don't want to take advantage of you for this. I'm doing this myself because that's the right thing to do.” 

“It's not taking advantage, it's called networking,” Michael sighs. 

Shaking your head again, you shift to make yourself more comfortable against his chest. “No helping, Michael. Not unless I'm absolutely desperate. Which I'm not… yet.” 

He sighs again, silent for a moment before kissing your head. “Fine. But I'm tellin' you right now. The minute you want to quit, go on ahead and don't hesitate. You got me, you know that right?” 

“Yes, I do.” A small smile forms on your face, eyes closing slowly. “Goodnight, Mike.” 

"Goodnight, baby," he wishes, shifting down slightly as he gives a peck on your lips before burying his head into your neck. Murmuring softly, “Love you.”  

“Love you,” you reply, already out of it. The room’s silence filled with only the sounds of you and him breathing in sync, and the TV playing the end credits of Roman Holiday. 

Despite the quiet, your mind races. 

Okay. You're aware of how it seems between the both of you. It’s been mentioned by a few who witness your dynamic and you’re aware of how weird and frankly, even disturbing for friends to be this close. Cuddling is one thing, but kissing on the lips and saying ‘I love you’s are on a totally different level. It doesn't really occur to you when that has evolved. As far as you're concerned, he just started calling you sweet names one day and became more physically needy than usual. 

It happened around after he returned from his tour in Europe, so you figured they really weren't joking about how Europeans are more touchy. Well, that's what the travel magazines say anyway. 

With that, you leave it be. In retrospect, you're never one to turn down any physical affection from Michael. And deep down you know it gives you butterflies, but you remind yourself daily to just ignore it.

So you do. Remind yourself, that is. Without fail. 

It gets a lot more difficult each day, if you're being honest with yourself. On some days, it feels almost impossible. Especially when he gets so touchy and soft. Holding your waist as he talks to his brothers. Firmly holding your hand when he walks down the studio hallways. Even during the little days when he has free time and instead of doing something more worthwhile with someone more important, he'd persuade you to come stay at his house and play all kinds of board games.

You beat him at Connect Four every time, by the way. 

Once having realized the risk of this becoming a huge problem if you don't handle the… pool of feelings swirling in your gut… and how it would lead to everything crumbling down, you knew you had to do something.

That's why, after much pressure from your boss, Janine, you're going on a blind date with her nephew. 

“He'll be just the perfect man for you, doll,” she said to you so excitedly. In fact, so excitedly that you couldn't really turn her down. It's set for the day after tomorrow, and you still haven't told Michael.

Make it work first, see the guy first. See how things go before saying anything to Mike. That's your plan. It'd be a waste of time if the date didn't work out and you got Michael's hopes up regarding your love life for no reason at all.

How on Earth would you even start? Michael knows you're not exactly the type of person to go on just any blind date. He'd ask. And what could you answer? That you're falling in love with him more every single day that passes? That you're only doing this to get over it? 

Absolutely not.

•

Mornings with Michael are always the epitome of domesticity at its finest. Both of you are hanging around the kitchen. Michael is sitting at the kitchen island, with only intentions of accompanying you, who's currently craving a bowl of freshly sliced fruit. 

“Hey, baby? I'm gonna be home late again. Q called and said somethin’ about some adjustments the album needs. You got anything planned for today?” Michael asks, eyes focusing on his book of notes. Hand gripping on a pencil, eager to underline or scratch words about whatever it is he's working on. He writes down any important pieces from meetings, or anything that comes to mind about a lyric or a tune. You call it his ‘book of wonders’, and Michael laughs it off with a shy blush every time. 

“What more adjustments does it need? I think the album is already perfect!” You scoff. 

Michael laughs quietly and shrugs, “I think he's gonna cut another song from the final tracklist. Been drivin’ me crazy with that.”

Pointing at him briefly, you press your words firmly. “Don't let him cut Billie Jean, Mike. I swear to God.” 

“I promise I won't. Not Billie Jean,” Michael snorts, “Anyway baby, your plans? For today?” 

You hum absentmindedly, too distracted with cutting up some apple slices for your fruit bowl. “I’m going out later. Thinking about doing some shopping.” You're off work today and tomorrow, so there's plenty of time to get ready and make yourself beautiful for the stranger you're about to go on a date with. 

God, everything is so silly.

“Ooh, somethin’ special going on? You never shop for yourself spontaneously. I always have to beg for you to do that,” Michael asks, getting up from his seat and walking up to you. Hands snaking around your waist, chin resting on top of your shoulder as he takes a gander on the bowl of fruit snacks you're making for yourself. 

“Looks like heaven, doesn't it?” You ask with a teasing grin, gesturing towards the bowl. 

“No, angel. You do,” he replies with a kiss on your temple. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Oh, that. Well…” You shrug, “Maybe, maybe not. We'll have to wait a bit and then you'll get your story, hm?” 

“Hmm… Okay, I'll bite. I'll be waitin’ for some kind of update soon, okay?” 

“I promise,” you say. 

Michael nods with a smile, tilting down and softly presses his lips against yours. Your heart lurches as you hesitantly kiss him back. Not two seconds later though, he pulls away with a grin when a knock comes onto the door. “That's Bill. Hold on, baby.” 

As he walks away, you take a minute to gather yourself. Breathing deeply, you groan at the delusional path your heart was heading down. What was that kiss? Jeez, Europe really did a number on him. 

Turning back to the bowl of fruit, you rethink how good of an idea it is to actually go on this damn blind date. 

•

“I’m telling you, Daisy, what if this is a bad idea?” You hiss in desperation into the telephone. 

You’re back in your own apartment, surrounded by messy piles of clothing. It’s almost 10PM and the thing is, what you should be doing is some facial care before the date tomorrow, but instead you’re currently freaking out on Daisy. You were supposed to be back at Michael’s. But then. During your retail run, you belatedly realized it’s almost impossible to sleep at Michael’s the night before your blind date.

One, he would try to heckle his way into knowing what you’re going to be up to. 

Two, you would immediately give in to him and tell him everything. 

Three, after all of that, he’d question your sudden urge to date.

And finally, you’d have to tell him you’re doing it to get over your stupid feelings for him. 

Ruining your friendship with Michael would have to be the worst thing that you could do to your life. 

So that’s how you end up back in your own space, though the comfort you felt at Michael’s is sorely missed. Picking up a nearby sweater, you throw it across the room to the ‘No’ pile. “What if the date turns out really well but it’s just my subconscious self making it work to forget about Mike? That wouldn’t be fair to Janine’s nephew.”

“Okay, first of all, if your subconscious self is making it work, that’s a good thing. At least some part of you have an effort to try. Second, it’ll be exactly perfect if you got over Michael. I mean… c’mon, you’ve been friends for years. If he hasn’t made his move by now, then he never will.”

‘Well yeah, but if I told you he kisses me almost every day, you’d probably be saying something different,’ the thought runs through your head silently. Blinking away your delusions, you sigh, “What if Janine’s nephew thinks I’m too breezy?”

Daisy laughs, “Girl, you’re not as breezy as you think you are. And even so, breezy is in now. You’d be having him drooling all over ya’.” 

A brief pause. 

“You keep saying ‘Janine’s nephew’,” Daisy says, “Girl, do you even know what his name is?”

Shameful heat blushes your neck, grimacing silently, mind running to remember. 

“Uhm… Kevin… what’s-his-name?”

Shrieking laughter from the other side of the telephone makes you flinch in shock. You’re telling her off, whining as Daisy repeats to herself the word Kevin. “It’s Calvin, girl,” she corrects you, chortling unabashedly. “Calvin Johnson, Janine’s sister’s son. Remember that before you embarrass yourself tomorrow night.”

“But Daisy! What if it’s a bad idea?”

“Listen to me. Calvin is also being set up, right? He’s probably just as nervous as you are. And he doesn’t know you yet. If you somehow don’t hit it off, which I seriously doubt because, well, don’t tell Janine this, but she’s a killer matchmaker, I mean, hello? Douglas from the kitchen and Jake from the laundromat across the street? Who the heck expects that? Anyway, if you somehow don’t hit it off, he won’t be hurtin’ and cryin’ in the ditch somewhere. He’s fine, and so are you. Just do this.”

You bite your lip, “Daisy…”

She immediately cuts you off. “The main reason why you’re still apprehensive is because you want to know what Michael thinks. And he probably would not give you the input you secretly want. I love you, really I do, but it’s time to acknowledge the fact that nothing seems to be blossoming there. You deserve the world, babe... You can go try and gettin’ it yourself instead of waitin’ around for someone to give it to you.”

Listening to her gentle voice, you fiddle with the string of pearls on your corner table. Sitting back on the couch, looking at the mess in front of you while the words she says slowly take root in your mind. Daisy is right. You’ve spent years trying to hollow out your feelings, ignoring whatever is growing inside the crevices of your heartstrings whenever you look at Michael, forgetting those sneaky thoughts of what it would be like to have him as your boyfriend, husband, the lover of your life. All of that, you’ve been pushing down so deep, and the fact that Michael is so openly and brazenly affectionate with you starts to feel a little insulting. Here you are, absolutely spiraling from every single touch shared, and yet, for him it’s just another friendly peck. Everything he does means the whole world to you, but why doesn’t it seem to mean much to him?

You’re aware you’re being unfair. Michael doesn’t owe you anything. All he asks from you is a loyal companionship, be it in a platonic way. He never expressed intentions of something more, at least not officially. It’s your own fault for developing feelings. You can’t be mad at him.

You can never be mad at Michael. Not when all he’s done for you is provide love and unconditional support. 

After a few more minutes of slow conversation with Daisy, you tell your goodbyes after reassuring her you won’t back out on the blind date. Heaving a deep sigh, you get up from the couch and start cleaning up your mess. Already deciding on what to wear for tomorrow night, you’re determined to never have to look at a piece of stray clothing ever again because it will absolutely slay you if you did. You haven’t been this fashion anxious since forever ago. Having Michael as a friend has its perks, and one of them is receiving endless fashion tips; that actually works for you. 

And obviously, Michael should be no such help for this particular instance. 

The landline rings and you pick it up, half assuming it’s Daisy to convince you to not back out again. The girl has such little faith in you, you scoff. 

“Daisy, I promise—”

“It’s Michael.”

Your eyes widen briefly before a soft laugh escapes you, “Oh, hey, Mike.”

“Where are you?” he asks, voice sounding a little stiff. Momentarily freezing, your head tilts in confusion over his tone.

“I’m at home, why?”

“No, you’re not. I know this because I’m calling from home. I thought you’re staying here tonight?” Michael asks.

“Oh, I thought you’re supposed to come home late tonight?” You ask him. 

Michael replies with the same stiff tone, “I got out early, Q just wanted to get rid of Billie Jean and I chewed him off and got out of there before he could jump me. Baby, you’re not home. Why?”

“I meant I’m at my home, Mike. And because I figured I had to stay here at least for tonight, the space is literally about to gather dust.”

“That’s never stopped you before?” he argues.

Letting out a nervous laugh, you say, “Mike, maybe it’s because I don’t want you to get sick of me—”

“That’s a bunch of bull, sweetheart. C’mon, what’s happenin’? Please, baby, tell me,” Michael pleads, voice almost upset. “You’re supposed to be here with me. I want you here.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sensing the upcoming begging and persuading coming from him. Firmly reminding yourself that no matter what pretty words he says, you’re putting your foot down and not surrendering to him. Regardless how tempting it is.

How insanely tempting.

“I’m sorry, Mike. It’s just so late already, you know?” You try to deflect. 

“Who said anything about you drivin’? I’ll get Bill to drive you, I’ll call him right now—”

“Wait, Mike, don't!" You exclaim. “Poor Bill needs his rest. And so do you. Mike, we can sleep apart for one night.”

“We can but I’d rather not, baby…” he replies, almost completely quiet. “Is something the matter? You usually tell me when you’re not coming over.”

Slapping your palm to your forehead, you let out a soft gasp. “Of course! Oh, Mike, I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I was too distracted from the– from today! I’m sorry, honey, I should have given you some kind of note.”

Michael hums, “That’s okay… Just… Don’t you want to come over?” 

Hearing his desperate tone, you almost stood up to grab your keys right then and there. Fighting against the strong urge, you sigh out and try to ignore the heavy guilt inside, “Mike, I’d love to but it’s late. Please rest. I promise I’ll see you the day after tomorrow okay?”

“Woah, hang on, why not just tomorrow?”

A tugging of your bottom lip, you think of what to say. You genuinely can’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. You don’t want to risk it. Not if he’s going to interrogate you until you confess your undying love for him. Gosh, your head feels as if it’s about to explode.

“Because I’m gonna be doing something tomorrow. Remember the little update?”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? Or tomorrow night?” Michael almost pleads. 

“Mike, please don’t make this harder for me,” you tell him, whining. “I promise, promise, promise I’ll tell you the day after tomorrow. Please?”

A beat of silence. 

“I can’t…” he starts so timidly.

You hum in question, “You can’t what, Mike?”

A clearing of his throat before he replies, voice firmer, “Nothing. Okay, baby. I’ll wait until the day after tomorrow to see you, but I’m callin’ you tomorrow midnight. I need to hear your voice and I need to know you’re at home safe.”

“Okay, Michael. That’s very sweet of you.”

He only hums in response. Furrowing your brows, you ask him. “Mike, are you alright?”

“I just miss you so much, baby,” he replies after a short second. He says it so earnestly, your cheeks warm up. 

“We just saw each other this morning,” you softly remind him with a laugh.

“I don’t care.”

You smile softly, finger coiling with the landline wire. “I miss you too, Mikey. I’ll see you, okay?”

“Don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t!”

“You better not… Go to sleep. Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mike. Goodnight.”

Hanging up, you let out the deepest sigh you could muster. Plopping your head on the back of the couch and staring off into space, you wonder why Michael is taking it so hard about you sleeping in your own apartment. 

•

Taking a sip from your wine glass, you smile politely as Kev– Calvin tells his story. Sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant is honestly not what you expected, but when he stood in front of your doorstep dressed in a black suit and tie, that would have been your first hint. You’re immediately relieved about choosing the dark, sleek dress that was purchased spontaneously the day before. 

“And then my boss just went off on him, I did nothin’ but walk away, it was so bad,” he laughs. Calvin Johnson has a really cute laugh. He was pretty, too, you think. His hazel eyes gleam brightly and he knows how to land a joke. He orders good food and good wine. His voice is pleasant and deep. He dresses nice. 

But… nothing. You feel absolutely nothing.

Here you are, dinner with the perfect gentleman who knows to compliment, and you’re feeling absolutely nothing. Your mind is just filled with thoughts of what Michael would have done if he saw the waiter passing by with mismatched neon socks, or what Michael would have ordered if the menu only consisted of fourteen different types of spaghetti, if he would have vomited and just starved altogether, or what Michael would have said to you when you pointed out the painting of the restaurant’s owner at the entrance that resembled Gene Kelly. Michael, Michael, Michael. It’s like he’s taken over your life the more you try to forget about your feelings. 

You’re immediately being consumed by guilt at the thought of hurting Janine and her nephew. They are both really nice and warm people, and you’re returning the favour by playing games. Michael would have been so disappointed. He probably would enjoy talking to Calvin. Maybe if it doesn’t work between you and Calvin, and you’re being real honest here, it definitely won’t, you could introduce him to Michael. They already have the musically talented section in common. Only Calvin was more towards classical instruments. Well, maybe they could read music sheets together. 

Biting your lip, you realize you’re only thinking of things that include Michael to help you go through this date. And that only makes you feel worse. You’re a terrible person. 

“ — Hey, are you okay?”

You slightly jump, wide eyes gazing back at Calvin’s concerned ones. “O-oh, yeah, yes! I am okay, I’m so sorry. I’m just so… full, I get a little breezy when I’m, uh, full.”

Just pulling shit straight out of your ass. 

He nods in acknowledgement, giving a small smile before he continues his story about… kangaroos or underoos. Either one. 

You couldn’t really focus on the rest of his story, not that you did in the first place, but this time the focus was actually elsewhere instead of inside your own head. Your eyes flicker to a few tables behind Calvin, and the familiar face catches you off guard. Slightly squinting, you try to make out who the person is, before pausing your breath. It’s one of Michael’s bodyguards, you think. He’s newly appointed, but he seems nice. He has ginger hair and a small tattoo behind his ear, that’s how you know it’s him. Tilting your head further to the side, you try to recognize the rest of the table he’s sitting at. Nerves racking, you hope with everything you have that Michael isn’t there with them. But after seeing the whole table only has burly men laughing aloud, you realize they’re just on their break. Michael gives them his card sometimes and tells them to get fancy dinners. This must be one of those nights where he wants to be completely and utterly alone. Your heart drops. Could something be bothering him? He was definitely off from the phone call last night. 

Your eyes suddenly make contact with one of the guards, who looks just as dumbfounded as you are. It was the world’s worst staring eye contest before you clear your throat. Averting your gaze, you force a smile as Calvin cluelessly continues his story. 

That redhead is so gonna rat you out. 

•

Returning home couldn’t be any more relieving than it is now. You’re leaning against the front door after closing it, sighing heavily. Thinking of moments prior. 

“Hey, listen… I had a wonderful time tonight. And I think you did, too. But just as friends, huh?” Calvin asks as he walks you to your doorstep. You only look at him with your mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say. 

He laughs, shrugging, “I only agreed because of Aunt Janine. And I’m assuming you did too. That woman doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, that’s for sure.”

“She sure doesn't,” you softly chuckle. 

Calvin rubs his nape, looking at you with an almost sympathetic grin. “And uh… don't take this the wrong way, but I sincerely hope you don't go on another date with a stranger.” 

Trying to hide your offended face, you ask him. “Why do you say that?” 

“Because this whole night, I was just talkin’ your ears off but your mind is in a completely different place. I mean, I was talking rubbish towards the end, with the kangaroos and all. Not even a peep from you, because you're busy thinking…” he trails off, displaying a pitying look as you nervously fiddle with your fingers, looking away. 

“... Of someone else, hm?” 

You don't respond, but you settle for a small smile. “You're too understanding.” 

Calvin sighs deeply, “I know.” He says in a melancholic tone. 

Laughing with him, you sigh and step closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Calvin. I'm so sorry this didn't work out. I'm sorry for not trying.” 

“Eh, forget it,” he reassures you. “Honest. We wouldn't work anyway, I actually liked those risottos.” 

“They were disgusting,” you tease back. Hugging Calvin a very short second, you let him off with a goodbye. 

Which brings you to now, sighing like the world's biggest loser. You hated letting people down. It feels like you're hurting them on purpose, but it truly isn't your intention. You thought you'd get over your feelings for Michael at least a little. 

Instead, the thing you want to do most right now is cuddle up against him. 

You're thinking of the possible phrases on what your excuse could be if Michael asks what you've been up to today, not taking any chances that he wouldn't heckle. It's been a good two minutes since Calvin left your doorstep, and the date is being fast forgotten.

More so when a sudden knock comes down on your front door. You instantly know it's not Calvin. This one felt too comfortable, familiar…. Intimate.

You must be imagining things. 

Walking back to the door, you take a look at the peephole. And lo and behold, Michael's standing right at your doorstep. His face unreadable. 

As you open the door, you force a bright grin onto your face. “Michael, hey—” 

“Who's he?” Michael asks sharply. Almost robotic. His body tense, jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“Hm?” You hum in response, tilting your head in confusion. 

“The guy you were just with,” he quietly adds, walking into your apartment. 

You realize what he's talking about and let out an ‘Oh’. “That's Janine's nephew,” you answer. 

Michael just looks at you with a deep gaze. Murmuring hoarsely, he says to you, “C’mon, baby… don't play with me like this. Not right now.” 

“Michael, I'm telling the truth, that is Janine's nephew. His name's Calvin.” 

“Calvin…” he scoffs before turning around to pace back and forth in your living room. Meanwhile, you get more and more confused. 

“What, you went on a date with him or somethin’?” Michael asks you shakily.

Well, the cat's definitely out of the bag, but Michael's reaction is not one you're expecting in any way, shape or form. 

“Y-yes, I did… Come on Mikey, what's going on?” 

He gives you the most incredulous look he's ever given anyone. “What's going on? Are you actually asking me that? What's… What's wrong with you?” 

Hurt strikes through your chest at his words. Michael has never, ever been rude or said anything harsh like that towards anyone, least of all you.

Why is he talking like that to you? And why does it hurt so much with the way he's being so… different?

“What did I do, Mike?” You ask in a small voice, hugging yourself nervously.

“Oh no, no, no, you don't get to be upset, I'm upset,” he says with glassy eyes staring back at you. You almost gasp at the sight, his hurting can be seen as clear as day. Michael continues, “You were on a date with a rando? What, did you think I wasn't gonna find out? And you're so– so casual about it, do you even care at all?” 

“Mike, what's… It's one date, Michael, what could be the issue? Please tell me why you're so bothered!” 

“Why the hell do you think I'm bothered?” 

“I don't know! It's just one date and you're not even my boyfriend, so tell me, Mikey, please.” 

Michael throws his arms in the air, “Oh, sure! Just one would be fi– wh-what? I'm sorry?” 

“What?” 

“What did you say?” 

“It's just one date!” 

“No,” Michael whispers, shaking his head. “After that… what did you mean by that?”

Tilting your head, you furrow your brows. “Mike?” 

He suddenly walks right up to you, hands slowly coming up to cradle your face. “I'm not… your boyfriend?” 

“ … No?” 

Michael's eyes flutter, pain being etched on every surface of his face. “Are you breakin’ up with me, baby?” 

“What?” You ask with a soft voice, eyes widening. “When did we get together?”

“What?” 

“What?” You repeat, starting to breathe really hard. Michael gives you an astounded look, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. His lips part in surprise, and it appears as if his brain is taking an extremely long time to register your words. 

“What do you mean when did we get together?” 

Close to crying, you whine softly, “Michael, I don't follow!” 

Michael clenches his jaw, eyes boring into yours as his brows furrow deeper. “Baby, this isn't funny.” 

“I'm not trying to be funny!” You reply. 

“Then what are you talking about? I am your boyfriend!”

“Since when?” You ask loudly, eyes getting wider by the second. 

His jaw only drops further in response, head shaking repeatedly. “She's joking,” he murmurs softly to himself. You deny it again, strongly needing to know what the hell is actually going on. 

“Well, baby,” Michael starts with a bewildered look on his face, “I happen to think we got together since I started callin’ you baby every day and how you're practically livin’ with me because I don't think I can actually sleep without you anymore, oh and I almost forgot, we're kissin’ damn near all the time!” 

You stand there, yet another dumbfounded look on your face. “I just thought you took home some European customs,” is the only thing you could say in a small voice. 

“What?” Michael asks again, another confused facial expression before he sighs and pulls you close. “Baby… you're telling me this whole time…?” 

You shake your head, hand coming up to softly stroke his jaw. “I didn't know anything. God, I'm so sorry, Mikey. I mean, I mean what am I supposed to think? You never asked me about it– you didn't clarify anything, did you?” 

“I thought in a way, you knew!” 

You ask softly, “How could I have known?” 

Michael looks away, arms still wrapped around you. “Okay… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for yelling because now I’m just rethinking everything… I was a stupid twenty year old. Remember how we kissed for the first time?” 

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory. Yes, you certainly did.

By then, both of you have been friends for about a few months. It was late at night, and you were sleeping over at his family house. It was just you two in front of the television, everyone else having already gone to bed. The time was nearing 1.30AM when the movie finally ended. 

“Mike, I told you we should have just rewatched Dog Day Afternoon.”

“How was I supposed to know it was gonna be that bad?” He snorts as he places the half eaten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. 

Laughing, you lean back on the couch and make yourself comfortable. Turning to him, you ask. “We went straight for the movie earlier, I never got to ask you how your day was.” 

Michael sighs and closes his eyes, making you frown in concern. Reaching out to softly grip his hand in between you two, you give a small smile.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

He shrugs, looking elsewhere. “I don't know, it's just…” 

“New album jitters?” You try, knowing how under the pressure he's been, with Off The Wall about to be released in a few days. If someone were to ask you how dedication was to be presented in real life, you'd point instantly to the man next to you. You've never seen someone so passionate about what they do as much as Michael is with his music. 

“... No, it's not that,” he laughs softly. “I mean, I'm nervous about that too, but tonight is different. It's just my brothers. They wouldn't stop ragging on me earlier.” 

Pulling your knees to your chest, you tilt your head. “Why? What's the matter?” 

“I had them listen to the final picks for the album, and they—” 

“If they didn't like it, that's their problem. The album is perfect!” You cut him off, already raging at the thought. You’ve always been his number one supporter and defender.

Michael laughs again, shaking his head. “No, no, they were real supportive about that… it's just the fact that I've uh, I've been singing about, y’know… romance and all.” 

You nod, and raise your brow when he doesn't continue. “And?” 

He sighs after what felt like forever, “Well it's silly... because I've never even had my first kiss yet, so.” 

“Michael, that's okay. Me neither.” 

Eyes widening, he sputters out, “You haven't?” 

“No,” you laugh. “Is that so unbelievable for you?” 

Yes, he happens to find it completely unbelievable because you're so gorgeous all the time. Boys were bound to try something on you. Now once he's realising nobody's ever come close, he feels a sense of happiness. Happy that nobody came close. That she rarely gives her time of day for anyone. And he happens to be one of the few exceptions. 

He only shrugs in response to your question before shifting closer. “Does it bother you?” 

Shaking your head, you smile at him. “Not really. I'm not dying to be kissed. I know it's gonna happen when it happens. There's no use dwelling on it. But then again, I don't have brothers, nor am I releasing songs about romance.” 

“Yeah, they really did their thing when I Can't Help It played,” Michael grumbles. 

Softly giggling, you grip onto his hand more firmly. “Don't let them get to you. You have so many girls that've been wanting to kiss you for years. Take your pick, Mike,” you tease. 

He only smiles and brings your intertwined hands to his lap. “I know, oddly enough. And I'm flattered that a lot of pretty girls like me. But I don't know them. I can't… I'm not like my brothers.” 

“I know you're not,” you whisper. “And that's okay. It's great, even.” 

“Yeah?” He says softly in response.

“Yeah.”

Michael bites his lip, thoughts running in his head. He’s thinking of something stupid… Something reckless. Something that can’t be undone if he does it. The silent hum of the room becomes overbearing to him, gaze focused on your soft eyes, down the slope of your nose to your lips. He lingers there, thinking to himself how it would feel like. What it would taste like. Would he still taste the remnants of your flavoured lip balm? Would it be soft and light? Or something else he can’t even imagine?

“Michael?” comes your quiet voice.

“Hm?” He’s out of it, almost. Dazed with some type of need. He doesn’t want to call it lust. He doesn’t think you deserve that. He feels more. The need to be with you. Sit beside you. Hold your hand. Kiss you. Everything he imagines to do with a girlfriend, is what he’s imagining with you. 

Good grief, since when did he start crushing on you?

“Michael, do you want to kiss me?”

His brain shuts down. His mouth, hands, and eyes don’t move. Mind blanking out.

After a few moments of silence, he manages to stutter out, “Wh- I’m sorry?”

Softly giggling, you shift your legs down and scoot closer to him. Hand still laced together with him, you look deep into his eyes. Gleaming with amusement, excitement and trepidation altogether. “Do you… Would you like to share our first kiss?”

He stares at you, jaw slack. “I thought it’ll… I thought it’ll happen for you when it happens.”

“Mhm,” you nod, “If you want to, it happens now. If you don’t want to, it will happen for me another time. I won’t be mad at you, Mike. I promise.”

You try to act cool, but the truth is your insides feel far from it. You don’t know what came over you, but from the way he was staring off into space, looking at your lips, the quiet surrounding you felt almost suffocating from the way you wanted him to lean in closer. To do something. Say something. So, you gathered your courage and took initiative. Even if there is no guarantee of him actually agreeing, you find yourself not regretting making your move. You wanted to know what a kiss feels like. And you wanted to know how it feels with Michael. You couldn't think of any better way to have your first kiss if not with him.

Michael is quiet for a few seconds, giving you some time to think of some lame segue out of this suddenly odd predicament you singlehandedly put you and him in. Before you could utter out an excuse, though, he cuts you off. 

“I’d really like that.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh?”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot, actually,” he whispers, leaning more towards you. “Are you sure you want this?”

You could only nod, breathing out a ‘yes’. 

Michael’s eyes flicker down to your lips, before gazing back into yours. Shifting closer, his head slightly dips down, you moving with him. Lips a hair’s breadth away from each other, his fingers coming up to gently hold your chin, closing the distance.

When your lips meet his, it feels like a quiet magic blossoming from your lungs and into every crevice of your heart. Eyes closed, you press yourself further against him. Sighing out, Michael tilts his head to the side, parting your lips with his and kissing you deeper.

He does taste your flavored lip balm. And he thinks that’s the happiest discovery of his life.

A close second to knowing now how it feels to kiss you. At first, when you suggested to him to share his first kiss with you, he thought you were joking. But when you joke, he’d know right off the bat. And he knows your tone. You weren’t joking one bit. His mind was racing through what felt like numerous mountains of anxiety and anticipation. In that second, there was nothing he’d like more than to kiss you. 

During the kiss, your hand comes up to stroke his cheek. A hum reverberates from him, sliding his tongue against yours, almost breathing into you. It’s a few more seconds of pure bliss before Michael slightly parts away, eyes still closed as he bites his lip. Closing the distance again, you leave some more pecks against the corner of his mouth, making him tilt his head and meet your lips with more passion and fervour. Smiling against the kiss, you melt into him as he holds you against him. 

It feels like a long time before one of you takes the initiative to pull away, properly this time. The room is quiet save for the sounds of your heavy breathing. A soft smile is etched onto your face as you eye his gleaming face. 

“Was that good?” You ask him, teasing. 

“That was good, babe,” he laughs, “That was real good. I liked that a lot.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you tell him, “I did too.”

“Can we do that more often?” he tries, leading to rounds of shy laughter to echo through the walls of the room. 

Snapping out of your memories, you clear your throat. “Yes, what about it?”

Michael reaches and cradles your face, “Well, that was quite literally… one of the best things to ever happen to me. I loved that night. I loved kissin’ you. I loved it so damn much, and I assumed– I assumed you loved it too. I didn’t say anythin’ about you bein’ my girl because I thought it was gonna naturally happen. And the longer I left it alone, and the more we got closer, I just... I thought we'd been together for a while. Nothing too official, because… I didn’t know where you stand on that, but I figured we’d only feel like this towards each other.”

You lean into the palm of his hand, and he leans down and presses a kiss against your temple, continuing gently, “I didn’t think we needed any establishing. I thought you already knew I’d… I’m so in love with you, baby. I fall in love with you more and more each day. But it’s my fault for, well, for not telling you properly. For assuming. I’m really sorry, I should have said something sooner.” His voice is bordering on sounding pained now, but you hush him.

“Mikey, gosh, stop, you’re fine. You’re perfect, don’t be sorry,” you whisper as you leave kisses on his forehead, down his nose and to the apples of his cheeks. “We’re both really stupid.”

He laughs and pulls you closer, if it’s even possible. “Tell me about it. Baby, I really am sorry. Please forgive me?”

“Shh, I forgive you, and I hope you’ll forgive me too. I’m sorry,” you say.

“There’s nothin’ to forgive. You didn’t know. See how funny that sounds now? God, I could just hit myself,” he sighs heavily. “Sweetheart, are we together officially now? I want you to be my girl. Been wantin’ that for years, if you must know.”

You teasingly grin and shrug, “I don’t know… Quite presumptuous of you, already calling me your girl.”

“Baby, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Michael smirks smugly, “It’s not wholly my fault for thinkin’ we’re together when you gaze at me the way you do.”

“I don’t gaze at you,” you gasp.

His arms snake around your waist again, pulling you closer and nodding dramatically. “Yes, you do and I can’t blame you, baby. I’d want to be my girl, too.” Swatting at his chest, you could only laugh in response.

“I’m serious, y’know? I’d like for you to be my girl. And just mine. No foolin’ around with this amateur stuff,” he says in a quiet tone, “I want you. You’re my best friend and I’ve never loved or wanted anyone as much as I do you. I want to marry you one day, I want everything a man can have with the love of his life, and I want that with you. There had never been and never will be anybody else. I love you, so much. Can you be my girl for real now?”

A soft hum escapes you, “Michael, I love you too. God, I love you so much.”

He doesn’t reply. Michael only leans in and catches your lips so, so urgently, it almost brings you down to your knees. It almost feels like your first kiss again. Except, this time Michael wasn’t afraid. Or doubting. He knows you want him just as much as he wants you. Heat grows from the way he pulls you closer, every inch of you burning from his touch and passion. His lips brushing against yours, tongue slipping in between to glide against yours. Softly nudging you backwards until you’re leaning against the wall, he tugs your bottom lip with his teeth before continuing to kiss you fervently. Your fingers come up to run through his curls, and he tilts your head upwards into the kiss. And that drives you crazy. 

Leaving small pecks against your lips before kissing down your neck, he murmurs against your skin, “I love you.”

You could only hum dazedly, weakening as he continues his ministrations on your skin. “I’m so glad you’ll have me, baby.” He continues to whisper.

A final kiss to your lips, he pulls away to softly grin at you. “Tell that Kevin schmuck to kindly get out of your life, please?”

“It’s Calvin, honey.”

however, it always seemed that michael could be wearing the most extravagant of looks and still finish getting ready in record time. but today, his outfit was fairly simple.

he wore a white button-up shirt with the first few buttons undone, a black suit jacket on top, and black suit pants to match. his outfit was so unadorned, yet you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked.

if it wasn’t his release party you were going to, you wouldn’t hesitate to jump on him and risk being late. but, you wanted to maintain professionalism and you knew michael wanted to look good in front of all his counterparts, so you kept your salacious thoughts to yourself. for now.

“baby, do y’know how much longer you’re gonna take?” your boyfriend questions you.

“i’m literally almost finished. all i have to do is put on my jewelry,” you respond, walking over to your dresser to locate your necklaces and bracelets.

it was the last thing you needed to complete your outfit. you wore a black off-the-shoulder trim dress that stopped near your ankles. it was complemented with black heels and black gloves that you knew you’d be taking off halfway through the night.

your jewelry was a combination of different pearls that michael had gifted you throughout the years. the off-white was the perfect contrast to your entirely black outfit. and the fact that your outfit was coordinated with michael’s was even better.

“okay,” you exclaimed, spinning around to face your boyfriend sitting on his bed, “i’m ready. what do you think?”

he says nothing at first. instead, opting to let his eyes trail up and down your figure. his eyes drank in every aspect of your outfit: the pearls, stiletto heels that he’ll be carrying by the end of the night, and the dress that hugged your body so perfectly.

still without saying a word, he gets up from his sitting position on the edge of the bed and walks closer to your standing form. the closer he gets to you, the more you start to become consumed by him.

he smelled oriental. warm, sweet, and the slightest bit spicy. and he towered over you, forcing you to crane your neck to look over him. he places both of his hands on the dresser behind you, getting impossibly closer to you.

“you’re gorgeous, my baby,” he murmured, even though you were the only two people in the room.

he moves one of the hands he has on the dresser behind you to your face, placing his hand on the side of your face. he looked at you with such adoration that you could melt where you stood and jump his bones all in one moment.

“thanks, mikey. you look good too.”

“just good?” he teases.

you look away from him, weakly pushing his chest in a frail attempt to get further away from him. the smallest of things he said made you shy, and you could tell your boyfriend basked in your reactions.

“we have to go before we’re late. and you were the one rushing me,” you acknowledged.

“i’d never rush you, baby. i know you like to take your time.”

you roll your eyes at the subtle dig at how long you take to get ready. “whatever. let’s go.”

he stops you before you’re able to slip past him and out of the bedroom. “can i have a kiss before we go?”

you smile at the fact that he still asks for a kiss despite the amount of time you’ve been together. you stand on your toes in an attempt to reach his height, and he meets you halfway as you press a chaste kiss to his lips. you weren’t too keen on ruining your lip gloss or getting lost in him at the moment.

you turn away from him, but you’re only able to make it a few steps before you feel his hands on your waist. he turns you around, immediately pulling you back into him. he kisses you again, but this time it’s an actual kiss.

his tongue invades your mouth and it’s like you can feel him everywhere. his hands are on your waist and his tongue is pressing against yours. you literally have to push him away from you to be able to breathe.

“you so pretty, baby.”

you rub your hands down your face, flustered due to his actions and his words. you don’t say anything for a moment because what is there to say after he kisses you like that and then compliments you?

“can we go before we’re late?” you ask.

michael smiles down at your abashed face, hands still resting on your waist. “whatever my baby wants.”

you walk away from him, finally free from the bedroom that you definitely would’ve been having sex in if you stayed there for another moment. you hear michael’s footsteps behind you and you don’t need to turn around to know that his eyes are transfixed on your ass.

my gosh, you think. you’re not making it halfway through the release party if he isn’t able to keep his hands to himself. you hope he’s able to control himself until you’re able to get home for the sake of his public image and your sanity.

“do we have everything?” you asks as you start unlocking the front door.

“mhm. i think your lip gloss might be a little messed up, though,” you don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smirking.

“and i wonder whose fault that is,” you reply, opening the front door.

you hear michael locking the front door behind you as you move towards bill’s car. as you approach his car, his mouth opens as if he’s about to say something yet he doesn’t.

michael approaches you from behind and you see bill’s eyes flit from you michael. he’s seemingly putting some kind of pieces together because a smirk adorns his face and he laughs.

“the two of you must’ve been having a good time,” bill quips.

you turn around to face michael and the first thing you notice is your lip gloss strewn across his lips. you assume yours is smudged or lacking from the fact that both michael and bill are now laughing.

to say you were embarrassed was an understatement. you were already flustered from what happened in michael’s bedroom. but someone close to both of you has an idea of it? you might as well be dead.

you make a futile attempt at ignoring them and slide into the backseat of bills car. without loitering for much longer, michael slides into the backseat next to you. bill walks around the car to the driver's seat and you can do nothing but pray for a normal car ride.

michael manages to keep his hands to himself for the majority of the car ride, only opting to rest his hand on your thigh. throughout the journey, he made comments here and there about how pretty you looked and how he couldn’t wait to have you all to himself when you got back home. but other than that, he was on his best behavior.

you arrived at the venue after about thirty minutes. it had a pleasant exterior, but it was a small place due to the fact that michael wanted his release party to be an intimate event.

he only invited those closest to him, wanting the celebratory event of his second solo album to be filled with people he held close to his heart. the closer you got to the venue, the more excited you got.

you and your boyfriend were celebrating the release of his album. it hadn’t dawned on you how much of a big deal this was until you were actually inside the venue.

it was packed with people close to both you and michael: his family, quincy, even paul mccartney. everything felt so private and personal, a room full of pride and noblesse.

“oh, baby,” katherine coos when she sees you, “you look so good.”

she pulls you into a hug that’s a little too tight, yet you say nothing because you’re just as happy to see her. “thank you. you look gorgeous yourself,” you compliment her.

she pulls back from you and lets her eyes roam your face. there’s a look of fondness adorning them that neither of you mention. then, she turns her attention to michael and pulls him into a hug that might’ve been ever tighter than the one she just had you in.

“how you gon’ hug her before me, ma?” michael half-jokes.

“boy hush,” she sways him whilst maintaining the hug, “you already know how proud i am of you. you done went and released another album. and you did it all without your father,” she beams.

that pulls a laugh out of you and michael. seeing people, especially his mother swelling with such pride at his work was enough to make both of you tear up.

katherine pulls back from the hug and smooths her hand down the arms of his suit jacket. she looks like she’d cry if she looked at michael for any longer.

“well, i’ll leave both of y’all to it. michael, go talk to your brothers. and don’t y’all do nothing too crazy,” she ends.

your face scrunches up at the innuendo behind her words, but you don’t think about it for too long. michael grabs your hand and begins to lead you towards his brothers, jermaine and tito. you had no clue where the rest of them were, but they tended to disperse when it came to events like this.

“michael!” jermaine called out before you even reached him, “man, i’m so proud of you.”

“you done dropped another album on us,” tito added.

“thank you,” michael replied, almost seeming bashful.

you smiled from where you were standing next to him. seeing him being praised for the album he worked so hard on made you so buoyant. he deserved all the praise in the world and more for the work he put into this release.

“but when you said ‘i can thrill you more than any ghoul would ever dare try’, what that meant?” jermaine asks.

you let out an incredulous laugh and you look away from jermaine. you didn’t even know how michael would respond to that question because you knew what the lyric meant. and you knew jermaine knew what the lyric meant and he was asking just to embarrass michael.

“you’re a dimwit.”

“man, i was jus’ asking,” jermaine responds, but the smirk on his face says that he had other intentions.

“but you look good,” jermaine says, turning his attention to you.

tito lets out a chuckle, but corrects himself after seeing the look on michael’s face. it’s nothing short of irritation and heavy annoyance.

“thank you jermaine,” you maintain your politeness, “y’all look good,” you signal between him and tito.

you feel michael’s grip tighten on your hand, yet you don’t say anything. both of you knew his brothers liked to flirt just because, so you never took them seriously. however, michael always seemed a little more than bothered when they would make a comment that was heavily suggestive or their eyes lingered on you for too long.

“mhm. thank you girl,” jermaine responds.

michael pulls you away from his brothers before you have the opportunity to say anything. “god, he’s annoying,” michael complains.

“he was jus’ being nice,” you mutter.

“baby, he was flirting with you right in front of me. his being nice is how i treat you daily,” he finally stopped at an area in the venue that wasn’t as crowded as the rest.

“you’re all for me. know that,” his hands find purchase on your waist and he pulls you flush against him. you feel him poking you from within his suit pants, and it flusters you beyond relief.

“mikey…” you whisper.

“‘m sorry baby. you jus’ look so pretty. everybody’s congratulating me on the album like i don’t have my biggest achievement next to me.”

you smile, rubbing your hands up and down the arms of your dress to calm your nerves. “thank you, mikey. but you should be proud of the album. you worked so hard on it and now it’s finally out.”

“mhm. gonna show me how proud you are when we get home?”

you whine and cover your face with your hands. the nerve of your boyfriend to be speaking so luridly while you’re in public! you would’ve slapped his chest or attempted to push him away if it wasn’t for your hands covering your face.

“can we go back to the party now?”

“of course, baby,” he removes his hands from your waist only to grab one of your hands once again. he leads you back to the party, having to push through crowds upon crowds of bodies.

overall, the release party turns out to be a huge success. with all of michael’s friends and loved ones present, it’s nothing but an event full of pride and adoration.

michael received more compliments on his album than you’ve heard in your entire life, and he had you by his side during the entirety of it. his hand stayed in yours or on your waist, and he barely let you out of his sight.

by the end of the night, your heels are in his hand like he thought they would be and his other hand won’t leave your waist. you’re bidding everyone farewell before you’re able to collapse in the backseat of bills car.

when you finally make it home, you’re halfway ready to pass out and halfway ready to take the hottest shower of your life. you’re so tired that walking up the stairs of your shared home feels like an absolute chore. just one look at your face and michael can see the exhaustion.

“i got you, baby,” he hooks his arms under both of your legs whilst still holding your heels in one of his hands. you wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to melt into his chest.

he’s so warm, he smells so good, and it feels like he’s the only thing in the house right now. there’s nowhere you’d rather be in his arms. well, you could be on him but you could settle for this right now.

he nudges open the door to the bedroom, and adjusts himself so he’s able to set your heels down while still carrying you. afterwards, he walks to your bed and sits down with you still in your arms.

you’re sat sideways on his lap and you can’t help but feel him against you. you just got to your shared bedroom, yet michael’s exuding arousal all without you actually doing anything to him. but you weren’t one to judge because you needed him just as bad right now.

“i need you, mikey,” you whine.

“yeah?” his hands tighten around your waist, “where d’ya need me?”

you whine again. you need him everywhere at the same time and it’s overwhelming, but in the best way. “i need you in me.”

michael’s breath hitches, but he says nothing in response. he begins to bunch your maxi dress up on your hips until he’s able to slide his hand up your thigh.

his hand inches further up, but it feels like he’s going at the slowest pace possible. “hurry up mikey, please.”

“my impatient baby. ‘s okay. i got you,” he runs his hand up your thigh until he’s right where you need him.

his hand comes into contact with your underwear, lacy with a bow, although he’s unable to see it. he can feel you seeping through the cotton and you don’t need to see his face to know it’s smug.

“this all for me, pretty?” he teases.

“all for you, mikey. need you so much right now.”

he hums in response, pulling your underwear down. he runs his fingers through your slick folds and revels in your moans every time he comes into contact with you.

he continues to tease you until his fingers are wet with your arousal. then, he eases one of his fingers into you. they’re so big and you’re tightening around him, unable to let out anything but moans.

his finger pumps in and out at a languid pace before he adds a second. the feeling of another one of his long, lanky fingers entering you makes you even louder. your fingers grip his shoulder in a fruitless attempt to ground yourself.

his once languid pace was quickening, and you feel stuffed with just two of his fingers inside of you. he curls them and it hits just the right spot to have you gripping his shoulders even tighter and moaning out his name.

“you’re the prettiest, baby,” michael murmurs.

you’re unable to respond. your head is thrown back and the only sound that’s coming out of is moans and nearly unintelligible strings of his name.

everything feels so good right now and when michael curls his fingers inside you even more, it’s exactly what sends you over the edge. you cum with a slight shake and silent scream, completely leaning into michael’s body.

“i got you, pretty baby,” he whispers to you as you come to.

you’re utterly exhausted and hyper aware of the mess you made on your dress and michael’s suit pants. this dress was a gift from michael and tonight was your first time wearing it, so you can’t help but be a little bummed at it being ruined.

“mikey, my dress is all fucked up now,” you complain.

“‘s okay, baby. i’ll get you another one. but lemme clean you up.”

But…he has to admit theres one position that has his head spinning that his ma would probably shake her head at. But he can’t help it. He is after all just a man. Maybe not a human man but god when he hears those cries and feels your cunt wrapped around him he might as well be as weak as one. 

You’re flat on your stomach, hands clawing at the sheets as Clark’s arm gently wraps around your head. A firm reminder of his presence. As if his dick pounding into you wan’t enough. He’s holding himself up with the other hand. Making sure he doesn’t crush you with his other worldly strength. His hips are punishing in their movements. Hard and slow, like he’s carving his name into your cunt.

Normally he likes watching your face as he makes you feel good but with this position he can hear your whimpers and moans so much clearer. His face is pressed to the side of yours, his nose smushed against your cheek. Pretty filth spilling from his lips as he praises you and your body for responding so well to him.

Making such sweet noises honey

You feel so good, squeezing me so tight m’afraid you need to relax baby

Making a mess on the sheets hm? That’s okay I’ll take care of it just let go on my dick.

He has no idea the kind of effect he truly has on you but based on the way your thighs are shaking and your nails are digging into his arm, he has some idea.

He likes feeling you go limp in his arms, melting into a puddle and trusting Clark to take care of you. Your brain turning to mush but you know that he’s there and that he’s safe. Perhaps Superman has a small hero complex as the idea makes his cock twitch.

Joel had started getting used to these kinds of questions from you. Something told him early on this is likely what life with you would be like, so might as well get used to it. He barely reacted aside from casually grumbling into your body: “S’never a time where you n’ me in the same room, and ya lookin’ at my dick, and it wouldn't be hard.”

But that wasn’t good enough for you. “That can’t be true. Roll over right now.”

But Joel didn’t budget.

So you used your surprising leg strength and flipped him like a pancake.

Joel tossed over easily, but the way your eyes laser beamed down at his crotch made him cover the area sheepishly with the pillow.

You saw it anyway, the clear print tent on his front jutting out.

“Are you hard right now??” You ask in disbelief.

“When ya lookin’ at me like that? Of course I am!” He retorts defensively, shifting his hardened dick to a more comfortable, more discrete location without his trousers.

“I’m not lookin at you any different way.”

“Every look ya give me makes me hard…” he admits. His ears turned red.

“But... When will I be able to see it soft…” you draw your eyes into a cute pout.

Joel rolls his eyes. “When I’m dead probably. I can't stay soft when I’m with you.”

“So you’re just walking around with a boner all day every day?”

“No. It’s only after I get to see you.” 

You suck your cheek in, looking away. You don’t want him to notice the unavoidable grin plastered on your face from his open and unashamed confession.

You tap your finger on your book for a moment.

"I want to see it soft," you declare.

Joel lets out a chuckle. "Never gonna happen."

"I've known you for a year. I have to know. its like. A milestone. Or something..."

He raises his brow.

You double down. "'Or something', I said! Its a thing. Look it up." When he doesn't relent, you get up on your knees, tossing the book aside. "What do I have to do to make it soft."

Joel laughs, leaning back with one hand behind his head. "You know, there you have been in the same room as me when i've been soft many times, babygirl. Always the same situation."

"Why don't I remember??"

"Cus you're always too fucked out droolin' in the sheets by then," he says cockily.

Something about his smug sexy grin riles you up, and you quickly find yourself straddling atop him.

His hands instinctively seek purchase on your thighs, stroking them up and down while his eyes racked up and down the gorgeous sight of you on top of him. "This ain't helpin' ya get any closer to seein' the 8th wonder of the world..." He hums. To emphasize his point, he drags your clothed mound against his bulge.

It made your insides warm and fuzzy for a moment, your brain slipping into that dizzy realm of pleasure. The one that makes you sway and melt, do whatever the hell Joel wants, and sleep so good afterwards--

No! you were determined to see that thing floppin' around like a deflated wet balloon, even if it was the last thing you saw!

"I need you to get soft."

"Its too late. Im rock hard."

"Make it go backwards!"

"Cant go backwards. Only go forward. Care to find out?" He teases with a smirk. Joel sucks his lower lip as he slowly starts a steady rhymth, rocking you in place, his feet planted a little more firmly so you had no chance of escaping.

You let out a low whine. The only way out, was through. For as long as Joel knew you, you never backed out of a challege.

You also never really win at these things... but he loved how that fact never stopped you.

1 hour later...

The most desperate, pained, pleasurable croak you could muster gets muffled into the betsheets as you bite down on the fabric.

"Ah huh. How ya doin' sweatpea?" Joel huffs. Powerful hips drive into your ass repeatedly, his hands gripping your waist like he meant to leave bruises there. Each thrust sent your forehead scraping forward against the mattress. It took all your night not to fall off the side of the bed.

This fucker! you thought. How the fuck does he do this?

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he expertly angles his cock down, smacking your g spot repeatedly.

Like always, you'd lost count of your orgasms. Like always, you stopped using coherent words and instead resorted to babbling whines to communicate. and Like always, Joel wasn't anywhere near slowing down.

"I ain't hear you, baby." He lays his body closer to yours, chest top your back, slotting against you like a mould. Slow, deep, method rolls keeps his tip planted deep inside you. He was so solid inside your body. Outside your body. all over you, all of him. His scent, his taste, his touch. Intoxicating and addicting over and over again.

That fucker!

You could feel his breath tickle your as he whispers: "You still waitin' to see it soft?"

Thirty minutes ago you would have ground your teeth and stuck it out with your middle finger up, ass even higher, and mind set to the sky.

But now?

Now you just hummed stupidly, eyes blurry with tears, and brain so switched off, its a miracle you could ever form a thought.

It took less than 20 minutes from that before you were face planted, unconscious in his pillow, a drooling sight he never got tired of.

Joel laid back next to you. He sighed heavily, body ablaze with sweat. You didn't notice it, but he had cum three times, and he was beat. That was usually his max, granted he had saved all week until he could get his hands on you. He was patient like that, waiting for when you'd be in the mood, and not pouncing on ya. Sex was better when you were a stubborn, determined little thing.

But he was exhausted. and true to his word, his cock sagged tiredly against his lower belly.

Joel raises his brow before brushing the hair from your face. If there was a chance you were awake to peak it, you would have shown sign of being alive right now. Instead, despite his best effort to poke your cheek awake, you snored deeply. A well earned rest.

A chuckle escapes his chest. "So much for milestones," he says to himself. He doesn't stop brushing your hair gently from your face. His thumb grazing the soft expanse of your cheek.

"My girl," he hums softly.

He remembered the first time you slept at his place over a year ago, and the thought of waking up to you like this every day plagued his mind.

Its the same thought that tumbles through his mind as he rolls the little velvet box in his hand. He keeps flicking it open, then closed, and the beautiful diamond ring flashes at him repeatedly.

"Whatdda think? You gonna like it?" He asks to your unconscious body, presenting the ring.

you let out an even louder snore.

"Yeah. let's hope that's a yes."

Joel tucks the ring back in his bedside drawer. Not today.

Some day.

Then, the thought dawned on him. A terrible, awful, unthought of one that could thwart that dream from every happening.

What if you said no, all because you never saw him soft???

- - - -

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