Urhotnonna

You looked over to your right to see your boyfriend, Michael, sleeping peacefully, a serene expression peaking through a curtain of dark curls that fell in front of his face. He didn’t seem fazed by the thunder at all. He was in such a deep sleep that he was even drooling on his pillow a little bit.

With a sudden urge to use the bathroom, you got up out of bed, your legs still shaking from being so startled, and made your way to the restroom, trying your hardest not to wake Michael.

You seemed to have failed at not waking him up, because by the time you got back from the bathroom, he was sitting upright in bed and rubbing his face. He looked at you heavy-eyed as he tried to get himself to fully wake up.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, his voice light yet gruff. “Did the thunder scare you?”

You nodded your head sheepishly. You always found your fear of thunderstorms childish and embarrassing, but Michael always knew how to comfort you and make you feel better. It wasn’t necessarily hard for him to do when you were so deeply in love with him.

“Come here, baby.”

He opened his arms, beckoning for you to lay down on top of him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He never wore one to bed. No pants either. He always went to bed in just his boxer briefs, nothing else. You were the opposite however, as you always wore a nightie to bed with no underwear.

You crawled back into bed and melted yourself into his arms. His arms enveloped you like a warm blanket and the skin of his chest and torso were refreshingly cool to the touch, combating your skin still prickling with heat. You laid your head directly where his heart was, the soothing sound of it beating in a nice, slow-paced rhythm and the movement of his chest rising up and down with every breath almost put you right back to sleep.

He cooed and whispered sweet nothings in your ear but they were interrupted when another strike of lightning flashed outside, startling you once again as you covered your ears to avoid hearing the roar of thunder that would soon follow. You were wide awake once again.

“Gosh, it doesn’t sound like the thunder’s gonna stop anytime soon. If it keeps going like that, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to sleep,” Michael said with slight worry in his voice. For him, it was fine if he missed a night of sleep, he was certainly used to it, but he hated seeing you go through a restless night over something you couldn’t control. He wanted to help, but what was he gonna do? Become God and stop the thunder?

“Ugh,” you grumbled as you sat yourself up, “I’m not even tired anymore. Looks like I’m not sleeping tonight.” You slumped out of Michael's grip and plopped yourself onto your side of the bed, facing away from him in a huff. You weren’t upset at him, you were upset that the weather had to be so bad right now. Michael knew how cranky you could get from lack of sleep.

Still, he persisted in trying to calm you down and make you go back to sleep. He turned to his side to face you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him as your backside pressed up against the front of him. You gasped slightly as your ass made contact with his protruding bulge, the only thing separating the two of you being the thin lace of your nightie and the fabric of his snug boxer briefs.

You could feel yourself get wet almost instantly. You shifted your legs, trying to contain the wetness that was pooling between them out of nowhere. You could almost feel it begin to drip down your thigh, and the feeling of Michael's growing erection pressed up against your ass wasn’t helping. God, it was so laughably easy for him to make you horny, it was unreal.

You could feel the outline of his dick veins and the precum seeping through. You moved your legs and fiddled with your nightie, discreetly trying to push it down so that your wetness wouldn’t spill onto him. Michael took note of that, gently pushing your hands away and slipping his own hands under your nightie, firmly grasping your hips, massaging them, trying his hardest to contain himself. His hands nearly twitched trying to avoid your erogenous zones. He didn’t want things to move too quickly.

You turned to face him and pressed your lips against his, starting out slow and gentle as you two gave each other nothing but quick lazy pecks. However, it quickly transitioned to the two of you devouring each other like hungry animals. You grabbed fistfuls of Michael's hair as you moaned softly into his mouth, his tongue gliding across yours and refusing to let go. Michael's hand slithered underneath your nightie once more and placed itself on your bare ass, squeezing it with great force. Your body grinded against his, your soaking wet folds dampening his underwear, making his cock throb with desperation. He groaned lowly, the vibration in his throat making you tremble as you felt his cock twitch up against your clit, just begging to pound into you.

You broke yourself away from the kiss, as much as you didn’t want to. The only reason you did so was because you needed air. “Michael,” you mumbled breathlessly into his ear, “please~”

He wasted no time in removing his boxer briefs and throwing them to the floor in a haste. His cock sprang free with an intense recoil, lightly hitting against your clit, making you jump with a moan. His precum created a string between your vulva and him, connecting the two of you as one.

Michael pinned you down on your back, maneuvering himself on top of you as he voraciously kissed you once more, his lips so needy and hungry for you. His hands traveled up and down your body, finding their way to your nightie to remove it completely, leaving the both of you fully nude. His large hands grabbed and kneaded your tender breasts, massaging them while he gently pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, making you whimper beneath him.

His lips started traveling away from your mouth and down your neck, leaving wet hickeys on your sweet spots that would certainly bruise later. At the same time, his right hand wandered down your body until it made contact with your dripping hole, collecting some of your juices to coat your clitoris in before gently rubbing it in controlled circles. You squirmed and wriggled under his grip as electric rods of pleasure surged deep within you. His slender fingers caressed your vulva further, making sure to tease your entrance while they were at it. You whimpered lightly when his middle and ring finger slipped inside of you with impossible ease, stroking your inner walls to prepare you for what was to come.

CRACK!

Another bout of lightning and thunder whipped the sky, this one so intense that the thunder roared almost at the exact same time that the lightning flashed. In a panic, your hands removed themselves from Michael's hair and raced to cover your ears as your eyes fused themselves shut. Michael acted swiftly by pulling you in close to his body and pressing his lips against your forehead.

"Shhhh, it's okay, baby, it can't hurt you," he whispered in between kisses. "The thunder's only temporary, baby."

With your eyes still closed, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for comfort like a teddy bear. His head buried itself in the nook of your left shoulder and he nibbled gingerly on your earlobe as his soft curls tickled your nose. The rapid thumping of your heart pattered onto his own sweat-gleamed pecs, but this time, it was for a reason unrelated to the perilous thunder.

With his entire weight on top of you and your bodies pressed together with not a centimeter of space between each other, there was only one place where his throbbing member could be at this moment, and that was resting amply between your slippery folds. His tip aligned with your entrance but hovered ever so slightly away from it. So painfully close, yet so painfully far.

"Michael~" you whined in his ear, "I can't wait any longer, I need you inside me already." You impulsively bucked your hips, making your vulva tap him just in case he needed a nonverbal hint.

He grinned against your ear and tucked his hands beneath your thighs to pull them up, your knees resting comfortably against the sides of his waist. "Anything for my baby," he murmured.

With one hand cradling your head and the other gripping the base of his cock, Michael lifted his hips ever so slightly and positioned himself right at your entrance. He rubbed his raw tip around the edges of your hole in tiny circles before pushing himself in, taking pride in the rhapsodic moan that ejected from your mouth and directly into his ear as he filled you up.

Meticulously, Michael pushed himself all the way in until his hips met yours. Your thighs rested nicely on top of his and his cock stuffed you just the way you liked, sitting idly in front of your cervix and being hugged by the slick ridges of your pussy's walls.

Gripping onto his hips, you beckoned him to start moving in and out of you, and he did just that, steadily grinding on you, the coarse curls of his pubic hair tickling your vulva with each elongated stroke.

Once you grew accustomed to his size, he picked up the pace, following a stable rhythm that synchronized with the rain outside which had since turned into torrential downpour. Every instance of him sliding in and out of you brought ripples of nerve-stricken pleasure to your core, radiating through the rest of your body in the form of intense heat bubbling underneath your skin that his touch could no longer cool down.

You could feel every vein of his girthy cock grazing the inside of your pussy. Your whimpers of vulnerable desperation blended with the euphoric moans escaping from Michael's lips created a symphony against the aggressive background noise of the rain that coerced your eyelids to flutter closed, making you take in this moment as if you'd never experience anything like this ever again, though you knew full well that that was far from the truth.

Michael's wet lips feverishly pecked at your face, desperate to find your lips until they collided at last like magnets. Your tongues twirled around each other as his cock continued to pound into you, his hips slapping yours with an audible clap every second on the dot.

"God, you feel so good, baby," he whispered into your mouth in between kisses, his voice low and raspy. "You're perfect in every way, I'll never get tired of you. Never, never, never, never~"

He planted sloppy kisses in between each "never" he spoke, missing your lips half the time but you couldn't care less. You were about to say something in response before he glided two of his fingers into your mouth, inducing you to suck, which you did with pleasure. The saltiness from both his sweat and the remnants of precum that had gotten on his hands tasted delectable on your tongue. After several seconds of licking his slender fingers, he removed them from your mouth, bringing a string of saliva out with them which he lapped up before it could fall on your chest, and crept his slobbered fingers down to your throbbing clit.

You mewled at the initial touch, cool in temperature and so overwhelming for the most sensitive part of your whole body, but as Michael brushed his fingers across your clit as well as your surrounding flesh, you relaxed and your eyes fell again as your head rolled back on the pillow, overcome by double stimulation being done on you.

You tried your best to keep it together, but you slowly felt the ribbons that were holding back your orgasm fraying at the seams. Michael skating his tongue across your jawline and neck and leaving wet kisses wherever it landed, his nimble fingers tracing unidentifiable shapes and symbols on your aching nub, his cock slamming into you with no mercy making the headboard bang against the wall with each ruthless thrust, his sweltering body flush against yours and his back muscles tensing as you dragged your nails across his skin. It was all becoming too much. The buildup was drawing close to it's grand finale, and it looked as though the same could be said for Michael with the way his thrusting rhythm sputtered into sloppy out of control strokes and his breathing drastically picked up speed with dainty whimpers sprinkled into the mix.

"I can't—I don't know if I can hold on any longer, baby," he breathed into your neck.

"I'm almost there, I'm gonna cum, Michael, just don't stop, please~" you responded, swinging your legs up to his back and interlocking your ankles to trap him in; his kryptonite. No matter how hard he tried, Michael was never able to contain himself whenever you pulled out the classic move.

In a frenzied fit, his thrusts gained more speed, his fingers ferociously massaged your clit while trying not to subconsciously ball themselves into a fist, his teeth sunk into the base of your throat, and with a muffled roar of a moan, everything spilled out of him and inside of you, thick ropes of warm cum shooting out of his pulsating cock and into your contracting pussy as you too rode out your high, your juices gushing out and spilling all over him. You both clung onto each other for dear life as your climaxes took over. You wailed Michael's name and he sweetly cried yours as he pumped every last drop of cum inside of you, feeling the same fiery explosion of pleasure deep in the pit of his stomach as you did.

Eventually, your cries turned into tiny whimpers and murmurs as your bodies relaxed once the final bit of your orgasms subsided. Michael lay on top of you for a little while longer with his cock still buried within you, being squeezed gently by each post-orgasm throb that your cunt did impulsively. After several minutes of laying in comfortable silence, Michael got up from the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom to clean you off. Once he finished wiping all of his discarded cum off of your pussy and thighs, he grabbed your nightie from the floor and dressed you before doing the same to himself with his boxers.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ sugarboyfriend!michael who agreed to your condition of needing to dress up in a girl's wig and pyjamas to be allowed entry.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ sugarboyfriend!michael who performs an elaborate duo performance with you to "Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun", still in his mandatory dress code, and is twirling feathery scarves around.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ sugarboyfriend!michael who unironically lives for the gossip being shared at the sleepover. "He made her split the bill? What a shmuck!"He says, baffled, with an avocado mask on, while you sat in front of him, painting his nails. "Mikey, stop moving!" "Sorry."

˚⟡˖ ࣪ sugarboyfriend!michael who convinces everyone to prank Bill, and drives everyone to his house. Which was a terrifying experience itself. Then quickly, you all giggle while teepeeing his house. Only for Bill to call the cops, and you blame Michael right away. "I'm too pretty to go to jail," you would tell him.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ sugarboyfriend!michael who curls up against you, equally as aggressively as you do to him, while you both stare in horror as your close friend shares a vivid horror story. "I'll pay you whatever cash Michael has in his wallet to end the story already," "deal." "baby!"

I do not give consent to copying/editing my work.

Of course you were there. It’s impossible for him to picture a universe where you weren’t in his life, by his side, helping with every hardship he’s faced. You couldn’t imagine yourself holding any other title other than Michael Jackson’s best friend, because of how perfect the role has sat within you over the years.

However, Michael is beginning to disagree. Especially with tonight, losing count how many times his eyes have taken him to your direction.

How oblivious you are to the way his gaze undresses you from where he sits beside, soaking up every gussied feature on you. The way your dress hasn’t missed a curve of yours to hug, breasts being nicely lifted, wanting to see how well they would fit in the palms of his hands instead. The way he’s now realizing how stunning gold jewelry looks against the complexion of your skin, giving him an idea on what to gift you for your next birthday. The way the glossy red on your lips reminds him of freshly picked strawberries in the spring, wondering if it would taste like them too if he closed the distance.

The way he knew he accidentally let his fantasies run a little too long, a tent in his pants starting to form.

“Isn’t that right, Michael?” You bring him back to reality, surroundings no longer quiet. He’s quick to bring a hand to cover his crotch as subtly as he could make it look, forgetting just how many people are here.

“Uhm, sorry, what?”

You gave him a scolding look for not paying attention, nodding your head towards his mother. “I was bringing up when you came over for the first time, and didn’t know I had a dog.”

You and his mother start giggling as you both reminisce, even more so at the color leaving his face, thinking it’s because of the mortifying memory being brought up.

No, it’s actually because he got a whiff of your dreamy vanilla perfume scent, and it went immediately to his dick, pants getting tighter.

“Oh my gosh, the scream you let out when my tiny baby tried jumping on your lap to give you kisses! People down the road thought someone was dying.”

Your guys’ laughter is drown out as he mentally draws a plan to escape, needing to be anywhere but here.

Michael barely was discreet in the way he stood up so suddenly, startling you two, about to bring a concerned hand to his side.

“Michael? Are you alri—“

“Sorry, gotta pee.” Is all he said before speed-walking across the lawn, ignoring any family member trying to stop him for a quick conversation on the way.

In a blink of an eye, Michael found himself in his room upstairs, shutting the door with one hand and fumbling his belt open with the other. He’s painfully hard, no strength he can find within him to ignore it.

The edge of the bed dips as he sits, pants and boxers shoved only halfway to his legs, impatient to wrap his palm around his erection.

The memory of your appearance and smell sharpens as he begins to touch himself, quieting his breathing as best he could.

His strokes are slow, eyes slipping closed, attempting to ignore the first burn of guilt brewing deep in his stomach for having such thoughts about his best friend, while having a bunch of family over.

Having his eyes closed had him fail to see the way he forgot to lock the door in the hurry he was in to be alone, knob turning to reveal you entering.

“Michael? Are you in her—“

You didn’t finish your sentence. The words died on your tongue as soon as you saw him jump from being frightened, hard cock still in hand. You wanted to check up on him, because it’s been a minute since he left for the bathroom. You were worried bringing up that embarrassing moment of his with your dog might’ve been too far on your part, so you searched to comfort him.

Yet, this wasn’t the sight you were expecting yourself to see upon entering his room. You also weren’t expecting yourself to feel your stomach do a weird flip as he begin to struggle to find the right words to explain himself, breath held hostage in his throat.

He stutters out your name, brain lagging, trying to find a version of reality where this isn’t happening. “Wh— I—I’m so sorry, shit—“

Michael doesn’t hear the click of you locking the door, or see you slowly make your way over to him, too busy trying to get his pants back on and avoid your possible disgusted stare.

“I — I was just—“ his voice cracks, sounding like he’s about to cry, too humiliated to even breathe. “Please just forget about this and go back downstairs, this is so embar—“

You cut him off. “Were you thinking of me?”

His eyes now meet yours, because he isn’t sure if he heard you correctly. You don’t blink, holding his stare, a tilt of your head to urge him to answer you.

He flinches in surprise when you take a seat next to him, giving one look down then pinning him again with your gaze. “Did I do that?”

The air between you thickens, heavy with something searing. He sees the way your lips part, breath fanning warm against his cheek, watching how you’re savoring this moment rather than being embarrassed for him, like any other person would.

“What? N-No, I mean—“

You cut him off again. “Don’t lie to me, Mikey. I’ve seen the way you’ve been staring at me all night.”

Oh, so you weren’t oblivious like he thought.

You can see how afraid he was to speak, not too sure if this is truly happening or not.

“I’d be a terrible best friend to not help you out, wouldn’t I? After all, I did cause this.” You gently remove his hand that’s been hiding his cock from you, causing the heat to pulse through him like a wave.

Michael’s mind is in a battle of being convinced if he’s dreaming or not. He hates the way his legs instinctively open up for you, heart pounding like it’s trying to burst out of his ribs. Shame still clings onto his skin like sweat, but he doesn’t dwell on it any further as soon as your fingers curl around his thick length.

You give him a slow stroke, watching the way his jaw tightens. You revel in how he doesn’t know whether to stop you or take lead, resorting to just bunching the sheets beneath where you two sit.

“Do you know how many people downstairs are wondering where you are?” Your thumb circles the head and you let your hand linger there, not quite giving what he needs, not quite letting him have anything at all.

“Not knowing you’re hiding, touching yourself to the thought of me.” You finally hear him make a sound, the smallest of a mewl. You graze your mouth over his cheek, then to the corner of his mouth, careful not to give him the satisfaction of a real kiss. “How disrespectful, during a party thrown for you.”

He shakes his head, wishing he couldn’t hear how pathetic his tone is right now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, just..!”

You blink through your lashes innocently, ignoring how his cock glistens in your fist. “Please just what? Please just keep moving my hand like this?” You tease as you drag your palm a little faster, just enough to make his hips jerk.

He nods, lips pressed tight, not wanting to hear the whine in his voice again. Yet you wouldn’t let that cross, strokes going back to slow, squeezing tight at the base. “It looks like you want something. You want to come, huh? Tell me. Tell me or I’ll stop.”

He swallows any drop of dignity left in him, brain completely turned to mush. He nods, pathetic as ever, a whimper evident through his words. “Yes, yes, I want to come.”

You smile, bottom lip caught between your teeth. You didn’t think how easy this would be, turning him into a babbling dumb mess under your touch. How long has he been yearning for this? As long as you have?

You continue working your hand but begin to hum in thought. “Hmm, I don’t know.” You tease the sensitive spot just under the head with your thumb until his hips jerk up again and swear under his breath. “Maybe if you tell me you’re sorry again for sneaking away to jerk off.”

He doesn’t even hesitate, the pleasure becoming too loud. “I’m sorry! Very, very sorry, I’m— oh!”

You flick your tongue to taste his lower lip, making him chase your mouth as you pull away, grinning. “I’m sorry to who?”

“Y-You…!” He shudders, heart pounding at the sound of your voice as you hold him right there. Your hand on his cock, mouth teasing him, the look in your eyes as you make him wait, make him admit how humiliating he made this situation become for himself.

You feign confusion, but your hand never slows. “Im sorry for what?”

God, you’re killing him.

“For t-touching myself!” He responds with a moan breaking out of his chest, hips bucking up into your hand without any sense of control anymore. You have your eyes meet his again, to have him see how much you love having him desperate beneath you.

“Say please again.”

His voice cracks, the knot of desire tightening in him until he can barely see straight. “Please— God, please let me come.”

And then you stopped. You pull your hand away, ignoring the way his cock twitches for its familiar warmth back. His gasp is filled with frustration punched deep in his chest, near orgasm snatched from him so quick it left him dazed and at a loss for words.

You go to stand, fixing your dress that rid up a little.