Recs From Starlightz 🌠 - Blog Posts

TURKEY, GREENS, AND…

[you made dinner, but mike is hungry for something else…] | 2.1k words

WARNINGS: fem! reader , sexual themes , fingering , oral (f! receiving) , penetration , dirty talk , another size kink if you squint

[1991]

he’d called a few hours ago to let you know he’d be home late. you’d thought, by the grace of something holy, you’d be fast asleep by the time he slips into bed with you, but it becomes clearer as the night grows heavier that you too had begun to adapt to michael’s nocturnal tendencies. perhaps begrudgingly, you are wide awake. so you wait for him while your cornbread cools by the oven, still hot from the turkey dinner you made while he was gone, flicking aimlessly through the late night channels, legs curled under you until, well past midnight, you hear his key turn in the door.

he seems surprised to see you bumbling to the foyer, displaying you’d been strong enough to wait up. and he seems quite pleased by it, wrapping his arms around you and dipping you in love.

you beam at his sleepy doting. “hi, baby.”

“hi, angel,” he muses, capturing your lips in a devout kiss. “i didn’t wake you did i?”

you shake your head, nuzzle against him, the heady scent of him slipping into your nose and warming every nerve. his cologne, sweet hair oil, the perfect treat he was for you. “i missed you.”

“i missed you more,” he answers. his voice low, tired. his fingers squeeze you closer like he wants to bring you somewhere.

you size him up, arms secure around his neck. “did you eat at all while you were over there?”

he chuckles boyishly, already used to the question, and the repercussions of fibbing to get out of it. “no. we didn’t have time.”

you figured just as much, but could strangle bill and ted anyway. “well, i’ll heat up dinner for you, baby, you must be starving.”

you fail to notice that his grip on you doesn’t fall away easy. the fabric of your shirt, that he so aptly attempts to grab a hold of, slips urgently through his fingers and that’s when he notices. that’s his shirt. one of his collared button-downs draped over you like a nightgown.

those ardent eyes trail after you on the way through the house like you were a pie wafting on a windowsill. his bottom lip disappears beneath his teeth, seemingly staving off temptation.

“smells good, baby,” he says as casually as he can muster it and his ‘good’ comes out like gary, indiana snuck in through the backdoor and yawned back into his bones. you hum into a smile, the sound melting you delightfully like a popsicle on the fourth of july.

“it’s the cornbread,” you simper, bare feet padding onto the clear kitchen tiles. you bend into the fridge light. the tail of michael’s shirt betrays you, giving way to a glimpse of your panties. “your mom gave me the recipe for her turkey and greens. did you want all of it?” then, in the drawer at your hips, silverware clink and dink in your fingers, the large dinner plate you had wrapped in foil sat right beside you on the kitchen island. “i can just give you the turkey if you don’t want the whol—“

your face flushes a becoming red, surprise beams all the way down to the tips of your toes. you shift and feel nearly every inch of michael, spread out and solid, against your body through the fierce strain in his pants. you laugh, you think, but it comes out like a twist between a gasp and a gulping sound. you feel michael’s hands sneak around your waist, pulling you into his needy embrace, his mouth bending to your skin, sweeping onto your neck with gluttonous kisses.

you find his hands with yours, eyes fluttering closed to the heat of his touch. “don’t you want dinner?”

he doesn’t respond, just slips his hands beneath his shirt. slow palms wipe your skin with a sweetness, finding your breasts bare as he tenderly cups them. the shirt raises, exposing your near nakedness below.

“aren’t you hungry, baby?” you try again, though your voice only sighs meekly, cowering your head back onto his collarbone. tension quickly falls from you.

“‘s not what i’m hungry for,” he replies, simply, still mouthing along your neck.

“baby…”

he hums into your shoulder, sending vibrations dipping all down your body like it was a line on the telephone.

“you look so good in my shirt.” the ‘good’ dancing out again like sipping iced tea on the rickety back porch.

his skin grazes your nipples delectably, the decadence makes you want to fill your mouth with something. his unoccupied hand sweeps down your belly. you welcome his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties.

“mm mm mm,” he marvels at the feel of you with a shake of his head. your neck now slick with the remnants of his tongue.

michael places his weight on your back, sandwiching you between his fingers making a mess of you and his dick gliding against the fabric still covering you from behind. your moans come out weakly, his arms like a harness for you to lean into as you slip your hips back and forth, grinding on each other.

“i’ve always wanted t’…t’ do it here,” he whispers, huskily.

“me too…” and you have. you often imagined it like this, after dona would go for the day, just the two of you, making love, hands begging for mercy against the counter, and finding nothing to grab.

you shiver against him. he swipes deep between your legs with his middle finger. slick stains his skin.

that was all he needed. his shoe nudges your heels as he slides it in between your feet and you tip toe your legs apart, the way you open feels serene in his baptized hands. “that’s it…that’s it, baby…my baby…” he coos, coaxing you. his open mouth huffing like a furnace. “you gonna give it to me?”

your hands cup the edge of the marble, wordless.

“hm?”

your temples sweat as you nod your answer. “mhm.”

his hand rebounds, wetting your belly as he pulls it away. that sweet ache he leaves you with sends a whine up throat.

“bend over.”

you had no time, no desire, to question what’d gotten into him, like a hound on a leash, you obey. he kneels down, observing your thighs quivering with the strain of arousal. his touch is light and ticklish as his hands sail up the back of your legs, pushing his shirt over your hips and effortlessly dragging your panties down. he, with his manners shining, stretches the fabric in his fingers so you can step out of them, expanding the dark spot where you soaked through. with a light pull on your shin, he beckons you around.

seeing him down on one knee sent your heartbeat seething through you. you pulse, flowering like his face was the sun. he brings your foot up to his knee, resting the sole on it. you watch him wet three fingers in his mouth, a concentrated lust brewing. he touches you gently, spreading your lips apart like he was searching for a jewel. he smiles when he finds it. but he doesn’t let himself win it yet.

he flicks his gaze up at you and then down at her, like he was proud of it. “pretty girl…” he whispers, his tongue peaking out from between his perfect smiling teeth.

he lifts his head to you, slowly, pointedly, zig zagging his tongue from the bottom to the top, humming his eyes shut as your scent envelops him. heavy, sweet, the tip of his tongue now covered in your slick pool. his sweet mouth seals around your clit, sucks and licks, one hand cradles your ankle, the other stabilizes your trembling hip. he swallows the longing as it spills down his throat.

“oh—michael—y-yes.” your hands sweep into his hair, not pulling, but leading the loose curls into your fists, massaging his head like a house cat. “yes,” you whimper, rocking into his tongue, feeling so good, feeling so free. it’s your house and you can have your man; your pop-star; the king between your legs, in your kitchen, whenever you so please.

his eyes open, eyelashes aflutter, as he guides his fingertips to your throbbing core, already clutching around the idea of him. it’s easy, when he slides each of them inside and curls deftly. two of his knuckles bend into your ridged wall, petting you in all ways. you keep your hands in his hair, breathlessly moaning, stepping onto his thigh deeper with each nudge of his fingers and tongue, each suckle from his lips. your mouth slacks as you come, body elated and shaking while he sucks it up, still caressing you inside until you keel over his head, his mouth berating you to bliss like an incessant drum. then, he stops, soft and loving, giggling under your belly.

you let him up, the muscles in your abdomen utterly spent.

“you alright, baby?” he cups your face in his talented hands, gazing into your eyes. his smile smug. triumphant.

“y-yes,” you pant.

his thumb brushes over your lips. gentle. “you want more?”

you answer like a girl possessed, “yes.”

what time was it? what did it matter? the food? oh…you forgot all about that.

“you want it right here?”

he peers into your eyes, they’re flooded with silent pleading.

“i want it right here,” you echo, lips parted, words pour out of you like a most desperate beg.

his lips collapse into yours, the kisses between you quick and clouded by passion. your hands tug fabric from his pants, knocking into tight muscles, soft and smooth on your fingers. his zipper lowers with a high pitched grind, his lips all over you, wildly claiming skin as your breath sweeps out of you in gusts. michael kisses down your neck and licks back up the muscle, closing his mouth around your earlobe.

his hands grab and spin you, pressing his palm to your lower back. as you lay your chest flat to the surface, you look at him, his eyes cast down to the pearling between your legs.

“mmm…baby.” he eases against the opening. you part for him without any toil and he rocks you into a dream, one so entangled in love.

tears fill your eyes to accompany your whimpering at the depth of him. all of his girth barely squeezing inside, especially not from this angle. your body arches into whatever irrepressible sensation he gives. you love him, you thought, you love him so much.

his hips speed. quicker and quicker, but loving all the same. his hands cull your body up to drape his head against your shoulder. with his hold on you, you can feel his heart beating. you can feel it everywhere. in a sudden bite of passion, you drag your knee up on the counter edge and he groans, edging deeper inside.

“you don’t understand what you do to me.” he begins to chant into your ear, sweating from all his longing. “you don’t understand…” he shakes his head, his voice a broken plea. “you don’t understand, baby.”

you hook your arm around his head, your folded shirtsleeve drooping up on your bicep. you pull him in, looking deeply into his doe eyes.

“make me…make me understand—i—i wanna—ah—understand.” your breath comes out in hitches, sucking the air from your words.

a soft growl rumbles from him. the heat from his body, the heat from his thrusts grasping you, trampling every thought and function. he rolls his fingers around your clit and you quiver inside. again and again and again until you’re whimpering.

“c’mon, baby, c’mon, baby.” he hooks onto your mouth, the kiss deep and fast as you tighten into orgasm, a spasm tumbling around his throbbing width. slowly reopening, unable to recover, you feel yourself spill over, slipping and shaking along his length like grooving waves. your leg gently comes down as he empties you with a quickness. he holds your gasping body close to him as he pumps his length, wet with your arousal, and comes into his fist.

the afterglow looks hazy, sleepy, and smiling. your hands rub his face affectionately, your lips kiss the corner of his mouth. “you want your dinner now?”

michael lets out a noise that resembles a snort. you look at him with a confused smile…you’re not joking.

---

𝚃𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 & 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐

Smut

1986

New York City

Word Count: 10.7k

The hotel suite pulsed with the relentless beat of music, every throb reverberating through the walls as you lay on the bed, trying to focus on the movie flickering across the screen. But with the heavy bass pounding through the air and Michael's voice cutting through the chaos as he rehearsed for his upcoming short film, concentration was a lost cause. You knew better than to interrupt him when he was in his zone, especially with the tension that had been building over the last few days. He was becoming more withdrawn, his stress accumulating like storm clouds, and even the brief moments before sleep had become silent and strained.

With a sigh, you gripped the remote and turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise from the main room. The television blared, but it was barely a match for the music and the sharp edge in Michael's tone as he barked out instructions to the dancers. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the way it cracked like a whip through the air.

Suddenly, the music cut off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet before Michael slipped inside. His usually well-kept curls were in disarray, his tie hung loose around his neck, and one of his sleeves was still buttoned as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you.

"Can you turn that down, please?" His voice was strained, almost pleading, but it held a firmness that warned against defiance.

You didn't say anything, just reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the room now thick with unspoken tension.

"Thank you," Michael murmured before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a reminder of the growing distance between you.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the way he'd been acting gnawing at you. You were done tiptoeing around him. Without hesitation, you clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside, throwing the covers back with a decisive flick. As you rose, your reflection caught your eye in the mirror, the black satin of your nightgown clinging to every curve, a silent testament to the power you still held over him.

You reached up, fingers brushing through your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders in a soft cascade. With one last glance in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door, the music immediately assaulting your senses once more.

Your footsteps were muffled against the plush cream-colored carpet as you made your way down the hall. When you reached the main room, your bare feet met the cool surface of the hardwood floor, grounding you as you took in the scene before you. Michael was in the middle of the room, his movements sharp and precise as he demonstrated choreography to Jeffery and Gregg. But the moment you entered, their focus shifted, eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and something far less innocent.

"Damn, Mrs. J," Jeffery muttered, his voice dripping with appreciation.

Gregg let out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, instantly drawing Michael's attention.

His gaze snapped to you, narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Baby, what are you doing out here dressed like that? Go back to the room," he commanded, his tone a mix of protective concern and simmering irritation.

Ignoring his words, you sauntered across the room, feeling the weight of their stares on you. You sank into the plush sofa, crossing your legs slowly, the satin of your gown shifting with the movement. "I just came to watch," you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's not like I'll be a distraction."

Michael's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his composure. He looked away from you, a storm brewing in his dark eyes as he clapped his hands together sharply, drawing the others' attention back to him. "We don't have all night," he snapped, his voice a dangerous edge. "Let's get to work, and quit eyeing my wife."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, their tones subdued, though you could still feel their lingering gazes.

As the music surged back to life, you leaned deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, savoring the heat that curled in your chest. The satisfaction of knowing you had his attention, the way his eyes flickered back to you despite his attempts to stay focused, sent a thrill through you. You weren't about to let that go—not tonight.

Your gaze followed his every move, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. The way his hips swayed in time with the beat, the sharpness of his spins, the precise snap of his fingers—it all spoke of control, discipline, and a deep, simmering passion. But there was also a wildness to him tonight, the way his half-untucked shirt clung to his torso, how the damp air clung to his curls, making them even wilder. Despite the chill of a November night in New York, the heat in the room was palpable, a testament to the intensity with which he worked.

Michael turned to speak to the dancers, his voice authoritative, though his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary before he forced himself to look away.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that curled your lips as you slid your feet up onto the couch, reclining in a way that accentuated the curve of your body. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let one of the straps of your satin nightgown slip down your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. The moment it fell, his attention snapped back to you, the frustration clear in the tight line of his mouth. You winked at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenched in response. He was trying to maintain his composure, especially in front of his colleagues, but you knew you were getting to him.

Determined to keep the game going, you called his name, your voice a sultry purr that sliced through the music. "Michael..."

He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with exasperation and something darker as he turned to face you. "Yes, doll?" he asked, his tone betraying a careful restraint.

"I'm thirsty," you said, your voice laced with innocent mischief. "Could you get me a glass of juice?"

Michael's eyes darkened, a silent warning that you were treading on thin ice. "You two keep working. I'll be back," he told the dancers, his voice clipped as he walked off toward the kitchenette. The sharp sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut punctuated the tension in the air.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine—a mix of anger and desire burning beneath the surface. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. "Here," he said, the word barely more than a growl.

You looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you accepted the juice. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, your tone sweet and saccharine.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Keep going, and I won't be nice after I'm finished rehearsing." His hand cupped your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You held his stare, your smile widening as you felt a delicious thrill run through you. "I'd like that," you replied with a soft chuckle, your voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver visibly ran through him, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he sighed deeply, releasing your chin and pulling back. Without another word, he returned to the dancers, his movements sharp and deliberate, though there was a new tension in his body. You could tell you were getting to him, unraveling that tight control he always prided himself on.

As you sipped your orange juice, your eyes locked onto Michael, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Every move he made was laced with tension, his body more charged, more deliberate, as if he was trying to shake off the effect you had on him. But you knew better. No amount of rehearsing could quell the fire you'd ignited tonight. The game was on, and it was clear you were winning.

When Michael finally wrapped up the rehearsal, he escorted the dancers to the door, his demeanor calm and composed, though you could sense the storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. He watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator, his eyes following them until the doors closed. The click of the lock echoed through the suite as he secured the door for the night.

He turned back to you, leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. The tension in his posture was palpable, yet his voice was deceptively calm as he crooked a finger, beckoning you over. "Come here."

You took your time, savoring the last sip of your juice before setting the glass down on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it on the wood. You stood and walked over to him, your eyes never leaving his, the distance between you closing with each step until you were just a breath away.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice soft, almost innocent, though the challenge in your eyes was anything but.

Michael's gaze traveled slowly down your body, then back up to meet your eyes. "What were you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low, simmering with restrained frustration.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean? I just came in to watch."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in his expression. "Dressed like this? In your nightgown?" His voice was sharp, each word edged with the accusation you knew he was holding back.

You met his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin. "It's late at night, Michael. What do you expect? You should have rehearsed earlier instead of the ass-crack of midnight," you shot back, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Michael's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Watch your damn mouth," he hissed, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

You shrugged again, your expression daring him to make good on his warning. "You gonna make me?" you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "You've been doing all this talk, but where's the action? Saying you're going to do this to me, do that to me, but where's all the follow-through? Hmm?"

Michael's eyes darkened further, his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface as he bit the inside of his cheek, a vain attempt to rein in the storm brewing within him. The fire in his gaze told you that you were pushing him, maybe even further than he could handle. The tension between you was almost unbearable, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment. His restraint was admirable, but you could see it fraying, and it was only a matter of time before it unraveled completely, releasing something far more intense.

"What?" you taunted, your voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're just going to stand there and look at me like that? Fine, I'll just go to bed then." You turned on your heel, making a move to leave, but Michael's hand shot out, his grip firm as he pulled you back, your body colliding with his. The heat of his frustration and desire radiated off him in waves, and for a moment, all you could feel was the intense thrum of his heartbeat against your own.

"What's your issue?" he demanded, his voice low, gravelly, tinged with the barely restrained anger that you'd stirred up in him.

You met his gaze, your expression unyielding, even as your pulse quickened under his touch. "What's your issue?" you countered, raising a brow, your tone defiant.

Michael's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your arm just enough to make you gasp. "Stop acting like this," he growled, his voice laced with a warning that you were all too eager to ignore.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, your eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. The smirk on your lips was enough to push him even closer to the edge, and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes—the battle between his desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in.

For a moment, Michael just stared at you, his eyes raking over your form as if undressing you with his gaze alone. He licked his lips, his frustration giving way to something darker, something more primal. He released his grip on your arm, but before you could step back, his voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

A smile curled on your lips as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, the anticipation thrumming in your veins. Michael reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive tenderness. "Open your mouth," he whispered, his voice a dark promise of what was to come.

You obeyed, parting your lips for him, your gaze locked onto his as you looked up, awaiting his next move. Slowly, deliberately, he eased his four fingers into your mouth, his other hand cradling the back of your head as he pushed them deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers making your eyes water as you fought to accommodate him.

"You're going to stop teasing me, right?" he murmured, his voice dark and laced with a dangerous edge. "Stop acting up when I'm working? Because that's what you seem to keep doing."

The weight of his fingers in your mouth made it difficult to respond, but you nodded as best you could, your eyes watering further as he pulled your head up slightly, forcing you to gag on his fingers. The involuntary reaction sent a shudder through your body, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, his voice sharp as he applied just a bit more pressure.

You nodded again, the movement constrained by the tight grip he had on you.

"Will you stop?" he pressed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded once more, your eyes pleading, though the defiant spark hadn't entirely left them. Michael smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he watched you, the power dynamic between you crystal clear.

"I don't know if I believe you," he murmured, his voice thick with suspicion and a hint of amusement.

A whimper escaped your throat, your eyes wide and filled with pleading as you gazed up at him, desperate for some form of release, though you knew you were far from done playing this game. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of your actions bearing down on you, the consequences of your teasing unfolding in real-time. The smirk on his lips only grew, and you knew that you were in for exactly what you had been provoking all night.

Michael's gaze darkened further, his breath catching as he felt the tension between you both mounting. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound, every movement magnified in the charged atmosphere you'd both created. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips in a gentle caress that belied the intensity burning in his eyes. He tapped the side of your face lightly, and you obediently closed your mouth, the teasing smile still playing at the corners of your lips as you held his gaze.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice stern, commanding.

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared him down, the flames of desire flickering between you, growing hotter with each passing second. Michael advanced on you, his presence overwhelming, forcing you to retreat step by step until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. You fell back, your eyes never leaving his as he loomed over you, his expression unreadable, a mix of controlled fury and unspoken need.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated only for a moment, letting the tension stretch before you reached up and slowly pulled down the straps of your nightgown, your eyes locked on his as you revealed yourself to him. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your waist before you let it drop completely, leaving you bare before him. The warmth of the room caressed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Michael's gaze as he devoured every inch of you with his eyes.

Michael stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he loosened his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. But before it could settle, you grabbed it, wrapping it around your neck with a playful grin, holding the ends in your hands as you looked up at him through your lashes. "What are you going to do to me?" you asked, your voice a sultry whisper as you spread your legs, inviting him in.

Michael's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of you before returning to your face. He moved in, standing between your legs, his large hand cupping your face, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him. The raw power he held over you was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he raised a brow, challenging you to push him further.

Your hand trailed up his thigh, brushing over his growing erection, feeling the heat radiating through his slacks. He groaned at your touch, his jaw tightening as you gave him a teasing squeeze. "You've been stressed," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of sympathy and seduction, knowing full well the effect you were having on him.

Michael's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident in the way his breath hitched. "I know I have. I've been busy working," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control.

You leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper as you teased, "Lose the stress." Then, without warning, you turned around on the sofa, presenting yourself to him on all fours, your back arched provocatively. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

Michael's control snapped. He moved in, pressing his body against yours, his arousal grinding into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling you back into him. He started to dry thrust against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his other hand settled on the small of your back, holding you in place. "I will," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "But you've been teasing me, and I think it's time for me to tease back."

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, each one pushing you closer to the edge as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs, soaking through his slacks. The pressure of his bulge against your bare core was maddening, heightening your need with every movement, but he held back, refusing to give you the release you craved.

"You don't like when I tease you, do you?" he asked, his voice laced with a dark amusement, enjoying the power he held over you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of his touch, the heat of his fingers searing a path down your spine. "I do," you panted, the words coming out breathy, laced with the challenge you knew he couldn't resist. Glancing back at him, your eyes burned with a fiery determination, a silent dare that you knew would ignite something uncontrollable in him. The moment your words left your lips, you saw it—the final shred of restraint in his gaze snapping, his pupils darkening to pools of raw desire. His body, taut and coiled like a predator ready to strike, trembled with the need to claim you, to make you his in a way that left no room for doubt.

Michael's grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you back against his chest, the heat of his body searing into your skin. The press of his solid form against your back made your breath hitch, the raw power in his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm and teasing as it ghosted over the sensitive skin. "Keep playing with me," he growled low, the words a heated promise that made your knees weak, "and you'll get exactly what you're asking for." The threat in his voice was underscored by the flick of his tongue, tracing a tantalizing path up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you whimper.

"Stop teasing..." you whimpered, the words slipping out involuntarily as you leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

His hand moved lower, the pads of his fingers brushing over the slick folds of your core, a featherlight touch that had your body arching into him, silently begging for more. "Payback, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver straight to your core. "Can't I have a little fun too? After all, you came out here dressed in something only I should see." His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, the fleeting contact making you gasp before he pulled away, leaving you trembling and aching for more.

"Michael, please..." The plea left your lips in a breathless rush, the need coursing through your veins becoming unbearable.

In response, Michael's mouth found your neck, his lips brushing against your skin before sinking in to leave a heated, wet trail that burned with every touch. His hand traveled back up your body, his touch deliberate, almost possessive, until he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your hardened nipple. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his grip made your head spin, your body aching with the intensity of your desire.

His kisses grew more urgent, a mix of soft and rough that left your skin tingling, the wet spots he left behind a mark of his claim. You could feel his teeth graze against your flesh, adding to the delicious torment, each kiss fanning the flames of the fire he had ignited within you.

"Where do you want to do this?" Michael whispered against your ear, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to take you right here, on the floor, in the bedroom... or should we go out on the balcony?" His breath hitched as he nipped at your earlobe, "I'll have you screaming my name all over this city. Let them know just how good I can please my wife."

A needy moan escaped your lips, the thought of being at his mercy in the open air, the night sky above and the city below, sent a thrill through you. "I don't care," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I just want you."

Michael released his grip on your hair and breast, stepping back slightly as he commanded, "Stay here." The absence of his touch left you whimpering, your body yearning for more.

You watched as he strode over to the balcony door, the anticipation building in your chest. With a swift motion, he slid the door open, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the heat of the room. The wind blew through his hair as he stepped out, surveying the city below. He turned back to you, his eyes dark and filled with intent. "Come here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You stood, your legs trembling as you walked over to him, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, sending another shiver down your spine. Michael's gaze lingered on you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed body. He turned his head, glancing over to the piano, where your heels rested. With a calculated step, he walked over and grabbed them, bringing them back to you. "Put these on," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want your feet getting messed up."

You slipped on the heels, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of your skin, your body bare except for the tie still draped around your neck. "Michael, it's cold out there..." you said, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension as you looked out onto the balcony.

Michael shrugged, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and desire. "I don't care," he said, his voice unwavering.

"But Michael, it's—" Your protest was cut off as his hand wrapped around your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you close, the sudden pressure sending a shock of arousal through your body. "I don't care," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Either you let me fuck you on this balcony, or you're not getting anything."

You nodded quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you breathed out, "Yes, Michael..."

With a satisfied smirk, Michael released his hold on you, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you walk outside onto the balcony. The cool air nipped at your skin, but the heat of your desire burned hotter, pushing away any discomfort. You dropped to your knees before him, the hard surface of the balcony pressing into your skin as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of need and anticipation.

Michael moved closer, his eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity that made the world around you seem to vanish. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a faint glow across the balcony, but all you could focus on was him—the way his body radiated heat, the way his breath hitched as you roamed your hands up his clothed thighs.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with anticipation as your fingers traced over the fabric of his slacks, feeling the heat of him beneath.

His response was silent, a slow, deliberate nod. His hand found the top of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a tender, almost possessive caress. His eyes never left yours, dark and heavy with desire, as he watched you undo his slacks, the tension between you building with every second. You pulled the fabric down just enough to reveal the strained bulge behind his linen briefs, the outline of him achingly clear.

Your hand slipped inside, wrapping around his hard, throbbing length. The moment you touched him, you could feel the heat, the pulsing veins that ran along his shaft, each one a testament to the hunger coursing through him. His tip, swollen and slick with precum, glistened in the low light as you pulled him free, the thick skin taut over his aching need.

Michael's hand rested atop yours, guiding your movements as the two of you stroked him in unison. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the tension in his body palpable as you flicked your tongue out, teasing the sensitive tip. The taste of him was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made your body hum with anticipation.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, savoring the taste as you ran your tongue over the bead of precum that lingered on his tip. "You taste good," you murmured, your lips curling into a playful smile as you bit your bottom lip, your gaze locked onto his.

Michael smirked in response, his thumb brushing gently over your lip before watching it fall back into place. "Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As you both continued to stroke him, his length grew harder, the tension in his body intensifying with each movement. You could feel him throb in your hands, the need in him rising as you lowered your head and flicked your tongue around his tip, tasting every bit of him. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, sucking lightly at first, teasing him with the soft press of your lips as your tongue swirled around his length.

His hand tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm pressure as he watched you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The lights from the city bathed his face in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the raw hunger in his eyes. "Just like that, baby," he praised, his voice husky, strained with the effort of keeping control. "You're doing so good."

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, spurring you on as you took him deeper, your mouth stretching around him as you began to bob your head, taking him further with each pass. The feeling of his hard length sliding over your tongue, the way he pulsed in your mouth, filled you with a heady sense of power.

Michael's hands slid to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he let you take control, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Your lips moved down, inch by inch, until you had taken him to the base, your mouth full of him as your tongue traced the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his shaft. You could feel the way his body reacted, the way he shuddered with pleasure as you pulled back, sucking hard on his sensitive tip before plunging down again.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he watched you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. The raw power of his desire sent waves of heat through you, your own body aching for him as you continued to suck him, each movement drawing him closer to the edge.

You felt him throb in your mouth, his body tensing as he neared the brink, but he didn't let go—his hands guiding you, his hips thrusting ever so slightly as you worked him deeper and deeper, your mouth and tongue driving him wild with every flick and swirl. The balcony seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the quiet sounds of the city nothing compared to the heat that crackled between you.

The taste of him, the way he filled your mouth, was overwhelming, pushing you to give him everything, to bring him to the peak and feel him unravel completely in your hands—and in your mouth.

Michael's grip tightened on your head, fingers threading through your hair as he thrust harder, the slick sound of your saliva filling the air as it dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. Each stroke of his hips was forceful, deliberate, pushing deeper into your mouth until you could feel his tip grazing the back of your throat with every movement. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you gagged lightly, the sensation sending shivers through your body as you held onto his thighs for balance.

"Good girl," Michael groaned, his voice low and thick with pleasure as he watched you take him, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva glistening on your skin. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tightening around him as he thrust even harder, his pace quickening. The heat between you was unbearable, the tension building as he moved faster, his length driving deeper into your mouth, your body trembling from the intensity of it. You gagged again, the sound muffled around him as he pulled out slightly, only to ram himself back into your throat with even more force.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the pleasure. You let your jaw go slack, relaxing your throat as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely, letting him use you.

Tears welled in your eyes, the pressure building as he moved with a desperate urgency, his hips bucking against your face, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands. You gazed up at him, your eyes watery, cheeks flushed, feeling every pulse, every throb of his cock as he neared his climax.

A heavy groan ripped from his throat, his body trembling as his grip tightened on your hair. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, thrusting deep one final time, his cock buried in your throat as he released, the warmth of his seed filling your mouth in thick, hot spurts.

"Just like that, baby. Take it all," he whispered, his voice ragged with pleasure. You swallowed, your throat working around him as you took every last drop, your body shuddering with the effort as you didn't waste a single bit.

As he slowly pulled out, his breathing still heavy, he reached down and wiped your lips, his thumb brushing over your chin. Without a word, he eased his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck the last remnants from his skin, the taste lingering on your tongue as you gazed up at him, your lips still parted.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slid it between his own lips, sucking it clean with a satisfied groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now get up," he said, his eyes flashing with renewed hunger. "I'm not done with you yet."

Michael pulled you to your feet with a fluid motion, pressing you tightly against him, your chest flush against his. His hands roamed down your waist, gripping you possessively as he gazed over your body. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm as his eyes devoured every inch of you before meeting your gaze, the heat between you palpable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need, as you reached up to gently brush a stray curl from his face.

A slow smile curled on his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek before he leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "I love you more," he murmured, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But bend over for me," he added, loosening his grip on your waist. "I told you I'm not done."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you walked to the edge of the balcony, your heels clicking against the cool concrete beneath you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against your skin as you bent over, your chest pressing into the thick, stone railing. Michael's footsteps echoed behind you, and the warmth of his presence filled the space as he came to stand behind you.

You wiggled your hips, teasing him, feeling his gaze burn into you. "You're such a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

"I know," you replied, casting a coy glance over your shoulder. "I like what I do."

A low chuckle rumbled from him as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "I can't stand you," he murmured, though the affection in his voice betrayed his words.

"Neither can I," you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Michael dropped to his knees behind you, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed over your folds, and you shivered in anticipation. "Wider," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You obediently spread your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands roamed over the back of your thighs, warm and rough, before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

"Oh, Michael," you moaned, your voice trembling as you arched against the railing. His tongue danced over your sensitive clit, teasing and flicking, before he wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly. The world outside seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, his mouth working magic against you.

His hum of approval vibrated against you, and you gasped as his tongue slid inside you, sending a shock of pleasure through your core. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the railing, your head falling back as you moaned into the cool night air, the sound echoing into the darkness.

Michael's hands gripped your behind, kneading the flesh before bringing one hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the night. "Fuck, Michael!" you cried out, the sting of his palm intensifying the pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers slid inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping slowly, each stroke deliberate as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, standing up behind you, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling under his touch. The lights from the city reflected off the balcony, casting a soft glow across your face as you felt him press closer, his presence overwhelming.

Michael leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, your moans vibrating against his mouth. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own essence, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin. His free hand roamed up your back, fingers curling around the tie still hanging loosely from your neck.

With a firm pull, he tightened the tie just enough to pull you back against him, the pressure making your breath hitch. "Fuck..." you breathed, the heat between your bodies reaching a fever pitch.

"You can take it, princess," he murmured against your ear, his fingers inside you now moving faster, thrusting with a relentless pace. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity.

"Michael, I'm close..." you moaned, your voice desperate, pleading as your body ached for release.

"Just a little longer, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm almost done."

You whined, your entire body shaking as you gripped the railing tighter, your legs quivering from the strain. The pressure was building, overwhelming, and you felt yourself on the edge, begging for that final push over. "Michael, please..."

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your waist as you tossed an arm back, wrapping it around his neck, your body desperate for more contact. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "This is what you wanted, right?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a final thrust of his fingers, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body convulsing as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Michael held you firmly in his grasp, his strong arms anchoring you to him as your legs gave out beneath you. Your trembling body shuddered violently in his embrace, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you struggled to remain standing. His grip was unyielding, his hands tight around your waist, ensuring you didn't fall apart completely as the overwhelming waves of pleasure continued to crash through you.

"Michael, please," you gasped, your voice cracking with the weight of your release. "I can't hold it any longer..."

His lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath making you weak all over again. "Let go," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a hunger that sent another shiver down your spine.

At his command, the last bit of tension within you unraveled like a taut string finally snapping. Your release rushed forward with an intensity that felt almost magical—like a spell, impossible to resist, cast upon you by the one man who knew your body better than anyone else. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing into the night as your release dripped down your thighs and his hand, soaking his fingers.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, the warmth of his breath adding to the fire that still burned inside you. His voice was a smooth murmur, soothing and encouraging. "Let it all out for me."

Your legs shook uncontrollably, your knees buckling as the overwhelming pleasure took control of every muscle in your body. "M-Michael," you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you gasped for breath. "I-I can't take it..."

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending vibrations through you. "You can," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you aching and empty. "And you will."

Your body trembled as he lightly pushed you forward, guiding you to bend over the balcony railing. The cool air hit your flushed skin, contrasting with the burning heat between your legs. His hand moved to the back of your neck, gripping it with firm but gentle authority. You whimpered softly as he released your neck, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

Every touch, every caress, felt electric, and the anticipation that followed each gesture made your body ache with need. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch with a fire that only he could ignite—a fire that would only be quenched by him.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, his voice a low whisper in your ear. "You want more, baby?" he asked, his words dripping with sensuality. "Because I can go all night... and you know this."

You nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to form words. "Y-Yes, Michael..." you whimpered, your body trembling with desire, desperate for him to fill the void he had created.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood back up, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Whatever my baby wants, she gets."

His hand wrapped around his hardened length, and you couldn't help but watch over your shoulder as he brushed the swollen, glistening tip against your soaked folds. The teasing, the slight pressure of his tip pushing just inside before retreating again, drove you mad with need.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need you... Please."

His smirk widened as he teased you again, pushing just the tip in before pulling out, keeping you on the edge, building the tension inside you once more. "I know, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with control and desire. "And you're gonna get exactly what you need."

Michael's smirk deepened as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for more, for all of him. The teasing had driven you to the edge, and now the burn of anticipation was almost unbearable. His eyes were dark and intense, his gaze locked onto yours as he let a slow drop of saliva fall onto his shaft, the slickness adding to the heat between you. "Be patient," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, making your breath hitch.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling as you felt him slowly start to press into you. Inch by inch, his thickness stretched you, filling you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness making you gasp as your walls squeezed around him, struggling to accommodate his size. Your body responded instantly, your muscles tensing as you moaned out, the sound raw and desperate.

He pushed deeper, each inch filling you further, until he was buried to the hilt, his length pulsing inside of you. "Damn..." Michael breathed, his voice rough with arousal. The sight of your bodies connected, his thick shaft disappearing into your slick heat, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight grip of your walls around him, his breath coming in heavy pants.

You tried to reach back, your fingers brushing his skin in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but Michael quickly caught your hand. His grip was firm, his eyes narrowing as he placed your hand back on the railing. "Move your hand," he ordered, his tone firm but laced with heat. "I'll move when I know you're ready."

His words sent a shiver through you, the tension building again as your body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just enough to make you feel the loss before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. His hands were everywhere—possessive, demanding, claiming every inch of your body as his. Each touch sent sparks of electricity down your spine, the sensation of his rough palms on your skin intoxicating.

Michael's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he adjusted your position, arching your back even further, opening you up for him completely. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at where your bodies met. The sight of your slick arousal coating his length drove him wild, a primal need taking over as he watched your body respond to him so perfectly.

Every inch of your body drove him wild, but it wasn't just that—it was the entirety of who you were that unraveled him. The tenderness in your touch, how your fingers would skim over his skin as if you knew just where he needed to be soothed. The way your lips found his, so soft and searching in moments of quiet, whispered love. And the way you looked at him—like he was your world, like nothing else mattered. Those moments had stitched themselves into his heart, every tiny piece of you becoming a part of him, and now, as he moved within you, he poured all that he felt into each thrust, a rhythm woven with emotion.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice trembling with want, "I want it all, stop being so soft."

His grip tightened on your waist, rough hands securing your body as he slowly slid out, teasing you with a deliberate slowness before driving back in with a powerful, unrestrained thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Each thrust was forceful, his body pushing deep inside you until it felt like he was touching the very core of your being. Your legs trembled, and you instinctively reached back to grasp him, needing that connection, but he was quicker. His hand clamped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, owning you in that moment.

"Michael, I—" you whimpered, but your words faltered, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Use your words, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I can't hear you."

"I can't take it," you managed to gasp, pleading, your breath hitching with every thrust.

His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as his thrusts grew more intense, each one a deep, visceral pulse. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, lips grazing your neck as he whispered, "Yes, you can, baby. You can always take it."

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you, and you moaned, needing more, craving the fullness of him. The wind had picked up, stirring the night air, and raindrops began to fall, light at first, a gentle mist that kissed your skin. But then the sky opened up, drenching you both as the storm unleashed itself, the cool water cascading down your bodies. The rain slicked your skin, making every touch, every thrust feel even more electric, the friction replaced with a primal urgency. But Michael didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop—not until he was done.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he groaned, his voice deep and raw. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer as his hips slammed into you harder and deeper, the tip of him grazing against your cervix with every forceful motion. Your moans turned to desperate cries, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, your body shaking as his name ripped from your throat, the sound lost in the symphony of pouring rain.

The lights from the hotel and the city around you cast a shimmering glow through the rain, painting the night in streaks of gold and silver, the wet pavement gleaming beneath your feet. It was surreal, like the world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of you in that storm.

"Michael, don't stop," you begged, your voice barely audible over the pounding rain, reaching back to him, your hand tangling in his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed and sucked at the soft, tender flesh, his groans vibrating against you. His hands moved, exploring your body, fingers tracing your stomach before gripping your hips once again, pulling you back onto him with an almost desperate need.

His body, slick and hot against yours, felt like fire against your skin, grounding you in a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. The rain poured down relentlessly, drumming on the rooftop, mingling with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together. The cool rainwater was a stark contrast to the heat between you, soaking your clothes until they clung to your form, heavy and almost suffocating, making you feel raw and exposed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color through the sheets of rain, casting glimmers of neon pink, blue, and gold onto your slick skin, but none of it mattered. The only thing real was him—the way he touched you, how his body melded with yours in a primal, unyielding rhythm.

"I love you so much," Michael's voice was hoarse against your ear, a whispered confession as his hand slid slowly up your stomach, lingering over the curve of your ribs before settling around your neck. His fingers pressed lightly at first, just enough for you to feel the power behind them, the possessiveness in his grip.

Your moan was soft, barely audible over the storm, but the intensity behind it told him everything he needed to know. Rain fell on your lashes, blurring the city skyline before you, but Michael was crystal clear, his hair plastered to his face, strands falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with unrelenting focus. His clothes, soaked through, stuck to your bare skin, creating a friction that heightened the raw sensuality of the moment, every slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing through the rain-soaked air. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body on the brink, but something inside you held back, not ready to let go just yet.

"More, Michael, more," you begged, your voice strained, teetering on the edge of desperation as his grip around your throat tightened. You needed it—craved it.

"You beg so beautifully, princess," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. The low, teasing tone of his voice only fueled the fire building inside of you.

You matched his rhythm, your hips thrusting back against him, falling into perfect sync with each heavy movement. The thunder roared in the distance, splitting the sky with a flash of lightning that illuminated the dark terrace in a blinding burst of white. For a second, everything was bathed in light, and you both looked up, mesmerized by the storm's fury before your eyes met again, the tension between you more electric than the storm itself. Michael's grip tightened, pulling you closer, his lips wet from the rain as they crashed into yours, the kiss raw and hungry. You moaned into his mouth, the deep, throaty sound vibrating between your lips as your bodies moved together in perfect, frantic harmony. His tongue danced with yours, every brush sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body, as the storm outside raged on.

Your core burned with an unbearable need for release, and Michael, always in tune with you, knew exactly how close you were. His angle shifted just slightly, but it was enough. His length hit that perfect spot inside you, over and over again, until your legs trembled and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. You kicked off your heels, your bare feet pressing into the slick, wet concrete as you finally let go, the release building inside you until it burst free like a wildfire.

Your moans were muffled against his lips as your body convulsed, trembling with the force of your orgasm, your release coating his length, warm and slick, down to the base. Michael wasn't far behind. You could feel him, his thighs twitching, his body tensing as he gripped your neck even tighter, pushing himself deeper, harder, with one final thrust that sent him over the edge. His release was hot, spilling deep inside you, filling you completely as he groaned into your neck. He continued thrusting through the aftershocks, his body shuddering as he milked every last drop of his release, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

As your bodies stilled, you pulled away from the kiss, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain drenched your faces, dripping from your hair and mingling with the sweat on your skin. "I love you..." you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to stop, Michael."

"I don't either, baby," he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours, his need for you still burning as he kissed you again. His hips moved faster, harder, sending you spiraling into a second climax. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping the railing so hard your nails dug into the metal, while the other hand clawed at his rain-soaked skin.

Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto your lips as your moans caught in your throat. "Let it out, baby," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." His hand came down across your face, a sharp, stinging slap that sent your moans spilling out into the rain, echoing through the night as the storm roared around you.

He started to slow his pace, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, savoring every last moment before he finally pulled out, watching as your combined essence dripped down your inner thighs, glistening in the faint glow of the city lights.

Michael stepped back, his chest heaving as he watched you lean heavily against the railing, your body spent, trembling with exhaustion. He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair, his clothes clinging to him as the rain fell harder, turning into tiny pellets that stung against his skin. Without a word, he moved closer, scooping you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Grabbing your heels with his free hand, he turned and sprinted back into the suite, away from the storm.

The door clicked shut behind you both, locking out the chaos of the night as he set your shoes aside and bolted the door. The world outside was a distant roar now, muffled by the thick glass, but the tension still lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He carried you down the hall, your bodies dripping rainwater onto the polished wooden floors as he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the soft, warm lights.

Without a word, Michael gently set you down on the cool marble counter, his eyes scanning your shivering, trembling body for a moment before he turned and walked over to the bathtub. He turned on the water, watching as steam rose from the tub before adding bubbles, the scent of lavender filling the air, calming and soothing. His wet clothes hit the floor in a heap as he stripped down, leaving him bare and beautiful, every muscle defined and gleaming under the light.

He moved back to you, his hands steady as he helped you off the counter and guided you into the warm, inviting water. You sank into the bubbles with a sigh, feeling the heat soothe your aching muscles as Michael slid in behind you, pulling your body against his chest. The water rose around you, covering you both up to your chests, the warmth wrapping around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from the storm still raging outside.

As Michael settled behind you in the bath, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest. His body was a fortress of warmth and strength, a stark contrast to the cool storm still raging outside the windows. The water lapped gently at your skin, the bubbles clinging to your damp hair as you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but it held a trace of concern. His hands traced slow circles on your stomach, soothing the trembling that still lingered in your body.

"More than okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That was... I can't even describe it."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back. "Yeah? You took everything I gave you like the perfect little princess you are." His lips brushed against your temple, and you could feel the pride in his tone, mingled with a possessiveness that made your heart race all over again.

Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of the bath, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine despite the heat. "I love it when you call me that," you murmured, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Makes me feel like I'm yours."

He chuckled again, this time deeper, more primal. "You are mine, princess. You know that." His grip tightened around you, his hands moving slowly up your torso until one hand rested on your chest, the other trailing back to your neck. He held you there, not tightly, but with enough pressure to remind you who was in control. "I never want you to forget it."

"I won't," you promised, your voice a little breathless now as his fingers brushed over your skin, teasing you despite the calm of the bath.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the rain outside now distant, a faint backdrop to the quiet intimacy you shared. His hand dipped back down to your waist, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip under the water, making your breath hitch.

"Tell me," Michael said after a long pause, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want right now."

You bit your lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your eyes half-closed. The feel of his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin was driving you insane. "I just want more of you," you whispered. "I don't want tonight to end."

His lips grazed your ear, a teasing warmth that sent a wave of heat flooding your body again. "More of me?" he murmured, his voice dark with amusement. "Didn't I just give you all of me out there in the rain?"

You smiled lazily, your body relaxing more against his. "You know it's never enough with you, Michael. I could drown in you and still want more."

He let out a low growl, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Damn, baby, you're making it hard for me to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," you teased, turning your head just enough so you could meet his gaze, your lips brushing his as you spoke. "I don't want you to hold back."

Michael's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand sliding back up to your throat, this time gripping a little tighter. "Careful what you wish for, princess."

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," you whispered, daring him with a playful smile.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy against your cheek. Then, without warning, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like he needed to claim you all over again.

You moaned into his mouth, the heat between you reigniting in an instant, the warmth of the bath doing little to quell the fire sparking between your bodies. His hand stayed firm on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, while his other hand wandered under the water, teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"Michael..." you gasped between kisses, your hands reaching behind you to grip his thighs as you arched against him. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to murmur the words against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside me again," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you under the water. "You're so greedy, baby," he growled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But that's okay. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Before you could respond, Michael's hand slid between your thighs, the warmth of the water only intensifying the sudden jolt of pleasure. His touch was deliberate, confident, parting your legs as he pulled you into his lap. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him press against you, the anticipation building with every passing second. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushed inside you, the water rippling in response to the agonizing slowness of his movements.

"Is this what you wanted, princess?" he whispered, his voice husky as his lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His words hung heavy in the steamy air, a dark promise wrapped in desire. "Is this what you've been begging for?"

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your head falling back to rest against his broad shoulder. The world seemed to melt away as your body trembled beneath his touch, completely at his mercy. "More... don't stop..."

His hands tightened around your waist, a possessive grip as he began to move within you. The pace was deliberate, slow, but unyielding—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The soft splash of water echoed in the quiet, mingling with your breathless gasps, creating a rhythm only the two of you shared. Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing through the windows, but it felt distant, as if nothing else existed except this—the closeness, the intensity, the moment.

Michael's lips found your temple, brushing softly against your skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words like a vow sealed between you. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

Your moan was a soft, involuntary response, your fingers digging into his thighs, grounding you as you surrendered to him completely. The steady, unrelenting rhythm of his body against yours filled your senses, each movement an intoxicating blend of pleasure and intimacy. "I love you too," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

The night stretched on, the storm outside now a faint hum in the background as you and Michael moved together like two wild creatures, lost in your own world. His touch was insistent, his need palpable, and you gave in to every moment, every sensation, as he released his pent-up stress and you reveled in the pleasure that consumed you both. Time blurred, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—wanted, loved, and utterly alive.

With a sigh, you gripped the remote and turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise from the main room. The television blared, but it was barely a match for the music and the sharp edge in Michael's tone as he barked out instructions to the dancers. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the way it cracked like a whip through the air.

Suddenly, the music cut off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet before Michael slipped inside. His usually well-kept curls were in disarray, his tie hung loose around his neck, and one of his sleeves was still buttoned as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you.

"Can you turn that down, please?" His voice was strained, almost pleading, but it held a firmness that warned against defiance.

You didn't say anything, just reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the room now thick with unspoken tension.

"Thank you," Michael murmured before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a reminder of the growing distance between you.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the way he'd been acting gnawing at you. You were done tiptoeing around him. Without hesitation, you clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside, throwing the covers back with a decisive flick. As you rose, your reflection caught your eye in the mirror, the black satin of your nightgown clinging to every curve, a silent testament to the power you still held over him.

You reached up, fingers brushing through your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders in a soft cascade. With one last glance in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door, the music immediately assaulting your senses once more.

Your footsteps were muffled against the plush cream-colored carpet as you made your way down the hall. When you reached the main room, your bare feet met the cool surface of the hardwood floor, grounding you as you took in the scene before you. Michael was in the middle of the room, his movements sharp and precise as he demonstrated choreography to Jeffery and Gregg. But the moment you entered, their focus shifted, eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and something far less innocent.

"Damn, Mrs. J," Jeffery muttered, his voice dripping with appreciation.

Gregg let out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, instantly drawing Michael's attention.

His gaze snapped to you, narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Baby, what are you doing out here dressed like that? Go back to the room," he commanded, his tone a mix of protective concern and simmering irritation.

Ignoring his words, you sauntered across the room, feeling the weight of their stares on you. You sank into the plush sofa, crossing your legs slowly, the satin of your gown shifting with the movement. "I just came to watch," you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's not like I'll be a distraction."

Michael's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his composure. He looked away from you, a storm brewing in his dark eyes as he clapped his hands together sharply, drawing the others' attention back to him. "We don't have all night," he snapped, his voice a dangerous edge. "Let's get to work, and quit eyeing my wife."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, their tones subdued, though you could still feel their lingering gazes.

As the music surged back to life, you leaned deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, savoring the heat that curled in your chest. The satisfaction of knowing you had his attention, the way his eyes flickered back to you despite his attempts to stay focused, sent a thrill through you. You weren't about to let that go—not tonight.

Your gaze followed his every move, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. The way his hips swayed in time with the beat, the sharpness of his spins, the precise snap of his fingers—it all spoke of control, discipline, and a deep, simmering passion. But there was also a wildness to him tonight, the way his half-untucked shirt clung to his torso, how the damp air clung to his curls, making them even wilder. Despite the chill of a November night in New York, the heat in the room was palpable, a testament to the intensity with which he worked.

Michael turned to speak to the dancers, his voice authoritative, though his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary before he forced himself to look away.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that curled your lips as you slid your feet up onto the couch, reclining in a way that accentuated the curve of your body. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let one of the straps of your satin nightgown slip down your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. The moment it fell, his attention snapped back to you, the frustration clear in the tight line of his mouth. You winked at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenched in response. He was trying to maintain his composure, especially in front of his colleagues, but you knew you were getting to him.

Determined to keep the game going, you called his name, your voice a sultry purr that sliced through the music. "Michael..."

He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with exasperation and something darker as he turned to face you. "Yes, doll?" he asked, his tone betraying a careful restraint.

"I'm thirsty," you said, your voice laced with innocent mischief. "Could you get me a glass of juice?"

Michael's eyes darkened, a silent warning that you were treading on thin ice. "You two keep working. I'll be back," he told the dancers, his voice clipped as he walked off toward the kitchenette. The sharp sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut punctuated the tension in the air.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine—a mix of anger and desire burning beneath the surface. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. "Here," he said, the word barely more than a growl.

You looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you accepted the juice. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, your tone sweet and saccharine.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Keep going, and I won't be nice after I'm finished rehearsing." His hand cupped your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You held his stare, your smile widening as you felt a delicious thrill run through you. "I'd like that," you replied with a soft chuckle, your voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver visibly ran through him, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he sighed deeply, releasing your chin and pulling back. Without another word, he returned to the dancers, his movements sharp and deliberate, though there was a new tension in his body. You could tell you were getting to him, unraveling that tight control he always prided himself on.

As you sipped your orange juice, your eyes locked onto Michael, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Every move he made was laced with tension, his body more charged, more deliberate, as if he was trying to shake off the effect you had on him. But you knew better. No amount of rehearsing could quell the fire you'd ignited tonight. The game was on, and it was clear you were winning.

When Michael finally wrapped up the rehearsal, he escorted the dancers to the door, his demeanor calm and composed, though you could sense the storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. He watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator, his eyes following them until the doors closed. The click of the lock echoed through the suite as he secured the door for the night.

He turned back to you, leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. The tension in his posture was palpable, yet his voice was deceptively calm as he crooked a finger, beckoning you over. "Come here."

You took your time, savoring the last sip of your juice before setting the glass down on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it on the wood. You stood and walked over to him, your eyes never leaving his, the distance between you closing with each step until you were just a breath away.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice soft, almost innocent, though the challenge in your eyes was anything but.

Michael's gaze traveled slowly down your body, then back up to meet your eyes. "What were you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low, simmering with restrained frustration.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean? I just came in to watch."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in his expression. "Dressed like this? In your nightgown?" His voice was sharp, each word edged with the accusation you knew he was holding back.

You met his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin. "It's late at night, Michael. What do you expect? You should have rehearsed earlier instead of the ass-crack of midnight," you shot back, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Michael's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Watch your damn mouth," he hissed, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

You shrugged again, your expression daring him to make good on his warning. "You gonna make me?" you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "You've been doing all this talk, but where's the action? Saying you're going to do this to me, do that to me, but where's all the follow-through? Hmm?"

Michael's eyes darkened further, his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface as he bit the inside of his cheek, a vain attempt to rein in the storm brewing within him. The fire in his gaze told you that you were pushing him, maybe even further than he could handle. The tension between you was almost unbearable, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment. His restraint was admirable, but you could see it fraying, and it was only a matter of time before it unraveled completely, releasing something far more intense.

"What?" you taunted, your voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're just going to stand there and look at me like that? Fine, I'll just go to bed then." You turned on your heel, making a move to leave, but Michael's hand shot out, his grip firm as he pulled you back, your body colliding with his. The heat of his frustration and desire radiated off him in waves, and for a moment, all you could feel was the intense thrum of his heartbeat against your own.

"What's your issue?" he demanded, his voice low, gravelly, tinged with the barely restrained anger that you'd stirred up in him.

You met his gaze, your expression unyielding, even as your pulse quickened under his touch. "What's your issue?" you countered, raising a brow, your tone defiant.

Michael's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your arm just enough to make you gasp. "Stop acting like this," he growled, his voice laced with a warning that you were all too eager to ignore.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, your eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. The smirk on your lips was enough to push him even closer to the edge, and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes—the battle between his desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in.

For a moment, Michael just stared at you, his eyes raking over your form as if undressing you with his gaze alone. He licked his lips, his frustration giving way to something darker, something more primal. He released his grip on your arm, but before you could step back, his voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

A smile curled on your lips as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, the anticipation thrumming in your veins. Michael reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive tenderness. "Open your mouth," he whispered, his voice a dark promise of what was to come.

You obeyed, parting your lips for him, your gaze locked onto his as you looked up, awaiting his next move. Slowly, deliberately, he eased his four fingers into your mouth, his other hand cradling the back of your head as he pushed them deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers making your eyes water as you fought to accommodate him.

"You're going to stop teasing me, right?" he murmured, his voice dark and laced with a dangerous edge. "Stop acting up when I'm working? Because that's what you seem to keep doing."

The weight of his fingers in your mouth made it difficult to respond, but you nodded as best you could, your eyes watering further as he pulled your head up slightly, forcing you to gag on his fingers. The involuntary reaction sent a shudder through your body, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, his voice sharp as he applied just a bit more pressure.

You nodded again, the movement constrained by the tight grip he had on you.

"Will you stop?" he pressed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded once more, your eyes pleading, though the defiant spark hadn't entirely left them. Michael smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he watched you, the power dynamic between you crystal clear.

"I don't know if I believe you," he murmured, his voice thick with suspicion and a hint of amusement.

A whimper escaped your throat, your eyes wide and filled with pleading as you gazed up at him, desperate for some form of release, though you knew you were far from done playing this game. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of your actions bearing down on you, the consequences of your teasing unfolding in real-time. The smirk on his lips only grew, and you knew that you were in for exactly what you had been provoking all night.

Michael's gaze darkened further, his breath catching as he felt the tension between you both mounting. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound, every movement magnified in the charged atmosphere you'd both created. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips in a gentle caress that belied the intensity burning in his eyes. He tapped the side of your face lightly, and you obediently closed your mouth, the teasing smile still playing at the corners of your lips as you held his gaze.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice stern, commanding.

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared him down, the flames of desire flickering between you, growing hotter with each passing second. Michael advanced on you, his presence overwhelming, forcing you to retreat step by step until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. You fell back, your eyes never leaving his as he loomed over you, his expression unreadable, a mix of controlled fury and unspoken need.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated only for a moment, letting the tension stretch before you reached up and slowly pulled down the straps of your nightgown, your eyes locked on his as you revealed yourself to him. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your waist before you let it drop completely, leaving you bare before him. The warmth of the room caressed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Michael's gaze as he devoured every inch of you with his eyes.

Michael stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he loosened his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. But before it could settle, you grabbed it, wrapping it around your neck with a playful grin, holding the ends in your hands as you looked up at him through your lashes. "What are you going to do to me?" you asked, your voice a sultry whisper as you spread your legs, inviting him in.

Michael's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of you before returning to your face. He moved in, standing between your legs, his large hand cupping your face, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him. The raw power he held over you was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he raised a brow, challenging you to push him further.

Your hand trailed up his thigh, brushing over his growing erection, feeling the heat radiating through his slacks. He groaned at your touch, his jaw tightening as you gave him a teasing squeeze. "You've been stressed," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of sympathy and seduction, knowing full well the effect you were having on him.

Michael's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident in the way his breath hitched. "I know I have. I've been busy working," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control.

You leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper as you teased, "Lose the stress." Then, without warning, you turned around on the sofa, presenting yourself to him on all fours, your back arched provocatively. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

Michael's control snapped. He moved in, pressing his body against yours, his arousal grinding into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling you back into him. He started to dry thrust against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his other hand settled on the small of your back, holding you in place. "I will," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "But you've been teasing me, and I think it's time for me to tease back."

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, each one pushing you closer to the edge as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs, soaking through his slacks. The pressure of his bulge against your bare core was maddening, heightening your need with every movement, but he held back, refusing to give you the release you craved.

"You don't like when I tease you, do you?" he asked, his voice laced with a dark amusement, enjoying the power he held over you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of his touch, the heat of his fingers searing a path down your spine. "I do," you panted, the words coming out breathy, laced with the challenge you knew he couldn't resist. Glancing back at him, your eyes burned with a fiery determination, a silent dare that you knew would ignite something uncontrollable in him. The moment your words left your lips, you saw it—the final shred of restraint in his gaze snapping, his pupils darkening to pools of raw desire. His body, taut and coiled like a predator ready to strike, trembled with the need to claim you, to make you his in a way that left no room for doubt.

Michael's grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you back against his chest, the heat of his body searing into your skin. The press of his solid form against your back made your breath hitch, the raw power in his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm and teasing as it ghosted over the sensitive skin. "Keep playing with me," he growled low, the words a heated promise that made your knees weak, "and you'll get exactly what you're asking for." The threat in his voice was underscored by the flick of his tongue, tracing a tantalizing path up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you whimper.

"Stop teasing..." you whimpered, the words slipping out involuntarily as you leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

His hand moved lower, the pads of his fingers brushing over the slick folds of your core, a featherlight touch that had your body arching into him, silently begging for more. "Payback, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver straight to your core. "Can't I have a little fun too? After all, you came out here dressed in something only I should see." His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, the fleeting contact making you gasp before he pulled away, leaving you trembling and aching for more.

"Michael, please..." The plea left your lips in a breathless rush, the need coursing through your veins becoming unbearable.

In response, Michael's mouth found your neck, his lips brushing against your skin before sinking in to leave a heated, wet trail that burned with every touch. His hand traveled back up your body, his touch deliberate, almost possessive, until he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your hardened nipple. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his grip made your head spin, your body aching with the intensity of your desire.

His kisses grew more urgent, a mix of soft and rough that left your skin tingling, the wet spots he left behind a mark of his claim. You could feel his teeth graze against your flesh, adding to the delicious torment, each kiss fanning the flames of the fire he had ignited within you.

"Where do you want to do this?" Michael whispered against your ear, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to take you right here, on the floor, in the bedroom... or should we go out on the balcony?" His breath hitched as he nipped at your earlobe, "I'll have you screaming my name all over this city. Let them know just how good I can please my wife."

A needy moan escaped your lips, the thought of being at his mercy in the open air, the night sky above and the city below, sent a thrill through you. "I don't care," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I just want you."

Michael released his grip on your hair and breast, stepping back slightly as he commanded, "Stay here." The absence of his touch left you whimpering, your body yearning for more.

You watched as he strode over to the balcony door, the anticipation building in your chest. With a swift motion, he slid the door open, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the heat of the room. The wind blew through his hair as he stepped out, surveying the city below. He turned back to you, his eyes dark and filled with intent. "Come here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You stood, your legs trembling as you walked over to him, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, sending another shiver down your spine. Michael's gaze lingered on you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed body. He turned his head, glancing over to the piano, where your heels rested. With a calculated step, he walked over and grabbed them, bringing them back to you. "Put these on," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want your feet getting messed up."

You slipped on the heels, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of your skin, your body bare except for the tie still draped around your neck. "Michael, it's cold out there..." you said, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension as you looked out onto the balcony.

Michael shrugged, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and desire. "I don't care," he said, his voice unwavering.

"But Michael, it's—" Your protest was cut off as his hand wrapped around your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you close, the sudden pressure sending a shock of arousal through your body. "I don't care," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Either you let me fuck you on this balcony, or you're not getting anything."

You nodded quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you breathed out, "Yes, Michael..."

With a satisfied smirk, Michael released his hold on you, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you walk outside onto the balcony. The cool air nipped at your skin, but the heat of your desire burned hotter, pushing away any discomfort. You dropped to your knees before him, the hard surface of the balcony pressing into your skin as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of need and anticipation.

Michael moved closer, his eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity that made the world around you seem to vanish. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a faint glow across the balcony, but all you could focus on was him—the way his body radiated heat, the way his breath hitched as you roamed your hands up his clothed thighs.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with anticipation as your fingers traced over the fabric of his slacks, feeling the heat of him beneath.

His response was silent, a slow, deliberate nod. His hand found the top of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a tender, almost possessive caress. His eyes never left yours, dark and heavy with desire, as he watched you undo his slacks, the tension between you building with every second. You pulled the fabric down just enough to reveal the strained bulge behind his linen briefs, the outline of him achingly clear.

Your hand slipped inside, wrapping around his hard, throbbing length. The moment you touched him, you could feel the heat, the pulsing veins that ran along his shaft, each one a testament to the hunger coursing through him. His tip, swollen and slick with precum, glistened in the low light as you pulled him free, the thick skin taut over his aching need.

Michael's hand rested atop yours, guiding your movements as the two of you stroked him in unison. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the tension in his body palpable as you flicked your tongue out, teasing the sensitive tip. The taste of him was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made your body hum with anticipation.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, savoring the taste as you ran your tongue over the bead of precum that lingered on his tip. "You taste good," you murmured, your lips curling into a playful smile as you bit your bottom lip, your gaze locked onto his.

Michael smirked in response, his thumb brushing gently over your lip before watching it fall back into place. "Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As you both continued to stroke him, his length grew harder, the tension in his body intensifying with each movement. You could feel him throb in your hands, the need in him rising as you lowered your head and flicked your tongue around his tip, tasting every bit of him. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, sucking lightly at first, teasing him with the soft press of your lips as your tongue swirled around his length.

His hand tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm pressure as he watched you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The lights from the city bathed his face in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the raw hunger in his eyes. "Just like that, baby," he praised, his voice husky, strained with the effort of keeping control. "You're doing so good."

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, spurring you on as you took him deeper, your mouth stretching around him as you began to bob your head, taking him further with each pass. The feeling of his hard length sliding over your tongue, the way he pulsed in your mouth, filled you with a heady sense of power.

Michael's hands slid to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he let you take control, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Your lips moved down, inch by inch, until you had taken him to the base, your mouth full of him as your tongue traced the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his shaft. You could feel the way his body reacted, the way he shuddered with pleasure as you pulled back, sucking hard on his sensitive tip before plunging down again.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he watched you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. The raw power of his desire sent waves of heat through you, your own body aching for him as you continued to suck him, each movement drawing him closer to the edge.

You felt him throb in your mouth, his body tensing as he neared the brink, but he didn't let go—his hands guiding you, his hips thrusting ever so slightly as you worked him deeper and deeper, your mouth and tongue driving him wild with every flick and swirl. The balcony seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the quiet sounds of the city nothing compared to the heat that crackled between you.

The taste of him, the way he filled your mouth, was overwhelming, pushing you to give him everything, to bring him to the peak and feel him unravel completely in your hands—and in your mouth.

Michael's grip tightened on your head, fingers threading through your hair as he thrust harder, the slick sound of your saliva filling the air as it dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. Each stroke of his hips was forceful, deliberate, pushing deeper into your mouth until you could feel his tip grazing the back of your throat with every movement. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you gagged lightly, the sensation sending shivers through your body as you held onto his thighs for balance.

"Good girl," Michael groaned, his voice low and thick with pleasure as he watched you take him, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva glistening on your skin. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tightening around him as he thrust even harder, his pace quickening. The heat between you was unbearable, the tension building as he moved faster, his length driving deeper into your mouth, your body trembling from the intensity of it. You gagged again, the sound muffled around him as he pulled out slightly, only to ram himself back into your throat with even more force.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the pleasure. You let your jaw go slack, relaxing your throat as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely, letting him use you.

Tears welled in your eyes, the pressure building as he moved with a desperate urgency, his hips bucking against your face, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands. You gazed up at him, your eyes watery, cheeks flushed, feeling every pulse, every throb of his cock as he neared his climax.

A heavy groan ripped from his throat, his body trembling as his grip tightened on your hair. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, thrusting deep one final time, his cock buried in your throat as he released, the warmth of his seed filling your mouth in thick, hot spurts.

"Just like that, baby. Take it all," he whispered, his voice ragged with pleasure. You swallowed, your throat working around him as you took every last drop, your body shuddering with the effort as you didn't waste a single bit.

As he slowly pulled out, his breathing still heavy, he reached down and wiped your lips, his thumb brushing over your chin. Without a word, he eased his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck the last remnants from his skin, the taste lingering on your tongue as you gazed up at him, your lips still parted.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slid it between his own lips, sucking it clean with a satisfied groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now get up," he said, his eyes flashing with renewed hunger. "I'm not done with you yet."

Michael pulled you to your feet with a fluid motion, pressing you tightly against him, your chest flush against his. His hands roamed down your waist, gripping you possessively as he gazed over your body. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm as his eyes devoured every inch of you before meeting your gaze, the heat between you palpable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need, as you reached up to gently brush a stray curl from his face.

A slow smile curled on his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek before he leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "I love you more," he murmured, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But bend over for me," he added, loosening his grip on your waist. "I told you I'm not done."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you walked to the edge of the balcony, your heels clicking against the cool concrete beneath you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against your skin as you bent over, your chest pressing into the thick, stone railing. Michael's footsteps echoed behind you, and the warmth of his presence filled the space as he came to stand behind you.

You wiggled your hips, teasing him, feeling his gaze burn into you. "You're such a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

"I know," you replied, casting a coy glance over your shoulder. "I like what I do."

A low chuckle rumbled from him as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "I can't stand you," he murmured, though the affection in his voice betrayed his words.

"Neither can I," you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Michael dropped to his knees behind you, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed over your folds, and you shivered in anticipation. "Wider," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You obediently spread your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands roamed over the back of your thighs, warm and rough, before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

"Oh, Michael," you moaned, your voice trembling as you arched against the railing. His tongue danced over your sensitive clit, teasing and flicking, before he wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly. The world outside seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, his mouth working magic against you.

His hum of approval vibrated against you, and you gasped as his tongue slid inside you, sending a shock of pleasure through your core. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the railing, your head falling back as you moaned into the cool night air, the sound echoing into the darkness.

Michael's hands gripped your behind, kneading the flesh before bringing one hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the night. "Fuck, Michael!" you cried out, the sting of his palm intensifying the pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers slid inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping slowly, each stroke deliberate as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, standing up behind you, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling under his touch. The lights from the city reflected off the balcony, casting a soft glow across your face as you felt him press closer, his presence overwhelming.

Michael leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, your moans vibrating against his mouth. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own essence, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin. His free hand roamed up your back, fingers curling around the tie still hanging loosely from your neck.

With a firm pull, he tightened the tie just enough to pull you back against him, the pressure making your breath hitch. "Fuck..." you breathed, the heat between your bodies reaching a fever pitch.

"You can take it, princess," he murmured against your ear, his fingers inside you now moving faster, thrusting with a relentless pace. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity.

"Michael, I'm close..." you moaned, your voice desperate, pleading as your body ached for release.

"Just a little longer, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm almost done."

You whined, your entire body shaking as you gripped the railing tighter, your legs quivering from the strain. The pressure was building, overwhelming, and you felt yourself on the edge, begging for that final push over. "Michael, please..."

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your waist as you tossed an arm back, wrapping it around his neck, your body desperate for more contact. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "This is what you wanted, right?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a final thrust of his fingers, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body convulsing as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Michael held you firmly in his grasp, his strong arms anchoring you to him as your legs gave out beneath you. Your trembling body shuddered violently in his embrace, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you struggled to remain standing. His grip was unyielding, his hands tight around your waist, ensuring you didn't fall apart completely as the overwhelming waves of pleasure continued to crash through you.

"Michael, please," you gasped, your voice cracking with the weight of your release. "I can't hold it any longer..."

His lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath making you weak all over again. "Let go," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a hunger that sent another shiver down your spine.

At his command, the last bit of tension within you unraveled like a taut string finally snapping. Your release rushed forward with an intensity that felt almost magical—like a spell, impossible to resist, cast upon you by the one man who knew your body better than anyone else. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing into the night as your release dripped down your thighs and his hand, soaking his fingers.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, the warmth of his breath adding to the fire that still burned inside you. His voice was a smooth murmur, soothing and encouraging. "Let it all out for me."

Your legs shook uncontrollably, your knees buckling as the overwhelming pleasure took control of every muscle in your body. "M-Michael," you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you gasped for breath. "I-I can't take it..."

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending vibrations through you. "You can," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you aching and empty. "And you will."

Your body trembled as he lightly pushed you forward, guiding you to bend over the balcony railing. The cool air hit your flushed skin, contrasting with the burning heat between your legs. His hand moved to the back of your neck, gripping it with firm but gentle authority. You whimpered softly as he released your neck, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

Every touch, every caress, felt electric, and the anticipation that followed each gesture made your body ache with need. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch with a fire that only he could ignite—a fire that would only be quenched by him.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, his voice a low whisper in your ear. "You want more, baby?" he asked, his words dripping with sensuality. "Because I can go all night... and you know this."

You nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to form words. "Y-Yes, Michael..." you whimpered, your body trembling with desire, desperate for him to fill the void he had created.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood back up, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Whatever my baby wants, she gets."

His hand wrapped around his hardened length, and you couldn't help but watch over your shoulder as he brushed the swollen, glistening tip against your soaked folds. The teasing, the slight pressure of his tip pushing just inside before retreating again, drove you mad with need.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need you... Please."

His smirk widened as he teased you again, pushing just the tip in before pulling out, keeping you on the edge, building the tension inside you once more. "I know, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with control and desire. "And you're gonna get exactly what you need."

Michael's smirk deepened as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for more, for all of him. The teasing had driven you to the edge, and now the burn of anticipation was almost unbearable. His eyes were dark and intense, his gaze locked onto yours as he let a slow drop of saliva fall onto his shaft, the slickness adding to the heat between you. "Be patient," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, making your breath hitch.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling as you felt him slowly start to press into you. Inch by inch, his thickness stretched you, filling you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness making you gasp as your walls squeezed around him, struggling to accommodate his size. Your body responded instantly, your muscles tensing as you moaned out, the sound raw and desperate.

He pushed deeper, each inch filling you further, until he was buried to the hilt, his length pulsing inside of you. "Damn..." Michael breathed, his voice rough with arousal. The sight of your bodies connected, his thick shaft disappearing into your slick heat, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight grip of your walls around him, his breath coming in heavy pants.

You tried to reach back, your fingers brushing his skin in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but Michael quickly caught your hand. His grip was firm, his eyes narrowing as he placed your hand back on the railing. "Move your hand," he ordered, his tone firm but laced with heat. "I'll move when I know you're ready."

His words sent a shiver through you, the tension building again as your body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just enough to make you feel the loss before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. His hands were everywhere—possessive, demanding, claiming every inch of your body as his. Each touch sent sparks of electricity down your spine, the sensation of his rough palms on your skin intoxicating.

Michael's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he adjusted your position, arching your back even further, opening you up for him completely. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at where your bodies met. The sight of your slick arousal coating his length drove him wild, a primal need taking over as he watched your body respond to him so perfectly.

Every inch of your body drove him wild, but it wasn't just that—it was the entirety of who you were that unraveled him. The tenderness in your touch, how your fingers would skim over his skin as if you knew just where he needed to be soothed. The way your lips found his, so soft and searching in moments of quiet, whispered love. And the way you looked at him—like he was your world, like nothing else mattered. Those moments had stitched themselves into his heart, every tiny piece of you becoming a part of him, and now, as he moved within you, he poured all that he felt into each thrust, a rhythm woven with emotion.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice trembling with want, "I want it all, stop being so soft."

His grip tightened on your waist, rough hands securing your body as he slowly slid out, teasing you with a deliberate slowness before driving back in with a powerful, unrestrained thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Each thrust was forceful, his body pushing deep inside you until it felt like he was touching the very core of your being. Your legs trembled, and you instinctively reached back to grasp him, needing that connection, but he was quicker. His hand clamped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, owning you in that moment.

"Michael, I—" you whimpered, but your words faltered, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Use your words, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I can't hear you."

"I can't take it," you managed to gasp, pleading, your breath hitching with every thrust.

His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as his thrusts grew more intense, each one a deep, visceral pulse. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, lips grazing your neck as he whispered, "Yes, you can, baby. You can always take it."

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you, and you moaned, needing more, craving the fullness of him. The wind had picked up, stirring the night air, and raindrops began to fall, light at first, a gentle mist that kissed your skin. But then the sky opened up, drenching you both as the storm unleashed itself, the cool water cascading down your bodies. The rain slicked your skin, making every touch, every thrust feel even more electric, the friction replaced with a primal urgency. But Michael didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop—not until he was done.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he groaned, his voice deep and raw. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer as his hips slammed into you harder and deeper, the tip of him grazing against your cervix with every forceful motion. Your moans turned to desperate cries, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, your body shaking as his name ripped from your throat, the sound lost in the symphony of pouring rain.

The lights from the hotel and the city around you cast a shimmering glow through the rain, painting the night in streaks of gold and silver, the wet pavement gleaming beneath your feet. It was surreal, like the world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of you in that storm.

"Michael, don't stop," you begged, your voice barely audible over the pounding rain, reaching back to him, your hand tangling in his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed and sucked at the soft, tender flesh, his groans vibrating against you. His hands moved, exploring your body, fingers tracing your stomach before gripping your hips once again, pulling you back onto him with an almost desperate need.

His body, slick and hot against yours, felt like fire against your skin, grounding you in a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. The rain poured down relentlessly, drumming on the rooftop, mingling with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together. The cool rainwater was a stark contrast to the heat between you, soaking your clothes until they clung to your form, heavy and almost suffocating, making you feel raw and exposed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color through the sheets of rain, casting glimmers of neon pink, blue, and gold onto your slick skin, but none of it mattered. The only thing real was him—the way he touched you, how his body melded with yours in a primal, unyielding rhythm.

"I love you so much," Michael's voice was hoarse against your ear, a whispered confession as his hand slid slowly up your stomach, lingering over the curve of your ribs before settling around your neck. His fingers pressed lightly at first, just enough for you to feel the power behind them, the possessiveness in his grip.

Your moan was soft, barely audible over the storm, but the intensity behind it told him everything he needed to know. Rain fell on your lashes, blurring the city skyline before you, but Michael was crystal clear, his hair plastered to his face, strands falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with unrelenting focus. His clothes, soaked through, stuck to your bare skin, creating a friction that heightened the raw sensuality of the moment, every slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing through the rain-soaked air. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body on the brink, but something inside you held back, not ready to let go just yet.

"More, Michael, more," you begged, your voice strained, teetering on the edge of desperation as his grip around your throat tightened. You needed it—craved it.

"You beg so beautifully, princess," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. The low, teasing tone of his voice only fueled the fire building inside of you.

You matched his rhythm, your hips thrusting back against him, falling into perfect sync with each heavy movement. The thunder roared in the distance, splitting the sky with a flash of lightning that illuminated the dark terrace in a blinding burst of white. For a second, everything was bathed in light, and you both looked up, mesmerized by the storm's fury before your eyes met again, the tension between you more electric than the storm itself. Michael's grip tightened, pulling you closer, his lips wet from the rain as they crashed into yours, the kiss raw and hungry. You moaned into his mouth, the deep, throaty sound vibrating between your lips as your bodies moved together in perfect, frantic harmony. His tongue danced with yours, every brush sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body, as the storm outside raged on.

Your core burned with an unbearable need for release, and Michael, always in tune with you, knew exactly how close you were. His angle shifted just slightly, but it was enough. His length hit that perfect spot inside you, over and over again, until your legs trembled and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. You kicked off your heels, your bare feet pressing into the slick, wet concrete as you finally let go, the release building inside you until it burst free like a wildfire.

Your moans were muffled against his lips as your body convulsed, trembling with the force of your orgasm, your release coating his length, warm and slick, down to the base. Michael wasn't far behind. You could feel him, his thighs twitching, his body tensing as he gripped your neck even tighter, pushing himself deeper, harder, with one final thrust that sent him over the edge. His release was hot, spilling deep inside you, filling you completely as he groaned into your neck. He continued thrusting through the aftershocks, his body shuddering as he milked every last drop of his release, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

As your bodies stilled, you pulled away from the kiss, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain drenched your faces, dripping from your hair and mingling with the sweat on your skin. "I love you..." you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to stop, Michael."

"I don't either, baby," he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours, his need for you still burning as he kissed you again. His hips moved faster, harder, sending you spiraling into a second climax. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping the railing so hard your nails dug into the metal, while the other hand clawed at his rain-soaked skin.

Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto your lips as your moans caught in your throat. "Let it out, baby," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." His hand came down across your face, a sharp, stinging slap that sent your moans spilling out into the rain, echoing through the night as the storm roared around you.

He started to slow his pace, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, savoring every last moment before he finally pulled out, watching as your combined essence dripped down your inner thighs, glistening in the faint glow of the city lights.

Michael stepped back, his chest heaving as he watched you lean heavily against the railing, your body spent, trembling with exhaustion. He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair, his clothes clinging to him as the rain fell harder, turning into tiny pellets that stung against his skin. Without a word, he moved closer, scooping you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Grabbing your heels with his free hand, he turned and sprinted back into the suite, away from the storm.

The door clicked shut behind you both, locking out the chaos of the night as he set your shoes aside and bolted the door. The world outside was a distant roar now, muffled by the thick glass, but the tension still lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He carried you down the hall, your bodies dripping rainwater onto the polished wooden floors as he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the soft, warm lights.

Without a word, Michael gently set you down on the cool marble counter, his eyes scanning your shivering, trembling body for a moment before he turned and walked over to the bathtub. He turned on the water, watching as steam rose from the tub before adding bubbles, the scent of lavender filling the air, calming and soothing. His wet clothes hit the floor in a heap as he stripped down, leaving him bare and beautiful, every muscle defined and gleaming under the light.

He moved back to you, his hands steady as he helped you off the counter and guided you into the warm, inviting water. You sank into the bubbles with a sigh, feeling the heat soothe your aching muscles as Michael slid in behind you, pulling your body against his chest. The water rose around you, covering you both up to your chests, the warmth wrapping around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from the storm still raging outside.

As Michael settled behind you in the bath, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest. His body was a fortress of warmth and strength, a stark contrast to the cool storm still raging outside the windows. The water lapped gently at your skin, the bubbles clinging to your damp hair as you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but it held a trace of concern. His hands traced slow circles on your stomach, soothing the trembling that still lingered in your body.

"More than okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That was... I can't even describe it."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back. "Yeah? You took everything I gave you like the perfect little princess you are." His lips brushed against your temple, and you could feel the pride in his tone, mingled with a possessiveness that made your heart race all over again.

Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of the bath, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine despite the heat. "I love it when you call me that," you murmured, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Makes me feel like I'm yours."

He chuckled again, this time deeper, more primal. "You are mine, princess. You know that." His grip tightened around you, his hands moving slowly up your torso until one hand rested on your chest, the other trailing back to your neck. He held you there, not tightly, but with enough pressure to remind you who was in control. "I never want you to forget it."

"I won't," you promised, your voice a little breathless now as his fingers brushed over your skin, teasing you despite the calm of the bath.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the rain outside now distant, a faint backdrop to the quiet intimacy you shared. His hand dipped back down to your waist, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip under the water, making your breath hitch.

"Tell me," Michael said after a long pause, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want right now."

You bit your lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your eyes half-closed. The feel of his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin was driving you insane. "I just want more of you," you whispered. "I don't want tonight to end."

His lips grazed your ear, a teasing warmth that sent a wave of heat flooding your body again. "More of me?" he murmured, his voice dark with amusement. "Didn't I just give you all of me out there in the rain?"

You smiled lazily, your body relaxing more against his. "You know it's never enough with you, Michael. I could drown in you and still want more."

He let out a low growl, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Damn, baby, you're making it hard for me to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," you teased, turning your head just enough so you could meet his gaze, your lips brushing his as you spoke. "I don't want you to hold back."

Michael's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand sliding back up to your throat, this time gripping a little tighter. "Careful what you wish for, princess."

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," you whispered, daring him with a playful smile.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy against your cheek. Then, without warning, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like he needed to claim you all over again.

You moaned into his mouth, the heat between you reigniting in an instant, the warmth of the bath doing little to quell the fire sparking between your bodies. His hand stayed firm on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, while his other hand wandered under the water, teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"Michael..." you gasped between kisses, your hands reaching behind you to grip his thighs as you arched against him. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to murmur the words against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside me again," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you under the water. "You're so greedy, baby," he growled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But that's okay. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Before you could respond, Michael's hand slid between your thighs, the warmth of the water only intensifying the sudden jolt of pleasure. His touch was deliberate, confident, parting your legs as he pulled you into his lap. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him press against you, the anticipation building with every passing second. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushed inside you, the water rippling in response to the agonizing slowness of his movements.

"Is this what you wanted, princess?" he whispered, his voice husky as his lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His words hung heavy in the steamy air, a dark promise wrapped in desire. "Is this what you've been begging for?"

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your head falling back to rest against his broad shoulder. The world seemed to melt away as your body trembled beneath his touch, completely at his mercy. "More... don't stop..."

His hands tightened around your waist, a possessive grip as he began to move within you. The pace was deliberate, slow, but unyielding—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The soft splash of water echoed in the quiet, mingling with your breathless gasps, creating a rhythm only the two of you shared. Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing through the windows, but it felt distant, as if nothing else existed except this—the closeness, the intensity, the moment.

Michael's lips found your temple, brushing softly against your skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words like a vow sealed between you. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

Your moan was a soft, involuntary response, your fingers digging into his thighs, grounding you as you surrendered to him completely. The steady, unrelenting rhythm of his body against yours filled your senses, each movement an intoxicating blend of pleasure and intimacy. "I love you too," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

The night stretched on, the storm outside now a faint hum in the background as you and Michael moved together like two wild creatures, lost in your own world. His touch was insistent, his need palpable, and you gave in to every moment, every sensation, as he released his pent-up stress and you reveled in the pleasure that consumed you both. Time blurred, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—wanted, loved, and utterly alive.

---

Just Michael

Pairing: Bad era Michael x fem!reader

Synopsis: After the roar of the crowd fades, Michael sheds the spotlight, exhausted, glowing, and searching for the only peace he knows: you. In the quiet of dressing rooms and hotel suites, you reconnect after each performance, reminding him that in a world that always wants more—you’re enough.

Tags: fluff, established relationship, bad era, boyfriend material michael….

Word Count: 776

Author’s notes: I’m active on ao3, but this is my first tumblr post! So hello moonwalkers, ily all. Additionally, the fact reader is a girl is only mentioned once, so gender neutral/male readers are welcome :)

—-

The show’s over. The final note has echoed into silence, swallowed by the vastness of the arena. The lights, once a constellation of movement, have dimmed one by one. The roar of the crowd has faded.

This is always the hardest part. Not the show or the spotlight, but the wait after- the long, quiet space between who he has to be and who he is.

You never wait near the stage. That would draw too much attention. Too many eyes, too many questions. Instead, it’s routine that you slip away early, disappearing into the winding back corridors of the venue, finding his dressing room and settling down. You know the drill. The fans still scream somewhere outside, the crew shuffles around with headsets and clipboards, but here is always where he’ll find you.

He offers quick nods and murmured ‘thank you, thank-you’ s to the backup singers, dancers and crew members that pass him on their way out, a brief smile flickering to acknowledge them. He’d often go to his manager to pick up notes or feedback, (ever the perfectionist!), but tonight he seems set on finding one thing.

Tonight as you wait, you’re curled up on the small couch tucked into the far corner, legs pulled under yourself, wearing his worn red tour jacket. You’ve got a bottle of cold water in your hand, the condensation running slowly down your fingers, waiting for the moment he’ll need it. You absentmindedly play with it in your hand.

The door swings open fast, no knock, and Michael steps inside. He’s glowing, radiating exhaustion, (an endorphin induced one nonetheless), he’s sweating, curls damp and unruly, his chest still rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The lights backstage have tinted his skin like a painting still wet with movement.

The second his eyes land on you, something in him melts. The stage presence fades piece by piece, a costume he’s finally allowed to shed.

“There’s my girl,” he says, voice low and raspy.

He crosses the room in a few steps, and without a word more, collapses beside you. His body folds into yours, head falling against your shoulder, arms winding instinctively around your waist- he’s warm, and humming from the adrenaline. “They were crazy loud tonight,” he mumbles into your neck. “It’s not real until I see you.”

You smile into his hair, letting it reach your eyes as he pulls back from the embrace. You brush damp curls back from his forehead. “You were amazing, Mike. They went crazy for Smooth Criminal.”

He chuckles, light and rich, then shifts so he can see your face better, his fingers lacing with yours, thumb tracing gentle circles on your palm. “You know what I was thinking about during the last song?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Coming back here. You. Me. No stage. No pressure. Just, yeah… peace.”

Hours pass gently and the dressing room empties, arena goes dark, and the two of you return to the quiet anonymity of the hotel suite. It’s another routine now, familiar but never boring. Room service sits untouched on the silver tray, he barely notices it. He never really eats after a show. He, right now, just want to be near you, press his body against yours and remember that there’s a world outside the spotlight.

In the low golden light of the room, you lie together on the bed, legs tangled, limbs a comfortable mess. This time, he’s got his head resting against your chest, cheek pressed right over your heart.

Michael starts to hum something, a tune you don’t recognise . A melody, unfinished. “What’s that?”

His voice is even quieter now. “Don’t know yet. Saving it for us.”

Outside, people still talk about him and light up when his name is spoken. The world watches, always. Still, in this room, in this bed, wrapped around each other, right here he’s just Michael.

---

THRILL HER TONIGHT

[after his historic win, you win the thrill of your life] | 600+ words

WARNINGS: sexual themes , penetration , dirty talk? , genderless reader

[1984]

you’d probably felt a million hands as you left the shrine that night, congratulating the both of you, but mainly him, with boisterous greetings, solid pats on the back nearly knocking him over. long fingers wrapped around your bicep and offered a knowing wink that you took with an electric pride. whispers of something caught between luck and envy sailed into your ears as the cameras captured every single movement. the humble smiles and goodbyes, the excuse me’s and sorry’s, the cries for him as the crowd mutated around the venue to see. in the midst of it all, every eye caught his hold of you, his hand tucked proudly into your waist.

when his car pulled away from the scene, the dark los angeles sky seemed to cover the world. the glitz and glamor of it all was straight out of the hollywood dream, even the stars knew they were just as famous. you look over at him, his face and hands polite in his lap, and squeal like a schoolgirl. “michael!” you wrap your arms around his jacket, jostling him and cupping his face. “you did it, baby!” you kissed his cheek. “you did it—oh!” you kept on, kissing him madly, your lipstick leaving and endless smear of red. “think about everybody back home, they’re all gonna be so proud of you!”

he spoke, honestly, for the first time since his acceptance speech. at least with more words than the thank you’s he’d given in his seat and on the carpet and in the pictures with quincy and them.

“i don’t wanna think about all them right now.” he wet his lips. “i’ve got everything i need right here.”

your eyes locked, passing under streetlights and curving around hills. you knew then that those words had sealed your evening’s fate.

his glove was gone, he’d let you take it off him, and you still felt the stony gems on the tip of your gum behind your front teeth. the glowing white stained now with the rouge from your lips. his face, too, had plenty more of your mark. his ebon skin like a red leopard all the way down his neck and chest.

your hand bends to your headboard, each naked thrust drilling a hole into your wall. the lamp strings dangling on your nightstand clink, vibrating back and forth like the divine man above you, driving into you. his whole body kissing you from the inside out. “mike—“ you gasp, head arching backward in a mess of curls on your pillow. “michael.”

he wants you calling his name like they did at the grammy’s. and he makes it so easy for you. his hips curl into you, his slip like magic. the black coils that flower beneath his hips grow damper, mixing with your need and the spit he gave you when he had you in his mouth and your long nails in his curls. those two syllables were the only language your brain could spare.

his kisses come sloppy, your lips like clay on each other, malleable and wet. his breath comes heavy, grunting and whining in the back of his throat into yours. you lick his tongue and taste the gold he won. you squeeze around him and he takes it, stroking heartily. “take me, baby,” you sigh into him, the pitch high and dehydrated. “you deserve it—ah—mi…”

you goad him with one hand on his back, splaying your fingers to grab his skin. he huffs, tiny beads of sweat cutting into his brow.

he grabs both your thighs and folds you like the pleats in your clothes, mumbling, with his lips by your ear. “what’s my name?”

“michael jackson,” you moan obediently, a decadent smile lacing your voice.

“keep goin’.” his hips kept on, railing your body, sinking you deeper into the bed, going until he was satisfied with it, until your chanting was the only thing he could hear, until you were coming hard singing his praises.

-

requested by @writtenbychris (ILY)

---

Girl, I Can Thrill You More Than Any Ghoul Would Ever Dare Try

Summary: A beautiful backup dancer catches Michael’s eye during the filming of Thriller. Being friends seemed like a good idea until masking feelings becomes too difficult.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader!

Warning: FRIENDSHIP, JEALOUSY, TWO CLUELESS IDIOTS IN LOVE

Requested: yes

All the dancers were gathered outside of a tall building. They each had matching ID’s hanging around their necks. A mixture of excitement and anticipation filled the air.

“Hello, everyone! Can I get your attention please.” A tall man with brown hair and thick beard waved his hand in the air. “Thank you all for being here early, I’m John Landis, the director of this lovely project. Today, we’re technically still rehearsing, but I need you to give it your all. Dance like each run through is the finale.” Everyone cheered and applauded his announcement. “That’s what I like to hear! Let’s get in there and make history!”

Once inside, everyone changed into their dance shoes and took a few minutes to introduce themselves to one another.

When Michael arrived it was twenty minutes before the scheduled start time and to everyone’s surprise he immediately went around greeting each individual.

“Hi, what’s your name?” He asked with a grin on his face. “I’m Michael.” His hand extending.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s so great to meet you. I’m Michael— wait I already said that. Didn’t I?” He chuckled nervously as his face turned a deep red. “How are you? How was the drive over? Did you travel from far away? Where are you from originally? When did you start dancing?” He shot out every single thing he was thinking by accident. And, it was only then that he realized he was still holding her hand.

“I’m good. Thank you for asking.” She laughed, giving herself a moment to remember all of his questions. “The drive over wasn’t too bad. I’m from—”

“Michael!” John jogged over, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Come on kid. We should get started.” John smiled before looking to see what had the young man’s attention. “You’ll have time to make friends later. Sorry doll, I gotta steal him from you.”

“No problem.” She smiled, looking at Michael then down at their connected hands. “I should probably…”

“Oh, right!” He snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, you probably need your hand. I mean don’t we all. Wait— that— did that— I don’t mean I need your hand. I meant you need your hand. It’s a nice hand— very nice.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was sweet and even her laugh was comforting. Michael could tell that even though he was making a fool of himself, she wasn’t laughing at him. He couldn’t stop looking at her, his feet were planted and the only thing that got him away from her was John dragging him in the opposite direction.

“You’re really one with the ladies Jackson.” John teased.

“Shut up. That was humiliating.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“You always enjoy when I make an ass out of myself, you schmuck.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you to go talk up the pretty lady without a game plan.”

“I wasn’t trying to talk her up.”

“Good because you did a shit job.”

“I hate you.” Michael pinched John’s arm.

“Relax kid. I’ll give you some pointers later, but for now we gotta get to work.”

Michael nodded, the embarrassment still lingered in the back of his mind. He caught himself more than once watching her movements through the mirrors. He hoped no one else could see what he was doing, but he decided that if they did he’d own it. He wouldn’t feel ashamed of admiring a beautiful woman. He studied how she used every part of her body to tell the story— he was so lost in her hips that he didn’t realize three hours came and went.

“Alright, you guys are looking great! I think we’ve reached a great ending point for our first day. However, I do have one tiny suggestion, I think Michael would agree with me on this, we need you.” John smiled, pointing at her, she stepped forward confidently. “Yes, you. You’d be perfect right here.” He guided her to stand beside Michael and sent the male dancer to her old spot. “That’s what you wanted, right Michael?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s definitely more balanced. I like that very much.” He nodded at her, chuckling when she waved back. “Nice to see you again.” He whispered.

“Very nice.” She agreed, tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“Alright, see you all bright and early tomorrow. Rest up well my lovely zombies!” Everyone laughed, dispersing to collect their belongings.

John gave his young friend a very obnoxious thumbs up and made a motion with his hands, encouraging him to keep the conversation going.

“You’re a really good dancer.” Michael faced her, tilting his head as his eyes wandered her figure.

“Thank you. You aren’t bad yourself. Seriously, the choreography is no joke. It looks awesome. I can’t wait to see it once we’re on in costumes and makeup.”

“Well, honestly, I think it’s you that makes it look awesome.”

“Thank you…” She felt like the wind was knocked out of her. He was being so sweet and she didn’t know how to respond.

“I never got the chance to ask…” He reached out, his hand resting on her arm as he guided them over to a secluded corner. “Where are you from?”

She laughed at how secretive he was being over such a normal question. She offered the name of her hometown and a bit of a back story about how she ended up in Los Angeles. He hung on every word like he was going to be quizzed later.

“How about you? Do you like living here?” She asked, leaning against the wall and opening her water bottle. She was so calm. She treated him like a person and it felt good.

“I enjoy it. My entire family is here now too, so that helps. I don’t like feeling isolated.”

“Oh, you’re one of the lucky ones. I wish my family were closer, but we make it work.”

“Do you have friends here?” He perked up, hoping he could be added to that list.

“Um… yes, a few. Mostly people I’ve met along the way. I make sure to keep a busy schedule, with work and school, so I never feel too lonely.”

“Well, I can— we can be friends.” The sweetness laced in his words made her heart flutter.

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.” They shared a moment of silence, softly giggling as they looked at each other.

“Michael!” John shouted, waving him over.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No worries, duty calls.”

Michael approached John with the biggest smile on his face. He avoided his friend’s inquisitive gaze, unzipping his jacket before shrugging it off.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me how it went?” He stared at his young friend, squinting his eyes as if to try to comprehend how he wasn’t uncontrollably gushing over the girl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michael dodged the question, suddenly having all the patience in the world as he tossed his jacket on a nearby table.

“Spill. What did you two talk about?”

“Nothing really. You called me away before I could get anywhere.”

“Oh, where are you trying to go with her lover boy?” John laughed, his hand smacking against his thigh as he teased him.

“Shut up.” Michael covered his face, failing to hide his embarrassment. “Please, don’t laugh at me.” His tone was sad which made the director frown— he hated how quickly Michael’s body language changed.

“Walk with her.” John stated. His tone was steady now and he wanted nothing more than to give his friend the confidence the world was slowly stripping from him. “And, for the record, I’d never laugh at you.” He knew how sensitive Michael could be, especially when he thought he was being made fun of. He never wanted to make him feel that way, so he did his best to reassure him.

“Alright. What do you mean walk with her?”

“Lover boy, walk her to her car. You know, it’s dark out, chivalry will get you a long way.” He pointed at him clicking his tongue to further sell his point.

“Oh, I see.”

“Go on. You got this.”

“Wait! What should I say to her? I don’t think— I’m not sure how— John, what if she doesn’t like me?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. Kid, you gotta stop selling yourself short. She was clearly enjoying talking to you, so you’ve got nothing to stress over. Honestly, I think she’s into you. Just keep being yourself.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll give it a try. I think—”

“No, no, don’t think. You gotta get out of your head and stop doubting yourself. She’ll love you, just be you— everything else will flow on its own. Now, go. Hurry, she’s about to leave.”

Michael shook his head vigorously, grabbing his jacket and sprinting over to the door she was about to push open.

“Y/N!” She looked back, smiling when she saw it was Michael. He stopped a few steps away from her.

“Hi, friend.” She grinned at him, adjusting the bag that hung off her shoulder.

“I’d like to walk you to your car, is that okay?” He waited patiently for her response. She was overwhelmed with his tenderness.

“It’s more than okay, but if you have other things to do, it’s okay.”

“I’d really like to accompany you. Really.”

“Such a gentleman.” She reached for the door, but he jumped in front of her.

“Allow me.” He held the door open for her and it made her entire face heat up. Their bodies brushed against one another as she walked out to the hall. “Here. I’ll take this for you.” He didn’t wait for her response this time. He just slid the strap of her bag off her shoulder and onto his.

“Thank you. You’re so sweet.” She took a small step towards him, her hand landing on his bicep and her fingers curling around it slowly. “Is this okay?” She questioned.

“Oh yes.” He answered quickly, growing more flustered by her touch than he thought he would.

John watched the interaction discreetly from afar with a proud expression on his face. “My boy.” He whispered to himself, the door shut and he couldn’t hear them anymore, but seeing it was enough. They gawked at each other a little longer before walking off and that’s when he gently fist pumped into the air.

“So, what kind of things do you like doing in your free time?” Michael spoke confidently.

“I like baking—”

“I’d love to try your baking!” He interrupted her enthusiastically. “What’s your favorite thing to bake?”

“Hm… if I have to choose it’d be cheesecake or cookies.”

“If you’re up for it maybe you could teach me a thing or two?”

“That would be really fun. You’d look good in an apron.”

“You’d look better.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out soon, huh?”

“I was getting there. I was just working up the courage.”

“Alright.” She stopped walking and faced him. An arch in her eyebrow as she looked back at him, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. “Ask me.”

“Would you like to hang out with me sometime?”

“Hang out sometime?” She repeated, trying to hide her disappointment as his phrasing.

“Yeah, that’s what friends do right?” Michael smiled, silently kicking himself at the use of friends. He definitely doesn’t want to be friends— he wants more.

“Yeah, yeah. They do.” She crossed her arms and tried to keep her voice steady. She felt like an idiot for thinking he would ask her on a date.

“Well, would you?”

“I’d love to. When are you free?”

“For you, any day.” He was turning up his flirting again and although she was loving it— it was also very confusing. Was he asking her out or not?

“Is Saturday good for you? I’ve got a busy week with school and work. Unless…” she decided to test the waters again— one last time. “We’re all going out to dinner on Friday. The cast party thing.” She crossed her fingers hoping the curly haired dancer would say the right thing.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that. Well, I’d like to spend time with you. The two of us. I’d like to get to know you better.”

“You’re a real smooth talker.” She liked his answer. It wasn’t as up front as she’d like, but it was a step in the right direction.

“I try.” He shrugged. “At least I get to see you during rehearsals this week. I have you for three hours everyday.”

“Lucky you.”

“I get to see a beautiful face like yours. I’m more than lucky.”

“Mr. Jackson, you’re making me blush.” She tried to cover her face with her hand, but he stopped her.

“Wow. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier.” His eyes scanned her face. He wasn’t staring at her, he was admiring her and it made her feel more self conscious than she was proud to admit.

“So, what do you like to do?” She turned on her heels and started walking again.

“I love movie nights. I have this giant projector screen and I make popcorn. It’s a nice little escape from reality.”

“I’d love to have a movie night with you.” She propositioned, feeling bold under the dark blue night sky.

“Friday it is, after the cast dinner. Movie starts at eight, sound good?”

“It sounds great.”

“I’m so excited.” He murmured honestly.

“Here.” She let his arm go briefly, leaning towards him to dig into her bag. A piece of paper and pen in hand as she began scribbling. “Um… this is my address and phone number.” She gently placed it in his palm.

“It’s a date.” He clapped his hands triumphantly before he processed his words. “Not a date— I didn’t mean we— date— or if you want— we can— the funny thing about dating—”

“Michael…” His stomach did a flip when he felt her hand move against his. “We can be friends hanging out or if we both— if we like each other this can be a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay.” His smile helped her let out the breath she was holding in. It didn’t occur to either of them that they’d failed to label what Friday night would be because they were to wrapped up in each other. He closed his hand around hers and tried to hold back, but he couldn’t resist. He dipped his head and kissed the top of her hand.

The rest of the week went by painfully slow. Y/N found herself begging for the clock to read the right numbers. She couldn’t wait to see Michael. They didn’t get much time together alone, but somehow she felt closer to him with each day that passed. He waited for her and made a habit of walking her to her car every night. They’d fallen into a routine which had become her favorite time of the day, his too. She put up a playful fight, but deep down she loved hearing the silly excuses he came up with. For example, he claimed to have seen rabid squirrels around and wanted to keep her safe. That one was her favorite.

“Why don’t you ride with me? I’ve got more than enough space.”

“My car is here though. I don’t want you to have to bring me back—”

“Y/N, I don’t mind. Please, I insist.” He looked so happy, so full of hope. “I haven’t got to spend much time with you this week.”

“How could I say no to that smile?” The glow of the streetlights brought a level of calmness that she appreciated. Her stomach was full of butterflies being so close to him— being alone with him.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful.” He stepped closer, his hand found her hip. His touch was sweet and comforting, giving her enough time to move away from him, but she didn’t. She stood before him with wide eyes, leaning into him, all insecurity pushed to the back of her mind.

“So are you.” She whispered, looking deep into his big brown eyes. Their chests pressing against one another as his hand traveled up to cup her face. They were so close and if it weren’t for the bright headlights startling them, they would’ve melted into one another, but instead the space between them grew— he jumped away from her. He scrambled away from her at lightning speed, leaving her to feel not only rejection, but shame.

“We should probably get going.” Michael coughed, running his fingers through his hair as the vehicle that interrupted them drove by, blasting loud music.

“Yeah, they’re probably waiting for us.” She didn’t look at him, quickly getting into the car and putting the seatbelt on. She focused her gaze out the window as they sped through the city to their destination.

Michael nervously fidgeted the entire drive, he wanted to reach out to her, say something, but he couldn’t. She wouldn’t even look at him.

When the car stopped in front of the restaurant, she jumped out of the car and basically sprinted to the entrance.

“Wait up!” Michael yelled after her, she turned to face him. “Wait!”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” Her voice sounded so delicate it made him feel an overwhelming ache in his chest.

“What? No. Of course not.” He tried to reassure her as they stood in front of the doors.

“Are you sure? It seems—” she was cut off by Michael turning his back to her suddenly at the sound of footsteps. She felt the humiliation set in as she studied the back of his head. She didn’t need to say anything else— she had her answer.

She didn’t even blame him, he was— he’s who he is and she’s just a back up dancer.

When he turned back around she was gone. He was certain he ruined things before they could even begin. It’s exactly what he was afraid of. He’s an expert at destroying anything good in his life.

The energy shifted entirely once inside the restaurant, Y/N didn’t look back. She hugged her coworkers taking a seat at the long table.

“How did you get here? Your car was still in the lot when I left.”

“Michael gave me a ride.” She shrugged, crossing her legs as her friends closed in on her with big grins on their faces.

“Oh, getting in good with the boss man, are we?” They laughed, a few of them throwing balled up candy wrappers at her.

“Shush. You guys are ridiculous.”

“Well, he didn’t offer me a ride. Did he offer anyone else a ride in his horse drawn carriage?” A chorus of ‘no’s’ followed as the teasing continued.

“It’s because he’s not trying to wine and dine you, only our little twinkle toes here. He’s totally got it bad for her. Remember yesterday when she tripped and he all about lost it calling for medics— she didn’t even need a bandaid.”

“Stop.”

“Yeah, he’s got a soft spot for this one.”

“No he doesn’t. He’s just being nice. He’s nice to all of us.”

“Yeah, he’s nice but for you, he’s extra nice.”

“He’s nice to all of us, true, but he doesn’t give us all fuck me eyes.”

“Oh my god!” Y/N was horrified, burying her face in her hands.

“It’s true.”

“Please stop talking before someone hears you.”

“Oh, come on! He looks at you like he rather see you dancing on a pole.” One of the guys jumped up requesting high fives as he held his hand up.

“That was a good one!”

“He’s trying to get into your bloomers.”

“You guys stop.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head at the unnecessary attention.

“He doesn’t walk me to my car! Boy, wouldn’t even notice if I got run over. He’s too focused on you.”

“You’re all very mentally flawed individuals.” Y/N flipped them off and they all returned the sentiment.

“Woah, what did we miss?” John’s voice sounded from behind her and they all quickly dropped their hands.

“Oh, nothing.” One of them answered. “Just some good old team bonding.”

“That’s great to hear! So, are we ready to get this party started?” He asked, earning a loud cheer from everyone.

They had the entire place to themselves which gave them unlimited access to everything. Y/N was playing air hockey with a few people when she noticed Michael’s uneasy demeanor. He was leaned up against the wall, watching with a half smile on his face. It was like he wanted to participate, but felt like he’d be rejected, so he just observed. She watched closely when he pushed himself off the wall and sped walked down a hallway.

“Hey, play for me!” She handed over her pusher, sprinting off and ignoring the confused looks.

The dimly lit hallway caused some fear to bubble up inside of her, but she continued on anyway. At the end of the hall were the restrooms, she heard rustling in the men’s room and stopped in her tracks. She focused on the sound and knew it was him.

“Michael?” She knocked softly.

“Y— yeah. I’m— I’m— fine.”

“Do you— can I come in?”

“Please.” His voice sounded strained, a few seconds went by and she heard the door unlock.

She opened the door slowly as to not scare him. He turned away from her, burying his face in his hands.

“Michael.”

“Hm.”

“Turn around. Look at me.” She sounded sweet, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. It’s me.” Her palms rested cautiously on his wrists. “Come on.” She cooed, her thumbs running small circles on his hand and finally he let her take control.

“You don’t have to— you can go back out there.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“It’s not a big deal. I understand. We can still be friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.” He spat bluntly, she blinked slowly, her throat closing rapidly and she became very aware of the fact she’s probably overstayed her welcome.

“O— Okay.” It was clear she was thinking of leaving with the way she glanced back at the door.

“No!” His body practically transported to block the exit and stop her. “I meant I don’t want to be your friend and nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” She asked, a confused expression on her face.

“It’s just— I mean— we can be best friends.” He said in a panic.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She nodded along and felt her stomach drop at the tone of his voice.

“Um— thanks for checking on me.”

“No problem. That’s what friends are for right?” She chuckled nervously. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I think so. I don’t really know how to be around people and I don’t want to ruin anyone’s time.”

“You won’t ruin anything. What are you so worried about?”

“I’m not used to being around people my age. I don’t go out like this. It’s all new to me. I don’t want to be laughed at.”

“Michael, no one is going to laugh at you.”

“I want to feel normal for a night, you know? I thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity, but I saw everyone playing games and laughing together. I don’t know how to be part of it. I’m never included in things like this— I’m always kept separate from everything. It sucks.”

“Come on. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She held her hand out and waited for him to give in.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll fit in— I never do.”

“You fit in just fine. Michael, you’re so fun to be around. You deserve to enjoy yourself and make new friends. No one is going to make fun of you or make you feel out of place. I wouldn’t let that happen. There’s a good group of people out there and the night is still young. What do you say?”

“I say…”

“Hey, don’t you trust me?”

“Yes. I trust you.” He smiled, taking her hand without a second thought.

“Well, did you or didn’t you enjoy yourself?” She asked, climbing into the car as he held the door open.

“I did. You were right. Who knew I was so good at air hockey?” He laughed, sitting beside her and shutting the door.

“You were a natural! I can’t believe you’ve never played before.”

“Yeah, about that.”

“What?”

“I have an air hockey table at home…”

“You lied!” She shouted, turning towards him with her mouth wide open in shock.

“Kind of, but I didn’t mean to! I was nervous and I don’t know it just slipped out. Then, everyone started cheering for me and I couldn’t tell the truth! It felt good— I felt like a college student, hanging out with friends.” He shrugged bashfully and she couldn’t help but emphasize.

“I guess I’ll keep your secret. I’m glad you had fun with everyone.”

“And now, movie night!” He cheered as the car pulled into the driveway of his home.

They made their way inside and Y/N did her best not to look too blown away by his home. It was huge and beautiful. She tried to act as though this wasn’t her first time in a mansion, but hell was it difficult.

“You can leave your stuff here. The movie theater is on the other side of the property. I’ll just grab a few blankets.”

“Movie theater?”

“Yeah, we can drive one of the golf carts over. It’s too far to walk.”

“Golf carts. Plural.”

“You want to drive your own? We can race.”

“I’ve never driven one before, so I’ll just ride with you.”

He beamed at her, the way she was trying not to freak out over his home was commendable. He knew she wanted him to feel normal around her and he appreciated the hell out of that. When they made their way outside Y/N sat next to him trying hard not to let her gaze wander around the yard, he chuckled, placing the blankets in her lap and driving off at a steady pace.

“Here we are.” He sang softly, guiding her over to the tall brick building.

“Woah.” She whispered as he flipped on the lights revealing the theater. “It’s so nice. No way! You have a cotton candy machine!” She squealed, running over to it and searching for the on switch.

“It’s right there.” He laughed, pressing the button and watching closely as her eyes lit up. “I’m going to go get the movie started.”

She nodded, not looking away from the machine, she poured the sugar in and clapped as it fluffed up. The movie screen lit up and he dimmed the lights before making his way over to sit next to her.

“Here!” She held out a giant cloud of cotton candy.

“You’re funny.” He commented, looking on as she did a little happy dance in her seat.

“What?”

“Nothing I just like seeing you so happy.”

“This is going to be the best movie night ever.”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, the darkness of the room hiding the longing look in his eyes.

“Thank you for having me over.”

“To the first of many.” He grins, holding his cotton candy in the air looking to her to match his gesture.

“Definitely.” She raised her cotton candy and bumped it into his causing them both to crack up.

About half way into the movie, and after what felt like a ton of candy and popcorn, he decided to try something. He unfolded a blanket, laying it across both of their laps. She thanked him quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder, without hesitation his arm went to wrap around her. He was surprised with himself, he’d never made a move like that before.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice low, cautious not to completely interrupt the movie.

"Sure, funky feet. What's up?" He laughed, shaking his head at her silly nickname for him.

"Oh, shush, twinkle toes." He threw some popcorn at her which she attempted to block with a pillow.

"What's your question?"

"Why are you friends with me? Do you— don't you think I'm weird?"

"I'm friends with you because you're kind and we have a lot in common. You’re a good person and I think maybe some of that goodness could rub off on me. I enjoy being around you— we have fun together, don't you think?"

"Yes." He blushed.

"Good, I'm glad you agree."

"You didn't answer—"

"Michael, you aren't weird. You're actually very normal— all the insane talent and worldwide admiration aside... you're just a guy. A great guy with a good head on your shoulders and a pure heart. You are not weird."

"You really think so?"

"You're one of my favorite people for a reason."

Michael didn't say anything. He knew if he opened his mouth he'd end up bursting into tears.

For some reason her acceptance made him emotional. He squeezed her hand and that was enough. She knew.

Y/N laughed along with her friends as they walked out onto the road at the shooting location. It was a simple setting which would make them stand out even more. She felt some nerves as she watched the crew begin setting up their equipment. The group of dancers planned to run through the routine once, fix any possible errors, make the most out of the space before getting into hair, makeup and costumes for filming. She couldn’t help but notice how eager she felt to see him.

“Hey, you think boss man had a good time last night?” One of the guys asked out loud.

“I think so. He seemed to feel more comfortable with a certain someone beside him.” Her friend spoke, nudging her with her elbow. “Isn’t that right, lovely?” She giggled, using the nickname Michael had let slip so effortlessly the night before.

“Would you cut it out?” Y/N replied. “We get along. He’s cool.”

“He’s cool.” They mocked her jokingly.

“Y/N, he is so into you.”

“We’re friends.” She reiterated, focusing on tying her shoelaces, so she could ignore the pang in her chest.

“I bet you twenty bucks you two are boinking by the end of the week.”

“End of the week? More like end of the hour. Unless… they’ve already got it on…” They stared at her waiting for confirmation.

“You guys are being so inappropriate.” She said, laughing at their bluntness.

“Y/N.” One of the guys stood next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “We’re friends, right?”

“Right.” She answered, a little confused about where this was going.

“Yeah, friends. Which means, you’d never look at me the way you look at him—”

“I don’t—”

“And, you’d feel aggressively ill if I looked at you or spoke to you the way he does. You guys— the two of you are being really annoying denying what’s between you.”

“You can say that again!” Someone shouted.

“There’s— I don’t know what you guys want me to do.”

“Anything is better than doing nothing.” He smiled, hugging her tightly before pulling her along with him to join the rest of the dancers as they rehearsed.

As they moved to the music she tried to ignore everyone’s jokes, but she knew they were right. She had a crush— more than a crush, but she was sure Michael experienced that all the time— girls falling for him. She didn’t want to ruin their friendship over her feelings, especially when he’d expressed to her how difficult it was for him to make friends. He needed a friend and she was willing to be there for him. She’d do anything for him.

“Excited?” She asked enthusiastically as she approached Michael and John during their break from dancing.

“What?” He responded hastily.

“Oh, I just asked if you were excited?”

“Like you care.” He muttered, walking off and disappearing into his trailer.

She stood there dumbfounded, unable to take her eyes off where he’d been standing. John watched the exchange and felt out of place. He didn’t know what to do, the poor girl looked crushed. All the happiness vanished from her being in an instant.

“He’s just stressed.” He offered with a kind smile.

“Oh okay.”

“You should go check on him. We have some extra time.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“He does. Believe me. Go, it’ll help calm him down.” She nodded, walking over to his trailer, filled with uncertainty. Yet, here she was, knocking on his door, excited for him to answer. She just wanted to see his face.

“Come in.” His voice called from the other side.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I guess I’m just—”

“Stressed?” She smiled, finishing his sentence.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m here to help. What can I do? Do you want to pull a prank on John? I’ve got some good ideas.” She giggled wickedly, expecting him to be her accomplice without much persuasion.

“Do you— are you dating him?”

“What?”

“Are you dating him?” He questioned, his words coming out slowly.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“The guy. The one that was all over you.”

“No one was all over me. I’m not dating—”

“He had his arm around you. You were laughing and smiling. It looked like you enjoyed it.” He spoke, looking down at the floor as his voice became weak.

“He— what? No.”

“You two looked pretty cozy.”

“We are friends. That’s all. No coziness.” She argued, her hands held up in front of her defensively. “Where is this coming from?”

“Ok.”

“Michael?”

“Hm…” He mumbled, staring at the dirty tiled floor.

“Why did that have you so worked up… the idea of me dating him?”

“I wasn’t worked up.” He stated unconvincingly.

“Really? Then, what do you call it?”

“I call it— it’s just— you know we’re friends— I was being a good friend— worrying about you. I mean I wouldn’t want you, my friend, to date… date a guy— date a jerk. Date someone…”

“So, this is just about us being friends?” She asked, her voice becoming louder as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what we are.”

“The friend thing again.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand. Can you explain this to me? Why are you, my ‘friend’, so pissed off at the thought of me going on a date?” She asked, even using air quotes around the word friend. She was frustrated with all the mixed signals.

“Well, I’m not sure— I’m not mad about you going on a date—”

“Okay, well I’ll just go ask him on a date then, since you see something so special between us.” She threatened, spinning around and reaching for the door knob.

“No! You’re making rash decisions. Don’t do that Y/N!” He grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the door. “I don’t want you to do that!”

“Why not?”

“I— I don’t know. He’s not right for you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I— I don’t— can you just not do that please?” He begged, looking into her eyes like a lost puppy.

“Why? Tell me. Michael, just say it.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know— don’t know— I don’t know what to say— just please don’t.” He stumbled over his words and felt his hands begin to sweat.

“Do you like me?” She inquired calmly, doing her best not to let her true feelings show, but also trying to avoid being hurt by his answer.

“Yeah. Yes, of course I like you.”

“As more than a friend?” He stared at her blankly, so she tried to relieve some pressure. “When I say the word friend about other people I meant it, you know? It’s simple, but with you. It feels like it means more. You’re special— to me you’re a one of a kind… friend.”

“Oh— well I mean I— I don’t want to say the wrong— I don’t— I screw things up— I feel things— I feel— I can’t— I’m not sure how to explain.”

“I like you.” She whispered, stepping towards him, her tongue dragged against her lips quickly, but to him it happened in slow motion. “More than a friend…”

“You… me?” He asked in disbelief. “How?”

“Seriously? How could I not like you?”

“I— oh— this…”

“It’s okay. I guess I read this wrong. Listen, I want to be your friend anyway. I can put my feelings aside—”

“Aside? No, no.”

“No?”

“Don’t put them aside. Please, I’m crazy about you.”

“Crazy, huh?”

“I can’t put into words the way I feel about you.”

“Then, show me.” She closed the space between them, her chest bumping against his with each breath. He swallowed any nerves he was about to voice, how could he feel anything negative when she was looking at him like that.

“Y/N.” He hummed her name just as his lips touched hers. His heart was pounding, his fingers trembling as they dug into her hips. Her arms wrapped around him and she moaned into his mouth.

He carefully walked her backwards, pushing her up against the wall. She let out a surprised yelp at how he took control, but that only turned him on further. She tugged his shirt off and he pulled her top over her head. The sight of her lacey bra brought him to a halt— he needed a moment to catch his breath.

“Michael?”

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed out. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted all this time being so afraid when I could’ve been kissing these perfect lips.”

“I can’t believe I waited all this time for you to finally make a move. I was growing impatient.”

“I know.” He chuckled. “Thank you, for helping me make my move. You lovely woman.” He buried his face against her neck.

“You’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Sorry.” He retrieved a button down shirt from his clothing rack, draping it across her shoulders and slowly buttoning it. “As much as I’d like to get you out of all your clothes… we’ve got all the time in the world for that. I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want to mess this up. I want to do this right, you deserve to be taken on dates and maybe… possibly… if you’re interested… allowing me to call myself your boyfriend.”

“I love the sound of that… boyfriend.”

“Are you free for a mini impromptu date right now, my beautiful, incredibly talented girlfriend?” He questioned, tucking her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers drag down the soft skin of her cheek.

“Oh, and what does this impromptu date entail?”

“A little of this…” his hands moved slowly down to the curve of her ass. “A lot of this…” he tilted his head, kissing her deeply, his tongue moving so perfectly, so sensually and it drove her crazy. When his lips traveled down to her neck, leaving wet kisses, she hooked her leg around his hips. She grinded against him, fully aware of what she was doing and feeling his hard growing made her smile into the kiss. They knew that eventually they’d go all the way, but for now they felt alive teasing one another.

In her mind she wondered what else he could do with his tongue. She looked forward to finding out. She was yearning to know how’d he feel on top of her or under her— any and every position really peaked her interest.

As she moved her hips against his, he wondered how good it would feel to be inside her. He couldn’t wait to hear all the beautiful sounds she’d make and how loud he could get her to scream his name.

---

LOVE ON TAPE

(michael loves his new camcorder) | 476 words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , sexual themes , filming sex , fingering , riding , exhibitionism

[1993]

im imagining mike with this new camcorder he bought. one he’d been eyeing & so excited to capture all of his memories with you on

like on nights out for events he’d post up in your full body mirror, scanning his suit

i’m recording he smiles, the camera following your strut from the closet

you look stunning. he marvels. absolutely gorgeous…and beautiful…and—

please, baby, we’re so late you chide him with a loving smile and tug of his hand

your lips, perfectly made-up, float behind the camera

a hum seals your kiss

i can picture him wanting to also record other things……

in front of the same mirror, the camera picks up the glimmer of gold that curls around, frames the glass

he has you record the two of you, naked, the view angling just below your chest, a mist of fuzzy bodies in the viewfinder, your legs multiplying as you stand in front of his

in the low light you look like two statues in a museum, the standing lovers

soft kisses spur behind the camera

and his hand slides across your breasts, skin supple from your shared bath and oil

slips, achingly slow, just so the camera sees it all,

like a serpent down your belly, reaching between your legs

he was an artiste that way…

middle finger circling, deeper than the rest, into the dip where your sweetness pools,

shakily you breath in , a motion on the camera, your head falls back onto his shoulder. a kiss is heard again

does that feel good?

mhm…

are you getting it?

mhm…

zooming in, he cups you with his whole hand

on camera, his wedding band glimmers

your gasp shakes the vision

knees quaking

and his dick is absolutely solid behind you, stiff against your skin where the bone dips in your hip, curves you like a violin

your teeth bite into your smile

let them see

there was no them but it got you wetter to think so

you guide the camera into one hand, holding it steadily as you spit into your palm, curve your arm back and wrap around him, your body moving sideways to get a better look for the lens

his breath is trembling, the effect magnetic

his fingers still caressed you, you both moan gingerly

his eyes watch you in the mirror, yours swing between the camera and his arm reaching around to play with you, the veins appearing in your view

you can’t tell which was sexier

you kiss his bicep, gasping louder now

you’re gonna make me…

mhm

the camera drops low as you come undone and michael chuckles, his fingers still rocking you mercilessly.

and maybe he’d record you in the dark, riding him feverishly, his hips melding into yours, his being so deep, his thumb sweet and methodic on your clit……….your moans……..oh he’d praise you like his life depended on it until you both shake with climax

the camcorder falling beside him on the bed

behind the camera, a symphony of panting and the lovers’ satiated giggling

screen cuts to black

---

𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝙾𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚎

Smut

1984

HayvenHurst

Word Count: 7.1k

The family house buzzed with the warmth of laughter and the steady hum of music, though the melody was nearly drowned out by the boisterous chatter and the clinking of glasses. Red Solo cups were scattered around, each one filled to the brim with a mix of spirits and juices, the evidence of a night full of celebration and unwinding.

Perched on the kitchen counter, you found yourself nestled comfortably on Michael’s lap, his strong arm encircling your waist. The firm grip reassured you, keeping you securely against him as he engaged in conversation with his brothers, Jackie and Marlon. Yet, your attention wandered far from their words. The conversation was nothing more than a distant murmur as you became increasingly fixated on the gentle, repetitive motion of Michael’s thumb as it traced slow, lazy circles on the exposed skin of your lower back—back and forth, back and forth. The sensation sent shivers up your spine, a subtle reminder of the electric connection between you.

Shifting slightly, you pressed yourself more firmly against him, seeking both comfort and something more. He noticed immediately, his gaze lowering to meet yours. “You alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern and curiosity.

You nodded, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile, though deep down, you were anything but alright. The truth was a secret buried deep within you—an unspoken confession of love for the man whose arms held you so tenderly. It was a love that was all too familiar to his siblings, though they remained blissfully unaware of the depth of your secret. None of them knew that when the night grew quiet and the doors were closed, you and Michael crossed the lines of friendship in ways that would shock them.

“Guys,” Latoya’s voice cut through the haze, pulling your attention back to the present as she approached with a playful grin. “We should play truth or dare,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jackie groaned in response. “Toya, we’re too old for that. Besides, if we mess up the house while Mother and Joe aren’t here, we’ll be in deep trouble,” he cautioned, though his words lacked any real conviction.

Latoya merely shrugged off his concerns, her determination unshaken. “You’re no fun. But we’re still playing. Go get Enid, and Marlon, go grab Carol,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

With resigned sighs, the two brothers rose from their seats, heading off to fetch their wives, leaving you alone with Michael.

Latoya wasn’t done yet. “Michael, are you in?” she asked over her shoulder, already knowing the answer.

He shrugged, his aviators catching the light as he adjusted them on his face. “Sure, why not? But Jackie’s right—we’re too old for this.”

Latoya smirked, a glint of wickedness in her eyes. “We’ll make it dirty,” she teased before disappearing to gather the others.

As the room emptied, Michael turned his full attention to you, removing his aviators and setting them on the counter. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “You heard her, right? She said she’s gonna make it dirty,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You nodded again, trying to maintain your composure as the tension between you thickened. “I heard.”

His gaze dropped to the cup you held, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?” he asked, reaching for your cup and taking a sip.

“It’s just juice,” you reassured him, watching as he took a swallow before setting the cup back down.

“Okay,” he said, though his eyes remained on you, studying your every move. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

You offered another nod, your voice a touch too soft as you responded. “I’m fine, Michael.”

But the truth was, you weren’t fine at all. The way he looked at you, the way his thumb continued to graze your skin—it was all driving you wild. Every stolen glance and innocent touch only stoked the fire that smoldered deep within you. The intensity of your feelings threatened to spill over, and all you wanted was to close the space between you, to tell him how much you loved him. But you hesitated, the words lodged in your throat, your desire simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.

Michael’s gaze never wavered, his eyes fixed on you as if he could see right through the facade. He knew you weren’t fine, but he was patient, waiting for you to come to him with the truth. “You know I’m gonna miss you when we go on tour,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to your thigh. His fingers slipped under your skirt, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you as he caressed your skin.

“I’ll miss you too, Michael,” you replied, your voice soft and filled with longing. You reached up to caress his face, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I’ll try and come see you, though. You know that.”

“I know, doll,” he said with a smile that made your heart flutter. “You better call me, though. I’ll have someone send you the numbers to the hotels and everything. We’ll talk all night if you want, or… do what we usually do.” His grin turned playful, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made your pulse quicken.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a light, breathless sound that escaped your lips as you playfully smacked his chest. “Quit talking like that before your siblings hear you. We don’t need them catching on, Michael.”

“I know, girl,” he teased, his grin widening. “I’m just saying.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. But before you could respond, the rest of the family began filtering back into the room, their presence shifting the atmosphere. They moved to the couches, settling in for what was sure to be a night filled with laughter and revelations, but you and Michael remained by the counter, his arm still wrapped securely around you as you sat on his lap.

“So who’s startin’ this?” Jackie asked, settling down with Enid in his lap, his tone a mix of curiosity and reluctance.

“Toya should, since she wanted to play,” Carol blurted out, her eyes narrowing playfully at Latoya.

“You guys agreed to it,” Latoya shot back, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, her expression one of determined mischief.

“Just start the damn game,” Jackie muttered, rolling his eyes as if to say he was already regretting this decision.

Latoya’s lips curled into a sly smile as she turned her attention to her brother. “Okay, Jackie, truth or dare?” she asked, her voice light but challenging.

“Why me?” Jackie protested, pointing to himself in mock indignation.

“‘Cause you’re talking back. Now answer. Truth or dare?” Latoya’s tone left no room for argument.

Jackie sighed, clearly resigned to his fate. “Truth,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of caution.

“Is it true you and Enid did it in Joseph’s car?” Latoya asked, her question landing like a bombshell in the room.

Jackie’s mouth fell open, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. “Now you know I wouldn’t do that,” he stammered, glancing at Enid as if to confirm his innocence. “He’d try and put his hands on me. He’d probably even kill me! Toya, what made you think that?”

Latoya shrugged, the picture of innocence. “I don’t know, it was just a question. Anyways,” she continued, her eyes shifting to the next target, “Marlon, truth or dare?”

Marlon bit the inside of his cheek, weighing his options before he sighed. “Dare,” he said, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Latoya’s gaze flicked to the counter where a few bottles of liquor sat, her smile turning wicked. “Take five shots,” she commanded, her tone daring him to back out.

“Now Latoya, you know Marlon is a lightweight,” Carol interjected, her concern evident as she eyed the bottles warily.

“I’ll be fine, hun,” Marlon reassured her, a playful grin on his lips as he gently moved Carol off his lap. “I’ll just crash here.”

Marlon stood up, swaggering over to the counter where you and Michael sat. You could feel the energy in the room shift, the tension thickening as everyone waited to see what would happen next. The night seemed ready to take a turn for the wild and unexpected, and Michael’s hand on your thigh only heightened your awareness of the connection between you, a steady reminder of the unspoken bond that pulsed beneath the surface.

Marlon grabbed five shot glasses, his movements deliberate as he poured whiskey into each one. You watched, almost entranced, as the amber liquid filled the glasses. Michael’s hand remained on your thigh, his grip firm, as if to anchor you in the moment. Marlon, with a determined look in his eyes, set the bottle aside and licked his lips, bracing himself for the challenge. Without hesitation, he began pounding back each shot, the glasses clinking as he downed them one after another.

“Marlon, slow down!” Carol’s voice cut through the air, but her concern was met with a dismissive wave. He didn’t listen, intent on completing the dare. With a final, defiant slam of the glass on the counter, he exhaled sharply. “I ain’t doing that again,” he muttered, his voice thick with the burn of the whiskey, before he staggered back over to the couch and plopped down with a satisfied grin.

Latoya chuckled, clearly amused by Marlon’s bravado. She turned her attention to Carol next, her tone light but with an edge of mischief. “Alright, Carol, truth or dare?”

Carol rolled her eyes, already anticipating the sort of trouble Latoya might stir up. “Truth, Latoya,” she said, her voice carrying a note of warning.

Latoya’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward slightly, her question poised to strike a nerve. “Have you ever cheated on Marlon?”

The room went still, all eyes snapping to Carol. Her face hardened, and she shot Latoya a look that could cut glass. “Never in my damn life,” she snapped, her voice ringing with conviction. “Toya, I love Marlon, and every one of you knows this.”

Latoya held up her hands in mock surrender, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “I’m just kidding, relax,” she said, though the glint in her eyes suggested she enjoyed pushing buttons. Then, her gaze shifted, locking onto Michael with a new challenge. “Michael, truth or dare?”

You felt Michael’s grip on your thigh tighten, the tension in his body palpable. He glanced at you, his brow furrowed slightly as he whispered, “Which one?”

You shrugged, your heart racing as you tried to keep your cool. “I don’t know,” you whispered back, though the anticipation of what might come next sent a thrill through you.

Michael licked his lips, a sign of his nerves or perhaps excitement, before answering. “Dare,” he said, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.

Latoya fell silent, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the two of you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the playful atmosphere shifting into something more charged. Her gaze drifted down to where Michael’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, her smirk widening as she pieced together the unspoken tension between you. “Hmm,” she mused, her tone laden with implication as she looked back at Michael, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She had something up her sleeve, and whatever it was, it was bound to stir up the night in a way neither of you could predict.

Her smirk widened as she leaned against the wall, her eyes locked on you and Michael. The air in the room grew thick with anticipation, the playful atmosphere now electrified with something deeper. Her gaze lingered on Michael’s hand, still possessively resting on your thigh, before she delivered her dare with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I dare you to make out with her,” she said, her voice dripping with challenge.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a jolt of shock ripple through you, but Michael remained unphased. His expression didn’t waver as he turned to you, then back to Latoya. “In front of you all?” he asked, his tone calm, as if he were merely discussing the weather.

Latoya’s smirk didn’t falter. She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as if daring him to refuse. “You claim you don’t have any feelings for her,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a knowing look, “I just want to see it with my own eyes.”

Michael’s gaze softened as he looked back at you, his brow raised in a silent question. “You okay with this?” he asked, his voice gentle, a quiet understanding passing between you.

Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your stomach, you nodded. There was something exhilarating about the dare, about the prospect of revealing the hidden truth that simmered just beneath the surface.

Michael’s thumb brushed your chin as he cupped your face, drawing you closer until your lips were just a breath apart. His warm breath fanned across your skin, and you hesitated for the briefest moment. “Just act like we’re in a room together,” Michael whispered, his voice so low that only you could hear, the intimate suggestion sending a shiver down your spine.

Closing your eyes, you leaned into the kiss, your lips meeting his in a slow, sensual dance. The world around you seemed to melt away as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth to playfully wrestle with yours. Michael’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer, the kiss becoming a private exchange of emotions you’d kept hidden for so long.

The room fell into a stunned silence, everyone’s attention riveted on the two of you. Jackie’s eyes widened in surprise, the sight of his little brother’s intensity catching him off guard. Marlon let out a low whistle, leaning back into the couch with a smirk. “Damn, Mike,” he muttered under his breath, impressed by Michael’s boldness.

When Michael finally pulled away, his hand lingered on your face as he wiped the faint trace of his saliva from your bottom lip. His eyes searched yours, filled with a tenderness that made your heart race. “You alright?” he whispered, his voice full of quiet concern, as if the room full of people no longer mattered.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, “I’m fine.” Yet every word was a facade, masking the tumultuous storm inside you. The kiss had awoken something primal, an insistent longing that had been simmering beneath the surface, fighting to escape. Michael’s gaze, intense and smoldering, mirrored your own restless desires. His eyes, dark with unspoken yearnings, made it clear that he was feeling the same electric charge that coursed between you.

Latoya, her gaze flickering between you and Michael, finally looked away, her expression a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. The game continued, but with each new dare, the atmosphere grew more charged. The challenges for you and Michael became increasingly audacious, pushing boundaries in a way that heightened the tension between you two. The dares seemed designed to escalate the already palpable desire, adding fuel to the fire that was burning ever more fiercely.

Michael’s touch was a paradox, an intoxicating mix of tenderness and torment. When he shrugged off his jacket, the soft fabric slid against your skin like a whisper, its weight settling over your lap as a shield from prying eyes, cocooning the two of you in an intimate bubble. His hand, warm and insistent, began its deliberate journey up your thigh, each touch a promise of what was to come. As his fingers reached the waistband of your skirt, they moved with the precision of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties to graze over your sensitive folds.

“Don’t moan,” he commanded, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a rough, husky whisper that sent shivers cascading down your spine. The deliberate slowness with which his fingers moved, exploring the wetness that had already begun to gather, made your breath hitch in your throat.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you fought to suppress the reactions his touch elicited. The warmth of his breath against your neck, combined with the tantalizing pressure of his fingers, was almost too much to bear. “Michael, slow down,” you managed to whisper, your voice a mix of desperation and need, but he ignored your plea, his fingers continuing their relentless exploration, each touch pushing you closer to the edge.

Just then, Latoya’s voice cut through the thick haze of desire, her tone playful yet demanding. “Michael, truth or dare?”

“Pardon?” Michael’s focus wavered for a brief moment, but his hand remained in place, his fingers never pausing.

“Truth or dare?” she repeated, her tone firm and unyielding, as if she were determined to break the spell he had cast over you.

Michael’s eyes flicked to hers, then back to you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Truth,” he said, his gaze lingering on your flushed face before he turned his attention back to Latoya.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she asked, “Is it true that you like her?” The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Michael’s gaze flickered between you and Latoya, a momentary pause before he answered. “Yes, I do,” he confessed, his voice steady and unashamed, even as his fingers resumed their rhythm, sliding deeper with a calculated precision that made you grip his thigh in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself.

“Y-you like me?” you stammered, the words barely escaping your lips as your breath quickened, your mind struggling to process both his confession and the sensations his touch was provoking.

Michael chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, vibrating against your ear. “You couldn’t tell by now?” he murmured, his fingers continuing their deliberate rhythm, each stroke perfectly aimed to drive you closer to the brink. “I’ve been throwing signs at you for a week, girl. I see you as more than just my best friend, and I think you know that.”

Jackie’s voice cut in, surprised yet amused. “Hey, at least she likes you too, Mike.”

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours once more, dark and intent, his fingers increasing their pace, pushing you perilously close to the edge. “You like me too?” he whispered, his voice a sultry murmur that sent another wave of heat coursing through your body.

“Yes, Michael,” you whimpered, the sound escaping despite your best efforts to stifle it.

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispered harshly, his breath warm against your ear, his fingers relentless in their pursuit, each stroke calculated to push you further.

You nodded, your head moving in a subtle, desperate motion, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Why’d you wait to tell me?” Michael’s voice was louder now, cutting through the haze of desire, demanding answers.

“Because I—I didn’t know how you’d react,” you admitted, your voice trembling with both the physical and emotional intensity of the moment.

Enid’s voice joined the mix, light and teasing. “You should have told him sooner. You two would make a cute husband and wife.”

Michael’s fingers never faltered, each movement precise and purposeful, driving you closer to the edge with every passing second. “You think so?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours, his focus entirely on you as he continued to push you closer to the brink.

“Yeah,” Enid replied, her voice filled with warmth. “She’d be a pretty Mrs. Jackson, and those babies would be adorable.”

Your eyes locked onto Michael’s, pleading with him, knowing that you were seconds away from losing control. The tension was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation, your peak so close you could almost taste it.

“Toya, can we end the game?” Michael asked, his voice tight with restraint as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

“Uh, yes, I was getting tired anyways,” she agreed, the conversation fading into the background as your focus narrowed to the sensations he was eliciting.

Michael nodded, his fingers still working their magic, the wet sounds of your arousal muffled beneath the barriers of clothes. “You two staying in here?” Jackie asked, his tone casual, oblivious to the intimate moment unfolding right beside him.

“Yeah, I need to talk to her,” Michael said, his tone firm. “We’ll clean up when we’re finished.”

“Alright then, goodnight, y’all,” Jackie said as they all left the room, the door closing with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone.

“Michael, I’m close,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Not yet,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a mix of command and desire. His hand moved to cover your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender.

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same way,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“But I do,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, your body teetering on the very edge of release. But Michael wasn’t done with you yet. His hand cupped your face, his touch firm, demanding your attention as he forced your eyes open. His gaze was piercing, a silent command that sent shivers through your entire being. “Don’t cum,” he ordered, his voice a low, commanding whisper. “Not yet. I know they’re still out there.” His hand moved to cover your mouth, silencing any sound that might escape as his fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, holding you on the brink, the tension in your body building to a fever pitch.

Unable to resist, you laid your head back against his shoulder, your hips instinctively grinding against his hand, seeking the release he was denying you. His fingers moved with precision, curving just right inside you, each pump intensifying the burning need in your core. Your body trembled with the effort to hold back, every muscle tensed, desperate for the permission to let go.

Michael’s focus shifted to the sounds around him, the creak of the stairs and the soft thud of doors closing one by one, signaling that everyone was finally retreating to their rooms for the night. It was only when the house fell silent, the last door clicking shut, that he leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “Let go.”

The words were your undoing. You moaned into his hand, your body shuddering as you came undone, the release you’d been denied flooding through you in powerful waves. Your moans were muffled against his palm, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure consumed you, every nerve in your body tingling with the intensity of it. Michael watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, then drifting down to your neck, lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, his gaze darkening as he took in the swell of your cleavage beneath your shirt.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing, “let go for me, babygirl.” His words were a gentle push that sent you spiraling even further into the bliss he’d so carefully crafted.

As the tremors subsided, Michael’s hand moved from your mouth, trailing down your neck with deliberate slowness, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He slipped his hand inside your shirt, cupping your breast, his thumb grazing over your hardened nipple through the fabric, sending another shiver through your already sensitive body.

“So,” he began, his fingers finally slowing their pace, the pressure easing just enough for you to catch your breath, “are we together now, or what?” His tone was casual, but the question carried weight, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You opened your eyes, still hazy with the aftermath of your release, and looked up at him. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice soft but certain, your head nodding slightly.

A smile spread across Michael’s face, a mixture of relief and satisfaction. He slowly withdrew his fingers from inside you, his touch lingering for a moment before he pulled his hand out from beneath your skirt. “Good,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking off every last trace of your essence with deliberate, lingering strokes. “Cause you’re coming on tour with me now.”

The words took a moment to register, your mind still foggy with the aftershocks of pleasure. “Really?” you asked, your breath still coming in shallow pants.

“Yes, really,” Michael chuckled, his tone light but firm. “I’m not leaving my girl behind, especially not for six months.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’m fine with that,” you replied, your voice tinged with exhaustion, yet filled with contentment.

Michael’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a soft tease.

You shook your head, the denial automatic, though your body betrayed you with the slight droop of your eyelids. “No, I’m not,” you lied, though the weariness was evident in your voice.

Michael’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand resting gently on your cheek. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone tender, giving you the space to express your needs.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your posture until you were straddling his lap, the hard bulge in his slacks pressing against you, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. Leaning in, you whispered against his lips, “I want you.”

Michael swallowed hard, his desire finally slipping past the restraint he’d maintained all night. His hands gripped your hips with a firm, almost possessive hold, pulling you closer until the heat of your bodies mingled. His eyes bore into yours, dark with intent as he bit his lip, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached between the two of you, fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. The sound of the zipper was almost deafening in the quiet room, a sharp contrast to the heavy breathing that filled the space. He unbuttoned his pants, and in one swift motion, he freed his hardened shaft, thick and pulsing with need. His hand moved deliberately, licking his palm before wrapping it around his length, stroking himself with a slow, purposeful rhythm. You both watched as the thick foreskin peeled back with each pump, revealing the sensitive, reddened tip beneath.

“Pull your panties to the side, baby,” Michael whispered, his voice low and rough with desire.

You stood, your knees trembling slightly as you hovered over him, your fingers slipping beneath your skirt to pull your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him. The cool air against your heated skin sent a shiver through you, heightening the anticipation.

Michael’s hands found your waist, his grip firm as he guided you into position. His eyes never left yours, dark and intense as he angled you just right. “Go down,” he instructed, his voice a husky command.

Slowly, you began to lower yourself onto his length, feeling the pressure as your walls stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was overwhelming, each inch of him thicker and more substantial than the last, the slight curve of his shaft pressing against just the right spot inside you. A gasp escaped your lips as you took him in deeper, your body adjusting to the intrusion.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

You sank down until you were fully seated on his lap, your breath hitching as you stifled a moan, the sensation of being filled so completely sending a wave of heat through your core. Your walls throbbed around him, your body instinctively tightening against the intrusion, but you relished the delicious stretch, the way his girth filled you so thoroughly, making you feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his length.

Michael held your gaze, his eyes burning with a mix of desire and something deeper, something more possessive. His hands moved to your hips, both of them gripping you firmly as he began to guide you, moving you up and down his shaft with a slow, deliberate pace. The friction was intense, the tightness between you both creating a sensation that was almost too much to bear.

You whimpered softly, the sound involuntary as you felt every inch of him sliding in and out, your body responding to each slow thrust with a shiver of pleasure. The sensation was so intense, so real, that it was almost overwhelming.

“This feels real now, doesn’t it?” Michael asked, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against your ear.

You nodded, your voice barely more than a whisper as you replied, “Yes, Michael.” The intimacy of the moment, the connection between you both, made it feel even more intense. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder, seeking comfort in the closeness.

Each slow, deliberate movement drove you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you existed. The rhythm of your bodies moving together, his length filling you completely with every glide, left you breathless and wanting. It was an unspoken language, a silent conversation between lovers, where every touch, every sigh, conveyed emotions too deep for words.

Michael’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his palms exploring the soft heat of your skin, savoring the feel of you. You took control, moving on his shaft with a slow, steady rhythm that drew soft whimpers from your lips. Each thrust sent a ripple of pleasure through you, the friction and fullness overwhelming your senses.

“You feel so good,” Michael murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he leaned his head back, his eyes closing to savor the sensations coursing through him. His hands on your waist tightened slightly, guiding you as he let himself feel everything—every emotion, every ounce of desire and connection that had been building between you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the soft curls at the nape, steadying yourself as you moved. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your heart swell. Leaning in close, you whispered against his neck, “I love you, Michael.”

His response was immediate, tender. “I love you more, pretty,” he whispered back, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. He turned his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, the simple act filled with affection and warmth.

Even though you weren’t in a room with a bed surrounded by candlelight, this moment felt more real and intimate than any romantic setting could have created. The rawness of your emotions, the honesty of your confessions, made it all the more powerful.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you moaned, the regret tinged with the pleasure you couldn’t hold back.

Michael’s hands slid back down to your waist, his grip firm but reassuring. “It’s fine, I’m not mad. Besides, I got the girl I’ve wanted for years,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness.

You looked at him, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “So, even before we started messing around?” you asked, the curiosity in your voice mingling with the heat building between you.

He nodded, his pace quickening just enough to heighten the sensation, his body shifting slightly to angle himself deeper inside you. “Yes, baby, even before then. I wanted you bad,” he confessed, his voice low and sincere.

The truth in his words sent a thrill through you, your heart racing as the connection between you deepened. A moan escaped your lips, your red-polished nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him. “Fuck…” you breathed, the intensity of your emotions leaving you raw and exposed.

Michael leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, the touch soft and teasing before he captured your mouth in a deep, heated kiss. The kiss was filled with everything you both felt—love, desire, longing—a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourself in him, in the rhythm of your bodies, in the undeniable connection that had finally been laid bare..

Michael’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more insistent as he wrapped his arms tightly around your core, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The muffled sounds of your bodies moving together echoed in the small room, each impact sending the bar stool scooting slightly across the hardwood floor, rocking back and forth under the force of your passion. But neither of you paid it any mind, lost in the heat of the moment, in the intoxicating rhythm you’d created together.

The kiss between you deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate. His groans mingled with your moans, the sounds blending into one muffled symphony of pleasure. Your lips moved in perfect sync, a dance of passion and need that left you both breathless. His tongue brushed against yours, the sensation sparking a fresh wave of heat that coursed through your veins, intensifying the connection between you.

Your arousal coated Michael’s length in a glistening sheen, the evidence of your desire dripping down to the base of his shaft and soaking through his white linen briefs. Each thrust pushed him deeper inside you, the slickness of your arousal allowing him to move within you with ease, filling you completely with every stroke.

Michael held you close, his grip firm yet tender, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. The intensity of his thrusts sent shivers down your spine, your body responding to him with a desperate hunger that matched his own. The room around you blurred, the only thing that mattered was the feel of him inside you, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, the undeniable connection that pulsed between you with every beat of your hearts.

“Michael,” you whispered against his lips, the word barely audible as your breath hitched in your throat. The heat between you was almost unbearable, your body trembling with the need for release.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured in response, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. His grip on you tightened as he thrust deeper, each movement more powerful than the last, driving you both closer to the edge.

Michael’s words washed over you, his deep voice filled with a promise that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of your being. You moaned softly in response, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar, intoxicating scent that had become a part of you over the years. The two of you moved in perfect sync, each thrust meeting the other in a seamless rhythm, your arousal slickening him further, dripping down to the base of his shaft as your bodies melded together.

Michael’s hands roamed your body with a reverence that made your heart swell, tracing every curve as if trying to commit every inch of you to memory, though you both knew he had already memorized it all long ago. His touch was firm, yet tender, exploring you with a mix of passion and devotion that left you trembling with need.

“Harder,” you moaned against his neck, your voice a breathy plea that he couldn’t ignore.

In response, Michael’s thrusts became more powerful, each one driving deeper into you, filling you completely. His grunts echoed in the small room, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I’m gonna give you everything, girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and desire. “I promise.”

You moaned again, your core tightening, burning with the need for release, but you held on, savoring every moment, every sensation. You didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to let go of the connection that had you both entwined so completely.

Michael could feel the tension building within you, your walls pulsing around his thick length as he drove into you. “You close, aren’t you?” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“Yes…” you breathed, the word barely escaping as a soft moan against his neck.

“Then let it go,” he urged, his voice a soothing command. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel you.”

“But I want this to last,” you moaned, your voice filled with longing.

“It will, baby,” he whispered, his words a tender reassurance. “It’ll always last.”

You lifted your head, capturing his lips in a deep, urgent kiss, your core burning hotter, the need for release becoming almost unbearable. Michael’s hands slid down to grip your behind, his large hands tightening around you as he guided your movements.

“I can’t hold on, Michael,” you moaned, your voice trembling with the effort to stay in control.

“Just let go, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his tone soft but insistent. “I told you, let go for me.”

With his words pushing you over the edge, you began to move faster, taking control, driving yourself toward release. Your legs trembled as you rode him, your pace quickening until you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. Finally, with a muffled cry against his neck, you released, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you, your walls clenching around him as you came undone.

Michael’s grip on you tightened, his own release nearing as he felt your body convulse around him. With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body stiffening as he released, spilling his warmth deep within you. He moaned your name, his voice raw and filled with need, as he filled you completely, emptying every last drop inside you.

The two of you clung to each other, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the moment, your breaths heavy and ragged. Michael lifted your head, his eyes soft as he gazed at you, your forehead damp with sweat, your eyes still closed in bliss.

Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on your lips, watching as your eyes fluttered open to meet his. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice gentle and filled with sincerity.

“I love you,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath, completely blissed out from the intimacy and affection that you had just shared.

“You alright?” Michael asked, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender and concerned.

You nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. “I’m just tired,” you murmured, the weight of the night’s emotions settling in.

Michael nodded, understanding. “How about you go lay down on the couch? I’ll clean us up, then I’ll take care of this mess, and we can crash on the couch till morning,” he suggested, his voice soft and reassuring.

You nodded again, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “That’s fine,” you agreed, your body already craving the comfort of rest.

Michael helped you up, his hands steadying you as you rose from his lap. He watched, almost mesmerized, as the evidence of your shared passion began to slip from your body, coating him in a warm, intimate sheen. “Damn…” he muttered under his breath, a mix of awe and satisfaction in his tone. Reaching for the roll of paper towels behind him, he carefully wiped himself clean, his movements slow and deliberate.

Once he was done, Michael adjusted himself, tucking his shaft back into his briefs and smoothing out his clothes. Then, he turned his attention back to you, gently cleaning the remnants from your inner thigh. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if he was savoring every last moment of closeness.

“Now go lay down,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You nodded and made your way over to the sofa, kicking off your shoes as you settled onto it. The cushions felt soft and welcoming as you pulled a blanket over yourself, watching through half-lidded eyes as Michael moved around the room, tidying up the remnants of your night—empty juice bottles, liquor bottles, and scattered red solo cups.

When he was done, Michael walked over to the door and flicked off the lights, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow from the lights outside. It created a serene, almost magical atmosphere, perfect for the quiet moment that followed.

Michael kicked off his loafers and slid onto the couch beside you, slipping under the blanket and pulling you close. You nuzzled into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your cheek. “You think they’ll say something?” you asked, your voice drowsy as you burrowed deeper into his warmth.

Michael shrugged lightly, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “Can’t say much if they don’t know,” he replied. “But they’ll get the hint.”

You smiled sleepily, feeling content and safe in his arms. “I love you, Michael. I really do. But I didn’t think a game of truth or dare would bring it out,” you confessed, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

Michael’s own tired chuckle rumbled through his chest. “At least we both know now,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you. But just know, I’ve loved you for a while now. You’re always so sweet to me, so kind and loving.” His eyes met yours, the connection between you deepening with each word. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You smiled, leaning up to place a tender kiss on his lips. “Goodnight, Michael. I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you too,” he whispered back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you drift off to sleep.

For a while, Michael stayed awake, taking in the reality of what had just happened, of how you had gone from best friends to something much more. It was a moment that should have happened long ago, but he felt grateful that it had finally come.

Eventually, he allowed himself to relax, his eyes growing heavy as he held you close. As sleep claimed him, a smile of contentment and love spread across his face, mirroring yours as you slept in his arms. This was just the beginning of something beautiful—a new chapter in your lives, one that you both knew would last.

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A BAD NEED

(michael’s so delicious and you can’t take it…) | 1.3k words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , oral (m!receiving) , sexual themes

through the front door to the foyer, you laughed into each other’s necks, holding each other close as if there were still prying eyes to lose. you turned no lights on, your eyes were far more keen on devouring each other. and michael could navigate his fortress with as much ease in the dark, even if he was blinded with his hands tied behind his back, so his lips seek to capture yours, he didn’t have to think twice.

“you’re so bad…” michael snickers as your lips connect, recounting the touches you just shared, as secretly as you could muster, in the back of his car.

“you started it…” you whine, coaxing him by the collar to keep his lips on you.

he practically cradles you as you move up the long staircase, his grip both on his banister and the nape of your neck, your hold so loose and lax around his bending shoulders. your arms lift, up and up. your lips mimick each other like a symphony; some kisses lingering, some deep, and deeper still with his so-wet tongue lacing yours with slow, decadent slips melting into melodic hums. as you gracefully ascend to the top of the landing, the light of the night reaches all around you through his tall, reverent windows. the two of you dance, it seemed, to the hallway where you stop him now. you couldn’t handle another step longer without feeling him.

you can’t tell if it was the liquor or him. you’ve been drinking both up all night, though michael has all the more power per volume than any bottle could keep. than any drink could punish you, you thought, with so much need and lust. what michael gives to you--does to you-- burns your body white hot, melts you hollow in your party dress every single time.

when you stop him, he holds your back with a widened palm to keep you close. you sway until you find each other, hip to hip, warmth pooling through both of your epicenters with love so exquisite, it tingled heartily through the both of you, being this close.

gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, so nicely steamed and silky even after a night of everyone fawning over him, you sigh into yet another riff of his tongue, sounding almost as if you were crying.

“michael,” you moan in between kissing. you can’t believe you're his. you can't fathom the beauty of him, so close and for you to touch. a hand goes to his face and cuts into his long, thick hair as if it would get him any closer. “oh, michael.”

“what?” he echoes back to you, a cocky smile forming, widening as he explores the feeling of his teeth now nudging against your open lips. “what is it, baby?”

your lips don’t answer with the words he wanted, just kissed and kissed him. on his cheek, along his chin, and down lower to suck the sinew of his neck, licking with a bad need along his exposed collar beneath the buttons that you’ve been skillfully undoing in all your desperation.

michael moans in awe of you, letting out a husky breath as he tries to make room for your mouth, his hand still holding you, squeezing your body at the jolt of every touch on his sensitive skin. “what’re you doin’?” he asks, playing at cluelessness.

your open mouth continues all down his body, hands bracing you as you slide down his clothed chest, his rib cage, his stomach. “i-i can’t take it…” your statement comes out in sobs, longing so deep it chokes you.

michael laughs slowly, his eyes staying on you, “i knew it…you’ve had that look in your eye all night…” your face buries into the ridge in the crotch of his dress pants, kissing his groin and legs with your hot, open mouth. michael hears you sniffle, his teeth sinking deeper into his swelling lip. “like you want somethin,’” he adds, sadistically, to his teasing, but you barely hear him over the drunkenness that’s found you.

you cross to his right hand, near shaking as you kiss the back of his fingers, feel his hard knuckles press against the tip of your nose. you love this. worshipping him. his breath, elated, getting louder and louder in your ears, his lust coming over him to whisper his nastiest thoughts to you, watching you, his body unable to do much else but melt and give in... his other hand adjusts himself over his pants quickly, a way to relieve his ache.

his fingertips crawl along your bottom lip, curious. then feel your cheek and hold your parted jaw. following your head as you sit back on your heels, he watches you tilt back and open your mouth. he gives you his thumb with a sly smile.

“you’re—“ he breaks into a fit of giggles when your tongue tickles the underside—“you’re such a bad girl…”

his affirmation finds you in a hum, glittering his voice as you latch around his thumb, then his first finger inches its way inside, then his middle, long and smooth, relieves his thumb so he could focus on adding his ring finger, playing with them on your tongue to remind himself of how you’ll feel on him for real.

your head spins in the bliss, savoring the salty taste between each long ridge that dissolves and flows back down your throat. you rock a little, lifting your dress higher on your legs before taking his fingers out of your mouth. with a bit less grace in the darkness, you start to undo his belt, feeling inside his parted slacks for his underwear, soft fabric pushing toward you, wanting you to feel him.

“baby…” you gasp, awed by his firmness growing long against your palm. you take out your hand, pulling his pants further down on his thighs.

“c’mon, you’re playin’ too much,” he gusts, a childish frustration running over his senses, and you bite back a giggle at his eagerness, a nerve to tease him further, before you reach back inside, concentrating on pulling him out all the way.

then his voice came to you again, he was always so light, so sweet. “look at me,” he coos, softly, “look at me while you’re doin’ it.” and his large hand, so gently calm, moves to encourage you, on the back of your head.

but he’s a gentleman, so he lets go of your head and lifts his arms up, holding his hair back to let him see you better. he’d always told you everything of his was yours.

you just take what’s yours, baby, he’d tell you.

so there was never any hesitation when you look up at him with the dreamy eyes he loves so bad, and slide his dick in your mouth. suckling as it stretches out your lips and you bob a little deeper, eyes blinking closed with a satisfied moan that rumbles in your throat.

“oh, baby…yes,” michael sighs, lifting the hem of his shirt above his belly, fingers splayed out wide and rattling a little with each gust of breath.

soon he can’t help it, his hands hold your head, and he’s dragging his hips back and forth into you, as much as you can take, taking pleasure from the easy slide of your blissful mouth, your warm, raised tongue creating a holy place, a ring of fire in him. a moan accompanies his hands sewing into your hair, gritted teeth follows his head lolling back. he closes his eyes and whines, out of breath, “never felt so good…”

a quiet stomp comes down beside you from his readjusted leg. he’s trembling, heart sprinting, he sees his peak coming soon; faster and faster as it comes down in waves from his shoulder blades, crashing lightning into his belly and pooling finally around his still-moving hips.

michael’s head falls back down to watch you. “look at me, baby,” he says again, his voice hushed and pleading. your eyes slide up, wet now; your eyebrows knitting, so he can watch the precious wrinkle show in your forehead. the one he sees when he knows you’re feeling just as good as him. the thought overwhelms him, and he looks so sweet and helpless to you, his face crinkling now as he lets out a final groan, his orgasm so fast, you grab hold of his thigh to steady him, a pretty little whine curling out of you in reply.

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