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lesbianphan · 2 months ago

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One single thread of gold (tied me to you)

Genre: fluff, 2024!phan, tooth-rotting fluff, very little plot just fluff

Words: 1.4K

Pairing: Phan

Summary:

"Time, mystical time Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?"

Just a cute little fluffy one to celebrate the 15 years of Dan and Phil the best way I know how: through RPFing, of course!

Read on AO3

Authors note: Happy phannieversary! This community has been the best thing to happen to me, I'm always so thankful to be able to nerd out about my parassocial love for these gays with all of you. Hope you enjoy this fluffy offering I put together in one night, cause I couldn't stand the idea of letting a day this special go by without posting anything (FIFTEEN YEARS OF PHAN, MAN!). Hope you enjoy this silly fluffy one <3 No beta, all mistakes are mine alone!

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“Aww,” Phil coos at his phone screen, and Dan looks up from his own, quizzically turning his head to glance at Phil’s screen. They’re sitting on their rather large sofa, but, as usual, are all up in each other’s personal space.

‘What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” Phil stammers slightly, continuing to scroll, slightly embarrassed by looking at shipping content of them during their free time.

“I see how it is now,” Dan mocks, “you’re gatekeeping cute videos from me. What’s it you’re playing at, Lester?” There's no real heat behind his words, but Dan’s frowning quite a bit, insulted he would ever hide anything from him.

“Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss,” Phil giggles, absentmindedly continuing to scroll his feed.

Dan huffs a frustrated sound, as he turns back to his own phone and continues his own doom scrolling, head now resting on Phil’s shoulder. He keeps chancing glances at his screen, like Phil somehow wouldn’t notice. He doesn’t mind, though. Phil could theoretically just tell Dan his little outburst was about something their audience posted about them, and he would probably leave it alone after that. Still, Phil had decided years ago that winding Dan up was way more fun anyways, so he didn’t bother.

A few more minutes go by in silence. It’s funny how a lot of their time is spent like this, scrolling on screens in the comfort of each other’s company. No matter where they are, this feels like home, just spending time next to Dan doing nothing in particular. Ever since the skype days, it’s been this way for them. He feels his heart skip a beat at the thought of fifteen years having almost gone by already. The craziest years of his life, and yet the ones that truly felt like living, breathing easier, finally feeling like he belonged with someone.

Okay, maybe the cute post got to him a little bit. Just a tiny bit. Phil found himself staring down at Dan’s curly head of hair, resting against his shoulder as he furiously typed something on his screen. He feels the urge to run his fingers through Dan’s hair, but they do have to see real people in a bit, and Dan would throw a fit if he messed up his hair.

“Freak,” Dan says, without looking up at him at first, “why are you being weird, bitch?”

“Hmm, am not!” he protests, a little bit squeaky, giving his lie away a little.

Dan finally looks up then, and his eyes are like honey, melty and beautiful in the sunlight coming in through the window of the home they built together. Phil feels his breath hitch a little and Dan’s eyebrows go up higher as he accesses him.

“Are you dying on me again?” he says, looking him up and down. He’s exaggerating, sure. But he does seem to worry about Phil a whole lot more these days, after everything.

“Nah, not right now,” he replies, casually draping his arm around Dan’s waist and holding him closer, “just… guess I like you a little bit, maybe.”

“Right,” Dan laughs, his private little laugh. Just for them, “I’ll remind you of that next time you’re too lazy to get off your ass and grab me a glass of water, leaving me to die of thirst,” he tuts, teasingly, but snuggles closer to Phil, pliant and easy as ever, “gonna tell the kids you’re being absolutely useless again, passenger princess.”

“Hey,” Phil protests, but a giggle betrays him, “you won’t tell the kids shit! They love me, you know?”

“They sure do,” he says, thoughtfully, “but that’s never stopped me before”, Dan seems to be getting more and more comfy, his head fully resting on Phil’s chest, who reckons he might be more comfortable if he went for a proper cuddle. But Dan had always been stubborn and a little picky on his need for affection, so disturbing him might be a terrible play and make him leave for a while. Phil was feeling more than a little clingy at the moment, so he’d take what he could get.

When he goes back to scrolling on his phone, Phil notices Dan’s phone lying forgotten next to them on the couch, and Dan seems to be getting heavier and heavier against him. He isn’t sure if he should let him doze off, or if that would be a terrible idea and give him a headache afterwards. He should probably do something about that, really, but to be honest he was feeling a little selfish, and having Dan’s warm body clinging to him was one of his favorite feelings. He decides if Dan’s gonna fall asleep there’s no harm in actually messing with his hair, so he starts to scratch at his head, always endlessly fascinated by the soft curls.

“Ummm that’s so nice, don’t stop,” Dan moans, hands gripping Phil’s shirt. “Ew, you made it weird,” he complained, continuing to pet his very own weird guy, lovingly.

“Did not,” Dan says, “your hands feel really good.”

“Sure, rat.”

They stay in silence a little while longer. Phil stopped scrolling on his phone, contemplating his own thoughts, as he cards his fingers through Dan’s hair. To Dan’s credit, he did stop moaning about it now, but still he’s as close to purring as a human being could actually get, Phil reckons.

“Will you tell me what that was about earlier?” Dan asks, slightly mumbled. Phil understands him perfectly, ‘cause of course he does.

“Do you really want me to?” he asks and Dan shrugs. That’s when Phil knows maybe it’s no longer time to keep joking and pushing his buttons; there might be some real insecurity behind this. They’ve decided years ago to become better at communicating feelings, and they work on it as much as they can, so he asks “would you tell me why?”

“Weird brain day,” Dan admits, meeting Phil’s eyes, “feels weird being left out of… anything today, basically.”

“Oh,” he feels his stomach sink a little, “ you should have said!”

“Just did,” Dan shrugs, holding Phil’s hand just because he can, and he’s through denying himself little comforts such as this.

“I don’t know if I can find the post again, honest,” Phil said, interlacing their fingers together deep in thought, “but it was a gifset of… well, us. And it was about that whole… invisible string thing?” he shrugs, and Dan’s eyes are getting a little shinier than he expected by bringing this up, “I know you think all of this fate talk is rather silly, but… I think it’s quite sweet that they seem to think there was a big plan for us, don’t you?” he feels his own tone getting reverent, almost whispery.

Dan looks down at their interlaced hands and squeezes, taking a deep breath. Phil isn’t sure if he’s in one of his “yap through the pain” sort of moods, or if he just wants some peaceful company. It really varies with Dan. He’s learnt to let him take the lead in days like these, and just be there for him all the while. Sometimes it’s all he can truly offer.

“You know, I used to think life was incredibly bleak until… well, you.” Dan shrugs, meeting his eyes again, soul laid bare, only for him, “I may not believe in fate, but I don’t think I’ve ever stopped really believing in this,” he points between them, “I don’t think that… ever really changed for me. So I don’t think it truly matters if we were tied by fate, if all this was meant to happen or just completely random. It’s always been you.” Phil sees the tears brimming in Dan’s eyes, and he feels his own eyes getting wet in return, chest swelling with the amount of feeling he has to fit in there. It feels like it could never fit, yet it always does.

He doesn’t say anything at all. It doesn’t quite matter what the right words are. He just reaches out and pulls Dan to his chest, holding him tight, kissing the top of his head and swaying them gently on the couch. He feels Dan’s tears on his shirt and he hums the first tune that comes into his mind, holding the love of his life against his chest, his entire world between his arms, right there. Breathing, alive, heart beating fast, filled to the brim with so much love and kindness. His absolute favorite person in the whole wide world, within his reach.

Doesn’t matter how or why, if it’s by fate or pure coincidence, this is real and it’s theirs. Only theirs.

#phanfic #phan #phan fluff #fluff #fanfiction #2024!phan #rpf #my writing #my phanfic brings all the gays to the yard #thanks for reading #hope you like it!#I decided to crosspost here cause why not yk #phanfiction

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mjwhisperer · 3 months ago

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𝚅𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕

2007

Los Angeles/Japan

Word Count: 9.1k

Tags: Fem!Reader, Mature era MJ, Late Night Conversation, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Intimacy, Married Couple, Phone Sex, Large pp

It was late, the kind of night that settled deep in your bones, the air cool and still in early March. The house was blanketed in silence, the only sounds coming from the low hum of the air conditioning circulating through the vents, and the faint chime of your laptop powering up as you placed it on the bed. Your fingers were slightly shaky from exhaustion as you slipped out of your towel and into a smooth, purple satin nightgown, its fabric cool against your skin. You’d spent the whole day chasing after your two daughters—playing games, watching movies, even making a trip down to the local library. You remembered their excited squeals as they picked out books, eager for their father to quiz them later, a little competition they relished for the promise of toys or treats.

Michael had been gone for a few weeks now, whisked off to Japan for work. The house felt emptier without him, though he’d thought ahead, leaving gifts behind to ease the time apart. A brand-new laptop, gleaming on the bed, and a desktop in your office, all set up by his team. The laptop was for those precious nightly calls, a thread connecting you across the distance. He used it to check in on the girls, his voice filtering through the speakers as they giggled and updated him on their day. But tonight was for just the two of you.

Every other night, you’d Skype him before bed. Sometimes he’d stay on the line as you drifted off, the soft glow of his screen the last thing you’d see before sleep took over, and in the morning, you’d wake to a message, a “good morning” from halfway across the world.

You reached up, tugging the towel loose from your hair, letting the damp strands cascade down your back. You ran a hand through them absentmindedly, hoping they’d dry before you fell asleep. In the bathroom, you hung the towel on the railing, the cool tile beneath your feet grounding you. Suddenly, the sharp, familiar ring of an incoming call echoed from the bedroom. Heart racing slightly, you darted out of the bathroom, a smile already tugging at your lips as you tossed yourself onto the bed. Quickly adjusting yourself in front of the camera, you moved the mouse and clicked the green button.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was—Michael, your husband, looking effortlessly handsome, just as he always did. The soft glow of the hotel suite’s ambient lighting bathed his tanned skin, making it gleam in a way that made your breath catch. His white button-up was carelessly half undone, offering a teasing glimpse of his broad, familiar chest, muscles shifting slightly beneath the fabric. His eyes locked onto yours through the screen, and in that instant, the world outside the room felt distant. The unspoken intimacy between you pulled taut, like a thread drawn through space, bridging the miles that separated you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a rich, low rumble that had always felt like a caress against your skin. Though softened by the miles between you, it still held that warmth, that velvety tone that made your heart ache with want.

You smiled softly, the weight of the day easing a little. “Hi, baby. I miss you,” you breathed, pulling the laptop closer, feeling its warmth on your legs as you nestled back against the pillows—his pillows, on his side of the bed. The scent of him lingered faintly, a subtle reminder of his presence even though he was half a world away.

He cleared his throat, a familiar gesture, the kind of small movement you’d cataloged over the years. “How was your day? How are my girls?” His voice was tinged with that quiet yearning, and though it was a simple question, it carried the weight of his absence.

You yawned, exhaustion creeping up on you but still softened by the sound of his voice. “It was good. The girls are great. We had some much-needed mother-daughter time,” you replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips as you thought back on the day.

Michael chuckled softly, his laugh a low, rolling sound that always sent a shiver through you. He shrugged the shirt off entirely, revealing the sculpted lines of his body beneath, half-dressed but every bit the man who always held your gaze. “That’s good. What did you all do? I’d like to hear about it,” he said, standing and stepping out of view, leaving only the rumpled pillows in sight.

“Well,” you began, watching the empty space, “This morning, they begged me to make French toast. I warned them it wouldn’t be as good as yours, but they insisted. So, I gave in, and honestly, it was a disaster.”

From across the room, Michael’s laugh echoed back, warm and teasing. “I had a feeling,” he said, his voice drifting to you like a memory, one of those quiet moments shared in the kitchen, his hands guiding yours.

You laughed too, the memory making you feel closer. “After that, they helped me clean up, and we blasted some of your music. They wanted to do it your way.”

You absently twisted the hem of your nightgown, the silky fabric soft between your fingertips, a calming motion. Michael hummed in response, that deep, knowing sound, and you could picture his expression even without seeing his face.

He returned to the camera, picking up the laptop with a familiar ease. “You’re coming with me,” he said, his tone playful yet commanding in a way that always made you feel warm inside. You watched as he carried the laptop with him, the camera shaking slightly as he walked into the bathroom. He set it down on the counter, the lighting now bright, reflecting off the mirror as he turned toward it.

You gazed at him through the screen, watching as he began wiping the makeup from his face. There was something vulnerable, yet undeniably captivating about seeing him like this—just him, bare, the years of his beauty laid plain before you. The faint traces of pigment on his skin from his vitiligo, a contrast of dark and light that you had memorized, faded but still so distinctly him. He wiped away the eyeliner, his eyes catching yours in the mirror.

“What else did my beautiful girls get up to?” he asked, his voice softer now, as though you two were the only ones in the world.

You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself as your mind wandered to other thoughts. “We played a few board games, some chess and checkers, before watching a movie together. Then, we headed down to the library—of course, they want you to quiz them when you get back. They saw a doll they really liked, and you know what that means.”

Michael chuckled, the sound like a soft rumble through the screen. “Which books did they pick out?”

You grinned, a knowing look in your eyes. “Take a guess.”

He paused, his gaze lowering toward the camera, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t tell me…” he drawled.

You tilted your head, teasingly. “Harry Potter, of course. They’re little nerds, just like their daddy.”

Michael rolled his eyes dramatically, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They get it from their mother, and you know it. Don’t even start with me,” he teased as he wiped the last bit of eyeliner away.

Watching him like this—just Michael, stripped of the layers the world usually saw, his skin soft and bare beneath the hotel lighting—filled you with an aching warmth. The familiarity of him was both comforting and magnetic, the way his face softened without the lines of makeup, the way his presence filled the space even through the distance. For a moment, it felt as though there were no miles between you, just the two of you connected in the intimacy of the night, the quiet hum of his hotel suite and the steady rhythm of your breathing the only sounds.

He broke the silence, his voice low and tender. “What else?” he asked, leaning forward on the counter, his gaze locked on yours through the screen. His eyes, those deep, expressive eyes, pulled you in further, making the distance seem even smaller. “I want to hear everything,” he murmured, his tone laced with gentle insistence, the kind that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he wanted to listen to.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, the gentleness of his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. “After we got home, we had dinner. The girls were quiet for the rest of the night, didn’t really bother me, except to say goodnight. So, I took a long, hot bubble bath, washed my hair, did a little cleaning… oh, and I rearranged your closet,” you said, your voice trailing off at the end as your fingers absently traced the edge of the laptop, your mind replaying the small moments of the evening.

Michael nodded, his eyes lingering on you, his gaze sharp but soft at the same time, drinking you in. “New nightgown?” he asked, his voice husky as his eyes trailed over the satin draping your body.

You nodded, the faintest flush creeping into your cheeks. “Yeah, got it the other day. Along with a few others—champagne, black, royal blue, pink, and of course… red,” you teased softly, knowing that last color always sparked something in him. “Your favorite.”

His lips parted slightly as his tongue swept across them, the small gesture making your stomach tighten. “It looks beautiful on you,” he said, voice thickening just a touch. “Never realized purple was your color.”

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eye. “Neither did I. Something new, I guess.”

For a moment, his eyes didn’t leave yours, a heat rising between the two of you as he stared at you with that familiar intensity, like he could reach through the screen and touch you. His gaze was heavy, full of something deeper, something simmering just beneath the surface.

“How are you?” you asked softly, breaking the tension just enough, your voice tender and full of care.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly under your gaze. “I’m doing well… tired, but nothing I’m not used to,” he said, the exhaustion lining his voice in a way that tugged at your heart.

You sighed, a hint of worry slipping into your voice. “You shouldn’t have to be used to that, baby. Why didn’t you get some rest?”

His lips curved into a small, almost bashful smile. “Wanted to call my pretty girl before she went off to sleep. You know I can’t go without hearing your voice,” he said, straightening up, the affection in his voice unmistakable. There was something about the way he said it, the way his words held you, that made your heart race a little faster.

Your eyes, almost without thinking, traced the lines of his body. He was still half-dressed, the lower half of him clad in black slacks with delicate golden elephants embroidered all over them, an eccentric touch that was so distinctly Michael. But your gaze lingered on more than just the intricate details of his pants—your eyes caught on the subtle but unmistakable outline of his arousal pressing against the fabric, and heat flushed through your body. God, he could never stay down.

Michael noticed your wandering gaze, his eyebrow arching in that teasing, knowing way of his. “What are you looking at, doll?” he asked, reaching for a comb and dragging it through his silky, straightened hair with the slow, precise movements that were second nature to him.

You shook your head quickly, feeling the flush rise in your cheeks. “Nothing, baby. Just you, that’s all,” you lied, your voice a little breathless, trying to pull your mind away from the growing tension in your body.

But Michael wasn’t fooled. His eyes bore into you, and you could feel his attention sharpening, feel him leaning into the moment even from across the screen. “Tell me,” he insisted, his voice low and commanding, a tone you knew well—one that made you melt, one you could never quite resist.

You shook your head again, heat flooding your cheeks and a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “It’s nothing, Michael,” you said, but the lie was transparent, and you both knew it.

His gaze dropped for a brief moment, then returned to yours, and the silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken desire. You knew he could tell. You knew he’d seen the way your eyes lingered on him, the way your breath caught just slightly when your gaze met his. And just as surely as you’d noticed him, you felt it in yourself too—the subtle quickening of your pulse, the way your body was beginning to respond, the slow rise of heat pooling low in your belly.

Even though the miles separated you, you felt the pull as if he were standing right in front of you, the connection between you undeniable, magnetic, intimate.

The screen’s glow softened his features, but there was nothing soft about the way Michael stared at you. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, and though the silence stretched, it was thick with everything unspoken. You shifted slightly under his gaze, the silk of your nightgown brushing your skin, making you even more aware of the heat pooling in your belly.

“Tell me,” he repeated, his voice lower, more insistent this time, that commanding edge unmistakable.

You bit your lip, hesitating. His stare was piercing, and even though you were miles apart, it felt like he was right there, hovering over you, demanding an answer. “Michael, it’s nothing,” you lied again, but the tension in your voice betrayed you, the way it came out in a soft, breathless rush.

He let out a soft, almost amused chuckle, shaking his head, his long fingers sliding through his hair as he set the comb down. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that, right?” His smile was small but knowing, like he could read every thought running through your mind.

You swallowed, feeling your face grow warm. “I’m not lying,” you whispered, though your voice was barely convincing even to yourself.

Michael’s gaze dropped lower, his eyes trailing down the screen, taking in the way the nightgown clung to your body, the way you fidgeted slightly under his attention. “Uh-huh,” he hummed, leaning back against the counter, his arms folding across his chest. “Then why are you staring at me like that, doll?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wasn’t—”

He raised an eyebrow, cutting you off. “Yes, you were.” His voice dipped lower, soft and velvety but with a hard edge. “You’re looking at me like you want something. And you’re not saying what.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the pull between you two becoming impossible to ignore. His voice, the way he was staring at you, made it hard to think straight. “I… wasn’t trying to,” you stammered, but your voice trailed off.

Michael’s lips curled into a sly smile. “You don’t have to try, baby,” he said, his voice now a murmur that sent shivers through you. “I can feel it from here.”

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you as you shifted again, the silk of the nightgown sliding against your skin, making you even more aware of your own growing arousal.

His gaze followed the movement, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes darkening with intent. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm?” he asked, his voice low and intimate, like he was pulling the confession out of you. “Tell me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “It’s just… you,” you admitted finally, the words slipping out, soft and barely audible.

Michael’s smile widened, something darker flashing in his eyes. “Just me?”

You nodded, unable to look away from him. “Yeah. Just… you.”

He leaned in closer to the camera, his face filling the screen, his eyes holding yours with a steady, burning intensity. “And what about me, doll? What is it you’re thinking?”

Your mouth went dry, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable as your body reacted to his words, his tone. You could feel the desire curling inside you, sharp and demanding, but you hesitated.

Michael’s gaze flickered downward, catching on the way your chest rose and fell, the way your body subtly shifted on the bed, and he let out a low, quiet breath. “You’re getting worked up, aren’t you?” he said, his voice like silk, sliding over you, pulling you in.

You didn’t answer, but your body spoke for you—the slight tremble in your hand, the way your thighs pressed together beneath the sheets. He could see it all, even from across the screen, and that knowledge made your heart race.

“Say it,” he demanded softly, his voice leaving no room for anything but the truth. “Tell me what you want.”

You bit your lip, your heart pounding as you held his gaze, the tension between you tightening like a coil. You could feel the heat rising inside you, your body screaming for him, even through the screen. “I want you,” you whispered, the confession slipping from your lips like a plea.

Michael’s eyes darkened further, a spark of satisfaction lighting in them as he straightened up, his chest rising and falling as if your words had sent a shiver through him too. “That’s better,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, your body responding before your mind could catch up. The air between you two was charged, alive with tension that seemed to hum in your veins. Michael stood there, his fingers gripping the counter, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly as he leaned closer, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. The screen between you felt thin, like a veil you could almost tear through if you just reached out far enough.

“And what do you want me to do, doll?” His voice had roughened, deepened with desire. The question lingered in the air, pulling you in, tightening the pull between you.

Your lips parted, a shiver running through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as you barely whispered, “I want you to touch me.” The words slipped out almost involuntarily, soft but loaded with the weight of your need.

Michael’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile that made your skin flush hot. He leaned back, letting his eyes sweep over you, devouring every inch even through the screen. “Then show me where you want me to touch you,” he said, the command in his voice unmistakable, the anticipation crackling between you.

Your lips trembled at his words, unsure yet utterly captivated by his intensity. “Right now?” you asked, your voice almost shaking with the sudden rush of heat.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Right now,” he murmured, his voice velvet and steel. “Is the bedroom door locked?”

You glanced over at the door, your heart racing. “No,” you whispered.

“Go lock it for me,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Then take off that pretty nightgown. We don’t need it getting messy, do we?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a spark of anticipation light deep inside you. You nodded, lifting the laptop carefully from your lap and setting it down on the bed. Your feet touched the cool hardwood floor, grounding you as you crossed the room, the click of the lock in the quiet room feeling like the beginning of something inevitable.

As you dimmed the lights, casting the room in a soft, intimate glow, you caught your reflection in the mirror—your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly in anticipation. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled the nightgown over your head, letting the satin slip down your body before laying it neatly on your side of the bed. You couldn’t help but glance back at the screen, feeling Michael’s eyes on you even from miles away.

When you crawled back onto the bed, bare now, the cool sheets beneath you a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your body, you felt his gaze lock onto your form. His breath hitched softly through the speakers, his eyes darkening further as he leaned against the bathroom wall.

“Look at you,” Michael whispered, his voice low and reverent, laced with desire. “So sexy.”

You smiled, your heart pounding with the thrill of his words. “Thank you, baby,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly.

Michael pushed off the wall, his body moving with the kind of grace that always left you breathless. He walked back to the counter, setting the laptop down and adjusting the angle so he could see you more clearly. “Lay back for me, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a gentle command that made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Let me see you.”

You did as he asked, leaning back against the pillows, your legs brushing together as you settled in. Your hand slid down your thighs instinctively, and your breath quickened as you felt the heat building between your legs. The distance between you seemed to evaporate, the connection between you two sharper, more tangible.

“God, I miss you,” Michael muttered, his eyes never leaving your body, his voice rough with longing. “Where would you want me to touch you right now, doll? Show Daddy where it aches.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the sound of his voice alone making your pulse race. You spread your legs slowly, your body trembling with a mix of nerves and need. “Right here,” you murmured in a sultry tone, your fingers trailing down between your thighs. The heat of your core radiated as your fingers slid through the slickness between your folds. “It aches right here.”

Michael’s eyes darkened, his gaze flickering away from the screen for just a moment before he walked out of view. You heard the soft click of the bathroom door closing and locking, the faint sound sending a thrill through you. When he returned, his eyes were sharper, more focused, and there was a tension in his body that made your breath quicken.

“Spread them for me, baby,” Michael murmured, his voice dropping an octave, rough and commanding. “Let me see that pretty clit.”

Your body obeyed before you could think, your legs parting wider as your fingers brushed over your sensitive spot, your body responding to his voice, his gaze, the heat of his desire wrapping around you like a vice. You could feel the intensity of the moment, the way your body yearned for his touch, even though it was miles away.

Your breath became shallow, your chest rising and falling quickly as you held his gaze through the screen. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and full of need, and the sound of his breathing, ragged and low, only fueled your own arousal. You could feel the slickness of your arousal as your fingers moved, and the heat in your body built with each passing second.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Just like that. Keep going, baby. Let me hear you.”

Your body trembled, every nerve alive and burning with a need only he could fulfill. The sound of Michael’s voice, the slow, deliberate way he spoke to you, made the space between you disappear, leaving only the raw intensity of the moment. His eyes, dark and full of desire, stayed fixed on you, watching the way your fingers moved inside yourself, the way your lips parted in soft moans that barely scratched the surface of the pleasure surging through your body.

“God, baby, you sound so pretty,” he murmured, his chest rising and falling as his breath grew heavier. His gaze flickered down to where your fingers disappeared inside you, your wetness glistening in the dim light, your body aching with a deep need for him. “Slide them deeper for me, baby. I want to watch you.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, you pushed your fingers deeper, your walls tightening around them as a breathless moan escaped your lips. The feeling of your slick heat enveloping your fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, but it wasn’t enough—it could never be enough without him.

Michael groaned low in his throat, his hand already moving down, slipping beneath his waistband as he palmed his thick, aching length. “You’re making me so damn hard, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with need. His fingers wrapped tightly around his length, gripping it through the rough fabric of his slacks. His arousal was so evident, straining against the material, his body screaming for you as much as yours was for him.

“Michael…” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, but he heard it. His eyes locked on yours, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing exactly how much you wanted him. “I need you…”

He licked his lips, standing up straighter, his movements slow and deliberate as he unbuckled his belt, the clinking sound sending shivers down your spine. The metal clinked again as he let it fall to the floor, your eyes never leaving the way his hands moved with such confidence, with such need. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he murmured, his voice a deep growl that made your whole body tighten with desire.

He slid his slacks down, stepping out of them with a grace that only he possessed. Now in just his white briefs, you could see the outline of him, thick and hard, the fabric struggling to contain him. His bulge pressed tightly against the soft cotton, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, your fingers faltering for a second as you watched him.

“You want it, don’t you?” Michael asked, his voice teasing as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, slowly peeling them down. The way his body moved was mesmerizing, every muscle in his slender, toned frame seeming to ripple as he freed himself from the last piece of clothing.

You moaned softly at the sight of him, his length thick and perfect, adorned with the splotches of his vitiligo that made him so uniquely beautiful. His length was an exquisite mix of colors—deep brown, soft pink, and pale white—each mark telling a story, each part of him more beautiful than the last. The thick foreskin rolled back as he stroked himself, exposing the flushed pink tip, glistening with precum. Your core throbbed, your body craving the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, making you his.

“I want you so bad,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “I miss you…”

Michael groaned at your words, his hand gripping his length tighter, his thumb smearing the bead of precum that had formed at the tip. “I miss you more, beautiful. So much…” His voice was low, gravelly, filled with the same longing that echoed in your chest. He spat into his palm, rubbing it over his length, each slow stroke making you ache even more. “You need me, don’t you?”

You whimpered, your hips bucking slightly as you pumped your fingers faster, but it still wasn’t enough. “I need you inside me, baby. Please…” The desperation in your voice was palpable, your body on the edge, ready to tip over into oblivion, but it was him you needed to send you there.

His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something deeper, something raw and primal. “I bet you do,” he murmured, his voice sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. “Your fingers don’t feel the same, do they? Not like me. You like when I stretch you, don’t you? When I fill you so deep, you can’t think of anything else.”

You moaned in response, your fingers moving faster now, matching the rhythm of his strokes. “Yes, baby,” you gasped. “I love it when you stretch me… when you fill me so tight.”

Michael’s voice was thick with need, every word dripping with desire as his hand slowed, gripping his thick length with the kind of patience that made your entire body throb. “God, I wish I was there,” he growled, his voice laced with frustration, the distance between you unbearable. “I need to feel how tight you are… how wet you are for me.” His breath hitched, and you could see the way his length twitched in his hand, the precum glistening at the tip as he twisted his wrist, his strokes slower but more deliberate now.

You watched, mesmerized by the sight of him, the way his large hand moved over his length. His muscles rippled with each slow, controlled motion, the sheer size of him making you ache in a way that made your core pulse even more. His words brought you back to reality, the intensity of his gaze locking you in.

“Match with me, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low groan that reverberated through your body. “I don’t want you to cum yet.”

Your body trembled as you nodded, slowing the movement of your fingers inside yourself, matching the rhythm of his strokes. Your fingers curled just right, brushing that spot deep inside that made your toes curl, but you fought to keep control, not wanting to disobey his command. The slickness of your arousal coated your fingers, and you couldn’t help but moan softly, the sound filling the quiet space around you.

Michael’s eyes darkened, his gaze intense as he watched you, his lips parting in a soft, shaky breath. “You like watching me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice laced with a teasing edge, but there was no doubt that he knew the effect he had on you.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, and your mind wandered, flashing back to the countless nights you had found him like this—waiting for you, sprawled out on the bed after the kids were finally asleep, his body bare, his hand wrapped around his length just like it was now. He’d always be watching you, his eyes dark with lust, waiting for the moment when you’d walk over and take control, finishing what he started with your own hand. You could almost feel the weight of him in your grip, the warmth of his seed spilling onto your fingers as he let go, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Say it, baby,” Michael groaned, his voice pulling you back to the present. “I know you do. I know you wish you could touch me right now, but I promise you, when I get home, you’re all mine.”

The way he said it made your body tighten, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you slowed your fingers, your breath ragged. “Yes, Michael,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as the desire swelled inside you.

But Michael shook his head, a slow, teasing grin spreading across his face. “Wrong name, doll,” he said with a soft chuckle, his body twitching as his thumb grazed over the slick tip of his length. His voice dropped to a low, guttural growl as he added, “You know better than that.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your body trembling as you corrected yourself, “Yes, daddy…” you moaned, your voice a needy whimper that made his eyes flash with approval.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise as his hand moved faster now, pumping his length with slow, deliberate strokes that had you biting your lip in anticipation. “Spread those pretty legs for me. Let me see all of you.”

You obeyed instantly, spreading your legs wider, your skin flushed with arousal as you opened yourself completely for him, giving him the full view he craved. The way he looked at you, the hunger in his eyes as he took in every inch of your exposed body, made you feel powerful, like you were his whole world in that moment.

“Fuck…” Michael groaned deeply, his hand tightening around his length as his eyes roamed over your body. He watched the way your slickness glistened between your thighs, his thumb brushing over the head of his length, spreading the precum that dripped from his swollen tip. “I need you,” he growled, his voice rough with desperation. “I need to be inside you, right now.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers slipping deeper inside yourself as you watched him, your body trembling with the need to feel him, to be filled by him. “I need you too, baby,” you whispered, your voice a soft plea as your fingers moved faster, matching the rhythm of his strokes. “I want to feel you so bad…”

Michael’s eyes darkened, his body tensing as he imagined the feel of you wrapped around him, your tight, wet heat pulling him deeper, the way your body always responded so perfectly to his. “Soon, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a growl. “When I get home… I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk the next day.”

The promise in his words made your body tremble, your breath coming faster as you felt the edge approaching, but you held back, waiting for him, needing to cum with him, needing to hear his voice as you came apart. “Please, baby,” you moaned, your fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot. “I’m so close…”

The tension between your bodies was electric, every word that spilled from Michael’s lips a molten thread that wrapped tighter around your senses, pulling you closer to the edge. His voice was a husky growl, rich and deep, each syllable dripping with lust. “Just a little longer, baby,” he rasped, his breath ragged, as if he could barely contain the heat rising inside him. “I want to hear more… God, you sound so wet for me. You’re driving me crazy.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver straight through you, making your breath catch in your throat. You moaned softly, desperate and aching, as your fingers moved faster inside you, the slickness of your arousal coating them. Your hips lifted slightly off the bed, seeking more, needing more, as your body trembled with each slow, deliberate thrust of your fingers. Your other hand roamed up your chest, fingertips grazing your heated skin, until they found your breast, your fingers pinching the sensitive nipple, the sharp sensation shooting a fresh wave of pleasure straight to your core.

Michael’s gaze was locked onto you, burning, his dark eyes hooded with desire as they trailed over every inch of your body. It felt like his touch even though he was miles away—his hunger radiating through the screen, making your skin tingle with the intensity of it. The connection between you felt tangible, heavy, like you could reach through the distance and pull him to you. You watched the way his muscles flexed as he stroked himself, his large hand gripping his thick length, the sound of his slick, rhythmic strokes filling the space, deepening the desire in your belly.

His head fell back against the wall of the hotel bathroom, his body flushed with heat, his legs spread wide, hips rocking forward as he fucked his hand, his need palpable. His other hand gripped the counter for balance, his chest rising and falling heavily, droplets of sweat glistening on his skin. The raw masculinity of him like this—completely lost in the fantasy of you—made your insides quiver with longing. You wanted him there so badly, needed to feel him between your thighs, inside you, his body pressed against yours, hot and slick and hard.

“Fuck, baby,” Michael groaned, his voice deeper now, a low rumble that sent vibrations through your body. “You look so good… I wish I could touch you, feel you right now. I need to be inside you, baby. I need to feel how tight you are for me.”

Your body reacted instantly to his words, your pulse racing as a wave of pleasure washed over you. “Michael…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need, your fingers pumping faster, hitting that spot deep inside that made your thighs quiver. You were so close, the heat between your legs nearly unbearable, your core tightening as you chased the release that hovered just out of reach. “I need you so much… I need you to fuck me.”

His eyes darkened at your words, his breath hitching as his hand moved faster along his shaft , his thick length glistening with precum. “You’re going to feel so good when I get home,” he groaned, his voice heavy, thick with promise.

The image of him sinking deep inside you, filling you completely, sent you spiraling closer to the edge. You moaned his name again, breathless, your body trembling with need, desperate for him, desperate to come undone for him. “Please… I need to cum, Michael,” you begged, your voice soft, filled with the weight of your desire. “I need you to make me cum.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes locked on you, the intensity of his gaze making you feel like he was right there with you, watching every little movement, every little sound you made. “Not yet, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Hold on for me. I want to see you beg for it.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your body trembling as you held back, fighting the overwhelming urge to let go. “Please, baby… please,” you whispered, your voice shaky, desperate. “I need it… I need you so bad.”

Michael’s breath was a low, ragged hum, each inhale more strained than the last as he worked his hand over his thick, pulsing length, the pressure of his grip intensifying. His voice, rough and edged with desire, was laced with command as he whispered, “That’s it, baby… Cum for me. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

His words sent a jolt through your body, your moans growing louder, almost desperate, as your fingers moved faster, slipping and sliding through the slickness of your arousal, the wet sounds filling the room. Your fingers curled deeper, hitting just the right spot that made your thighs quiver and your breath catch in your throat. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, chasing the edge, your body on fire, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The sounds of his heavy breaths and deep groans reverberated through the speakers, blending with your own cries of pleasure, creating an intimate, carnal symphony between you.

Your eyes stayed fixed on Michael, the image of him—head thrown back against the wall, chest heaving, muscles taut with need—etched in your mind. His eyes were locked on the camera, watching you fall apart, feeding off every little moan that escaped your lips. His strokes were fast, hard, the veins on his thick shaft bulging under his tight grip. His toes curled against the cold tile floor as he pushed himself closer to his release.

“I’m so close, baby,” he growled, his voice strained as he watched your fingers pump inside you. His length twitched in his hand, his grip tightening, the muscles in his forearms flexing with every movement. He was on the brink, teetering dangerously close to the edge, his body begging for release.

With one last stroke of your fingers, your body shattered. A breathy moan ripped from your throat as you came, Michael’s name spilling from your lips like a prayer, your hips lifting off the bed as waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your core tightened around your fingers, your body trembling uncontrollably, the heat of your release coursing through every inch of you.

“Fuck…” Michael groaned deeply, his body jerking as his release hit him hard, his hand moving faster, the slick sounds of his strokes filling the room. He growled, low and primal, as thick ropes of his hot seed shot out, splattering onto the floor, dripping from his tip in long, sticky strands. His body trembled with the force of it, his breathing heavy and uneven, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts.

You watched him through the haze of your own pleasure, your body still trembling, your fingers coated in your slick arousal as you came down from the high. Your moans lingered in the air, soft and breathless, as you laid back against the pillows, your legs weak and aching, your skin flushed and sensitive.

Michael leaned back against the wall, his hand still wrapped around his semi-hard length, now covered in his own release. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, sweat dripping down the side of his neck, tracing the curve of his collarbone. His gaze was half-lidded, his lips parted slightly as he stared at the ceiling, the remnants of pleasure still washing over him.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice still tinged with the rough edge of his desire, but now softer, more tender. It was a confession, raw and vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with the same longing, your heart aching to have him there beside you. “I miss you more,” you whispered, your voice soft, almost pleading. “Come home soon, baby.”

He nodded, his eyes dropping back to the screen, the intensity in them replaced by something warmer, more affectionate. “I will,” he promised, his voice low but filled with certainty. “Go clean up, I’ll be right here.”

You slipped your fingers out of yourself, your body still sensitive, and slowly climbed off the bed, your legs trembling as you made your way to the bathroom. The light flickered on as you entered, the cool tile beneath your feet a sharp contrast to the warmth still pulsing through your body. You turned the faucet on and lathered your hands with soap, scrubbing away the slick remnants of your release, the water running warm over your skin.

Back in the hotel bathroom, Michael moved with slow, deliberate motions, his body still humming with the aftershocks of his release. He wiped away the thick seed that had spilled onto the floor, his hand pausing for a moment as his mind drifted back to you. Even after his orgasm, the need for you gnawed at him, a dull ache that refused to leave. His length, still semi-hard, swayed slightly as he moved, a testament to just how deeply you affected him, even from miles away. His hand could never quite compare to the way your body felt, the way your warmth clung to him, trembling under his touch, tightening around him in the way only you could.

You turned off the water, drying your hands slowly before flipping the bathroom light off. The cool hardwood floor felt sharp against your bare feet as you padded quietly back to the bed, your body still tingling from the intimacy shared moments before. You slipped on your nightgown, the fabric cool against your flushed skin, before easing back onto the bed. The room was quiet now, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets as you settled in.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you grabbed the laptop, watching Michael as he finished cleaning himself up. He looked so at ease, the tension from earlier completely gone, his chest rising and falling steadily. It was just him—just Michael—and the sight of him like that, bare and relaxed, made your heart swell with warmth.

He caught you watching him, his lips curving into a soft, genuine smile that made your chest tighten. “Hi, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now, the rough edge of desire replaced by something more tender. He picked up the laptop and moved back to the bedroom, setting it down on the bed before easing onto it, his body still bare. His length, though beginning to soften, still hung heavy between his legs, the evidence of his earlier need for you lingering.

Michael leaned back against the pillows, running his fingers through his tousled hair, a deep breath escaping his lips as he settled in. “Still need some help?” you teased, your tone playful but your eyes lingering on him, drinking in the sight of his still-recovering body.

He glanced down at himself with a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “It should go down soon, I think,” he said, his tone light but laced with the remnants of desire. Then, with a smirk, he added, “I wouldn’t have this problem if you had come with me.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Oh, I beg to differ, stallion. You’d still be like this, and we both know it.”

He let out a deep, rumbling laugh, the sound vibrating through the screen. “Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Then, his expression softened, his tone becoming more casual. “When are you going to sleep, baby?”

You shrugged, pulling the covers up around you as you settled in more comfortably. “Whenever sleep decides to creep up on me. What about you? Got anything later?”

Michael ran a slow hand over his bare chest, his fingers brushing across the ridges of muscle, his skin still warm from earlier. “Just a couple of meetings, nothing serious,” he said with a lazy grin, his eyes locking onto yours. The teasing glint in his gaze sent a familiar flutter through your stomach. “I’ll be free tonight.”

Your eyes twinkled with playful mischief as you leaned closer to the screen. “How free?” you asked, your voice low and suggestive, a hint of heat in your tone. “Because I was thinking… maybe we could do this again later.”

Michael chuckled softly, his smile deepening as he shook his head, wagging a finger at you. “Aht, aht. You know better than that. That’s my time with the girls,” he teased, though his voice was thick with affection. “You’ll have to be patient, baby. But don’t worry, it’ll be worth it when I get home.”

Your gaze flickered down to where his hand rested on his still slightly erect length, his attempts to cover himself proving futile. You could see the outline of him beneath the blanket, and it made you bite your lip, the thought of how he’d feel against you stirring that familiar ache deep inside. “Is that right?” you teased back, rolling your eyes playfully as you snuggled deeper into the covers, pulling them tighter around you. “Guess I’ll just have to wait then.”

Michael’s smile softened as he adjusted under the blanket, the movement revealing a glimpse of his lean stomach before he settled in more comfortably. His voice lowered, his tone taking on a more intimate quality. “I do miss you, though,” he admitted, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. It wasn’t just about the physical—there was a depth in his confession that spoke of the quiet moments, the small touches, the way your presence filled the empty spaces in his life.

You felt your heart clench at the sincerity in his voice, the longing he never quite managed to hide. “I miss you more,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “But this… this isn’t as hard as when you were on tour for three years. That was unbearable.” You tried to smile, but the ache of those long months without him still haunted you sometimes.

Michael’s face twisted into a wry smile, half amusement, half regret. He rolled his eyes gently, trying to lighten the mood but knowing how deeply it affected you. “I know… but at least now, I’ve got more time for you and the girls. I always will. That’s never going to change.” His eyes softened as he stared at you through the screen, his expression filled with a kind of love that made the miles between you feel like nothing. “I promise, baby. Always.”

You both fell into a quiet, lingering moment, just staring at each other, soaking in the connection that remained even through the distance. The intimacy of it, the love, filled the space between you, making the world feel small and just for the two of you. You reached for his pillow beside you, hugging it close, the familiar scent of black orchid wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. It was his scent—strong, bold, and uniquely Michael.

“Tired?” he asked softly, watching you with a knowing look, one arm propped behind his head while the other lazily traced patterns over his chest.

You nodded, blinking slowly as exhaustion began to creep up on you. “A little… I shouldn’t have stayed up so late. The girls wanted to go to the park for a picnic, and you know how hard it is to say no to them,” you said with a soft smile, your heart warming at the thought of the little moments you cherished with your children.

Michael bit his lip, his dark eyes softening as he watched you through the screen. He could see the exhaustion settling into your features, but also the contentment that came with the simplicity of normal life—the life you created together, away from the madness of the outside world. He let out a slow breath, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that always seemed to wrap around you like a blanket. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves. You all deserve that… you deserve so much more,” he murmured, his words laced with a tenderness that only deepened the ache of his absence.

You smiled, though it was weighed down by tiredness, your eyes heavy but still holding that familiar warmth he knew so well. “They miss you,” you said softly, your voice catching just a little as you spoke. “I tell them all the time that you can’t do everything because you’re working… but they don’t really understand yet. And they asked…” You trailed off, your eyes flicking away from the screen for a moment.

Michael’s brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued by the hesitance in your voice. He leaned a little closer to the screen, his hand absentmindedly running through his tousled hair. “Asked about what, baby?” he pressed, his voice still gentle but edged with concern.

You took a deep breath, the weight of what you were about to say lingering between you like a tangible thing. When you finally spoke, it was in a soft, careful whisper, as though the word itself might stir something painful. “Neverland,” you said, letting it hang in the air between you, the significance of the place touching every corner of your relationship. You knew what it meant to him—how deeply it was tied to his dreams, and how much it hurt to let it go. “They’re curious, and I try to explain, but… you know how stubborn they can be. Stubborn like their daddy,” you added with a gentle smile, trying to lighten the mood, though the gravity of the conversation was impossible to ignore.

Michael’s face tightened for a moment, his expression darkening with the memories that the name evoked. He sighed deeply, the sound heavy and resigned as his fingers dragged through his hair. His shoulders sagged just a bit, the weight of it all seeming to press down on him as he thought about it. “We’ll find our home, baby. I promise,” he said, his voice steady but thick with determination. “Just tell them daddy’s working on it, alright? It won’t be long. We’ll have something just as special.” The conviction in his words was strong, but there was a flicker of old pain in his eyes, the kind you knew would always be there no matter how much time passed.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him, the vulnerability he rarely showed anyone but you. “Please come home soon,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking under the weight of how much you needed him. “I miss you so much, Michael. I hate it when you’re away… it feels like part of me is missing.”

His face softened at your words, and for a moment, the mask he wore for the world slipped, revealing the deep ache of longing mirrored in his eyes. “I’ll be home soon, baby. I promise.” His voice was thick with emotion, low and soothing, like he was trying to wrap you up in comfort even from a distance. “Don’t get too worked up, okay? I don’t want you stressing out. When I get back, I’ll take care of you, I swear.”

You nodded, unable to find the words as your throat tightened, the overwhelming need for him making it hard to speak. “Okay,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He sighed again, the sound full of love and something deeper—an unspoken understanding that the distance between you was unbearable, but only temporary. “I love you, beautiful. Please get some rest for me, alright?” His tone was soft, coaxing, but there was a firmness to it too, the kind that made you want to do anything he asked just to ease the concern in his voice. “It’s only a few more days… and then I’ll be right there next to you.”

You nodded again, your voice catching in your throat as you whispered, “I will.”

Michael’s expression shifted into something warmer, more playful as he smiled at you, his lips curling into that familiar grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “I’ll call you before I head to sleep tonight. I love you.”

You smiled sleepily, your eyelids growing heavier by the second as you fought the pull of exhaustion. “I love you more, doodoo,” you murmured, the nickname slipping from your lips without thought, a habit from years of teasing.

He chuckled deeply, the sound rich and full, like velvet wrapping around you in the quiet of the night. “Goodnight, pretty,” he whispered, his voice a soothing caress just before the screen went dark, the call ending.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the blank screen, the silence of the room settling around you like a heavy cloak. Then, with a sigh, you closed the laptop and pulled his pillow closer to your chest, burying your face in the soft fabric. His scent—bold and rich with notes of black orchid—filled your senses, wrapping you in the comfort of his presence even though he wasn’t there. You snuggled deeper into the blankets, letting the warmth of his pillow soothe you as sleep finally began to claim you.

Soon, he’d be home. Soon, he’d be right there in your arms, where he belonged.

#michael jackson #moonwalker #wattpad #mjf fanfiction #writing #imagine #mjj #mjsdiiana #mature era #endless seduction #mjswhisperer #2007 Michael

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