#dangerous era gif

[michaelsfavgirl]

fast learner

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: (related to/continuation of innocence) After taking your virginity and focusing solely on your pleasure, Michael hasn't asked for anything in return, leaving you doubting your ability to please him due to your inexperience. Determined to return the favour you ask him to teach you how to give him a blowjob.

Tags: smut, oral (m receiving), dom!michael, sub!reader, first time giving, lack of experience, implied age gap, huge pp, coming untouched, multiple orgasms, fingering, cheesy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: lipgloss dupe (there’s a part where I wanted to write that so bad but thought it’d ruin the moment so I’m telling you here)

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

It's been a few weeks since Michael introduced you to the pleasures of the flesh. Over this period, your hunger for each other has become insatiable. Who knew sex could be this good? Not a day has gone by without his hands on you, making you cum over and over again until tears roll down your cheeks, and he knows you’ve reached your limit.

He’s been oh so gentlemanly and giving. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say he’s been eating you out on an almost daily basis. Especially when your poor cunt is sensitive from all the loving and stretching, he just gently laps at your pussy, his warm tongue making you leak more of your sweet juices into his mouth, all without asking for anything in return.

And that’s exactly what’s been gnawing at you. Compared to how experienced he is in the bedroom, you feel slightly embarrassed. He’s always the one doing all the work, always making sure you cum first, ensuring you don’t lift a finger. As much as you love it, it’s starting to make you feel inadequate.

You want to make him feel good as well, but oddly enough, he hasn’t hinted at you giving him oral in any way. How strange. Aren’t men supposed to be obsessed with it or something? It makes you wonder if he thinks you’re incapable of satisfying him since you’ve never done it before. This sends you into a spiral of overthinking.

While this turmoil brews inside your head, Michael, who’s been lying next to you on your shared bed, notices your furrowed brows. Instantly, he pulls you closer to him, your head on his chest and his hands gently caressing your back. Softly, he presses a kiss to the top of your head and whispers, “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Feeling heat rise in your face, you contemplate how to tell him. As soothing as his hands are, they do little to calm your nervousness. You open and close your mouth multiple times before sighing and saying it bluntly, “You’re always doing all the work in bed and... and it makes me feel like I’m not doing enough to please you too.” You close your eyes and focus on the low sound of the TV instead of the silence coming from him.

Michael’s hand pauses for a moment before he shifts, gently tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. His gaze is soft, filled with understanding. “Oh, baby,” he says, his voice tender. “I love making you feel good. That’s how it’s supposed to be, I wasn’t playing around when I promised to take care of you always.” he smiles and adjusts his body, ready to continue watching the television but you’re not gonna let this go so easily.

“But…” you start, feeling a lump form in your throat, “I want to make you feel good too. I feel like I’m not contributing enough.”

Michael smiles softly. “Sweetheart, you do, seeing your pleasure, feeling your body respond to me—that’s everything. You don’t need to worry about doing anything more.”

“Yeah, but other couples—” you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t care what other couples do,” he says, his tone firm but still gentle. “You’re too precious to me. What kind of man would I be if I made you get on your knees for me, hm?”

“But I want to learn how to do it. Teach me,” you say, while looking at him earnestly.

“Another time,” he replies, turning his head back towards the TV.

“What? No, Michael!” You knit your brows together, determined to gain his attention back. You whine and beg, slightly shaking him, trying to get a reaction.

“Please, please, please!” You dramatically clutch his shirt. A minuscule smile crosses his face before he turns up the volume, drowning out your adorable pouts and begs.

“Uh, how dare you? You’re silencing women!” you say, making him laugh genuinely, his lively chuckles ringing through the room. You take advantage, quickly grabbing the remote and turning the television off.

“Please, Michael,” you plead, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He rolls his eyes playfully, looking at you for a few seconds, wanting to see if you’ll falter. But no, you seem very sure about this.

He caves. “Alright, fine, but just know that this won’t be a frequent activity for you.”

Smiling triumphantly, you start to get off the bed. He stops you with a gentle hand. “Stay on the bed. I don’t want your knees to bruise.” You blush and lay on your stomach comfortably, watching as he stands at the edge of the bed right in front of you.

Michael's eyes darken with a mix of desire and tenderness as he looks down at you. “You’re sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod eagerly, your eyes sparkling with determination. “Mhm.”

He shakes his head as he sees you impatiently staring at his crotch. “Alright, baby. I’ll guide you through it.”

Michael stands at the edge of the bed, his presence commanding from this angle. Your eyes are fixed on him, anticipation and hunger mixing in your gaze. He begins to undress, his movements slow and deliberate. When his trousers finally drop to the floor, your breath catches at the sight of his girthy, long cock. He’s even more impressive up close, his thick shaft swaying with his every move, begging for attention.

The sheer size of him makes you salivate, but also brings you back to earth, making you nervous about how you're going to manage to fit him into your mouth. Michael notices the flicker of anxiety in your eyes and gives you a reassuring smile, though his teasing nature shines through as he begins to stroke himself lazily.

His hand moves up and down his shaft with a deliberate slowness, knowing full well how it's driving you crazy. You can already feel the wetness pooling in your panties as you watch him, your body reacting to the sight of him pleasuring himself. He pulls back the foreskin that was covering half of his swollen tip, revealing more of the glistening precum that has gathered there.

Michael steps closer, his cock just inches from your face. He swipes a finger through the precum and looks at you with a playful glint in his eye. "Open your mouth," he instructs, his voice low and commanding.

You obey, your tongue sticking out as you wait, your body trembling with anticipation. He places his finger on your tongue. “Suck,” he says seductively. You do so shyly at first, your tongue swirling around his finger as the taste of him makes you whimper, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

He watches you intently, smirking as he sees how lost in it you are. After a moment, he reluctantly slides his finger out of your wet mouth, which is immediately followed by a whine from you, already missing his taste.

"I've got something better for you to suck on," he teases, his words making your cheeks heat up. You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"First, however, I want you to wrap your hand around it," he says gently. Seeing the slight apprehension in your eyes he gives you a soft smile of approval. You tentatively reach out, your hand wrapping around his thick shaft. You marvel at how warm and heavy it is in your hand, the veins pulsing against your soft palm.

“It’s heavy.” You blurt out of of nervousness and as soon as you do you slap yourself mentally.

He chuckles heartily, “It’s all for you.”

Michael's large hand wraps around yours, guiding you as you stroke his meaty cock. "Just like this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. You feel him swell in your hand, his cock growing fully hard. His guidance helps you feel less nervous, his hand moving yours in a steady rhythm. But then he pulls away, leaving you to stroke him on your own.

You glance up at him, a little panicked, your movements becoming clumsy without his steadying hand. He coos softly, reassuring you, "It's alright sweet girl, you're doing well, go on."

His words bolster your confidence, and you continue to fist his lengthy cock. With each stroke, more precum leaks from his bulbous glistening tip. You so badly want to lick it, but you know you need to be patient. Thus you suppress those needs by rubbing your thighs together, the slight friction making this much more bearable.

"A little faster," he instructs, his voice a gentle command. You nod obediently and pick up your pace. The weight of his heavy cock makes your arm burn, but you push through, mesmerized by the way his foreskin slides over his swollen tip with every motion.

Feeling emboldened by his groans, you give his cock a gentle squeeze. He curses under his breath and smirks, praising you, "Look at you, baby. Didn't even have to tell you to do that."

“So good at this,” he murmurs and throws his head back, “knew you would be.”

You smile shyly, continuing your ministrations. Your hand starts to spasm from the effort, him being the attentive lover that he is, he slows you down, taking your hand off his shaft. Realising what's coming next, you lick your lips in anticipation, your thighs pressing even closer together.

He starts you off slowly, his voice gentle. "Give it a little kiss," he says, his eyes dark with desire. You lean in and softly press your lips against his glossy tip, pulling away you’re left with the remnants of his arousal shining on your lips.

"A few more."

You kiss around his tip, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin. The warmth emanating from him makes your pussy drool. Unable to resist, you give it a hesitant lick. He groans, a deep sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Someone's getting bold," he teases.

You pull away and turn your head to the side bashfully, reaching out, he cups your face gently. "Oh baby, it's alright. Here, open your little mouth."

You part your lips, your heart racing. He holds his cock, guiding his swollen tip to your mouth. Your tongue flicks out, licking the tip of his cock. You sigh at the delicious taste of him, savoring every drop of precum that oozes out. The salty-sweetness leaves you craving more, and you press your tongue against the slit, coaxing more of that deliciousness to the surface. He winces slightly from the sensitivity but lets you continue, his hand resting gently on the back of your head.

Your eyes flutter shut as you lick his tip, lost in the pleasure of tasting him whilst stimulating your clit at the same time. Suddenly, you feel him softly patting his bulbous head against your tongue, drawing you out of your reverie. You open your eyes, clouded by lust, and part your lips wider, tentatively taking him into your mouth. Your lips stretch around him, feeling the warmth and the firmness.

With just the tip in your mouth, you already feel your throat contracting, and breathing becoming much more laborious. He tenderly soothes you, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Shh, youre okay. Try to breathe through your nose…relax."

You nod slightly, focusing on his smooth voice. As you follow his words you feel the pressure disappear and breathing become easier. Curiously, you slowly begin to suck on his tip, the wet noises making you feel a little embarrassed. Michael watches you intently, ensuring you're not straining yourself too hard. He lets you explore at your own pace, his desire for your pleasure evident in his eyes.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and innocent. You whimper around his cock at the sight of his head thrown back, silent pants escaping his lips. You bob your head back and forth, his tip already stretching your mouth full. He shudders, the evident inexperience driving him wild. Without thinking, you try to take more of him in, struggling as his girth overwhelms you.

Michael immediately snaps back to attention, pulling you off him firmly. "Just the tip, sweetheart," he scolds, his tone stern. "Don't ever try to take more, don't want you to choke."

You pout, protesting, "But I want to-."

He cuts you off, shaking his head. "No buts. You can barely take the tip. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Rolling your eyes, you take just the tip back into your mouth and continue to suckle. The taste and feel of him make you crave more, but you obey his instruction. Michael watches you closely, trying his hardest not to buck his hips and fuck your sweet mouth. He reminds himself that it's too early for that, and he wants to take care of you.

“Take your time, I wanna savour this.” He looks down at you with lustful eyes. He never thought seeing you pleasuring him would turn him on so much.

Just as you start to feel more confident, your teeth accidentally graze his sensitive skin. Your eyes widen in shock, and you try to pull away to apologize, but he holds the back of your head steady, keeping you in place.

"Do it again," he commands softly, his voice a mix of pain and pleasure.

Uncertainly, you press your teeth against his skin and give him the softest bite you can. As soon as you do, he moans, his cock twitching in your mouth. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting him to be into something like this. If his fat cock wasn't stuffing your mouth, you'd definitely be giggling.

Encouraged by his reaction, you continue sucking, occasionally using your teeth to gently graze his skin. Each time you do, he moans louder, his hips twitching involuntarily. The knowledge that you're driving him crazy fills you with a heady sense of power. You lose yourself in the act, your own arousal building with each moan and groan that escapes his lips.

Michael's hand unconsciously tightens in your hair, guiding your movements as you suckle and nibble on his cock. "Such a fast learner," he praises, his voice thick with desire.

You hum around him appreciatively, the vibrations making him groan. Your lips stretch around his shaft as you suck eagerly, lost in the sensation and taste of him. Internally, you scowl at the reminder that he won't let you do this very often. He's so protective, always concerned about your comfort and safety. But you want to please him, to show him how much you crave this.

Unbeknownst to him, you keep rubbing your thighs together, adding more pressure to your throbbing clit. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, making you more desperate for release.

Michael's pants grow heavier, and he warns, "I'm close." You can see the wheels turning in his head, debating whether or not he should pull out. Before he can make a decision, you grab onto his thigh, your eyes pleading with him not to.

His gaze softens, and he nods, letting you have what you want. "Alright, baby. You can have it."

Determined to make him proud, you wrap your hand around his stiff cock, trying to stroke it in time with your sucking. He chuckles through his breathy moans, saying, "You're so eager to please."

He pulls your hand off, not wanting you to put in more effort than you're already putting in, and starts fisting his cock on his own. Although your jaw begins to ache, you fasten your pace, needily bobbing your head up and down. You watch his gorgeous face, his hair sticking to his forehead, as he tries to keep his eyes open to look at you. As he nears his orgasm, he can't help but gently buck his hips, the pulsing head hitting the back of your throat deliciously.

Your eyes flutter as you let him take control. Your body shakes as your weeping clit begs for release as well. "I'm coming," he manages to say, his voice strained with pleasure.

You feel the hot ropes of his creamy load filling your mouth. You moan around his cock at the taste, eagerly swallowing every drop. He keeps flooding your mouth, the sheer volume shocking you. The sensation drives you over the edge. As you rub your thighs harder together, hitting that sweet little spot you feel your orgasm wash over you in tides. Your hands clutch the sheets for support as you shake slightly, which makes his thick milky cum spill from the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

You do your best to swallow it all while riding out your own high. When he finally pulls out, you look spent—eyes half-lidded, breathing heavily, the bottom half of your face wet with his sticky cum. You look absolutely beautiful.

Michael gazes at you with a mixture of awe and tenderness. "You did so well for your first time," he praises, though his words go in one ear and out the other as you catch your breath. You turn over and lay on your back, staring at the ceiling. He cups your face, gently cleaning off his seed off your mouth. "Hey, sweet girl?" he asks, a hint of worry in his voice. "Was it too much?"

You shake your head but don't say a word, still lost in the lingering pleasure. He notices how tightly shut your thighs are and raises an eyebrow in curiosity. He parts them slowly, watching how they tremble.

He shakes his head, realization dawning on him. "Oh, you naughty girl," he murmurs, slipping his warm hand under your panties and feeling the slickness between your folds. "Didn't expect you to cum from just sucking my cock."

You hide your face bashfully while he slides his fingers through your wetness and feels your clit still pulsing with need under his fingertips. "Let me properly take care of that for you." He slips your panties off, exposing your slick, puffy pussy. His fingers gently part your folds, feeling how slippery and sensitive you are.

Michael's touch is gentle but confident as he explores your cunt. "I’m so proud of you," he whispers, his fingers circling your clit at a teasingly slow pace. You whimper, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Please," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "More."

Michael obliges, how can he not when his precious girl did such a good job pleasing him. He slips two of his long finger into your entrance and pumps them in and out of you. His thumb moves to circle your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moan loudly, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. The sensitivity from the last release helping push you over the edge once more.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple, his voice low and husky. "Cum for me again." You feel the tension building in your core. Your breathing becomes ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. With a final thrust of his fingers, you cum hard, your body shaking with the intensity.

Michael watches you with a satisfied smile, his fingers still moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he says softly, his thumb brushing against your clit with less fervour.

You ride out your orgasm, your body finally relaxing as the waves of ecstasy subside. Michael slowly withdraws his fingers from your quivering hole and brings them to his lips, licking them clean. He leans down, kissing you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips just as much as he can taste himself on yours.The mix of your essenes making you moan softly into the kiss.

When he pulls back, he looks into your eyes, his expression tender. You snuggle into his embrace as he lifts you and walks towards the bathroom for a much deserved bubble bath.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @moonuoi @iconsmjj @michaels-nonbinary-child @veavixen @elthoughtzos

[bad-era-curls]

𝐎𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬 🥵

That was me filming underneath him in the first one

[mjj-nostalgia]

"I would be with (Y/N) again but I don't know if that's in the cards anymore...,"

NOT MY GIFS

[kingofpopmj]

Me leaving a room when someone says they don’t like Michael

[someone-put-your-hand-out]

[mjracles]

michael jackson receiving the grammy legend award during the 35th annual grammy awards (1993)

[armasbw]

[dianarockwell87]

😍🥺

[justfangirl-things]

Michael Jackson talking to Glenda Stein about his friend Kathy’s preferences, June 21st 1992

MJ: (laughing) First of all, I’m having a wine cooler. Glenda: (gasps) MJ: Today is Kathy’s birthday. G: Oh. Yeah? MJ: Yeah. G: Ohh. MJ: And, girl. I don’t know how we got on the subject… God, I do not remember… (laughing) We were talking about… white guys. G: White guys? MJ: Yeah (laugh) G: Why? MJ: I was talking with Kathy, ‘cause she’s a nurse. Oh, because Randy the other day was calling Kathy prejudice and stuff like that and she’s like, “I’m not prejudice, I like white people. I have a preference, I would never sleep with a white man.” And we were talking about that. (laughing) G: Really? MJ: (laugh) She goes (laugh) G: Oh no… MJ: She like, “No, I would never sleep with a white man because their penises are just too pink” or too red or something. G: (gasps) MJ: And their veins show! (laughing) G: Oh my god! MJ: (laughing) G: Oh! MJ: She like, “No, I wouldn’t mind, you know, doin’ stuff with a white man because I’m not prejudice, I like white people,” and stuff, “But ooh, god, I could never I could never lay down with a white man!” G: She said that? MJ: “Because their penis is all pink and it’s all red, you know.” She got these old men, you know, that sometimes she gotta put catheters on them and stuff like that. G: Ugh! MJ: She’s like, “(i) oh when the white man’s old. His penis shrinks up and you gotta jerk it up” and (i) find it and stuff! (laugh) G: Oh my god. MJ: Like, “Black men aren’t like that.” You know? “Even when they’re old, their penis don’t shrink up that little. And they’re not all red and wrinkled.” G: Ewwww. MJ: (laugh) I’m like, Oh my God. G: (i). MJ: She said, “I like them thick”. And she’s like, “I just can’t be making love with a white man. There’s no red or pink stuff inside me!” (laughs) G: Oh, gross! That’s what she said? MJ: Yeah. G: Eww. MJ: She goes, “But I’m not prejudice, it’s just my preference.”

Michael really be giving all the TEAAAA LMAOOOOO

[therexasher]

UHMMMMMMMMMM- PLEASE IVE OFFICIALLY LOST IT.

[apuff]

no further comment

[mjj-nostalgia]

"I know it's hot out here - but it sure is beautiful! Don'tcha think, (Y/N)?"

NOT MY GIF

[smeagles]

Big Day Out Adelaide 2012

[fallinlovewithevil]

This needs more likes! The domestic bliss I crave.

𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚎 𝙹𝚘𝚢

1991

Neverland Ranch

Word Count: 10.6k

The air was thick with a comforting silence, the kind that wraps around you like a warm embrace, coaxing you into a sense of peace. The faint scent of baby powder lingered in the room, mingling with the sweet, delicate fragrance of your two-month-old baby nestled against your chest. You cradled her gently as she nursed, her tiny fingers occasionally brushing your skin, her soft breaths steady and rhythmic. Her deep brown eyes, the same shade as her father's, fought to stay open, curious and eager to explore more of the world, though the late hour weighed heavy on her eyelids. The red glow of the alarm clock blinked quietly from the dresser beside you, marking the time—midnight.

It had been a long, solitary day. The spacious house felt even larger when it was just you and your baby girl, the quiet occasionally broken by her soft coos and tiny cries. Michael had been away in the studio again, working late into the night, though he always made time for you and your daughter, even if it was in the small hours. His love was never in question, his presence felt even in his absence.

You sat in the old rocking chair, the gentle creak as you swayed back and forth blending with the stillness of the room. The window framed the night sky, where a crescent moon hung low, casting a silvery glow across your face and your daughter's. Her dark lashes fluttered, catching the moonlight as she slowly succumbed to sleep. You exhaled softly, letting yourself relax fully, the weariness of the day fading. The remnants of your earlier bath clung to your skin—the rich scent of cocoa butter soothing you, a small indulgence you rarely afforded yourself these days. The black satin of your nightgown felt luxurious, smooth against your skin, the fabric cool yet comforting. Your hair was still damp, but the slight chill didn't bother you.

Motherhood had changed you—deepened you, softened you in ways you hadn't expected. It had changed Michael, too. You saw it in the way he looked at your daughter, a new tenderness that you recognized from the way he had always doted on his nieces and nephews. But this was different. This was his own flesh and blood, and the love he had for her was palpable, even when he was away.

Your daughter stirred slightly, her lips unlatching from you, and you glanced down to see her eyes closed now, her breathing steady. Her skin, smooth as velvet, was as precious to you as any treasure. Carefully, you rose from the rocking chair, each step deliberate and quiet as you moved across the nursery. The crib stood waiting, the soft bedding already warm from the night's embrace. You leaned down gently, placing her into it with the utmost care. Her mouth made the little clicking sound you had come to adore from day one, her tiny lips forming a faint smile as sleep carried her off.

"Goodnight, princess," you whispered, pressing a kiss to your fingers and then to her cheek, the gesture as much a promise as a farewell for the night.

As you stood in the doorway, you cast one more glance at her peaceful form, illuminated by the soft nightlight in the corner. The door closed with a faint click, left ajar just enough to hear her if she stirred, though the baby monitor gave you peace of mind.

Descending the stairs, you heard it—the soft, familiar notes of a piano drifting through the house. Michael. Your heart swelled. His music always had a way of filling the empty spaces, his melodies woven from instinct and emotion. He played not from sheet music, but from the heart, each chord a reflection of his feelings.

When you reached the bottom step, the wooden floorboards creaked slightly underfoot, the sound almost a companion to the music. The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the living room, two small flames casting shadows at the end of the piano where he sat. His fingers moved effortlessly across the keys, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration but relaxed, the music soothing the quiet of the night.

You stood in the doorway for a moment longer, watching him as the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls, casting gentle shadows across the room. The warmth from the fireplace seeped into the air, mingling with the tender chords of the piano and the love that flowed effortlessly between you both. In that moment, the house no longer felt cavernous or empty—it felt alive, like the very walls breathed with the memories you had begun building here. This was home, a sanctuary you had both created together, and even in the quietest moments, its warmth enveloped you.

Slowly, you approached him, your bare feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. Standing behind him, you gently ran your hands over his broad shoulders, feeling the tightness in his muscles. He had been working for hours, and the strain was clear in the way he sat hunched over the keys. But as soon as your fingers touched him, he relaxed. The tension melted away, replaced by the familiar comfort of your touch. His scent, fresh from his shower, lingered—a mix of soap and something distinctly him, an intoxicating blend that always made your heart flutter.

You squeezed his shoulders softly before moving to the side of the piano, meeting his gaze. His deep brown eyes, so full of warmth and love, met yours. His damp curls framed his face, falling in just the right way to make him look effortlessly handsome. You couldn't help but smile. "Coming to bed?" you asked, your voice soft, inviting.

Michael nodded, though his fingers still hovered over the keys, not quite pressing them. "Soon," he replied. "I've got this melody stuck in my head. I told Teddy about it at the studio earlier, but for some reason, I just couldn't get it out." His fingers moved lightly over the piano, as though coaxing the music from it without sound, like he was trying to feel the notes before they emerged.

You smiled, running your fingers along the polished surface of the grand piano, the cool wood smooth beneath your fingertips. "Need me to stay up with you?" you asked, knowing how much these moments mattered to him, how the music was often his way of unwinding, of finding peace after a long day.

He shrugged lightly but with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I could use some company," he admitted. "Plus, I missed my wife. It was hard enough being away from you and our baby girl all day."

He scooted over on the piano bench, patting the space beside him. You walked over and settled next to him, the warmth of his body immediately comforting as you rested your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both sat in the quiet. The flicker of the candles, the soft hum of the night, and the gentle weight of his presence made everything feel right.

"I missed you too," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was so happy to see you when you came home." Your fingers found his hand, still resting lightly on the keys, and you traced the back of it, feeling the familiar texture of his skin.

He took your hand in his, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles in that tender way he always did, a silent expression of affection. "The way your eyes lit up when I walked in," he said, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. "You looked so happy."

You tilted your head up to look at him, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Of course I was happy. I missed you, silly. What else?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know, baby," he said, his voice warm and teasing. "I'm just messing with you."

Before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering as if savoring the moment, the closeness, the feeling of you against him. You closed your eyes, breathing him in—his familiar scent, fresh yet comforting, and the warmth of his body radiating through you. It was like time stopped for a brief moment, and all that existed was the shared silence between you, the stillness filled with love and understanding. You felt exactly where you were meant to be, safe in his presence, surrounded by his quiet strength and tenderness.

With a gentle exhale, he placed his hand back on the piano keys, his fingers poised delicately over them as he took a deep breath. Then, without hesitation, he began to play again, letting the same chords flow out as naturally as a heartbeat. Though Michael wasn't classically trained, there was something about the way his fingers danced across the keys that made it seem effortless. He played from somewhere deep within, letting the music find its way through him, a reflection of his emotions.

You leaned into his shoulder, the warmth of him grounding you as you listened. The chords filled the room, soft yet rich, each note a thread that wove through your heart, warming you from the inside out. It was as if every sound he produced carried with it a piece of his love, the music wrapping around you both in an invisible embrace. The joy, the happiness, the simple peace of being together in this moment—it was all there in the way he played.

Quietly, he began to hum to himself, the low sound barely audible but enough to send a shiver through you. His voice, unfiltered and raw, was one of your favorite things. You loved the way he sounded when it was just the two of you, no pressure, no performance—just him, vulnerable and real. It was moments like these that made you fall even deeper in love with him, the intimacy of hearing him like this, unguarded.

But suddenly, he stopped playing. The music cut off, leaving a stillness that felt jarring in contrast to the warmth it had brought. You opened your eyes, lifting your head from his shoulder to look up at him, concern flickering across your face. His expression had changed—his eyes were distant, as if lost in thought, his brow furrowed slightly.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with worry.

Michael shook his head gently, as if pulling himself out of whatever thought had distracted him. "Nothing," he murmured, but there was a weight to his voice that said otherwise. He turned his head to look at you, his deep brown eyes searching yours. "What did you feel when I played that?" he asked, his voice low, almost as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

You thought for a moment, letting the warmth of the music replay in your mind. "I felt... warm. Happy. Joy," you said softly, the words slipping out naturally. It was the truth, after all. His music had always had that effect on you, making you feel enveloped in a love so deep it was almost tangible.

Michael stared at you, his gaze lingering before he looked away again, his fingers brushing over the keys absentmindedly. "Joy," he repeated quietly, as if tasting the word on his tongue, rolling it around in his mind. Then he looked back down at you, a slow smile spreading across his face, lighting up his features. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

"I love you too," you replied softly, your voice just as full of meaning.

He shook his head slightly, the smile still lingering. "No, seriously," he said, his tone deepening. "I know I say it all the time, but I really mean it. And when you said that—'joy'—it just... clicked. I think I'll call it Joy," he said, his smile widening. "You're really helpful at times, you know?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful affection.

You couldn't help but nudge him in the arm, a grin pulling at your lips. "Shut up," you muttered, pretending to be annoyed, though you knew he could see right through you.

"What?" he laughed softly, his voice smooth and warm. "I'm telling the truth, baby. When you're around me, you inspire me. You... you bring me joy. When I thought of this melody, I thought of you." His voice softened at the end, his words laced with affection so deep it made your chest ache in the best way.

You sat up slowly, turning to meet his eyes fully. "I love when I inspire you," you said, your voice barely a whisper, but the weight of your words hung in the air between you.

Michael's eyes darkened with emotion as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours, his breath warm on your skin. "You always inspire me," he whispered, his voice deep, full of love. "Everything I do, everything that comes to mind, is because of you—because of how much I love you."

The quiet stretched out between you, the only sound the faint crackling of the fireplace and the soft flicker of the candles burning low. The room felt alive with the energy of your love, a warmth that wasn't just physical but emotional, deep, and ever-present.

You leaned in, closing the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. The outside world blurred into nothing, leaving only the warmth of his body, the scent of him, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It felt like the universe had shrunk down to this one perfect moment—the soft glow of the candles, the faint crackling of the fireplace, and the palpable love that filled the space between you. When you finally pulled away, your foreheads pressed gently together, the closeness still electric. Your eyes locked, and it was as though you could see every unspoken word, every emotion flickering through his gaze like the warm candlelight around you.

"Ready for bed?" you asked, your voice soft, almost as if you didn't want to break the moment.

Michael shook his head slowly, a slight smile playing on his lips as his fingers brushed against the piano keys again, coaxing out a soft, dreamy melody. "No," he murmured, his voice low and relaxed. "I'm still wide awake."

You stood up from the seat beside him, your black satin nightgown falling effortlessly over your body as you adjusted it. The smooth fabric skimmed your skin, a gentle reminder of how comfortable and at ease you felt here with him. You were about to walk away, your bare feet making the faintest sound against the floor, when you felt his hand reach out, fingers curling gently around yours, stopping you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice tender, yet with a hint of playful curiosity, his grip on your hand firm but warm.

"I'm just getting a drink," you replied, your lips curling into a soft smile. "You want one?"

Michael shook his head, but instead of letting go, he pulled you back toward him with a gentle yet insistent tug, guiding you back to the piano. His eyes met yours, and there was something different there now, something deeper, more intense. "I just want you right here," he said, his voice husky, filled with desire as his hands found your hips.

He reached behind you, his fingers moving deftly to close the top of the piano, silencing the keys with a soft thud. His grip on your waist tightened, and in one smooth motion, he lifted you onto the glossy surface of the piano. The cool wood met the bare skin of your legs, sending a shiver through you, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his body as he stepped between your legs, his presence overpowering in the best possible way.

You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as his eyes locked onto yours, dark with longing. "What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your fingers already finding their way into his damp curls. You combed through them gently, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers, the wet strands clinging slightly to your skin. He didn't answer right away, but the look in his eyes said everything. He wanted you, here and now, with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Without a word, Michael leaned in, his hand slipping beneath your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His lips found yours again, but this time the kiss was different—deeper, more urgent. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent a wave of heat rushing through you, his breath warm against your skin. You kissed him back, first with light, teasing pecks that quickly turned into something more, something deeper. The kiss became slow, sensual, each movement deliberate, as if you had all the time in the world.

His hand remained under your chin, his thumb brushing softly along the edge of your jawline, the simple touch enough to make your skin tingle. His other hand moved to your waist, the heat of his palm seeping through the fabric of your nightgown as his fingers gripped you gently but firmly, pulling you closer, leaving no space between you. You could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest, matching the rapid fluttering of your own.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing harder against yours, and you let out a soft sigh as you melted into him, the sensation of his hands, his mouth, his body so close to yours overwhelming in the most beautiful way. His thumb continued to caress your skin as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even more, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, deliberate sensuality that left you breathless. It was as though nothing else mattered in the world but this moment, the connection between you, the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, ready to ignite.

You could feel the tension in his body as his hand slid from your waist, moving slowly up your back, his fingers tracing the length of your spine through the satin fabric. Each touch sent a spark through you, your body responding instinctively, leaning into him, wanting more. You broke the kiss for a brief moment, just long enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his as you both lingered in the silence, the air around you thick with unspoken words and shared desire.

His eyes never left yours, their deep brown depths filled with love, desire, and an unmistakable need. His lips, still slightly parted, seemed to hover just above your skin, as though he were breathing in every inch of you, committing this moment to memory. When he kissed you again, it was different. His mouth was soft, yes, but insistent, each kiss filled with a silent plea, each touch telling you more than words ever could.

His hands slid down your sides, fingers tracing the smooth silk of your satin nightgown before dipping underneath it. He gripped your thighs, the fabric bunching in his hands as he pushed it upward, the cool air meeting your skin where his warm palms had been. His lips broke away from yours, trailing down your jawline, leaving a line of gentle kisses in their wake. You could feel his breath on your neck as his lips pressed against the delicate skin, sucking lightly, leaving a warmth that seemed to bloom beneath his touch.

"Michael..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, more breath than sound. You tilted your head, offering him more access, feeling the heat of his mouth as it worked its way down the curve of your neck. His hands continued their journey, rubbing slow circles into your thighs, squeezing firmly, grounding you in this moment.

As his lips moved further, down the center of your throat and towards your chest, you felt the way his body leaned into yours, each kiss deeper, hungrier. His lips brushed over the pendant that rested just above your heart, a soft, reverent kiss that made your breath catch in your throat. You opened your eyes briefly, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart pound. He was watching you, his every movement deliberate, as if memorizing your reactions.

Your eyelids fluttered closed again as you gave yourself over to the sensations—the feel of his lips pressing gently, but with a purpose, against your chest, his hands sliding higher up your thighs until they rested at the soft curve where they met your hips. His kisses were tender, yet filled with a passion that made your skin tingle, your body yearning for more. Every touch felt like it was designed to remind you of how deeply he loved you, how much he cherished these quiet, intimate moments.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, the words sending a shiver through you. His hands slid up your arms now, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they reached the straps of your nightgown. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he pulled them down, the delicate fabric sliding off your shoulders and pooling at your waist. You were bare before him, exposed to his gaze, and yet, in his eyes, all you could see was love.

His lips found your breast, brushing softly across the skin before he kissed it, gentle at first, then with more intent. His large hand cupped your left breast, his thumb grazing your nipple as his mouth left a trail of kisses. His lips hovered there for a moment, his eyes lifting to meet yours. He waited, as though asking for permission, and you gave it to him with the softest of nods.

When his lips brushed over your nipple, the sensation sent a shockwave through your body. You gasped at the sudden warmth, the way his tongue flicked out, teasing you with soft, deliberate strokes. He flicked it again, slower this time, drawing out the moment, savoring your reactions. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently, urging him on as the warmth of his mouth enveloped you.

A low hum of satisfaction vibrated through him as he closed his lips around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he began to suck gently. The sensation was overwhelming, the warmth of his mouth, the gentle suction, and the way his tongue moved with such precision. He tasted your milk, and a soft sound of appreciation escaped his lips as he continued, his eyes closing in contentment.

You watched him, your breath coming in soft, shallow waves, your body responding to his touch with a kind of need you hadn't realized was so intense. The nightgown had slipped further, the fabric now pooled completely around your waist, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool night air. But you hardly noticed, too focused on the feeling of his mouth on you, the way his hands gripped your hips, keeping you close as he leaned you back slightly against the cool, polished wood of the piano.

The only sounds in the room were the soft crackling of the fire and the quiet hums of pleasure that escaped his lips as he continued to suck gently at your breast. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every moment, every taste. The candles flickered around you, casting soft shadows across the room, the golden light reflecting off the surface of the piano, creating an intimate glow that seemed to wrap around you both.

You arched your back slightly, pushing yourself closer to him, lost in the warmth of his touch, the feel of his mouth on your skin. Every stroke of his tongue, every soft pull of his lips sent waves of pleasure through you, your body responding to him with a quiet urgency. Your fingers curled in his hair, holding him there as he continued, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still firmly gripping your hips.

"Michael," you breathed again, your voice trembling with the depth of your longing and love. His name barely passed your lips before he captured you once more in that gaze, his eyes a perfect storm of desire and tenderness. You could see it all — how much he adored you, the reverence in his touch, the devotion he showed with every movement. He didn't need to speak; his actions said everything.

His mouth stayed latched onto your breast, drawing softly from you, the warmth of your milk dripping slowly down his chin. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, his gaze never leaving yours. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat, as if drinking in more than just your milk — as if he were taking in every piece of you, body and soul. You whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Michael... please," you begged, not even sure what you were pleading for, but knowing that you needed him, all of him.

You caressed his face, your fingers running along his jaw, feeling the wetness there as he continued to suck gently, savoring every drop of your milk like it was the most precious thing in the world. His tongue flicked out one last time, teasing your sensitive nipple before he finally pulled away, the remnants of your milk glistening on his lips, trailing down his chin and collecting in the cleft.

He stood before you, his breathing ragged, eyes half-lidded, staring at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. You slowly slid off the piano, your nightgown slipping off your body and pooling silently at your feet, leaving you standing bare before him. His eyes drank you in, moving over every inch of your exposed skin with an intensity that made your body flush under his gaze.

"You taste good," he murmured, his voice low and rough, thick with desire.

You smirked slightly, reaching up to wipe the milk from his chin with your thumb. "And you made a mess," you teased softly, your voice laced with affection.

Michael chuckled, the sound deep and rich as it reverberated in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, his hands exploring your body, roaming over the softness of your skin. His fingers found your breasts again, squeezing gently. A soft squirt of milk escaped from your left breast, making him laugh lightly, the sound vibrating between your bodies.

"That's hot," he murmured, his eyes gleaming as he looked at you.

You blushed, feeling the heat between you intensify, but you wanted more — needed more. You reached up, taking his hands from your breasts and placing them back around your waist, grounding yourself in the warmth of his embrace. "I want you," you whispered, your voice carrying all the weight of your desire.

His breath caught at your words, and he leaned in, his voice a mere whisper against your lips. "I want you too," he echoed, his words thick with meaning.

Your hands moved slowly down his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his shirt beneath your fingertips. You tugged at the hem, pulling it upward, and Michael raised his arms, helping you remove it. His gold chain slid down his chest as he stood before you, his body now as bare as your own. His skin glowed in the soft candlelight, the muscles of his chest and abdomen taut and defined, his beauty leaving you breathless for a moment.

You ran your hands up his torso, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength of his body beneath your fingers. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath as you touched him, savoring the connection between you. "Take me," you whispered, your voice filled with both need and adoration.

Michael paused for a moment, staring at you with a gaze so intense that it sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he pulled back, guiding you gently down onto the piano bench. His hands were steady but soft, as though he were handling something fragile and precious. He kneeled before you, his large hands moving up your legs, spreading them open with a tenderness that made your breath hitch.

"Lay back, baby," he whispered, his voice low and soothing as he positioned you. You laid back against the cool wood of the piano, the sensation of the polished surface a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch.

His hands explored your legs, his thumbs grazing your inner thighs, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. You gasped softly, the anticipation building as his hands worked their way up, brushing over your folds with a featherlight touch that sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

He didn't rush. His lips pressed to the inside of your thighs, kissing his way slowly upward, cherishing every inch of you. Each kiss lingered, as if he were savoring every moment, every taste of your skin. His breath was hot against you, making your body quiver in anticipation.

His lips traveled up your torso, over the soft curve of your belly and the swell of your breasts, kissing each spot with a reverence that made your heart swell with love. He kissed up your neck, finally meeting your lips in a slow, deep kiss. His mouth was wet, his kisses tender but passionate, his tongue flicking out to tease yours, pulling soft moans from your lips.

But just as you were getting lost in the heat of his kiss, he pulled away, his lips leaving a trail of warmth down your body. You gasped softly as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your belly, and finally, his tongue flicked out to tease you, barely brushing over your folds. The sensation was electric, making you arch against the piano, your body trembling under his touch.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as his mouth worked its magic, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes. Every flick of his tongue, every kiss against your most sensitive spot sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building into something almost unbearable.

"Michael..." you moaned, your voice breathy and soft as your fingers tangled deeper into his curls. Your body surrendered completely to him, every nerve attuned to the sensations he was creating, the warmth of his tongue sending electric pulses through you. The intensity of it made your breath hitch, your hips arching instinctively toward him, aching for more of his touch.

His tongue moved expertly, flicking over your sensitive nub with precision, tasting your sweet arousal as it coated his lips and tongue. The heat between your bodies intensified as he adjusted his position, lifting your left leg to spread you wider, opening you up completely to him. Every flick of his tongue, every stroke, was deliberate, designed to drive you wild. He didn't take his eyes off you, watching the way your body moved, the way your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, how your hands gripped the polished wood of the piano, your knuckles white with tension.

He teased you, his tongue dipping down to your entrance, flicking in and out, tasting you deeply before moving back up to your clit, licking with agonizing slowness. The intensity built higher, each touch more torturous than the last, your body trembling beneath him.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he replaced his tongue with his fingers, easing his middle and ring finger inside you. The intrusion was perfect, filling you completely as his fingers curled inside, pressing against that sweet, tender spot deep within you. His lips found your clit again, wrapping around it, sucking with gentle precision, drawing more moans from you that you could no longer contain.

"Baby... please," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need as your free hand gripped your breast, squeezing as the pleasure rolled through your body. Your eyes closed tightly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back the sounds of your pleasure.

But Michael wouldn't have it. He paused, just for a moment, murmuring against your folds, his voice deep and commanding. "Let me hear you."

The low growl of his voice was enough to unravel you. Your moans spilled freely from your lips, his name escaping in breathless, staccato gasps. The way he moved, the way his fingers worked inside you, was enough to make your vision blur with pleasure.

Your arousal slicked his lips and chin, dripping down onto his neck and soaking into the fabric of the piano bench beneath you. It didn't matter. The world outside was forgotten, lost in the haze of heat and need that enveloped you both. All you could feel was him — his mouth, his hands, the way he made love to you with every kiss, every touch.

His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot again, pressing against it with just the right amount of pressure. A sharp whimper escaped your throat, your body reacting immediately, your hips lifting off the bench as the pleasure tore through you. Michael's eyes gleamed as he noticed your reaction, a knowing smile tugging at his lips before he pressed his fingers harder, repeating the motion that had your body shaking.

This time, the moan that escaped your lips was louder, uncontrollable. Your hand flew to the closed top of the piano, gripping it for dear life as your nails dug into the wood, the cool surface grounding you as Michael continued his assault on your senses. The wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filled the room, mixing with the soft crackle of the fire and the flickering candlelight, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Michael groaned softly against you, clearly aroused by the sight of you coming undone under his touch, the way you responded to him. He took pleasure in your pleasure, knowing how well he pleased you, how perfectly he knew your body. He could feel your muscles tightening, your core clenching around his fingers as you edged closer to the precipice of release.

Your body burned with the intensity of it, the heat pooling low in your belly, building to a crescendo that had you trembling beneath him. Your breathing grew ragged, each gasp sharper than the last as your core ached for release, the tight coil inside you ready to snap.

"Michael..." you gasped, your voice shaking as the pleasure became too much to bear, your body quivering with anticipation. You were so close, the pressure building, every nerve on fire. Your back arched off the bench, the tension ready to break, your release teetering on the edge, desperate to come undone.

And with one final flick of his tongue, one more expert curl of his fingers inside you, the tension in your body snapped. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming, pulling you under its powerful currents. The moan that ripped from your throat was involuntary, primal, your body convulsing with pleasure as he held you in place, not letting you escape the intensity of the moment.

Michael didn't stop. He knew you loved that extra push, the way he prolonged your release, letting it wash over you again and again. His lips glistened with your arousal, dripping down his face, but his fingers kept their steady rhythm inside you. They pumped in and out, curling deeper, pressing hard against that sweet spot, sending shockwaves through your body as another wave built up faster than you could anticipate.

"Michael... please," you whimpered, your voice breaking. Your hand came off the piano, desperate for an anchor, and he reached for you without hesitation, holding your hand tightly in his. His thumb brushed soothing circles over your knuckles, a tender contrast to the intensity of what his other hand was doing.

"You want to cum again, baby?" His voice was low, laced with need, yet soft enough to ground you in this whirlwind of sensation.

"Yes..." you breathed, the word barely leaving your lips as your body trembled in his grasp. Your core tightened again, burning with the need for another release, your muscles clenching around his fingers as your body prepared to unravel once more.

"Look at me, beautiful," Michael said, his voice coaxing, guiding.

You forced your eyes open, your gaze meeting his, your brows furrowing as you fought the overwhelming pleasure. He let go of your hand for just a moment, gently cradling the back of your head, holding you steady, forcing you to maintain eye contact. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, dark and burning with desire, but there was something else — love, devotion, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that existed in his world.

"I'm close," you moaned, your voice a broken whisper, your body trembling uncontrollably.

His eyes never left yours, his gaze locked onto you, watching every tremble, every moan, every twitch of your body. His fingers moved faster, harder, relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. "Let go," he murmured, his voice commanding yet full of affection.

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape, but the look he gave you, that smoldering, possessive look, made you stop. You let go of your lip, and with one last thrust of his fingers, your body exploded. Your release hit harder than before, your muscles tightening, your back arching as a loud moan spilled from your lips. The force of your orgasm rocked through you, leaving you breathless, your legs trembling violently, toes curling as the pleasure took over every inch of your being.

"Michael... I can't—" you gasped, your legs shaking uncontrollably, your body exhausted from the intensity.

Slowly, he eased the pace of his fingers, gently sliding them out of you. They were soaked, his fingertips wrinkled from your wetness. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his lips, sucking off the evidence of your pleasure, savoring it as if it were the sweetest nectar.

Your breathing was heavy, ragged, as you watched him, that simple act sending another ripple of arousal through you. The way his tongue ran over his fingers, the way his eyes remained locked on yours, made you want him all over again.

"What?" Michael asked softly, pulling his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, still struggling to catch your breath. "Nothing, baby... it's nothing."

He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest, sending a fresh wave of heat through you. "I love you, beautiful."

You let out a deep breath, your heart still racing. "I love you too... but can we take this to the room?" you asked, your voice soft, a smile playing on your lips.

Michael chuckled again, shaking his head with amusement. "No, I'm finishing what I started right here." He extended his hand to you, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.

You took his hand, and he gently helped you sit up, your legs weak and unsteady beneath you. Carefully, he pulled you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you protectively, holding you close as he sensed how fragile you felt in the moment.

Michael's eyes flicked over to the piano, that mischievous smirk returning to his face. "I have an idea," he murmured, his voice playful. Without waiting for a response, he placed his hands on your waist and lifted you effortlessly, walking you to the edge of the piano, seating you on top of it with ease.

"Michael..." you said softly, raising a brow as you watched him with curiosity.

He glanced up at you, his hands already moving to pull down his pajama pants. "Yes?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"What if we break it?" you asked, half-serious but unable to hide the amusement in your voice.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he leaned in closer, his warm hand cupping your cheek. The way his thumb tenderly stroked your skin sent shivers down your spine, but his voice was soothing, steadying you in the moment. "We won't, and even if we did, I'd never let you get hurt," he murmured, his tone a promise, filled with such warmth and care that it was impossible not to melt into him. His eyes, dark and full of love, gazed down at you with that familiar tenderness that had always made you feel safe.

"I promise," he added softly, brushing his lips against your forehead.

You gave him a small, trusting nod, your heart swelling with both love and desire. His words, that gentle assurance, was all you needed. "I trust you," you whispered, and it wasn't just the words. It was the truth. You trusted him with everything—your heart, your body, your soul.

His lips curled into a soft, knowing smile as he leaned in to kiss you, sealing the promise between the two of you. The kiss was slow, deliberate, his lips warm and soft as they molded against yours. Each press of his mouth conveyed what words couldn't—the depth of his love, the passion that simmered just beneath the surface, and the way you were his, completely, just as he was yours.

When you pulled back from the kiss, your eyes wandered down his body. The firelight cast shadows across his skin, highlighting the fine sheen of sweat that glistened across his bare chest. And there, through the loose fabric of his pajama pants, his arousal was unmistakable. Your breath hitched slightly at the sight, the way it tented the soft cotton, leaving no room for imagination.

You watched, your gaze hungry, as his hands moved with a deliberate slowness to tug down the waistband of his pajama pants. The fabric slipped over his hips, and with a soft movement, his hardened length was freed. It stood proud, thick, heavy, pulsing with every beat of his heart. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of him—he was big, the thick skin covering his tip, his veins prominent and pulsing beneath the smooth surface.

Michael stroked himself slowly, his large hand wrapping around his girthy shaft. The sight was mesmerizing, your eyes locked on the way his fingers moved, peeling back the skin with each slow, deliberate stroke, revealing the blushing tip that matched the color of his lips. Your gaze lingered on the soft patches of his vitiligo, adorning his shaft like a masterpiece etched onto his skin. It was beautiful, every inch of him.

Without breaking his gaze from you, he leaned in slightly, his free hand reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing your eyes back to his. His thumb gently pulled down your bottom lip, brushing over it in a way that made your breath catch. "My beautiful girl," he whispered, his voice thick with affection and desire.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, a blush spreading across your face at his words. Your heart fluttered in your chest, skipping a beat as you gazed into his eyes. He had this effect on you—making you feel cherished, loved, desired, all at once.

He moved even closer, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. You let out a soft breath as he grabbed your thighs, lifting them gently to rest over his broad shoulders. His thick length brushed teasingly against your inner thighs, the heat of him palpable, sending waves of anticipation rippling through your body.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with that teasing edge.

You nodded, your heart racing in your chest as you felt the heat of him so close, the tension between you building, crackling like the fire that flickered behind you.

Michael leaned in even further, his lips brushing feather-light kisses across your mouth. His teasing kisses made you ache for more, the way he hovered just out of reach each time you tried to kiss him, pulling away with that infuriatingly playful smile.

"Michael, please," you whimpered, your voice needy, desperate for the connection only he could give.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest as he finally gave in, his lips crashing into yours, kissing you slowly, deeply, with all the intensity you craved. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring, claiming you in a way that made your toes curl. His kiss was demanding yet tender, pushing you further into the haze of desire that clouded your mind.

As he kissed you, his other hand held his length, guiding it toward your slick folds. The tip brushed teasingly over your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he dragged it back and forth, coating himself with your arousal. Your whimpers were muffled against his lips, your body trembling with anticipation.

Slowly, he pressed the tip against your entrance, slipping inside with deliberate slowness. Your breath hitched at the feeling, a moan slipping from your lips as he eased in, inch by inch, filling you completely. The stretch of him was overwhelming, the way his thick length stretched you out making you gasp for breath.

Your hands gripped the edge of the piano, fingers digging into the polished wood as you held on, your body trembling with the fullness of him. Inch by inch, he slid deeper, his shaft disappearing inside of you until he was buried to the hilt, his body pressed firmly against yours.

He stilled for a moment, his forehead gently resting against yours as both of you panted in unison, your breaths mingling in the charged air between you. His breath was hot against your lips, and the rhythm of his chest matched the frantic beat of your own heart, as if your bodies had found a single rhythm, a single pulse. You could feel the heavy thud of his heart as it echoed against your skin, the weight of him pressing down, grounding you in the intensity of the moment.

For a heartbeat, everything stilled—the world beyond the two of you faded, leaving only this connection, this intimate joining. The warmth of the fire crackled softly in the background, its orange glow casting long shadows across your bodies, but it was his warmth that you clung to, his presence that filled the space around you.

His hands gripped your waist with gentle but firm possession, his fingers digging slightly into your flesh as he began to move. Slowly, torturously, he pulled out just enough, the drag of his length leaving you gasping, only to thrust back into you with a slow, deliberate stroke. His eyes, dark and intense, never left yours, even as he rested his forehead against yours. The weight of his gaze was too much and yet not enough—those eyes held you, pinned you in place, as his body moved, as you moved with him.

Your gazes dipped down at the same time, watching the way his length slid in and out of you, glistening with a slick sheen of your arousal. Each movement was deliberate, precise, every inch of him claiming you, marking this moment with the slow, sensual rhythm of his thrusts. His thickness stretched you, filled you completely, and the sight of your bodies connected only made you feel more intoxicated, more lost in him.

Michael's eyes traveled back up, locking onto your face, taking in the way your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, your eyes still drawn to the connection between you. His gaze softened with something deeper than lust, something that felt like a promise—a devotion that made your chest swell. With a slow, deliberate motion, he wrapped one large hand gently around your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse, feeling the rapid beat beneath his fingers. He tilted his head, leaning down to press his lips to the sensitive spot just behind your ear, his hot breath fanning across your skin. His lips were soft but insistent, kissing, licking at that spot that made you tremble every time.

"Michael..." you moaned softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, a plea tangled in the need that pulsed through you.

His breath hitched against your ear, ragged and uneven as he whispered back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I love you," he breathed, the words a gentle exhale of air but filled with so much emotion that they settled into your bones. His hips thrust deeper with the words, his length burying itself fully inside of you, a whimper slipping from your lips at the overwhelming fullness, the way he reached depths that made your entire body shudder.

Your hands flew to the edge of the piano, gripping it tightly as if you could hold onto something tangible amidst the flood of sensations. Your knuckles turned white from the force of your grip, the polished wood cool beneath your fingers as you clung to it. His thrusts were slow, achingly slow, but so deep, you could feel every inch of him, every deliberate movement as he pressed deeper and deeper inside of you. God, it felt like he was in your stomach, his thickness stretching you almost too much, yet it wasn't enough. The way he rolled his hips, grinding into you with each thrust, his body pressing against yours, was driving you wild, and yet you loved every second of it.

His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of your earlobe, sucking it lightly, sending a shiver of pleasure straight through your core. Every touch from him made you tremble, your body responding instinctively to his every movement. He had you unraveling in his hands, his touch both tender and possessive, a contradiction that made you weak.

You closed your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you—the slow drag of his length as he moved in and out of you, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room, the warmth of his breath in your ear, and the way his lips whispered love against your skin. Every movement, every kiss, every whisper made you feel cherished, made you feel desired in a way only Michael could make you feel.

As the tension built, he sped up, his thrusts becoming slightly faster, more insistent, and the wet sounds of your arousal mixed with the crackling of the fire, creating a symphony of pleasure. His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and you could feel the way his body trembled slightly as he fought to hold back. Inside of you, he pulsed, twitched, his length jumping with each clench of your walls around him.

Neither of you wanted to stop. The moment felt too perfect, too intimate to break, a memory etched in both your hearts forever.

"Oh god..." you moaned, the words torn from your throat as he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. The angle of his hips was perfect, the way he thrust into you with precision making your vision blur with pleasure. He took his hand off your neck, replacing it with his lips, kissing a trail down your throat, marking you with love. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, as if you were something sweet, something he had craved for too long.

His lips moved lower, sucking at the tender flesh of your neck, leaving small marks in his wake as he claimed you. The fire beside you crackled softly, but the real heat was between you, the way he moved, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours. It was almost too much, the pleasure building inside of you like a wave ready to crash, but you wanted more, needed more.

"Michael... I..." Your words dissolved into breathless gasps, unable to complete the thought as his thrusts intensified, each one a jolt of pleasure that sent your body spiraling. Every movement was deliberate, every inch of him filling you completely, stretching you in a way that left you trembling and helpless beneath him. Your senses were overwhelmed, consumed by the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his hips, and the possessive way he claimed every part of you.

He didn't stop, didn't relent. His body pressed firmly against yours, grounding you with the weight of him, the heat of him, and the relentless drive of his movements. Each thrust was deep, purposeful, designed to take you apart piece by piece. His lips, never straying far from your skin, trailed back up to your ear, his breath warm and ragged as it fanned across your flushed face.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he whispered, his voice low and strained, thick with need. The praise hit you hard, sending a shiver down your spine as his words wrapped around you like a velvet caress.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips, your body acting on instinct as your hand shot out from its grip on the piano, clutching at his waist. Your fingers slid down, gripping onto the firm curve of his behind, feeling the way his muscles tensed and flexed with every powerful thrust. You held onto him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. "Don't stop, Michael, please," you begged, your voice trembling with desperation.

"I won't stop," he promised, his voice rough and breathless in your ear, every word laced with raw desire. "Not until you cum for me." His voice was dark, commanding, yet filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell even as your body burned with need. He was close too, you could feel it in the way his thrusts became more erratic, more urgent, but he wasn't ready to give in yet. He wanted to savor every second, to draw it out as long as he could.

Your entire body trembled beneath him, your mind lost in the sensation of being utterly consumed by him. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, your core tightening with every deep stroke, with every breathy grunt that escaped him as he moved within you.

Your grip on his behind tightened, fingers digging into the taut muscles as you pulled him closer, deeper, needing him more than you could put into words. "You like the way I make you feel, baby?" he murmured against your neck, his voice soft but laced with a primal edge, the vibrations of his words sending shudders through your entire body.

"Yes, Michael," you cried out, your voice breaking as his thrusts became harder, deeper. Each one hit you like a wave, crashing over you, pulling you under, leaving you gasping for air. You could feel him everywhere—inside you, around you—his presence overwhelming, intoxicating. He was in control, and you loved it.

He shifted, his hands sliding beneath you to grip your behind in both hands, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you even closer to the edge of the piano, positioning you just right. His thrusts grew even heavier, each one slamming into you with a force that left you breathless, your body arching into him, desperate for more. The sensation was almost too much, the stretch of him, the heat, the pressure—it was everything.

Then, with a devilish smirk, he changed his pace, slowing down, teasing you with deep, languid strokes that left you gasping. He was edging you, holding you right on the precipice of pleasure, bringing you to the brink but not letting you fall. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own.

"Michael..." you whimpered, your voice broken and desperate, your body trembling with need as he continued his slow, torturous pace. The pleasure built higher and higher, the pressure inside you coiling tighter with every teasing stroke. You were right there, on the edge, ready to shatter, but he held you back, drawing it out, making you beg for it.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the pulse point in your neck, sucking lightly on the tender skin, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. "I love watching you fall apart for me," he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, each word sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. He thrust deep, hitting that sweet spot inside you that made your vision blur and your body jerk beneath him.

Your nails dug into his skin, your head falling back as a cry of pure pleasure tore from your throat. You were so close, so painfully close, your entire body burning with the need to let go, to fall over that edge into bliss.

Michael could sense it, a shift in the way your body clung to him, your muscles tightening with an urgency that matched his own rising need. He grunted softly, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you closer, pressing his lips to the tender skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your ear as his thrusts deepened, each one harder, more deliberate. The slick sounds of your bodies meeting filled the air, mixing with the soft crackle of the fire, though that was nothing compared to the symphony of your combined moans, gasps, and whispered names.

Your breath hitched, fingers clutching at his back as you arched into him, the intensity of his movements nearly overwhelming. "Oh, yes," you cried out, your voice breathless, needy. Your nails bit into his skin as you clung to him, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Just like that, Michael, please," you begged, your voice rising with every word, every sensation.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you, his rhythm relentless now. His breath came in short, heated bursts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin. "Let go, baby," he whispered in your ear, his voice rough with need. "I can feel how close you are."

Your whole body trembled, the fire within you burning hotter and brighter, tightening in your core. You wanted to hold back, to savor the moment, but the way he filled you, the way he moved—it was too much. Your toes curled over his shoulders, your heels pressing into his back, and your nails dug into his skin as your climax built like a wave, unstoppable.

With one final, deep thrust, you shattered. Your body convulsed around him, your release crashing over you with an intensity that left you breathless. "Michael!" you cried out, but his hand swiftly covered your mouth, muffling your cries as your body spasmed against his.

He groaned as he felt you come undone around him, his eyes dropping to where your bodies met, watching as you coated him in a slick, milky sheen. His movements became jerky, less controlled, as he drove into you one last time, his body stiffening as he buried himself deep inside. With a guttural moan, he released, filling you with thick, hot spurts that poured out of you, dripping onto the polished piano beneath you.

The sensation of his warmth inside you, filling you completely, sent aftershocks rippling through your body. You moaned into his hand, your body twitching as you felt the remnants of his release spilling out, mingling with yours. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged, his body spent but still trembling with the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

Slowly, he eased you down, laying your body flat against the cool surface of the piano. He removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.

Your heart pounded against his chest as he rested his head on your breasts, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies still humming with the remnants of ecstasy. You stared at the ceiling, your vision hazy, as your fingers lazily trailed through his hair, your body trying to calm down from the intensity of it all.

Michael lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face and placed a kiss on your cheek, his lips warm and gentle. "There's my pretty girl," he whispered, his voice thick with adoration. "How do you feel?"

You let out a long, shaky breath, a small smile spreading across your lips. "So good," you whispered, still catching your breath.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. "I bet you do," he murmured as he slowly pulled away, his hands gripping your waist gently. As he slipped out of you, a soft whimper escaped your lips, the sudden emptiness making you shudder.

The mixture of your releases spilled out from you, a thick, creamy mess pooling on the piano. Michael watched with darkened eyes, muttering a low, "Damn..." under his breath as he shook his head, knowing the mess was something they'd have to deal with—again.

"Stay here," he said softly, disappearing briefly before returning with his discarded shirt. He carefully wiped the sweat from your brow, then spread your legs further, cleaning the sticky mess between your thighs and wiping down the piano with tender care.

After helping you sit up, your body still heavy with exhaustion, he smiled at the dazed look on your face. "Think you can stand?" he asked, his tone light, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

You nodded, but as soon as your feet hit the floor, your legs buckled. Michael was there instantly, catching you in his arms, his laughter a warm rumble in your chest. "I knew you couldn't," he teased, earning a light slap to his bare chest as you giggled.

"Shut up," you mumbled playfully, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He kissed your forehead gently, then scooped you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you through the dimly lit house, past the flickering fire, down the quiet hallway toward your shared bedroom.

Sleep began to pull at you, the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a peaceful haze. Michael glanced down at you, his expression soft, filled with love and devotion. He laid you gently on the bed, pulling the covers over you before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I'll be back," he whispered, knowing you always had trouble falling asleep without him.

As he returned to the living room to tidy up, putting out the fire and blowing out the candles, the room fell into darkness, the soft glow of the moon casting silver light across the room. When he returned to your side, slipping beneath the covers, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. The warmth of his skin against yours was a comfort like no other, and as he nuzzled into your neck, he whispered, "Thank you... for being my joy."

Though you were half asleep, you smiled softly, feeling his love in every word, every touch. And with that, you both drifted off, wrapped in each other's warmth, the moment forever etched in your memories.

[someone-put-your-hand-out]

[mjracles]

michael jackson as commander jackson in the sega arcade scramble training video (1993)

(source)