Work Text:
As you walk through the bustling halls of the studio, your heart swells with anticipation, eager to reunite with your husband amidst his intense recording sessions for his latest album. Despite the excitement, a tinge of concern lingers in your mind, a nagging feeling that something has shifted in his demeanor lately. The late nights and early mornings, the relentless pursuit of perfection—it's all taken a toll on both of you.
You've noticed the change in him, how he's become more distant, more consumed by the music than ever before. It weighs heavily on his conscience, knowing he's neglecting the one person who means the world to him, you. But amidst the chaos of the studio, with deadlines looming and pressures mounting, finding time for each other has become increasingly challenging.
Determined to lift his spirits and offer some semblance of support, you've made the decision to surprise him at work, hoping to inject a bit of joy into his day. As you approach the door to the recording booth, the familiar sound of his voice washes over you, filling you with warmth and reassurance. Inside, you catch a glimpse of him through the slightly ajar door.
“Alright, Q roll the tape again, let’s move on to the adlibs now,” you hear Michael call out to Quincy Jones, the legendary producer, from the booth. His voice seems slightly strained from being in the studio before the sun was even up.
You watch as he readjusts his headphones on top of his head and clears his throat. The melody starts to play throughout the room and he begins to let the music overtake his body. His passion and dedication is evident in every note he sings. His curls bounce with each movement, his expression focused yet illuminated by the sheer love for his craft.
While he does so you look around the room and you spot a familiar face: Janet, sitting on the couch along with a few more people, Michael's colleagues you assume. She suddenly catches your eyes and smiles warmly, gesturing for you to come in and make yourself known. Gently pushing the door open, you enter the room with cautious steps, mindful not to disrupt the creative flow. Taking a seat beside Janet, you exchange greetings and exhale softly, allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of the couch.
"I'm surprised Mike didn't tell me you were coming," Janet whispers, her voice tinged with curiosity as she leans in closer to you, her words barely above a whisper in the bustling studio.
A wistful sigh escapes your lips as you gaze across the room at your beloved Michael, his figure immersed in the creative process, unaware of your presence. "I wasn't planning to, I just... needed to see him," you confess, longing evident in your voice as you speak of him.
Janet's expression softens, her hand finding its way to your arm in a gesture of comfort. "I know he's been a little distant lately. He's like that with all of us too. Hasn't even called Mom in a while, she's starting to worry," she confides, her concern mirroring your own.
You nod in understanding, your gaze still fixed on Michael, unable to tear yourself away from him. "You miss him, don't you?" Janet's voice interrupts your reverie. she looks at your outfit, immediately noticing the short skirt you’re wearing. You finally take your eyes off Michael and knit your brows in confusion. Before you can respond, she nudges you lightly with her knee, drawing attention to the tantalizing view of your legs. Heat floods your cheeks as you glance down at your exposed thighs.
“Oh- it’s, it’s not like that” you feel your cheeks heat up as you protest weakly, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt in a futile attempt to cover more skin.
A mischievous glint dances in Janet's eyes as she smirks knowingly. "Oh, spare me the excuses. It's obvious you two haven't fucked in a while," she teases, earning herself a playful swat from you.
"That may be true, but it's not why I'm wearing this, okay?" you retort, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone. "It's just a cute skirt," you add, though the words sound feeble even to your own ears.
Janet rolls her eyes in mock exasperation, but the teasing light in her gaze softens into understanding. "Whatever you say," she concedes with a knowing smile, letting the matter drop for now.
With a shake of your head, you try to refocus your attention on Michael. When you turn your head towards the booth you find his deep brown eyes already looking at you. A soft smile curves your lips as you wave at him, feeling a flutter of joy in your chest at the sight of his chuckle in response.
As Michael announces a short break over the microphone, Janet nudges you once more, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. Taking the hint, you rise from your seat, your heart racing with anticipation as you make your way towards the soundproof booth, eager for a moment of intimacy with your beloved husband.
Passing by Quincy on your way, you exchange a polite greeting which he returns automatically before whipping his head back quickly, his surprise evident as he realizes you've managed to slip past him unnoticed.
As you slip into the soundproof booth with Michael, the outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you cocooned in a bubble of intimacy. With a flick of his wrist, he turns off the microphone, ensuring that your conversation remains private. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper and wrap your arms around him, your head snuggling into his chest.
He returns the affection, feeling how much you’ve been craving his attention that he's unpurposefully depraved you from. Michael returns your affection, pulling you closer, his head resting atop yours as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo, a comforting reminder of home amidst the chaos of the studio. "I know, baby, I'm sorry for neglecting you these past few weeks. You know how hectic it gets here sometimes," he murmurs into your hair, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back.
You nod in understanding and exhale. The tension of your separation melting away in his arms. "I'm happy you came," he adds, his voice filled with genuine warmth, and you can't help but smile at the sincerity in his words.
"Good, I was worried. Didn't want to distract you too much," His response is a playful squeeze of your waist, accompanied by a tsk. "You could never, sweetheart," he counters, his affectionate gaze lingering on you.
"Although your little get-up might distract somebody else here," he remarks, his voice dropping to a deeper, more suggestive tone. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you lean back slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes trace over your body, settling on your short skirt, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you realize his intentions. You can see his pupils dilating even in the dim space. You try to release yourself from his arms to pull down your skirt but before you can do that, he tightens his grip around you, preventing your escape.
"Not so fast, baby. You'll have some explaining to do when we get home," he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. "I knew how desperate you can get after not being touched for a bit, but I didn't expect you to prance around here in your tiny skirt, trying to make me jealous," he continues, his tone sending shivers down your spine and causing you to press your thighs together instinctively.
"What? No, no, Michael, I'm not—" you begin to protest, but he cuts you off by cocking his head to the side.
"Shh, didn't you notice how they were looking at you?" he murmurs, tilting his head toward the glass window. Your eyes follow his gaze, catching the embarrassed glances of his producers before they hastily avert their eyes, and you flush with embarrassment, realizing the unintended consequences of your outfit choice. “Practically drooling over you like perverts.”
As you turn back to face Michael, his gaze pierces through you, sending a shiver down your spine. "Thought you could rile me up, hm?" he challenges, his voice dripping with a potent mixture of authority and desire. You open your mouth to respond, but your mind is too preoccupied with the overwhelming sensation pulsing between your thighs. God, you’ve missed his touch so much. Missed him fucking you spineless on your shared bed over and over again. Your mind drifts and you can almost feel the weight of him atop you, stretching you on his meaty cock. You can practically feel his tip rubbing against your clit deliciously.
Reality snaps you back to the present as Michael's strong hands grip your hips, pinning you against a secluded corner of the booth, a blind spot hidden from prying eyes. "I asked you a question, didn't I? Or have you forgotten your manners?" he demands, his fingers firm against your jaw as he lifts your gaze to meet his.
Stuttering, you struggle to gather your thoughts, your arousal evident in the flush of your cheeks and the erratic beat of your heart. "Aw, poor baby," he coos, his tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of affection, "can't even string a few words together." You whimper in frustration, attempting to focus amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, but the slickness between your legs betrays your desire.
"...Didn't wear it on purpose," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible. Michael grins, bringing his face tantalizingly close to yours, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "Speak up, sweet girl. Can't hear you," he taunts.
Your gaze drifts to the exposed skin of his neck, the unbuttoned collar of his shirt a tempting invitation for your hungry eyes. You repeat yourself once more, this time slightly louder for him to hear which satisfies him. "What am I supposed to do with you, hm? I thought you were my good girl, wanted to spoil you for being so patient, but you've ruined that for yourself now," he muses, his tone laced with a mixture of disappointment and arousal.
you look at him with needy eyes as you hear the word spoil. “I’ll be good, I promise,” you plead.
"Of course you will, or else I'll worsen the punishment," he warns. Before you can react, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall and hiking up your skirt to your waist. Gasping at the sudden change, you look over your shoulder but he groans and twists your head back towards the wall. “Be good,” he commands and sinks down to his knees.
Michael's breath hitches as his gaze falls upon your panties, dampened by your arousal. With a knowing smirk, he nudges your legs apart, revealing the tantalizing fabric clinging to your folds. "So predictable," he muses silently to himself, his thumb pressing against your clothed clit. A whimper escapes your lips, followed by the urgent bucking of your hips, desperate for more friction. He grumbles in response, delivering a firm spank to your pussy, eliciting a yelp from you as you jolt forward, your face pressed into the wall.
"Don't be greedy," he admonishes.
Hooking his fingers at the sides of your panties, he slowly pulls them down your trembling legs, stuffing them into his pocket without hesitation. Leaning closer, he spreads your cheeks, his gaze fixated on your soaked cunt. He licks his lips in anticipation before planting heated kisses on the skin, tantalizingly close to where you crave him most. You fight the urge to beg for more, knowing it will only lead to the opposite of what you need.
Without uttering a word, he wraps his full lips around your throbbing clit, sucking it into his mouth with precision and pulling away with a pop. A whimper escapes your lips as you press your palms against the wall, your body trembling with anticipation. Praying that nobody’s trying to sneak a peek.
Michael watches intently as your sensitive nub pulses under his ministrations, his own desire threatening to consume him. He dives back and flicks his tongue against the slick bundle of nerves. He sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your breath hitching with each exquisite sensation.
Lost in the bliss of the moment, Michael savors the taste of you on his tongue. Lapping at your glossy folds with his eyes closed. The sweet yet tangy flavor makes him dizzy and for a moment, he entertains the thought of forgetting about the naughty little skirt, abandoning all restraint, and indulging in the primal urge to make you cum over and over again.
But the sound of your sweet whines snaps him back to reality, reminding him of the delicate balance between pleasure and control. Reluctantly detaching his mouth from your throbbing clit, he shifts his weight onto his calves.
"Please... fuck, please, Michael," you plead, your words tinged with desperation and arousal, the fear of being discovered only adding to the intensity of the moment. Making you unable to string coherent sentences together.
"What did I say, hm?" His voice is a low growl. "Is it that difficult to follow simple rules, or are you being bad on purpose?" Another sharp slap lands on your drooling cunt, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from you.
You shake your head, unable to trust your voice as you struggle to maintain your composure. Your legs tremble involuntarily, aching to close, but you know better than to disobey so you keep them spread. Michael, ever the attentive lover, notices the tension in your body and grins in satisfaction.
With deliberate care, he brings his right hand to your twitching inner thighs, his touch soft and soothing against your heated skin. The gentle caresses help to calm your racing heartbeat, even as the anticipation continues to build. Meanwhile, he palms his hard cock through his trousers, the friction adding to the heat of the moment.
His fingers move with practiced ease, scissoring against your warm, gooey walls, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your eyes roll back into your skull as your pussy greedily sucks his fingers deeper, desperate for the long-awaited stimulation it craves.
Oh, how much you've missed this. While you've tried to satisfy your desires in the past weeks, desperately rubbing your clit raw, nothing compares to the feeling of being touched by him. And now that your poor neglected pussy is finally receiving some much needed attention you can’t help but gush around his fingers. The wet squelching noises only serve to heighten the euphoric sensation.
You bite your lip to suppress the filthy noises threatening to escape your mouth, determined to maintain your composure. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, you resist the urge to look back at Michael, to look at his face as he pleases you, so you try to be a good girl, you keep your eyes fixed on the wall in front of you. Your hand trembles as you contemplate whether or not you’re allowed to play with your puffy pearl that’s aching for some loving.
As his gaze locks onto your wandering hand, inching dangerously close to your center, he delivers a stern warning: "Don't even think about it." You whimper in frustration, complying by bringing that hand under your shirt to play with your tender breasts, seeking some form of relief from the overwhelming arousal coursing through your body.
He continues to revel in the moment, his eyes glued on your glistening cunt, betraying the depth of his desire. Despite his stoic exterior, he's missed you more than words can convey. Countless times, he's found himself excusing himself from the studio to silently relieve his pent-up longing, imagining the sensation of stretching your pretty hole. Yet, afterwards instead of the satisfying sight of his release dripping out of you, he was met with the sight of his sticky cum on the floor.
Glancing down at his stiff cock, straining against the fabric of his trousers, he realizes he's reached his limit. He’s been holding himself back from ripping your clothes off from the second you walked into the booth with that adorable smile. With your slick coating his palm, he decides he can't wait any longer.
Though you pout from the sudden lack of stimulation, the sound of him rising to his full height, his warm minty breath tickling your ears, sends shivers down your spine. Then, the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone and shuffling fills the air, followed by the sensation of his leaking tip at your entrance.
You gasp as his precum smears across your folds, mingling with your own juices in a tantalizing blend. His hand wraps around his fat length and guides his bulbous tip up and down your slick slit with agonizing slowness. With deliberate care, he pulls back his foreskin, revealing his sensitive cockhead to your needy heat, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.
His palm presses against the wall in front of your face, a silent command for you to lean into it. It's not the first time he's taken you against a wall like this, but this time feels different, more tender, knowing how fervently he's going to take you in just a moment. The juxtaposition drives you crazy. He steals a quick glance at the window, ensuring that no prying eyes are watching, before returning his full attention to you.
With a swift, fluid movement, he invades your tight hole, burying more and more of his meaty cock inside you without giving you a moment to adjust. As he fully sinks into you, his coily pubic hair brushing against your cheeks, he snakes his other arm around your middle, pulling you closer to him in a possessive embrace.
In no time, he's slamming his hips against yours with a fervor that leaves you gasping, your mouth hanging open in a silent plea for more. Your hands scramble to grasp onto him for support, seeking some anchor amidst the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim with his massive cock. Each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, the slight sting of his size stretching you to your limits mixing with the electrifying pulse of desire. Heavy balls slap against your clit as you hold onto the last bits of your dignity, before turn into a moaning mess for him.
"Missed me, sweet girl?" His gravelly voice whispers right behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your eyes flutter. You nuzzle your face against his hand, lips brushing against his skin in a tender gesture of affection, even amidst the raw intensity of your coupling. With each snap of his hips, your body surges forward, surrendering to the pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely. As you trail kisses up his forearm, he smiles at the gesture, goodness you make it so hard to stay mad at you.
With his front pressed firmly against your back, he continues his relentless assault on your eager body, his cock plunging into your slick walls with a merciless rhythm that leaves you powerless to resist. Uninhibited, pornographic moans spill from your lips, echoing in the dimly lit room as he drives you closer to the edge of ecstasy. His movements grow more animalistic, his groans mingling with yours as he presses kisses to the nape of your neck, stoking the flames of desire that threaten to consume you both.
"Of course you did," he taunts, his words laced with a mixture of amusement and arousal as he notices your legs beginning to give way beneath you. "Look at you…can barely stand on your own two feet."
Your high pitched whines ring in his ears, the unmistakable scent of sex hanging heavy in the air as your pussy clenches around his thick cock, craving release. his veins dragging deliciously against your warm walls, molding your cunny back to his shape. Whilst he pounds his shaft in and out of you with each roll of his hips his round balls slap against your pulsing nub. intensifying the stinging sensation that drives you closer to the brink of orgasm.
"Mi-Michael, I'm close…oh god, fuck, gonna cum…" you manage to choke out between ragged moans, your entire body trembling with the impending release. Your eyebrows furrow, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure threatens to consume you entirely, your nails digging into his skin in a desperate attempt to ground yourself amidst the ecstasy.
"Gonna stuff you full of my cum, is that what you want?" His voice is deeper now, laced with a primal urgency that matches the frantic pace of his thrusts. You nod eagerly, your breath coming in short gasps as you cling to him, your entire being consumed by the need for release. "Yes…yes, please…"
Before you can fully comprehend what's happening, you feel the hot spurts of his cum painting your walls, each thick glob of creamy seed filling you up completely, leaving no empty space as his essence dribbles out of you and down his balls, creating a sticky mess. “God…such a pretty pussy, yeah, that’s it baby, take it.” His groans of pleasure echo in the room as he sloppily thrusts, your cunt milking him fully before he finally pulls out, his cock softening.
As he pants behind you, his breath tickling your neck, you squeeze around nothing, whimpering in confusion. Ignoring his cum oozing out of you, you finally dare to turn your head around. You watch in a daze as he stuffs his wet cock, your slick still clinging to his skin, back into his boxers and pulls up his trousers.
"...What...I-" you stutter, trying to clear your head, only for him to cut you off with a mocking pout and chuckle.
"What, baby? You thought I was gonna let you cum?" He smirks and fixes his hair. Looking so infuriatingly composed as if he hadn't just rocked your world while leaving you a disheveled mess with his seed leaking down your inner thighs.
"But, but you-" you start again, but he interrupts, turning you around carefully and pulling your skirt down lower than it was previously.
"None of that, don't be ungrateful. You're gonna tell me you didn't like getting your sweet pussy stretched, hm?" His tone is teasing yet firm as he tries to make you look as presentable as possible.
"I did, I just thought you'd...you know..." Your words trail off as you struggle to ground yourself, your gaze meeting his through half-lidded eyes.
"Thought I'd let you cum?" You weakly nod in response, swallowing hard.
"Foolish girl," he murmurs, his lips quirking into a small frown as you squeeze your thighs together, still feeling your clit throbbing for release.
"Come on now, let's go. I'll teach you a real lesson when we get home." He wraps his arm around your body, patting his pocket to check for your panties, not wanting Quincy to find them again and scold him like last time.