𝚃𝚆: includes strong language, Sexual content, Explicit content.
Readers discretion is Advised
Imagines Between you & Michael Jackson.
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🔴 1984. Los Angeles Word Count:2.4k
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The Jacksons had just finished their final show of the Victory Tour, and the stadium still echoed with the cheers of thousands. Exhausted but exhilarated, the brothers filed out of the venue, their spirits high.
"Hey Mike, don't let Billie Jean keep you up," Randy teased, a mischievous grin on his face.
Michael rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "Very funny, Randy," he replied, shaking his head as he climbed into the backseat of his car. Unlike his brothers, who shared a ride, Michael traveled alone with his bodyguard, Bill, seeking a moment of solitude after the intense performance.
Streetlights flickered across his face, casting fleeting shadows as the car made its way through the city. He leaned back, watching the city blur by, lost in his thoughts. The past year had been a whirlwind of success, catapulting him to a level of stardom he had only dreamed of.
Upon arriving at the hotel, Michael slipped away to his room, savoring the rare moment of peace. He kicked off his loafers and tossed his jacket onto a chair, sinking onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "Thank God this is over," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes and letting the tension drain from his body.
Just as he began to relax, the phone rang sharply, shattering the silence. Michael groaned, dragging himself up to answer it.
"Marlon, I told y'all to leave me alone tonight. I just want some re—"
"Hello, Michael," a familiar voice interrupted, smooth and filled with desire. "You've missed me, haven't you?"
Michael's breath caught in his throat. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice strained.
"I hear you're in town. How was the show?" you asked, your tone teasing.
"What do you want, girl? I don't have time for your shit," he snapped, irritation creeping into his voice.
"What else would I want?" you replied, a sly smile evident in your voice.
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration boiling over. "How did you get the number to the hotel? How'd you know my room number?"
"I have my ways, Michael. You should know this by now. I have my ways of getting you in bed with me, pleasing me. You know I make you feel good, Michael. Don't deny it, baby," you chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down his spine.
"I want you to leave me alone," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Why's that? You keep coming back for more, Michael. You know you want me. You know you love me. You can't hide it."
"I don't love you, girl. I told you none of this was supposed to happen. Even last time."
"And the time before that? Did you forget you would leave your girl for the weekend just to come see me because she wasn't giving you what you needed? Remember that time you brought me to the hotel and fucked me so good on the bed you and your girl were sharing?" you asked, a mocking lilt to your voice.
