Book I Of the 'Not Vanilla' Imagine Series.
𝚃𝚆: includes strong language, Sexual content, Explicit content.
Readers discretion is Advised
Imagines Between you & Michael Jackson.
Request are optional, send them to @/2badlala on Twitter.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♡ 1984. Toronto Word Count:2.7k
Michael and his brothers had just wrapped up their show in Toronto for their Victory Tour. The energy of the performance still crackled in the air as the audience's cheers echoed faintly in the corridors. Michael, slick with sweat and adrenaline, spotted you at the side of the stage and without a word, grabbed your hand, pulling you into a hurried sprint backstage.
"Michael, where are we going?" you asked, your voice breathless from the unexpected dash.
He didn't answer. His grip on your hand was firm, his pace relentless. You stumbled through the winding hallways, passing by roadies and crew members who barely had time to register your presence. In a few quick strides, Michael reached his and his brothers' dressing room. He yanked the door open, glanced around to ensure no one was watching, and ushered you inside. The door clicked shut behind you, the lock turning with a definitive snap.
"Michael, what are you doing? What's going on?" you asked, your confusion deepening.
Michael's eyes, intense and shadowed by the stage lights' aftermath, locked onto yours as he walked towards you, each step deliberate. You instinctively backed up until your shoulders met the cool, solid surface of the wall.
"Michael..." you started, your concern evident in your voice and gaze.
"I need you right now," he murmured, his voice rough from the strain of the performance.
"Michael, your brothers can walk in here any minute," you protested, trying to inject some reason into the situation.
He shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Doors locked. They can't get in unless they kick it in."
"What if they hear?" you asked, your voice a mix of worry and anticipation.
He moved closer, the warmth of his body palpable. "Ain't the first time," he replied with a smirk, his fingers already tugging at the sleeves of your shirt, making it clear what he wanted.
The room seemed to shrink around you, the sounds of the bustling venue outside fading into the background as you found yourself caught in the intensity of Michael's gaze.
"Michael, we can't," you said, your voice a blend of firmness and hesitation.
"Yes, we can," he countered, flashing his brows playfully, yet his eyes remained serious.
"No, we cannot. Anybody can come through that door, key or n-"
"Can you just shut up so I can fuck you before we leave?" he snapped, his tone suddenly sharp as he cupped your face tightly in his hand.
"What the hell is your problem?" you retorted, your eyes narrowing as you felt a surge of anger and confusion.
His grip softened slightly, but his gaze didn't waver. "I've been needing you all night," he confessed, his voice lower, almost desperate. "The energy, the crowd, it's overwhelming, and you're the only thing that grounds me."
