Prichael Oneshots

Game

1984

Prince sat quietly in the chair of Michael's office, in front of the large windows and nervously awaited for Michael to speak. His feet rose and fell without really coming off of the floor. He tapped and tapped his feet to match his quick heartbeat while looking around the Lysol-smelling office intently. Michael was in front of him, pacing back and forth with his hands neatly planted behind his back, folded, as he looked at the ground - his steps, strides. Possibly, he was counting how long of a step he took, or how long it took for his feet to hit the ground respectively. His eyebrows were creased, and he had a look of anger to his face, but only it did not look angry. Maybe stony. Prince stopped moving his feet to his still-quickened heart to sit up better in his chair.

     Prince's nails were digging into the arm of the chair, and his lip was almost busted as he bit into it like a rabid animal; his fingernails were becoming more dull, much like his burning lip, but he couldn't dare look at the man in front of him. He took a deep breath in, then out. In, then out, like a pattern to live in the cruel game of the moment of oblivion.

      Out the window, the sun setting, putting a reddish-orange hue on Prince that made him immediately want to shut his eyes, but he couldn't; his skin looked like the literal definition of a sun kissed man from the Caribbean. Michael kept pacing, but brought his head up to see the marvelous sight of his boyfriend. He flickered his eyes up and down Prince's still body while he looked everywhere but at Michael. He brought his hands from behind him to his jacket opening and took his suit coat off and threw it to the floor, gaining the attention of a startled Prince.

      He finally smiled and stopped pacing all together, and was now in his button down shirt that was tucked into his jet black slacks. He turned so that he was facing Prince seeing the nervousness in his russet eyes. The ticking clock in the background was becoming a nuisance to everything, and was slowly annoying the both of them. Slowly, he sauntered to Prince and started walking around the chair he was sitting on. His raised eyebrow almost touched his curl while looking down at Prince, seeing that his head was following along with Michael, too. 

      Prince curved his mouth up as his head and eyes were in perfect sync with Michael's. His fingernails hit into the chair's arm one last time before he heard Michael speak. "Prince, my dear, we're gonna play a little game. You see...I'm a man with a problem. I'm a man with needs: very, very, big, big needs...and only you can satisfy them." He continued to circle around Prince and shortly chuckled when Prince finally stopped looking to follow him.

      Turning his head to the front, he studied the matte gray wall, then slightly jumped when he felt the back of Michael's hand caress his cheek. Michael was standing beside the chair while Prince looked from the corner of his eye to see half of Michael. His breathing picked up and his mouth is getting dry. "What--what kind of problem, Mic--Michael?" he asked, flustered, then felt Michael's hand grab his face and let out a small scream when Michael put his head to face him; the rest of his body was still forward, igniting more pain than ever. 

      He clamped his hand around Prince's cheeks to pucker them, then leaned down and licked his quivering lips. He pulled away and stood straight and pushed Prince's face to his swollen crotch area. Prince tried to turn in his body around fully, but Michael used his other hand to hold Prince's arms down. So far, his face was turned,  but his body was half-turned in the chair, his legs on and off the floor with his arms held down to one side of the chair.

      "Shhh," Michael shushed as Prince whimpered and closed his eyes like a pathetic whore. He then felt some pressure get lifted from his head and slowly and carefully pulled his head away from Michael's middle. A sly smile was evident on Michael's heavy face, and then, "On your knees. Now." Prince's  breathing grew as he clambered to his knees when he slid out of the chair. On his hands and knees, he gasped and trembled when Michael started rubbing his back and dragged his hand to his behind, then back up again. 

      He rubbed it in circles, his motivation being Prince's purrs of arousal. Prince's head hung low, no doubt that his curls were in his eyes, and he started to grip the carpeted floor below his petite body. Upon hearing Prince whisper fuck to himself a couple times, Michael stopped rubbing Prince's ass to finish with a slap to his asscheek. Air sharply came into Prince's mouth as he quickly brought his head back up and looked at the wall.

      Michael walked to the front, slowly and sexy. He went to his desk and opened the long, skinny drawer that was attached to it and was on front of the chair. There, he pulled out a white lace glove that belonged to Prince, and he kept it from one of their other sexual encounters. Michael clutched the glove in his hand, threw it in the air, caught and clutched it again, and looked at it. Then, he chuckled. As he chuckled, his eyes slowly went up to Prince's; they were smokey, dark. Mystical. The eyeliner wore complimented his naive, young look, and Michael couldn't deny that he was irresistible. He stopped chuckling. Voice trembling, arms shaking, Prince said, "Michael..." he couldn't even finish his sentence before Michael cut him off.

      "I want you to crawl to me. Crawl to please me, Prince." It was a weird request. And for that reason, Prince didn't want to do it. He shook his head, then sat on his legs. Michael's demeanor has changed as he started to get angry. "No? What do you mean, no?"

      Prince sighed, "I mean, no. I'm not gonna crawl to you or anything else," he finished. Michael took his loafers off with each opposite foot, kicking them to the side. He clutched the lace glove even tighter in his hand as he walked to Prince.

      "Well, obviously, you've forgotten whom you're with right now. Now, get back on your knees and crawl," he said, calmly. Prince shook his head. Michael bit his lip in anger, moving a little closer to Prince in a deathly way.

      "Michael, don't play like that, this is crazy. It's only a game." Michael dropped the lace glove and quickly undid his belt, then hastily pulled it out of the loop. Holding the buckle in his hand, he saw Prince scoot back. "Don't mess with me, Michael," he warned, wearing an angered expression on his face like a mask to Mardi Gras.

      "Just get on your knees and crawl," he compromised. Prince shook his head again, and this time, Michael wasn't holding back. He raised his belt in the air, and Prince placed his hands up in defense and fear. "Crawl," he said, then swung the belt down so that it hit inches away from Prince's feet, making him jump.

      "No!"

"Crawl!" he exclaimed, and swung again.

      "No!" he slammed his fist on the ground and shrieked, and it kind of surprised him to be a grown man. Michael swung the belt down again with another harsh force, making sure to get close to the Prince's thigh. Prince jumped and tears began to fill his eyes. Michael then got onto his knees and pulled Prince by the shoulders. "Stop! Don't touch me!" he screamed with tears falling down. Michael shook him and reached behind him to get the lace glove. When he retrieved it, he waded it up and shoved it into Prince's mouth, muffling his cries and whimpers. Michael put Prince back on his hands and knees and slapped his ass again.

      He stood up and walked back in front of Prince, almost four feet in front of him. "Now, crawl. Now."

~~~
      Should I finish?