Caught Up In The Rapture

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The moonlight sparkled through the open curtains. You repositioned your body for the hundredth time that night. As tired as you thought you were, you just couldn't get to sleep. Sighing, you sat up and rested your back on the headboard.

"You're not very tired, are you?" Michael asked, breaking the silence and startling you.

"Oh my goodness, Michael. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me, Y/N. I haven't been able to get any sleep . . . because of your constant movement."

Your face fell and you let out a frustrated sigh. Michael laughed softly and took your hand.

"Come on, let's go for a walk."

"Huh?"

He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

"Let's go for a walk outside. It's a warm night."

"Alright, I guess," you agreed.

Michael slipped on his loafers while you grabbed your flats. Taking his hand, the two of you walked out of the darkened room and down the hallway.

Once you'd reached the glass doors to the patio, Michael opened the door for you and gestured for you to walk out first.

"Thank you, sir," you smiled up at him.

"You're very welcome, miss," he smiled back before closing the door behind him.

The two of you--in your pajamas--walked onto the surprisingly warm stone pathway. Hand in hand, you admired your surroundings. Everything seemed to glow under the enchanting moonlight. Yet, nothing sparkled more than the magical look in Michael's doe eyes. As he stared down at you, you sensed the love, admiration, and lust in his eyes.

"I love you so much," he spoke.

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

"I love you most of all."

You'd stopped walking and turned to each other. Your head was tilted up as you looked up at him, his tall figure towering over your petite one. At an agonizingly slow pace, he raised his hands and gripped your waist.

"Come here," he said lowly, pulling you closer.

"I'm here, Michael," you answered, stepping out of your flats as you walked.

Ever so slightly, you shrunk to your natural height. It was there that you stood with bare feet and a tingling lower stomach.

"God, you are so beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky to have you?" He whispered sincerely.

"I ask myself the same question every time I see you."

His hand made its way up your waist, past your shoulder and neck. Eventually, it reached your jawline. With just his fingertips, he traced your jaw down to your chin.

"I love everything about you--every curve and every edge. I hope you see how beautiful you are every morning in the mirror," he whispered, leaning dangerously close to your neck.

~THE IMAGINES - MICHAEL JACKSON~Where stories live. Discover now