The Way She Wants It (Michael Jackson FanFiction)

..9..

"Hey," he grins as I flop down beside him on the couch.

"Heeeeyyyy," I slur as I tuck myself into a ball and turn my head to look at him. I smile widely as he starts to chuckles. 

"How much did you have to drink?" he asks, brushing curls out of my face.

"Oh you know Janet, she just keeps going," I continually slur, "So I did too." I giggle, turning to look at Janet who is sprawled across the pool table, out like a light. 

"I was trying to get your attention all night," he mumbles, "I really wanted to hang out with you." 

"You did?" I smile happily as he wraps his arms around my shoulder.

"Of course," he scoffs, "why do you think I invited you over?" I stare up at him with big eyes as he smiles, "You're gorgeous." he mutters, making my cheeks redden.

"Well you're sexy," I smile, placing my hand on his stomach.

"Oh really?" he laughs at my drunken state, "When did you come up with that idea?" 

"When I first saw you I wanted to jump you on the spot." I mumble, resting my head in his lap.

"Oh really?" he says again, brushing my hair out of my face to see the side that is not on his lap. 

"Yeah," I sigh, "If you want we can fuck now." I offer, knowing I would never if I wasn't drunk. I mean, I would want to, but I'd seduce him, not outright tell him we could fuck. 

"What?" he asks shocked as I sit up to look at his visage.

"What?" I mock, placing my hand on his thigh, close to his crotch, "We could if you want to." he looks at me for a second before a large grin consumes his face.

"No," he shakes his head, "If we're going to have sex, I want you sober. I'm almost one hundred percent sure you're going to regret this tomorrow if we do." 

"So you don't want to fuck me?" I pout, looking down at my hand still on his thigh.

"No, no, that's not at all what I'm saying," he sighs, reaching out to touch my flushed cheek, "I think you're very attractive, but I want you to remember the first time we're together." he mumbles softly, staring into my fuzzy eyes.

"I'm tired," I sigh groggily, placing my head back in his lap. Michael plays with my hair as I lowly shut my eyes.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asks as I feel myself fading out.

"No, it's okay." I mutter before he says something I don't quite catch because I'm fast asleep.

*

"Fuuuuccckkk," I groan, covering my eyes from the light shining into the room. I roll onto my stomach and stuff my face into a very soft pillow that I don't remember owning. 

Wait. 

What?

No. No. NO.

"Oh my god," I mumble, rubbing my eyes before letting them pop open. I look around a very tasteful bedroom with everything red, black or white and wood trimming on a couple features. I look at the side table, made out of glass, and see a glass of water. I sit up, looking down at my clothing that is not my own, "What the shit." I mumble, looking around.

Where am I?

What did I do?

There is no one in the bed with me, but this is definitely a mans bedroom. This is a very manly room. I step out of the bed and look around.