The Way She Wants It (Michael Jackson FanFiction)

..34..

"Michael," I breathe, standing in my place. 

"You're a piece of work, Abby," he sighs, frustrated, making me turn around, "I came to this party to be all seductive and shit, and here you are doing just that with someone else." he growls, slowly stalking up to me, like I'm his prey. 

Not saying I'd be mad if I was. 

"Michael," I breathe again, as my chest heaves at the sight of him. Chris did not do it for me, and Michael is just that much more sexy.

"What?" he hisses, inches away from me, "What could you possibly have to say to cover your ass? I can't believe you just fucked Chris. Chris Brown. Chris Brown, Abby? Really?" he asks, folding his arms in disbelief, "Out of all the people, you had to choose Chris Brown. He's been to jail, he been charged with several things, including hurting women on several occasions." Michael goes on, counting on his fingers. 

At this point I'm not taking in anything that Michael is saying. I'm just watching his sexy lips, his sexy gestures, his sexy body. This man gets me going. 

"Are you going to say anything?" he scoffs, folding his arms again, "I'd love to hear what you have to say for this one." he smirks, unamused. 

"You look," I breathe, stepping to close the space between us, "Phenomenal," I sigh, placing my hands on his chest as I lovingly look into his eyes. 

"Abby," he sighs, letting me know that my touch is diffusing his anger, "Don't touch me." he says, letting his arms fall to his sides from their tight position under his chest. 

"Why?" I ask, softly, rubbing my hands down his pecks to the top of his abs and back up. 

"You know why, Bee," he says, melting my heart with that nickname. I fucking love that nickname that he has for me. 

"Is it making you less angry?" I ask softly, looking back up into his eyes that have recovered from hard to soft. 

"You know the answer," he sighs, shifting his eyes from mine. 

"Where have you been?" I ask sadly, no longer angry at the fact that he hasn't chased me down for the past two weeks. I was angry before, and now that he's here, and I realize how much I actually missed him, I'm getting sad. I hate being sad. So not bad bitch energy. 

"Abs," he sighs, looking down at our chests that are now touching, "I've been busy." 

"Michael," I begin, shaking my head. 

"I know that's what I originally said last time," he says, reassuring me that he knows its was wrong to lie before, or ever, "But I actually was busy this time. We're working on the Dangerous albums and the short films. You, of all people, know how long that takes."

"You really didn't have time to even call me?" I ask softly and his eyes sadden. 

"Babe," he sighs, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Most nights I was taking naps on set, or in the studio, and recording or producing or directing in the middle of the night." he explains, wanly.  

"Alright," I smile shyly, reaching up on my toes to kiss his lips longingly. My mood has completely shifted. What the hell is going on with me. All this love shit has obviously got me all mixed up and disorganized in my mind. 

"Please tell me," Michael begins after pulling away from our gentle kiss, "Please tell me that you didn't have sex with Chris," his eyes beg, making me grin. 

"Why?" I smirk, "Would that bother you?" 

"Immensely," he grits, looking back to his office. 

"Hey," I coax, turning his chin with my acrylic index so that his eyes meet mine again, "I didn't fuck Chris tonight, Michael. I haven't fucked anyone, but you, for over two years now." I re-confess, making him smile deviously. 

"I like that," he grins, pulling me into a deep kiss.

"I bet you do," I wink, hugging my arms around his waist. 

"I love you, Abby," he sighs lovingly, stroking my cheek with his thumb before kissing the space between my eyes. I close my eyes instinctively before Michael pulls away, shifting his hand so that it's intertwined with mine. 

"I'm done with this chasing shit, Michael," I sigh, shaking my head as we start to walk towards the main party area. 

"You said it, Bee," he smiles, making my heart flutter. That fucking name.

"I don't want to do all of the stupid, childish stuff," I sigh as the music that we're walking towards gets louder. I stop him, turning so that he can still hear me while we're in the hallway, "I'm done chasing and playing this game, Michael," I reiterate. 

"Okay," he nods, brushing a curl behind my ear.

"I shouldn't have been as angry with you as I was," I sigh, bowing my head in embarassment of the way I acted, "Steph is the one who I should really be mad at. I had no reason to ream you out like that, and say those rude things to you," I sigh as he tilts my chin up so that my eyes meet his, "I was wrong. I shouldn't have acted like that." 

"You had every right to be upset," he comforts me, rubbing the small of my back.

"You're right, but not at you," I sigh, smiling in one cheek, "I should've found out what was really going on, instead of blaming everything on you. Hell, I should've called you over these past couple of weeks to see what was up. I was just waiting for you to chase me." I smirk, making him let out a contagious laugh. 

"I love the chase," he winks, making my cheeks flush. 

"I know you do, Michael, but I'm done with the chase," I sigh, wrapping my arms around his neck, "I'm fucking in love with you, Michael Jackson," I finally confess since our falling out, making him smile widely, "I don't have time for these chasing games anymore."

"Me too, babe," he smiles, pecking my lips softly, "Let's get out of here. I want to take my baby home." he winks, making my cheeks redden again. Jeez, this man does something else to me. 

"Okay, baby," I grin, kissing his cheek, as we start to walk through the crowd, hand in hand. 

"I love you," Michael says against the shell of my ear as we make our way through the sea of sweaty bodies. I smile, reaching on my tiptoes to say the same against his ear,

"I love you too, Michael."