Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Britney Spears had had a rough week. That night, as she slept, she had an erotic dream. Only it wasn’t about her ex, Kevin Federline. It was about... him — Michael Jackson.

It was her regular week night. Britney was on her computer, surfing the Internet. After a few minutes, she felt someone’s presence in her cold, empty room. She chose not to mind it and kept on typing away. Then she heard a soft and gentle voice say, “You’ve got a typo here.”

She turned around sharply to see Michael looking at the screen, his eyes shining.

She stuttered, “Uh, hi, Michael.”

He smiled and said, "Hello, Britney. May I join you?"

She nodded furiously and stammered, "Yes, yes."

He looked around for an extra chair but saw none. So Britney stood up and said, "Here, Michael. You can sit down here."

He looked at her, devoured her with those seductive bedroom dark eyes of his and asked softly, “Where will you sit?”

He slowly smiled that... sexy I’m-planning-something grin (which, she knew, was quite different from his big-kid grin that seemed to be his trademark).

She swallowed hard and replied, “Anywhere. This is my room, of course.”

He sat down on her chair and looked up at her, his eyes innocent and pure — while his was grin devilish and mischievous. He patted his lap and said (shyly), “Why don’t you sit here?” He raised his eyebrows and winked. Not getting his plan (well, at least not yet anyway), she obediently sat down on his lap. His grin grew even wider and he ran his long and graceful fingers through her hair. Without warning, he kissed her neck and his hand touched her knees slightly.

She felt his hand moving upward, wanting to touch something. Her breath came in huge gasps as he neared his target. Closer... closer... closer. Then... he touched it. The place where no one has ever touched her before (which applied to, well, virgins). The gentle pressure. The touch became a stroke and he kissed her lips. He kept on kissing her, teasing her, arousing her, making her want him until she was physically ill with need. She was in dire need to touch him — to be one with him.

He, then, declared his burning love he had for her on her ear and asked, very gentlemanly, “May I dance with you?”

She looked at his eyes, now burning with desire, and replied, “Yes...”

He removed her clothes slowly. As soon as she was completely naked, he carried her and dropped her on her bed. He gently lay on top of her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and, again, gentlemanly asked, “Shall we dance?”

She nodded dreamily and sighed. Her sigh turned into a moan. He echoed her moan and started to make those “sweet seductive little sounds” near to her ear. And then...

Britney woke up, sweaty and panting. Her beautiful blond hair was sticking out all over.

“Michael Jackson.”

She spoke the name as though it were to be revered.

She couldn’t believe she was falling for her best friend...

I have to tell him, she thought. And with that, she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The dance club went silent as the grave as Michael Jackson walked in. He stepped across the floor in a casual sashay that effortlessly won him the admiration of the patrons. But Michael’s brown eyes were fixed on a dancer-slash-singer with beautiful blond hair…

Britney Spears.

A smile was on his face as he watched her dance. She wore a black dress, and her eyes were closed as she wrapped herself around the pole. Michael’s smile grew bigger as he remembered…

“So Happy Birthday to my friend, the King of Pop.”

Then Michael walked onstage. He looked… well, beautiful. He thanked everyone, then turned to Britney and said, “Britney Spears, you look wonderful.”

As he pulled himself out of the flashback, Michael kept watching Britney. In his eyes, she still looked beautiful.

“Hey, why isn’t the music playing — aah.”

Britney, when her eyes were roving the club, and stopped on Michael, suddenly looked shocked, and her eyes grew wide.

“Oh, my gosh,” she whispered. “Michael.”

Without knowing it, she loosened her grip on the pole and fell. Luckily Michael, smiling still, reached over and caught her, then snapped his fingers. Instantly it was just him and Britney. They were in… his hotel room!

Fortunately, the blinds were closed, so no one would see the act he would perform with her.

Perfect, he thought. Moving silently to one of the bedrooms, Michael carried his prize to a bed pushed against the wall. The sheets were the color of cream, overlaid by a smooth brown blanket. He pulled them back and lay the stationary body down.

Quietly still, as if fearing to wake the dead, Michael made his way to the cold box, extracting a Pepsi. The label was worn from the brown bottle and it was cold in his hand as he forced the cap off. He took a sip, the cool liquid with a sweet taste, drenching his tongue and throat.

He returned to Britney’s side. Looking down at her, he felt a sudden chill. He watched her carefully. She barely seemed to breathe as she lay motionless on the bed, and Michael narrowed his eyes slightly.

How strange it was. She looked so eerily peaceful, a sleeping beauty. He sat down on the edge of the bed, hardly aware of his actions. The Pepsi found its way onto the mahogany nightstand next to the bed. His hand lay on her cheek.

It was slow, unintentional even, but he slowly bent down, his lips brushing her own softly. For a moment, it didn’t register with him, but when it did his eyes snapped open and he pulled back, stumbling off the bed and away from her.

There was… shock.

“Marvelous, Prince Charming,” he hissed, slowly advancing again. But he grabbed his drink instead, watching her as pale slits of moonlight struck her face. His hand moved to his pocket, pulling a card from it. He held it in his hand, staring at a picture of the girl on the bed. She was etched there perfectly, every detail in place, from her hands clasped in front of her pleadingly to the honey-colored eyes, large and brimming with tears.

“Time to wake up, Little Princess,” he whispered. Taking a breath, he cast his breath across the surface of the card. Gold, dust-like substance floated into the air and drifted down to Britney’s form, disappearing instantly when it touched her. With the picture gone, there was left only a velvety darkness on the card’s face. She turned in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Michael smiled, almost like a vampire, yet his eyes softened. Now he was left with the question of what he would do when she woke up…