Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was December 22, 1993. Princess Diana couldn’t help but stare at the TV screen as she listened to her best friend Michael Jackson, the King of Pop (whom she met five years ago in 1988), as he defended himself against allegations from a 13-year-old boy who had accused him of molesting him in a statement live from his Neverland Ranch.

“To all my friends and fans, I wish to convey my deepest gratitude for your love and support. I am doing well and I am strong. As you may already know, after my tour ended, I remained out of the country undergoing treatment for a dependency on pain medication. This medication was initially prescribed to soothe the excruciating pain that I was suffering after recent reconstructive surgery on my scalp.

“There have been many disgusting statements made recently concerning allegations of improper conduct on my part. These statements about me are totally false. As I have maintained from the very beginning, I am hoping for a speedy end to this horrifying, horrifying experience to which I have been subjected. I shall not, in this statement, respond to all the false allegations being made against me, since my lawyers have advised me that this is not the proper forum in which to do that.

“I will say I am particularly upset by the handling of this mass matter by the incredible, terrible mass media. At every opportunity, the media has dissected and manipulated these allegations to reach their own conclusions. I ask all of you to wait and hear the truth before you label or condemn me. Don’t treat me like a criminal because I am innocent.

“I have been forced to submit to a dehumanizing and humiliating examination by the Santa Barbara County Sheriff’s Department and the Los Angeles Police Department earlier this week. They served a search warrant on me which allowed them to view and photograph my body, including my penis, my buttocks, my lower torso, thighs and any other areas that they wanted. They were supposedly looking for any discoloration, spotting, blotches or other evidence of a skin color disorder called vitiligo, which I have previously spoken about.

“The warrant also directed me to cooperate in any examination of my body by their physician to determine the condition of my skin, including whether I have vitiligo or any other skin disorder. The warrant further stated that I had no right to refuse the examination or photographs and if I failed to cooperate with them they would introduce that refusal at any trial as an indication of my guilt.

“It was the most humiliating ordeal of my life — one that no person should ever have to suffer. And even after experiencing the indignity of this search, the parties involved were still not satisfied and wanted to take even more pictures. It was a nightmare, a horrifying nightmare. But if this is what I have to endure to prove my innocence, my complete innocence, so be it.

“Throughout my life, I have only tried to help thousands upon thousands of children to live happy lives. It brings tears to my eyes when I see any child who suffers.

“I am not guilty of these allegations. But if I am guilty of anything it is of giving all that I have to give to help children all over the world. It is of loving children of all ages and races, it is of gaining sheer joy from seeing children with their innocent and smiling faces. It is of enjoying through them the childhood that I missed myself. If I am guilty of anything, it is of believing what God said about children: ‘Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for such is the kingdom of heaven.’ In no way do I think that I am God, but I do try to be Godlike in my heart.

“I am totally innocent of any wrongdoing and I know these terrible allegations will all be proven false. Again, to my friends and fans, thank you very much for all of your support. Together we will see this through to the very end. I love you very much, and may God bless you all. I love you. Goodbye.”

With that, Diana then switched off the TV and let her royal anger loose (like a lion from its cage). “They have no right! He’s innocent — and I believe in him as well!”

Three days later, on Christmas Day, Michael was at Diana’s palace. As he lay on the bed in the guest room, he listened to Diana rage at her husband, Prince Charles, in their room upstairs.

“How dare you do this to me, Charles?! You tell me you went out horseback riding, and you come back smelling like you’ve been with that — that — that Camilla woman!

“I will not tolerate your womanizing any longer, Charles — it’s over! Go pack up your stuff; I’m filing for divorce!”

Michael couldn’t help but smile to himself as he listened to his friend, the people’s Princess, letting all her anger out. He waited for a few minutes. Then, as soon as the house was quiet (except for Diana’s weeping), he got off the bed, walked to the door and up the stairs to Diana’s room. The door was open; he walked inside, and he bit his lower lip in worry at what he saw.

There lay the Princess herself on the bed. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Diana?” he asked.

She looked up at Michael, and the sadness in her eyes was more than he could take. Immediately he rushed over to her and put his arms around her, gently stroking her hair and letting her cry on his shoulder. For the moment, he was her rock — her tower of strength in her time of need.

“Oh, Michael,” she said, “I shouldn’t have yelled like that. But, I guess you heard me, huh?”

He nodded. “It’s going to be OK, Diana. I’m here — I’m your rock, your tower of strength.”

To Diana, that was something — he had just spoken the words she had been thinking. Finally, she looked up into those deep, soulful brown eyes — and saw the very strength she had wanted. But her soon-to-be ex Prince Charles had lacked that strength. He was passive; he never came through for her.

But Michael Jackson was different. He had strength. He was a warrior; he wanted to fight for her, like his father would fight for his mother. (She remembered those words were how he had explained it to her.) She could see it.

Why did I marry Charles? I should’ve married Michael, and he could’ve made a great King. Like King Solomon in the Bible, only without the 700 wives and 300 concubines.

“Diana,” Michael said, smiling now, “come with me. I think a little dance should help.”

He got to his feet and held out his hand. She took it, and to her surprise, his fingers wrapped around her own. Smiling still, he led her to the ballroom…

Chapter Text

Previously…

“Diana,” Michael said, smiling now, “come with me. I think a little dance should help.”

He got to his feet and held out his hand. She took it, and to her surprise his fingers wrapped around her own. Smiling still, he led her to the ballroom…

Diana looked around the ballroom, never having noticed its beauty before. She only realized where she was when Michael slid his hand into hers.

“Diana,” he said, “shall we dance?”

She turned to him, and smiled shyly. “Yes, Michael.”

“You like this song, Diana?” asked Michael as they waltzed.

“Yes,” said Diana, the soothing notes of Kiss from a Rose floating around the room like a whirlwind of red rose petals… at least that was how she imagined it to be…

She closed her eyes as the King of Pop removed his hands from her right shoulder and one of her own hands from his left shoulder. Then, with the grace of the wild black panther (the one he had morphed from in the short film for the song Black Or White), he moved provocatively around her, touching and stroking her with his firm but gentle hands. She knew she had to figure out something… but what it was, though, she wasn’t sure.

“Such innocence in you, My Lady,” Michael purred, smirking as he looked into her beautiful face. Diana couldn’t help but shiver, in a good way, of course. Michael noticed.

“My beautiful kitten,” he said, smirking still, “purring for me like a very… pretty… child.”

That idiot of a prince, Charles, didn’t deserve her. Charles, Michael knew, reminded him of his father Joseph Jackson — in the womanizing department. Charles, Michael was certain, didn’t love Diana at all; he loved “that Camilla woman” (as Diana had put it some time ago).

Michael could see the pain in Diana’s eyes, as well as a longing to be free from all the pressures of being in the spotlight. He knew just how she felt.

If womanizing were an Olympic event, my father and Charles would be the ones to get the gold medal.

The thought made Michael smile. When he told Diana that, she smiled as well.

“Really?” she remarked.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

****Later on, in the bedroom****

Michael opened the door, Diana behind him, and then closed it after she had settled herself on the bed; he made sure to lock it, as he did want privacy after all. Even she knew that.

Then he turned to her, smiling, walked over to the bed and sat next to her.

“Diana?” he asked, a lilt of concern in his voice. “Is this your first time since—?”

She nodded. “Yes, Michael, it is.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll do my best to make it good for you.”

Then, before Diana knew it, she was unclothed, under the sheets, and with the King of Pop, also unclothed, on top of her, settling himself between her thighs.

For a moment, she was worried, and her panicked thoughts showed in her eyes. What if I’m caught? My family, they’ll disown me. And Charles’s family, they’ll hate me! What am I going to do?

Michael, seeing her fear, lovingly stroked her cheek. “It’s all right, my Princess. I will always love you. If they turn their backs on you, I will always be there.”

His words were all it took to reassure her.

“OK, Michael, I’m ready,” she said.

He smiled, and began kissing her with all the passion and wildness he had in him. Diana, her eyes closed, soon began kissing him back. Finally, she was lost in the heat of the moment as Michael moved his manhood in and out of her wet womanhood, while moving his mouth down to her white throat. His fingertips moved along her shoulders, relishing the feel of her smooth skin, and then down to her sides, where they explored her curves.

The sky outside darkened and a thunderstorm began, but neither Michael or Diana noticed. They were too busy exploring each other to even hear the storm.

“Diana,” growled Michael, “you feel so good. So warm and so tight.”

Diana sighed as she opened her eyes. Her ex had never spoken such words to her, not even on her wedding night.

“But Michael Jackson is something else. He is wild, passionate, seductive, and a fire that burns,” she said to herself, little knowing that Michael heard every word. “He is the black panther inside himself, growling, ready to pounce, and animalistic.”

Michael stopped and grinned in a way that would make a black panther proud, and remarked, “Wild? Passionate? Animalistic?”

Uh-oh. Had she said all that out loud?

Diana, seeing no other way, as well as remembering Michael once telling her that he disliked lies and admired honesty, decided to stick with the truth, nodding and closing her eyes again.

Michael smiled at those words. He had seen them once before on the Internet. Even his fans also called him by those words too in stories about him that he had read.

“Hmm. Personally, I find that to be kind of… well, neat,” he remarked.

Then his smile predatory, he began going in and out of her again, her whispered pleas of “Please, Michael, faster!” and “Oh, Michael!” music to his ears.

Finally, he reached climax, and collapsed next to her after pulling out of her body.

Soon he turned to her and reached for her. Holding her in his arms, he placed her head under his chin, then began stroking her hair.

“Wow, Michael,” she said breathlessly. “That was… amazing.”

“You were too,” he returned.

“Where did you learn to move like that?” she asked. Michael smiled.

“My dancing,” he purred.

Diana soon fell asleep, Michael still holding her, and he smiled to himself.

Finally Princess Diana was divorced, he had claimed her as his own, and he felt as happy as a King on a passionate night.