Work Text:
Break the Ice
It was December 31, 1997, and it was nighttime. Inside Neverland Ranch in California, Britney Spears lay on the canopy bed (surrounded by white silk hangings), her beach-blond hair fanned out across the blue pillows, the white silk sheets soft under her back.
“It’s been a while,” she had heard his voice say. “I know I shouldn’t have kept you waiting. But I’m here now.”
Her chocolate orbs closed as she relaxed, enjoying the attentions from — as well as touches of — the raven-haired pop star hovering above her.
As his lips traveled on their path down her throat, Michael Joseph Jackson, 39, moved his fingers, lithe as a black panther, down her shoulders and stroked her curves. Then he pulled away, smiling at the effect — Britney’s eyes were full of desire that was barely hidden.
It was 4 years ago that Michael had made his “Live from Neverland” speech concerning allegations of child sexual abuse — a charge he vehemently denied. When Britney had heard about the allegations, she was furious and, as soon as she could, called Michael on the phone.
“Michael, I am so sorry,” Michael heard Britney say, and he smiled secretly to himself. “Media is disgusting. I can’t believe this kid would tell all these lies of these — these allegations of improper conduct on your part! What nerve!”
After calming down a bit, she then said, “Michael, I believe you, and that speech you made was very well-thought out. I know it took a lot of courage on your part. I’m very proud of you.”
“Really?” he asked. “How sweet of you, Britney. Want to come to Neverland sometime and — cheer me up a bit? You know, keep me company?” he suggested, the playful tone disguised in his voice very well.
Of course, Britney caught on and replied, “I’d love to!”
Ever since, Michael and Britney had become friends. She encouraged him, telling him to be strong. And when Britney was caught in a media firestorm consisting of an article complete with a picture of her supposedly having sex with someone with a caption that read “Britney Caught Cheating on Wacko Jacko!”, she told him all about it, as a best friend should.
“Don’t let them get to you, Britney,” he soothed, patting her shoulder as she looked into his dark brown eyes. “They just don’t know how to write a good story. And I believe that it isn’t true — the one about you cheating on me, I mean. You’re my friend,” he assured her. Britney smiled tearfully as she hugged him.
Now, she knew, they were more than friends. They had started dating a few weeks ago.
As the King of Pop leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead, his raven locks fell forward and touched her face. Britney opened her eyes at the sensations, hardly believing it. Here she was, with Michael Jackson, in, of all places, his bedroom at Neverland.
Or, to be more precise, in his bed, said a little voice in her brain. You’ve always wanted to feel his touches and his kisses, didn’t you, Britney?
“Michael,” she whispered, feeling as though she had relinquished all caution to Michael and let him gently push her off the diving board of control and into the pool of desire.
Only she didn’t mind — because it felt nice and cozy, and she was safe.
Then she heard it — the song “Overjoyed” by Michael’s friend Stevie Wonder. Michael had called Stevie a “musical prophet” and they had been friends ever since they had met a few months ago.
Over time, I’ve building my castle of love
Just for two, though you never knew you were my reason
I've gone much too far for you now to say
That I've got to throw my castle away
Over dreams, I have picked out a perfect come true
Though you never knew it was of you I’ve been dreaming
The sandman has come from too far away
For you to say come back some other day
And though you don’t believe that they do
They do come true
For did my dreams
Come true when I looked at you
And maybe too, if you would believe
You too might be
Overjoyed, over loved, over me
“Britney,” said Michael, letting his fingers glide over her body, “you’re beautiful... so very beautiful.”
All she could do was nod. What Michael said was true. Of course, she couldn’t help thinking that, as a famous pop star, he had so much control over people — which meant people who weren’t in the spotlight. He told his employees what to do, they would catch on quickly to their jobs, and they would perform them very well. However, he didn’t treat them like slaves, and they weren’t unhappy. He was kind, and they loved their jobs.
But then that train of thought reminded her of the stories in the book “Arabian Nights” where a sheik would have a harem of slave girls, and each night, one of them would go to the sheik’s room and...
She cut herself off mentally. I better not go that far, she thought.
So she let herself drift farther and farther into the pleasurable sensations caused by the King of Pop, into this world where everything was just fine, where all she could feel was pleasure at his hands and she finally was able to be free from the pressures of being a pop star.
As for Michael, he purred in a catlike way upon seeing the look of desire in the chocolate orbs of the Princess of Pop. He instantly knew she was so far gone, reveling in his touches and caresses.
He knew how to make a woman feel good. As he recalled seeing on a magazine cover once, “I’m Not Gay, I Like Girls!”
He just wished that he had gotten the chance to speak those words — that he really did have an attraction to women, like most men did.
Then he smiled as he recalled Britney and he stepping over the threshold of a church one day, and seeing a few girls all in a circle, their hands joined and heads bowed.
“Our Heavenly Father, we ask that You watch over Michael Jackson and protect him wherever he may go. Both he and Britney don’t deserve all this bad press. They walk in Your ways, they follow Your teachings, they study Your methods. Bless them both, and lead them to victory.
“Amen.”
Michael smiled to himself, as he loved how his fans prayed for him and Britney. Their sweetness and love captured his heart.