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Triad, Part One

Reply to Gale

Posted to the Roswell Slash list September 11,2000

TITLE: Triad (1/7)
AUTHOR: Gale Dumont
EMAIL: iphignia939@yahoo.com I'm fully prepared for flames on this one.
DISCLAIMER: The WB would never do anything this much fun with them. Thank God for fanfic, huh?
SUMMARY: Liz and Max and Michael. Oh my.
RATING: NC-17. Hoo boy, is it ever.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Inspired, at least in part, by Sandy's "An Unlikely Trio", as well as a few nasty thoughts Miranda put in my head and my occasional love of UC. Also, this isn't related to any of my other stories. Purely a one-shot. (As if I could top this. Shyeah.)
SOUNDTRACK: "Addicted" by Faithless, Janet Jackson's "Velvet Rope" album (especially "Go Deep", "I Get So Lonely", "Got 'Till It's Gone" and "Rope Burn").
HUGS GO OUT TO: Miranda, as ever, who pre-read most of this for me. Top *this*, sis.



Michael hesitated for a moment in the doorway. It felt weird, using the door to come in. This would be so much easier if he could just hop in the window, say what he wanted to say, and leave.

But he couldn't, of course. Things could never be that easy.

Max looked up. "Michael. Hey," he said, a little surprised. Probably because he'd used a door. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine." He started pacing back and forth. "Just -- let me say this, Max, all right?"

He closed his history book and turned from the desk. "Go ahead," he said cautiously, resting his hands on his thighs.

"Ok." He took a long breath. "I'm...I'm really confused. I don't know what to think, or feel, or -- " He broke off suddenly. "I should go."

Max was on his feet in seconds. God forbid someone leave before he decided the conversation was over, Michael thought darkly, and immediately regretted it. "Michael, don't. Whatever it is, we can deal with it."

"No, I don't think we can." He clenched his hands into fists. "I'm gonna go. Just...just forget I was here, ok?"

"I can't. I'm not going to let you walk out of here upset. I'm worried about you." Max reached out and touched Michael's arm. The taller man repressed a shudder.

"Don't be," he said, his teeth clenched.

"Michael --"

"You want to know what I'm confused about?" he snapped, turning on him. "Fine. I'm confused about *this*."

And he lowered his mouth and kissed him.

It wasn't as violent as he'd thought it would be. Max's mouth was as pliable as he dreamed, and softer. _I should probably appreciate this while I can_, he thought. _Any second now, he's going to shove me away, and that's going to be it._

But it wasn't.

Instead, Max returned the kiss wholeheartedly, his tongue caressing the outside of Michael's lips, moaning low in his throat.

And just that quickly, it was over. Michael jerked back as if burned.

Max blinked, visibly forcing his mind to start working again. His lips were the slightest bit swollen, and his eyes were heavy-lidded. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Michael swallowed hard. "I -- I have to go," he said quietly, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"Michael, what --"

He paused in the window, looked back at the other man. "I'm sorry," he said, and disappeared into the night.

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