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Triad, Part Five
Reply to GalePosted to the Roswell Slash list September 13,2000
TITLE: Triad (5/7)
AUTHOR: Gale Dumont EMAIL: email@example.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.
Somehow, not really moving apart, the three of them managed to make their way to Michael's bedroom. The remainder of the clothes hit the ground before the door had a chance to close all the way, and then they were on the bed, limbs and mouths and extremities tangled together.
Liz extracted herself and settled back to watch. She couldn't take her eyes off of them. God, they were beautiful, all corded muscle and sleek skin and differences she couldn't tear her eyes away from. She knew Max's body almost as well as she knew her own, but Michael...Michael was a surprise. His skin was a shade or six darker, not quite as golden. Or maybe that was just the lighting; she wasn't sure. His chest wasn't as broad, his fingers not quite so delicate. Other than that, everything looked to be the same.
Her mouth parted of its own accord as she watched them kiss, mouths and tongues tangling together as if meant to. He wasn't as gentle with Michael as he was with her; he was more willing to plunder and ravish. One of them was growling in the back of his throat, and she was more than a little aroused to realize she couldn't tell which one it was.
What the hell am I doing here? her brain asked, making one last defiant stand.
Having fun, snarled her libido, and knocked her brain cold.
"Michael," Max gasped, tearing his mouth away. "What do you want me to do?"
"Wh -- what?" Michael said, blinking. His mouth was red and kiss-swollen. "I don't know. It's not like I gave this a hell of a lot of thought."
"Don't think, Michael," Liz said softly, reaching out and stroking his hair. It was softer than it looked. "Just feel. What do you want him to do?"
"I --" He closed his eyes. Skin. Sweat. Warmth. "I want you to touch me."
Max smiled at him. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He slid down the other man's body and took him in his hand, rubbing his thumb along the tip, spreading the moisture he found there. "Although this seems to be more than hard enough..."
Michael whimpered and thrust his hips up. Max grinned and continued stroking, using more pressure against the hard heat in his hands. This hadn't been at all what he'd been expecting when he woke up this morning, but he wasn't complaning. Not at all. To see his best friend on the edge like this, all coiled need, with his love curled against the other side of the bed, so wet and willing...
Liz licked her lips and allowed her hand to drift between her thighs, stroking the folds idly. God, she was wet just watching them. All that smooth, purely male skin on display, glistening with sweat...Her thumb brushed her clit and she moaned, thrusting her hips helplessly forward.
Michael was completely lost, his head thrown back, thrusting helplessly towards Max's hand. Dark eyes were fixed on him, stripping him bare beyond skin. A hand reached out and stroked his balls, creating a rhythm that threatened to destroy him. He bit his lip to keep from screaming.
"You're still holding back, Michael," Max murmured, nipping at his collarbone. "Stop it. Let go." He leaned up and kissed him hungrily. "Show me."
Michael lost it then, screaming, jerking, coming so strongly he thought he'd die. Panting, his breath harsh in his own ears, he felt Max's tongue on him, cleaning him. He reached out with a hand and stroked the other man's hair, savoring the feel of it beneath his fingers. Warm, dark silk.
"Liz..." he began, turning his head to look at her. She was draped across the other side of the bed, her fingers lazily working her core.
She shook her head. "Not about me, Michael, remember?" A smile touched her lips. "I'm too busy enjoying the view."
"You just like watching," Max teased, kissing the low edge of Michael's stomach. "You can stay there if you want, baby, but we're going to have to move."
Michael looked down at him. "Why?"
"The bed's not stable enough. It'll move around when I fuck you, and that's not going to work. On the floor."
The words sent a jolt straight through his body to his cock. Muscles in his chest he hadn't been previously aware of tightened painfully. "I -- I don't --" he started.
Max looked up from his nuzzling. "We don't have to if you don't want," he said quietly, locking his eyes on Michael's. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."
That wasn't what his eyes were saying, of course. He wanted nothing more than to knock Michael to the ground and plunge inside him. But if Michael didn't want that, he wouldn't do it. Even in this, he was watching out for him, protecting him -- even from his own desires.
That thought made up his mind for him. He lowered his mouth to Max's and kissed him, tracing his tongue with his own. "I want you inside me," he said finally, little more than a whisper, reaching out and stroking the curve of his cheek with his thumb.
The smile that met those words was more than reward enough. "Then that's what you'll get," Max murmured, and angled his head to take the thumb into his mouth, sucking lightly.
/Almost like he would with/ -- his libido started, but he turned off the speakers before he heard any more.
"Um...I don't have...anything," he said, breathing heavily. "And I don't think that you do, so I don't know how we're going to --"
Liz was up off the bed in a flash, disappearing to the other room. When she reappeared a few moments later, she pressed a tube into his other hand. He shot her a look.
"I like to be prepared," she said simply, ignoring the fact that she was blushing bright red.
Michael shot Max a look, but the one he received was all bland innocence. "I don't even want to know," he said, looking back and forth between the two of them.
"Good," he said, sliding Michael's thumb from his mouth, "because I'm not about to tell you. Now move."
Funny, those words should have been inspiring motion in him. They weren't, though. Strange. He ordered his hands and feet to work, but they didn't.
"Michael," Liz said softly, touching his cheek. "It's all right. Really. It's...it's going to be uncomfortable, yeah, but you don't have to do it alone if you don't want."
He blinked. "What --"
"Here." She lifted her hand and touched it to his temple, then repeated the motion with one of his hands to hers. "I want to show you something. Look."
He took a deep breath and concentrated.
So deep; he was so deep inside her, this strange new position, and it would have hurt if he hadn't been right there beside her, taking her pain and making it his. And giving her his pleasure, too; every motion was salt-sweet, terrible joy wrapped up in skin. His moan broke her lips; his back tightened with her tension. They were one now, moving closer together every day, and nowhere was it more evident than here, now, this.
Michael gasped, the shock of her memory washing over him. She shifted position slightly and guided him down to his hands and knees, rested her forehead against his. They looked like mirror images, crouching on the floor, eyes locked.
"Do it," she moaned, his pleasure shivering down her spine. "Hurry. He's...we want you to. Please."
Max's throat threatened to close up on him. "Liz...God, you don't have to --"
"I know I don't. Hurry." She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Please."
He took a long, shuddering breath and plucked the tube where Michael had dropped it, coating his fingers with it. "I'll be as gentle as I can," he murmured, nuzzling the side of the other man's face. "It...it could be a little uncomfortable."
"Will it hurt?" Michael managed, never turning his head.
"A little. But not that much, if you relax." He took another breath. "Just relax," he said again, and slipped one finger between his cheeks, finding the opening there and driving inside him. Oh God, this was so good, so sweet, he was so goddamned *tight*...
Michael gasped, pushing his hips up, unable to restrain the bolt of terror that ran through him. This wasn't what he'd been expecting at all. This was strange, and a little frightening, and --
"Relax," Liz said, her breath warm on his face. Her eyes were just as panicked as his had to be, but her voice was perfectly calm. "It's weird. I know it feels weird. But it gets easier if you stop fighting."
He looked at her and nodded slowly, forced his muscles to relax. A moment's pause, and then a second finger was inside him, kneading the ring of muscle almost tenderly. It wasn't that bad, he realized. Not the most natural feeling in the world, but not as terrifying as he'd thought it to be even a moment ago.
A third and fourth followed the first two, and Michael drove his hips back sharply, almost desperate. "Now," he whispered, his breath coming quicker and faster. "Now, please, hurry, *now*."
He paused, nuzzling Michael's lower back. "Can I --"
"Yes," Liz gasped, flares of sensation washing over her. Not all of them were hers. "Whatever you want, yes."
He moved back into position, slicking his cock, noting the pleasure almost absently. He spared a glance at the two of them, minds already connected, and gripped Michael's hips firmly in his hands. A moment of contact; only a moment.
Then he slipped inside Michael and into both of their minds, and the bottom fell out of the world.
Three sets of thoughts melding as one. Bodies moving by rote, minds lost to sensation.
This couldn't last. It wasn't meant to. Faster now, faster, muscles were tightening and bodies preparing for release.
Screams. Convulsions. One.
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