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The Rath of Michael

Reply to Jade Drofsny

Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list April 27, 2004


      "So? Did you sleep with him, or her, or them?" Michael stood toe-to-toe with Max in his personal space, in his face. He would not be denied.

      Max equivocated. "What do you mean by that?"

      "I mean, you go off with these freaks without even a wave good-by to Isabel or me," Michael didn't budge an inch.

      "I told you. I thought they were you. I thought you knew."

      "Yeah? Well, I guess you don't know me very well if those guys could fool you," Michael said. He began pacing nervously in front of the door, blocking any exit, graceful or otherwise. He lifted his open, honest, angry face to Max. "What's going on here? Why did this happen? What's the attraction? You asked me, now I'm asking you are you sleeping with the enemy?"

      "In the first place, Michael, they're not the enemy," Max sighed. He was tired, too tired to explain.

      "No?" Michael's disbelief was apparent.

      Max tried to be reassuring. "They're a little twisted, maybe, but they're us."

      "And they tried to kill you." It was not a question.

      "Yes."

      "That's not us!" Michael finally exploded. "And you better know that in your bones, Maximillian. Because if you don't, we've got nothing. If they could try to kill you, what does that say for us?"

      Max tried his best soothing, teacher tone. "That says that we are the complete opposite and we would never do anything like that because we love each other." To Max, the distinction was simple.

      To Michael, it was not. "Oh Yeah? Prove It!" He pushed Max against the wall.

      "Don't, Michael. Don't." Max couldn't believe this was happening. "You're not him and you would never do that do me."

      "No?"

      "No."

      "Then what have we got?" Michael was at a loss to know.

      "Same as always, each other." Max's answer was so simple, so true. And yet...Max remembered trying to explain it to Rath a few days earlier. And he couldn't.

      New York

      You ever let him do you?

      What?

      You know, my twin brother, Bob or Mikey or whatever his name was.

      His name IS Michael and it's none of your business.

      I thought so. The way he looked at you. I knew you two was close like me and Zan...closer than brothers. I'll tell you somethin'...if it'd been you and me, I'd a never let you go to town without me.

      Michael thinks this is a bad idea.

      I'll just bet he does. So how long you been doing it to each other?

      Stop it. Just stop, okay? I don't want to talk about Michael. I want to talk about the summit.

      Come on, come on. You don't know how it is. I miss Zan so much. And you look so much like him. Friggin' hell, you are him! And I need you. I know I'm the tough guy and all that, the enforcer. But Zan, Zan, he understood. And I know you do, too. Please...I need you.

      The urgent words were matched by desperate touches and Max found himself suddenly lying on a tattered mattress, covered everywhere by Rath. Fast kisses, urgent bites and teasing nips at his ears, his eyes his mouth, blinded him and took his breath away.

      "Max, did he....?"

      A nod. Michael drew back, shocked and hurt.

      "Michael, don't. It wasn't like that. I didn't want to do it."

      "You mean he raped you? I'll kill him!"

      "No, no, it wasn't that." Suddenly, Max did not know how to explain what had happened with Rath. "It started as just a hug, you know, a buddy thing," he said. "And then he was on me. And he looked so much like you. And I was feeling so alone."

      "You're never alone. You know that."

      "But I thought...."

      "You thought Isabel and I rejected you, threw you out in the trash and gave you to those guys? So you could be their king and leave us alone in our cozy world of Roswell cause we don't need you?" Michael's wide, disbelieving eyes fixed Max in place

      "Well....yeah."

      "Bullshit!" Bull-fucking-shit, Max. You know better than that.

      Max sighed, "Some days I don't."

      "And what days are these?"

      Oh, the ones where you yell at me, won't talk to me, walk away from me, do the exact opposite of what I say.

      "Those days are few and far between."

      "Not lately."

      "Yeah? Well, lately I've been taking a load of crap off you and so has Isabel, your Highness. And I've had enough! Stop with the orders already and start talking to me, to us. Stop with the secret powers and the surprises and let us in. Let ME in." He grabbed Max, pushing him to the floor and pinning his arms at his sides. "Let me in like you let HIM in."

      "Michael, don't...please," Max struggled, using every ounce of his human strength. Although he was strong, Michael was stronger. And bigger. And more determined. He succeeded in ripping Max's shirt off , working his way down the buttons of the jeans and was reaching inside before Max was finally able to free one arm and touch the side of Michael's face with a trembling hand.

      "Michael....Michael....this isn't us. You don't want to do this."

      Michael stopped in mid-grope. Holding Max's member with a firm, hard hand, he finally raised his head to look Max in the eyes. "But I do, Max. I do want to do this. I do want this to be us." His voice was quiet, tender, and full of wanting. And he was waiting. Waiting for Max to make the decision for both of them....like so many times before.

      Max held the unblinking gaze and tears filled his own eyes. He gave the smallest of nods. Michael let go of his cock and collapsed on top of him, arms clutching his shoulders, covering Max's face and upper body with urgent kisses. Gone were the wildness and the anger, the things that reminded him of Rath. Only Michael remained. And Michael was sweet and solid and caring. Michael was his rock.

      Michael's kisses stopped at his tummy. And Michael laid his head on Max's chest, listening to his heartbeat and waiting. Max enfolded Michael in his arms and kissed the upturned, full lips, moving on to kiss the closed eyes. "It's okay," he soothed. "Everything and anything is okay between us."

      Michael let out the breath he had been holding and fixed Max with his unwavering, watery gaze. "But do you want to? Do you want me?" The wide eyes waited, willing to accept whatever fate Max decreed. Eyes that opened the window of Michael's soul only to Max, eyes that were hard, blank shutters to everyone else.

      Max smiled. "Yes," he said fondly. "Oh, yes. And I want you to have me. To have everything. I love you, Michael."

      And it was true. He did love Michael. More than was wise. And now, finally, was the time to prove it. He'd known for a long time how Michael felt about him. Known it and done nothing. Let Michael wonder. Let Michael make the moves. So it had come so naturally to him when Rath completed the dance Michael and he had been doing all of their lives. Rath, who had no morals, no scruples, no care or concern for Max. And somehow it had seemed right. It had seemed to be what Max deserved.

      But Michael deserved so much more.

      And Max resolved he would have it.

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