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Hiedra, Part Two

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list March 11, 2001

Title: Hiedra 2/?
Author: Scynneh
E-mail: Scynneh@yahoo.com
Feedback: Sure'd be peachy
Disclaimer: If I owned them, prime tine would be a lot more smut-filled- I can dream, can I?
Dedications: To everyone that gave me great feedback, I ran upstairs and was very creative for an hour. Next bit is on the stove right now..*funny image of Michael and Kyle sitting nekkid in a pot of chocolate*
Rating: Going in the direction of NC-17, so if you're not supposed to read this, what're you doing here? Go, find something wholesome!
Author's Notes: I don't think there is any real lesson to this story, I wanted to see if I could write Michael/Kyle, and I LIKE writing Maria/Tess, so tell me how I did. Oh, and when I write Melissa's challenges, I can pretend that finals don't exist.
Spoilers: Clothes do not remain on people in this story. Does anyone object? No? Excellent, onward we go!



        Pork rinds are essential for watching sports in male company, and a lack of such a snack made any gathering incomplete. So Michael headed off Max's offers to be the designated gofer, as he'd be apt to find some 'duty' to perform instead of the agreed upon relaxation session, so as a result, Michael had volunteered to go out and find some munchies. He was on his way to the supermarket when he saw Kyle standing on the sidewalk, doing an admirable impression of a traffic cone, blocking everyone's way and being annoying without really serving a purpose. "Valenti, what're you doing, besides blocking traffic?" Michael demanded, walking closer to the athlete. When the other young man didn't respond, he turned to follow Kyle's line of sight, and his mouth fell open in astonishment.

        Two girls kissing, one of whom was his girlfriend, and the other, Tess, part of his alien family. It looked as if the two of them were getting better acquainted as no one else was available. Michael spared Kyle another glance, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Seemed as though being 'reborn' wasn't doing anything to cap off a healthy teenage curiosity.

        "You know you're worse than pathetic when you start thinking of women as servants and men as clients and realizing whoa, that explains everything," Kyle said without taking his eyes off the girls who had separated the amount needed to walk out of the street and somewhere that they could presumably continue their 'getting to know you' session.

        "Yeah, and then you also know why you haven't gotten laid," Michael responded, not showing any expression when the ex-sheriff's on glared at him.

        Illusions of being 'just another one of the little people' are important. Take Marie Antoinette; she played dress up in her designer Parisian farm cloths and frolicked with her perfumed sheep, because she wanted to be the same but not, because to be a nobody is to be dead. Further proof pf her deranged mental state is seen in her liking for decorating every square inch of her royal audience chamber with plump little cherubs. Michelangelo would have been embarrassed. God too, if He knew what was going on. Kyle watched Maria and Tess walk off, their hips swaying and rubbing together in an unmistakable prelude. He sighed and was thinking about where to go and get some privacy to take care of his erection, when Michael grabbed his arm. "What the hell're you doing?" Kyle demanded as he was yanked behind the other man, following so long as this didn't turn into some freaky alien mission.

        "Do you really want to take care of that without seeing the rest of the double feature?" Michael inquired, not taking his eyes off Maria's behind. She'd seen him, he knew the bump and grind of her hips at a distance as well as if she were giving him a private performance, and as she'd tossed her hair out of the way of Tess' questing hands, he'd seen her wink. She was going to give him hell, the set of her eyes told him that much, but if watching her and Tess was meant to be discipline, he'd misbehave more often.

        Typical male baseness, his more sensitive side hissed. His libido took the stage and gave his conscience a good shove into the wings.

        Tess and Maria led the way through the streets of Roswell to an apartment building that was familiar to Michael, it was where Courtney had stayed, spied on him and made a shrine to what she believed was worth following, and damned if his little spitfire wasn't making a statement: 'be careful with what you have, it's more important that you know.' Or something sappy like that, he just thought it was considerate that she'd chosen a location where he and Jr. Valenti could watch the proceedings. The windows across the street and up several floors were illuminated when the two boys had reached the apartment window that faced the street, and Michael took a good long look at the actresses undressing before handing the binoculars to Kyle. Poor boy stared down at them as if they were covered in toxic waste, and grimaced as if he were only doing this under duress, and then lifted the viewer to his eyes. When he didn't make any movement to return Michael's 'birdwatching' aide, Michael decided to tease the absurdly uptight jock.

        "A voyeur is a dark comedian. He is repulsive in his dark anonymity, in his secret invasion," Michael whispered, and Kyle frowned at him. That rasping voice over his shoulder was doing strange things to him and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

        "Jim Morrison," was the clarifying reply, and Kyle nodded as if he'd known that.

        "He's got syrup for a voice," the alien continued softly. "Just rolls over your ears, intimate, like an old lover."

        Now Kyle was more than a tiny bit freaked out. Since when had Michael grown an appreciation for music? From what he'd heard, Guerin was one of a select group of students that only managed to get by with occasional appearances and mediocre grades.

        "Don't need to be valedictorian to like the classics," Michael said, and Kyle wanted to know how he knew just what was going through his mind. "You pass high school by breathing through your mouth, and honor society requires nasal inhalations." There was the gleam of amusement in eyes briefly caught in the light of a sign flickering outside the window. "Just because I don't belong doesn't mean I don't know the basics."

        I didn't say that," Kyle protested.

        "Didn't need to, Valenti, you've got 'stuck up' written up and down your 'hot shit' jeans. How the hell do you get into those? The shimmy?" Michael's amusement needled at Kyle's decision to not smack the mouthy alien. The tone was the most invasive part of this conversation; everyone knew that Guerin excelled at pissing people off, whether by speech or action, his dad had told him that he had an arrest record for breaking and entering as well as vandalism. Whatever his role on their home planet was, tact was sure not included in the job description.

        "Michael, we haven't had the best history, and I don't know why you want to get into a fight over my choice of clothes right now, but I want to say that whatever's happened between us is history." Kyle held out a hand and waited for Michael to shake it.

        Hurry up, he urged mentally. The sooner you stop hassling me, the sooner I can get back to watching Tess go down on Maria.

        "With a judicious mix of Prozac and Valium there would be no history," Michael said with a blank solemnity, but shook Kyle's hand. Shaking off the concern that there would be some further discord between them, Kyle returned to watching the girls' show.

        It appeared that Tess was taking the lead for the time being, pressing Maria into the window, breasts flattened against the panes, face laid sideways, mouth open, her gasps audible in the minds of the watchers. Tess was an outline behind the naked girl, and Kyle had to give credit where it was due; aliens were very adept at removing obstacles to their goals, whatever they might be.

        From the way Maria was moving restlessly, her hands clenching and relaxing, it seemed that Tess was taking the leisurely path downwards, and making the trip as delightful as possible. But Maria had the appearance of someone about to turn and grab her partner to cut down to what she wanted, and Kyle knew the feeling.

        If he was ready to unbutton his pants, even with Michael here beside him, he couldn't imagine how Maria must feel, having been without stimulation for so long. How Michael was able to keep his hands to himself all day long was beyond him; Maria was a nymph formed out of steam and afternoon sun, whereas Tess shimmered, icy surface, but beneath, a supernova. Together, they put off solar flares that were sending Kyle to the edge of his control, and he loved every second of it while wishing for some sort of reprieve.

        What he got was shocking but not altogether unwanted. He'd always known that Michael could move fast; he'd gotten away from Max's lectures quick enough that he could have done some work on the track team, but this was ridiculous. Kyle had been staring at the girls across the street, and then he was on the floor, Michael crouching over him, the night making him seem even less human than usual. Breath was a strange mix of what he assumed was tabasco and a tingling that felt like microscopic crystals of sugar brushing his face.

        In that second where Kyle was debating whether to throw Michael across the room for not being able to restrain some kooky alien instinct, or take this as a challenge to his wrestling abilities and pinning the twerp, Michael lips brushed against his own, whisking touches, a sampler of the two extremes that the aliens found so tasty, and Kyle now could tell why. Michael was the spices and force of heated crimson, and the cool electric buzz of sugar on the tongue. And when Guerin drew back, Kyle was left staring up at him, aroused past anything he'd ever imagined, unsure of what would happen next.

Continue to Part Three

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