|RSA Main||Fiction by Title||Fiction by Author||Fiction by Partners||Slash Subplots||Familiar Faces||Links|
Hiedra, Part Five
Reply to Scynneh or visit her websitePosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list March 16, 2001
Title: Hiedra 5/?
Author: Scynneh -(SmutWitch)
Feedback: Threats, propositions...? I am very open... Disclaimer: Jason Katims is the barren plain, and I am the fertile valley...who do you think should have them...?
Rating: NC-17...oooohhh yeah, m/m intereaction, FUCKING...say it with me now....
Dedication: Melissa, Jennifer, Nola Darling, Jessamyn, Aelita, Mandmvibes, Cristina, Ashleigh, Jen'fr, Lady Magi, and lastly, Mogley. *taking a deep breath* (All of you who have nicely encouraged me, or sent me dire promises..*grinning at Aelita and her paddle*)
Author's Notes: Now playing on Roswell Nights, this is a small Interlude..a 'Behind the Scenes' kinda thing..or that's what I think..Is that all right Circe, Ianthe? *sweet smile and wave*
Michael looked nearly asleep as he pulled away from Kyle, leaving bruised lips and an almost irrepressible urge within his conquest that begged to be spread open to let the alien finish what he'd begun, at his leisure.
For Christ's sake, how can he be so expressionless and be doing that, Kyle wondered, cock having been seized and introduced to a pace and grip that were as rapid and awakening as hazel eyes were drowsy. He reminded Kyle unexpectedly, of a cat that wanted its own pleasure, but would seek another's, if merely so that a better reception was waiting at the conclusion.
Generosity incarnate though, he moved back and then, frightening and making Kyle squirm at the outset
One isn't going to get people to go West unless they can take the East wit them. Look at the family outside their sod house in Nebraska. Granted, Nebraska is unbearable even in a brick house, but inside in a different tale entirely. They have an Oriental rug on the floor, stove, and wooden furniture, they've made a little slice of civilization in the wilderness by using the crutch of technology.
He coiled over Kyle, dripping words into the cup of Kyle's ear that would have normally earned him a fist, but now only a high yip of embarrassment, and thrill, important to notice that last sound, the upswing of tone, its neediness.
"Sparta ran a society that looked like basic training in the Marine Corp," was given to Kyle's knees, and "Those Spartans were sensible. Believed that children should be had by all, forget monogamy, 'any worthy neighbor' was their solution."
The type that likes to see what's over the next hill, provided that someone is willing to participate in the journey's diversionary moments.
Anyone who does prophecy, such as the 'Gene Dickson' crowd, knows that it's good to be suitably vague. No arguments from the athletic sector there, if the message had gone out that Michael was supposed to be screwing Isabel. and Kyle had missed out on this experience, the prophet would have had to contend with a very angry young man, not going into what Maria would have cooked up to get back at the idiots who thought abilities such as Michael's should be held back by someone as upright as Izzy.
Socrates dedicated his life to asking people questions that made them uncomfortable, and he was alternately revered and reviled for his practices. In modern times, someone who does that has a 'smart mouth', or is relegated to being a 'nuisance.' Michael avoided using his words to expand; he was, arguably, a tactilely-inclined being, surreal readings gleaned from cataloging action and varying perspectives.
The generals Marius, Salla, and Caesar did away with laws and control, and in replacing politicians with battle-toughened individuals, they eliminated some of the power struggles and provided the history textbooks with a few centuries' worth of fascinating gore.
His voice was furious but his face was tinged with a demanding arousal. He muttered something under his breath, and Michael smiled down at him, benevolent in his position of control. "Would you care to repeat that?"
"Yeah, but you don't want to hear it," Kyle returned, wishing that he dared to seize control of the situation, but not wanting that responsibility as of yet. Giving pleasure before getting one's own, not his strong suit at this particular moment.
He ran both of his hands among strands of hair rendered a tone of earthen in the dim sputtering of streetlamps shining in on the pair. Tilting his head to one side, Kyle made note of the sandy waves interspersed with darker roots and felt a curiosity about the other boy. Hot and cold, kind and still cruel as he withheld release. No wonder so many people at school fantasized about him, then declared him anathema.
"Want I should help you with that?" He said it half questioningly, as if Kyle might be uninterested at this late moment. Deciding that knocking Michael over the head would accomplish nothing, Kyle nodded, and the alien snorted knowingly prior to resuming his examination of Kyle's inner thighs.
As Michael approached their mutual goal, Kyle's hips began a rotating swivel, uncontrollable expression of his desire.
When two hands reached under his ass and lifted him, Kyle thought that a coronary was imminent, too much, the tickled of breath on his skin with words that despite their strangeness wee arousing all the same made for a racing pulse and an arousal that was building to painful heights. The proximity of that mouth corresponded with the unconscious widening of his legs, the plea for attention that he was making with the expertise of a long practitioner of the art. Brushing wetness over sensitive flesh, and Kyle moaned, never dreamed, thought, and here it was, all at once, throwing him into the vortex where he most wanted to be. A skilled tongue circled his anus, then plunged in once, withdrew and repeated the action, twice, thrice. He repeated this with different angles, pressures, until the ring of muscle gave way, and Kyle was crying out in hatred.
"Bastard, do it already..." Broken sentences, threats, pleas, all absorbed by the amusement driving him into madness' arms.
"You mean this?" A finger, long, somehow endowed with intelligence, shoved inside his body, sharp pain, intrusion, then it crooked and stroked, and.."Fuck!"
"Yeah," Michael agreed, and another finger found its way into him. Stretching, discomfort, yes, but also that mind-shorting candy pleasure that dropletted throughout his supine length, making him want the rest. All of it, what it meant and would bring.
So Michael commentated as he seduced, bits of nonsense, all of it strange, what Kyle expected from the solitary alien, the sarcasm so often flattening those edible lips, then tilting one corner up as if more was blasphemy in his sphere of cynical observation. Small kisses deposited on Kyle's chest as fingers are taken away, loss, but then...what has been promised is given.
Pain. Tearing, unfamiliar, blunt, and who the hell decided that this was a good idea? Kyle's brain snapped. This was by far the most idiotic thing he had ever done, and that was saying a lot.
Michael sensed the reconsiderations, the pulling away, and pushed in to hit that spot, and Kyle swore, body jackknifing upwards, legs twining behind Michael's back, signaling the need for more.
And his cock, almost purple with lust, is begging for touch, so Michael gives him what he wants, wrapping one hand around the erect flesh, and pounding into him at the same time, all the different caresses, hard and soft, gentle but not, what Michael is, given to Kyle on an unvarnished floor in an apartment where there is no heat but what they make themselves, while across the street ,their girlfriends bring each other satisfaction. That deluge of images was too much for Kyle's overtaxed brain, and he came, jetting his come over Michael's stomach and hand, screaming as his world was redefined again.
Michael watched him, and as much as he would have liked to continue rutting out a place for himself within the jock's body, the other boy was going to be sore enough as it was, so he sought release, and let his seed coat the warm passageway around his cock, then slumping on top of his partner when he had finished, their breath steaming skin too warm, neither caring to move from the embrace newly formed, and Michael closed his eyes.
"Doesn't Michael do this for you?" Tess asked as she worked the knots out of Maria's legs.
"No," Maria growled. Another muscle loosened, and she sighed with relief. And he's just wracked with guilt about not looking after me."
Tess peered around Maria's hip at the apartment across the street and her voice held laughter her fingers moved to the other girl's lower back. "Well, he's wracked with something."
Continue to Part Six
Return to Top