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Firsts, Part One

Reply to Tasyfa

Sent to the Roswell Slash Archive July 22, 2001

Title: Firsts
Author: Tasyfa
E-mail: tasyfa@yahoo.com
Pairing: Max/Liz/Michael (M/F & M/M)
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Disclaimer: I own no rights, nor did I intend any copyright infringement.
Summary: Begins in late April of their junior year; spoilers to VLV. After the trip to Vegas, Max and Liz got back together and Micheal and Maria broke up. A/I and K/T are also couples.
One unseasonably hot night, Max and Michael discover that their feelings run deeper after all.



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        Isabel was having another girls' night at the Evans house. After greeting Liz with a lingering kiss Max escaped the estrogen fest in the Jeep, heading for Michael's.

        "Hey, Max. I take it they arrived?" Michael glanced up as the front door opened. His eyes quickly returned to the hockey game in progress.

        "Yeah. Not exactly how I'd pictured Liz being in my house while my parents were away," he replied wryly.

        "Thinking more horizontally, without all of the company?" Michael offered sympathetically. Max grabbed a soda from the fridge, dropped his backpack on the floor beside the couch and he sat down. He held the cold can to his forehead before popping it open.

        "Yeah. I was kind of hoping we'd—you know," Max confessed. Michael raised his eyebrows.

        "Really. You're that close to doing the deed?"

        Max reddened and replied in a low voice, "Yeah." He took a swig of his soda then placed it on the coffee table.

        "So...does Liz give good head?" Michael asked mischievously. Max leaned back, closing his eyes as he remembered that afternoon.

~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~

        Liz dragged Max into the eraser room at the beginning of their lunch period. As soon as the door was locked she launched herself into his arms, fastening her mouth on his.

        Max staggered back as he caught her, his hands cupping her buttocks to hold her against him. He opened his mouth under Liz's onslaught and her tongue snaked inside.

        Max slid his hands up Liz's body to knead her breasts. He trailed hot kisses down her neck, then suddenly bent her back, lifting her sweater to close his mouth over her nipple. Liz gasped as the sensation zinged through her. He alternated between her nipples, sucking and lightly biting.

        Her feet were back on the floor now, and Max unzipped her pants. He slipped his hand inside her panties, finding her as wet as he had expected. Max rammed two fingers into her, feeling her shudder as he began to stroke her rhythmically.

        Liz was letting out faint moans, helpless to stay completely quiet. Max pulled her head back up to cover her mouth with his, swallowing her sounds as Liz rode his hand. His thumb pressed against her clitoris in excruciatingly exact circles, and he felt her inner muscles clench around his fingers as her orgasm ripped through her.

        When she had stopped shaking, Max withdrew his hand and licked his fingers clean. Liz smiled, looking up at him through a veil of dark lashes. The next thing he knew, she was on her knees in front of him with his cock in her mouth.

        Max tangled his hands in Liz's hair, fighting to keep from pushing her head as he avidly watched her lips slide up and down the length of his cock, gaining a little more ground each time. He knew she could not quite take all of him—they were still pretty new at this—but he didn't care, it felt so damn good.

        Max could feel the tightening in his balls that meant he was getting close. Liz knew it too, and decided to try something. She put one hand through his legs and gently slid her finger down the crack of his ass to its puckered entrance, pausing there.

        Max felt her lightly tracing circles and it pushed him over the edge. He exploded into her throat, biting his lip to hold in his moans. Liz swallowed rapidly, gulping down every drop. Only when he was completely spent did her warm mouth withdraw.

        They shared a kiss, tasting themselves on each other's lips, then rearranged their clothing and headed for the cafeteria.

~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~**~~~~~

        "Amazing," Max finally replied. Michael was amused as he noticed Max's clenched jaw, and the sudden tent effect in his black Bermuda shorts.

        "You know, you didn't need to relive it to answer the question," he snickered. Max turned even redder and punched his arm.

        "Sorry. It was just this afternoon," he smirked. Michael punched him back, grinning. All this talk of Max getting blowjobs combined with his friend's obvious hard-on, was making Michael feel a little strange.

        "Yeah, yeah, rub it in, now that I'm single. Mind if I take my shirt off?"

        "It's your place, do what you want. I'm going to. It's too damn hot for April. What happened to your fan?" Max asked as he peeled off his black T-shirt.

        "I haven't gotten around to fixing it yet. There's still the one in the bedroom, but it's not portable, so it doesn't do us much good out here. Too bad you couldn't stay in your air-conditioned house," Michael answered as he removed his own T-shirt.

        "When did you start working out, Michael? You look great! I guess I haven't seen you without a shirt for a while since we don't have P. E. together this semester."

        "I've been at it for a few months now. I picked up one of those bars, like the one you've got, but I hardly use it because I'm not sure I'm doing the pull-ups the right way," Michael said self-consciously.

        "Put it up and I'll show you," Max offered enthusiastically. Michael groaned inwardly. He should have known better than to say anything. He'd known that Max would insist not only on demonstrating, but also on spotting while Michael worked out too, even in this heat. A tiny voice whispered, 'But you want him to be proud of you, don't you? He's the reason you got into shape in the first place, because you're supposed to be a warrior, and warriors aren't flabby.'

        "Yeah, all right," he agreed aloud. He went to get the bar from the closet, fitting it into the holders that were screwed into the doorframe of his bedroom.

        Max stood up, draining the last of his soda. He tossed the can in the recycling bin under the sink and did some stretches before joining Michael.

        "Got it up? Good," Max approved. Michael choked back a laugh. He didn't know the half of it! Michael wasn't sure if it was the ridiculously early summer heat or what, but Max's proximity was making his head spin and his blood rush tonight—and a good deal of it was rushing there.

        Max stepped into the doorway and wrapped his hands around the bar. "Just watch me, Michael. And do some stretches, too; you don't want to be sore tomorrow," he advised. He lifted his feet and began his first set of pull-ups.

        Michael watched in fascination as the muscles in Max's arms and chest rippled with each up and down motion. He completed his first set, rested for a moment, then started another. Michael stretched while continuing to watch Max. There was the sheen of sweat on his torso now, which only served to emphasize his incredible definition.

        Wonder how salty he would taste? Michael's mind wandered. He jerked it back into reality. What the fuck is wrong with me? Max is my best friend. I am not gay; I enjoyed making out with Maria way too much to be gay. And Max belongs to Liz anyway.

        'But he loved you first,' the little voice told him. Michael shrugged. While that was true, it was also irrelevant. He'd never had these—urges—towards any other guy, and he would bet that Max had never had them at all. Especially not with Liz's apparently magic mouth. He felt himself harden even more as he conceived a mental image of Liz going down on Max. Michael shook his head, trying to concentrate; Max had finished and was putting his feet back on the floor. Michael passed him a small towel and a cold Cherry Coke.

        "Thanks, Michael," he said, wiping his face with the towel before opening the soda and gulping some down. "Your turn."

        Hesitantly, Michael wrapped his hands around the bar and started. Max's voice interrupted.

        "You were right; you're doing it the wrong way. Here, turn around and I'll place you properly," Max instructed. Feeling lightheaded, Michael complied, ducking under the bar and turning his back towards Max.

        Max came up behind him and took his hands, positioning them on the bar. As he bent to demonstrate how to lift his legs, Max lost his balance and grabbed the bar to catch himself. He collided with Michael's back, the entire front of him pressed against Michael.

        They both felt an electric shock travel through their bodies from the abrupt contact. He had been quiescent, but Max grew rock hard again, and he knew damn well that Michael would be able to feel the change since his groin was pressed against his best friend's ass.

        "Sorry," Max apologized, his voice sounding strained. "Lost my balance. So, here's how you lift your feet." He knelt this time, grasping Michael's bare foot and showing him what to do. Michael nodded and lifted his other foot, then began his set of pull-ups.

        Max stood back up and moved off a bit, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Was his frustrated desire for Liz spilling onto the first body he came into physical contact with? He watched the newly developed muscles in Michael's back flex. Max's eyes drifted lower, admiring the firm curve of his ass in the cut-off jean shorts. The frayed bottoms highlighted the muscles in his thighs. Max shook his head violently.

        Michael is my best friend! I know I'm straight, so why am I looking at him like that? Why do I want to run my hands over his skin, feel how his body is different from mine? Why am I thinking about what it would be like to... Max turned off his internal monologue savagely. His knees felt weak, and when he spoke his voice was husky.

        "I think that's enough for tonight, Michael. You don't want to overdo it."

        Michael lowered his feet and stood up. He left the bar in place and grabbed the towel Max had used, running it over his face and neck. It smelled like Max, spicy and musky with an odd hint of sweetness. The scent ignited another rush of desire and Michael fought the urge to moan.

        It must be this fucking heat wave. The last one we had was when I got together with Maria, which was almost as insane as this is, he thought to himself.

        Max had retreated to the couch, where he was staring at the TV and sipping his Cherry Coke. Michael decided to give them both a break.

        "Hey, I'm going to have a quick shower and then hit the sack. I'm beat," he declared. Max nodded, his attention seemingly fixed on the hockey game. Michael gulped down some orange juice from the carton in the fridge then headed for the bathroom.

        Used to living alone, he neglected to close the door all the way. Max heard the water start, and Michael singing incoherently. Eventually the singing stopped. A few moments later, Max could hear soft, rhythmic grunts. It dawned on him that Michael was literally taking things into his own hands in the shower.

        Max swallowed at the image his recalcitrant mind painted of Michael standing in the stream of hot water, steam rising around him as he worked his cock with his own hand. Would he make the same noises if... Max groaned and decided that by the time Michael got out of the shower, he was going to at least look like he was asleep.

        Max arranged himself comfortably on the couch, pulling off his shorts so he was just wearing boxers. Obviously he had no need of blankets, so he just settled into the pillow. The only part of him that was still uncomfortable was the insistent throbbing between his legs. He sighed. Later, after Michael's asleep, he told himself. With that promise, he relaxed enough to fall asleep.

        Michael emerged from the bathroom still damp, with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was about to say something when he realized that Max was asleep. Max usually slept on his stomach, but it was all too obvious to Michael why he wasn't now, with the way his boxers were standing out from his body.

        He took advantage of the opportunity to look at Max. His arms were flung over his head, emphasizing his chest muscles as he breathed. One leg was bent, leaning against the back of the couch. His head was turned to one side. Michael marveled at how long his eyelashes were; he had never noticed them before. Max's face looked so beautiful as he slept. So innocent.

        Michael's gaze traveled hungrily down Max's body. The pose was driving him nuts. Max was lying so openly, so trustingly. He focussed on one chestnut-colored nipple, wondering how Max's skin would taste, how different it would be from Maria's soft breasts. He let out a strangled whimper and fled into his bedroom, flinging himself on the bed. What is going on with me? Max is not only my best friend, he's a guy! Just stop it already, he told himself.

        But the image of Max, so open and vulnerable, so available, would not go away. Michael punched his pillow a few times and finally relaxed enough to drift off to sleep, his new fantasies about Max following him into dreamland.

        Max woke slowly sometime in the middle of the night, disoriented for a moment by the oppressive heat. He opened his eyes and it all came flooding back to him. He was at Michael's and he still had a raging hard-on because he had been thinking about getting it on with his best—male—friend. Right.

        Max staggered to the bathroom to relieve himself. On the way back he could not resist peering into Michael's room. His breath caught in his throat at what he saw.

        Michael was curled on his side, facing away from Max. He had been in such haste to get to bed that he had still been wearing just the towel from his shower, which had long since unwrapped itself. Max's eyes roamed Michael's body, noting all the new muscles. His eyes lingered on his firm buttocks. Liz had such a cute little ass. Michael's was more substantial. He wondered if Michael would like what Liz had done to him yesterday.

        With a muffled gasp, Max pulled his mind away from those images and practically ran back to the couch. His groin was aching now and he recalled his earlier promise to himself. Now seems like a good time, he thought as he pulled his boxers off, dropping them on the floor. Max closed his eyes as he began to stroke himself. He didn't want it to be over too fast, he was too worked up for that to give him any real satisfaction. So he started very slowly, just dragging his fingers along his velvet skin, and gradually progressed from there.

        Muffled or not, Max's gasp had been enough to wake Michael from his restless sleep. He was not quite sure what he had heard, but he was wickedly thirsty. He stood up, realizing that he had basically gone to bed nude but figuring that it wouldn't matter, Max was out like a light. He stretched, catlike, then padded out to the kitchen, still naked.

        Michael had his hand on the fridge door handle when he froze at the sound of a soft moan from the couch. Silently Michael walked over, to be greeted by the sight of a gloriously nude Max.

        The moonlight streaming in the window where part of the sheet had fallen down outlined Max's body in silver. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as he panted for breath. One hand was over his head still, clutching at the pillow; the other had a firm grip on his cock.

        Driven beyond endurance, Michael dropped to his knees in front of his best friend. He was desperately afraid: of being rejected, of what this would do to their friendship; of what it meant about himself. But he could not stop the words that came tumbling out of his mouth.

        "Max. Let me," Michael offered hoarsely. Max opened his eyes to find his best friend staring at the tip of his cock, which sparkled with the first drops of pre-come. Max swallowed at the hunger he saw in Michael's face. So he wasn't the only one that had been affected, that was having inappropriate thoughts.

        "Michael," he groaned, intending to tell him no. But Max's body had other ideas. He sat up and spread his legs. Michael moved in between them and met Max's eyes. They had been able to read each other for so long; they were so close. Both knew that this would change everything for good. But they also knew that both of them wanted it.

        Michael broke their eye contact and bent his head to Max's groin. His tongue flickered out, catching that bit of pre-come. It tasted salty-sweet, with the added spice of Max's sweat. Carefully Michael slid his lips down Max's cock, drawing it into his mouth. Max closed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides when Michael's lips touched the base of his erection. He held himself perfectly still, just like he did for Liz, as Michael began to suck.

        Michael knew that Max had gotten himself pretty close. He was a little amused by his absolute lack of movement. He withdrew his mouth.

        "Max. Look at me," Michael ordered softly. Max's eyes drifted open, his long eyelashes partially veiling his gaze. He was so damn sexy!

        "First thing is, I want you to watch," Michael continued, smugly watching the desire flare in Max's amber gaze. "Second thing is, Max, you know damn well I've got a big mouth. I can take it. Just," Michael ran his tongue around the head of Max's cock, "Just let go."

        Max gasped as he watched Michael take his entire cock into his mouth and start sucking. He held still for a few more moments, until the exquisite sensations from Michael's increasing pace snapped Max's control. His fists unclenched and he gripped Michael's hair as he began to thrust into his mouth, feeling the tip of his cock slap against the back of Michael's throat.

        Michael sucked for all he was worth. Max felt and tasted so incredible. Somehow he had known that deep-throating him would drive him insane. He felt a rush of satisfaction that he had dissolved Max's self-control, and gloried in having Max's hands in his hair, pushing him deeper.

        Max was almost there when Michael reached down and caressed the sensitive skin right behind his balls. He stiffened as his orgasm flashed through him, shooting right down Michael's throat. He cried out, "Michael! Oh, God, Michael."

        Michael continued to suck, gently now, until Max's body had nothing left to give. Only then did he reluctantly allow his limp cock to slide from his mouth. Michael looked up at Max with an arrogant smile.

        Max met his eyes, blushing a little as he registered the smile. He placed one hand on either side of Michael's face, giving him lots of time to pull away, and leaned forward.

        Michael closed his eyes as Max's lips met his in a gentle kiss. It felt strange; his mouth was so different from Maria's generous lips. But Michael opened his mouth to the gentle insistence of Max's tongue.

        Max swirled his tongue against Michael's, then explored his mouth, deepening the kiss. Carefully Max slid off the couch to kneel with Michael, their chests pressed together as they continued to kiss.

        Michael's head was swimming under the onslaught of Max's tongue. The thought flashed through his mind that he must thank Liz for teaching him to kiss like this. He stiffened momentarily, then Max's hands began to roam and Michael pushed away all thoughts of Liz and everyone else.

        Max was feeling dizzy and feverish. Michael tasted like orange juice and Tabasco, a heady combination to a hybrid. He suddenly decided to find out how the rest of him tasted. His mouth left Michael's to press wet kisses down his neck. He sucked on Michael's neck, branding him, before bending to lick at his nipples.

        Michael was wobbly even on his knees now. "Max!" he hissed. "I'm gonna fall over!" Max chuckled against his chest, and Michael felt a shock of desire run through him at the delicious sound.

        "Lie back on the couch, then, Michael," he invited, moving out of the way. Michael swallowed and took the suggestion. Max stretched out beside him, his free hand idly rubbing Michael's nipples. He licked Michael's earlobe, sucking on it as his hand wandered Michael's torso and thighs, carefully avoiding his groin.

        Michael moaned. Max's teasing after his earlier abandon was driving him crazy. He moaned again as Max bit his throat.

        "Maxwell, when did you turn into such an asshole?" he panted. Max laughed.

        "You'd be surprised how much you can learn in bed when you're not actually having sex. I adore teasing Liz. I love watching her fall to pieces at my touch," Max gloated. Michael felt a pang of guilt and Max saw it in his eyes.

        "Don't, Michael. It'll be OK. Don't worry," he whispered, bringing his mouth back to Michael's for a deep kiss. Their tongues dueled for dominance; as always, Max won. He drew back and smiled wickedly.

        "I knew how to give a great handjob long before Liz entered the picture," he breathed as his wandering hand finally closed around Michael's hard cock. Max explored it with gentle fingers, learning its contours as he kissed Michael again.

        Michael was drowning in sensation, trying to breathe as Max's lips moved down his chest. Max licked each nipple, flicking his tongue at the hardening tips, then sucked one into his mouth. His hand stopped the freeform stroking and formed a tight ring around Michael's cock. Max began to move his hand up and down, settling into a fast rhythm. Michael closed his eyes as his hips automatically helped, thrusting his cock through Max's tight grip.

        Max suddenly bit Michael's nipple and he jumped, pleasure mingling with the slight pain. Michael was breathing in ragged gasps now as Max transferred his attention to the other nipple, licking and biting. Helplessly Michael threaded his fingers in Max's hair. At last Max kissed him again.

        "I know you're close, Michael," Max whispered against his lips, his hazel eyes burning into Michael's brown ones. "Let go; I want to feel you come all over me." He nibbled on Michael's bottom lip, never moving his gaze. The fierce determination and desire there combined with his hard stroking to send Michael spiraling out of control.

        "Max!" he cried out as he spurted onto Max's stomach and chest. Max grunted as the hot liquid splashed onto his skin and recaptured Michael's lips for a gentle kiss. He continued to stroke until Michael's cock was quiescent. He smiled at Michael.

        "Mission accomplished," Max stated, his eyes sparkling. Michael laughed shakily, trying to catch his breath.

        "You'd better go shower," he replied, smiling broadly at the sight of Max's torso. Max looked down at himself.

        "Like that, do you? Seeing me marked as your territory?" Max asked huskily. Michael swallowed and nodded. Max pressed his lips against Michael's, forcing his mouth open and thrusting his tongue inside. Almost immediately he withdrew, and flashed Michael a brilliant smile as he stood up.

        "I'll just be a few minutes," Max called over his shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

        Michael discovered that he was capable of movement after all, and went to his room for a pair of boxers. He dropped Max's on the bathroom floor on the way back; Max hadn't bothered to close the door even a token amount. Michael paused for a moment, admiring Max's silhouette against the shower curtain.

        Max grinned to himself, knowing that Michael was watching him. He deliberately moved in a provocative manner, keeping Michael's eyes glued to him as he slowly washed himself.

        Michael finally quit his staring and went into the kitchen, snapping on the light as he grabbed the carton of orange juice from the fridge. He was about to drink from it when it occurred to him that Max always handed him a glass. Grumbling at his sudden need to please Max, Michael got out a glass and poured juice into it, replacing the carton in the fridge. He went and sat on the couch, deep in thought.

        Max turned off the water and opened the curtain to reach for a towel. There wasn't one, Michael had not replaced the one he had worn earlier. He rolled his eyes.

        "Hey, Michael, could I get a towel, please?" he called, startling Michael out of his thoughts.

        "Yeah, sure. Hold on a sec," Michael replied, getting a towel from the closet and bringing it to Max. He took it and noticed the juice in Michael's other hand.

        "When did you start using a glass, Michael?" he asked, amused. He started towel-drying his hair. Michael watched him, mesmerized by the play of light on his wet skin. When there was no answer to his question, Max stopped rubbing his hair and pulled the towel around his shoulders.

        "Michael? You OK?" he asked. Michael forced his gaze up to Max's eyes.

        "Yeah. I'm—I'm fine. I just—Max, you're...beautiful," he blurted out. Max looked down self-consciously, his cheeks reddening.

        "Thank you. You're not so bad yourself," he teased gently. He noticed that Michael looked a little uncomfortable. "Come here." Hesitantly, Michael stepped into his embrace.

        "It's OK, Michael. There's no need to feel guilty," Max murmured soothingly, stroking Michael's back. He relaxed against Max's shoulder. "Look, Michael, when do you work tomorrow?"

        "Um, close. How about you?"

        "Also close. So, why don't we just go to sleep and we can talk in the morning, all right?" Max pulled his head back to look at Michael, searching his eyes. Michael nodded, smiling a little. Max smiled back and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

        "Max, do you...do you want to come sleep with me?" he offered. Max chuckled and cupped Michael's face.

        "I have it on good authority that I'm clingy and I crowd when sharing a bed, and it's way too hot for that tonight. The couch is fine, but thank you. Can I have a swig of your OJ?"

        Michael handed him the glass and Max took a large swallow before giving it back, nodding his thanks.

        "In the morning then," Michael stated. Max smiled.

        "Yeah, in the morning. Night, Michael."

        "Night, Max." Michael placed his empty glass in the kitchen sink, then flicked the light off and went back to bed. Max finished drying himself off and followed suit, stretching out on the couch. Both had so many thoughts and feelings swirling around inside their heads that they were exhausted. It did not take long for each to fall asleep.

Continue to Part Two

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