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Firsts, Part Six

Reply to Tasyfa

Sent to the Roswell Slash Archive July 22, 2001


        "Michael! I, uh, I wasn't—expecting you," Max got out through his suddenly dry mouth. He controlled the urge to take him in his arms and make this all better.

        "I can see that," Michael responded, his voice as expressionless as his face. "I forgot my sketch pad here last night, I just wanted to pick it up."

        "Right. Right, of course. Um, where is it?" Max asked. His heart was pounding in his chest. Michael had known that Max and Liz were going to make love last night. What had he expected Max to look like? Moreover, why was he here at all? He could have gotten his sketchbook later.

        "It's in the living room. I'll get it," Michael brushed off Max's offer before he could even say it and went out of the kitchen. Max sagged against the counter a little, not noticing the speculative look on Alex's face. A couple of minutes later, Michael returned, book in hand.

        "Thanks. See ya," he said shortly, looking at Max. For a brief moment the wall went down and Max saw the hurt swimming in his eyes. Max's own gaze softened, but Michael snapped the wall back up and turned on his heel, leaving. Max heard the rev of the bike's engine and realized that he had not noticed the sound before, he'd been too wrapped up in thoughts of Liz. Well, and coffee, to be completely honest with himself. He sighed. The coffee was done now, so he poured some into the mug he had prepared for Isabel, plus two more for himself and Alex. He handed Alex one mug and waved at a cupboard beside the refrigerator.

        "Sugar's in there, cream's in the fridge if you want anything," Max said quietly. Alex noticed that the sparkle had gone out of him. Was that because Michael had seemed angry with him? There was definitely something else going on here. Alex thought that he would keep it to himself for now; no sense involving Liz until he was sure.

        "Thanks, Max. I'll see you later," Alex said as he doctored his coffee and picked up both mugs. Max nodded and watched Alex leave the room. He grabbed the glass of juice he had poured and gulped it down, then took his coffee and Liz's water and went back to his bedroom. He smiled as he put down the beverages; Liz was asleep, her hair fanned out across his pillow. How many times had he dreamed of that sight? For how many years? Max considered waking her, but instead he pulled his chair close to the bed and sat down. He watched the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes stood out against her cheek; the slight smile on her lips. God, she was beautiful. Max sipped at his coffee, his eyes never leaving the woman of his dreams as he contemplated what he could do to make this strange arrangement work, without anyone getting hurt again like Michael had been this morning.

        Later that night, after eating Chinese take-out with Isabel and his parents and hearing all about their weekend, Max drove over to Michael's. He had decided not to heal the scratches Liz had inflicted; not only had Michael already seen them, but he didn't want to erase all evidence of his night with Liz. It was too important to him. Michael would just have to learn to deal. Feeling apprehension swirl in the pit of his stomach, Max knocked on Michael's door.

        "Hey," Michael said, opening the door. His face was unreadable as he swung it wide, gesturing for Max to come in. Max stepped inside, closing the door. They stood there looking at each other for a long moment, then a slow smile spread over Michael's face.

        "I always figured she'd be a hellcat in bed," he drawled, loving the way Max's eyes lit up with relief. Max grinned; apparently Michael had come to terms with his and Liz's activities on his own.

        "Yeah, they say the quiet ones are the most passionate," Max joked. Michael raised his eyebrows, then raked his gaze up and down Max.

        "I can understand why," he teased, his smile widening at the faint blush that graced Max's cheeks at his implication that Max was another quiet, passionate person. Max shrugged and sat down on the couch. As expected, the television was turned to a sports channel for the hockey game.

        "So, Maxwell. Details, buddy. How was it?" Michael asked, plopping down next to him on the couch. Max looked at him, surprised.

        "What, you really want to know?" Max was a little hesitant. At Michael's emphatic nod, he shrugged. "It was...phenomenal. She feels like hot silk, only—tight. It's impossible to describe, really. And Liz is...remarkably, um, loud. I mean, she's always been vocal, but she was—totally uninhibited last night. It was quite a rush," he admitted.

        "Sounds awesome," Michael said, his mind picturing them together. It was an incredibly erotic portrait, with Liz's head thrown back and her lips parted to allow her cries to escape. He shifted on the couch, getting into a more comfortable position as his jeans became restrictive.

        "You know, Michael...I think I have you to thank in part for it being so incredible. Liz was on fire when she came back from your ride together. I've never seen her quite that worked up," he confessed.

        "Are you serious?" Michael inquired incredulously. At Max's nod, he grinned. "Whew, it's nice to know I wasn't the only one affected!"

        "What happened? I mean, I didn't ask Liz about it. Actually, I never got a chance to say much of anything. I'd fallen asleep while you guys were gone, and the next thing I knew my girlfriend was sitting on top of me naked and seriously aroused!"

        They both laughed, and Michael explained the events of his and Liz's bike ride, enjoying the way Max's eyes were growing rounder as he spoke.

        "I noticed when I got home that my jeans were wet where she was pressed up against me. I know I said I didn't want to do anything with her, but I didn't have any control over what she was doing! It was all I could do to keep driving," he finished the story. Max was shaking his head.

        "God, can you believe her? How the hell did I get so lucky? How did we get so lucky?" Max added, smiling. Michael snorted.

        "Some of us haven't gotten lucky yet. But hey, I can wait. Besides, I..." he trailed off, and Max gestured for him to continue. Michael shook his head, and Max let it drop.

        "Michael...why did you come over this morning? And come to think of it, why did you use the front door?" Max laughed. Michael smiled ruefully.

        "I really did come for my sketchbook. I couldn't find my spare one, and there was something bugging me to get it onto paper, so...I didn't expect to run into you, I guess. I knew what you'd been doing, and—I don't know, I guess I just didn't expect to be confronted with the evidence quite so soon. Which is why I didn't go to your window. Or Isabel's; I do NOT need to see her or Alex naked," he chuckled.

        "Oh, yeah. Liz and Isabel ran into each other naked in the hallway, and Iz is taking her shopping. That should prove interesting," Max laughed.

        "Now you're really making me want to see Liz naked, if Isabel thinks she's worth shopping for," Michael teased. They both grinned.

        "So, Maxwell. Still covered in scratches?" Michael inquired archly. Max reddened.

        "Yeah. I—kind of wanted to keep them till I had to get rid of them, you know?"

        "Yeah, I know. So...let's see 'em," Michael demanded. Max searched his face, making sure he was serious, then stood up and pulled off his T-shirt, turning so that his back was to Michael. He smirked at Michael's sudden intake of breath, then sucked in his own breath as Michael's fingertips began to trace the lines crisscrossing his flesh.

        Michael trailed his hands along Max's back, following the paths laid out by Liz's nails. Some of them were faint now, their healing sped by Max's hybrid body. A few were deep, their dark red color suggesting their depth. The deeper ones tended to be around the small of his back, and a number of them disappeared underneath Max's jeans.

        "She got your butt, too, huh?" Michael said huskily, his hands never ceasing their movements. In answer he heard Max pop open the buttons on his jeans, and bend slightly as he drew his jeans down past his hips to rest at mid-thigh. Michael followed the deeper scratches down onto Max's ass, smiling as he noticed ten small crescent-shaped marks where Liz must have dug into him. He fitted his hands to the marks, marveling at how small her hands were in comparison to his own. Gently Michael applied pressure, parting his cheeks.

        Max had closed his eyes as Michael's fingers explored him. The slight pressure against the raw skin mingled a little pain with the pleasure, which only excited him all the more. He shivered as Michael's breath gusted against him then jumped as his tongue licked the newly exposed skin. It was such an intimate gesture. Max's knees started to weaken as Michael licked between his cheeks, feeling exposed somehow in a way that he had not when Michael had sucked his cock. Max trembled as Michael continued licking, using his fingers as leverage to bare more skin.

        "Michael," he whispered hoarsely, "I—my knees are going to give out."

        Michael chuckled and drew back, letting Max turn around to face him. His eyes automatically went to Max's cock, jutting out practically at Michael's eye level. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Max, seeing the naked hunger in his eyes.

        Max kicked off his jeans and dropped to his knees, moving in between Michael's legs to kiss him. His tongue snaked into Michael's mouth and his hands slipped into his hair as if Max were trying to merge with him. Michael welcomed the onslaught, knowing that he had provoked this level of urgency in Max and feeling a surge of triumph at his response. Max moved ever closer until their torsos were pressed together, his hard cock pushing against Michael's groin. He thrust slightly, the motion rubbing their erections together, and both men groaned at the contact.

        Michael reached around Max and continued his intimate caressing. His hands slid against Max's ass, pulling him farther apart. He slipped his index finger along Max's sensitive skin, reveling in the throaty sounds Max was making. He felt like smooth satin almost everywhere, until Michael's fingers wandered farther down to a texture more like raw silk. He felt Max gasp into his mouth, and suddenly Michael was being dragged forward, falling on top of Max as he pulled them both onto the floor.

        "Michael," Max rasped against his lips, "I need you—now." He pulled Michael's hands out from underneath him, placing them on his rigid cock. Michael immediately started stroking him, knowing that Max was extremely close to the edge. He moved down Max's body and sucked on just the tip of Max's cock as his hands worked the shaft. Within minutes Max stiffened and came with a strangled cry, his hands scrabbling at the carpet in a vain attempt to hold onto something. Michael gulped quickly, finding it a little more difficult when gravity was against him. Max shuddered in release, then quieted. Michael moved up to lie beside him, smiling at the rueful look on Max's face.

        "Do not apologize; I like driving you nuts," Michael said firmly, watching Max smile.

        "OK, it's just...you're not even undressed, for chrissakes! And you were the one who spent the night alone, I should've...ah, forget it. You know what I mean," Max rolled his eyes at himself. Then his expression turned playful and he reached for the buttons on Michael's shirt, undoing them slowly. When his shirt was fully open, Max pulled Michael to his feet as he stood then pushed the shirt off. He knelt in front of Michael, undoing his pants and pulling them, and the rest of his clothes, off. Then Max stood back up and took Michael's hand, leading him into the bedroom.

        "Might be nice to make it to the bed for once," Michael joked. He was a little nervous; Max seemed very intense now: focussed. Max motioned for Michael to lie down, and he did, looking up at Max curiously.

        "Close your eyes, Michael. And keep them closed," Max instructed. Michael obeyed, feeling a shiver of excitement. What was Max up to?

        He got a partial answer as he suddenly felt Max's mouth on his nipple, rolling it against his tongue. Max drew back, blowing across his wet skin, watching Michael's nipple contract even further. Michael jumped as Max pinched him, having expected the warmth of his mouth again. Max smiled in satisfaction, and got down to business.

        Max placed Michael's arms over his head and spread his legs wide so that he had enough room to move between them without touching Michael. He knelt on the bed between Michael's spread legs, balancing himself so that he could reach any part of Michael's body without shifting enough to give away his destination. Michael felt unbelievably open, but he trusted Max completely. Besides, he also felt intensely excited by the teasing bites and licks, the caresses and the scratches. Max's hands and mouth were everywhere, but somehow never where Michael expected them to be. He didn't think there was anywhere that Max had not touched and turned to fire, until he felt Max simultaneously take his cock in his mouth and slide one lubricated finger inside him.

        Michael jerked in shock, an incoherent cry ripping from his throat as Max stroked him carefully in a heartbeat-like counterpoint with his sucking. He lost himself in the acute double pleasure, moving his arms down so that he could grip Max's hair. Max had built his arousal to such a fever pitch before going down on him that it wasn't long before Michael exploded into Max's mouth with another cry.

        Max drained him, then moved up to lie even with Michael. He searched Michael's face.

        "Was that OK? I know you weren't expecting it, but..." he stopped as Michael nodded fervently. Max half smiled and pulled Michael close for a kiss. They lay together quietly while Michael's breathing returned to normal, Michael pillowing his head on Max's chest.

        "Max? What I was going to say earlier? Um, I just—whatever ends up happening with us and Liz, I, uh, want...I...I want my first time to be with you," Michael murmured hesitantly. Max tightened his arms around Michael and kissed the top of his head.

        "I—I don't think I'm ready for that yet, Michael, but...I'd like that," he said sincerely. Michael lifted his head to look at Max.

        "I'm not either, I just—wanted to be clear about it," he said, moving farther up to kiss him. Their lips clung together tenderly for a moment before Michael snuggled back into Max's chest.

        "Have you figured out what to say to Liz yet?" he asked, tracing lazy circles on Max's biceps.

        "No. I haven't really had much time to think about it yet, I've either been working or with you or Liz. Or sleeping, though I did little enough of that this weekend," Max chuckled. "But...I do think that I won't say anything for another week or two. Our relationship kind of just changed from, you know, making love, and I'd like to settle into that a little bit before I spring another huge change on her."

        "Yeah, that makes sense. Can I still flirt with her?" Michael asked mischievously.

        "Flirt away, my friend! As long as I get detailed reports," he laughed. "Seriously, I do want to know if it's just regular flirting, or if it's on-the-line flirting like on your bike. And whether there's any indication that she's willing to take it further."

        "OK. I think I can manage that," Michael chuckled. Max sighed and stirred.

        "I better go; it's a school night. Otherwise Mom will call looking for me," he rolled his eyes as the phone rang. Michael grinned and went to pick it up.

        "Hi, Mrs. Evans. Yes, Max is still here, but he's just leaving. He'll be home in a few minutes. OK, I'll tell him. 'Bye," Michael hung up and turned to Max, who was pulling on his clothes.

        "She says to stop for milk," he laughed at Max's grimace. He picked up Max's shoes and handed them to him.

        "Thanks. I'll see you in school tomorrow," Max said, straightening after slipping on his shoes. He hugged Michael tightly, pressing a light kiss to his lips as he released him, then left. Michael closed the door and wandered back into his bedroom. He noticed a small tube on the floor, and bent to pick it up. "K-Y?" he thought to himself, then read the rest of the label. Michael was suddenly very glad that Max had left already as he realized what the tube contained and blushed a bright red. "Oh, lubricant." He put the little tube into the drawer of his bedside table and lay down on the bed, thinking about what it might be like to make love to Max.

Continue to Part Seven

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