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Love Child

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list July 27, 2001

Title: Love Child
Author: Aelita
Distribution: my kingdom, RSA, anyone else--ask, I never say no.
Category: Slash (Mi/K)
Rating: It's PWP, what do you think? NC-17.
AN: Some of you might remember me posting this song a while ago. It's called "Love Child" and sang by a man. It's been bugging me and I finally dared. This is my first slash fic. Be gentle. It's unbetaed and somewhat confusing but what else is new? Yeah, the language is rough and there are mistakes but some of them are actually intended. It's POV, we don't think perfectly.
Disclamer: Yeah, right. When you see this happening on the show, we'll talk ownership, mmkay?

        Some people are born leaders.

        Some are blessed with an IQ higher than the freaking Kilimanjaro.

        Some are talented as hell.

        And every now and then, a Love Child is created. Who the hell is the Love Child? Very simple. It's someone so beautiful that one look and you know that only true love could've created something this perfect.

        Oh, and they are unbelievably fucking sexy.

        I know. I've had the pleasure of meeting one.


Everyone is telling that he was born as a love child
By looking in his eyes something turned me lose in this hot night
Feeling the power of lust when the guy's passing by
Wrecking one's brain and I'm going insane don't know why
I can feel your sex winding up a girl in the red dress
And my brain is gone, what is going on, I'm burning inside
I gotta tell myself that he was born as a love child
And the story of his way should not make me stay in this hot night

Don't know what I am a woman or a man
Many troubles behind me I'm doing all I can
But I'm what I am leave me alone - don't mistreat me
Feeling the power of lust when the guy's passing by
Wrecking one's brain and I'm going insane don't know why
A love child, running wild

        "Love Child," Accept.


        Well, goddamn. If it ain't my lucky day.

        It wasn't bad enough that I got stuck with the most irritating Martian on this damn planet to do this assignment. I don't know why he particularly annoys the hell out of me. I know why I hate Senior Presidente. No big revelations there. Stole my girl, put my father in danger, got me shot... blah blah blah. Isabel is okay. Kinda moody but aren't they all? I do mean both, aliens and girls. Tess... I ain't going there. But Guerin... what the hell is so annoying about him? Besides the obvious arrogance, lack of manners and a mouth that just begs to be... no way, Valenti. You aren't going there.

        At least I was hoping that we'd be on the level academically. I mean, come on, Guerin? The guy slept through most of his classes. I didn't think he'd know Shakespeare from Copperfield. First sign of trouble? When I grumbled that to him and he calmly replied that the latter was a character in one of Dickens' books and followed it by a brief explanation of how Dickens represented himself in the novel by using Copperfield as an alias or some shit like that.

        I decided not to clear the fact that I meant Copperfield the magician, mumbling something stupid about being glad that I won't have to teach him to read. I think he figured it out though. Or maybe his glares are always this scornful. Royal blood or some shit like that.

        Of course, lucky me, he not only read Hamlet and understood it probably better than William himself, but used every opportunity of shoving it in my face.

        Yay me, the punching bag for a guy with G.P.A. of... what is his G.P.A.?

        This is turning out to be a very long day.


        I groan and fall on my back. The thin carpet doesn't do much for comfort but it's still better than his couch. We tried that when we first walked in. I didn't know couches had that many strings.

        "Damn, Guerin. How the hell do you understand this shit? It's not even English."

        I don't need to see him to know that he is glaring at me from across the papers sprawled on the floor between us. I don't know how I know and that scares the shit out of me.

        "Watch it. I don't approve of foul language in the presence of Shakespeare." Amusement colors the voice of the aforementioned alien. I throw the book at him without sparing a glance and he scoffs. "Nice aim. How the hell did you make the basketball team? Sexual favors?"

        "Bite my ass, Guerin."

        He scoffs and, as I look up at him, an invisible hand squeezes my chest. That damn smug grin. I wanna wipe it off. With my fists. But suicide wish? That I don't have. I'm not a coward but I'm not insane either. I've seen what he can do. I remember well when Maria's Jetta got stuck in the sand. He picked it up with his alien mojo and the damn car floated toward the road. FLOATED. I don't even wanna be in the room when this guy is pissed.

        "Is that a yes or an invitation?"

        "Fuck you."

        His grin widens at my exasperation, and the thought that guys shouldn't have kissable lips like that pops into my mind. Shit. I'm staring at his mouth. I turn away hastily and see a bunch of magazines under the couch. There is only one reason why a guy who lives alone would hide the magazines under anything. So that his girlfriend wouldn't find them. Bingo, Guerin. Your ass is mine. Figuratively speaking.

        I grab the top magazine and with a triumphant smile roll on my stomach.

        "Well, well, well. There is something human in that hybrid ass of yours. Let's see what we ha..." the sentence dies on my lips as the first picture absorbs into my mind. Holy... I gulp and my breathing shallows. No way.

        Two people. Wrapped in ridiculous strips of leather that emphasize more than they hide. They look like they are rubbing their dicks against each other. Both of them. Toto, I don't think this is Biker Babes. Biker Twinkies--maybe.

        And right this moment I hate the fact that I blush easily.

        "What's wrong, Valenti? Never seen boy on boy action?" Guerin's voice is lower, huskier and suddenly very close. Too close. I try as hard as I can to keep my gaze on the magazine but my eyes just refuse to listen. He's crouching right in front of me and when I look, my eyes are on the level with his... knees. Yep, that's where I'm looking. His knees. And what a large...knee he has... I gaze up rashly. There it is-the infamous grin. I still wanna wipe it off. Except I allow tiny amount of truth to escape this time and admit that I'd like to use other parts of my body.

        But just because I don't wanna lie to myself, doesn't mean I have to confess it to him. Right? I try to speak, to tell him that he's a sick bastard, but my mouth is just as obedient as my eyes and I can't make a sound. I try to ignore him but he's too close. I can feel his bodyheat warming the air around me and I shiver. I want to move away... no, I don't want to but I need to. Before I do something stupid. He's playing with me. I know he is. I've seen him with Maria-no way in hell he... I won't let him win. I force myself to stand up slowly and pick up my soda. My mouth is too dry. One sip and then I'll tell him exactly where he can shove all his...

        "I can feel it, Kyle."

        My hand freezes halfway to my mouth. What?

        He gets up gracefully, like a, a lion. The expression on his face is pure unadulterated hunger. He advances me fluently, almost lazily but I bet each move is carefully calculated. I gulp because if he is the lion... Hello, this is the antelope speaking, please don't hurt me when you eat me. Much. He is standing so close we're literally breathing the same air. Our eyes are locked in a staring contest and I can't look away to save my life. Because whatever self-control I have is working on keeping me from reaching and touching him. With my lips.

        I finally regain control of my voice, but it sounds shaky and scared even to me.

        "You can feel what?"

        He leans a little closer, and I have to close my eyes. I have to or I'll... Oh, fucking great. My heart is pounding in my chest and I'm suddenly scared that he can hear it. Can you be afraid of something and want it at the same time? Dumb question.

        His lips brush my ear as he whispers, "Your lust."

        Oh, shit. I had to ask, didn't I? What do you say to something like that? Deny? Yeah, that'll work. I can't feel him in front of me anymore yet I'm afraid to look. Oh, shit. Gotta say something...

        "Bullshit." I think I hear the sound of a hand meeting rough fabric before the burning sensation of the sharp spank sinks into my brain. I stumble a little forward, mostly from surprise, and can't bite down the gasp.

        "What did I say about language?"

        My eyes fly open but he's gone. He just... he didn't. He did. I rub my slightly stinging ass and have no freaking idea what to do next. I know what I want. I want him. I want to inhale him, drink him, suck him and I want him to do the same to me. I want to grab him, drag him on top of me and have him fuck me until we both beg for mercy. But that would break all the rules. Am I ready for what comes after? Will it be just a fuck? Will we pretend it never happened the next day? Or better yet, what do I want it to be?

        I hear the water splash against the sink and turn in the direction of the sound.

        I'm not stupid. I realize that this is the defining moment. He didn't leave the room for the heck of it. He showed me the signs, quite bluntly, and now he is giving me a chance to run and never look back. I can go back to pretending that I, Kyle Valenti, All American Jock Boy, make that All American Human Jock Boy, don't want to have my brains fucked out by Michael Guerin, A Royal Pain in the Ass from Outer Space.

        What a boy to do?

        Speaking of great ass...

        He left the door to the bathroom wide open and I catch a glimpse of his back. His naked back. Bastard.

        T-shirt flies out of the bathroom and hits me in the face. Ok, that's it. No more Mr. Nice Kyle. I don't give a flying fuck if he can bench semis with his powers. He wants to play? Fine. I'll be happy to oblige. I'm standing in the doorframe before his t-shirt falls on the floor. I should probably move farther in but as soon as he comes into the view my body freezes. Hell, I can barely breathe. He just doesn't play fair.

        I can only guess what he did before I walked in. His upper body is glistening with tiny drops of water and I watch mesmerized as one of them runs down his back and disappears into the waistband of his jeans. My skin is heating up and I'm probably crimson by now but don't care. He meets my gaze steadily in the mirror and brings his cupped hand filled with water to his mouth. He drinks some of it, but most just rushes down his arm. He chuckles softly and lowers the hand back under the running water. Once it fills up, he turns around, leans on the sink and offers it to me.

        "Want some?"

        I don't know where this will lead to and I don't care anymore. Because the desire, the lust, is consuming the weak little me. I take a step forward and grab his wrist, pulling his hand toward my mouth. The water drips all over the tiles and my shirt. Before another wave of sanity stops me, I flicker my tongue over his skin, picking up the renegade drops all the way up to his elbow. I can detect the faint smell of cheap soap mixing with the salty masculine scent of sweat and I'm overtaken by the urge to suck his skin until I can taste the combination, until I am sure that it would stay with me forever.

        I pull away to take a breath and he pushes me roughly, until my back collides with the cold tiles with a loud thump. I groan but not from the pain. The guy moves faster than the goddamned lightning. His body is pressing mine into the wall, forceful, unforgiving. I struggle slightly, not really wanting to escape, and that ignites him further. He grasps my wrists and clasps them above my head as he kisses me ravenously. His mouth is crashing mine, forcing it to open under the assault. His teeth are digging into my lips, breaking the gentle skin and he brutally sucks off the tiny drops of blood as they appear. He isn't gentle, he isn't careful.

        He's hurting me and I'm loving every damn second of it.

        He pulls away, leaving both of us gasping for air. His eyes are dark, almost black with desire, his lips look just as swollen as mine feel. And I have to fight a disappointed moan because I already miss the feeling of his mouth bruising mine.

        He keeps my wrists pinned with one hand as he drops the other to caress my cheek. His touch is unexpectedly light, teasing, but the dangerous glint in his eyes contradicts it and the breath catches in my throat, my body tense with anticipation. I don't have to wait long. His fingers wrap around the top of my shirt and with a quick step back, he tears it apart, sending shreds on the floor. Before I can react, he is back full force and I gasp as his skin burns against mine. He is incredibly hot and I don't just mean metaphorically. His heat, his fire is sending shivers through my whole body, and the feeling is sensational to say the least.

        His mouth attacks my neck and I realize that I'm standing on my toes, giving him better access and not even trying to quiet down the moans that escape from my mouth. His free hand snakes in between us and roams over my chest, down to my stomach, leaving the trails of dancing flames with every touch. I struggle to get my hands out of his grip but he only tightens it, growling dangerously. But it's only when he drops his hand lower, inside my boxers-what the hell happened to my jeans?-that I freeze. I bite my lip as he starts stroking my already stiff cock, tantalizingly slow. I am literally afraid to breathe, not because I'm scared that he'd hurt me-I know he wouldn't, not like that-but rather because if he'd stop touching me now, I'd go insane. I'm already close.

        "Michael..." His name rolls of my lips, filled with desire and desperate plea. I don't say anything else but I know he heard all I was trying to say. He takes a step back, finally releasing my wrists, and stares at me for a few moments. His eyes are smoldering, scalding me almost as much as his touch and I think I can cum just from this gaze alone. No one had ever looked at me with such carnality before. My boxers are sliding down my legs without any help from me. I guess those alien powers do have some use cuz I'd love to have that one right now. But since I don't... I got hands, right? I reach for him and unzip his jeans, not really surprised at the lack of fabric underneath. He rips them off and pulls me away from the wall, before I can fulfill my urge to touch him. I follow him with my gaze as he slides in behind me but he shakes his hand and whispers to me to look up front. I obey and realize that I'm staring at our reflection in the mirror.


        It most certainly worth watching. I can only see us up to mid-thigh and even if I wish to see more, it's still unbelievably arousing. Michael isn't the only one looking hungry--the expression on my face rivals his. Our naked, shining with sweat and water bodies pressed tightly against each other, one of Michael's arms around my chest, another sliding down my flesh. I watch as he wraps his fingers around my cock and starts stroking me again, occasionally swiping his thumb over the head. I can feel his erection throbbing against my ass, demanding to be let in to explore and conquer. My body arches against his in the desperate craving for release, my eyes frantic with need. I don't know why I haven't cum yet but if I don't soon, I think I'll spontaneously combust.

        I feel him running his free hand down my abdomen and around. I detach myself just enough to let him slide it between us and gasp as his finger teases my opening. I think every nerve in my body is tingling with expectation. He hasn't stopped fisting me and I'm barely lucid enough to wonder what it's going to feel like; the question where the lube came from evaporates quickly. He doesn't break our eye contact as he finally glides the digit in. I groan-the feeling is strange but not unpleasant. I rock my ass slightly, testing, as his finger slides in and out with the movement. The second finger joins shortly, then the third and for a moment they appear too much-I feel uncomfortable, achingly full. I stiffen and he slows the tempo but doesn't stop. I don't realize that with every stroke he changes the direction a bit until with one thrust he brushes against something that triggers a rush of... indescribable pleasure to charge through my system. My entire body clenches and a groan rips of my lips.

        He slips his fingers out and pushes my shoulders so that I bend forward. I rest my hands on the sink, and watch Michael's image as he grabs my thighs tight enough to bruise. His eyes squeeze shut and his teeth are digging into his lower lip as he starts sinking into me. It hurts. It hurts like hell, but the expression of the utter ecstasy on his face is certainly worth the pain. He's moving slowly, I know he's trying to make it as painless as possible but I've never been one for patience. Fuck careful. Fuck gentle. I want more. I need more.

        I buck against him, forcefully, welcoming the sharp jab of pain instead of fighting it. It works- passion interlaces with pain, overpowering me-and I can't control my muscles from convulsing around his pulsating length. Two voices bounce of the walls blended in a harsh rapturous scream. We both pause, breathing harshly. His eyes are locked on mine again and there is enough lust in them to start a forest fire. He carefully moves a few times, until his cock glides against the right spot and I arch my back with a loud moan. The pain softens, transforms into a pleasurable burning. His lips curve in a small but damn sexy smile as he starts rocking into me deeply, gradually at first but picking up speed and force with every stroke and I feel the orgasm building quickly, in crushing irrepressible waves.

        Michael leans forward, his mouth pressing a kiss on my shoulder. He places one hand on top of mine, lacing our fingers together, and begins to pump my pulsing with need cock with the other. A shudder twists my body and I erupt in his fist, with an uncontrollably primal cry. Spasms are still rocking my body when I hear him groan my name as he empties himself inside of me, his cock twitching violently. My knees buckle, and the only reason I'm still standing is because of Michael supporting me. I have just enough time to wonder where the hell he got the stamina when his hands weaken and I gradually sink on the floor, taking Michael with me.

        He envelops me in his arms and we lie on the cold tiles, wet, sticky and too weak to move but not to hold onto each other. I finally gather enough strength to turn and face him. He opens his eyes and grins at me.

        I look at his face, and realize the true reason why his grin is so smug. He'd known this would happen from the very beginning. He'd known I wanted him, to fuck him, probably before I knew it myself and he'd loved it. And when he'd decided that he'd wanted it too... he'd gone after me. He hadn't hesitated, because the possibility that I might refuse, despite wanting him, hadn't scared him even for a split second.

        Fearless son of a bitch. Gotta love that in a guy.

        I grin back and he leans in for a startlingly tender but passionate nonetheless kiss.

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