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Reply to Aelita or visit her websitePosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list October 20, 2001
Title: Working Hard
Rating: It's a slash PWP. What do you think? NC-17
Summary: Boys in uniform. I knew that'd get your attention. *g*
Disclaimer: I only own copies. The originals belong to someone else.
Spoilers: Very minor to Michael, the Guys and the Greater Use for Snapple Bottles (Yeah, I know that wasn't the real title *g* but come on, after all those conversations...)
Distribution: To whoever wants it, but I'd appreciate a warning. Also, www.KingdomOfTula.com of course.
Dedication: To those who send me feedback on "Love Child". Thank you all. And to the wild bunch from RoswellBDSM because they are definitely the inspiration for this.
Lick it hard, lap it up,
Do it now baby, touch it, touch it
Lick your lips and flash your paws
Shuck me Suck me eat me raw
Oooh, Harder faster
Yeah, that's what I need cause
Now that's what I'm after
Come do that wicked deed Aha
Slippin' slidin' strokin' the devil's hand of sin
Screamin wild and smokin' the ecstacy begins
W.A.S.P., "Harder, Faster"
Kyle tagged his clip-on tie uncomfortably as he followed Michael through the doors into the Meta-Chem complex. He could've said that he hated those damn uniforms but every time he glanced at his companion he knew he'd be lying. When did he develop a fetish for men in uniforms? Or was it just because it was Michael and that bastard looked hot in anything, including the dirty CrashDown apron? Especially in nothing BUT the apron. That picture stopped him in his tracks.
"You coming?" Michael sounded slightly irritated and Kyle rolled his eyes. He found it hard to believe that Michael would be in a hurry to get to 'the most boring job on this damn planet'.
"Yeah. Listen, um...." Michael didn't stop but turned to look at him, his eyebrow raised questionably. "Thanks for helping me get this gig. With dad out of work...and this place pays like twice what I was getting at the shop."
"No problem, man. I know what that's like. Anyway, the management was so impressed with my detective abilities, they would've let me hire anyone."
Kyle smirked at the nonchalant statement.
"Let you hire?"
"They kinda appointed me as shift manager, since they couldn't find a decent replacement for Karl and Steve transferred to a day shift." Michael shrugged casually, but Kyle could almost feel the waves of happiness rolling off the taller boy and couldn't resist harassing him.
"You? A manager? So, what are you telling me, that this place is ran by morons?"
Michael scoffed but then turned to glare at him.
"You know, you shouldn't talk to your boss like that." He leaned closer and whispered into his ear. "Might cost your ass." Kyle gulped as Michael's warm breathed caressed the sensitive skin under his ear. His mind was suddenly filled with images of how his ass could pay and in none of them he was complaining. He tried to hide his reaction by standing at attention and shouting mockingly.
"Sir, yes, sir. It'll never happen again, sir." Joke evaporated from his voice when instead of smiling, Michael stared at him with a strange gleam in his eyes. For a brief second Kyle could've sworn that he'd seen desire but Michael turned away quickly and walked through another set of doors.
Kyle shook his head and whispered soft, 'nah', before following.
The room he entered was a typical Security post. One wall was covered with screens showing different corridors and rooms, another had a panel with switches and lights. A round control station, with five chairs and a desk in the middle, filled most of the floor space. A man in his early twenties occupied one of those chairs. He nodded to Kyle before turning back to his conversation with Michael.
"So Monk and George both called in sick. And I hate doing this to you, chiko, but you know I wouldn't even ask unless it was an emergency."
Kyle noticed with surprise that even though the guy's manners were rather friendly than business-like, there was real respect shining through when he addressed Michael. Michael though, seemed completely oblivious to it as he threw himself into the chair.
"You ain't playin' me, are you, Fly?"
Fly raised his hands.
"Yo, man, you know I wouldn't do that to you. Not when the other guys aren't here. I'm being totally straight with ya."
Michael threw a puzzling glance at Kyle before turning his attention back to the other man.
"Get your sorry ass out of here, man. But you owe me."
Fly rushed out of the room before Michael even finished the sentence. Michael looked at Kyle with a smirk and ripped off his tie and cap.
"It looks like it's just you and me, Valenti. You play poker?"
Kyle followed his example, sighing with relief as the annoying articles of clothing fell on the panel and rolled one of the chairs next to the table.
"I prefer Black Jack."
Two hours later, Kyle was dead tired but he was richer intellectually for he grasped three incredibly important things. First, it wasn't that hard to be a security guard. All you had to do was check the screens and motion sensors every few minutes, and he learned to do that very quickly, without even interrupting his game. Second, he should've never played cards with an alien, even when the above- mentioned alien swore that he wasn't cheating. And thirdly, this same alien looked absolutely gorgeous when he was laughing. Yeah, there was no argument in Kyle's mind that Michael always looked hot as hell, but he'd watched Mr. Moody glare, scowl and even smirk plenty of times. He'd never seen him laid-back and laughing before and he had to admit, he loved it. He loved the sound of his laugh-masculine, unobtrusively quiet yet incredibly contagious. He loved the fact that his stupid jokes were the reason for Michael's laugh. Hell, he didn't even mind much that he was turning into a mushy romantic.
Kyle realized as well that for the first time in months, he was also relaxed and having a good time. He almost forgot what it was like to be one of the guys. His so-called-friends from school lately seemed boring and immature. He still felt uncomfortable around Evans Jr. That left Michael, who was unapproachable for completely different reasons. Kyle was man enough to admit that up until yesterday, he was afraid to make real contact with the broody alien. Not because he was afraid of him, quite the opposite-he was drawn to Michael. Drawn too strongly, too passionately and that scared the crap out of him. After spending half the night chatting and playing cards, the pull hadn't lessened but he wasn't as afraid of slipping anymore.
However, all the happy enlightenments couldn't change the fact that it was almost four in the morning and his unaccustomed to being up so late body was exhausted. Kyle threw the cards on the desk and yawned.
"I'm done." He glanced around the small room. "So what else do you do here for fun?"
"This is pretty much it. Sometimes we watch a game or something but there's nothing on tonight." Michael shrugged as he put away the cards. "Told you the job sucked."
Kyle moaned as he stretched, his stiff muscles screaming in protest.
"Damn. We have over two hours to go. Sure there is nothing decent on TV?"
Michael got up and leaned over the control panel, his fingers dancing on the keyboard. Kyle had to bite down the urge to curse at the view presented before him. Damn, those uniform pants were tight. Especially if he'd lean a little more... oh, yeah. He almost missed when Michael spoke, amusement coloring his voice.
"Somehow, I don't think we'll find something that would interest you."
"Oh, you definitely have something that interests me." He almost chocked when he realized that he said it out loud and bit his lip, suddenly afraid to even breathe. He knew that he was still staring at Michael's ass and things would be so much worse if Michael turned and saw but he couldn't help it, couldn't force his gaze away. When Michael made no response that showed whether he heard the statement, Kyle sighed with relief.
Relief that turned into panic as soon as Michael spoke again.
"Stop staring at my ass, Valenti. Or I'll use my alien powers on you." With that he turned around and Kyle was shocked to see no anger in his expressive eyes. As a matter of fact, he was smirking and Kyle figured to go with the flow and turn everything into a joke, trying to ignore the way his voice shook slightly.
"Yeah, my day isn't complete unless my life is threatened by aliens."
Michael moved closer and placed his hands on the arms of Kyle's chair, pushing it, as he stepped forward, until it hit the desk behind it. He leaned, his face mere inches away from Kyle's, and whispered.
"It wasn't your life I was threatening, Valenti."
He let go of the chair and cupped Kyle's face with his long fingers. It was such simple yet intimate touch that Kyle found himself unable to stir, to resist. Not that he truly wanted to. His eyes closed, relishing the warmth that rushed from his face down his body. Michael's lips touched his and that warmth turned into liquid fire, burning all the caution and fear in its way.
The kiss deepened, sanity forgotten the moment tongues met in a gentle battle. Kyle's hands found their way to Michael's neck, wrapping in long silky hair, holding him tighter, closer. The small room filled with short breaths, intrusive, unwanted because each breath meant they had to separate from the each other. Michael landed on his knees, hands falling on Kyle's shoulders, fingers digging into flesh though two layers of fabric. A soft curse and Kyle's shirt found new home on the floor. Kyle felt warm, wet lips tracing down his neck to his collarbone, tongue lapping at skin. Low moan escaped. He didn't realize it was his until another followed and his throat stung.
Hand covered his mouth. Michael's voice harsh with desire, as he whispered against his throat between the greedy kisses.
"Shhhh...there are... other... people... in the building..."
Statement tried to sink in, floating at the edge of his mind but he refused to let it, concentrating on the touches of Michael's lips... tongue... hands. Kyle sucked in a sharp, almost painful gulp of air when teeth tightened around skin in a sweet torturous bite.
That certainly came out too loud. Kyle finally remembered that they were in a public place, a huge corporation that worked 24 hours, and someone, anyone, could enter at any moment. Knowing that he couldn't trust himself to keep quiet, Kyle tried to pull away.
"Michael... st...sto...oh, shit." That wasn't it. That wasn't what he was trying to say. But Michael's hands snaked under his t-shirt, massaging the stiff muscles of his back, and his last brain cell stopped working. At the other man's gentle nudging, he raised his arms. The fact that his t-shirt was gone, leaving him naked from the waist up, not as important as the sensation of lips and teeth sucking bruises over his neck, chest, stomach.
Familiar sounds penetrated his hazy mind-belt unbuckled, pants unzipped-and he twitched, remembering suddenly why they couldn't, shouldn't, do this here.
"Michael. We can't..."
He groaned at the loss of contact as Michael shifted away from him and fought the urge to grab him and pull him back, until skin burned against skin, lips crashed against lips. He looked up. Michael was smiling, viciously, wildly, and he shivered. Michael guided his hands behind the back of the chair and he obeyed automatically, not asking why, lost in the scorching with desire eyes in front of him. Not caring why, until he felt the cool metal against his wrists, heard the soft click of cuffs locking and by then it was too late.
"Wha..." question stuck in his throat the second Michael's lips returned to his chest.
"You'll tell them I'd abducted you."
"Bastard." Shouldn't this sound angry, not so fucking needy? Michael's tongue slid up to Kyle's neck and he whispered, chuckling as Kyle shivered when breath brushed against feverish skin.
"I think I liked it better when you called me 'sir'."
"Fuck." Kyle's voice shook, and he swore again because he knew they should stop, knew that they wouldn't and was cursing at himself for being so fucking happy that they wouldn't. One word and Michael would halt, handcuffs would go back to wherever they came from, his clothes would return.
"Holy," strained gasp, "shit..." Wrong words. Again. What the hell was wrong with his mouth? All it would take was one simple little word. Hand snaked inside his boxers, fingers wrapping around his hard cock, and he thrust up, ignoring strain in his arms, everything but the overpowering desire lost. Pants, boxers slid down his leg, stopping mid-calf, restricting his movements ever farther but he was beyond giving a damn. His body was no longer under his control, shaking, pleading for one more touch, one more jerk of the hand. Except, one more was not enough. Another... he groaned because with each stroke, with each kiss, the hunger grew, scalding him from inside out. He wanted more, he needed more and he thought this urge would burn him into the ashes if he wouldn't get more right this damn moment...
"FUUUUCK!!!" Mouth. Hot...no, scorching mouth sucking his throbbing, splitting cock. Lips, moving up and down his shaft; tongue probing, teasing, licking... and all of a sudden it was too much. Too overwhelming. And still not enough. He felt a scream building low in his gut and bit his lips, till they bled; not because he cared that someone might hear but rather because he wanted to pretend that he still had some semblance of control. Muscles strained, his arched body as taut as a string on a well-adjusted guitar-feet digging into the floor, his back pressing into the chair, shoulders protesting as he mindlessly fought against the restraints. He'd have bruises the next day-around his wrists, where metal ripped into his skin; on his thighs, where Michael's fingers were marking him; on his arms, where edge of the desk jabbed into the flesh. He could feel it all-pain, pleasure, hunger-and they were just too goddamned much. He couldn't take it anymore, he needed this to stop because it felt too good, too fucking good and feeling like this shouldn't be fucking possible. Fingers pressed at the sensitive spot behind his balls, teeth squeezed around the base of his cock and he lost the battle he didn't know he was fighting. He erupted, hot and violent and convulsing, right into Michael's greedy mouth, his own lips open in a silent scream, and it felt even better. Not just better, if felt out of this world fuckintastic.
His body shuddered one last time and he fell back on the chair, panting, drained, too weak to even keep his eyes open.
Through the haze Kyle felt the handcuffs loosen and disappear. He tried to flex his muscles and groaned because they were sore and it hurt. Michael rubbed his shoulders and arms gently, warm familiar tingling following each touch and soothing the pain. He brought Kyle's wrists to his mouth and covered them with soft kisses and Kyle knew that at least he wouldn't have bruises there. His senses started coming back to him and he remembered that he was sitting naked in a public area. He tried to stir but all he got out of his wasted body was a light twitch. And even his frustrated groan came out quiet and listless. Somehow, Michael must've read his mind, because suddenly he wasn't naked anymore. He pried one of his eyes open and saw that indeed he was dressed back into his uniform, and even though he knew that Michael used his powers on him and he should get mad, he couldn't.
He opened his mouth to say something but before one sound escaped he already forgot what he wanted to say. Michael's mouth was covering his in gentle but passionate kiss and that seemed to affect not only his memory but his judgment as well. As the kiss build and deepened, his energy started to return. He felt nudges of guilt because Michael did all the work and he got all the satisfaction. He wrenched away, already out of breath, and caressed Michael's cheek with his fingers.
"I want to..."
Michael stared at him for a moment, and then his lips twisted in a smile, enigmatic, slightly dangerous and sexy as hell.
"Later." And Michael kissed him again. But this time it was different, it was as if he dropped his self-control for this moment. There was so much lust, ferocity and primal urge in that kiss that Kyle moaned. Suddenly he wanted to throw Michael to the floor and taste him. He wanted to kiss him and bite him and suck him until Michael was the one to lose control and was cursing into the air. Only the silent promise in that kiss that he'll get his chance for this and so much more gave him strength not to.
This time it was Michael who pulled away from the kiss, and as Kyle stared into the dark fire of his eyes, he realized something. Even if the handcuffs were gone, he will never be free again. And for some reason, it didn't scare him.
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