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Hiedra, Part One

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list March 10, 2001

Title: Hiedra 1/?
Author: Scynneh
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would be some notable differences; namely the lack of clothes for Michael and Rath. But since the guys are still wearing those damned garments, it's safe to assume that I own nothing.
Feedback: Yeah, do I look like I'm kidding?
Dedications: Here's to everyone who began that discussion about 'going down'. That's where my mind promptly went. *eg*. Someone else has probably answered this already, I just had to get it out. Men are bad right now. So take this!

Author's Notes: Ah, no real spoilers, I just decided that since the sequel to Extasis is in the works, I might as well respond to Melissa's challenge. 'Hiedra' is Spanish for 'Ivy.'

Melissa's "Sweet Torture" Challenge!

1) Lifesaver fic! (meaning Tess/Maria)
2) Tess and Maria must decide to get even with their boy toys (Michael and Kyle) for not giving them any getting some loving with each other. ;)
3) At least part of the action must take place in a public venue (a mall, a restaurant, etc...)
4) Kyle and Michael must be witnesses to the events.
5) At least one person must use the phrase, "Oh my fucking love god." (*giggle*)
6) Spurs action (Michael/Kyle) optional, but longed for!
7) MUST be NC-17!

        Aliens have propane in their sweat and silver on their fingertips. They slit the laws of the universe down the seam, rip out whatever offends, stuff the remainder carelessly. And they're great kissers. That's something that all those science fiction movies neglected to mention.

        They got a few things right; the tendency of the extraterrestrials to screw things up in the worst way. Maria didn't know what her observations had to do with the ranting that had overtaken me; all of her words were from an individual who has been witness to possibly the most unexplainable period of 'teen angst and discovery' ever in the long history of conspiracies kept from parents and most of the world. This topped them all.

        Maria liked to think of humans as Mother Nature's cud. Masticated for untold millennia, carefully regurgitated until their form was a thing that could move about without direction; far be it for Her to ensure that such travesties as 'fire' and violence would never occur to Her children. Maybe Her boyfriend was a lay-about too, and she got to involved in getting him off his celestial couch that she couldn't find the time to manage both projects at once.

        It's like when a mother is baking a pie- she can leave it on the windowsill to cool because both parties know what's expected, and the spouse is making a concentrated effort at burning down the garage. Granted, the force that gifts all with sentience and call 'life' was not particularly disposed towards taking the extra time out to refining all elements of the 'grand experience' so that all concerned would find it something approximately pleasant, but there is a design at work.

        The Creator, whatever She calls herself, has a blueprint of the way that things are going to proceed, and one should pay no mind to the fact that said plan is as skewed as a painting as Salvador Dali- there is sense, even if it is in the meaning of senselessness.

        No fairness is doled out like cool ice creams to whining tots, be they clad in jeans or Armani. Being a member of the lower class means that one can anticipate being made into a meal for either the aristocracy or a monster birthed out of the system's corruption.

        So the squished and battered find their meaning and worth in the 'social cement' that is religion, pushing everything that puts their very insignificance into the background. Therefore, it is slightly blasphemous if one is a believer to see the photo of the Milky Way with the arrow pointing off in the corner, saying 'You are here.' And to hear Carl Sagan talk about 'billions and billons', as he so often did, it may bring a few to question what entails rules, and who is responsible for setting and maintaining them.

        Maria's case was not abnormal; she thought that aliens were cute little green men that had a lack in the department of females, and traveled the galaxy in their flying saucers, trying to make up for their impotence by making humans their experiments. Nope, wrong there, she didn't actually believe that they were real, but after a number of years during which her livelihood depended on the market for inflatable Martians, her pragmatism and the real world reached a truce of sorts. Then, that damn foursome blew everything to the wind.

        The anger she felt could be likened to that resulting from a variety of plague. And plagues accelerate the fear of evil. One of the chief things seen in such situations is guilt at failing a higher authority. The pious are stricken with remorse that they have not ensured their concept of 'safety' on the rest of the 'unconscious' population, while the rest of their number are happier to forget what has happened and move onwards into more enjoyable times. She lost all the faith that she had managed to hide away the moment she came to know the beings' characters, and their past deeds that made what was meant to be all the more improbable, and the future an uncertainty she both wanted and feared.


        There is a point where the idiocy of the male gender cannot be tolerated. Maria Deluca had passed that marker and moved almost at once to thoughts of homicide. She had been eager to spend time with Michael; especially after recent events had brought them closer. But now, he had drawn away for unknown reasons. No, that was too mysterious, he and Max were on some sort of bonding kick, and where there had been frustration and dislike, there was now a friendship only growing exponentially closer. It was sweet, beautiful, and enough to make Maria want to vomit.

        So, seeing as she couldn't do any of the things she wanted to do to Michael for not paying any attention to her of late, therefore canceling all plans for other amusements she'd thought about pursuing, Maria decided that getting out of her current funk was a good idea. Any more dark thoughts, and she'd pry those two apart with a baseball bat, then take Michael to his apartment and explain to him where he should be focusing his talents.

        The Crashdown was crowded with couples who had eyes for nothing for each other, and hotel rooms for the consummation of their words and glances, and Maria didn't want to see anyone who was as happy as she felt she should be. She knew of one other person who was probably feeling as depressed as she was- Liz. So, an evening with her best friend should cheer her up.

        But call to the Parker residence confirmed what the little voice behind her ear was hinting at: Family time had been scheduled, and Liz was being forced to suffer through an old movie marathon with her folks.

        Loneliness was a vicious companion, and jealous of inroads on Her territory, so Maria resolved to simply spend the night listening to Alanis and planning punishments for Michael that she'd enjoy and that would leave him in a puddle of frustration. It was only fitting; he had roused her from a very nice dream to inform her of the change in their plans, and now she had nothing, and no one to take the edge off.


        I.Hate.Humans, Tess thought, shoving an overly amorous football player off his date as she wove around the couples currently attempting to get cited for PDA's, or demonstrations of intercourse- in the center of the Crashdown. As if it wasn't bad enough that she was all alone on this dingy little rock of a planet, her only real connection to home was off playing 'caring guy with his best friend'. What that meant was watching whatever stupid and violent sports program was on television, with Valenti most likely, and behaving quite badly.

        Finally making it to the exit, where hormones weren't so overwhelming, Tess breathed a sigh of relief. Now, to find a place isolated from all this 'closeness' so that she could feel sorry for herself for a while before going back to the Valenti's and yanking one of those guys out of the huddle. There was no need for 'testosterone enhancement', they had just the right amount, and they weren't putting it to good use, dammit!

        Tess was about to throw something- a car maybe, she wanted to test her alien powers, why not go the limit, when she saw another female out bemoaning the faults of men. Maria.

        Well, why not commiserate with another scorned female, Tess thought, and ran across the street to the other blond's side.

        "Tess? What're you doing here? I thought you had a not-date thing with Max.." Maria took in the set of those pink lips and winced. Max was going to be in serious trouble when he surfaced from his dive into 'male bonding'. Maria grinned to herself. Maybe she and Tess could conspire to get their men in the worst way bore contemplation.

        "Men are pigs," Tess announced, and sent such a look of feminine fury in the direction of the amorous couples inside the Crashdown that Maria had to admire her blatant contempt. Politeness had been thrown out, leaving someone whose needs were unfulfilled, and who didn't care that others saw what she craved. It was actually rather attractive, and Maria wet her lips, abruptly feeling the resurgence of her own desire.

        Tess looked away from the restaurant in time to catch the tip of Maria's tongue moistening lips coated in a shade of lipstick that the alien had secretly dubbed 'fuck me now Red'. Looked like she wasn't alone in her state of denied release, and, considering the various methods she could go about relieving herself, Tess grinned, there was one way that was sure to make both of them feel ever so much better, and get back at their respective hubbies, and men as a whole.

        Today's society is obsessed with the 'National Enquirer' version of history. It can be called 'Richard Nixon Syndrome'. Prior to 1975, a different version prevailed; leaders were respected and men were in positions of power and influence where they were able to get whatever they wanted, little boys in rompers running all over having 'play time.' Good job Jack Kennedy, every boy over the age of eleven wanted Marilyn Monroe. People didn't need to read about it. But because we've got historical roadrage, events fester and then turn around without warning and gut the unsuspecting. None of this mattered to Tess, she wasn't concerned with what would happen her relationship with any of the men who had deemed it better to watch sports than spend their time with her, for once, and she could tell from the way that Maria's breathing sped up when she stretched up on her tiptoes, that the other girl wasn't thinking about the opposite sex either.

        So Tess cradled Maria's face in her hands and pulled her closer. When no resistance was forthcoming, she took that as an engraved invitation to go ahead, and put her mouth on those tempting lips. Tess knew how to kiss, she knew that, but Maria should have been an authorized instructor, some of the things she did with her tongue; where the hell had she learned how to do that? This was beginning to turn out better than she'd anticipated.

        Maria was getting as involved in the taste of Tess as with how she felt pressed against her, and when the other girl pulled her into even closer quarters, Maria ceased tangling her fingers in the poured sunbeams that were Tess' hair and slid down her back to the hem of her shirt, and delving under it. She found soft skin, and a heat that seemed to be common to aliens; whenever she and Michael had found the opportunities to get closer, he had nearly scorched her with the furnace that burned underneath his skin. Grumbling about how the damned boy could get to her even when he wasn't there, Maria shoved him out of her thoughts and decided that this thing between her and Tess was going to occur without Michael's mental interference. After all, he hadn't been interested in spending time with her, so she was going to make her own fun.

        The pair had completely forgotten that they were, for all intents and purposes, searching for each other's tonsil while standing in the middle of the street, where all of Roswell could watch them if they wanted to. And one bored citizen was doing just that.

        Kyle had left his father's presence when the older man had started to list the various traits of Amy Deluca that he found pleasing, and there was only a small interval during which Kyle was able to ignore the laughable attempts at poetry his father was prone to when slightly intoxicated and alone before he wanted to stuff his ears with cotton or get blindingly drunk himself. So he'd mumbled something about renting a movie, just to escape, and had been intent on wandering over the whole of the loser-filled town that had no good entertainment for a Buddhist, or anyone with a sense of fun, when he'd seen a couple apparently determined to ignore all restrictions and just go for it. And when he saw exactly who were knocking caution out and throwing it off a very tall bridge, he lost all motor skills and was left gaping at the odd sight.

        Tess and Maria. Maria and Tess. In the middle of town. Making out. No, that wasn't the right description. If that wasn't sex without penetration, he'd eat his hat. And since he wasn't wearing any sort of head decoration, Kyle was pretty damn sure that his conclusion was correct. And wow, looked like a male fantasy was going to be enacted right in front of him. Forget cinematic distractions, here was the best way to get his father's pining right out of his mind. Mmmm.


        Tess had sensed that someone was nearby, and a glance to the side revealed 'Buddha Boy' in a state of, shock, and yes, that was arousal. Yup, she'd know that uncomfortable yet incredibly pleased expression even if it had been on the face of someone she detested. And she certainly did not find Kyle unattractive. Pig-headed, yes, on occasion a weird human who needed to loosen up, but not ugly. Hope, and now it looked like he was becoming their trophy male; 'see, you didn't see us important enough to pay us any mind, so look at what you're missing.' Perfect. Maybe he'd stick around long enough to be worked up. Then she could take him home and explain what he should do in such circumstances in the future.

        That decided, Tess grabbed Maria, and whispered, "Want to give him a little lesson?" The taller girl didn't respond verbally, just took a look at who their audience was, giggled in a throaty way that made Tess want to haul her off without consent, and forget the male entranced by their interactions. But Maria nodded, and took control of the kiss in a way that left no doubts as to her willingness to make their point very clear.

Continue to Part Two

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