I'd written this fic after ep 1x19. Thought I'd dive into Michael's hormones during his kiss with Sara. I unfortunately don't own Mike, or Sara, OR their kiss lol! Enjoy ;)
WARNING: Rated M for Sexual Situations!
The sting of the gauze was nothing compared to the sick feeling that was forming in Michael's gut as the Sara dabbed the blood from his back.
He knew what he was there to do. But knowing it and doing it were two completely different things, and the situation couldn't be more difficult.
Distracting her was a must. Kissing her was not.
Nevertheless, he found himself leaning forward as she turned, and everything he'd planned to do was forgotten when her lips met his.
He tried to pull back immediately-- his mind screamed at him to do so-- but the tug in his chest pushed him to intensify the kiss.
All he could focus on was her touch.
Her hands found his face, and heat seemed to pour into him.
Taking the key now, himself, was something he simply couldn't bring himself to do.
Everything suddenly seemed to slow down, and in a brief instant Michael's focus left the outside of the infirmary.
His hands ached to return her touch, but he used every ounce of his self-control to keep them lowered.
He knew exactly what would happen if he touched Sara anywhere besides her face.
The details flashed within him as both a warning and temptation.
He saw it all in his mind's eye.
His hands would find her hips, and he would have no way of stopping them from pulling her closer to his body.
His lips would find her again, and this time he would not pull back.
The smell of her perfume would draw his mouth to her neck, and his hands would begin to roam.
She would become lost in him, and he would take advantage of it.
He would take advantage of her.
They would hide behind the safety of the privacy curtain, and he would pull her down with him onto the exam table.
She would respond to his every move, he would not be able to stop, and their clothes would begin to disappear.
Sweat would form on his skin, a heat overtaking him as his body took control of his reason.
She would whisper his name. He would moan hers.
And he would take her, there, then, in the infirmary, on that table.
He would allow the feeling of her nails scraping his skin to push him to take her.
He would muffle her gasps with his mouth when he entered her, and she would push against his thrusts as they moved to finish as quickly as possible.
The words would hang in the air, words he wanted so badly to speak as he filled her and cherished her warmth.
The truth: the bank robbery, the breakout, the insulin…his feelings.
He would bite his lip to hold them back, and instead say her name in a quiet groan as they came with each other.
He would kiss her cheek before dressing.
And he would walk away with guilt eating away at his very existence.
Michael saw it happening as his hands struggled to remain still.
Running one through her hair as he pleaded with her to wait was hard enough for him to handle.
No, touching Sara anywhere else would prove disastrous, although it was a disaster he would love nothing more to cause.
But taking advantage of her more than he already had was out of the question.
He knew he was already hurting her…and he knew he would hurt her more before it was all over.
But he would not push it so far. He would not hurt her like that…
He loved her too much.
He would simply have to wait to prove it to her another day.