Title: Finding Ulysses
Author: Peachykin
Rating: M - Warning, this chapter is where it goes to ADULT rating
Pairing: Mi/L
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. Unfortunately Katims did and now we're all just cleaning up his mess.
Chapter 10
Michael and Liz shared a frightened glance before instincts took hold and they rushed to the floor, both falling on their knees at Sweet's side. The old man writhed in agony his hand clutching his chest, a massive heart attack quickly draining him of life.
Behind them Miriam was frantic, she was hyperventilating and her hands were shaking violently. She kept rasping out, that they needed to call an ambulance, but her brain had seemed to shut off and her voice couldn't work, "Hospital... help...!"
Sweet shook his head at the hysterical woman, despite the pain he was in, "No good..." he panted, "Lord...gonna take me... before then..."
Liz and Michael could feel the truth of Sweet's word, both feeling their friend's life force ebbing away with each struggling beat of his heart. A heart Michael felt could keep the whole world running with its sympathetic beat, was suddenly unable to keep time and it seemed Sweet's gentle soul was not long for this world.
Michael's own heart was shattering at witnessing the slow painful death of a man whom not only was his best friend, but had become so much more. Sweet had become something Michael never realized he needed, even as a grown man, a father. He'd given Michael someone to look up to, admire. His love had been unconditional, kind, and oddly, natural.
Sweet had unknowingly worn down the edges of Michael's soul, with their ever changing friendship. Michael saw that a man could love deeply and without apology and still be very much a man. Sweet had taken the blinders off of Michael's eyes and shown him a world worth watching. Not just New Orleans, but people. He'd shown him that not everyone was out to get him or that hidden agendas were the basis of every relationship. Friendship and respect were sometimes just enough.
Michael stared down into the gentle face of the man he was proud to know as Father, and knew he wasn't ready to give him up. There is no greater love than that of a son to his father and just because he and Sweet were separated by genetics, generations and galaxies, didn't make the relationship any less true. In Michael's opinion, the Lord was gonna have to take a damn rain check on Melvin Walker Johnston's soul.
Without a second thought to what revealing his secret might later mean, Michael pried Sweet's hand from his chest and tore open the old man's shirt, placing his own large palm over Sweet's failing heart.
"Michael..." Liz said softly, placing a gentle had on his forearm.
Michael took his eyes away from Sweet's for a moment to look up at Liz. Tears ran down his face at the very real threat beneath his palm, ripping his surrogate father's life away from him.
"Don't stop me, Liz." Michael pleaded, "I can't lose two of you in one night...I need him..."
Liz shook her head at Michael, reaching her other hand up to wipe away his tears, "I'm not stopping you, Michael. I would never..." a sob choked her words, "I just need to know if you're strong enough."
"I-I don't know." Michael answered her honestly, "But I have to try. He's... I have to…"
Yes, Michael had always had the ability to heal, it was his weakest power, even after his brief stint as king. But in the years since, he'd never really had the need to test the limits of his ability aside from healing the minor cut or bruise. And even if he was strong enough, this wasn't some random stranger he was rescuing. He was beyond emotionally invested in Sweet. He was so scared of losing him, his focus might not be clear enough. He was so damn scared.
Sweet let out a groan and Michael looked over at Liz desperately, "I-I don't know if I can do it..."
Liz nodded, moving the hand clutching Michael's forearm down and lifting his palm away from Sweet's chest, replacing it with her own, "Together..." she said with a shaky breath, and replacing Michael's hand on her own, "You aren't going to lose either of us."
Michael understood what Liz meant, buy "Together...", but was too wrapped up in saving his father to weigh the meaning of Liz's following sentence. Even though Liz was a changed human and her powers weren't as concentrated as her hybrid counterpart, her ability to heal exceeded Michael's. A gift from Max that she only now fully appreciated.
Separately Liz and Michael would not have been able to heal the increasing damage to Sweet's faltering heart. But together, Liz's healing energy combined with Michael's, they believed they just might be able to save their friend.
Miriam, still in a frenzy and never having been a cool head in stressful situation, could barely believe the inaction she was witnessing and the eerie calm between Michael and Liz. "This is no time to be laying hands, Michael! Liz! Sweet needs a real doctor! A hospital! Damnit! You aren't even religious!"
When neither Liz or Michael acknowledged her pleas, merely closing their eyes to find their focus Miriam balked, "Well, someone has to call!"
She picked up the phone that was just behind the bar and with shaking hands raised her fingers to the buttons, willing herself to hold it together, get Sweet help. Miriam didn't notice Michael's eyes had flown open and his free hand was extended. She shrieked when the phone was yanked from her hands, by some unseen force, and smashed into the mirrored wall behind the bar shattering it into a million pieces.
"Sweet will be dead before they even get in the fucking ambulance!" Michael hollered at the shell shocked woman. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself, "I adore you Mir, but right now I need you to shut up and trust me! Liz and I can help Sweet!"
Miriam nodded slowly, too shaken by what Michael had just done to speak, or even question how it was that he and Liz could accomplish what only trained professionals could. Michael turned back to Sweet, who was noticeably fading and weak, and cradled the nearly unconscious old man's head in his hand.
A tear slid down Michael's cheek, a son shaken by his father's fragile and blue appearance, "Sweet... Come on, Pop..." Michael whispered, his tears strangling his voice, "...Open your eyes... let us help you..."
Liz let loose new tears at the boyish tone in Michael's voice and watched as Sweet obeyed Michael's request, fluttering his eyes, his chest rising and falling with his strangled breaths. He raised a weather old hand up to Michael's face, patting his cheek.
"S'ok Son... my time to go..." he tried to reassure Michael.
"Bullshit old man." Michael told him insistently, "I'm still too stupid for you to die. Liz and I are gonna take care of you, but you have to keep your eyes open and look at me."
Sweet couldn't understand what Michael or Liz could possibly do for him, the death rattle already beginning to shake, but he did as Michael asked, staring deeply into Michael's amber eyes. They both took a sharp breath as the felt their minds connect when Liz began to emit her healing energy.
Michael felt Liz's initial struggle to keep the energy flowing and as promised, willed his own through his hand into hers. Michael had never felt more powerful and clear in his whole life and he would later wonder if Max felt the same thing when he'd healed all those people. Liz, Kyle, Jim, the children in the hospital...
Flashes of Sweet's life danced before Michael's eyes, from boyhood to the present. He felt Sweet's fatherly pride in him. His love for his "son". Never being more happy and content in his life than he was in this time, seeing his son truly in love and loved in return. He didn't want to die, but he was resigned, knowing he'd be leaving Michael in good hands, Liz's.
Miriam watched from her place at the bar, gripping the counter, unable to fathom what she was witnessing. Michael, had somehow thrown the phone from her hands, yet hadn't moved from his place on the floor, nor had he even come close to touching the phone. And now she saw an unearthly glowing coming from both Michael and Liz's hands, concentrating some sort of energy on Sweet's chest. Was it God working through these two fallen angels?
After a few more seconds the soft glow began to fade. Sweet took a large deep breath, as though a baby getting its first lung full of life. Gone were the short desperate breaths of a life ending. Liz opened her eyes and looked across Sweet at Michael. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on both their brows and their own breathing seemed labored. Michael squeezed Liz's hand still resting on Sweet's chest, unable to verbalize his thanks for her help. For not questioning him, or stopping him. For knowing how much Sweet meant to him. No words could pass between them if they tried. Together, they'd saved a life. How does one express that feeling?
Their hands parted as Sweet slowly sat up. Michael steadied the still weary and wholly confused man. Sweet could hardly believe what had happened, didn't know how to explain it, despite being a child of God. One moment he felt as if an elephant had sat on his chest, and it seemed he was heading for the pearly gates. And in the next moment he was staring into his "son's" amber eyes, finding a calm unexplainable. He felt Liz and Michael's hands resting on his chest and a soothing warmth, some sort of electric energy replacing the excruciating pain that had taken up residence in his heart. He knew he should have been frightened, but something in Michael's eyes told him he had nothing to fear, almost as if it was Michael's voice in his head reassuring him.
Sweet had heard tell of ones life passing before their eyes when death was closing in, but he couldn't understand the images he was seeing. It was as if it were someone else's life, Michael's. He saw a small boy of maybe six struggling to get out of some sort of encasement, He was naked, cold and incredibly frightened. He ran and ran into the night until he thought his lungs might burst. He didn't know who to trust, how to communicate or even who he was.
Next Sweet saw that same boy a few years later, crouched inside a small closet, his bloody lip staining his t-shirt and a dam of tears, being fought not to shed, filled his amber eyes. The stench of alcohol hung in the air, raised voices filled his ears and the boy covered his head in an effort to drown out the madness around him.
Years seemed to fly by as Sweet stared at those same haunting eyes, only now in the form of a teenage Michael. His hair was wild and unruly, his clothes worn and faded, his eyes narrowing at anyone who so much as looked in his general direction and in his gate he tried to project confidence when all he'd done his whole life was live in fear.
He was in a diner of some sort, with a dark-haired boy, when a familiar brunette passed their table in a green uniform, plastic antennae bobbing on her head. Liz. The dark- haired boy stared after Liz wistfully and while Michael appreciated Liz's beauty he could only roll his eyes at his friend's crush. Moments later their was a struggle in the diner. A gun went off and Michael watched as Liz fell to the floor, blood staining the front of her uniform. The dark-haired boy, without thought, rushed to her side, tearing open her top despite Michael's protests.
Michael ran to a vehicle, honking for the dark-haired boy catching a glimpse of Liz, holding her uniform together, not only alive, but her stomach unmarred by the violence that should have killed her. Sweet got the feeling that it was the beginning of where life led them to. Where, although for the most part separate, this was the moment Michael and Liz's lives were inextricably melded together.
After that the images came too fast for Sweet to get any sort of real information on. There were dark suits and military fatigues. Guns and loud explosions went off around them. There was a ship, unlike anything he'd ever seen before shooting out from a rock formation. Liz in white, a bride to the dark haired boy. The kiss Michael shared with her when he left. There was love, heartache, hate, anger and fear. And death. Far to much to be experienced by two people still in the spring of their years.
Sweet looked over at Michael and saw worry in they young man's eyes. He was scared of what Sweet's reaction would be to what just happened, "You okay?" Michael panted, his breathing still very labored from his and Liz's efforts.
Sweet nodded numbly, glancing at Liz and finding her in the same state as Michael, exhausted and scared. Michael turned back to Michael patting his shoulder, "Jesus Son... I always knew you was touched by God, but..."
"God..." Liz breathed, her eyes drooping with fatigue, "...had very little to do with this, Sweet."
"Would someone tell me what the hell just happened?" Miriam asked, finally feeling confident enough to move, joining them on the floor to check Sweet over.
Michael took what energy he had left and crawled over to Liz, knowing the drain of energy would take a far greater toll on her small, human body. He knew she wouldn't want him to fuss over her so he merely lent his body as a support, letting her lean against him, so she wouldn't topple over.
"We," Liz said in answer to Miriam's question, gesturing between herself and Michael, "... just cheated Death out of one soul too soon to be taken."
"B-But how?" Miriam asked, wiping Sweet's damp brow with a bar towel, still in shock and needing a rational explanation for what she'd just seen, "I mean Sweet was dying right before our eyes... You said yourself that there was no time... There is no earthly reason Sweet should be alive right now."
Sweet watched Michael and Liz give each other a tired smirk at Miriam's choice of words and though dumbfounded at what the answer indeed was, he couldn't help but smile, "I think you're right Miriam. There is no earthly reason... is there, Michael?"
Michael looked to Liz nervously for approval not needed, "Its your story to tell, Michael." she told him, knowing it should be Michael who told people who'd become like real parents to him, about his origins, his journeys, everything that brought him to here and now.
Michael had finally found someone he could trust enough to share his story with. The good, the bad and the ugly. Liz already knew the tale chapter and verse. She'd been through it with him for the most part, but now his story could be told to fresh ears, without fear of reprisal or condemnation for what he was. Sweet would never turn his back on him, no matter what and while Miriam was shocked, Michael knew her feelings were the same. He was tired of holding back something from people he'd come to love. He'd done that far too much lately and the weight of that load was becoming unbearable.
Michael nodded at Liz, acknowledging that in the wake of nearly losing someone, so dear to them forever, whatever was left unsettled between the two of them would have to wait. Liz slid her hand into Michael's, in an unconscious lending of strength, what little was left in her possession. Michael took a deep breath and scratched his eyebrow only now realizing the difficult task of beginning his story. Where to start? How does one begin a tale like this?
"I guess I'll start in Roswell, New Mexico, 1947 when the ship I was housed in crashed landed in the desert..."
"I knew that was no weather balloon." Miriam whispered to Sweet.
~*~
Michael spent the better part of three hours explaining everything he could to Sweet and Miriam. Occasionally he'd look to Liz to fill in any gaps, but essentially, as Liz had said earlier, it was Michael's story to tell.
"So, Liz here, is human? But when Max saved her, healed her, she changed?" Sweet asked, a little befuddled.
"Well, it took a couple years, but yeah..." Michael confirmed.
"Don't worry," Liz said winking at Sweet. He'd been staring at the now shimmering silver handprint on his chest for some time, "That goes away in a couple days."
Miriam snorted, "Just don't wear anything with low necklines." She teased, finally able to relax once she'd heard Michael's story and knew there was nothing to fear, not that she could have ever imagined being afraid of Michael.
Michael seemed visibly relieved that Miriam had Sweet had taken the news so well, and had never once questioned if what he was telling them wasn't the truth. Once again he realized he'd underestimated the capacity of the human heart, even his own.
"Well, this certainly explains your tendency for the mysterious." Sweet chuckled, and then sobered placing a gentle hand on Michael's shoulder, "I always knew you were special Michael, this just makes things a lot clearer. Thank you, Son."
Michael nodded, but a blush crept to his cheeks at Sweet's gratitude, when he felt he was the one who should be the one thanking Sweet. Since leaving his life behind five year earlier, Michael had strode to create a new life for himself. To realize a few dreams he'd kept tucked away in his heart. His painting. Making it on his own. And for the most part he'd done just that, but it was Sweet who gave him one thing he believed he was too old to have or even want, but craved nonetheless. And honest to God father. How could Michael not open his world up to this man, when Sweet had opened so many things for him?
Fatigue was widespread among the four friends and Miriam decided Sweet needed rest. Batting away the old man's protests that he was perfectly fine, she promised Michael that she'd keep and eye on the stubborn codger just in case.
Michael and Liz were secure in the knowledge that their secret was safe with these two gentle souls and there was still much to talk about, but they were asking a lot of Miriam and Sweet to soak in what information had been given. But they weren't scared of their two young friends. If anything they felt honored by their trust and Sweet by Michael's devotion to him, enough to save his old life.
Before they left Miriam pulled Michael into a fierce hug, "Sug, I always believed there was something more out there than just us. I just never thought I'd be selling that 'something more's' paintings in my gallery."
Michael smiled, "You said my pieces would triple in price if I died. Imagine what they'd do if people found out I was an alien."
Miriam raised an amused eyebrow at Michael, " So... this secret thing...You're really attached to it?"
"Our lives sorta depend on it." Liz answered with a chuckle.
"Fine..." Miriam sighed comically, "We'll just have to get by with Michael's considerable talent."
~*~
After seeing Miriam and Sweet out, Michael and Liz walked upstairs to the apartment in silence, the overall emotion of the night having rendered them speechless. It had been a merciful long while since either of them had tasted death, and once again with someone they loved deeply. Just that taste alone would have depleted them, but combined with the euphoria of working together to reclaim the life of their loved one, left them utterly exhausted.
"I ...um ...think I'm just gonna go lie down." Liz said softly, once they were inside.
"Um yeah..." Michael agreed, " Me too."
The day's and night's events played over and over again in Michael's mind as he watched Liz carry her sandals down the hall to her room. He followed behind her, unsure of how to tell her how grateful he was she'd been there to help him with Sweet.
"Liz..." he called out gently. When she turned to look up at him he continued, "Thanks... for Sweet..."
Liz nodded knowing how difficult it was for Michael to express his gratitude over something that meant so much to him. Michael gave her a small smile and brought his hand up to the doorknob of his room.
"Michael..." she said in a tear harshened voice, asking him to meet her eyes, "I filed for divorce from Max."
And there it was, her confession, said merely in passing instead of the grand announcement she'd planned on. Given yet another brush with death they'd experienced together, Liz felt her news held far less importance than it had before. The way Michael's eyes widened slightly and his whole body seemed to relax, Liz knew her point had been made, and that Michael would going to bed with one less burden on his heart. She wasn't going to leave him. For tonight, that could be enough.
~*~
Michael had watched Liz disappear into her bedroom and found himself unable to move into his own. That's what she had been trying to tell him that morning. That's why it was about Max, but all he could manage to feel was simple relief, followed by the unknown. Liz was free. But could he still have her? Was that really the only thing standing in between them?
Michael's fatigue was forgotten and he made his way down the hall and into the studio. As he walked in the room he immediately glanced over at a paint-cloth covered canvas against the wall. A piece too personal to even show. He removed the cloth studying it intently. He hadn't even be sure why he'd painted it, except that it seemed to answer so many questions and held the true measure of the dilemma that raged inside him. To have Liz, or not.
Here and now, it seemed that having Liz was becoming more and more a reality, so why was he still terrified. Shouldn't he be grateful? Isn't that what he'd desired for so long? Was he so not used to getting what he wanted, that when it was presented to him, he ran?
Michael took one last look at the painting before turning towards the balcony shaking his head, "She's wrong." he muttered, "I'm not a jackass... I'm a fucking coward."
~*~
Liz was about to undress for bed, her fatigue so measurable she felt she could sleep for a week and still be tired, but she remembered she'd left her purse on the dining room table and with the headache she was forming, she knew she'd need aspirin soon. Michael never took any drugs, so the only bottle they had was in that purse.
With a heavy sigh Liz shuffled out of her bedroom, past Michael's, retrieving her purse from where she'd left it. She was digging around for the aspirin, when she passed Michael's room and noticed the door wide open, but he was nowhere to be found. He was as tired as she was, where could he be?
Her eyes fell to the to the studio's door, finding it slightly ajar, took a chance he was there and pushed it open. She stepped inside quietly scanning the room for him finally catching him out on the balcony leaning over the railing with his head in his hands. The gentle breeze of the night air caused wisps of his long hair to dance in the moonlight. He created quite a portrait himself, if he could only see the beauty inside of him, Liz thought.
Sensing Michael needed the time alone for quiet reflection, after everything that had happened that night, she stepped back to return to her bedroom. She paused suddenly when her eye caught the painting Michael, only minutes earlier had uncovered. At first she thought it was just one of his New Orleans pieces, but upon a second look she realized it was another one of her. Why hadn't she seen this at the gallery? Why didn't Michael want this one shown? Was it unfinished? Or was it just too powerful, too personal to submit to the public?
Curiosity got the better of Liz and she walked slowly towards the painting, every step making the image clearer and making her weaker. His other paintings had the same effect, why should this one be any different? But it was different and so powerful with emotion, that the purse in Liz's hands dropped to the floor and she felt herself sway.
She should have been surprised when she felt Michael's hand at the small of her back, steadying her, but she wasn't. She welcomed the support she knew she would always have with him, even when she didn't know she needed it. Michael always let her lean on him and he still managed to make her stand on her own two feet.
Michael had heard Liz come in, recognizing the soft padding her feet made on the hardwood floors and the squeaky board in the studio's entryway she always forgot about. A mild panic had settled inside him when he realized he hadn't covered the painting. That she'd see his most raw and naked piece and he wasn't sure if she was ready, given her reaction to his other works. Last time, she ran.
Not wanting to alarm her he crept inside slowly, taking as cautious and quiet steps as she did, doing his best to read her body language, for any hint of distress. When she stopped, standing only a few feet away from the painting, Michael saw her sway and reached a hand out instinctively to steady her. He found himself unafraid of what she was she felt because what ever it was, it was powerful and that was the point of the piece.
Liz just stared, tears she'd thought she'd cried out dropped onto her cheeks. Why was this piece so different from the others? Because in this one, Michael had included himself. All of his other paintings were taken from his point of view, but not this one.
It was a cross section of Liz's room and the hallway. On one side, in her room, Liz lay sleeping peacefully on her stomach, naked from the waist up and her skin was bathed in the morning sunlight. On the other side of the door was Michael, wearing grey sweats and no shirt, the hallway was darkened and his hair was hiding some of his features, but Liz could make out that his eyes were closed and he was leaning his head against her bedroom door an almost pained expression on his face.
Liz wondered if this piece had come from Michael's imagination, because she didn't remember anything like what was on that canvas, ever happening. She was about to ask Michael where it had come from when her eye caught something red in his hand. Her address book. Her breath caught when she realized that it had been nearly a month ago that he'd stolen her address book to call Kyle. He must've seen her ... he'd loved her, even then?
She reached back with her hand sliding it into Michael's, feeling his breath on her neck and shoulders as he wrapped the arm steadying her back, around her waist, spreading his palm against her stomach.
"What's it called?" Liz asked him in a strangled whisper.
"Dangerous." Michael answered pulling Liz closer to him.
Liz shivered at the low huskiness in Michael's voice, wondering how he knew the perfect pitch at which to make his seduction of her that much easier. He must have felt her shake because a moment later she was pressed even closer to his hard body, flush against muscles she'd only had moments to appreciate that morning. The hand tangled with her own loosened its gentle grip and began tracing delicate circles up her arm, causing goose bumps on an otherwise humid Louisiana night.
"Am I? Dangerous?" Liz breathed, sure that Michael was the only thing holding her upright, because her legs sure has hell weren't.
She felt Michael nod against her hair, "To me... Yes, you are very dangerous."
"Why?"
"Fear." Michael answered simply, not needing to think about his answer.
What had always gotten in the way of Michael expressing himself was his fear and as he'd told Sweet earlier that evening, loving Liz Parker as much as he did terrified him. She got into his chest and burrowed so deep into his heart that Michael felt like what Sweet must have experienced that night, like his heart would burst. And the worst thing of all was that he'd let her. Love always hurt for Michael, because he fought so much to resist its warm embrace.
But after that evenings brush with death, nearly losing someone he loved without them knowing how they'd affected his life, Michael realized he had to stop running away from the things that frightened him. Even men who choose to reside in the shadows cannot go untouched by love. Although Michael had sworn, after what he saw as failure with Maria, that he would never let love like that back into his life, he forgot what a worthy and powerful foe it was as it was visiting his love for Liz upon him three fold.
As strong as Michael was, he was never a match for the dark eyes, olive skin and gentle heart that was Liz and it was beyond time to be brave and accept whatever may come from it. Running away from his feelings had only served to push Liz away and as he found that morning when the possibility of her departure had arisen, losing her scared him more than loving her ever did.
"Why do I scare you so much, Michael?" Liz asked, her voice still strangled with tamped emotion, "I'm still just me."
Michael bent his head down, brushing his mouth over the soft skin of Liz's shoulder, moving his way up her neck with the lightest caress of his lips, almost as if they weren't even touching her skin. He felt her breathing stop, as if any other action besides his kisses would take away from the sensation they delivered. He turned her around in his arms, needing her to face him. If he couldn't tell her his feelings, looking into the eyes that had become his blissful undoing, he wouldn't be able to do it at all.
"Just you?," Michael began, brushing and errant hair off of Liz's face, his light touch nearly burning her skin, "Liz, you scare the hell out of me... you're so fucking dangerous because... I want you. I want all of you. Your, heart, your soul, your body... everything. I couldn't settle for anything less and I thought I would be if you were still tied to Max, I'd still be second to him in everything... even loving you."
"And now?" Liz asked, nearly crumbling at Michael actually admitting what she already knew to be true, he loved her.
Michael sighed, "Now? Now I know you'll always be with Max in some way. Its what brought us together, brought us here. I have to start trusting that your tie to Max won't take you away from me."
"But Michael... I'm not tied to Max any..." Liz protested.
Michael shook his head, "You are Liz, but its okay. It doesn't matter. And what's left of your marriage is a piece of paper, right?"
Liz nodded emphatically, the dam of information she'd been keeping from him breaking inside her, coming out at Maria-like speeds.
"I called Jesse two days after I got here, because Sweet told me I had to decide how much a part of your life I wanted to be... which is huge by the way... so the paperwork took a week and then that night I missed our talk, I was signing those papers... I just wanted to be free for you, because you deserve all of me, but Max got the papers a week ago... and he's fighting it and I was so scared that it wouldn't be enough, even though I lovemppphhhh..."
Liz's words were cut off by Michael's mouth covering hers and when his tongue tangled with her own, she forgot what she was saying, melting into the kiss. Michael pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers and watching her hooded eyes struggle to remain open.
"Keep it simple, Parker." he whispered with a smirk..
Liz smiled up at Michael and clutched at the collar of his shirt possessively, "Mine." she said in a low sexy growl.
Liz's act of possession threw fuel on the embers of their desire that morning and Michael claimed her lips, needing only the insistent swiping of his tongue on her bottom lip to open her mouth to him. Once gentle touches turned rough and demanding from both of them. So many times they'd been interrupted when on the brink of a breakthrough, they were determined that even if a nuclear holocaust hit them in the next few moments, their bodies would be found together, joined as one.
Michael urged Liz backwards, his mouth too busy devouring hers to notice the fast approaching wall. They parted when Liz's back struck the wall with just enough force to cause the painting leaning against it to almost fall forward. Michael was about to ask Liz if she was okay, when a wicked smile came over her face. And she had to ask him if she was dangerous?
Liz reached up to Michael's shirt collar again, only this time tearing the material open, as he'd done with her jersey that morning, and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She licked her lips at the sight if his bared torso knowing it was all hers. He was all hers. She wasn't sure where this bout of possession came from, possibly a concentrated feeling that had been forced down during this agonizing month of being so damn close and so damn scared to act. Whatever it was she wasn't about to ignore it anymore. Michael wanted her, and that meant he got to see all sides of her.
She reached her hand out running her hand from the edge of his pants, teasing the skin just above the button and causing his stomach to flex. She moved upwards stalling in slow circles around his compact chest, her fingernails dancing over his nipples. Just when she managed to elicit a shaking breath from his Michael's lips, Liz traveled upward caressing his collarbone, finally reaching behind his neck, pulling his down to her mouth.
Liz begged Michael, with her rough kisses, to be that same man who had come so close to taking her in the kitchen that morning. Ardent, impassioned, rough and almost beyond reason. She didn't want him to hold back anything for fear it might scare her. If anything it excited her more. She wanted to be treated the way that she felt, hungry, sensual, demanding and all because she was so very much in love with this man.
Liz had seen and felt the power of Michael's love radiating from his paintings, now she wanted to feel that power coming directly from him, his body. Pulsing through muscles that could envelop her entire body and heating skin she'd so long to touch deliberately. She wanted feel all the things that made him, Michael.
Michael obliged Liz's need, hell he was grateful at not having to suppress the near consumptive fervency that pulsed inside him. He lifted Liz off the ground and pressed her against the wall with his hips, as he'd done against the refrigerator. He reveled in the unabashed moans that came from deep inside her as their arousals pressed together. He didn't care if all of New Orleans heard them, if anything he felt the Lady breathe a sigh of relief at two of her precious children finally finding happiness in each other's arms.
Somehow or another, Michael and Liz knew this was how their first time would be. Five years of repressed sexual energy combined with the euphoria of finally touching each other in ways meaningful and deliberate, it couldn't have happened any other way. Although, Michael would have gladly given it to her should she have asked, but he knew Liz no longer dreamed of silken sheets, mood music and scented candles. That was the doe-eyed girl from Roswell, New Mexico.
She wasn't consumed by the perfect ambience or the perfect place, she just wanted to be with him. It seemed to almost make sense that it would be in the studio where so much had been silently expressed and hidden. This was the woman from New Orleans, teeming with life and spice. She was fire. She was dangerous. She was all his.
Michael rained deep biting kisses down her neck, while his hands, gripped and kneaded at her thighs. She squeezed his hips reflexively in answer gripping at his arms and shoulders, not worried about the bruises and scratches she might leave behind, knowing this was the kind of hurt love brought, that Michael would welcome. Although, it seemed the biggest hurt at the moment was coming from the layers of clothing that separated their heats. Who knew a few centimeters of fabric could cause so much torture?
Michael took one of the flimsy straps, holding Liz's dress to her shoulder, in his teeth, untying it quickly with an insistent tug. He nudged the material down with his nose, his tongue darting out to taste even more of her exposed skin, and rolling her nipple in his tongue once the hardened bud met his lips. He did the same with the other side and the dress collected at her waist.
Liz tangled her hands in Michael's hair as she felt his hot mouth send electricity through her body when he concentrated on her breasts. Her hips rocked against his in answer to the delight he was visiting upon her. The friction they were creating threatened to send them into early releases. For every rock forward she made, Michael pressed her back harder into the wall, using more and more of his weight, unconcerned with her fragility, for in this moment, both knew fragility had no place.
It had been so long since either of them had been intimate with anyone, the smallest touch in just the right spot would have ended their tryst in an all too soon bliss and they were both tired of the foreplay. Hell, that's all that month had been between them, one gigantic round of foreplay. Liz was beyond ready to feel the power that would come from having Michael inside her. They would have a lifetime for tender touches and long slow hours in bed. Their need now was too immediate to ignore and did nothing to sully the love between them.
( Sex Scene / Lemon Warning , skip to next set of stars if you want to bypass)
With great effort Liz pulled Michael's face up to hers pressing her inflamed lips to his. She reached between their damp bodies and with the flick of her wrist, undid his pants pushing them off of his hips, pooling them at his feet. He hissed against her mouth when he felt he small hand wrap around his erection, stroking him in a slow building rhythm. He arched his hips forward both groaning when he came in contact with her wet folds.
"Do you ever wear underwear?" Michael panted against her lips.
Liz let out a small chuckle, "This coming from the man who owns not one pair of boxers or anything even close to resembling underwear?"
Michael smirked back, amused that even in the throes their first sexual encounter they could still rib each other. His smirk disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when Liz rocked her hips forward, sinking herself ever so slightly onto the head of his erection. His hands gripped her hips possessively , halting her movements, though the animal inside him taunted him with the need to drive hard and fast into her body.
Michael sucked her bottom lip into his mouth staring back at her now midnight eyes, "And you have to ask me why I think you're dangerous?"
Liz tried to fight against Michael's strong hands, needing to feel him completely inside her. It wasn't fair when he had the upper hand to tease. She tried arching her back, brushing her nipples against his sweat soaked chest and began nibbling his jaw line.
"Please Michael..." she breathed against his ear, "Finish this."
Michael growled at her request sinking himself deeper before stopping suddenly. His lusty growl replaced with one of frustration. They had the love. They had the fire. They even had the all consuming desire, but one thing they didn't have, was protection. Given the reasons Liz had left Max, Michael didn't believe she was ready to jump into parenthood with him, as much surprising appeal as that held for him. Liz stopped her kisses and sat back studying his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, full of concern and desperation.
Michael shook his head, leaning his forehead down against her slick chest, "Liz, I want this... so much... but... but we don't have any protection... and we are nothing if not a potent race." he picked his head up to meet hers, "I'm sorry... I wasn't exactly planning on this happening."
Michael grew confused when instead of hearing a whimper of frustration on Liz's part, he heard her giggle mischievously, the devil dancing in her eyes, "What are you up to, Parker?"
Liz gave Michael a look of feigned innocence and brought one of her hands out of Michael's hair and extended it behind him. The purse that had fallen on the floor rose off the ground and flew into Liz's hand.
"Good thing one of us was prepared." she said digging into her purse, her finger brushing the aspirin bottle she'd originally been seeking for a headache long since forgotten.
Michael's jaw nearly dropped when she pulled out a condom, tapping his nose with the foil package, "Don't tell me you knew this was gonna happen..."
Liz shook her head, "I wasn't sure... I knew I wanted it to..." she answered, and then for the first time since they began their heated exchange she blushed, "I hoped once I told you about the divorce you'd stop running... so I raided the machine in the men's bathroom at the bar."
Michael grinned wide taking the condom out of her hand and kissing her feverishly, "An investment that just keeps on giving." he mused and then pulled back kissing her tenderly, "Thank you."
Liz nodded and licked her lips again in anticipation as Michael secured the condom, their passion momentarily interrupted with the necessity for protection. Michael wetted her lips with his own, building their need with teasing brushes of their heats. Liz clawed at his backside, trying to bring him inside her, growing frustrated by his teasing.
Michael pulled his mouth from hers, his tongue darting out playfully at the corners of her mouth, his grip on her surprisingly strong hips tightening. He held her eyes with his own, all traces of their amber and brown colors consumed by a lusty blackness. He needed to see her face when they joined, memorize the expression.
"God, I love you." he growled as he surged forward, almost violently, sheathing himself fully inside her.
Liz cried out blissfully at hearing his tender words, accompanied by his vigorous entrance. It was more powerful than even she imagined and she was grateful. Once inside her, Michael took a moment to pause. The concentration of emotions and sensations were nearly unbearable and if she didn't have that pause she wouldn't have been able to stop the tidal wave that had been building inside her for so long.
Michael had to pause, feeling the same thing Liz did. The power he felt at having her completely surrounding him, squeezing him mercilessly, pulsing around him, it was too much to bear physically after going untouched for so long. He knew it wouldn't last long, they were both so close before he'd entered her, but he wanted to prolong it for just a few minutes longer.
Liz opened her eyes, shut so tightly in rapture only a moment before. Her heart broke at the pained expression on Michael's face, it almost mirrored that of the painting that had touched off their union. He was trying to hide how desperately close he was, thinking of her satisfaction and staving off his own. The muscles of his arms and back were petrified with strain and his jaw was clenched making his glorious cheekbones stand out even more.
He didn't know that the mere shift of his hips or hers would send her over the edge and his restraint was unnecessary. Whether it had been five years or two years, so many sensations concentrated in such a short period of time would have undone the strongest of souls.
"Michael..." Liz panted softly, asking him to open his eyes. Michael shook his head fearing if he so much as looked at Liz, he might come.
"Michael..." Liz said a bit more insistently, arching her hips and pushing him impossibly deeper inside her.
The simple action caused Michael eyes to fly open. Did she know what she was doing to him? And as he stared into her eyes, there was that danger he loved so much. Liz knew exactly what she was doing to him, because she was in exactly the same place.
"Liz..." he whispered hoarsely.
"Michael... I'm with you..." she breathed, placing a gentle kiss on his slightly parted mouth. Her eyes flicked back up to his, "I love you."
Michael couldn't contain the shuddering breath and the tears that stung his eyes at her love directed so honestly at him. He released his tight grip on her hips, letting his body and her tightly locked legs keep her anchored to him. He took her hands in his pressing them slightly above her head. Clasping them tightly as he pulled his hips back to slide out of her, surging forward again.
Liz's eyes flashed and her breath caught at the need sweeping through her body. She pushed her hips back in answer, asking Michael to speed up his movements, bring them both closer to the release they so desperately needed. Michael obeyed, barely in control of his lower body anyway.
Liz felt herself coming apart in Michael arms and she arched herself off the wall in a rapturous cry, unable to distinguish Michael's name from God's as her release seeped into her every molecule and burst them apart. Michael bit his lip watching Liz achieve her peak in front of his eyes and the firm knowledge that he'd been the one to give her that.
With one final hard thrust into Liz's body Michael felt his own release slam into him, the growl it elicited echoing in the room and causing his body become rigid and shaky. His eyes momentarily were blinded by the pure pleasure that ripped through his veins and he dropped Liz's hands, bracing himself against the wall. Liz, though weak and limp from her release, held on tightly to Michael as she felt him throb inside her and despite her precarious position, felt she was the only thing keeping Michael upright.
The thick bayou air did little to cool their now slick bodies. Hot breaths, light kisses, and whispers of affection were exchanged. Their soaked hair stuck to their faces in what Michael would describe as a beautiful mess.
When he felt strong enough, Michael removed himself from inside Liz with a hiss, experiencing the agony it was to not be a part of her. He set her down, gently spreading his palm over stomach to steady her when he saw that her legs were still wobbly. He waved his other hand over his now spent groin an tried to find his own balance after such a powerful experience.. Liz let her now thoroughly wrinkled and damp dress fall off her body, leaving her standing completely naked with Michael in the moonlight. He reached out taking her into his strong embrace, feeling all her skin against his, consumed by the sudden need to just hold her in his arms.
( End Sex Scene )
When Michael released her, Liz dropped a kiss on his chest where his heart still pounded furiously with their exertions. Words could have been exchanged, but they felt no need to. All that had needed to be said was done with their bodies and hearts.
Both of their eyes fell to the hallway and without a word they began to repaired themselves, Michael reluctantly letting Liz leave his touch to pull up his pants and Liz grabbing his torn shirt swathing her small body in it. Once in a state of semi dress Liz took Michael's hand, leading him out of the room and down the hallway.
Michael didn't know where they were headed, he didn't care as long as it was with Liz. He grinned at how tiny she looked in his shirt, although thinking she definitely made it look better than he ever could have.
Liz arrived at her bedroom, stepping across the thresh hold. She tried to pull Michael inside but found him resistant. She turned around looking up at him in confusion, "Michael?"
Michael wouldn't have had any trouble going into any other room aside from Liz's, but this was his painting come to life. Only this time he wasn't sneaking into her room to steal anything. She was letting him into her room, inviting him into her bed and her life completely. They were beyond best friends now, the line demolished by what they'd just done in the studio. He wasn't sure why, but the moment caused him pause. He was staring at Liz through an open door instead of fighting his want for her through a closed one. Guess the reason was clear after all.
Liz's heart melted as she realized the reason behind Michael's pause. The painting. The reality of their relationship evolving to this point at blinding speeds. He wasn't scared, just awed and she had to admit to the same feeling. She wasn't just inviting another man into her bed, it was Michael. He wasn't just her friend, or the man she harbored a secret love for anymore. He was her lover. It wasn't just him making love to her in that studio, she'd made love to him as well. He'd invited her into his heart and she knew what a guarded and delicate that place was. She'd fought to get to it and she had to admit to feeling humbled that it was a battle she'd managed to win.
Liz tugged on Michael's hand trying to bring him inside her room, "Come to bed, Michael... Please."
Michael let out a breath, somehow needing to hear Liz's invitation verbalized. He looked down at the invisible line her thresh hold created and watched his foot take one step over it, and then another. No going back. She'd let him in and he'd let her in.
Michael reached for the door and shut it behind him, leaving that scared little boy on the other side, because now he had his brass ring.
~*~
Michael and Liz lay in bed spent from a decidedly longer love making session. Taking their time, getting to know each other's bodies, what touches made them hum and which ones made them scream. A fact gathering experiment Liz threw her whole self into, much to Michael's amusement and extreme pleasure. Also amused that not only had Liz been "prepared" for their earlier actions in the studio, but it seemed she planned for many more after that, telling Michael he'd definitely need to order more condoms for the men's room bathroom.
"Not that I mind you depleting my stock," Michael teased as he stared down at Liz, propped on one elbow, "But why don't you let me take care of the birth control from now on. Some of the older patrons might keel over at the urinals if they see you in there raiding the machine for a quickie."
Liz giggled, "Noted."
"Healing Sweet kicked my ass," he continued, "I don't think I can handle doing that on a regular basis."
He traced finger over Liz's kiss swollen lips, "And you seem to have a strong effect on men's hearts."
Liz smiled up at him, "Well, I have it on good authority that I am, dangerous."
"Lethal." Michael added, dropping a kiss on the lips his fingers had been caressing, bringing his hand down to her sheet covered stomach, rubbing idle circles on the flat expanse.
Liz felt Michael's arousal, swell against her leg and her eyes widened, "Again?"
"What?" Michael asked in feigned indignance, "You try going five years without sex. I have a lot of time to make up for."
Liz rolled at her eyes at him, and stopped him before he leaned in for another kiss, "Fine, but I need you to answer me one thing that's been bugging me all night."
Michael fell back against his pillow with an exaggerated sigh, "I've been out of the game so long I've forgotten that chicks like to get all Chatty Cathy afterwards." he teased.
"Don't make me send you to your room." Liz growled through a chuckle. Michael held his hands up in surrender, far from stupid enough to keep baiting Liz.
"The paintings at the gallery, the ones not for sale..." she began, "Sweet and I think you're hanging Finding Ulysses in the bar..."
"Yep." Michael confirmed, "It's going up in the wooden space between the mirror, behind the bar... well once you and I, you know, restore the mirror."
Liz nodded, biting her lip, "Miriam told me that you said, Little Miss Scientist is going to a friend. Now I know you're sending that portrait of Lexi to Isabel for her birthday, so..."
"Who's the friend?" Michael finished, watching Liz nod. Michael took a breath, "Your parents."
Liz's breath caught in her throat, "M-My parents?"
Michael nodded, "Yeah. All they have of you are the photos you send them, so I called them one night when you were watching the bar and asked them if they'd want it, which of course they did."
"But why that painting?" Liz furrowed her brow, "I mean why not the one of me doing the books? Scientist will only remind them of what I could have become if I hadn't..."
"Who says you aren't?" Michael asked her plainly.
Liz stared down at him, "I, well... I..."
"Yeah that's what I thought." Michael laughed, "You could go back to school if you wanted and now you can't blame Max for holding you back."
"But I can't afford it. Tuition is so expensive and I can't ask my parents to pay for it, not now." Liz argued.
Michael smirked up at her, "Good thing you have a scholarship."
"A scholarshi...Michael!"
Realization dawned on Liz that he scholarship Miriam had told her about that evening was meant for her. Michael was going to pay for her education.
"Don't say no Liz. I already talked to your dad about it and he wouldn't let me do it unless he paid for at least half of it. He's almost as stubborn as you are." Michael told her sitting up.
Michael shook his head, "Bar's paid for and the revenue it brings in more than pays for anything I need, which isn't much. The money I make from my painting will just sit in the bank. I want to do this for you, Liz."
Liz could hardly believe what she was hearing. Michael had planned on doing this even if they hadn't admitted their feelings. He was trying to be a friend, helping another friend realize dreams she hadn't completely given up on.
"Liz?" Michael nudged her when he felt she'd been silent too long.
Liz nodded, leaning up to kiss Michael in a hungry kiss, sending him back against the pillow. Michael couldn't help but chuckle as she peppered him with quick kisses of gratitude.
"My woman is turned on by education. God, I love the irony?"
~*~
The next morning, Michael woke feeling like he'd slept for a thousand years. He opened his eyes taking in the deep green walls and smiling. Recalling the one other time he'd woken up in Liz's bed disoriented. New Years Eve, 2002. He'd woken up with an alien-sized hangover and the smell of Liz all around him.. A few minutes later she'd come out of the bathroom swathed in a large robe, towel drying her hair. If he'd only known then what he knew now, But even so, he wouldn't have changed a thing, because all of it, led them here.
Smile still firmly planted, on his face Michael rolled over to take her in his arms, fully intending on taking advantage of a luxury he hadn't even entertained all those years ago, and found her side of the bed empty. He sat up quickly scanning the room. He was normally a light sleeper and would have figured he'd have felt her leave him, but given everything that had happened the night before and the relief at having Liz's love, he'd slept like a baby.
Michael looked around the small room for his clothes and found them nowhere in sight. Instead he found his grey sweats folded neatly at the bottom of the bed. He grabbed them quickly and threw them on, crying out in pain as he stubbed his toe on the leg of Liz's bed, unfamiliar with the obstacles in her room.
He threw open the door to her room, the smell of coffee and bacon hitting his nose and limped out to the living room. He let out a large sigh of relief, unsure where his sudden bout of paranoia at her leaving had come from, when he saw her standing in the living room, wearing her red jersey and staring at something on wall, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand.
Michael was about to announce his presence when he saw what Liz had been staring at. The painting, their painting was hanging on the wall above the couch, sitting proudly for anyone who came into their home to see.
Liz had heard Michael's scrambling in the bedroom and turned to him, "You don't mind do you? I just felt like it belonged here."
Michael nodded his head limping over to her and wrapping his arms around her. Yeah, it belonged there. It was a tribute to how far they'd come. It belonged there as much as Liz did.
~*~
TBC…