|"Between Dreams and Reality "
Disclaimer: All Standard Declaimers Apply
Summary: You'll know when you're dreaming, and when you're not.
Category: After Hours
Authors Note: Please be kind. This is my first attempt at a Roswell fanfic, and also at a NC-17 rating.
|She always felt lonely, like if no one else existed, except her.
This was the time of the day were friends and love didn't matter to her.
She felt lonely, because of one person only. She knew it wasn't Liz or
her mother's fault, and she felt guilty of that.
She just needed some time alone. That's all. Alone, so she could sort things out, about her existence, her life, just herself. She just needed time for herself.
She kept telling herself that over and over again, until she was bored of those words, kept telling herself that she was okay, that she was happy with her life the way it was, that she didn't need anyone else except herself, that she was enough.
She was just fooling herself and everybody who cared for her, with this. She was afraid. Afraid of life, of everything, including love. A love that was denied to her. A love that she needed to survive. A love she needed to see.
"Michael." She sighed his name.
Life just sucks. She smiled in agreement.
Life was lonelier at night, when the moon showed it's sad face for the world to see, when the stars were brilliant, like tears. As her tears.
Maria couldn't keep herself any longer. She knew perfectly well, that he didn't love her, even like her the way she liked him, the way she loved him. He had made that clear enough.
Maria felt her sobs wrack her entire body, but amazingly as it was, she was crying silently, there was just the muffled sounds of her sobs against her pillow, as she cried alone. With no one there to comfort her. With him not there to soothe away her pain.
She was alone, as every other night, she was crying alone.
She had nothing else left, except her dreams, those were the only things the kept her smiling every day, knowing that he was with her, even though, it was some illusion, just to 'touch' him, 'smell' him, 'kiss' him, made her happy.
It made her happy. It gave her joy.
Sometimes she would dream of being wrapped around his strong arms, as they held her tightly against his chest, feel his breath against the back of her neck, his lips roaming over her neck, face, hair, chest, arms, hands, just being with him.
But she knew that was all going to disappear the moment her eyes open. The moment reality settles in. The moment she realizes that it was just another foolish hope, that again vanished.
She continued to cry, hoping she would just drown with her own tears, she was pathetic. That thought only made her cry all the more.
She cried all night, until she couldn't take it anymore. Then she fell into a restless dream, with the hope of seeing him again.
Michael couldn't take it anymore. It was enough. He had to get out. He needed some fresh air, to cool himself down. He thought he would suffocate if he didn't get out quickly.
Why couldn't he be normal? Did he do something wrong? Why would faith hang such a future on his shoulders?
He had so many questions, with no clue of their answers.
He needed her. That's all he knew. He needed her. She was like a drug. He needed her in his system, or he would die.
He just kept walking around town, like he was used to when he felt lost and alone. Ironically, he always ended in the same spot, in the same tree, in front of the same house. The house that kept 'her' away from him.
He knew she was alone. He heard her say it to Liz, early this afternoon, when they were chatting at the Crashdown, that her mother was out of town for a convention, and that she was expected to return in two, maybe three weeks.
He groaned at the thought of her being alone in that house, with no one there to watch her, to see if she was doing well, to check if she was okay. He was scared that something may happen to her. But he couldn't go to her, because he knew if he did, he would risk her life, and then he wouldn't be able to protect her anymore. He just couldn't.
He knew a relationship with her wouldn't work out anyway. Someday, soon, he feared, he should have to leave this town, and he couldn't bare seeing her cry, he wouldn't be able to sleep, least of all leave at all. He feared that.
She was his downfall, his fatal weakness. He thought suddenly.
He knew she was asleep by now, only freaks were awake at this time in the morning, like him, stalking around town.
His lips ached with the thought of her lips. He remembered the feel of them, the last time he touched them they were like silk over plush, an intoxicating combination if you may ask. He felt drunk with her kisses, her flavor, like the most potent wine. Her skin, sweet like chocolate, her eyes deep and curious.
Ever since the first time they'd kiss, he'd been dreaming of her in his arms, entwined in her embrace, in her lips, surrounded in her scent.
He was now standing over her window, watching her through the clear glass.
She was crying. His heart ached.
But he refused to let her know he was there. He stood still, watching her closely, as she muffled her sobs against her pillow, how her hair was plastered against her forehead, the way her eyes looked in a distant sad expression.
And then, she fell asleep. And he sighed.
He slowly entered her room, silently, gracefully, as an agile cat, moving through the shadows, analyzing the figure sleeping on the bed below.
He couldn't help himself. He smiled sweetly, sitting beside her, at the edge of the bed. He touched her shoulder slightly, stroking her skin with his fingers, running his hands through the strands of her short blonde hair.
He placed a tender kiss on her bare shoulder.
He couldn't stay away from her anymore. He couldn't resist her. She was the light in his darkness. He knew this was wrong, but he felt this was right.
Maria slowly opened her eyes at the feel of a slight wetness at her shoulder, of a slight pressure against her skin.
She was startled at first, then smiled as she thought she was still dreaming.
"I love this dream." She murmured almost inaudibly.
"This isn't a dream anymore, Maria," Michael whispered against her neck.
"Then, this is some kind of a fantasy of my own."
"No." Was the simple answer.
"This couldn't be real, I know it." She said, sitting up.
"Why are you so sure of that?" Michael asked nuzzling her hair with his nose.
"Because the real Michael wouldn't be here with me, not like this, not ever like this, he would be running away, if the slightest of touches occurred." She smiled sadly, "the Michael I know, wouldn't be here like you are, touching me like this, kissing me like this, making me feel like this."
"I'm as real as you want me to be. I'll make you feel what you want to feel." He groaned, "it's me, Maria, just give me a chance to prove it to you." He said truthfully.
"Make me feel, Michael." She hugged him, as if her life depended on it, "Don't go, please? It's all I ask. Be here with me when I open my eyes again. I love you . . ." She whispered, on the verge of tears.
He did the only thing he could think of, he kissed her.
"Don't cry, ever. You hear me, I'll be here, just for you, waiting for you, whenever you need me. I'm always here."
"Liar." She said, resting her head against his chest, "someday, you'll be gone, and you'll leave me behind. And you wont look back."
"Then, let's not think of that day, let's think about now, and the way you make me feel." He say, kissing her again. "This is how you make me feel." He placed her hand over his chest, were his heart beat furiously.
"This if how you make me feel." She said, kissing him again, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, letting it dance against his own. I was a sensual dance.
When they parted, both were breathless, and all they did was kiss.
"I want you, I need you." He said.
And then, they were kissing again, as passionate as before, but with a new degree wonder. They touched, stroked, kissed, caressed. It was like something set in stone.
Michael kissed her chest through her T-shirt, stroked her arms, massaged her shoulders.
Maria was at a total loss. She was swimming in a sea of novelties. She had never felt like this before, not even in her wildest dreams, had she felt something as deep and sincere as this, she never felt like the goddess she was feeling now. This was so new to her, and he still hadn't taken her shirt off. It was truly amazing. The feeling was beyond any words.
This was true. This was real.
He slid his hands under her T-shirt, stroking the tender skin under her breasts. He smiled when she groaned his name out. Her eyes were shut tight, and her head was turned to a side. He placed his hands at the small of her back, pulling her to him.
Maria felt her T-shirt being pulled over her head, and she obeyed, it was as if someone else was obeying. On instinct, she placed her arms across her chest, shielding herself.
He gently, unwounded her arms from her chest, "Don't ever hide yourself from me, you have nothing to be ashamed of . . . You're so beautiful."
The infliction in his voice made her less hesitant. Then she gasped when she felt his burning mouth close over her nipple. She gripped his head to her chest, wanting more and more of this new experience. She gasped again when his hand started to play with her other nipple, running the pouting bud between his thumb and index finger.
He switched breasts, now playing with the other bud, taking as much of her breast into his mouth.
"Michael, stop." She breathed, "I can't hold-"
"Let it go, don't hold it, just let it go." And then he cupped her mound.
She cried out, as her release came. She gripped the edges of the bed, her chest arched forward, and then she hugged him, in the aftermath of her climax.
"I didn't know . . ." She said, holding him firm against her chest.
"You know only a part of it." And then, he was kissing her again. Gentler this time.
He started to divest himself of his clothes, each piece of garment started to disappear, one after the other.
She laid almost languidly, staring at his perfection. From his spiked hair, his gorgeous face, his broad shoulders, his wide thorso, his narrow hips, down the patch of brownish hair until she reached his groin. She laid mesmerized at the perfection of his body. Her gaze continued down to his strong thighs, to over his legs. Then her eyes met his eyes again, only to find a knowing smile across his lips.
"Do I pass your inspection, my love?"
"You have a very beautiful body, Michael." She blushed at her choice of words.
And then he put her hand in him.
"Oh!" She took her hand away, almost afraid, when she felt him move under her hands. "You're all velvety and soft, yet hard." She said as her hand curled around his shaft.
He groaned. And then he groaned again when she withdraw her hand.
"No, let me show you, when you have it." He showed her the motions that would satisfy him.
The sound he emitted, was the one between a groan and a growl. She was amazed that her untaught hands could excite him so.
When he couldn't take it anymore, for fear of spilling his seed, he pushed her down onto the mattress. Kissing her fiercely, almost brutally. Then he slowed down. It was her first time after all, he didn't want to push things too fast. He wanted her first time to be a time to remember. And he would make sure of that.
He kissed his way down her neck, down the valley between her breasts, over her trim stomach, when he came to her waist, he stopped at her shorts.
"Are you sure?" He needed to ask, before he was carried away by the tides of pleasure, before it was too late.
She nodded vigorously, then she smiled, "I love you."
He smiled, and then kissed her tummy, making her giggle. He brought her shorts down and off to the floor. He stopped for a moment to gaze at her perfection. He still couldn't believe that he was here with her lying in only her white bikini panties, all for himself to please and devour.
In a blink of an eye, her panties were off and onto the floor.
"Michael, what are you- oh!" She gasped, as Michael caressed her jewel with his finger.
He stroked her jewel a few more times, before plunging his finger into her tight channel.
He started to thrust, in and then out, slowly, as if not to hurt her. He then thrust two fingers. She squirmed and moaned all the way while he played his magic over her with his fingers.
And then, she felt his tongue caressing her insides.
She cried out, as her climax roared over her body. When she came to her senses, he was still laying between her outstretched legs, now kissing the inside of her thighs in a sexy caress.
"I want you!" She shrieked, unable to contain her anxiety.
He kissed his way up to her neck. Opening her legs, and resting his body between them, he placed his throbbing member at her entrance.
They kissed tenderly, knowing that the ultimate pleasure was still to come.
He slowly penetrated her, inch by inch, as she moaned all the way.
She knew it was going to hurt like hell, and she braced herself.
He stopped, as he came to her barrier. "Put your arms around me." He told her quietly.
And then he plunged all the way.
She felt her barrier snap open, felt the pain almost knocking her over, felt her core as if it was ripped to shreds. She was crying now, but of happiness, they were finally one, in a way no one ever would change. She was his, as he was hers.
She gasped as she felt him thrust slightly. Digging her fingernails into his shoulders, and raising her hips in retaliation.
He came first.
Michael roared his release to the entire world, and he didn't give a danm. He thrust a few more times until she came, too.
And when she came, he was there with her, smiling, whispering sweet nothings into her burning ears, worshipping her, loving her, soothing away her pain with his tender words, with his caresses, and with his kisses.
He hugged her exhausted body against his chest, nuzzling her hair, smelling her sweet scent, over her baby soft skin. He felt like he was about to explode of happiness, knowing that he had found what he had been searching for over an entire lifetime.
Suspecting Maria was asleep by now, he held her more tightly as if trying to join their bodies as one.
"I love you." He whispered to her sleeping ears.
Maria smiled, so this wasn't a dream after all. He was there, with her. And he loved her.
She closed her eyes again, this time for good, for she knew that this time, dreams were not necessary anymore, because she had him, and she knew, that from this day on, dreams weren't needed as along as you have the real thing when you really want it . . . . . . When you're not dreaming.
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