|"Fantasies & Fireworks"
Disclaimer: When my evil plan to marry a WB executive
and take over the show comes to fruition, it will all
be mine. Until then… I do not own anything.
Category: After Hours
|Max lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his
room. The house was quiet, but he could hear the
distant sounds of celebration as everyone in Roswell
joined in the July 4th festivities. Today marked a
special event in his life, too, but it wasn’t one he
cared to celebrate.
…tap, tap, tap…
His head swiveled to the window. He and Michael hadn’t made any plans, but of course that had never stopped Michael from dropping in unexpectedly before. Max sat up with a scowl, crossed to the window and pushed the curtain aside.
“Liz.” The smile left his face almost immediately. Why would Liz come to his window rather than the door? Something must be wrong. He held his arms out to her and helped her through the window.
Liz caught his expression. “Everything’s fine, Max.”
He sighed. “Good. But then, what are you doing here? I thought you had to work late.”
Liz looked down at her waitress uniform and gave him a rueful smile. “I do. I’m on break. Of course I used most of my break just coming over here, but I don’t care. I’ll just have to be late getting back.” She smiled at his questioning look. “It’s important to keep one’s priorities straight.”
“Uh huh, and serving up space dogs and apple pie to the teeming masses is not a priority?”
“Not tonight.” She sidled up to him, openly flirting, as she slipped her arms around his waist. “I have other things on my mind tonight.”
Max slid his own arms around her. “And what would those things be?”
Liz raised herself on her toes and pressed her mouth against his ear. “An alien blast,” she whispered.
Max placed one hand against her cheek and gently guided her face to his. Liz settled back on her feet and met his hot gaze just before he lowered his mouth to hers.
The heat was instantaneous… like pouring gasoline on an already burning fire. Arms and tongues entangled. Short gasps of air only taken when they shifted to new positions, striving to get deeper, to meld into one.
Cool fingers brushing her bare stomach. When did he open her uniform? Maybe she did it. Her own fingers scrabbled to find the hem of his t-shirt. She slid her hands up, reveling in the feel of his warm smooth skin. She brushed her fingers lightly over the ticklish spot just under his left rib. He sucked in but didn’t pull away, didn’t release her mouth from his. He grasped her hips, pulling her closer, bumping against her, grinding for just a moment. Her nails scraped against his right nipple. He moaned into her mouth as she lightly pinched it between her thumb and index finger, rolling and squeezing.
His mouth left a trail of hot, wet kisses down her neck and across her collarbone as his hands slid over her shoulders, pushing her uniform back. The dress fell, catching in the crook of her elbows, restricting the movement of her arms. Max wrapped his arms loosely around her, supporting her as she arched back. He nuzzled the delicate skin at the top of her breasts, then lower, until he placed a light kiss on her nipple. It was taut, straining against the satin of her bra. Max rolled his tongue around it, wetting the fabric, then finally drew it into his mouth. He sucked once, twice, then settled his teeth around it and pulled as the tip of his tongue flicked over the nub.
It was electroshock therapy. Positive and negative shooting through her body, making her limbs quiver, her mind go numb. Then the heat was gone from her breast and was back at her mouth. Tongue probing, reaching, his hands buried in her hair. And then her uniform was gone, in a heap at her feet. She reached, pulled upward. His fingers tangled with hers. And then there was a bare expanse of skin before her.
Beautiful dark nipples, tiny points jutting out from his hard chest. She swept one hand across his skin, fascinated by it, marveling at the trail of goosebumps left behind. She raised her eyes to his in wonder and he answered her by crushing her mouth with his. She gripped the waistband of his jeans and pushed. He backed up a couple of steps and she followed, stumbling over her uniform. She pushed him against the wall.
“You might need to lean against this.” She smiled against his lips as she reached for the snap on his jeans.
He grabbed her hand, stilling it before she could lower the zipper. “What are you doing?” His voice raw, rasping.
She cocked her head to the side. “What does it look like I’m doing?” She gripped the zipper, eyes filled with playfulness as she smiled up at him. She jerked the zipper an inch lower, purposely bumping the hard bulge beneath her hand.
“Liz, you have to stop. I… you just have to stop,” Max pleaded as he tried to pull her hand away again.
“Why?” She asked with a slight pout. “We always stop when we get to this point. I think it’s time to go a little further, Max. Or, aren’t you interested in … getting to know me better?”
“You know I am, but—“
“It’s a holiday, Max.” She tugged the zipper down the rest of the way as she dropped to her knees. “You should see some fireworks.”
Liz tugged on his jeans, pulling them past his hips. After a moment’s hesitation, Max helped her. She eased the boxers over his erection, being careful to not let it get caught in the waistband.
Liz had never actually seen this part of Max before. She had felt him plenty of times. The hard bulge pressed to her hip bone or rocking against her thigh during their more intense makeout sessions. And she liked to drive him crazy sometimes by brushing her hand across the front of his jeans, sometimes adding just a bit of pressure to her touch. But Max never let her actually touch him beneath his clothes. He was too afraid of getting caught up in the moment, of not being able to stop.
Liz took the opportunity to look him over now. His cock stood straight out from his body and it looked… enticing. She could imagine it sliding into her, forcing her muscles to stretch around him, filling her with a delicious pain. She licked her lips.
Max tightened his jaw. She had no idea what she was doing to him, he could tell. She wasn’t trying to make him suffer on purpose. But the way she just stared, so unabashedly. Oh god, she licked her lips. Max let his head hit the wall behind him with a thump. Liz was some sort of… he didn’t know, some kind of mythological creature that caused men to explode from sexual frustration. Why was he letting her do this? His cock twitched.
Liz’s eyes widened. She looked up at him in surprise. “It moved.” She dropped her eyes back to his strangely affected anatomy and grinned.
Max wanted to clasp her head in his hands and—
Liz tentatively let one index finger glide from the tip up to the base, her eyes trained on his face, watching his reaction. He bit his lip. She smiled and reversed the direction, sliding her finger back to the tip. She cradled the length in one hand and used the other to softly stroke him, like she was petting a cat. “I’ve never done this before, Max. What would you like me to do?”
She looked up at him with a small smile, but Max could detect a trace of hurt in her eyes.
He looked into her eyes. “No,” he whispered.
She dropped her gaze and made a tiny sound of awe. Fluid was starting to seep out, glistening at the tip. She swirled her finger over it, spreading it out over the head. She leaned forward and exhaled a long warm breath.
Max swallowed hard. The pressure was becoming painful.
“You still haven’t told me what I should do.” Her voice was warm and silky.
He forced his throat to open, his diaphragm to push the air up and through his mouth. “All I ask is that you don’t bite it off.”
Liz giggled. “I’ll do my best not to.”
Her laugh was infectious and Max chuckled tightly. “I appreciate that.”
Liz leaned forward again, her mind racing, trying to figure out her next move. She tilted her head a bit and pulled her tongue up along the side of his cock. Max emitted a quiet moan. That was a good start, but Liz wanted more.
She rolled her tongue around the head and pulled it into her mouth, drawing on it briefly. She was rewarded with another groan and Max caressing her shoulders. Still not enough. Liz had heard things, read things, about men twining the woman’s hair through their hands, calling their names, hips thrusting uncontrollably. That’s what she wanted. She wanted Max to fuck her mouth.
She pulled back and rubbed her cheek against his hardness, trying to subtly gauge how much she could hold in her mouth without gagging. She settled his head between her rounded lips, took a deep breath and slid her head forward. She only got about half of his length in her mouth, but she was afraid to go any further. She closed her lips more firmly around him and gradually drew her head back, pulling against him as she went.
Max stiffened as Liz pulled hard against him. He felt something deep inside him tighten, push up just a little. It was intense. He wanted to feel it again.
Max’s hands sought her out, blindly reaching. He caressed her, stroking her hair as her head descended again.
Liz smiled with satisfaction as his hands swept through her hair. She slid as much of him as she could into her mouth. Her throat began to tighten as the head of his penis bumped against the back curve on the roof of her mouth. She exhaled slowly, forcing her throat to relax, and slid forward a fraction more, easing him deeper into her. She paused, working her tongue along the bottom of his shaft, pulling against him twice, like she was drinking through a straw, then, keeping her mouth tight around him, she pulled back again.
Max whimpered as the heat of Liz’s mouth was replaced with the cool air of his room. He looked down at her. She was gazing up at him, chest rising up and down as her breathing escalated with her own excitement. There was a question in her eyes.
Max gently guided her head closer to him. “Don’t stop, Liz. Please.”
“First, let’s get these out of the way.” She helped him step out of his jeans and boxers, which had pooled around his ankles. She shoved them out of the way, then gripped his legs in both hands, pulling herself close against them, fitting herself neatly between his legs. She pressed a breast against his thigh, moaning as her nipple hardened even more from the friction. She laid open kisses on his hips, his stomach… her mouth was everywhere but…
Max sighed as Liz wrapped her warm, wet mouth around him again. She was making love to him, swirling her tongue around, like it was his tongue in her mouth instead of…
“Aah.” It was more of a sharp intake of breath, a response, rather than actual speech, as Liz gently scraped her teeth up his length. He arched against her, pushing his way back into her mouth. Another reaction without conscious thought.
Liz braced one hand near the base of his cock and gripped his hip with the other as she started bobbing her head in a slow rhythm. Taking him in a little deeper each time, pulling against him a little harder, she gradually increased the speed of her movements.
Max thrust once. He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to force himself too far down her throat, but the feeling was so incredible. It must be what being in the womb is like: surrounded by wetness and warmth and love.
He looked down at Liz. Her eyes were closed, lost in what she was doing. Doing for him… to him. His hips thrust again. He forced them to still and waited for Liz to back away. Instead, she moaned deep in her throat, never slackening her pace. Her fingers dug into his hip, urging him forward again.
Urging him forward? Max watched as Liz’s head moved back and forth, his cock disappearing and reappearing from the heaven of her mouth. He never in his wildest fantasies about her… well, maybe in his * wildest *… but he had never pictured it like this. Had never imagined how good it would really feel, how beautiful Liz looked doing it, that she would want him to… he twined his fingers through her hair, once again fighting the urge to just grab her head… but she wanted him to let go. He could feel her little fingers pressing bruises into his hip. And he wanted to. God…
“Liz,” he cried, as one more barrier broke. His hips rocked forward now, matching her pace. Liz stilled her own movements. Both hands clutched him now, hanging on. She never released the tension of her mouth, keeping her lips wrapped tightly around him, as he pushed into her and pulled back out.
Liz wanted to scream and cry and laugh and dance around the room. All of the plans she had made over the last few days were actually working. She would gloat later, in private, right now she needed to keep her mind on other things. Like keeping her tongue in that position that she discovered kept Max from going too far down her throat.
Max was lost. Lost in the pleasure that radiated from Liz’s mouth and spread throughout his body. Lost in the pressure, the immense tightening deep within him. He was sure he would explode, combust, but he didn’t care.
He gripped Liz’s head tighter, holding her closer as his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding against one another. He couldn’t breathe. The pressure was so great he couldn’t breathe. But he could feel the pressure was close to releasing, he just had to reach for it…
Max’s eyes flew open as he suddenly realized what he was doing. What he was about to do. He pulled himself back sharply, nearly crying out from the shock of the cold air.
“No.” Liz reached for him, feeling the loss as much as he did. She pulled him toward her again.
At the last moment, Max grabbed her shoulders and pulled her tight against him, holding her head against his stomach as tremors shook his body.
A sudden shot of warmth hit Liz on her upper chest, near the hollow of her throat. Max ground himself against her chest, their skin gliding effortlessly over each other, both of them now slick.
Liz tilted her head back, looking up at him. He returned her gaze. Neither of them spoke.
Liz sat back. She looked down at herself. Her skin glistened. She lifted her eyes back to his as she slid the tip of her index finger across her chest, then brought it to her lips.
Max watched her silently as she daintily licked her finger. She swallowed. And smiled. Liz reached for his hand. He let her guide his own finger to where some of the milky-white fluid had settled over her right breast. She released his hand and waited. He met her eyes for an instant and then dropped his back to her chest. He dipped his finger and raised it to her lips.
Max’s eyes moved back and forth from Liz’s steady gaze to her mouth as she took his finger in her mouth and sucked and swallowed.
Max didn’t think it was possible, but he felt the pull deep within him again and knew that he was getting hard. He licked his own lips as Liz continued to pull at his finger. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her mouth, at how her lips were pursed around his finger, steadily drawing against it even as she pulled away. She finally released it, but his eyes continued to follow her mouth as she sat back, getting further away from him. He followed her, leaning forward, closing the distance, until his lips found hers. Their tongues swept against each other briefly.
“We’d better stop.” His voice was hoarse, not his own. “Or you’ll never get back to work,” he added with a smile.
She nodded, the smile in her eyes denying her otherwise solemn expression.
Max reached for the towel draped carelessly over his desk chair. It was still slightly damp from the shower he had taken earlier. He scooted close to Liz, pulling her sideways between his legs. He drew one knee up, so she could lean back against his leg, as he gently swiped the towel across her chest and throat.
He dropped the towel and traced his fingers over her cheekbone and down her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his as he lowered his mouth to hers again.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.
“I love you, too,” she answered.
“And thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Max. I didn’t do anything that I didn’t want to.”
“Okay. Then, how about if I return the favor sometime?”
She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I fully expect you to.”
He walked her to her car and watched as she drove down the street. Then he lifted his eyes to the fireworks going off at the edge of town. Fifty-three years ago on this night he had lost everything that told him who he was, he had lost his family, lost the people who knew him. He knew that was why Liz had come here tonight. To help him put aside things that couldn’t be changed, if just for a little while. To give him more pleasant memories of this night to stand next to the painful ones.
It wasn’t necessary. He would always wonder about that night. What really happened. If his parents had been on the ship, been amongst those that died. If they had been the ones to hide he and Michael and Isabel, trying to protect them. But in the last few months he had gained back much of what he had lost. He had people, besides Michael and Isabel, who knew him, who cared about him. Who loved him. He had enough pleasant memories to banish the hurtful ones.
But one more couldn’t hurt.
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