Title:Ultra
Name:FehrKitten
Email Address:[email protected]
Installment:1/1
Classification:Michael/Maria
Rating:R
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, lyrics from Depeche Mode
Summary: House cleaning, home truths, and just a bit o' smut :)
Michael frowned when he heard a light tap at his apartment door. For
all it was his place, he hadn't had a moment's peace with all the
well-wishing and do-gooding of the Evans and DeLucas. Not that he
minded, really; it made a warm spot inside him that he liked to pretend
was not there. He rolled off of the couch where he had dropped into a
light doze, scratched his bare chest and ran his fingers through his
unruly hair. Throwing on a t-shirt that didn't even come close to
matching his boxers, he opened the door cautiously, then rolled his
eyes and groaned at the sight of Liz and Maria, disgustingly chipper at
this hour of the day. "People do sleep, you know," he grumbled, and
they laughed as they barrelled past him, arms full of cleaning supplies
and unidentifiable parcels.
"You're not people, remember, space boy?" Maria taunted him as she
and Liz dumped their cache of goodies onto the counter in the tiny
kitchen. Michael leaned against the doorway and made a face at her
back.
"I'm not a nutbar like you, either," he smarted back, ducking as she
threw a bundle of cloth at his head. He bent to pick it up and a
cutain rod caught him squarely above the ear. "Ow! Bitch!" he rubbed
his head and scowled at the giggling girls who were trying to smother
their mirth behind their hands. Liz had the decency to look contrite,
while Maria just looked mischevious.
"Here, hang up your new shower curtain," Maria handed him a box of
rings, and he hesitated before accepting them.
"I don't recall agreeing to join this misbegotten adventure you two
have embarked upon-" he stopped when he realized they were not
listening to him. They were arguing over who was going to clean the
kitchen and who got to tackle the bathroom.
"Ok, Liz, we'll flip for it. Heads, disgusting male kitchen; tails,
disgusting male alien bathroom," Maria flipped the coin and frowned.
"Rats," was all she said as she picked up a pack of sponges and some
folded towels. She brushed past Michael on her way to the bath, and
he unfolded his lanky frame from the doorway and followed her.
"'Rats'?" He laughed at her choice of words and she smacked his arm.
"Hey, easy, dork," he attempted to defend himself but with only a box
of curtain rings was not faring too well against her armload of
supplies, which happened to make handy projectiles. "Okay, okay,
uncle," he said as she bounced a sponge off the side of his head, and
she laughed at him as she turned on the hot water tap in the sink.
Michael unfolded the shower curtain and smiled as a dark blue
background with big yellow stars and moons was revealed. "You picked
this out, didn't you?" he regarded Maria with warmth in his dark eyes,
and she blushed.
Like a cat dragged in from the rain
Who goes straight back out and do it all over again
I'll be back for more
Something that is out of our hands
Something we will never understand
It's a hidden law
The apple falls
Destiny calls
I follow you
"You hate it, don't you? We can exchange it..." she trailed off as he
shook his head. Grinning at her, he turned around and started to hang
the curtain. Maria stared at his back for a moment, amazed that she'd
seen a grin from sullen, surly Michael, and bemusedly began stowing the
towels in the cabinet over the toilet.
"Got a hammer?" she queried, and he turned his head, giving her his
famous "you're out of your mind" look that he seemed to have developed
just for using on her. "Not for your thick skull, dummy, so I can
start screws to hang your towel rack," she frowned at him. Clipping
the last curtain ring into place, he stepped back to admire his
handiwork, then shooting her The Look again, left the bathroom to hunt
up tools.
Liz was scrubbing the backsplash over the stove when Michael entered
the kitchen, moving so quietly that he startled her. She jumped, eyes
wide as she regarded him, and he quirked a brow at her as he reached
out and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "Thanks,"
her voice was breathy with nervousness because she'd never really been
alone with Michael in such close quarters. He leaned closer to her,
his dark eyes studying her solemnly as he reached around her and slid
open a drawer right behind her. She could feel his breath against her
face, that's how close he was, and he pulled some things out of the
drawer before backing up.
"Towel bar," he explained dryly, trying to smother a smirk, and she
grinned, picturing Maria bodily wrestling his bathroom into shape.
Michael couldn't stifle an answering smile, and they shared a laugh
that broke the tension.
"I hear laughing, and laughing isn't working," Maria's voice floated
into the kitchen. Liz mimed cracking a whip and Michael headed back
into the bathroom.
"Towel bar patrol reporting for duty, sir," he cracked as he
reappeared in the doorway, and Maria scowled at him. "Are you sure
it's safe to give you this?" he held the hammer up, out of her reach,
and she poked him none too gently in the ribs.
"Give," she growled, "and move your alien carcass out of my way."
Michael knew when to fold and he handed her the supplies, backing
carefully out and returning to his nice comfy couch.
***
He awoke feeling fuzzy headed and got up, wandering into the kitchen.
Liz was no longer in there, but the kitchen sparkled with cleanliness
and smelled like lemons, and they had put up a wallpaper border with
fruits on it that really brightened it up. "Wow," he said aloud,
impressed.
"Oh, you're awake," came from his bedroom, and he headed down the
short hallway, pausing to inspect Maria's handiwork in the bathroom.
"Um," he wondered if he had stepped into the wrong apartment. His
dim, grungy bathroom had been replaced with a clean, bright one with
royal blue and goldenrod towels, washcloths and accessories, matching
wallpaper border, new towel bars and cup holders, and a nice clean
mirror. Maria walked out of the bedroom, an expectant look on her
face, and he regarded her with amazement.
"You did all this?" He hadn't meant it to sound the way it did, but
she only arched a brow at him before replying.
"No, we contracted with the shoemaker's elves to come in and clean
while we had tea and crumpets. Of course we did all this, you
goofball. Now get, I'm not through in here." Maria turned him back
around and nudged him towards the living room with a gentle shove.
Obediently, he went, a smile that he did not let her see playing about
his lips. He flicked on the tv and flipped for a bit, but quickly grew
bored and turned it back off. He could hear Maria humming softly,
occasionally singing as she worked, and suddenly he wanted to watch
her face as she sang. He hesitated, debating joining her in the
bedroom. Although he refused to admit it, he sometimes found her an
enjoyable companion. She was a light that beat back the darkness
inside of him quite effectively, and though he tried to avoid it, she
effortlessly mesmerized him.
"Ok, Liz, why did you leave me alone with her when I'm putty in her
little new-age aromatherapy-loving hands," he muttered, and Maria's
singing trailed off as she poked her head around the bedroom door.
"Did you say something?" she asked, her hazel-green eyes fixed on his
dark ones, a streak of dirt on her ivory cheek and cobwebs in her hair
making her adorable, making him want to be close to her all the more.
Like a pawn on the eternal board
Who's never quite sure what he's moved towards
I walk blindly on
And heaven is in front of me
Your heaven beckons me enticingly
When I arrive it's gone
The river flows
The wise man knows
I follow you
"No," he answered, regarding her with amusement in his eyes. "Well,
nothing important," he amended as he rose from the couch and ambled
into the bedroom, surveying her handiwork. There were candles and a
few collectibles on the furniture. Maria had gathered up some things
she hoped he'd like in an attempt to make the apartment feel homey. He
examined a pair of sterling silver cat figurines on the dresser, and a
lucite double frame with a picture of him and Max on one side, and
Isabel, Maria and Liz on the other. Turning to the bureau, he noticed
a hand-crocheted doily with a collection of polished stones scattered
around the base of a brass candlestick centered on it.
"No aliens?" he teased Maria, and she immediately looked guilty.
"Where?" he demanded, and she slid open a drawer to reveal little green
cloth alien figures. "What-" he began, but she thrust one under his
nose and he inhaled, smelling vanilla. "Oh. Sachets. Well, at least
you did not pick any foo-foo scents." He handed the little figure back
to her and felt a jolt when their fingers touched. She blushed and
looked down, hastily tucking the alien back into the drawer and sliding
it shut.
Michael watched her as she turned away from him on the pretense of
straightening some things in the closet, but he saw the slight quiver
in her hands and knew she felt the same attraction he did. It always
crackled in the air between them. "Maria," he began hesitantly, and
his mouth grew dry when she faced him, eyes questioning. "I don't, I
mean, you guys didn't have to do all this for me," he struggled with
how to say thank you, and she smiled.
"We did if we wanted to come visit and not be completely grossed out,"
she teased gently, cocking her head and gazing fondly up at him. "Just
wait til we paint." His eyes grew wide and he started to speak, but
she silenced him with a stern look that dared him to argue. "Would you
shut up and let people do something for you for once?" she asked,
rhetorically.
Knowing he was playing with fire, Michael reached out and gently ran
his thumb across her soft cheek, removing the smudge from her flawless
skin. "You had some dirt..." he trailed off as he ran his fingers
through her silky locks, pulling the cobwebs free. "...and spider
webs," he stopped talking when his eyes met hers, and they shared a
long, heated look.
Maria was the first to move away. "Um," she said, "almost finished in
here." She pulled a fabric bundle out of a bag and shook it out in
preparation to hanging. Michael tagged it from her hands, trying to
look at it, and she swatted him. "Gimme that! You aren't supposed to
be looking til I'm through!"
"Wrestle you for it," he smiled devilishly at her, holding it out of
her reach, and she narrowed her eyes, assessing the situation.
"Nope, you're taller than me, not a fair fight," she decided, and as
his face fell, she added, "Plus you're a pro wrestler, remember?"
Michael smiled at her and tossed the tapestry aside. He advanced on
her, wrapping his arms around her, backing her up against the dresser.
"Michael," she laughed, "what are you doing?" Her laughter died as he
held her at arms length, surveying her intently.
I'm yearning I'm burning
I feel love's wheels turning
Like a moth on love's bright light
I will get burned each and every night
I'm dying to
The sun will shine
The bottom line
I follow you
He looked at her, all golden hair and ivory skin with a nice pink
blush spreading slowly over her cheeks and chest, and his heart felt
like it might burst under the pressure of all he was feeling. Lifting
her, he perched her on the dresser and pressed closely against her, his
arousal burning against her lower belly through the thin material of
his boxers. "So you're my number one fan, right?" his face was mere
centimeters from hers and she could feel his warm breath against her
lips. Their gazes locked, deep brown and blue-green, both full of
naked emotion.
"I always have been, Michael," she replied softly, and the sound of
his name on her lips made him tingle all over. Cupping her face in his
hands, he leaned in and kissed her softly, a delicate brush of his lips
against hers. Fire ignited in his lower belly and suddenly he could
not be close enough to her.
"I know, and I don't deserve you," he murmured against her lips, and
jumped back when he felt a sharp smack on his back end. Maria glared
at him with genuine anger, and he said, "What??"
"I don't ever, EVER want to hear you say that again, Michael Guerin!
That is SO selfish!" Tears were shimmering in her eyes, threatening to
fall, and the ferocity of her emotions made her voice tremble.
Agitated, she jumped down from the dresser and pushed past him,
snatching up the tapestry and clutching it almost as a barrier between
them.
"How is that selfish?" he tried his best to keep his voice level, but
he was frustrated both sexually and emotionally, and he wanted nothing
more at that moment than to be back behind his stone wall before this
fireball that was Maria had invaded his heart and his mind, and made
him feel.
"What in God's name makes YOU think you have the right to make those
kinds of judgements for other people? That YOU have the right to
dictate how much people can care about you? To love you?" Her voice
trembled over the word "love" but she continued on. "You want to just
walk around going 'oh terrible unlovable me' when people around you are
trying to be there for you, and when you keep thinking what you think
about yourself you might as well spit in their faces and tell them to
go to hell! It's like you are hearing them say 'we care' and going
'so? doesn't even chip my STONE WALL'!" Pacing agitatedly, she tossed
the tapestry aside and gestured wildly in her frustration, something so
familiarly Maria that he almost smiled. She turned on him, her
expression demanding that he justify himself somehow.
"Maria, calm down, please." His expression was faintly pleading, and
at her scowl he tried to explain further. "I can't think straight when
you're yelling at me."
She quieted, her face showing that she conceded that he had a point,
and she said, "Do you understand what I am trying to say? By clinging
to the way you've always felt about yourself, in the face of all of us
here trying to care for your prickly ass, you deny us. You write us
off, it's like nothing we say or do has touched you at all." The tears
that had threatened her eyes finally spilled onto her fair cheeks, and
he felt his heart twist a little at that sight.
Picking up the tapestry from the bed where it had landed, Michael
absently smoothed the fabric through his fingers as his mind raced.
What to say, he wondered, not wanting to set volatile Maria off again,
not wanting to make her cry. You're always making her cry, he told
himself. "You're right," he said, and she just looked at him. "You're
right and I'm sorry." She wiped at her tears and a smile curved the
corner of his mouth as he offered her the tapestry. A choked laugh
escaped her and she swatted him lightly.
"Tell me where it goes and I'll hang it," he offered, and she pointed
at the hangers already mounted on the wall. He stood on tiptoe to hang
it and smoothed it against the wall before stepping back to stand
beside Maria and look at it. "Oh," he said softly, stunned. Van
Gogh's "Starry Night" confronted him, and he looked down at Maria, who
was studiously avoiding his gaze.
"I thought you might like it," she said softly, and he quickly
assured her that he did.
"It's not what I would have expected from you, though," he teased
gently, and she snorted. Marching to the light switch, she flicked
out the light, leaving only the glow of a couple of scented candles she
had burning in wall sconces...and the soft radiance of the
phosphorescence-treated stars on the hanging fabric. "I should have
known," he chuckled, moving to recapture her with his embrace. She
looks gorgeous in candlelight, he thought to himself, rose and gold,
and remembering what she had just said to him in her heartfelt tirade,
cleared his throat and awkwardly said, "The way your skin looks in this
light...I'd like to paint you."
Maria thought her heart was going to burst with happiness. Simple
words, true, but from Michael they were priceless to her. "Michael,"
she breathed, turning her face up to his to be kissed, and were all the
demons of his past tugging at him right then, he still could not have
stopped. Electricity flared between them, incandescent, as their lips
touched.
I'm yearning I'm burning
I feel love's wheels turning
Like a moth on love's bright light
I will get burned each and every night
I'm dying to(o)
The sun will shine
The bottom line
I follow you
"I can't stop," his voice was a husky rasp that sent thrills coursing
along her spine. "Maria..." His hands molded her petite frame against
his larger one, fingers seeking skin. They parted long enough for him
to impatiently strip her shirt off over her head, followed by his own,
and heat from the contact of bare skin practically sizzled.
He cupped her breasts in his hands and traced a line with his tongue
from her cleavage up to her throat, then sought her mouth in a deep
kiss. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in
the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He lifted her in his strong
arms, carrying her to his bed. They tumbled to the bed in disarray,
kissing and touching, and Michael rolled Maria over atop him, smoothing
his hands down her sides, urging her hips more tightly against him,
wanting to be inside her. "I need you," he whispered softly against
her lips, and felt her answering smile.
"Thank you," she whispered back.
Michael smiled at her and asked, "What for?" His smile faded and his
eyes closed as she ran her hands up his legs, under his boxers, to the
junction of his thighs in a gentle caress. "Mm, that feels
incredible," his voice was husky with desire. Rolling her over onto
her back, he kissed her softly on the lips, and began to slowly trail
kisses and little nips down her body. She tangled her fingers in his
hair and relaxed with a sigh of contentment, enjoying the sweet fire
coursing through her body with every touch of Michael's hands and
mouth. A soft protest issued from her throat when he briefly pulled
away, but he simply eased the rest of her garments off of her, then
reversed position and continued his loving attention over her legs and
down to her feet.
Maria smiled when Michael's warm hand closed over her foot and she
gasped in surprise at the sensation of his tongue tracing a delicate
line over her ankle and arch. He chuckled when she twitched, and
pulled her firmly against him. "Ticklish?" he queried, drawing his
fingertip over the sole of her foot, and she shrieked and tried to pull
away. Laughing, he refused to release her and they wrestled briefly,
ending up with Michael wrapping his arms firmly around her knees,
trapping her on her back and blowing raspberries on her clenched
thighs.
"Michael, stop it!" Maria shrieked, helpless with laughter at seeing
him relax enough to be silly with her.
"That's it, baby, beg for more," he teased, and she grabbed his back
as she tried to wiggle free. Her struggles unbalanced him and he came
down with his knees on either side of her head. "Um," his motion
stilled as he realized the intimacy of their position. All at once he
was keenly aware of her bare skin again his chest, her hands tracing
delicate patterns on his back, and the warmth of her breath as she
turned her head and eyed his obvious arousal. He took a deep breath
to clear his head and it didn't help because his senses were
overwhelmed with roses and Maria. Powerless to stop himself, he
lowered his head and placed soft kisses in a line, working his way
slowly up her thighs. She felt his warm breath caress her mound just
before he dipped his tongue between her legs, and a soft moan left her
throat as she melted into liquid fire. He eased her thighs apart,
exposing her beautiful femininity to his gaze and touch, and he
explored with his lips and tongue, learning just what motion where
drew the soft sounds of delight from her that he loved so much.
Maria struggled to keep some semblance of rational thought, but what
Michael was doing felt so good that she was having trouble. She tugged
on the waist of his boxers, and they performed an interesting series
of acrobatics trying to get his boxers off without his mouth moving
away from her. She could feel the warmth radiating from his arousal,
so close to her cheek, and she turned her head to look at him. She
trailed her fingers delicately over his length and grasped him gently,
and felt his body quiver in response. Delighted with this sudden
power, she decided to reciprocate his explorations and she touched her
tongue lightly to his tip. He groaned softly, his hips moving
reflexively with her hand stroking him, and she ran her hands lightly
over his chest and flat belly, marveling at his beauty, before grasping
him firmly and slowly easing him into her mouth.
Michael's head was spinning. Maria's mouth felt so damned good, and
this was something he had thought about, but wasn't exactly something
you could ask of someone you had been trying your hardest to not feel
anything for. Her fingers wandered over his back and the curve of his
rear, sliding smoothly over his lean hip to tangle softly in the nest
of hair between his legs, and her other hand gently worked his shaft
in rhythm with her sweet, sweet mouth. Her pace grew faster, soft
moans escaping her as his attentions brought her closer and closer to
the edge, and when she fell, he fell with her.
The sun will shine
The bottom line
I follow you
***
"Oh! The door wasn't locked, I'm so sorry-" Liz backed out of the
room, cheeks crimson. Michael's laugh woke Maria, and she blinked
sleepily at him.
He explained, "I think we just shocked Liz into grey hair," and a
slow smile spread across Maria's face. "Michael Guerin, those are
brand new sheets!" he mimicked Maria at her most obnoxious, and they
both laughed. Sobering, he gazed intently at her, stroking her face,
and started to speak.
Maria silenced him with a gentle finger on his lips, and said, "I
know."