#post-canon michael guerin will love him the way he deserves to be loved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haloud · 3 years

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things we could burn in one go (eminence) -- chapter 10

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Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Alex and Forrest struggle to understand each other in the wake of their breakup; Alex makes a shocking discovery at the Long farm.

Excerpt:

The corner of Forrest’s mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. “No serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.”

It was true; Alex had come here empty-handed, the way he brought himself to every step of their relationship. All the things he had inside him, all the things he had to give, he’d failed to deliver any of them in a way that Forrest needed. He’d made do with illusions, convincing ones, convincing enough to fool even himself into thinking he was built any other way than this. He was a problem-solver, a provider; it was bitter medicine to learn that brute-forcing himself into the proper shape for someone else only hurt everyone involved.

Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Forrest shook his head. “Honestly, I’m just kind of surprised you’re even here. I thought I’d be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

“I took a half day,” Alex replied. He’d taken tomorrow off as well to prepare for their planning session, but Forrest didn’t need to know that. “I didn’t want to make either of us wait. Not for this.”

(Wednesday, 14:00)

The Long family home was leagues from the old barn and the fallen tree, but an odd sort of almost-nostalgia sloshed in Alex’s stomach as he approached the house all the same. He had only been back here a few times since he and Forrest met; it wasn’t a part of their relationship; it was more convenient to spend their time at Alex’s, where there was no one to bother them. When they spent the night together, it was in Alex’s bed, and the sex they had was there too, unless Forrest knew for sure Wyatt was gone and not coming back. That thought only made it stranger, how Alex had never quite gotten used to sharing his space with him, sharing a bed, sharing a life. For the thousandth time he wondered what was wrong with him, but he took a deep breath and cut that feeling loose and let it float away. What good was a question with no answer to him now? It was a search he’d never finish, and he would have to learn to live with it.

It felt wrong to leave something before it was finished. To turn his back on a piece of himself before examining every inch of it under the light, to cut loose a string without following it to its end and seeing where it led. But to force it would only make things worse, and he’d done enough of that already.

By the time Alex parked, shut off his car, and gathered his willpower to approach the house, the door was open, and Forrest was waiting for him on the porch. He looked…great. Normal. He’d touched up his hair; his eyes were well-rested and sharp; his fingers and neck dripped with jewelry, and Alex could recognize the look for the armor it was. His own leather jacket was a solid weight across his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said with an awkward wave.

The corner of Forrest’s mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. “No serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.”

Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Forrest shook his head. “Honestly, I’m just kind of surprised you’re even here. I thought I’d be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

Forrest just snorted and moved aside, sitting in a rocking chair and nudging the one beside it with his foot. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

Sitting, they were silent for a while, the world peaceful around them—birds chirping, sun shining, the whole nine yards. Alex watched a small lizard creep across the dirt below the porch railing until it disappeared beneath the house.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you about Michael. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry for how I acted and the things I said.”

He swallowed, grimaced, almost, the words juvenile and inadequate to his own ears.

“About Michael staying with you, or…about Michael,” Forrest replied, guarded.

“The first one. Well—both, as it turns out. I thought…I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m sorry for not telling you that Michael was staying over; that was shitty, I knew the whole time it was shitty, and I did it anyway because I didn’t want to fight. But at the same time, I had no idea you were worried about, well, me cheating on you.”

Sighing, Forrest said, “I told you, man. Unfinished business. It’s kind of visible from space. Before this, I wouldn’t even have thought I was a jealous person, can you believe that? I should have said something to you, but I thought I could just power through it.”

“I guess we both learned things about ourselves,” Alex said wryly. “I didn’t think I had anything to hide, but when it came time to say something about Michael to you, I just clammed up. Would I have felt that way if it was Kyle staying over? Probably not. But I wasn’t thinking about it like that.”

“Huh.” Forrest paused. He rocked his chair slowly forward and back, hands folded on his stomach.

“Did I act weird? Shifty, like I was hiding something?” Alex asked, awkward and vulnerable, embarrassed at how poorly he knew himself, how poorly he knew how he should have acted to not even know that much.

“No, not really. Well, you were pretty distant, but,” he shrugged, “there’s nothing wrong with needing space. It was just…you know, you sang that song at the Pony when we got together, and I had an inkling it was about Guerin, but for some reason I thought I could handle it. Dating a guy who was in love with someone else, who was trying to move on. But it didn’t work like that, huh.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex repeated weakly. “I really thought I was ready. I didn’t mean to lie to you; mostly I was lying to myself. But I know it doesn’t make it any better.”

“Can I ask you a question? Point blank?”

“Um, sure. Go ahead.”

“Were you cheating on me with Guerin?”

“No.” That, at least, he could say firm and clear.

Forrest took a deep breath, dropped his eyes, then looked out across the desert. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.”

Briefly, Alex had to push down the urge to lash out defensively like he had during their previous fight. Had he really done so much to deserve that scrutiny while they were together?

“Thank you,” he said, not sure of what else needed to be.

“I appreciate you coming here and being honest. I mean…it still kind of stings for things to end this way, but. I do appreciate it. And, well, I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“Showing up and exploding like that without giving you some warning. I mean, I’m kind of not sorry it brought things to a head in the end, but it was still rude.”

“No, I should’ve—”

Forrest held up a hand to stall Alex. “No, seriously, dude. The martyr act is cute, but I’m a big boy. Your house is covered in cameras, and you need like two weeks of warning for a coffee date; I knew better than to think showing up like that would be a cute surprise.”

“Oh. Um.” Alex floundered for a way to respond to that. He felt seen, pinned under the lamp of an insight he hadn’t known Forrest had. It was itchy.

“Um, thanks. For the apology. And I get what you mean, about being sorry it happened but not sorry that…well. I really am sorry it ended this way.” If not that it was ending at all.

“Are you?” Forrest raised an eyebrow. “You’re a free agent now. I half-expect Guerin to send me flowers by Saturday.”

Alex winced. But still, he said, “Okay, that’s fair. We kind of, um…”

Forrest let out an ugly snort. “You know, most people double check after a fight like that. Damn, I’m glad I was already planning on breaking up with you for good if you hadn’t gotten the message.”

“I…I know. The way it happened, it just…” Alex sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “I won’t make excuses. You have every right to be mad.”

“I am mad. And hurt,” Forrest said matter-of-factly. “But maybe not as much as I thought I’d be, once the shock cooled off.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah.” A smile flickered on Forrest’s mouth, and he shrugged. “Looking back on it, it kind of feels like we’d been forcing it for a while, huh.”

Alex matched him hesitant smile for hesitant smile. Between them there were stacks of stilted conversations and unmade plans, awkward mornings and missed connections. From the morning Fields barged into Alex’s life to the moment he thought he saw his brother at the airport, in the past few weeks there were a number of times Alex had found himself unable to reach out across a gap and meet Forrest there. He’d thought it was just something wrong with him; it was an unbelievable relief to find that Forrest felt the same.

“You might be right,” he confessed.

“Yeah, I think I am,” Forrest sighed. “Damn. That’s probably why my head went straight to cheating.”

“You don’t have to find a way to even that scale,” Alex replied, shaking his head. “I was wrong; I won’t back down from that. But Michael aside, I never wanted to hurt you, Forrest. And I’m sorry I did.”

Forrest chewed on his lip, an old nervous habit. He had a pinprick scar just there, a souvenir from a piercing he’d grown out of, and when Alex would kiss him there, he’d smile. Alex was walking away from this with warm memories, sweet new patterns in the weaving of his life, unexpected treasures. And that in itself was something to cherish, no matter how much their relationship faded into history.

“Yeah, well, same here.”

“You didn’t hurt me, now you’re the one trying to even the scale—” Alex protested.

Forrest cut him off. “I like you, Alex, and I liked our jam sessions, and you made my time in Roswell suck so much less than I thought it would. But there’s a universe where we’re sitting on opposite ends of this, because my book is way more almost done than I’d let on to you just yet, so. Thanks for being such an almost-two-timing emotionally constipated jerk so when I tell my friends this story five years from now I can totally get all the sympathy.”

Alex let out a surprised snort that turned into laughter, and Forrest joined him, if a little more subdued than he’d normally be.

When they collected themselves, Forrest wiped some wetness away from his eyes and said, “Seriously, though, Alex, I hope he makes you happy. Because I don’t think we did that for each other, in the long run.”

“I hope that for you, too, Forrest,” Alex replied softly. “You deserve someone way less fucked up than me.”

“Nah, cut that crap out. We’re all a little bit fucked up.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“It is true. You, me, whoever I date next. My old granny,” he said with the first true smile of the afternoon. “And Guerin, too.”

His smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared, and he leaned forward, reaching out and putting his hand on Alex’s knee; Alex almost shied away, but he forced himself to stay still.

“I just want to make sure,” Forrest said, voice gentle—a gentleness Alex didn’t trust. His composure broke, and he drew back, the slight movement causing Forrest to drop his hand. He continued, “Guerin…he’s what you want? Truly, this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Alex snapped, no hesitation.

“Okay. Just, if you’re sure. If this is really your choice.”

Alex’s patience ripped clean in two. “I know the two of you spent some time together at the library,” he said, voice level and deliberate, “but from what I can tell, you don’t know him at all, so spare me this paternalism, okay? I can make my own choices. Whatever assumptions you’re making—”

“Okay! Okay.” Forrest held his hands up in surrender, but it did nothing to cool Alex’s temper. “I just had to ask.”

“Well, there’s your answer.”

“Noted.”

Alex stood stiffly, and Forrest followed just a second behind. They stood and stared at each other for a few seconds, Alex waiting for him to make a move, Forrest waiting for something Alex couldn’t figure.

Then Forrest stuck out his hand. In the same motion, Alex half-turned, made himself sideways, a smaller target, flowing out of the path if that hand continued forward in a blow. But no, it stayed still halfway between them. Forrest didn’t comment on his reaction. Alex reached out and shook his hand.

“I’ll see you around sometime,” Forrest said. His smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Forrest,” Alex replied.

He left the Long farm the same way he came, down the same dirt road, down the same path in his head, with the same almost-nostalgia. Leaving looked a hundred different ways, and he’d been a hundred different times, but this time the scenery was new, and he was ready to be home.

(15:00)

A lot of work went into making Alex’s house a home.

When he moved from the Valenti cabin closer to town, it was out of necessity, even if it took him a long time to admit it. It was a victory over his own stubbornness and solitude and maladaptive independence, a concession to comfort that surprised even himself. It made his life better. He was closer to work; he was closer to his friends; he had an accessible bathroom, and something he’d considered so small before helped him along a journey he’d barely acknowledged toward accepting and appreciating the body he lived in now. But changing environments wasn’t easy for him. He’d had to put a year’s worth of care into finding the perfect location and fitting the house there to be someplace he could feel secure without complete solitude for miles around him, between the cameras and the vantage point of the patio and the orientation of his bedroom within the house and just everything from top to bottom. He’d fought hard. He won.

And then he came home from breaking up with his ex-boyfriend to find a strange car in his driveway.

Well, not entirely strange. He’d seen it once before. But when he saw it, it was from the vantage point of his own front door, not from the outside.

The car had room to park in the driveway because Michael’s truck was gone, and that was the only mercy Alex knew as he parked in the street and unholstered his gun. Michael wasn’t here; he was safe with Isobel or Max or Sanders or someone—someone who wasn’t Alex, who thought he had a safe space, a space to protect Michael, but in the end had nothing at all. The house hadn’t been empty since Michael’s injury, but now that he was on the mend, it was at times. Michael was alone at times.

Was this the first time Fields had come by? What was stopping her from returning with backup and taking Michael away?

Gun in one hand, phone in the other, there was one defensive maneuver on Alex’s mind before he confronted his enemy.

Michael answered quickly, though every second felt like an eternity as Alex watched Fields watch him, face expressionless, body language placid in her place between him and his own front door.

“Alex—” His voice came through, so light and happy it stole the breath from Alex’s chest. He was okay. He wasn’t shoved in the back of a van, chained and muffled and senseless, his truck abandoned in a ditch somewhere in the desert.

He didn’t let him finish. “Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

Worry stole the light from Michael’s tone, but Alex could beat himself up for causing that later. “Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

Alex hung up on him and stowed his phone before leaving the car and crossing the street.

“Captain!” Fields said cheerfully from one of his patio chairs. Her eyes flicked down and clocked Alex’s weapon held at his side, but her demeanor didn’t change.

“What is this about? Get off my property,” Alex almost snarled.

“Sure, Captain. Your call.”

She stood, adjusted her skirt, and pulled her phone from her pocket. It couldn’t have rung more than once before she said, all lightness gone from her tone, “Get me Sgt. Manes.”

Cold clarity broke over Alex’s head and trickled through his veins. His arms snapped up and locked into place, gun pointed directly at Fields, unwavering.

“Hang up,” he ordered.

“You’re in control here,” she replied. “I’ve given you all the time in the world, and now I’m giving you more.” She angled her phone away from her face so he could hear the tinny hold music blaring from the speaker. “If you’re going to keep avoiding me, I’m going to call someone in who has answers and gets results. Or are you prepared to do that for me?”

The music measured the seconds as Alex considered his options, mind apart from motionless body. Project Shepherd, the source of so much pain, so many nightmares. He still didn’t really know what Fields wanted from him, except to continue his father’s work.

But he didn’t have to do that, did he? Put him at the helm of the Project, and he could quietly shut it down from the inside, erase it from existence, reduce it down to nothing. Euthanasia of a legacy.

In a perfect world, if Alex were a perfect man, he would. The path was paved with solid golden intention—but the end of it was hazy. How many times had Alex seen a stranger in the mirror and known he needed to get away from the military to find himself again behind his father’s shadow, and how many times had he made a different decision? How could he be sure this time would be different, that he wouldn’t find reason after reason that Project Shepherd was a necessary evil, that with himself heading it, he was keeping his loved ones safe, working for the greater good, even if they didn’t understand—all in the same uniform of generations, the uniform Michael could barely look at?

So, then, the other choice. Walk away. Let Fields call in Flint or promote some other career man to do what they would, set their traps, work in secret for the eradication of a threat that might never come at the expense of everything Alex held dear. No control, no insight, how many times would he have to fear the ultimate loss, Michael, dead, Maria, dead, their loved ones, dead, their accusing eyes on him.

The uniform laid to rest and packed away, a closed chapter in a life that still had so much living worth in it.

The music looped. Alex’s steady arm began to ache. He was running out of time.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Fields said, voice low and convincing past the jangling notes and Alex’s own pounding heartbeat. “This work isn’t just your legacy, it’s rewarding in its own right. Have you ever wanted to settle down, have a family? This offer comes with total security. No more moving around, way less following orders. I’m sure your lover would appreciate it too—”

That snapped Alex out of his frozen poise, the clanging dissonance making him snort. “My lover? You’re a little late with that one; we just broke up.” He dropped his gun hand. “Hang up the phone. Here’s your answer.”

“Go ahead.”

“The answer’s no.”

Fields’s face turned down, but, true to her word, she pressed end call. Alex reholstered his gun.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I was looking forward to working with you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I hope so too,” Alex replied, surprising even himself that he’d be that candid. But something about Fields’s demeanor diminished with the threat of Flint on hold, almost like she’d pushed so hard because this was something she wanted, rather than something she was under orders to obtain.

Even with her phone silent, though, it represented the same thing—a direct line to Flint, an accessory to a job offer, putting someone with his track record highly placed to wreak havoc. But if Alex made all his decisions based on that fear, he’d never be free. He’d spend the rest of his life running into airport bathrooms after strangers.

And maybe he would anyway. Refusing to let himself be intimidated this once wouldn’t eradicate the real threat the aliens lived under every day. But allowing himself to live between those moments—he owed himself that much.

Shocking Alex further, Fields stuck out her hand, and he shook it.

“Apologies if I was overzealous, sir. I’ve been told I need to work on my impulsivity.”

“It’s—” Alex let out a weak laugh. “Water under the bridge, Lieutenant. What’s with this change of attitude?”

She shrugged. “Disappointment, I guess. A little embarrassment that I waited so long for no payoff. But I won’t force the issues. My superiors have other options.”

There was a veiled threat in there, too, but Alex was too tired to force the issue either. For the second time today, he resigned himself to walking away from stalemate.

“Goodbye, Lieutenant,” he said, stepping aside to let her get to her car.

“Goodbye, Captain.”

The last Alex saw of her was the back of her head driving away. And when she disappeared into the heat haze, he collapsed back into a chair, muscles weak and vision swimming. He stuck his head between his knees and sucked in deep breaths until he landed back inside his body.

When he could stand again, he did, pointing his body toward the door and marching inside. The door was still locked: no sign of forced entry anywhere, not in the front or the back or any of the windows Alex checked methodically, sash, latch, frame. The safe and medicine cabinet were both untouched; he checked each twice; he opened every closet and cabinet door on autopilot. He got on the floor to check beneath both beds; he pulled back the shower curtains.

And when there were no more places to check, he stood in the center of his house, staring down his own cameras, trying to break through the walls his own brain put down around him, trying to regain control.

So on edge, Alex wheeled around seconds before a car screeched into the driveway, the pounding of feet, the scrape of a key in the lock and the door thrown open, and—

“Alex!” Michael cried.

He bounded around the corner, wild-eyed and frantic, and as soon as he spotted Alex standing there, he rushed to him, arms already outstretched. Alex barely got his own arms up in time to catch him, but he didn’t need to; Michael was enough for both of them, steady and strong and there, solid arms around Alex, almost lifting him an inch off his feet. His hands clutched at Alex’s back with a desperation that registered only dimly.

“Alex,” he breathed again, holding him, if possible, even closer, pressing their foreheads together and sucking in a deep shuddery breath. “You’re okay, fuck, I was so scared—”

“I told you to stay away,” Alex said weakly.

Michael’s answering laugh was just as weak, almost hysterical. “You know I’m a rebel.”

They drifted like that for a minute or two, Michael’s warm, soft-rough palms cradling Alex’s face, grounding the both of them, letting their souls settle. Then, he stepped back, those hands on Alex’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’re okay? You’re not hurt? That phone call—you scared the shit out of me, Alex, what the hell happened?”

“When I got home, Fields was waiting for me.”

“What? Fuck!”

“I freaked out, I had to make sure you were safe, that you stayed safe—”

“Are you safe? What did she want? What did she do?”

“I’m fine. Physically, I’m fine,” Alex let his eyes fall shut, wrapping his hands around Michael’s wrists, fragile bones in his grip, and he let Michael hold him, shutting off his senses.

“Okay. Okay, Alex. I’ve got you,” Michael rasped, pressing into him even closer.

“I told her no,” Alex blurted out, pressing right back, starting them swaying back and forth. There was no other way to get close enough but to push and pull, no matter how much they tried to meld themselves into one.

“What?”

“Fields, I—I told her no. No Project Shepherd. No.”

“Alex.”

Michael’s fingers sought across his face, stroking, feeling, calloused finger pads on his brows, his cheekbones, fit so gently against the line of his jaw, tracing his lips and the corners of his eyes, and then Michael’s lips caressed him too, forehead, nose, then mouth, and by the time he was done, Alex’s breath hitched and his body shook.

“I love you,” Michael whispered. “I love you so much. You are—you are so fucking strong, you know that? I know, I know how hard this is, but I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” Alex replied helplessly.

“It’s going to be okay, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, Michael spoke with confidence, such a tiny, intimate assurance, no matter how unlikely, no matter how utopian, like a siren it sung to Alex to let go, to give his fear and stress over into Michael’s hands, and he needed somewhere physical for that feeling to go, so he looped his arms loosely around Michael’s neck and rested there.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he admitted. “I don’t know how bad I fucked up—I don’t know how long she was here before I got back—there was no sign of entry, and I checked the house, but I don’t know—I don’t know—”

“Let’s sit down, okay? I’ll get you something to drink, and your meds, if you want, and I’ll, uh, let me tell Max he can go home…” Michael said sheepishly.

“Max?”

“Yeah, he was with me when you called and wasn’t gonna let me rush over here by myself if there was trouble.”

“Good man,” Alex said weakly.

Moving stiff, he sat on the couch. Michael flitted around him for a second, adjusting pillows, giving him a blanket, fingers trailing over him like he wasn’t quite willing to be out of arm’s length. He tore himself away, though, and Alex tracked him from one end of the house to the other, front door, bathroom, kitchen, and when he came back to Alex’s side he was barefoot, glass of water and pill bottle in hand, and he sat on the floor below Alex, leaning back against him, folding himself so his forehead rested against Alex’s hip and Alex could rest his hand in Michael’s hair.

“They’re not going to take you,” Alex promised. “No matter what it takes, whether I told her yes or no, I won’t let them have you.”

“I know,” Michael replied. “But I won’t let you give yourself up, either. We’re together. In everything. No matter what happens.”

“No—”

“That’s why I didn’t listen to you when you told me to stay away,” Michael explained, lifting his head enough to look Alex in the eye. He was as serious as Alex had ever seen him. “You can’t ask that of me. We stand together. That’s…that’s a line in the sand, okay?”

Alex swallowed. “I can’t promise I won’t say something like that again.”

“I know. But just understand—whenever you do, I’m gonna disobey.”

Alex’s eyes slipped shut, lips pressed together, riding out the fear, the straight shot of catastrophe in his brain. Michael’s words, so clear and steady, so different from the people they’d been, the places their relationship languished. Alex had to respect that, even knowing it would likely cause them to fight for the rest of their lives.

“I love you,” he repeated, the best acknowledgment he could give.

Michael smiled, crinkling the corners of his honey-sweet eyes, and Alex twisted a hand in the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward into a deep, sweeping kiss. He moved easy with every move of Alex’s, half-crouched to crawling up onto Alex’s thighs, then onto the couch to straddle his lap, his hot mouth driving deep against Alex’s. Alex’s hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging those soft curls, sliding down his back and back up, they made out on the couch like the teenagers they used to be.

Pulling back to breathe, but not so far Alex couldn’t shift to kissing down his throat and chest, Michael panted, “Bedroom? Do we wanna—should we--?”

“Uh,” Alex stalled out, the light from the window warm where it pooled, Michael’s hardening cock warm where it pressed against Alex’s belly through their clothes. The world was out there, the camera, in the corner, and Alex weighed his options, immediate gratification versus comfort and privacy.

Did they have any privacy, anyway? The image of Fields waiting, alone, at his house, free reign to tamper with whatever she wanted, haunted the edges of Alex’s mind.

“Alex?” Michael asked softly, brushing his fingertips through the overlong ends of his hair.

Their faces were only inches apart, their breaths mingling between lips and lungs, and there wasn’t anything Alex would let keep them from nurturing the happiness finally within their grasp.

“Yes,” Alex said, palming Michael’s hips, “Yes, bedroom.”

Sliding off his lap, Michael reached out a hand, and Alex took it, heat zinging up his arm where they were joined. Michael led the way until they reached the bedroom, where he hesitated beside the bed, watching Alex under his lashes. So Alex sat, pulling him by his belt loops back to straddle his lap like he had on the couch, running his hands up and down Michael’s body as he settled in, his own arms warm and solid around Alex’s neck.

The world held still, then, their eyes locked, electric and hypnotic, Alex’s hands twitching where they rested on Michael’s strong thighs, the scent of rain sharp and sweet in his nose and mouth with every inhale, every breath made tactile in puffs of heat in the space between them. The longer the moment stretched, the higher the temperature climbed, blood filling Alex’s cheeks, blood filling his cock as he waited for Michael’s next move.

That move was to lower his lips to Alex’s once again, slipping his hot, velvet tongue behind Alex’s lips and along his own tongue, flicking it against the roof of his mouth as he opened and relaxed into the languid kiss. As their mouths moved, so did Michael’s hands, cupping his neck then sliding down his shoulders to his chest. He dragged his thumbnails across Alex’s nipples, making him gasp and hiss, and Alex could feel the wicked smirk spread across his mouth even as he didn’t let up, nibbling his lower lip. Hips beginning to sway, Michael’s hands finished their journey at Alex’s waist, under his shirt and tugging it up—it was unthinkable to separate them, but they managed to wrench their mouths apart long enough to pull Alex’s shirt over his head—and then back down, he fumbled with the button on Alex’s jeans, fighting for access to his hardening cock.

Not to be outpaced, Alex did the same, making short work of Michael’s button and zipper even as he was distracted by the heat and velvet and texture of his chest and the sweet line of hair pointing down to his cock. Michael got up on his knees to shimmy his jeans down under his ass, tugging Alex’s off too, and when they were down to just the thin cotton of their underwear Michael let out a soft wavery sound, buzzing right into Alex’s mouth so he could taste the pleasure on it, frotting their cocks together, rubbing the weight of his body down against Alex. With every grind, his ass rolled against Alex’s thighs, a delicious tease, but not tonight, not tonight, it didn’t have to be tonight, taking everything of each other, they had so much time to explore every facet of their intimacy, every way to make each other climax, complete, come up and down all on each other.

“Come on, Michael,” Alex murmured, holding his hips as he ground down again. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Alex,” Michael whispered back, all reverence.

“You’re so—fucking—” Beautiful, hot, incredible, amazing, all words that Alex didn’t even need to say, saying would cheapen them, and they had a better language, anyway. He tugged at the waistband of Michael’s boxers, and Michael’s dick bobbed free, hard and hot and Alex wrapped a hand around it, luxuriating in the texture and weight of it in his hand. He gave it one easy, loose stroke and Michael shuddered, another little sound falling from his lips.

They got into a rhythm quick—Michael slid his hand into Alex’s underwear to match him stroke for stroke, their hips moving in time, knuckles brushing every time they came together. Alex rolled his thumb over Michael’s slit and dragged the drop of precum collected down his vein, then let out a bitten-off cry when Michael did the same. Even the things Alex could predict were surprising at Michael’s hands.

After minutes of this, after sweat slicked the pace between them, hearts pounding, senses flooded, Michael shifted even closer, chasing Alex’s hand away as it came up his shaft, so he could wrap them both up and jerk them together, fast and rough, both of them fucked Michael’s hand and fucked against each other, Alex’s teeth on Michael’s ear, Michael’s lips against his cheek. Alex dug his nails into the meat of Michael’s shoulders, riding out every wave of pleasure until finally he came in messy, artless spurts over Michael’s hand.

Michael followed shortly behind, a stuttering moan and a pulse of pleasure, and then they both fell back onto the mattress, panting and laughing. They rolled toward each other like magnets, Michael slipping a leg between Alex’s thighs.

“It’s going to be okay,” Michael promised, serenity and certainty in every line of his face, and Alex sighed, pulling his hand to his chest and holding it there.

Michael couldn’t make that promise. Alex couldn’t make that promise. He had, before, and the universe turned it into a cruel joke. Believing it now would be a hard-fought battle.

“As long as we’re together, we’ll get through it,” Michael amended, and it drew a small smile to Alex’s face.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“I know you will. But you don’t have to do it alone. You aren’t doing it alone.”

Alex answered him with another kiss, sealing it as truth between them.

(Thursday, 07:00)

Michael watched Alex through one lovely tawny eye as he went through the room double-checking there was no stray shirt of Forrest’s or toy of Buffy’s to collect before he made his last trip to the Long farm, to put paid to his and Forrest’s relationship once and for all.

“It’s early,” he said muzzily, through lips still mashed to the sheets warm with his sleep.

“I don’t want to keep this waiting,” Alex said with a wave of his hand, grabbing the bag of Forrest’s things. “Not while I have the day off. Get this done, then get back with plenty of time to prepare for our meeting.”

“Mmm, so efficient.”

“I do my best,” Alex said, hoping it came off as charming. “What are you up to today?”

Raising himself up on his hands, Michael arched his back in a luxurious stretch, muscles shifting in the early morning sun. He groaned as his muscles clenched and released and a couple joints popped, then said in his sweet early-morning rasp, “I should put in a couple hours at Sanders’s. Do we know everyone is coming today? Should I cut out early and meet you back here, or will you guys just be coming to the junkyard anyway?”

“I’ll touch base with everyone, but we’ll probably come to you.”

“Sounds good.” Michael stretched again, then swung his legs around to sit on the bed. One side of his face was flushed, one side of his curls scrunched. A bubble of light filled up Alex’s chest, and he cradled it so carefully, letting it show on his face, just for Michael.

Smiling back at him and rubbing one eye, Michael gestured at the bag of Forrest’s things and said, “How are you feeling? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex replied, shifting the strap on his shoulder. Then, jaw working his face into a grimace, he added, “And that’s weird, right? I shouldn’t be fine? We dated for months—I should feel something.”

For weeks after his breakup with Maria, Michael had lurked on the edges of himself, head tucked between his shoulders, hands in his pockets. And now Alex turned his back with one last box on a to-do list, a final chore of separation. What did that make him?

“Hey,” Michael said, beckoning Alex forward and sliding his hands to cup his hips when he came. “Look, I don’t have a lot of experience in this area either, but enough with the should, okay? The only feelings you gotta feel are your own. You deal with breaking up however you need to, and so will Forrest.”

Alex took a measured breath, counting in, counting out. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Michael said, kissing him softly right on his sternum, above his anxious heart. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alex left a parting kiss on Michael’s forehead and left him to get dressed and get to work. Making the drive to the Long farm for a second time in as many days was even more alien than the first; had he ever gone to Forrest’s so frequently as now, at the end?

The only feelings you gotta feel are your own, Michael said, with the wisdom of many years of terrible feeling, so as he drove, Alex did just that. One of the last sweet moments of their relationship was in a car just like this, playlist on the speakers half indie, half punk, both of them singing along to Pretty. Odd., where the two intersected, an album neither of them liked all that much in isolation but belted out together. For the rest of their lives, whenever those songs came on, for a moment they’d be back in a car together; wherever Forrest went next, in little three-minute bursts his phone would carry a dark desert road with Alex beside him.

For the rest of the drive, Alex turned on his music and let it play.

When he got to the farm and called Forrest, he came out of the house harried. “Why did I think you were bringing this stuff tomorrow?” he asked, a scowl on his face.

“I’m not sure; I had the day off and I thought—”

“Whatever. Thanks.”

A snappish retort leapt easily to Alex’s mind, but he held back. Forrest had reason enough to be mad, and if this was how he felt his feelings, they were broken up now—Alex abdicated soothing and fixing, and he’d take Forrest’s anger on the chin.

Forrest’s eyes darted toward Wyatt’s truck parked on the dirt drive beside Alex and said, “You should get out of here. Have a good life, Alex. I mean that.”

And just like that, Alex’s mind flipped and he couldn’t help himself. “If Wyatt is—”

“No, no, he’s mostly harmless. To me, anyway. But him seeing you here would be more trouble than it’s worth, so.” Forrest shouldered the bag of his things and half-turned away. “Bye.”

Alex didn’t move until Forrest disappeared back inside, gripping the steering wheel too tight until his fingers went cold and stiff. Fuck, maybe he should have waited to return this stuff, or just ditched it; all the closure from their last conversation soured on the tongue. But it was over now. Alex threw the car in reverse.

Then he threw it back into park a few yards down the lane, just out of sight of the main house. Wyatt was always more trouble than he was worth, but something was wrong in Forrest’s tone, and Alex would find out what. He had time, at least an hour, to sweep Wyatt’s most likely haunts, from the horse barn to his rigged-up shooting range.

Head on a swivel, Alex moved methodically, hot and dusty within minutes. The barn bustled with activity, so Alex gave it a wide berth, abandoning it as an option with no sign of Wyatt’s dulcet tones cutting through the air.

His mental map of the farm was imperfect at best, so Alex headed to the shooting range by way of the old barn, despite the distance out of his way, an acceptable risk when compared to the prospect of getting lost.

There was no time to linger, but the sight of the old building and fallen tree struck Alex with twin nostalgia and grief. Tripp’s dog tags hung body-hot beneath his shirt, and he let them, closing his eyes and focusing on that feeling, the chain around his neck, the weight of decades of inaction. He drifted closer to the barn, like returning Tripp’s tags to this place had some sort of meaning, whether blessing or blasphemy, Alex wasn’t sure.

He was still too far away to smell the rain burnt into the wood. Would it have smelled the same in Tripp’s time, rich and loving?

Alex hoped not.

Just as he turned to leave on that sour thought, a familiar voice drifted from inside the barn, freezing Alex in his tracks.

“I’m asking you again—are you—or not?”

What was Max doing here?

Alex crept closer. The response was clearer and came from Wyatt, loud and protesting.

“How are you even asking that right now? I’ve been doing all the shit you tell me for months, you gotta give me some quid pro quo—”

The last three words were a mocking drawl.

The response came, “Everything I’ve told you will come to pass, Mr. Long. Now’s not the time for doubters.”

That wasn’t Max. Alex’s heart pounded in his throat.

“Tsch. Whatever.”

“You’ve come far, Mr. Long. And, as always, I appreciate your talent for gathering information. Your eyes within the town are indispensable.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And you will be duly rewarded: doubly so for patience. Time is of the essence; I have to move while Manes is away—”

The sound of his name flashed hot and sharp through Alex’s frozen body, every nerve coming to life and screaming one thing: home.

#malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #malex

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pastelwitchling · 4 years

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I want to clear something up because I get quite a few messages about this.

Malex is endgame. Malex is cosmic. I love them as much as I ever did, that’s not changing. Not ever.

My only problem was that, due completely to They-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the ‘cosmic’ bit of malex’s relationship in season 2 was undermined and hidden away. I still loved malex’s scenes, I still thought they were beautiful, but that other couple’s mere existence, I feel, tainted everything like a poisonous stream.

I’m annoyed with Michael Guerin now and I don’t think he deserves Alex, but that is no different to how I felt after 1x13, and anyone who’s been following me long enough knows there’s been no shortage of malex fics there either.

I cannot stress this enough, and I hate that after all this time and all of this work I’ve put in for them, I still have to do it, but here we go; I love Malex beyond words. I will never ever EVER give up on them. I am still going to write malex. For now, it’s just aus because writing them post season 2 in the canon world is difficult with how frustrated I am with all that’s happened with They-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but I will be doing even that soon enough.

It’s not Alex x Being in Another Couple That Isn’t Malex that I’m trying to enjoy now, it’s Alex x Happiness. It’s Alex being with someone who values and cares for him in a way I have not even seen from his supposed best friends. Please understand that distinction. I love Michael Guerin (that stupid, beautiful cowboy). I’m pissed like hell at him, but I love him. Writing forlex is no different than writing kylex or even Max x Alex after season 1, but some people are freaking out because forlex is actually canon.

It’s not frightening. Don’t worry.

And don’t stress about it. Forlex is not ‘taking over’, we’re just enjoying having Alex being taken care of by someone who we’ve seen actually take care of him. I promise you, I will be posting malex fics left and right before you know it.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #forlex #anti miluca

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angsty-nerd · 4 years

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So let me tell y’all a little story that I found myself reflecting on after that last post.

Let me tell you a bit about a wee little 18-21 year old fangirl named Anne. Anne had never been a fangirl before. But she was going through a hard transition in life. High school ended, college began. She lost all her friends. She lived with her parents, took classes at the local community college, spent 2 hours every day riding the bus home from college, and then spent evenings working full time at Blockbuster Video.

But she happened to be home the night that a silly little television show about aliens and romance started airing on TheWB, and it hooked her. By the end of the 4th episode, she was on the internet looking for people to discuss it with and learning that fanfiction existed.

By the end of the winter, she was getting off work at 1am, going home, and then writing fanfiction herself for hours before going to sleep.

Fandom was different back then. There really wasn’t a whole lot of talk about representation, overall, because there were no characters that weren’t white, straight, etc. No one really talked about how the show whitewashed the books. We were aware, but we just didn’t question that stuff back then. Plus most of us looooooved Shiri Appleby.

I remember when Season 2 came around, there were a lot of unhappy people. Max and Liz didn’t feel right anymore. Tess was hanging around more. End of the World happened and everyone felt awful and heartbroken about it. I remember being in Covina with a bunch of friends visiting filming locations when the spoilers broke about Max sleeping with Tess, and we all lost it. We posed in front of a medical facility that had a “chest pain” sign out front to prove that we were HEARTBROKEN.

But I guess the thing is that when these moments in storytelling happen, I often become an optimist. Because I as CERTAIN it wasn’t true (it was true). I was SURE Max and Liz would get back together and end up together (and they did). But my fandom friends were so upset that once again, for the second time in about a year and a half...I lost all my friends. Because they didn’t want to “hurt” me with their negativity. (Them walking away hurt 1000000% times more). But eventually I found new fandom friends that loved me and it was all okay.

I understand being hurt. I understand being upset. I try not to let it overtake me because I am only in this fandom (and that fandom, and other fandoms) because I WANT to love this stupid story. And if things aren’t going the way I want them to enough that it hurts my heart *coughDoctorWhocough*, then I walk away.

As a funny little final interlude, I will share my most unpopular opinion regarding OG Roswell: I hated Michael Guerin. I was infamous for it. Everyone knew that I couldn’t stand him. He rarely made an appearance in my fic. I didn’t like his relationship with Maria. I don’t think love should be based on bickering. It became such common knowledge and such a running gag among my friends that I was a Michael hater, that in my favorite/best OG fic, I tongue-in-cheek wrote Michael as spending the entire fic on his couch watching hockey, which both fit with canon and made me not have to deal with him. It still amuses me to see because I knew exactly what I was doing and it cracked me up. Hell, it still cracks me up.

The thing is...fandom has changed a lot since then. Everyone is a whole lot smarter. The world is a lot more “woke”. People get worked up hard about representation and identification and problematic characters and plots in a way that they just didn’t back in the OG days. I found myself thinking today that if I had the same reaction to RNM Guerin as I did to OG Guerin, I straight up wouldn’t be able to admit it publicly or be this open about it without getting heavily criticized or even blacklisted by the majority of this fandom.

I guess my point is, even though we’re smarter and stronger and have better minority representation, it’s important to remember that we’re not all the same person. We don’t all see things the same way. We don’t identify the same with every character. We don’t PROJECT onto the characters in the same way. Everyone deserves to say their piece and SHOULD, frankly. That’s the point of fandom. But just remember that we’re all real people with our own ideas and feelings and wants and needs.

And don’t forget. Fandom is supposed to be FUN. If you’re not having fun, you’re doing something wrong and I’d highly encourage you to reconsider your priorities.

Take whatever you don’t like and stick them on a couch in the corner watching hockey. Or whatever you need to do to get them out of your headspace.

Cultivate your own perfect fandom experience.

And treat each other with love and respect. 💚💛

#fandom #og roswell #roswellnm

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aliciam72 · 4 years

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So before I get to the story (thank you to all who gave me suggestions I will be getting to all of them) I want to vent a bit. I know many fans of the show are very upset about the last episode and that is totally valid. I respect your decision to not watch, strike that scene from canon, write fix its, or stop writing all together. What I ask in return to have my decision to continue to write Malex respected as well. Now, everyone here has been wonderful and no one has ever said anything negative to me...I actually posted this on A03 first and got a comment I was not expecting...probably because if I’m not happy with a story I usually just move on, I don’t leave negative comments. This person (and I’m not sure they are on tumblr or not) did say they were happy with the ending of my story but went on to trash Guerin calling him a ‘vile douchebag’ I get it...people are mad at him and Maria. I’m not jumping into the fray...I just want to write fic. And I like Michael. I like Malex. While this story doesn’t end happy for Michael, the follow up I have planned does. I’m not asking for validation or sympathy...I just need to vent a bit. Okay...on to the story!

What’s in a name?

Isobel and Michael sat in a booth at the Crash Down across from Max waiting for Liz to join them.

“Where’s Maria?” Isobel looked at her phone for the fifth time since they sat down.

Michael shrugged. “Probably the Pony. We’re...uh...not talking right now.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “What now?”

“I may have accidentally broke some glasses last open mike night. We’re on a break or something...”

“And why did you break glasses?” Max questioned.

Isobel smirked. “I’m guessing it had to do with our local war hero and his blue haired boy toy.”

Liz slid in the booth next to Max, still wearing her uniform. “Oh Mikey, it’s a bit more than a break.”

Michael glared at her. “Do we need to talk about my love life?”

“Don’t you mean lack of love life?” Max teased.

“We can talk about my love life instead.” Isobel offered taking pity on him.

Michael and Max shook their heads but Liz leaned in and set her elbows on the table. “Do tell! Anyone we know?”

“Well, I almost hooked up with your ex but I think I scared him off with my dirty talk.”

“Eww, Iz, I do not need to hear you were dirty talking to Valenti!” Michael groaned.

“Too bad. I’ve had to witness your numerous hook ups over the years. The only one I wasn’t grossed out by was Alex and you went and screwed that up.” She turned to Liz. “I went to a gay bar.”

Liz’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I want details!!”

Michael threw money on the table and stood up. “I’m outta here.”

“C’mon Michael, don’t leave me to listen to this alone...again.” Max pleaded.

Sighing dramatically, Michael sat down and motioned for Isobel to continue.

“Her name is Blaire and she is almost as hot as me!”

Michael tuned Isobel out while she replayed her night with the blond bartender from Planet 7. He let his mind wander back to the last open mic night at the pony.

“Didn’t think you were coming tonight. I thought dramatic poetry reading wasn’t your style.” Maria pushed a beer towards Michael.

“I’m here to support my girl.” Michael leaned across the bar and gave her a quick kiss.

“Don’t call me that. It makes me feel like a dog. And unless you’re paying it’s not much support.”

“You wound me, DeLuca. I’ve been paying my tab for weeks now.” Michael flashed her a wide smile.

Maria leaned over and kissed him again. “Yeah, yeah. Just behave okay? Alex is coming with Forrest.”

Michael stiffened but nodded. “I’ll be good.”

He tried. He really did. He greeted Forrest and Alex with a smile and wave. He sat and politely listened to an overdramatic Forrest recite a ridiculous poem while staring into Alex’s eyes. He even kept his temper when Alex clapped and whistled after he finished. But when Forrest made his way back to their table and kissed Alex in a way that Michael was never allowed to well, he lost control of his powers for a second and broke a whole row of Maria’s beer glasses.

“What the fuck, Guerin!” Maria shouted over the performer on stage.

“Oh my God, Maria, I’m sorry!” Michael jumped up to help her clean up the glasses.

“Don’t!” Maria pushed him away.

Michael flinched. “I said I was sorry.” He whispered not sure Maria heard him.

“He’s allowed to be happy. You chose me, remember?” Maria hissed.

“I know. It’s just hard-“ Michael tried to explain.

“Well, it shouldn’t be. You have no right to be jealous.”

Michael sighed. “I know. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t. Get out. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Michael frowned. “It was a mistake. I-I just lost control for a second.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think this whole thing was a mistake. Even after everything you still love him don’t you?”

“Maria, that’s not fair. You know I do but you’re right, I chose you.” Michael glanced to Alex’s table and caught him staring. He looked more confused than angry and that made Michael feel horrible.

“God! You can’t even pay attention to me when we’re fighting! Really, Guerin, leave.” Maria grabbed the beer from his hand and pointed to the door.

“Are we?” Michael didn’t know what he wanted to ask.

“Done? Yeah, I think we are. And maybe stay away from Alex too. He doesn’t deserve your shit.” Maria turned her back on Michael and started sweeping up the glass.

Michael slowly got up and headed to the door. He slowed at Alex’s table. “I’m sorry, it was an accident. You were good, Forrest.”

“Earth to Micheal...” Isobel waved her hand in front of Michael’s face.

Michael looked at her. “What’d I miss?”

Max laughed. “Just the whole story.”

Michael was about to say something when Alex and Forrest walked in and headed to the counter. Alex leaned over and said something to the waitress before turning to them and smiling. Forrest gave him a quick kiss and headed to the bathroom.

Liz rolled her eyes. “I don’t get how he can date a Long. Especially after everything Wyatt has done to all of us!”

Michael stopped looking at Alex. “Forrest isn’t Wyatt.”

Liz’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t tell me you actually think Forrest is good for Alex do you? I thought that was what the broken glasses and Maria dumping you was all about.”

“She dumped you?” Isobel gave him a look of surprise.

“Yeah, she did. I lost control and she got mad. Said I shouldn’t be jealous and she was right but that’s not really why I lost control. And before you ask, I’m not telling you why. Forrest may be a Long but he’s nothing like the rest of them. He’s treats Alex right and that’s all that matters. So, please Liz don’t hassle him. I know Wyatt has done a lot to your family but let Alex have this, he deserves to be happy.” Michael stood and strode out of the diner.

He made it to his truck before he realized someone was calling his name. He turned to see Alex making his way over to him. He hung his head and debated ignoring him but Alex was in front of him before he could open the door. “What do you want, Alex?”

“I’m sorry about Maria.” Alex said shifting his weight to his good leg.

“You chased after me to tell me you’re sorry Maria dumped my ass?” Michael laughed and reached to open his door.

Alex grabbed his arm and cleared his throat. “That’s not really what I meant. I’m sorry for being the reason you let your control slip.”

Michael didn’t turn around. “You weren’t.”

“Michael, you’re a terrible liar. I know Forrest kissing me in front of everyone hurt you. I...we...try not to flaunt this in your face—“

“You shouldn’t have to hide anything from me. I sure as hell didn’t.” Michael was suddenly angry. Why was Alex being so nice to him? He walked away from him, right into the arms of his best friend. He had every reason to flaunt his relationship with Forrest in his face. Michael wasn’t jealous, he was hurt. Forrest got to have the version of Alex he never got to have. The version who had no problem kissing or holding hands in public. He was happy Alex felt comfortable enough to live his life in the open but it still stung that the whole time they were together they had to keep it a dirty secret.

“No, you didn’t.” Alex turned to leave but only a got a few steps before turning back. “Thank you for what you said to Liz. It means a lot.”

Michael watched Alex walk back to Forrest who was waiting by the door holding their food. “Alex!”

Alex stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“I know, Michael. I know why and like I said, I’m sorry.” Alex gave him a small smile before taking the bag from Forrest and heading to the car.

Michael opened the door to the truck and got in. He rested his head on the steering wheel and tried to keep the tears from falling.

#forlex #past malex #my fic #roswell new mexico #no more Miluca #Michael is a good guy

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erisgregory · 5 years

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Satellite Call Chapter Two

cross posted to AO3

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Relationship: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes Additional Tags: Michael is an Escort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary: Alex is home from the air force but finds he is as lonely as ever. He engages an escort one night under a pseudonym and when the escort arrives it's his high school love, Michael Guerin. Thankfully for both of them Michael is a professional. However one night couldn't possibly make up for all they've missed. Can they keep an ongoing relationship professional? Can they learn to trust that there is something more than this transaction between them?

Michael felt frozen on the doorstep. This wasn’t some random guy named Rick, this was Alex fucking Manes. His client was Alex Manes. It wasn’t computing and Alex was standing there staring at him, his mouth half open and Michael knew he needed to say something, anything at this point. Anything was better than standing there like an idiot.

“You gonna invite me in?” He asked, tipping his hat, his voice low and sultry. It was all fake bravado, though. Michael’s knees were actually weak at the sight of the guy he’d been in love with the past ten years.

Alex closed his mouth and stepped back allowing Michael to walk in. Then he closed the door behind them and it sounded so final, like whatever was about to happen, neither of them could turn back. Michael felt like he had to pull it together, to gain the upper hand somehow. He was always in control no matter what so he couldn’t afford to lose it now.

“So, does the macho-cowboy swagger thing ever get old with you?” Alex asks. He doesn’t sound as confident as his words seem.

“Did it get old for you?” Michael asks. Alex doesn’t answer and it’s silent for a beat. “Mind if I…” Michael gestured toward the whiskey. It might calm his nerves a little and it would at least give him something to do with his hands.

“Uh, sure.” Was all Alex said. So he poured two glasses and handed one to Alex.

“So we should probably talk.” Alex says after downing his drink. Michael follows suit and levels him a look.

“We don’t have to. Your emails made everything pretty clear.” Michael tells him and at that Alex blushes a deep red that flushes over his cheek and neck. Suddenly all Michael can think of is chasing that heat with his tongue. That’s what he’s there for anyways, wasn’t it?

“I don’t think I made everything clear. And I sure as hell didn’t expect you.” Alex says, his voice rough from the whiskey.

“That doesn’t have to change anything unless you want it to.” Michael says. He’s hoping this won’t change anything because he wants to be the one to take care of Alex’s needs, to make him feel good and wanted. Hell, he is wanted, to make him feel needed.

Alex looks like he’s going to say something, maybe put a stop to Michael’s train of thought right then and there but then his eyes shift down to Michael’s mouth, and further down, to Michael’s jeans, and yeah plenty of people have given Michael the once over in this line of work but none of them had ever come close to making him feel the way Alex is making him feel just then. Like he’s the only man left in the world. The only man for Alex.

“Yeah. Okay.” Alex finally says, swallowing hard. His voice is quiet so Michael asks him to say it again.

“Yes. This doesn’t have to change anything.” Alex tells him, not looking away this time.

That’s what Michael needed. He closes the distance between them and reaches for Alex like a lifeline, pulling him in by the neck drinking in the warm scent of soap and whiskey before pressing his lips to Alex’s.

It’s electric, this kiss. It’s been in the making a decade and Michael wishes just for a moment that this wasn’t a transaction. That he could properly welcome Alex home. He didn’t even know he was back and yet here he is winding his arms around Michael and pulling him in tight like no time has gone by.

Michael tips Alex’s head to the side to get a better angle before slipping his tongue along the seam of Alex’s lips. Alex opens with a gasp and Michael chases it with his tongue. Alex tastes like whiskey and toothpaste and that might be a weird combination, but it’s working for Michael as he maps the inside of Alex’s mouth.

Alex is in a button down shirt so Michael starts in on the buttons, peeling open Alex’s collar and and laying kisses between the parted material. “Is this okay?” He asks before going further.

“Yea--yes.” Alex tells him.

“Good, good, I’m going to be asking that a lot tonight and I want you to always answer out loud. That way we both know we’re on the same page. Michael rewards him by nibbling his earlobe. The he whispers in his ear, “Do you remember your safeword?”

Michael doesn’t usually need safewords, but he’d thought it was smart for someone who hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, especially someone with PTSD and a missing limb. It wasn’t that Michael had much experience with those things, but he wanted Alex to feel like he always had the power to stop what they were doing if it got to be too much or uncomfortable in some way. He’s especially glad he set it up this way now that he knows it’s Alex. Alex deserves a great night and Michael intends to give it to him.

“I do,” Alex manages. “It’s pineapple.” He says.

“Good. That’s perfect. If you’re ever uncomfortable with something I do or you just need a moment to breathe you’re going to use your safeword. But if for some reason you forget, I’m also going to stop if you tell me to stop. I only suggested the safeword because for a lot of people it’s easier than telling someone to stop what they’re doing, it feels less aggressive. It’s whatever works best for you, whatever you need.

All of this is said between kisses to Alex’s chest as Michael pulls apart his shirt button by button. When Alex’s shirt is gone Michael moves back to slowly peel his off as well. He follows that with his belt and then moves Alex to the bed. His body is tanner than Michael remembers and more chiseled. In all the right places. If Michael didn’t have a job to do here, he might get lost just looking at the grownup Alex before him.

Alex sits on the end of the bed and for just a moment he looks nervous again so Michael leans down to kiss him deeply, threads his fingers through Alex’s hair again and again, soothing him as best he can. This won’t be good if Alex is too nervous and Michael wants to make it good.

First he tosses the lube and condom from his pocket onto the bed, then he reaches for his own fly with a little smirk thrown Alex’s way and Alex’s pupils go wide. Yeah, that’s better. He undoes his jeans slowly, for effect naturally, and then slides them down and off leaving himself in black boxer briefs. Alex continues to watch his every move as he approaches the bed again. This time he reaches for Alex’s fly. “Still okay?” He asks.

“Yes.” Alex breathes.

Michael kisses Alex as he opens his pants, keeping him distracted and on edge. It’s much better than the nervousness. Alex is in white briefs and the sight of them makes Michael’s mouth water. He pulls the pants down the rest of the way and off, tossing them aside as he dives in for another kiss. He doesn’t bother looking at Alex’s leg. He knows what’s there and he wants to be sure Alex knows he doesn’t feel pity or disgust as those had been some of Alex’s concerns in his emails.

He takes Alex’s face in both his hands and kisses him, once, twice, before moving back. He’s going to ask Alex if he can help with the leg too, but Alex takes it from there and begins to pull off his prosthetic himself. It’s quick and simple and then he’s leaning it against the side of the bed. Michael will need to remember it’s there so he doesn’t knock it away.

Alex climbs backward on the bed and Michael chases him, covering his body with his own, kissing him and relaxing into it. Alex feels so fucking good it would be too easy to forget what they are doing, so Michael pulls back for a breath and checks in. Alex is still okay and now he’s flushed, not just his cheeks but his neck and chest too so Michael lets himself taste all of the warmth on his tongue. Alex relaxes even more under this treatment and Michael considers that a win.

When he’s done lavishing kisses all over Alex’s torso he moves lower, slowly so that Alex can anticipate what he’s going to do next. He lays a kiss on the waistband of Alex’s briefs and then teases a few kisses over the hardness beneath. Alex lifts his hips just a fraction of an inch and Michael takes that as a plea for more so he begins to mouth at Alex’s cock through the cotton underwear, dampening it, kissing and sucking through it until Alex’s breath is coming in little hitches.

Then he slowly tugs the briefs down to Alex’s thighs. He looks up at Alex who looks rumpled and wide eyed and Alex says softly, “I’m good,” without being prompted.

“Good.” Michael tells him softly before lowering his mouth to Alex’s leaking cock. He drags his lips over the tip, teasing, touching so softly until taking the head into his mouth. It’s a lot to take for him, taking Alex into his mouth like this, but he keeps going, driven by the idea that Alex has been touch starved and the fact that that is a crime.

At first he sucks gently but Alex is above him saying, “please,” so softly it almost hurts to hear so Michael sucks with more force, sinking down over Alex and taking him all the way in, with less teasing and more purpose. Alex is so hard against his tongue, Michael wants nothing more than to get lost there, to make him fall apart, to make him come. But there’s a plan, one they’d already agreed on, and Michael’s going to stick to it if it kills him.

He reaches for the lube but keeps up his ministrations with tongue and lips. The lube coats his fingers and it’s cold so he warms it as best he can before slipping one finger down behind Alex’s balls. Swirling there and pressing as Alex lets his legs fall open even more.

“Yes.” Alex says as he pressing the pad of his finger against Alex’s hole. Gently, so gently it doesn’t breach him yet. He takes Alex deep before pressing his finger in, carefully, slowly,, no one has made love to Alex all these years, he deserves the someone taking the time to do this the right way.

Michael opens Alex as slowly as possible only pushing in with two fingers when one begins to slide with ease, and three when two move in and out without resistance. All the while he holds Alex’s cock in his mouth until Alex is thrusting down onto his fingers and up into his mouth, panting and moaning, his head thrashing back and forth. Then and only then does Michael back off. First pulling off Alex and then slipping his fingers out gently. Alex moans at the loss, but Michael kisses his thigh in apology.

“Still good?” Michael asks, his voice rough from the abuse his throat has taken.

“Yeah, yes, still good.” Alex assures him.

“Okay.” He knows Alex wanted to be on his back for this, they’d left nothing to chance, but worked out every detail ahead of time.

Alex bends his one good leg up off the bed and lets the other fall open to the side and Michael settles between them, nuzzling along Alex’s neck, drinking in the scent of him, tasting his skin in little nips and kisses. Oh he was going to make this so good for Alex.

He rolls the condom on and adds more lube just to be sure and then rubs the head of his dick around and around Alex’s hole. He’s loose and open, but Michael knows he will still have to take it slow.

“Michael, please.” Alex begs and Michael can’t handle that at all. He eases into Alex one inch at a time until he’s fully seated inside him and then he waits. While he waits he kissed Alex with abandon. It isn’t professional at all because he’s feeling too much in this moment.

Usually when Michael took male clients they wanted him on the bottom, as it were, and that was all fine and good, but he missed this. Since he didn’t really date he never got the chance and it felt so perfect. So hot and tight and so good, so very good. It felt like coming home and Michael poured that feeling into the kiss. When he was finally able to gather his wits about himself again, he pulls back and looks into Alex’s face. What he sees there is so much love looking back at him, it’s too much, it’s probably in his head anyway so he simply asks, “Are you good?”

Alex nods at first but then seems to remember their agreement. “I’m good.” He croaks softly.

“Good.” Michael whispers, and then he begins to move.

He pays close attention to Alex’s body language, feeling Alex relax around him, the way he tips his hips up to meet each thrust, the way he throws his head back, the way he grabs at Michael’s hips and back. Michael listens to every small sound he makes, listening for the safe word or for a call to stop, but that call never comes.

Michael buries himself in Alex again and again, grinding their hips together and when that isn’t enough for either of them he takes hold of Alex’s hips and angles them so that he can drag his cock over Alex’s prostate until Alex is a babbling mess. It takes all of Michael’s control but he holds on, doesn’t let himself lose sight of what he’s trying to do.

He takes Alex’s cock in hand and begins to stroke it in time to his thrusts. It’s hard to hang on now, but Michael pulls it off somehow, biting his lip hard in the process. All he wants to do is let loose and come deep inside of Alex but Alex isn’t there yet, so he waits even though his hips are falling out of rhythm and the sweat is pooling between them making it harder to keep ahold of Alex.

“Come on, Alex, let go for me. I wanna see you come.” He says finally.

“Oh god, Michael!” Alex almost shouts as he comes and he clenches down tight around Michael. He comes hot hand fast over Michael’s hand and Michael follows him right over the edge.

Coming down is like being doused with cold water for Michael. Alex doesn’t want to be held after and Michael respects that, moves back and gives him space right away. He slips back into his clothes and Alex does the same. There is a moment when Michael realizes he should say something. Something about how this was more than just a job or how much it meant to him to have a chance to be with Alex again after all these years, but the moment passes the minute Alex reaches for the envelope on the side table. He passes it to Michael silently.

Michael takes the envelope and then flashes Alex a smile that’s a total lie compared to how he really feels. He slips the envelope into his back pocket and his heart clenches tight in his chest until it’s hard to breathe. He’s gotta get outta of there and fast. Before he really does say something stupid.

He strides back to the bed where Alex is sitting, takes his face in his hands, and kisses him goodbye. It’s a deep kiss full of longing and everything he knows he should say but can’t. Shouldn’t say, maybe. The things welling up in him that he feels he has to keep control of. Then he’s out the door. He closes it behind him softly and practically runs for his truck. If Alex comes out, he’ll speak up. If Alex comes after him he’ll say it all and Michael really doesn’t know if he wants that or not. Either way, it doesn’t happen. He starts up his truck and pulls out of the parking lot and as he drives he realizes that he’s never going to be the same now. No matter what something has shifted inside him and he won’t be able to go back to the person he’s been all these years. Whether or not that’s a good thing remains to be seen.

#malex #malex fic #eris writes fics #satellite call fic

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