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Michael nosed at the tension in Alex’s face, and just, tried to breathe. He was used to feeling helpless inside Alex. He loved it, asked for it, begged sometimes for Alex to ride him so long he couldn’t help it, couldn’t do anything but lie there and take it and be worked until he came, sticky and tearing up. Alex would moan so nicely on top of him, laugh sometimes when he made Michael twitch. They did that often, and did it damn well.
This felt different.
“How —” Alex’s voice caught, and he stopped to swallow, licking his lips, already flushed and glossed as a candy pop. “How long do you think, until?”
Heat winded Michael as Alex shifted his hips, resettling his legs around Michael’s waist from where they had slipped, sweat-slick. It took all of his concentration to stay still, just weather the steady throbs of his body or Alex’s body or his body in Alex’s body, because the two of them together always felt, felt like something else. Something more. But he stayed still.
Except for when Alex clenched or rocked against him, and then Michael would find himself curling up, aching, pulsing, entrusting the whimpers that spilled out of his mouth to the salty skin of Alex’s neck.
“I — I don’t — ah, ah —” he panted instead of finishing, as Alex’s body tightened around him again and it scorched him down to his toes. “You feel so good,” he managed, trying desperately not to turn himself on further but needing Alex to know it was still, it was still good, still them, still perfect.
Alex’s chin turned towards him, and then he was being lifted up, uncurled, put to shape for Alex to kiss. God, exactly where he wanted to be. Another swell of arousal rolled through him, piercing him at the same slow speed of Alex’s tongue pressing into his mouth, and he moaned around it, moaned at the way Alex could take him apart like this, at the knowledge of what they were waiting for.
But for that, he needed to — calm, he needed, he needed to — he took a deep breath, and another, until it shuddered less against Alex’s cheek. He needed to calm down. He needed to slow down.
“Pet me,” he suggested, and Alex did, silk-tender in his hair, long strokes up and down his back. Michael breathed, and kissed his cheek, and let himself be soothed.
It felt — closer, but he had to, not, he had to not think about — not think about it, he had to not think about it. He had to relax.
As Alex pulled gently up the taut line of his spine, he breathed in. On the slow press back down, he breathed out. Up, in. Down, out. Slow curving wave bringing him into tune, plucked string singing the way he was supposed to.
Alex joined him, his chest rising and falling to the same tune, little hitches marking a melody in Michael’s embrace.
In a vague way, and then, very suddenly, urgently, all-at-once right now, Michael bowed his back against the pleasure, gasping out a warning, a soft, “Now, Alex, now.”
Alex moaned, as his head rocked back and his limbs clutched Michael tighttighttight, the cradle of his hips widening like he couldn’t wait, like he wanted it so bad, like he wanted —
— “Mmh, come on, come on —”
— the release of Michael’s cock inside of him, finally gone soft enough to let out the piss pressing at his insides.
And god, it felt like coming. Same messy grinding together. Same feeling of overwhelming relief, same moans he let out to steam Alex’s skin. But it lasted, and instead of tightening up, everything was so loose, and wet, oh, god, oh fuck, oh shit, oh —
“Oh, that’s,” he whispered, as liquid heat spilled out to wet his hips, leaking, must be, down Alex’s ass to soak the towels they’d laid out.
“Mmhm.”
Caught by his lower back, tugged in close till he could feel Alex’s hand fast and firm on his dick, Michael sank, melted and trickled into all his cracks and crevices.
“Don’t pull out,” Alex said, hoarse and so, so fucking pretty, so absolutely precious, so necessary. “Don’t pull out.”
It was almost done, Michael was almost all hollowed out, but he kissed him through the last of it, tried to keep it together long enough for Alex to come, to find the end of his low, fitful moans.
Finally, the slack open tremble of his mouth pressed to Michael’s temple with a powerful exhale. The motion of his hand slowed to a stop, and Michael loved this part, this moment Alex just lets himself rest. He reached up, pressing their foreheads together and slowly slotting their lips till it was just warm, and wet, and soft, everywhere.
God, everywhere. He stretched out his lungs, collapsing down onto Alex with a deep, humming groan, the kind that told his body it was time to relax. It ended on a giggle that surprised him, the cavern in his belly filling with butterflies. He swiped out a tongue at Alex’s nipple, close enough to reach without moving. Heat and salt and skin and perfect.
Alex jumped under him, laughing in response. “I think that is a resounding ‘yes,’” he said, clumsily patting the side of Michael’s face with an extremely satisfied sigh. It dripped pleasure, and Michael stood under the spray, basking in it.
“Sounds like it,” he said.
A finger came to his lips, and he let it trace the shape of his grin before he rolled up and pounced, sucking it all the way in, sliding his mouth down a few times just for the feel of it. Well, the feel and for Alex’s attention, his focus, more of it, always.
Dark eyes glittering, rosy smile indented by teeth. Mmm.
He pulled off of Alex’s finger torturously, sweetly slowly, to ask, “Ready for me to pull out yet?”
Alex pursed his lips, looking down between them like it was a particularly annoying thing to consider. “I guess. Should shower.”
His touch skimmed along Michael’s stomach, making it tense and shiver. It’d be impossible to count the ways Alex did him in, the ways he turned him on, to separate the rub against his skin from the play of Alex’s fingers through the come on his own stomach. The way it caught on the hair there, light on dark, leading down under where his cock lay spent and still heavy enough to make Michael’s mouth water. The soft yield of his balls, the wet clutch of his ass — the knowledge of why it was so wet, what Alex had just let him do, what he’d asked him for — he could just keep going, and it’d never, ever stop.
It used to scare the hell outta him. Used to feel like he would die from it.
That hasn’t stopped, either.
But Alex takes it, calms it, gives it back. This is Roswell, everybody in their little gang has died at least once, and it sure as hell wasn’t the love that finally did it.
So Michael gives Alex his love, he gives him his heart and his future and his promises just the same as he gives him his fear and his issues and his buck-the-leash tongue. And when Alex asks for more, Michael provides. His mouth. His cock. His sounds. His hands, and ass, and spit and come and piss and every embarrassing thought he’s ever had, just so Alex gets the chance to do the same.
It’s a goddamn miracle, is what it is.
It’s incredibly, deeply, inescapably hot.
Michael hummed, enjoying the rumble in his chest, the way Alex’s eyes flicked back to his with interest. “Can I pick you up?”
“For thirty seconds longer on your dick? Mm, my hero,” Alex said, amused. He refastened his legs firmly around Michael’s waist, though, and hooked his arms around his neck, leaning in to breathe close.
“You know,” Michael said, letting himself grin in advance, “my advanced physics research has taught me a few things.”
“I should hope so.”
“Chief among them: it is very important to factor in gravity.”
He hoisted Alex up, sparing his back with a generous push of telekinesis. As he headed toward the en suite, his plan was quickly rewarded with a small gasp against his neck, a soft oh, and he felt it a moment later, the tickling warmth of liquid seeping down from Alex’s body and starting to drip along his thighs.
“Oh shit,” Alex breathed, as his hands tightened on Michael’s shoulders, “yeah, that’s — very important, that’s very — mmhm.”
He was squirming by the time Michael maneuvered them through the doorway, a flick of his head turning the water on before he got too distracted, because a restless Alex moaning and dripping around his cock was goddamn distracting. Pressure squeezed hot between Michael’s legs, bolting down to his toes till they curled. It didn’t even feel oversensitive anymore, body already ratcheting back up.
“God,” he found himself panting, and pushed Alex up against the wall so he couldn’t drop him. “Jesus. You gotta let me get into the water first.”
“Yeah, but,” Alex laughed a little, sounding, god, high as anything, “it feels really good.” Taking advantage of the wall at his back, he ground himself down on Michael, the slick-sweet drag of it making his knees weak.
“Okay,” he groaned. “Okay. If you can give me, like, ten seconds of not blowing my mind, I can get us in the tub and get you down. Spare our bath mat.”
Alex let out a considering sound, drawn out and filthy. He pulled at Michael’s lower back, digging fingertips into the dimples above his hips. “What’re you gonna do once we get there?”
His hand tugged again, encouraging Michael to move. He did, trying to keep it even, to smooth out the shudders that bent through him every time the angle changed and something wet would leak. It must have gotten all mixed up inside, all that lube and come from round one already fit for soaking even before he’d filled him up.
Michael’s stomach clenched roughly at the thought. He’d gotten Alex so messy. And Alex — had his head tossed back against the wall, hair sticking to his sweaty, reddened cheeks, his lips kissed clear of chapstick hanging slack in an unselfconscious bow. His cock was still soft from the first time, his chest still streaked and sticky. He’d gotten Alex messy, and Alex liked it.
“Gonna,” Michael rasped, with a drip delicately tracing the back of his knee, “gonna pull out where I can see it. Watch everything I put in you spill right back out.”
“Mmm.” Alex smiled. “What if I want to keep it?”
For a second, Michael couldn’t answer, too busy thrusting a little faster, a little gentler, because he had to give Alex his dick for that, he just had to. “Then — um —”
“Yeah,” Alex sighed, because of course it was on purpose, of course it was.
“Then I’ll — put it back in you. Use my fingers, or — oh, my tongue —”
— “Yeah,” Alex said, clamping down like he was imagining it, and god, that was —
— “Get between your legs and lick it all back inside —”
Against his body, Alex shivered. “Yes,” he said tightly, “yes, do that, do it.”
Times like this Michael was grateful for the mundanities of being an alien. The clumsiness of backing away from the wall and getting the shower door open then shut behind them went without a slip or a fall, and he didn’t even have to take his hands off of Alex to do it, and then all of a sudden there he was, kneeling under the spray with his husband spread wide, looking at him like he was going to never, ever let him go.
Michael leaned down to kiss him, deep and hot and quick, before drawing back to where he could see — everything.
“Ready?” he asked, and Alex’s mouth dropped open to pant, drawing his knees to his chest. His brows were knit and his eyes were hungry. “God. Okay.”
Michael’s body blocked most of the spray, but water still dripped down around him, making it harder at first to tell what was from the shower and what was them. But he kept going, pulling out slowly, slowly, savoring the slide of it, the contrast of Alex’s body heat versus open air. And when he eased the last of himself out, teasing Alex with a long catch on the ridge — there it was.
His forearms ached from their collision with the tiled floor. He’d notice that later.
Alex tasted like earth, and bitter, and artificial cherry. He tasted hot and soft and overwhelming, filling each of Michael’s senses in turn till the surface tension broke and spilled over to the next one. Wet and filthy. Hand in his hair, cupping the back of his neck.
It fisted, pulled a little, and Michael whined in response.
“Oh, good,” Alex gasped from somewhere above. “Good boy, you’re a good boy.”
Michael could have sighed in relief. The urgency melted from his shoulders, letting his head hang in Alex’s grip, smushing his face into his skin to let his tongue go deep, deeper. Over and over again, the sharply musked mix would gradually flood his mouth, and he’d lap it back inside. A simple task for the reward of Alex’s shivers, his thighs against his ears, the slow taut swell of his balls where Michael could just feel it against his temple.
Alex’s short leg stroked along his back, sending hot water sluicing this way and that, dripping down his dick and arms and chin.
His hips flexed. The skin against Michael’s cheek shifted, and through the curtain of his soaked curls he could make out Alex’s hand moving on his cock, the end of each long, thorough stroke coming into view.
Michael let his eyes drift closed and his mind go hushed. An easy solute under Alex’s careful pour. Curl his tongue like this — hold Alex’s thighs like that. Soak up the feeling of soft skin and saturated hair. Dissolve.
Be steady, ready, when Alex needed him to hold fast and lick deep.
Go easy, easy, sweetheart, easy, when reintroduced to air, asked to roll over and breathe.
Alex kept murmuring while his hot palm soaped up Michael’s cock, soft sounds cool on flushed skin. “One more,” he said. “Be so good for me.”
The gentle task rocked through him, haze sharpening to a sweet point, water sweeping heat over his legs and hips as Alex repositioned. He was so pretty like this, broad back to the water, eyelashes beaded where he held Michael’s gaze. His grip tightened, stroking with water till he was rinsed off. Even the light pressure of the shower was an onslaught, so much sensation on the hard head of his dick, so carefully exposed — Michael whined but stayed still, sank into it.
Alex rewarded him. “That’s it, good boy,” he said, and licked out filthily when Michael’s whine gave way to a whimper. He took him into his mouth all at once, sucking hard and moving fast and holding all of Michael’s senses just there between his lips.
It was already too much, sensitive and worked up and leaking again as soon as Alex got a rhythm going. But god, Michael had the easy job. Being good when Alex asked was the easiest thing in the world. Alex was the one holding on while he writhed, purring approval at his nonsense noises. Alex was the one taking all of Michael’s chaos and spinning him into streams of pleasure, wrapped round and round his finger. Alex was the one who made him feel like his entire body sang when he finally pulsed his release into his mouth.
Alex’s name was on his lips, and though no sound made it out, Alex answered him anyway.
“Yeah, Michael, I got you,” he said, in between lightning-shock kisses to Michael’s oversensitive cock, sucking at the slit, making his thighs shake. “I got you, you’ve been so good.”
“Alex.”
He slid up his body, pressing a kiss to Michael’s clumsy lips. “So good.”
“Holy hell.”
A possessive bite to Michael’s lip, pleasure sparking lightly behind his eyes even as his thinking brain started to turn back on.
“Alex —”
— teeth in his shoulder, this time, and he moaned obediently, arching his neck as he flicked the water off —
— “you are so fucking incredibly hot, have I told you that lately?”
“I think I remember something like that,” Alex huffed, but he was smiling shyly as he pulled away, settling with his back against the shower wall and legs propped on Michael’s hip. He breathed deep again, a calming whew to accompany the flush fading from his cheeks. “You feel good?” he asked, gently kneading with his toes.
“Little sore, but yeah, I feel good.” Michael sat up, rolling the shower stall ache from his shoulders, and rested his chin on the dimple of Alex’s knee. “And I feel, y’know, good.”
Alex nodded. He stroked a wet curl off Michael’s forehead, and bent for a kiss. “Me too.”
They stayed like that a moment longer, until the bones in Michael’s ass were getting sore and the air started to chill. He sighed. “Wanna actually shower?”
Alex made a disgusted sound. “No.”
“Me either.” They hauled themselves off the ground together with the anchored grab bars before Michael turned the water back on, enjoying Alex’s wet cat expression as he readjusted the temperature. “Crashdown leftovers after?”
“Absolutely.”