Heaven Can Wait
A Roswell (1999) Fanfiction Site

Stripped von Peachykin

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“Parker,” Michael said evenly, his eyes still wide with shock as the tie on her robe loosened further, “Whatever you’re up to…Knock it off!”



“I’m not doing this!” Liz insisted as the ties came apart and she grabbed the lapels fighting to hold them together before they were thrown open. She was a small girl but by no means weak, but the force pulling at her robe was far stronger and she was losing quickly.



“Well I’m not!” He barked. Even in her battle with the robe she could make out the barely held back smirk on his face,” Maybe you have defective ties or something.”



“Ties don’t just come to life, Michael! And since ghosts don’t exist…You tell me how this is happening!”



Another shriek escaped Liz’s moth as the material in her hands flew away and her robe was quickly stripped away from her body falling to the floor in a useless heap.



“Maybe it’s just your inner exhibitionist coming out.” Michael laughed, clearly having no sympathy for her humiliation, as she threw an arm over her exposed body and knelt to the floor trying to grab at the robe.



“You know your commentary isn’t helping, Michael!” she bit out reaching for the robe. It flew away from her hands by the same invisible force and she fell to her knees, hissing, “Dammit!”



She reached out again for the robe, praying to Buddha that whatever or whoever was doing this too her would have mercy. Yes Buddha. She figured one of her best friends being on a first name basis with the chubby deity, earned her something!



It seemed clear that Buddha was on a lunch break, when the robe dashed out of her grasp settling itself under the bed, leaving her flailing naked on the floor with a snickering alien watching her every bare-assed move.



“Could you like, NOT watch!” she growled reaching an arm under the bed fruitlessly reaching for clothing.



“Naked girls writhing on the floor are not something horny teenage guys look away from, Parker,” he told her, now not bothering to hide his laughter at her predicament, “Sorry to disappoint you.”



When it was clear she wasn’t going to get her robe back Liz spotted her towel from her shower. At least that would cover her until they figure out what the hell had possessed her robe. Sighing she reached out for the towel, only to groan in frustration as it too was ripped away from her, by the unseen force, joining her robe under the bed.



The rustle of sheets as Michael sat up further on the bed, threw her into action. Sheets were tucked in. Whatever was doing this would have to battle both she AND Michael. She was sure Michael would guard his own modesty much more than hers. Scrambling quickly she bolted into the bed next Michael before he even had a chance to process what was happening.



“What the hell are you doing?” Michael hissed, his amusement clearly gone as Liz hugged the sheets tightly around her chest, scooting down into the bed for the most sheet coverage possible.



“Surviving,” she stated plainly, ignoring the fact that Michael had yet to move his leg away from hers, after they’d collided in her haste to seek the safety of the bed, “If whatever this is wants me naked, it’s going to have to get you naked too!”



Michael chuckled, lying back against the pillows, mimicking Liz’s position; clearly over his initial shock of a naked Liz Parker in bed, “Technically I’m not naked,” he lifted his sheets checking to make sure that indeed he was wearing his boxers, “What Parker? Were you afraid of seeing a real alien probe?”



She felt the sheets being tugged at, and she struggled with the jersey knit material, with a ferocity she wasn’t even sure she possessed. She glared over at him as her fight wore on, “What happened to Mr. Protector? Some… THING… is trying to have its way with me, or at the very least getting a cheap thrill out of seeing me naked, and it hasn’t once crossed your mind that I might need some protection here?!”



Michael took his gaze away from the ceiling, to meet her glare, as he scratched its eyebrow, “Now if I was really worried about your safety, Parker I’d be on it. This is harmless, and in my eyes, mutually beneficial. To stop it would suggest I don’t enjoy seeing a chick naked. I do. I encourage it.”



“Pig!” Liz spat as she pulled against the force’s grip clutching more sheet to her body and it yanked down.



“Oink. Oink.” Michael laughed, eyes locked on her struggle.



It was in that moment that Liz took stock of Michael. They were lying in the same bed together. HE should have been fighting with the sheets as well. Yet he sat there, his sheets lying lifeless on his lap. There was nothing trying to take them away or expose him, yet she was battling for all nudity to keep her side of the sheets on her body.



His powers were at best sketchy tonight. The alcohol’s effect on, not only his body, but his brain and the energy coursing through it…. Her eyes widened and she whipped them away from her sheets and over at him.



“You. Asshole!” Liz said in aloud whisper, “You’re doing this!”



Michael’s head reared back on the pillow, clearly shocked by her accusation, “What? No way! You can’t pin this on me!”



Liz narrowed her eyes at him, catching the sheets before they were yanked away from her breasts, “Lets look at the facts, shall we? You were drunk. Did some pretty funky tricks while under said drunkenness. While now you’re only feeling hung over, the alcohol is still in your body, messing with your mind, which in turn… controls your powers!”



Michael shook his head in violent protest, sitting up slightly to stare down at his accuser, “Not even, Parker! I’d know if I was doing it! I have to concentrate to do any damn thing with them sober! I’d know!”



Liz growled in frustration. Clearly Michael hadn’t studied the basics of psychology, “I supposed you had to concentrate really hard tonight to dance on my ceiling! Or to hear a…a… mouse fart in Idaho! Think about it Michael, alcohol… it makes you do things you might not otherwise.”



Seeing the disbelief on his face, she ran a weary hand over her face, forgetting for a moment, her battle with the sheet. It quickly yanked itself way from her chest leaving her exposed. She gasped, but looked at Michael as she grabbed the sheets back. His eyes had been glued firmly to her exposed skin. The look was by no by any means proof of his unconscious infringement, but it didn’t disprove it either.



“Just tell me one thing, Michael?” she asked through clenched teeth, her fingers beginning to cramp as she fought to keep the sheets on, “What were you thinking right before this happened?”



Michael scratched his eyebrow. She watched him look down at the broken clock in his hand. He quickly set it on the opposite nightstand. The answer should have been easy. He should have been thinking about the clock and focusing his energy on fixing that. But it wasn’t an easy answer for him she could see it. She remembered the look on his face, however brief, when her robe had fallen from her shoulder the first time. Hunger and desire had flickered for the briefest of moments in his eyes.



The finger at his eyebrow stopped its incessant clawing and he dropped his hand looking over at her, slack-jawed, “But… h-how…?”



She shifted to her side, looking up at him, calmly, “The subconscious mind, Michael. It’s very powerful when connected to… powers.” She explained hoping that would be enough of an explanation for him. Hoping it would be enough for him to realize it so he could try and stop it. The consistent pulling of the sheets spoke otherwise, “You said yourself, seeing a naked chick was not something you were going to look away from… Even it is… just me….”



She’d trailed off the last bit so quietly she was sure that even with Michael’s hypersensitive hearing; he wouldn’t have picked it up. So her confidence was faltering a bit, she was human, not above a little self doubt in her own, beauty. She tucked her chin against her chest, in part to keep the sheets against her, and also to hide the disappointment she’d been surprised by.



“You’re telling me that in this fucked up brain of mine, the alcohol kicked it into gear and is acting out what I want to happen subconsciously?” he asked pointing to his head, brows knitted together in thought.



“That’s my theory.” She said not looking up at him.



“That’s crazy.” He shook his head, chuckling as he lay back down on the pillow, resuming his perusal of the ceiling.



“Tell that to the sheets and knock it off.” She bit out. He found this funny? Just friggin’ great.



Michael nodded his head and closed his eyes, in an attempt to focus on something, anything other than seeing Liz Parker naked.



Moments passed and the tugging did not ease. Liz grew impatient and kicked at Michael’s shin with her foot, “Are you even trying?”



Michael looked over at her shrugging his shoulder, “What do you expect, Parker? It’s a bit difficult to try and not think about you being naked when you’re lying next to me… NAKED!”



“Well your fucked up brain won’t let me wear anything! So unless you’ve got another idea we’re stuck here, pal!”



“I could go home.” He offered, his voice actually softening. A peace offering of sorts amidst naked chaos, “At least there if I think of you naked, my powers can’t do anything about it.”



It was tempting to kick him out of her bed and send him home, but she was reminded of how they got in this predicament in the first place. How he’d ended up in her bed. How helpless, scared and out of control he’d been. And their current dilemma was proof that he wasn’t yet over his bout with the bottle.



“No.” She shook her head sparing him a sincere glance, “Not an option. With my luck you’d get on your bike and get in an accident. No, you’re in no shape to drive right now, even if you don’t feel the alcohol.”



“Nice to know you’ll put my safety above your modesty.” He said dryly.



“It’s more of a safety for the masses, thing Michael.” She sighed impatiently, “Remember what you did when Billy…was…” She’d watched his jaw clench at the name of his rival and immediately regretted saying his name, “Sorry I didn’t think…”



Michael shook his head waving his hand absently as he spoke, refusing to look at her, “Don’t worry about it. Yeah, it stings, but I’m over it.”



“But…” Liz was about to ask him why, if he was as he said ‘over it’, did he feel the need to get drunk.



“Let’s just concentrate on our current problem, Liz.” He said quickly, sparing a pleading glance her way.



Even in her battle with the still stubborn force pulling at the sheets, Liz started at Michael actually using her name. He’d only ever called her Liz when he was serious about something. She could tell by his tone and the sincere expression on his face that this… flare-up, while it had proved temporarily amusing was becoming embarrassing for both of them. She could practically see him fighting the humiliation. Was he really embarrassed that he’d thought of her naked?



She growled against the insistent pulling of the sheets, and the alarming thought that it bothered her that Michael, felt it wrong or even remotely disgusting to fantasize about her in any way. They needed to figure out something fast, but her struggle made it difficult to concentrate.



“Well Michael,” she grunted, glaring down at the sheet, “I’m all out of ideas. Your turn.”



She watched with annoyance as Michael brought his finger up to his eyebrow again, scratching at in thought. He was obviously in no rush to solve this problem.



Hope shone for a moment when he dropped his hand, his faced seemingly determined. That hope faded in an instant when his mouth curved into a smirk and he turned his body, propping himself up on one elbow, head resting comfortably in one of his large hands. She did not like the look on his face as he gazed down upon her. The leering quality of his gaze. The way he took a long moment to look her struggling body up and down. Nothing good would come out of his mouth, she just knew it.



“What?” she dared to ask, already mentally kicking herself for it.



“Well, I was thinking.” He brought his free hand up to one of her arms that were clutched against her body and the sheets. He drew a lazy line up and down her skin with a feather touch and she fought the goose bumps that appeared in their wake.



“W-Why does that scare me?” she stammered.



He ignored her, his eyes following his fingers, before meeting hers again. Black. They were black. The eyes only got that way for two reasons. To let in light. Or, because he was… No… He was not going to suggest…



“We could always follow my stubborn brain’s suggestion,” he licked his bottom lip slowly as he took he fingers away from her arm, his eyes never leaving hers, “Take the hint. Satisfy the…beast.”



Liz’s jaw dropped. The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t kidding. He was dead serious. She was indignant. She was outraged she was…



“Michael I am NOT having sex with you to stop your deviant powers!” She protested, her cheeks flushing with rage. The nerve! “That is the worst come on I have ever had!”



Michael seemed unfazed by her indignant protest, shifting closer to her, “Its either sex or your birthday suit becomes a known image in my fantasy file, Parker.”

Oh. So they were back to ‘Parker’. Nothing like a little emotional distance when things got too close, huh? Asshole. He was having entirely too much fun at her expense.



“Now there’s male logic!” She huffed, fighting the cramping her fingers as the sheets tugged even harder to loose themselves, “If I have sex with you, more than just my nakedness will be known to you.”



He arched an amused brow at her, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”



He tapped a finger to his mouth as if struck by an idea. It reminded her of Kyle. This whole scenario reminded her of Kyle. They were spending far too much time together. Deviant bastards.



“You know,” he finally said, drawing her glare back to him, “Max… He’s always wanted us to be… close.”



Liz snorted her disgust, “Pretty damn sure he meant ‘close’ figuratively, Jackass. Not literally!”



Michael shrugged his free shoulder, “I’m a literal guy.”



Liz rolled her eyes. Michael certainly did not lack confidence. Nor apparently a decency filter, “This is literally not going to happen. And for more reasons than Max being my boyfriend.”



He shook his head, giving her a pitying look, “If anyone needs a good lay, Parker, it’s you.”



“Well that’s just charming. Michael.” She spat, “Undressing me with your powers and sweet talking me like a car salesman. Really not making your case here.”



“If I entered into evidence my ‘energy source’, Counsellor, you would not be objecting so much.” He smirked at her again; his confidence amidst her rejection was staggering, Was he still drunk? “I’m three times the man Maxwell is. That would be figuratively and literally.”



“Peeked have you?” she asked finally having her turn at being entertained. He’d unwittingly opened himself up to that one.



“Nope. Basic math.” He tapped his temple with his index finger, “Small hands + small feet + small nose = a really small dick.”



Liz paused in her anger for a moment to ponder Michael’s equation, unconsciously glancing at his substantial, long hands, his prominent nose, and the large feet that were tenting the sheets at the end of her bed. She couldn’t help but pass her gaze back up his body to his sheet covered waist and the answer to that equation just beneath the confines of his boxers. His knowing chuckle broke her from her perusal and her cheeks once again flamed, anger and embarrassment fighting a battle within her.



“That’s a myth and you know it.” she covered quickly glancing down at her traitorous sheets, suddenly glad she had them to contend with instead of Michael’s hungry gaze.



“Not in my case,” he returned arrogantly.



She looked back over at him, not surprised to find the smug look on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him. No way was she going to let him know he was getting to her. Piquing her curiosity. Nope, not one damn bit, “Not really a theory I wish to test, Michael.”



He nudged her knee lightly with his own, cajoling her, “Aw, come on Parker. You know you live for hard tests.”



Liz was sure she was going to puke. Was he serious? Is this how he seduced Maria? Girlfriend left this part out in her many rants and raves about this man, “Did you take a class in sexual innuendo? Because you seriously need a refresher course! ‘Fuck me, or my powers will strip you,’ just doesn’t scream romance to a girl!”



Michael brought his free hand to her sheet covered leg, letting his fingers dance up the tensed expanse of her calf, the slight bend of her knee, squeezing it for a moment as she tried to flinch away reflexively. The action caused her to meet his eyes. Those damn eyes that seemed blacker every time she looked in them. His desire deeper, drawing her in.



He was being a horny… ass. She should be repulsed. He shouldn’t be trying to seduce her. But every time she looked in his eyes, the truth, rather than words he spoke, seemed to entrance her. Seduce her.



“Sex and romance don’t always go hand in hand,” He said, the low husky voice vibrating off her skin leaned closer, his breath dancing off the skin of her neck and chest. The hand at her knee boldly left its residence, travelling up her thigh. She dared to keep a hold of his eyes, her breath quickening with each centimetre lost between them. She watched helplessly as his face, which had momentarily hovered above hers, began to lower, his full lips moving as he spoke softly “Sometimes it’s about getting off.”



And just like that, a bucket of ice water in the form of bad sexual innuendo brought her to her senses. She reared back and away from the momentary temptation his mouth had offered. What the hell was she doing? And why was she contemplating it with Michael?



“Maybe for you, Michael, but I’m not that detached.” she hissed bitterly, his crassness stinging her pride. She brought her hands up, risking the exposure of her body, to place them on his chest, shoving him away from her, “Now get off!”



“I’m trying,” he chuckled unfazed by her snub and anger, “but you keep refusing.”



She felt her head might explode, from pure frustration, as she resumed her grip on the sheets. She realized her shove had done little to move him away from her. An ant trying to move a boulder seemed the adequate analogy. He’d humoured her by keeping his body back a bit, making her feel as if she’d initially accomplished moving him, but the skin of his legs were still pressed against her and she could feel the rumble of his laughter as his chest was pressed to her arm.



Was he not acquainted with personal space? Sure it was dark, but with the small amount of light that filtered in the room from the streetlamps, she was certain he’d already gotten an eyeful of the Body Elizabeth. Why did he feel the need to be touching someone he’d appeared to merely tolerate since her initiation into their world?



And why the hell wasn’t she scrambling out the bed like she should be?



“I keep refusing,” she explained heatedly, her body stiff with her fury, “because you undressing me with your eyes and then turning it into something literal with your powers, coupled with this whole smarmy, sleazeball thing, just really isn’t working for me!”



Michael rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed puff of air, “Okay I get it, you’re high-maintenance,” he ran a hand over his mouth in thought before meeting her exasperated gaze again, “Would foreplay help?”



“I’m high-maintenance? I had to scrape you off my ceiling tonight and am now in a serious battle with your powers to keep what dignity I have left!” Liz balked, unable to contain the righteous laughter that spilled from her lips, “Oh yeah, Michael foreplay would do wonders for me right now.”



She held a hand up when she saw his eyes sparkle with mischief, “Note the sarcasm.”



Instead of seeing him deflate before her, like most men would have, having their advances summarily rebuffed, she watched with a guilty fascination as he arched an eyebrow at her. Was he getting off on this?



“I bet you wouldn’t be so sarcastic if it was my tongue working wonders on you.” He said with far too much confidence. Where the hell did he get it?



Liz couldn’t help the blush that crept over her cheeks, as a brief mental picture of his suggestion danced across her brain. She rolled onto her back throwing a hand over her eyes to avoid his still yearning stare, and a defeated groan left her throat, “Why must my life, in this moment, resemble a bad porno flick.”



She could practically hear his eyebrow rise in intrigue. She took her arm away from her eyes, finding confirmation on his face, “Since when do you know anything about pornos, Parker? Do you watch them when Maxwell leaves you high and wet?”



“Max doesn’t leave me we…” she snapped, stopping herself far too late. The smirk on Michael face telling her the information she’d foolishly given him was already bouncing around his synapses, storing her slip for later exploitation.



She growled her disapproval, “It was a figure of speech, Michael. Pornos are so low brow, anyway,” she couldn’t help the smirk that came over her own face as she looked at him cocking her head to one side, “Huh. And yet you seem to be stealing lines from them as if they were your own personal guide to picking up women. Go figure.”



Michael didn’t flinch. Geez, was he really made of stone?



He seemed to eye her carefully, mimicking her by tipping his head at her, in study, “If I’m not getting to you, then why are you protesting so much?”



Now it was her turn to stare at him as if he’d been hatched on his head, “Gee… Maybe it’s because I don’t want to have sex with you for the sake of nudity everywhere!” She took a breath trying to calm her nerves, lower her voice, or her parents would walk in on an impossibly horrid situation, “You aren’t even trying to be remotely romantic. Some girls need that.”



He straightened his head, his smirk fading as he looked down at her, “I don’t do romance.”



She couldn’t fight her smile. She had him, “Then I… Don’t. Do. You.”



She had said each word clearly so he’d understand and mildly disturbed at the disappointment she felt that he might not heed her words. Was she really suggesting he try to romance her? That was wrong wasn’t it? Well?



She didn’t want to see him defeated, just… deflated. A little. That maybe she’d finally gained the upper hand in their mini battle for/against sex for the sake of power balance. She’d watched his face for a hint of anything.



Her only warning coming in the start of his low rumbling chuckle before the sheets she’d been fighting were yanked away, the force so strong she was unable to maintain her grip. She shrieked quickly covering her mouth, too stunned to contemplate why her first concern was waking her parents and not her completely exposed body, currently under heavy scrutiny by Michael’s heated gaze.



“Then I guess there’s no way to cover up,” He told her making a show of looking her up and down. She swore it was as if he was memorizing each curve of her body and how the light played off it. He gave a low whistle of appreciation as his eyes seemed to linger on the swell of her hip, following it up to the flat expanse of her stomach, “Tight, and firm. God, I love being right.”



“Michael!” Liz hissed doing her best to gather the protesting sheets back.



“Yeah you’re right,” he nodded, “It’s hardly fair. I mean, you did show me yours. I should show you mine.”



And before she could tell him to stop, Michael waved his hand over his boxers, causing them to disappear, leaving ALL of him for her to see.



She should have closed her eyes so tightly it would have taken surgery to reopen them, but her curiosity got the better of her and she kept them open, her gaze immediately zeroing in on the one place it shouldn’t. That little equation he’d mentioned earlier, nose, hands, feet… Damn him for being right about her need to test…



Holy…



Her eyes couldn’t help, but widen, but she caught herself before her jaw dropped. Damn him for being right. Large hands + long nose + big feet = One Huge Di…



“Did you have something to say, Parker?” he asked, snapping her head back up to his face. Oh he was quite pleased with her reaction. How the hell could he be so casual about being naked…? Granted he was gifted but…Wait, that wasn’t the point.



Point. No not point Her eyes flickered a down at him again as if on instinct, before she forced herself to keep her eyes locked on his smug expression. Damn him!



She tugged the sheets violently up against her chest and threw his back over him covering up his…covering IT up.



“I-I-I,” she stammered, mentally cursing herself for letting him see how seeing all of him had affected her.



“Could you, I don’t know, pick a consonant to go with that?” he asked her, smile firmly in place as he once again rested on his elbow to peer down at her.



Liz fought the urge to bitch slap the provocative grin off of his face, but took a page from Kyle and Buddha about not bringing violence to any creature, including aliens doing their impression of a dog in heat.



“You know all I have to do is scream,” she whispered harshly, “My dad would come in here and cut off your…myth” she glanced down at his now covered waist.



Michael shook his head, clicking his tongue softly. How the hell could he call her bluff? If it could be called that. She was sorely tempted to call in her father, just to see Michael running naked down Main Street with an angry parent hot on his heels, wielding a meat cleaver.



“Parker, you’re not going to scream,” He informed her with all the confidence in the world, “If you open your mouth to do anything, it’ll be to taste my myth.”



“How many times do I have to tell you before you get it?!” she raged. Why the hell did he have to be so frickin’ crude, “My mouth will not be on any part of your body until you learn a little goddamn respect!”



“I’ll respect you,” Michael shifted closer to her, his fingertips caressing her white knuckles, and his voice practically purring, “I’ll respect you ...All. Night. Long.”



Hmmm, where had she heard that before? Oh yeah in just about every formulaic teen sex comedy film she’d ever watched. Great, she was being seduced by Stiffler!



Exhausted she let out a whimper of defeat, “Yeah. All night long. And when it’s over you’ll leave. Pretend it never happened.” She sat up on her elbows so her face was level with his and narrowed her eyes. She had to hit him where it hurt and save herself the heartache in the process, “Guess you and Max really do have something in common. The good ol’ Fuck n’ Run. Tess fell for it Michael. I. Won’t.



Michael’s brow furrowed immediately. Yes! Direct hit.



“Whoa. Slow down.” He rose up slightly so he could take her in, she felt as if he were searching for something, “I- I’m not Max, Liz. I won’t… I won’t ditch you afterwards.”



What? He’d stammered. His confusion was… genuine. His eyes told her, quite vividly, she had wounded him. He was being…sincere? Where the hell did that come from?



“Are you kidding me?” she asked him earnestly, but couldn’t help the tremor in her voice. Laughter? Tears? She wasn’t even sure. “The way you’ve been coming onto me all night speaks otherwise, Michael.”



His eyes didn’t leave hers, they only seemed to sadden, and if it was possible his brows knitted even tighter, “You seriously think I’d do that? Ditch you?”



Not more than a breath earlier she was sure she had an answer. Without a doubt she knew he would leave her. But a look altered that absolute certainty. One look left her speechless and internally grappling for answers.



Her silence must have been enough as he hung his head, unable to look at her; the grey sheets suddenly the only thing that could hold his attention. His voice was so soft, all bravado gone, as he spoke, “Guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”



Disappointed. He felt disappointed. God. He felt!



Her heart pinched. She’d been so eager to see him falter, to knock him down a peg. But here he was knocked down, because of what SHE thought of him.



The truth was she DID know him. Or at least she thought she had a pretty good idea. This… his demeanour, his blasť attitude about something that was so important to her, had thrown her off terribly. How could she be blamed for thinking the worst of him, when that was all he’d shone her? She didn’t know it would reduce him to this, and she knew this wasn’t a game or some play for sympathy. It was real.



He was being real. Finally.



Liz turned on her side and brought a hand to Michael’s face, her palm cupping his chin, urging him look at her. He did so reluctantly and the pain in his eyes, even hidden behind the stray locks of hair that fell in them, took her breath away. She didn’t brush away the hair, knowing he needed something between them, even something as small as hair, as a wall. She almost smiled as she extended her fingers along the smooth line of his jaw. She’d been so ready to slap the face in her hands only moment and words earlier. Now… Well, now she was scared of what she wanted.



“I do know you, Michael,” she tried to explain, but saw the earned doubt lingering in his caramel depths. She’d usually been good with words, at easing people’s fears and doubts, but he was so difficult to get through to and she found herself faltering. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, taxing her brain for something he could grab onto and believe in, “It’s just… t-the way you talk about…sex… It’s just so…casual. To you…I don’t know, maybe it might be that easy. That simple. I-I just don’t have that luxury.”



“Because of Max?” he asked with understanding.



She shook her head and her body tensed at the mention of her… of Max. She couldn’t blame this on him. Well not all of it. She slid her hand away from Michael’s face resting it on the mattress space between them, her confidence was slipping at exposing this much of herself, her fears, and the things she held close to her heart. Suddenly being physically naked with Michael was the last thing she had to worry about. Suddenly this had become about more than the stripping of the body, but of the soul. They were both vulnerable and on shaky ground.



“It’s because of me,” she met him with tears in her eyes. So scared, “I can’t be a casual fling. I won’t be one. I’m sorry if that disappoints you. I know you think it’s stupid and prudish, but…” she sighed in resignation, “But maybe that’s just who I am.”



Michael’s hand slipped over hers on the bed, and he held her eyes, not looking away from the tears she was so afraid of shedding, “That is not who you are, Liz. It’s who they tell you to be.”



Was it really that easy? That simple an explanation? She’d held onto the perception of herself for so long and he was telling her she could rid herself of it in one night. In one act of passion?



“So, instead of guarding my virtue, I should toss it aside to anyone who wants it?” She asked him unable to contain the ripple of sarcasm in her voice. Nothing was that simple, “Virgin to slut with the snap of the fingers?”



His eyes narrowed, pinning her with a knowing stare that shook her, “What are you guarding it for Liz? Max?” he let out a snort of disgust, “He sure as hell doesn’t deserve it.”



“And you do?” she returned without thought.



She wasn’t going to give in so easily. Yes he’d touched her heart, but it wasn’t something she was comfortable with. Her heart was the only one allowed to give permission to her body. She wasn’t going to make him jump through hoops, but she wanted him to know there was work to be done on his part.



“No,” he answered pointedly. He took his hand away from hers, scratching his eyebrow, “But I’m not pretending I do, like he does. I want what I want, Liz. I’m just letting you know.”

That was the understatement of the millennium.



She sighed, reaching her hand up and taking the one clawing at his brow in her own, resting them back on the bed, “I know you don’t pretend, Michael,” she smiled softly, “It’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated about you. But…” Her hand squeezed his, hoping for his understanding, “But it’s still not a reason for me to just… give in.”



He moved his body so slightly, she’d didn’t even register it until she felt the hand that had been covering hers, rise to her shoulder, his thumb stroking the bare skin and his breath fanning across her cheeks as he looked down at her. Her hand had risen up to his chest in an unconscious protest, stubborn doubt and fear needing to put up some sort of resistance. His eyes were so dark and smouldering, she had to look down and away from their intensity, focusing instead on the contrasting colours of their skin. His pale and pressed against hers, tanned and both so warm… and dangerously willing.



“You want a reason?” she heard him ask softly. His warm hand left its gentle caress of her shoulder and she felt his fingers tipping her chin to look at him. She found herself lost inside his eyes again. So honest. So full of desire…for her. His mouth was so close to her own, just a matter of inches and they could touch. Undo her. And she would let him, “Because you want to give in.”



Why couldn’t she own half of his confidence? Where had he procured this knowledge of her? When had she given him reason to have faith in her? To believe what he spoke of her was true?



“You’re so sure?” She said not flinching away from him. It came out as a question, but could have just as easily been a statement. He was so sure of her…of them. She needed…wanted more. She wanted that confidence in their actions, “You say you won’t ditch me, but… But what happens… after?”



“Whatever you want to happen, Liz.” His expression, eyes hadn’t changed.



Liz couldn’t stand it. She looked away, letting his hand fall away from her face, but content to let him still touch her letting it rest on her arm, as she whispered softly, “You don’t want that.”



She was sure he didn’t want… that. It was too much. He’d been hurt. He’d committed to Maria and she’d abandoned him. He wasn’t ready for that, even if she could be. It should have bothered her that she was technically in a committed relationship with Max, and here she was mulling over an even deeper one with Michael.



It should have bothered her, but it didn’t. She’d realized for a while that neither she nor Max were as committed as they should be. He’d come so close to leaving her so many times and she was giving less and less of her heart to him because of it. Michael scared her, because she knew she could trust him, despite Maria’s protests to the contrary. He was solid. Loyal. But it was too soon. He wouldn’t be ready.



His voice wavered the slightest beat as he spoke, so scared to admit what he wanted, “You’d be surprised how long I’ve wanted that.”
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Disclaimer: Roswell is copyrighted by the WB, Jason Katims, Melinda Metz. We do not claim that these characters are our own, we're only borrowing them for a little while. All crossover characters are property of their repective copyright holders. This archive was created specifically as a repository of the stories formerly housed on PolarAttraction.com/PolarAttraction.net, and new stories created for the 1999-2002 television show Roswell. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from these work. No copyright infringement is intended.