Touch, Peel and Stand 1/1 (ADULT) 7/16/05

[Peachykin]

Title: Touch, Peel and Stand

Author: Peachykin

Pairing: Michael/Liz

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Roswell and is characters belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB and UPN. No infringement intended. <i>Touch, Peel, and Stand</i> was written and performed by Days of the New. They own it. I just wrote a story inspired by it.

Distribution: Please ask. Otherwise it stays with Polar Attraction.

Summary: A challenge from the evil and wonderful Belinda, set to <i>Touch, Peel and Stand</i> by Days of the New. Two friends share some very close quarters. Thanks to Courtney for playing beta and helping me with lyric placement. You are a goddess.


~*~

Liz sat in the packed, smoke filled club, flanked by Kyle and Isabel. Maria sat next to Kyle looking around the crowded room for their missing compatriot. Max sat next to Isabel tapping his foot and mimicking Maria’s hyper perusal of the room.

“Max, you’re going to snap your neck if you keep jerking it around like an owl on crack,” Isabel grumbled at him over the crowd noise.

“He should be here by now, Isabel,” Max spat, snapping his gaze to his sister, brow furrowed, frustrating clear in every twitch of his muscle, “We got the tickets for him remember? His birthday? You’d think he’d show up by now.”

Liz rolled her eyes at her former flame’s annoyance with his brother. They’d been living just outside Seattle now, for the better part of the year. Trips into the big city were rare, and much anticipated. A chance to a concert, even more uncommon.

But when Kyle had been scanning the paper a month earlier he saw that the former lead singer of one of the bands Michael listened to, Days of the New, was doing his solo act at the Showbox Theater in downtown Seattle. And at ten dollars a ticket they could all afford to go out as a group and celebrate the grumpy alien’s date of hatching… or whatever they wanted to call it.

Isabel agreed right away, knowing the music wasn’t her style, but it was Michael’s birthday and any streamers or balloons would be instantly fried the moment he walked in the door. A lesson learned a year prior. Singed rubber was not a smell she wanted to be reacquainted with.

Liz had agreed, beyond needing a night out, after serving the masses at yet another local hotspot in the small town they nestled themselves in. Maria had pitched a fit about the music choice, but when Kyle pointed out they could leave her at home to work another late night shift at the music store, she begrudgingly quieted and accepted her Friday night fate.

Max, surprisingly, had been all for it, having been at a loss for what to give Michael. However, he’d taken over Isabel’s Nazi-like tendencies in the organization of the celebration. From what time shifts were off, to the amount of time the girls spent on their hair. He’d calculated the time it would take them to get there, with or without traffic, only to have the whole thing blow up in his face when Michael informed him, he wouldn’t be getting off of his shift at the saw mill until the appointed time of departure.

And so there they were, the show minutes away from starting, still no sign of the guest of honor, and Max nearing spontaneous combustion at the prospect of Michael missing the opening bars of the concert.

“You know, you could cut the guy some slack. He does have the furthest to drive in from work.” Liz finally said, to the still agitated Max, “It takes him a half hour to get to the mill from where we live, plus another hour getting <i>here</i>.”

Max gave Liz a brief glare for defending Michael, but was drawn away by Kyle’s addition, “Yeah and you know, it is the guy’s birthday. He can be casually late if he wants to, Emperor Anal.”

Max looked away shaking his head, and resuming his search for the birthday boy… man… Whatever.

Over the crowd noise Liz heard the tinny jingle of, <i>“Bad to the Bone”</i>and smirked tapping Kyle on the arm before he could level another sardonic insight at Max, “Kyle, Either your dick can sing, or someone is trying to reach out and touch you.”

Kyle gave her a funny look, before the digital song made its way to his ears. He quickly threw his hand in his pocket and grabbed the phone, waving off Liz’s clear amusement at his choice in ringtones.

“Kyle’s House of Satisfied Beauties. How may I help you?” he greeted the caller earning rolled eyes from all the women at the table. He brought his mouth away from the receiver making sure to look them all in the eye, “Don’t worry. I have you ladies penciled in for sometime next week.”

“Try next to never, Puny Pistolero,” Maria huffed, turning her back on him.

Kyle’s attention returned to the caller and his eyes widened, “That you, Guerin?”

Maria whipped around making a grab for the phone. Luckily Kyle was quick enough and dodged before she could reach it.

“If that’s Michael, tell him to get his tardy ass down here now,” she said, her voice rising so Michael could hear her on the other end, “I didn’t schlep all the way to smoky club to listen to crappy music, for fun.”

“No,” Kyle batted her hand away, “Because doing otherwise would <i>not</i> be bitchy.”

Maria glared finally giving up, grumbling, “Tell him to move his ass.”

Liz could here Michael’s voice yelling to get Kyle’s attention and he put the phone back to his ear, “Seriously, Dude. How far out are you? Because I think if you don’t get here soon, Max and Maria might chew their own legs off to escape.”

Liz watched Kyle’s face as he listened to Michael on the other end. She saw amusement, mischief and damn near glee take over his face with every, “Uh huh,” and, “Yeah,” that he uttered. That couldn’t be good.

When he hung up the phone Max looked over at him opening his mouth to demand answers, but Kyle stood bringing his hand up, “Surprisingly Max, he didn’t want to talk to you. Can’t imagine why.” He looked at Isabel and Liz, “He said he’s about 20 minutes away, and to have a soda waiting for him when he gets here. Which is what I’m fetching now. Anyone else want something?”

Isabel requested a Spicy Virgin Mary, Maria a margarita, Max asked for a coke and Liz held up her still half full seltzer indicating she was good. He patted her shoulder, before walking towards the bar, “Always the easiest to please.”

“Not always,” Max grumbled, leveling pained eyes at Liz.

She sighed. That’s right they couldn’t go one friggin’ day without Max griping about their break-up of nearly a year earlier.

He’d offered to change. To do what she wanted, even risk a visit to her parents if she wanted, but she’d flatly refused. He couldn’t get past the simple fact that the love and trust she’d once had in him was gone. Irretrievable. No amount of backpedaling and grand gestures of romance were going to woo her back. Thus relegating her to the land of high maintenance in Max’s mind and heart.

Isabel snorted, “Gee, Max, you managed to avoid the none-too-subtle digs at Liz on the whole car ride over. I thought you were going to last the night.”

Max looked away over at the bar and Kyle, and Liz caught the, “sorry,” that escaped his lips, albeit begrudgingly.

Maria leaned over Kyle’s chair to whisper in her friend’s ear, “Nearly a year of torture, Liz. You proved your point. Things needed to change. At least try.”

Liz rolled her eyes again, feeling for sure if she had to do it once more they would disappear into the back of her head. She lowered her voice to an even tone, “Maria, its dead. Like you and Michael. Dead. I suggest you get over it. I am.”

Maria’s eyes flashed with anger as she sat back, “Michael and I aren’t d…. We’re just in one of our hiatus periods.”

Isabel chuckled behind Liz’s shoulder, “A two year hiatus? Yeah, Maria. Stick a fork in it.”

Maria crossed her arms, “Great chica support here,” she pouted, shifting in her seat a little, her voice lowered so they could barely hear her over the crowd noise, “I…I think he’s seeing someone.”

Liz sipped her seltzer and shrugged her shoulders, “Good for him.”

Maria balked at Liz’s casual acceptance, “Hello! Best friend here, in some serious heartache. I could use a little sympathy.”

Liz slammed down her drink at Maria’s request, “I am being a best friend. What you’re feeling is not heartache; it’s the freakin’ loss of control over him. He moved on and it’s driving you nuts. That’s not love, Maria. It’s just screwed up.”

“Of course you sympathize with, Michael!” Max groused, “You two are in the same boat! Not giving a rat’s ass about the people you hurt!” He sat back in his chair letting out a disgusted puff of air, “Do you two compare notes on just how to twist the dagger to get the maximum pain?”

Liz balled her fists up on her skirt, contemplating on whether to yell, walkout, or bitchslap Max and Maria into whimpering puddles. Deciding none of the options, while possibly entertaining, was appropriate. She felt Isabel slip a hand on her arm patting it. At least she understood.

She opened her eyes slowly, trying to project calm and serenity, “Could we not argue, please? I’m pretty sure Michael doesn’t want to walk in on Chapter 999 of, <u><i>‘Why Michael and Liz Suck.’</i></u> I don’t remember bickering being on his wish list at any point.”

Isabel let out a giggle next to her, “Actually as long as he only had to watch, he’d probably Tivo it.”

Liz let out an involuntary laugh. Isabel had a point. Kyle and Michael got a particular thrill out of seeing Max and Maria experiment with various shades of red in their faces during arguments. Wicked brats.

Kyle returned to the table just in time with a tray of drinks. He looked over the four, seeing Isabel and Liz laughing, while Maria and Max, were turning a wonderful shade of vermillion.

“Awww,” he mock pouted setting the tray on the table, “I missed another episode of, <i>Days of Our Whines,</i> didn’t I?”

Isabel clucked her tongue, “Abbreviated version.”

“Damn,” Kyle snapped his fingers, and then reached down to pass drinks out, “Oh well, Is, here’s your Mary. Extra Spicy. Thank me; the chick looked at me like I was trying to poison you.”

“Such a martyr,” she teased accepting the drink.

He gave Maria her margarita, which she immediately dove into, setting it down roughly and placing her hands on her temples.

“Yeah, watch out for the brain freeze there, Deluca,” Kyle chuckled, “Grown- up slushies are still pretty damn cold.”

He ignored Maria’s middle finger setting a tall skinny glass filled with an amber colored, bubbling drink where Michael would be sitting.

“Don’t tell me he ordered a beer?” Max balked.

“Ginger-ALE, Miss Prohibition,” Kyle corrected with a quite satisfied with smirk when Max backed off. He picked up another glass setting it in front of the dark-haired man, “Your Coke, Sir. You’ll notice it’s in the same type of glass as the ginger-ale. Note worthy.”

Max grabbed the drink taking a rough swig; Kyle sat down, seeming to watch his frenemy over the lip of his own glass of beer.

The house lights dimmed for a moment, signaling the show’s impending start and Liz smiled. Finally some music to drown out the bitterness.

A groan came from beside Isabel and Max set his drink down knocking it over as he pulled his hand away to hold his head.

“What’s wrong, Max?” Isabel asked, “Too much ice?”

Max looked up at her face paling before the group, eyes glassy, “Too much bourbon.” He slurred, squinting his eyes to try and focus on Kyle, “You asshole.”

Kyle held up his hands, “Hey pal, I ordered you a coke. Not my fault they got it wrong.”

“Dammit.” Liz hissed, “Had to be bourbon. Not only does it send him into loopy land, but in about a minute we’re going to get a replay of Max’s lunch… in reverse.”

“Sooner,” Max groaned again throwing a hand over his mouth, threatening to turn green before their eyes.

Liz immediately rose from the table, walking around Isabel to lift Max up by the arm, “I’ll take him to the mens’ room.”

Isabel rose to help Liz take her brother, but she shook her head, “Someone should enjoy the show. And you and Kyle will, just for Michael’s sake.”

“You sure, Liz?” Kyle asked glancing over at Maria, suggesting she was a better choice to take Max to his throne.

Liz shook her head as Maria’s face twisted in disgust and she shifted her chair further away from them. She pulled Max roughly along towards the long dark hallway they’d come down when they entered the club.

When they entered in the empty hallway they heard the emcee on stage getting the crowd revved up, and ready for the show. She could hear Kyle’s, “Yeeeeeeeehaw!” and might have allowed herself to laugh were she not so focused on getting Max to the bathroom, before she became his personal puking grounds.

They passed by the coatroom, and Liz found her salvation one door over, when she saw a the bright white glow of the little stick man on the door, against the black light used when the show was going.

She stopped Max in front of the door opening it for him and lightly pushing on his shoulder to encourage him, “Go on, Max. Find a toilet bowl and start praying.”

Max resisted turning around and giving her a sloppy grin, “See, you always take care of me somehow.” He shuffled closer until his head was hovering over hers, the fumes from alcohol causing her to cough, “It’s always been you, Liz.”

Liz brought her hand up placing it open-palmed over Max’s face and pushed him back, his back striking the door with a dull thud, “Its going to be all <i>over</i> me if you don’t get in there.”

Max tried to straighten himself to argue, but his face paled again as he swayed and he quickly spun on his heels and ran into the bathroom.

Liz looked toward the end of hall she and Max had come down seeing the stage from her vantage point. She’d been so busy fending off Max’s lame advances she’s missed the introduction. The opening bars of a song made its way through her ears, and the bass began to thrum through her body.

A smile touched her lips. She’d heard this song many times before. Michael was never one for the delicacy of the other’s ears, but this artist was all acoustic. All voice, all lyrics that didn’t paint pretty pictures of love grand. She admitted finding him a guilty pleasure.

Max’s retching broke her enchantment by the song, and she walked down the hall further, not wanting to associate <i>Touch, Peel, and Stand</i>, with the Max’s involuntary bout with booze.

As she continued her journey down the hallway, slowly, swaying to the beat, she got the feeling she wasn’t alone. Sure there was Max in the bathroom, but this, it was as if it was a finger drawing up her spine. Watching the sway of her hips and the way the material of her skirt danced around her thighs.

<i>“Since I know how low to go
I won’t let it show…”</i>

Suddenly she felt a hand clamp over her mouth and an arm wrap around her waist. Her eyes widened and she tried to scream but the large palm muffled her cry for help. She felt her feet leave the ground as she was pressed up against a hard male body. She flailed her arms trying to strike a blow against her attacker, but he held her firmly as he pulled her into the dark recesses of the coatroom.

She could feel his breath against her cheek and the wild beating of his heart against her back. She struggled more when she felt his arousal pressed against her backside. Great the one time she needed Max to pull the white knight routine again and he was… indisposed.

She tried to open her mouth to bite his palm but the man’s hand wouldn’t allow it, so she tried let out another scream, knowing it would be useless; muffled by strong muscles and long fingers.

<i>”Won’t you touch me, touch me
I won’t let it go…</i>

“Shhhh!” he insisted as he pulled her further back into the coatroom, “Shhhhhhh! Parker, its me. Now, unless you want Maxwell and bouncers in here I suggest you shut up.”

When, his voice finally registered with her, “me’s” identity was solved, but didn’t immediately relax in his arms, her fear still holding her muscles tense. His hand at her mouth came away and she could only pant his name in a scant whisper.

“Michael….”

“Shhhhhh…” he whispered softly this time, his hot breath fanning over her neck.

The hand at her waist had loosened and she took a step away to turn and face him, but gasped when he pulled her back against him roughly, a low warning growl rumbling from his throat, that spoke clearly for her not to move.


She swallowed audibly, feeling his free had caress her hip, gathering up some of the material of her skirt so he could dip lower running work worn hands over the back of her thigh.

<i>“And now I stand, and I peel for more…”</i>

She squirmed under his touch, earning reprimand with the tightening of his hand at her waist. When she obeyed, remaining still, his hand loosened a bit, the pads of his fingers paying with the bare strip of skin on her stomach her tank top failed to cover.

She knew it was wrong, but she felt herself relaxing under Michael’s touch, her heart still recovering from her scare a few moments earlier, now began a different beat. One of desire and raw lust, just with a few touches.

She melted against the hard lines of his body as, his scent filled her. The woodland smell that came from working in the saw mill, mixed with his sweat and aftershave lotion. Subtle scents that intoxicated her. Who needed alcohol when there was Michael?

<i>“Won’t you touch me, touch me
I won’t let it go…</i>


The hands at her thigh moved over one barely covered globes of her backside, snapping the lace of her panties as if in retribution for deigning to wear them. The hand at her stomach moved up over the fabric of her shirt and caressing her ribs.

His lips were soft on her shoulder, moving over the back of her neck to the other shoulder, and she was suddenly grateful she’d worn her hair up tonight. Goosebumps rose against her skin as she felt the dart of his tongue against her pulse. She tipped her head back to give him better access, her hips moving against his with each touch.

Both of his hands rose to cup her breasts and he let out a low moan discovering they were unencumbered by a bra. She smiled almost wickedly, delighting in the fact that she’d surprised him with her daring attire, or lack of it. Yes, Liz Parker could be naughty.

Clearly.

<i>“Yes, I’ve finally found a reason
I don't need an excuse…”</i>

She brought her arms up tracing her fingers over his freshly shaven face, the bridge of his prominent nose and the furrow of his brow, before sinking them into the soft curls of his hair.

His movements grew more urgent, his hands kneading her breasts a little too roughly and the kisses he’d been dropping on her neck and shoulders, turning into bites, the scrape of his teeth against her skin causing her to let out a soft whimper.

But she loved it.

<i>“I’ve got this time on my hands
You are the one to abuse…”</i>

He wasn’t being cautious or careful. He was being Michael. Who cared nothing for delicate things or beings. And in his hands she was his to abuse, and she was so willing to be.

He ignored her whimper dropping one hand, only to have it delve beneath her shirt, purposely running the calluses of his fingers and palm over her skin, cupping her breast resuming its rough kneading. His other hand took a more southerly route, lifting the material of her skirt just enough so he could rip away her panties without warning or preamble.

She shrieked at the loss, but curiously turned on by the force of it. He took his mouth away from her neck to hush her again, his fingers threading themselves through the small dark patch of curls, now shamelessly wet for him. When had that happened? How had this all started?

God, she didn’t want it to stop.

<i>“You’re always talking back to me
You won’t let it be…”</i>

As he ran one finger over her wet core teasing her she pressed her hips cruelly back against his intentionally applying too much pressure, in an attempt to tease him as much as he was her.

It seemed to backfire terribly when she heard him growl in frustration and felt both hands fall away, leaving her feeling cold and wanting. She looked over her shoulder, but could see nothing in the darkness but the shadowy outline of head as it leaned down resting between her shoulders, his breath coming out in short pants against her skin.

Had he changed his mind? Was he regretting this momentary indiscretion? How could he? He was compulsive. Passionate. What had she done to kill that?

<i>“Won’t you touch me, touch me
It never bothered you before…”</i>

“Michael…Wha…?” She began to whisper but was cut off when Michael’s head whipped up and his hands gripped both of hers spinning them around until she felt her chest against the wall.

“Shhhhhhhh…” came his whisper in her ear, and she swore she felt and heard the smirk in his voice and on his lips against her skin.

He pressed his body more fully into hers, pushing her more into the wall, forcing her head to turn and rest her cheek against it. He brought her hands up with his flattening them against the wall above her head, giving her wrists a firm squeeze as he brought his down. Don’t move.

She admitted fear, mixed in with excitement of Michael actions. She was unsure of what was to happen next, but all she knew was she didn’t want to miss a moment of it, so she “obeyed,” splaying her fingers out against the worn plaster, knowing Michael could see them even in the darkness.

<i>“Now I stand, and I peel for more…”</i>

He stepped away from her body, and the sound of his zipper being drawn down, and the rustle of denim as his jeans slid down his lean legs, touched her ears. Her cheeks flamed in the dark as she bit her lip in anticipation.

Wow. Got right down to business didn’t he?

Why the hell not? He wasted no time in life, why should sex be any different? Not to mention the fact that Max was merely a room over and his bout with bourbon would soon be over and he’d come looking for her. Stumbling on his ex-girlfriend being impaled by his bro…

<i>“Won’t you touch me, touch me
I won’t let it go…”</i>

Her rambling thoughts halted immediately when she felt the hard press of his body against hers, his hands lowered to her skirt, yanking the material up over her hips. He ran his work worn hands over the soft skin of her backside and she could hear him wet his lips in appreciation. She closed her eyes at the feel of erection repeating the action of his hands, as he pulled on her hips bringing her lower body out slightly to meet his.



He stepped between her legs sliding his arousal against her core, one hand kneading her hip, as the other traveled up her back, she felt him press down ensuring she was staying put. He needn’t worry. He had her right where she wanted to be…Almost.

<i>“Yes, I’ve finally found a reason
I don't need an excuse…”</i>

His hand continued upwards and fisted into her hair, grasping it tightly. At the same moment she nearly screamed as he entered her body in one firm swift motion, filling her to the hilt. She hadn’t been expecting it, but the suddenness and almost violence of it sent a thrill through her body, her body warming with every touch.

He was taking her without care. And she wanted more.

She got what she wanted, when she felt his hand twist in her hair, a slight burning at her scalp as he repeated the action, hard and rough, and her feet nearly leaving the floor with the force. She let out a moan, of pleasure, almost daring him to go further with this game. She could take it if he could give it.

She could feel the labored breaths that came from his mouth, they bore a frustration in them. He wanted to make her scream. His name. God’s. Who cared?

<i>“I’ve got this time on my hands
You are the one to abuse…”</i>

She smirked against the wall, knowing he couldn’t see her. She started to bring her arms away from the wall and began to take her lower body away from his, despite having him still inside her. A primal growl loosed from his throat and the hand at her hips grabbed at both her wrists almost slamming them against the wall.

He pushed himself back into her body further, pressing her fully against the wall and the hand in her hair pulled back in retribution for her attempt at escape.

“Stay.” He growled pulling back and up into her to punctuate his order.

“Yes,” she gasped as he began to pick up his speed, his thrusts still hard and demanding.

<i>“The one to abuse…”</i>

She ached at nearly every point of her body. His tight grip on her wrists and her arms stretched to an impossible length. The violence of his movements causing her skin to rub against the rough plaster of the wall, and her hardened nipples scraping against the inside of her shirt.

Every thrust he made hit home and she knew she’d feel it in the morning, but all the pain she was enduring only seemed to heighten the excitement of the moment and the hot licks of fire through her veins concentrating on her womb. He’d barely touched her clit, but the vibration of his cock slamming roughly inside her combined with his breath loud and angry in her ear, was sending her into a near blissful state, and she could feel her release drawing closer with every well timed thrust.

<i>“I’ve got this time on my hands
I’ve got this…”</i>

She let out whimpers and moans as he drove impossibly harder into her, the overworked amps throbbing through the walls as the guitar-heavy bridge wound down. She knew he was getting close himself when his hand left her wrists and hair and settled on her hips, holding on as his thrusts grew wild and out of sync.

“Fuck…” He grunted harshly in her ear and she felt herself coming undone, at the obscenity. At his control only a moment away from slipping. Yes, he’d dominated her. Taken her. Fucked her. But she’d brought him to this point and it too was powerful.

<i>“You are the one to abuse…”</i>

No longer able to hold on she gave into the waves of pleasure that rushed through her body, she scratched at the wall as she called out Michael’s name, screaming it, knowing no one could hear her over the singer out front.

The hands at her hips squeezed so hard, she cried out, as Michael slammed into her one last time her name a long drawn out growl as she felt his stomach flex against her back with his release. His body shook for a moment as the pleasure waned from his body.

<i>“The one to abuse…”</i>

He took one of the hands at her hip and rested it against the wall covering hers, and she felt the weight of his slack body press her even more against the wall. Not that she minded. He bent his head resting his damp brow against one shoulder. The song coming to its end and the crowd erupting into a furious round of cheers and applause.

When he gathered his strength back, Liz felt him pull out, and they both hissed at the loss. He bent down to pull up his jeans and she righted her skirt, scanning the darkness for her panties. Yeah right. Dark room. Little black lace underwear. THAT was going to happen.

“Looking for these?” Michael chuckled his hand illuminating the room slightly. She squinted against the light seeing her repaired panties dangling from on of his finger, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

She tried to glare snatching them from him and slipping them back on, “What did you stuff them in your pocket?”

He shrugged, “Thought about keeping them as a trophy, but that skirt is a little short, and you’re not the commando type.”

“Not in public.” She corrected as she took a step towards him, “So, <i>that</i> was interesting.”

He frowned, “What? No, ‘Happy Birthday, Michael?’”

She rolled her eyes, “I think letting you fuck me up against a wall in a coatroom, during a concert, constitutes that salutation. Roughly.”

Michael laughed, using his free hand to pull at her waist, leaning down to kiss her fiercely, his tongue as rough and invading as he’d been with his body a few minutes earlier.

They broke apart when they heard Max retching again in the bathroom. And he placed a hand on her back as he guided her out of the coatroom, “You know, one of these days he’s going to catch us. What are you going tell him then?”

Liz turned around, smiling when they spilled into the hallway, “Not that I owe him an explanation, but I’ll tell him the truth, “ she paused sidling up to him, running a finger over his now softened cock, feeling it come to life slightly under her touch, “That Kyle’s too short to fuck.”

Michael let out a short laugh, followed by an aroused growl as she continued to run her hand over his growing erection. She looked up at him playfully, “Besides, you know half the reason you get off on screwing me, is doing it right under Max’s nose.”

He snorted in amusement, “ Hi, Pot. My name is Kettle. Nice to meet you.”

She threw her head back laughing. It was true. She got off just as much as Michael did, on their secret arrangement. She applied slight pressure to his hardening cock in answer and his eyes clamped shut a sharp grunt escaping his throat.

He opened his darkened eyes, bringing his arms around her waist pulling her roughly against his body and leaning down to whisper, “You know I paid the coat guy twenty bucks to get lost, we still have a few minutes.”

She shook her head pushing him back, “Nuh uh. My turn next. And what I have in mind takes much, much more time… and handcuffs.”

He raised an eyebrow leaning against the wall and crossing one foot over the other casually, “I thought you said it was your turn next.”

“Oh, I’ll make you beg. Count on it.” She mimicked his stance on the other side of the hallway, “You’ve been here since you called Kyle haven’t you?”

He brought his hand up to his mouth, casually biting at his thumbnail, unable to contain his grin, “How’d you know?”

She shrugged, “I thought it had a, <i>‘the call is coming from inside the house,’</i> feel to it. Good thing I figured it out too or you would have grabbed your sister for a little coatroom incest.”

Michael shuddered at the though, taking a moment to look at her legs making his way slowly up, “Thanks for wearing that skirt. Made things much easier.”

She smirked back at him, “Like if I’d been wearing pants, you wouldn’t have made them ass-less chaps with a wave of your all powerful hand.”

His eyebrows rose a little too high, and she realized she’d just given him and idea or two for his next fantasy and groaned at the visual. Ride ‘em cowboy. Actually that didn’t sound too horrible. She looked up when she heard his low chuckle and he winked her. Deviant minds think alike.

And so their game continued. It had started nearly two years prior after a rather heated argument. One minute they were yelling at each other about the proper placement of the coffee mugs in the cupboard, and the next minute he had her bent over the kitchen counter, the dirty dishes in the sink rattling with their movements.

They both knew what they had would never even come close to resembling love. It was pure animal lust. A mutual need to dominate, and be dominated, after the relationships they’d been in. They’d take turns with their fantasies. Nothing ever really planned… Well, the more elaborate trysts were, but their encounter became ones of opportunity and desire.

They trusted each other. Were attracted to one another, but were never confined by love. Friends with benefits if you will. If it ended, it ended. But for now, it was fun, naughty, and felt damn good. They knew it could end the moment Max or Maria figured it out or walked in on them. And that was part of the fun. The possibility of getting caught.

She watched Michael carefully as he stood casually across from her, his eyes roaming over her body in an almost lurid fashion, “Did you forget something?” she asked.

He shook his head nonchalantly as his eyes fixed on her breasts, “Just a little disappointed. The one time you don’t wear a bra in public and I only got to feel the goods.”

She snorted straightening against the wall, “Michael, I am <i>not</i> flashing you…”

The door to the men’s room swung open and Max stumbled out wiping his face with a wet paper towel. He looked to the side seeing Liz giving her a dopey smile, and then another presence caught his eye and his grin faded.

“So it’s not enough that you’re late, but now you’re trying to get Liz to flash her ti…herself?” He asked accusingly, point a finger in Michael’s chest.

Michael lightly shoved him away, waving a hand in front of his face at the toxic mix of fumes coming off his brother’s breath, “Relax, Maxwell. It was a joke. I just got here and ran into Liz…”

“Repeatedly.” She added impishly from behind Max, earning a pointed glare from Michael.

“She told me you’d been drinking…” he continued, before Max interrupted him blowing out an annoyed puff of air.

“Yeah, like I’d order alcoholic ipecac…” he said angrily his face paling again and his head shifted back to the men’s room.

Michael grumbled putting his hand over Max’s stomach sending a healing energy through it. Max stopped swaying, and his body straightened. He blinked looking around, seeing Liz still leaning against the wall behind him and Michael.

Michael took his hand away from Max’s stomach and pushed past him, he jerked his head at Liz, indicating they should get to the concert, “Why thank you, Michael. You spared me from a night spent hovering over dirty toilet.”

Max said nothing, shoving his hands in his pockets and falling in step behind them. Michael leaned down mumbling softly to Liz, “He’s glaring isn’t he?”

She looked back and saw Max practically boring a hole into the back of the taller man’s head. When he saw Liz looking at him, he darted his eyes down to his feet, and she could practically see his cheeks flaming, no doubt remembering what a jackass he’d made of himself during his brief inebriation.

They returned to the group, in the middle of the performer’s second song. Max sheepishly slid into his chair, eying the glass of coke that had betrayed him. Isabel patted his shoulder and told her she’d gotten him a new one. Bourbon free. He nodded his thanks and took a tentative sip from the new glass, before turning his attention to the show.

Liz watched Maria open her mouth to berate Michael about his tardiness, but he held his hand, “For once. On my birthday. Shut. Up.” He requested, nonchalantly.

She glared, announcing she had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. She looked over at Liz, who shook her head adamantly.

“I just got back from there, Ria. And I am not in the mood to bitch about Michael.” She told her firmly. Hell no, not after the Great Coatroom Incident.

Maria threw her arms in the air and stormed off to the bathrooms. Liz’s attention broke away from the fuming girl when she heard Isabel whispering in her ear, “So, hallway or…”

“Coatroom.” Liz nearly giggled and Isabel sat back applauding the ingenuity.

Isabel and Kyle had long been in on the secret when the oddly matched duo happened on them one afternoon when both Max and Maria were at work, and they’d stolen a moment of their own thinking the house was empty. When the awkwardness passed an unspoken bond formed between the four. You scratch my back and I’ll make sure yours get molested.

Liz’s attention turned to Michael and Kyle beside her. She saw Michael trying to hand Kyle a twenty dollar bill, but the shorter man grinned waving it off, “Consider it my gift you on this most somber of occasions. Your hatching.”

Michael slapped his back in thanks and made to turn to focus on the show, but Kyle pulled something out of his shirt pocket, “Thought you might want to keep this,” he said handing Michael a small slip of paper, “As a momento.”

Michael opened the paper frowning at it, “Are you kidding? This is evidence.”

Liz saw his hand start to glow subtly, ready to burn up the paper, but she moved quickly snatching it out of his hand.

“Hey!” Both he and Kyle called out, but a stern glare from her set them back in their chairs, both men looking anywhere but at her.

Liz looked down at the mysterious paper and found it was a receipt for the drinks Kyle had ordered earlier. She scanned over each item her jaw dropping at what she at the bottom:

<i> Strawberry Margarita</i>- Maria
<i>Spicy Virgin Mary</i>-Isabel
<i>Ginger-ale</i>- Michael
<i>Coke</i>-Max
<i>Boilermaker</i>….

Kyle was only nursing a beer… Which mean the bourbon shot that went with it had ended up in…

Liz looked up at Michael and Kyle, both men sipping their drinks while trying not to laugh. She shook her head, destroying the paper in the palm of her hand with a surge of power.

As she dusted off her hands she turned to Isabel asking loudly enough over the music do that Michael could hear.

“Isabel? Do you still have that riding crop from the stables you worked at as an instructor in California?”

Isabel frowned down at Liz and then looked up at the slightly queasy expression on her brother’s face, Kyle snickering next to him.

“Yes. I believe it’s in my closet. I’ll give it to you when we get home.” She answered wickedly, watching Michael sink further down in his chair, “Just make sure to clean it when you’re done.”

“Oh I will,” Liz returned, and her gaze settled on Kyle, ‘You’re gonna need it later as well.”

Kyle’s coughing was drowned out by the crowd’s applause as the concert played on. Michael was laughing and stood with the audience and people at their table, while Kyle tried to compose himself.

Michael pressed himself against the back of Liz, leaning down, to whisper in her ear, “You aren’t serious about the riding crop right?”

Liz looked back giving him a cryptic grin, “Ride ‘em, Cowgirl.”

“I’m fucked.” Michael sighed.

“Enjoy the show, Silver.” She said turning back to the show, enjoying hearing Michael let out a decidedly weak, “Woohoo.”

~*~
THE END