All finished stories from the Unconventional Couples board, the Crossover board, and the Alien Abyss boards will eventually be moved here. See those forums for descriptions.
1 post • Page 1 of 1
banner by Doublestuf
Title: “You Belong in Pictures”
Author: femmenerd aka Lucia
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Roswell except for my DVDs.
Summary: Maria took off to New York to be a singer but found her passion in photography instead. When she meets Zan, an up and coming musician, sparks and flashbulbs go off.
Author’s note: Inspired by the Tony Duran photo shoot of Jason Behr, but fully and completely Roswellian. This fic is a bit of a departure for me as I have never paired Zan with anyone but Liz and I have hardly written Maria at all. Muchas Gracias to Doublestuf, my musey kindred spirit who told me to write her a story about those pics, chatted with me while I wrote it and then made the lovely story banner.
Maria was just getting out of the shower when she heard his engine cut out in the driveway. She smirked, thinking about how the Ducati that Zan rode perfectly epitomized the kind of man, er alien, that he was. Cocky, sexy, sleek and a bit fast, or so she surmised from the looks that he had given her during the last couple of photo shoots that she had done with him.
She scrambled around getting dressed as quickly as she could, cursing as her foot got caught in the first pair of panties she pulled out of the dresser (red). He was early which she definitely hadn’t expected, rocker boys not being generally well known for punctuality in her experience as a fashion, and sometimes publicity, photographer. She pulled on her favorite pair of faded jeans and a simple black tank top. She didn’t need to get all dolled up for his ass. All the same, she grabbed a tube of cherry flavored lipgloss from the vanity on her way out the door and applied a shiny layer to her lips, puckering up and kissing the air.
Zan confounded her. He was so unlike the “normal” aliens that she had grown up with in Roswell, mostly because he was so damn relaxed most of the time. With Max, Michael and Isabel it had always been about stress and secrecy all of the time. When she had moved to New York, Maria had thought that she had gotten away from it - the alien abyss and all that. Not that she could ever get completely get away from it, considering the fact that her best friend had married one of them. And she and Michael had finally figured out how to be functional friends after all these years…at a distance. That made it easier. She was willing to admit it – she had loved the guy but Michael refused to leave Roswell and Maria DeLuca had bigger things in store for her.
When she had first come to New York with fifty bucks to her name and a duffel bag full of clothes, she had naturally assumed that her destiny would be singing. But after a couple years of waiting tables and doing open mics, she had taken a photography class on a whim and had found another even more absorbing passion. And this one paid the rent. Maria had found that she loved looking at the world, at people, from behind the lens of a camera. She liked putting frames around life, finding new ways to see. She still loved to sing though. She was the queen of karaoke; even her drag queen pals gave her props for her performances. But she had learned that she loved being on the opposite end of the gaze at well, with the power to interpret and create images. It was exciting and she knew that she was good at it.
And recently other people had seemed to notice at well. She had gotten a couple of jobs doing photo shoots for Rolling Stone and Spin and that’s how she had first met Zan. All she had known was that she was supposed to take some pics for the album art of some up and coming band so when she showed up at the bar where they were performing she had been completely fucking taken aback when she saw a Max look-a-like up on stage. Sure, she had known that there was a second set of podsters but still.
And it was weird - even though technically Zan was an exact replica of Liz’s hubby, he couldn’t BE more different. Where Max was shy and reserved, Zan was wild and exhibitionist. The way that Zan moved on stage…Maria almost completely forgot about the resemblance. Theoretically she had always known that Max was beautiful but she had never thought about him like that. Max just didn’t have that “dangerous” flavor that she craved, and of course there was the best friend loyalty clause as well. Zan was, well, Zan was HOT in an entirely different way.
Yep. Maria had a weakness for bad boys. Not like that was any secret. Michael Guerin had been about as bad as she was going to get in dusty old Roswell, New Mexico.
Ack. He was knocking on her front door. They had agreed to do this shoot at her studio/apartment since it was just going to be him without all the other members of his band. The pictures were going to be for some arty magazine that was doing a special on hot, young New York talent or something. She had been flattered that he had asked her, even though she knew that the pictures she had taken for his band’s album had come out well. And she couldn’t help that fluttery feeling that had erupted in the pit of her stomach when she had heard his voice on the phone, rich and lilting.
She padded over to the door in her bare feet and opened the door with a typical DeLuca-style dramatic flourish. Her hair was down and still wet and she hoped in the back of her mind that she didn’t look too dowdy. But all thoughts of any coherent nature blipped from her mind when she saw that playful smirk emerge as he pulled his helmet off of his head. He held it against his side and cocked his head at her.
“So, are you going to let me in, DeLuca or am I just gonna stand here all day?”
“Geez, you alien types are pushy,” she retorted with a smile.
It was so weird. Being able to make open Czechoslavakian comments here, in New York. Until a couple of months ago, that had soooo not been part of her new world. But one night after one of his shows when she had been a little drunk and he had been, well Zan-esque, she had gotten babbly and ended up telling him about where she grew up and showed him a couple of the pictures from home that she kept in her wallet. She had only meant to show him the ones of her and Liz but she had slipped and he had caught a glimpse of a snapshot with Michael in it. And so the cat was out of the bag. Zan had looked up at her intently and she had stared right back for about a minute solid before his mouth quirked up and he said,
“So you were going steady with Rath’s dupe, huh?”
At which point Maria had blushed beet red (how undignified could you get?) and mumbled, “Yeah.”
That was about a month before, and she had seen him once or twice since then. Once at a concert and another time last week when he had randomly showed up at the opening for a show that she put up of her independent work. She had been so busy and crazed – it was her party after all - but she had felt him watching her the whole time. And she had to admit it; it had felt good. And then he had called the next day and asked her to do this shoot.
And now, of course, he was standing right in front of her, six feet of dark haired alien hotness and it was definitely causing her pulse to race. He was dressed entirely in black – black pants, black shirt, black boots. His hair was all over the place, not long or short, but um, virile (was that the word?). Sheesh, am I in heat? Maria thought to herself. Did I really just describe a guy’s hair as virile?
Zan strutted through the door and unloaded his cargo pack (also black) on the coach at the far corner of her studio space. It was cluttered with lights and weird stuff that she gathered at garage sales and what not. Her current obsession was with old department store mannequins. She found them and dressed them up. Some people got creeped out when they walked into her place but she liked it. And she was just dying to take some photos with them.
“So, um, shall we get started then?” Maria said, putting on her best serious “working” face.
“Sure, I’m game,” Zan replied, shooting her a blinding smile. “Can I smoke in here?”
“Mmmmm, OK,” she said. Maria had never really smoked that much, a couple of cigs here and there socially but she was thinking that she could probably get some good candid-ish shots of Zan this way and besides these pictures were supposed to be about him.
Zan was a mystery and she was determined to expose some kind of truth about him, somehow.
He lit up a cigarette and reclined on the couch like a graceful cat. Maria immediately grabbed her camera and started clicking away, darting around him as he sat nonchalantly posing like the big ham that he was. Everything about Zan begged you to look at him. He was the perfect subject for a photo study really. Lots of people were beautiful but few people were as photogenic as he was. It wasn’t just that he had piercing amber eyes with lashes that seemed extravagant on a man, or that his body was like a sculpture, or that his face was stunningly handsome yet still not all plasticky in a J. Crew model kind of way. The camera just loved him. Almost as much as the girls at his shows do, Maria thought to herself wryly. She sighed a little bit, knowing that she wasn’t so very unlike them. Not that she really cared all that much. Maria was not one to be ashamed of her desires. But she also wasn’t going to fawn all over him like a groupie either.
She warmed up by taking a bunch of pics of his face. He played along, grabbing a hat of hers off of the floor and putting it on. It was one of those wool hats with a brim, black to match the rest of his colorful attire. He pulled it to one side jauntily and moved to light another cigarette. He was mercurial, with dramatic facial expressions that were a portraitist’s dream. One minute his face registered as stoic, another dreamy, then cocky the next. It was as if he could feel exactly when she was about to click and would just shoot magnetism right into the lens.
Things were flowing. Maria was exhilarated by it. So often taking photographs of subjects who were aware that they were being watched was awkward or like pulling teeth but these felt like a real collaboration.
“So DeLuca, what’s the deal with the mannequins?” Zan asked her as he got up and began to circle the room, taking off his shirt slowly as he walked.
Maria took a sharp intake of breath but remained outwardly calm. “I dunno, I think they’re fun in a kind of creepy way. You know, fake people and all that.”
“Uh huh.” Zan nodded as he swung around, dropping his shirt to the floor and wrapping himself around one of the mannequins in a seductive pose. He looked at Maria and raised his eyebrow. Click.
Maria’s eyes opened wide. “Oooh, Zan, I’ve got an idea - get your ass on the floor and sit on that one lying over there.” She gesticulated wildly with the hand that wasn’t holding on to her camera.
“I love it when you’re bossy,” Zan teased and complied, straddling a mannequin and leaning back. The muscles in his abdomen flexed as he leant back. It was perfect. Click. Click.
It was hard to discern the difference between her creative excitement and the feelings that Zan’s half naked presence was causing to flare up inside of Maria. He moved easily, picking up her plastic lady friends and posing them to suit his whims. He laid down on his front and stared deeply into dull, painted eyes. Click.
“Damn girl, you’ve got a lot of friggin’ cameras,” Zan remarked as he dropped back down onto the couch and surveyed the room which was full of cameras and lenses in various states of disrepair.
“Well, they’re my toys, my tools, and I love them,” she said, putting the camera she had been using down as she grabbed more film to reload.
“I feel the same way about my motorcycles.”
“My ex used to ride a bike,” she said idly.
“Michael?” he queried.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, a little awkwardly, having forgot about the fact that he knew that she’d fucked an alien before.
As if reading her mind, he smirked and shot her a look that fairly radiated raw sexuality. She met his gaze head on, feeling emboldened by the energy and excitement flowing through her body – creativity, heat, what have you – it felt great.
“I’ve got it! You should use your toys to take pictures of me with my toy.” He hopped up off of the couch and grabbed her by the arm. “Let’s go!”
And without further ado, he grabbed his helmet and rushed to the door, still shirtless with Maria in tow.
They moved the bike to the abandoned lot next to her building. If she had thought that Zan was on fire before, now he was like an inferno, posing with the motorcycle like it was a lover. It was amazing to behold how willing he was to expose himself, to open himself up to her gaze via the camera. She had never met a man before who was this comfortable in his own skin. It was like a dance between them, give and take. He’d pick a theme and start going one place with it and then she’d take it one step further, readjusting him for her camera’s “eye.” And each time she touched him to adjust his position, Maria felt a jolt of electricity flow right through her.
By the time they went back into the apartment, they were so in synch that the progression of shots seemed to happen of its own accord. But still he was taunting her with his eyes every step of the way. Unable to simply be looked at, he gazed back into the lens with a searing intensity.
She had an old mattress on the floor of the studio and when his eyes rested on it, she felt herself heating up from the inside. She lowered her eyes and began absentmindedly picking up a pile of gaffer’s tape from the clutter on the floor.
“You gonna tie me down with that, DeLuca?” Zan said with a characteristic smirk.
Two could play at this game, Maria thought. “Is that what you want, Zanny boy?” she sassed right back.
“I would think that I’m not the first man to say that to you.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replied unfazed, at least on the outside. “Now get down there boy.”
Another knowing smirk and he complied.
As she arranged the tape around him on the mattress, even with his head down she could imagine the look on his face. Her fingers grazed his and he gripped them suddenly, staring up at her with a look that collapsed the power distinctions in this game.
His hand down the back of his pants, the glory of his tautly muscled back gleaming before her eyes. Click. Click.
Somehow he managed to look cocky and in control even as he put himself in a seemingly submissive posture. This man was magic, he was sex on wheels and he knew it.
When she finished the last shot on the roll, she carefully put the camera down and sat on the couch looking at him more boldly than she ever had before. “That’s a wrap, alien boy. Done for now.”
“Are you sure?” His voice was husky and deep, yet still had that strange lilting quality. “Come closer. I know you want to.”
“You think you know what I want?” she said, not moving a muscle.
“Yep, because I want it too,” he said as he broke free of the black tape strapping him to the mattress.
“Yeah, but how much do you want it?”
“This much.” No sooner had the words exited his lips but he had pushed himself up like a gymnast and hurtled towards her, catching her in his arms when he landed.
His skin was hot as his arms wrapped around her and his lips were strong, urgent like she’d know they would be. He kissed her with the force of a desire that would take no prisoners and refused to be ignored.
He moved his hands slowly, maddeningly up her sides and lingered by her breasts until she was breathing so hard she feared she would hyperventilate. By the time he took to stroking her arms with his fingertips, Maria felt she might possibly go insane.
That’s when the switch turned inside of her and she attacked him the way he was waiting for her to do. Her hands and lips caressed his skin the way her eyes had been all afternoon. When he moaned it was like an animal sound yet musical, lyrical somehow.
Maria found herself fascinated with his reactions, so open and so raw in a way that she had never witnessed before. When they switched turns and he began to cover her body with hot kisses, she tilted her head back and spread her legs as she sat on the couch, allowing him to fit his body in between. She combed her fingers through her own blonde curls, wild and untamed from a lack of blowdrying. Any body insecurities that she may have ever harbored melted away beneath his touch. Here was a man who loved women, loved bodies and wasn’t afraid of them or the wildness hidden within. When his fingers grazed her nipples, rubbing them into hard peaks, she felt only the sensation and pleasure and forgot any thoughts about their relative size. A light pinch and she was crying out and writhing beneath him, grinding her crotch into his.
She could feel his cock, hard and needy and found herself anticipating its size, its taste, the feel of it inside her. As if compelled by her daydreams, Zan pulled her hand down with his own and placed it over his erection where it bulged through his pants. He grinned at her and leaned down to kiss her again. As their mouths clashed together, Maria made quick work of his belt and fly, pulling him out to meet her gaze. She looked down at his cock in her hands and then back up to his face, glorying in the impassioned look on his gorgeous face. He wasn’t holding anything back; he was letting her see exactly how much he enjoyed this and how much he wanted her.
“You are so sexy, Maria,” he breathed.
Surprised, she realized that this was probably the first time Zan had ever referred to her by her first name.
Hearing him speak to her like that, so intimately and yet with a bizarre kind of innocence so different from his usual teasing banter, caused her to shed any lingering inhibitions. She couldn’t wiggle out of her jeans fast enough so luckily he helped, lifting her up like she weighed nothing and yanking them down her legs. He smiled when he caught sight of the red of her panties and paused to look as he stroked the outside layer of silk, already saturated with her wetness. Once he was satisfied with the volume of her moans, Zan slowly dragged the panties off, locking his eyes on the flesh below. Who’s looking at who now, she wondered idly.
There eyes met and she watched fascinated as he slowly put his index finger in his mouth to lubricate it and then proceeded to trace lazy circles around her clit. When he had succeeded in getting her wetter than she ever had been before, Maria cried out in frustration.
“Damn it! I can’t take it anymore. We need a condom.”
“Already done,” he said as he reached into his pants pocket.
Maria quirked a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “So, did you just come here to fuck me or what?”
Zan laughed. “Of course I did. You knew that. But I also came to get my picture taken. ‘Cause you’re good and I knew you’d make me look hot.”
“Punk ass,” was her reply. All the same, she took the foil wrapper to her mouth and tore it with her teeth.
“Besides, what is it my boy Rath always says? Oh yeah. ‘Alien sex baby, accept no imitations.’” Zan chortled, looking very pleased with himself.
“Good grief. He must be just as insufferable as Michael.”
“Um, yeah, let’s not talk about them. YOU are here with ME now.”
“I have an idea for you. Why don’t you shut up and fuck me,” Maria retorted as she rolled the condom over his length.
“Whatever you say, princess,” Zan said as he guided his cock inside her. His thrusts were slow and deep and Maria relaxed into them. But soon that pace was not enough for her so she abruptly pushed at his chest with her hands and he fell back onto the mattress that they had left out on the floor. Seeing his skin against the gaffer’s tape that was still strewn across the bare mattress caused her mind to race back to the pictures she had just taken of him willingly restrained and it turned her on even more. She pushed down with her palms on his bare chest to brace herself and she used his cock like a living dildo, finding her pleasure on her own terms.
Her lips formed into a circular “Oh” when his hand connected with her backside as he lightly spanked her ass. Well, this was a new twist, she thought to herself. Maria had always thought that this kind of thing was silly in theory but the reality was kind of fun and more exciting than she had bargained for.
A few more resounding slaps and she was on to the next phase. Zan grinned widely as she pinned his arms back above his head and placed them beneath the strip of black tape still stretched taut over the mattress. In reality it wasn’t enough to keep him there – she knew that even this symbolic bondage was something he was fully in control of, but it made her hot how this powerful man was willing to make himself vulnerable to her in some small way.
It didn’t take long then for Maria to rock herself to orgasm with Zan’s dick firmly ensconced in her pussy. She cried out loudly and fell upon his chest, her golden curls splayed out over both of them. Zan took the opportunity to kiss her mouth thoroughly, biting her lower lip playfully before he released her and removed himself from the loose binding of the tape.
She whimpered slightly with loss as he pulled out of her, careful not to lose the condom. But then she sighed with pleasure as he entered her once again, from behind this time. He took her fast and hard and just before he came, she had another shattering orgasm.
Zan rolled over and lit two cigarettes, handing one to her.
“I don’t smoke,” Maria said, her voice still shaky from having gotten off twice in such rapid succession. She sighed. “But I guess I’m going to make an exception right now. Damn!” She accepted the cigarette from his hand and took a drag.
“Damn is right, woman. I’ve been around the block a bit…”
“I’ll bet,” Maria said dryly with a knowing sparkle in her eye.
“Yeah, well. You’re the first woman I’ve been with who I’d say really fucked ME, not just the other way around.”
“Huh, well that’s just too bad for you now isn’t it?” Maria remarked, trying to avoid displaying the obvious pride she felt.
“Not anymore it isn’t,” Zan said pointedly, and pulled her close to him with one arm and brought his lips to hers. So this is what Liz meant about seeing stars was Maria’s last conscious thought before she succumbed completely to his kiss.
Maria’s face was bathed in red as she watched the images appear like reverse ghosts in the developer. Good god, this man was made to be photographed. She poked the paper with tongs as if to ward off the dangerous feelings they were eliciting within her. His eyes were as captivating as they were in real life; even in black and white she could see the fire in his gaze and imagine their amber depths. His body called out to her from the flat pieces of paper, floating haphazardly in a chemical bath. She closed her eyes and felt his touch on her skin. She felt herself getting dizzy with desire all over again. Standing there in her second bathroom/dark room, she was all alone yet she could still feel his presence palpably through the images frozen in time. And the memories flooded through her, heating her up to the boiling point. She blew out a breath of air and allowed herself to be taken back…
And when the muffled sound of the phone ringing came through the door, she knew exactly who was on the other line.
Last edited by femmenerd on Mon May 30, 2005 10:59 pm, edited 5 times in total.
My Author's Page
"I'm sorry baby, I'm a bad, rude man." -Spike
"I'm sorry baby, I'm a bad, rude man." -Spike