Poison (UC, Mi/Liz, MATURE) Part One 9/29/2009 ~ Complete

[Whimsicality]

Title: Poison
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, all characters and original Roswell settings belong to other very lucky people. I also do not own the title or lyrics to Poison by Alice Cooper.
Pairings/Couples/Category: Polar, UC, Post Episode Season One Ficlet
Rating: Mature
Summary: This is a semi smutty season one polar ficlet. It starts during The Morning After and goes just past Missing. I was listening to music while trying to work on the next part for When Dreams Change and was inspired to write this instead, blame the muse.






Your cruel device
Your blood, like ice
One look could kill
My pain, your thrill

She walked away from the trailer, resisting the urge to physically react to the gaze she felt burning coldly into her shoulder blades. Why did she care so much? It wasn’t because he was part of Max’s life, in fact Max hadn’t once crossed her mind when she saw Michael’s file at Topolsky’s feet, or when she was knocking on the metal door and waiting for his familiar brooding frame as she ignored the way her skin crawled when his foster father crudely tried to flirt with her.

No nothing had been on her mind other than Michael’s intense caramel eyes and those lips pressing into a firm line as he saw just who was there. Staring into those eyes as he stepped outside she remembered thinking that Max could see into her soul and felt a near hysterical giggle bubble in her throat. Max’s eyes could never see as deeply nor be felt as sharply as these.

Her words tumbled from her lips in an unorganized flow, her normal cool collection lost in the face of the fire she could feel emanating from inside of him. It wasn’t an alien thing, it was a Michael thing; flames that could burn or freeze with equal fervor. When his lips quirked at her apology she felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. Did he know how he affected her? Did those penetrating eyes see the way she fell into turmoil whenever he was near?

As she walked away she couldn’t decide which would be worse; if he didn’t know, and her torment was private, or if he did know and didn’t care.

Or worst, secretly enjoyed it.


I want to love you but I better not
Touch (don’t touch)
I want to hold you but my senses
Tell me to stop

He watched her walk away, her petite frame moving faster than he would have expected, moving away from him. That thought sent a wave of anger and guilt burning up his throat and he turned away, refusing to torment himself by watching until she disappeared. He shouldn’t be watching her at all, and he definitely shouldn’t be wondering if her hair was as soft as it looked when she nervously tucked it behind her ear. Nor should he have the urge to wrap his arms around her when he saw the fear in her gaze, fear for him.

Whatever he had expected when she showed up at his door it hadn’t been that she was there to warn him, that she was worried about him. He didn’t know what to think but he had been sure it would involve Max somehow, and had been prepared to coldly remind her of the danger of associating with them. He admired her courage in standing up to them and helping them but it was all the more reason she should stay away. Such strength shouldn’t be snuffed out and being a part of their lives, a part of his life, would snuff it out eventually, one way or another.

That was why, unlike Max, he didn’t act on his desire for the tiny brunette. In fact he usually refused to acknowledge the desire even existed, but she had caught him unprepared, his guard down, and for those brief moments the desire had flared to life, burning hotter than ever before.

Gritting his teeth he stalked out of the park and into the desert, unable to face Hank’s leering gaze and suggestive comments. Not today. Not about her.

Today he wanted to think about what he would never do, let himself feel before he buried everything in the dark empty space he buried every emotion that didn’t fit in his life. Emotions were distracting, she was distracting. But maybe, if he dwelled on that distraction for a while, he could get it out of his system and go back to focusing on what was important.

Like dealing with an overly curious guidance counselor with suspect motives. That was far more important than silken olive skin, or perfectly even teeth that worried a plump pink lip as she analyzed everything around her.

Just stop thinking Michael, you’re good at that.


I want to kiss you but I want it too
Much (too much)
I want to taste you but your lips
Are venomous poison

She clutched the journal to her chest and watched him walk away, mind whirling. What was that supposed to mean? If he had read her journal, read every word she’d written, why would he envy Max? There had been entries devoted to his brother when she first entered their private world but lately, she blushed; lately there had been an entirely new subject in her thoughts.

As embarrassed as she had felt when it became clear why he was there that night, something in her had leapt when she realized what he’d done. Maybe her inner torment, now revealed, would find some solace in shared knowledge. But nothing in his words had acknowledged that he was even aware of the fact that she had written pages about his quiet intensity, or the way his gaze made her shiver, or the way she fantasized about his sensual lips and what they would feel like, taste like.

Sudden anger welled within her and her knuckles whitened as her fingers dug into the leather binding. How dare he read her every private thought, every fear and wish and desire, and pretend none of them revolved around him? She didn’t feel violated by the fact that he knew her deepest secrets like she would have with anyone else. If she really thought about it, it was shocking how little it bothered her that he had taken and read her journal.

But it infuriated her that he would brush it off as insignificant. It couldn’t have been an attempt to spare her feelings; those twelve words proved that something in him reacted to her on a deeper level than mere acquaintances.

Damn him for knowing. Damn him for refusing to leave her in peace and for refusing any relief. Damn him for being everything she wanted and everything she couldn’t have.


You’re poison running through my
Veins
You’re poison, I don’t want to
Break these chains

The words were burned into his brain, every syllable echoing endlessly in his bloodstream, refusing to let him rest;

Every time he looks at me I tingle as every cell comes alive, aching to touch the passion I know he hides. Maria’s wrong, he’s not a vibrator, he’s a god damn forest fire just waiting to be unleashed, smoldering beneath the leaves all unseen until it rages out of control. I want to be caught in the blaze.

He had known there was more to Liz Parker than the goody two shoes everyone saw as she worked in her parents diner, got straight A’s, and fell for her dreamy, equally shiny, lab partner. But in his wildest dreams he had never imagined that she wanted him to be the one who saw beneath that perfect exterior, that she would admit, even in private, to such primal desires for someone as tarnished and not perfect as Michael Guerin.

Someone who wasn’t free to act on those desires. He couldn’t hide behind Max’s shield of innocent arrogance and pretend it was ok to feel these things, to want these things.

He ripped off the tattered blanket with a soft growl and strode out the trailer, not bothering to be silent. Hank was passed out and wouldn’t wake up even if he hitched the trailer to a truck and drove it off a cliff. He smirked, now that was a tempting thought.

Though not as tempting as a certain off limits brunette who had wrapped him around her finger without even trying. It was wrong. What he wanted, what she wanted. It was wrong. There was more at stake than simple teenaged lust, no matter how much he knew things between them would never be just simple or just lust. There were other people involved, other risks. It was dangerous.

But his feet kept walking into town, unerringly heading towards the cheesy restaurant and its pretty small town waitress who had changed everything.


Your mouth, so hot
Your web, I’m caught

Seeing him on her balcony she had wavered between indignation and tears. She wanted to scream at him for causing her relentless insomnia, for making her cold towards Max because everything in her now burned for him, for walking away with her soul and not giving anything back.

When she slid open the window and stepped onto the terrace, mouth opening to say something, anything, to let out the boiling emotions inside, she saw the same emotions in him and all of her cells shrieked as one.

The first touch was so warm she thought she’d wear the mark of his fingers on her arm the rest of her life, the brand of his skin against hers. Then she felt his lips and she knew there had never been a fire this hot before.

She molded her body against his, starving for the heat only he could provide.

Finally.

Relief.


Your skin, so wet
Black lace, on sweat

Her hair was slick against his fingers, her skin still damp from the shower and he shivered as he pulled her tighter, every sensation thrumming through him with all the power of the forest fire she had named him.

Those teeth were now nibbling his lip with gentle ferocity and her arms were under his shirt, nails scraping along his spine as her hips ground into his. He couldn’t get enough, it wasn’t enough.

He slid his hands down her back, tearing the long night shirt with his powers, and letting the scraps fall to the deck below, baring more heated flesh to his roving fingers.

They encountered something rough against the smooth satin of her skin and his eyes snapped open, the matching black lace bra and boy cut panties hitting his psyche with all the force of a punch.

If he was a forest fire than she was atomic, blazing so bright he knew there would be an impression of her imprinted on his body forever.


I hear you calling and its needles
And pins (and pins)

“Liz.” He moaned against her hair as her lips trailed down his neck to the hollow of his throat and she thrilled that she could cause that reaction in him. That she had undone his iron control.

His voice had physical weight and it prickled along her skin, heightening the bolts of desire that seared through her with every brush of his calloused fingers. The rush of freedom and pure sensuality was heady and she felt a little dizzy from the sheer intoxication.

The tingles she felt when he watched her were nothing compared to the tingles of his touch, of hearing her name, on his lips, in that shaky tone.


I want to hurt you just to hear you
Screaming my name

The rebel in him wasn’t happy that he had been the first to break the silence, the first to give voice to the desire that raged through both of them and he gripped her hips roughly, pulling her up until she had to wrap her legs around his waist and pressed her against the wall.

He knew the cement was scraping against her back and enjoyed the way she arched into him as his hard length pressed against her core through his jeans, the small stinging pain just fueling her passion.

“Michael!”

His name finally broke through her lips as his teeth latched onto her pulse point and he grinned against her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty vanilla flavor that he had been craving.


Don’t want to touch you but
You’re under my skin (deep in)
I want to kiss you but your lips
Are venomous poison

Everywhere he touched ached for more and the brush of his lips burned like acid on her skin; pleasure so high it almost crossed the threshold to pain. It was powerful. It was passionate. It was addicting.

Now that she’d had a taste, now that she’d felt him against her, nothing else would ever compare. He had wormed himself deep inside of her skin and taken up permanent residence.

It was too late to pull away, too late to take it back, too late for regrets. So she cast the last thoughts of Max and Maria and the cost of their actions out of her mind and curled her fingers into his spikes, yanking his lips back up to hers for another bruising, burning, perfect kiss.


You’re poison running through my veins
You’re poison, I don’t wanna
Break these chains
Poison, oh no

At some point he had lost his shirt and he could feel the warm night air like a cold slap against his skin. His back burned where she had marked him and his scalp stung as she gripped his air, pulling him ever closer.

The very blood in his veins simmered as her lips caressed and demanded with equal strength, the feel of her soft warm curves against his bare chest nearly driving him to the brink.

He had been the one to pick her up but her legs were locked around him with shocking strength and he knew he was just as tied to her as she was to him by his caging arms.

Somehow that thought didn’t bother him.

This was one prison he would willingly accept.


Runnin deep inside my veins,
Burnin deep inside my veins

They plundered each others mouths and tasted each others flesh. Marks were made with fingers, nails, and teeth; passion branding the moments of their surrender into their bodies so they couldn’t forget or brush it away the next morning when the harsh light of day reminded them of the bonds that could be broken by this act.

The desire was inside them now, a beast you can starve into submission only if it has never tasted its prey, never pumped its painfully addictive venom into the bloodstream where it lingers and burns with unquenchable fire.

There was no stopping it now.

This was just the beginning.


Its poison
I don’t wanna break these chains
Poison