Palm Pilot

Author: Mnemosyne memoryvixen@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: God, what I wouldn't GIVE to own Michael... *sigh* Too bad I don't. ;)
Summary: Portion of the "Roswell Nights" series! A sexed up version of the Pilot episode, in which Michael and Maria practice her "death" scene...and things get a little out of hand.
Notes: This story, as well as its sequel "Candy Cluster," were written for the now debunked Roswell Nights series, which consisted of "sexing up" every episode of Roswell that had already aired (for the first two seasons at least). Sadly (and mainly because of my writer's block), the series never got off the ground. For a long time, both "Palm Pilot" and "Candy Cluster" were lost and forgotten. It is only recently that I've made the effort to find the first and finish the second, and now I post them here for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them! Thankx to Barbara, who helped me immensely by hooking me up with this copy of "Palm Pilot." I'd feared this story was gone forever, and I'm in her debt. Likewise, my huge thanks to Savy, who offered to scan her printed copy to send to me. You're both the best! Now, on with the show.
Dedication: To the crazy girls at RoswellBDSM, without whom this idea could never have taken shape. You chicks rock! To Jen, whose series "Everything's Better With Candy" helped to inspire this saga, and without whom I personally would never have been inspired to such heights of smuttiness. She rocks, period.

"Look, you're squirming."

"Of COURSE I'm squirming. I've got some spiked freak of an alien trying to fondle my breast."

"I am NOT trying to fondle your anything."

"Yeah. Sure. Can we just get this over with so I can get off the ground?"

Michael Guerin glared down at the supine form of Maria Deluca where she lay in the old abandoned parking lot behind the Roswell Roller Diner, which hadn't seen the better side of an OPEN sign since at least '63. The fairgrounds were only a mile away, but he was pretty certain he was the only person--well, alien--within a hundred miles who even knew this place existed. Which was why he'd felt it was a safe enough spot to practice resurrecting the Deluca chick while Parker went to bait Kyle.

He just hadn't counted on the Deluca chick not wanting to be resurrected.

"Look," she said, and he rolled his eyes as he recognized her wheedling tone. She'd been using it all night. "Isn't there ... some other way we can do this? I mean, does it have to be ME who gets run over by the car? Isn't it going to look a little odd, getting hit by my own Jetta? Shouldn't it, like, be Isabel, or Max, or someone else? Liz? Why me? Huh? What makes me so special? Huh? Why--"

"Deluca!" he snapped, and she quieted down, chastised. "You're babbling again. God, do you ever shut up?"

Maria raised her chin defiantly and pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Look, pally," she said, and the fearful tremble in her voice could easily have been overlooked by a less astute listener, "I'm doing you a pretty damn huge favor here. The least you could be is grateful."

"The least you could be is HELPFUL. Now shut up, lie still, and let me do this."

She frowned at him, but flopped back to the hard-packed dirt of the old parking lot, crossing her arms over her stomach and tapping the toes of her green boots together. Her face looked comical as she pouted, decked out in glitter and green lipstick. But Michael wasn't laughing.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Look, could you assume the position, please?"

Maria glared up at him. "Fine," she grumbled, uncrossing her arms. "Assuming crash dummy position now." She stretched one arm out to the side and bent the other at the elbow, tilting her head to the side, so that her nose was even with her palm. "Better?"

"Much." He knelt down beside her. "Now, this is when I touch you."

"Yeah, I get that." Her voice was shaking and her eyes were closed.

Dammit. She was afraid of him. This wasn't going to work if she was going to insist on being afraid of him. She'd probably leap up in the middle of the actual event and start screaming, "IT'S MICHAEL! IT'S MICHAEL, SHERIFF! HE'S AN ALIEN!" Which wouldn't really help their situation any.

"Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" Michael said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already."

She snorted, but kept her eyes closed. "Gee, that's comforting. Thanks for the stay of execution and all. Remind me to get you a card."

He rolled his eyes. "Look, whatever. Just shut up." He started to reach for her. As if she could sense his nearing presence, Maria stiffened and clenched her fists.

"Relax, for God's sake," he growled. Her chest was heaving with her frightened breathing, and it was ... distracting, to say the least. He'd never really liked the color green--it was too damn stereotypical--but for some reason, it was bearable tonight. He could take it, as it molded to her slim body. He could. If she'd just quit gasping and making her breasts heave like some wench in a dime-store romance.

"Relax, he says," Maria muttered, to herself more than to him. "Calm down, he tells me. Fine. Let's see HIM get in this position, with Mr. Menacing looming over him like fucking Nosferatu."

"I'm not menacing," he growled darkly.

"No, not at all," she snorted.

Michael decided to give up trying to reason with her. It was a waste of time, obviously. She was completely UNreasonable. Better to just get it over with and get back to the fairgrounds so they'd be in place in time. They had--he glanced quickly at his watch--a little over an hour before they had to be where they were supposed to be. Plenty of time.

"Okay, so you fall over, someone makes a ruckus, and then I touch you," he said, bringing his hand in low. "Like this."

He pressed his palm to the bare skin just over her heart.

And froze.

Whoa.

*******

Whoa. This was ... an altogether new experience. For some reason, Maria had imagined that his skin would feel cold. Clammy. Like snakeskin, or a toad. Like something green and slimy that lives in the swamps and only comes out at night. So it came as a shock to her system when his skin wasn't only warm, but HOT. It seemed to sear against her chest. She could almost picture him branding her, and silver paint be damned.

"How's this?" he asked, and Maria forced her eyes to open. He was gazing down at her.

And he hadn't moved his hand yet.

"Actually ... I think maybe a little lower would be good," she said, and immediately wanted to slap herself for saying it. WHAT? Lower! What the hell was she SAYING?

Michael nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're right. This is too high." He slid his hand a little further down her chest, and she felt her breathing stop for a second as he touched the top of her breast. "This is better. Right?"

Maria could feel the pulse in his palm, ticking against her skin. She was surprised at how fast it was going--alien circulatory systems had to work doubletime, apparently.

Her breathing was shaky, and she prayed he'd chalk it up to fear. "Perhaps ... a little lower."

That did it. Michael had to be controlling her voice. That must be it. He had to be using some kind of freaky alien mind meld with her, making her say all these stupid things, like "lower."

Michael peered down at her. He was still in his black t-shirt and jeans, choosing to wait till the last possible minute to get into his copper-toned costume. The cheap cotton clung to his arms and torso, and Maria suddenly discovered her mouth was dry. She tried swallowing a few times to get back some moisture, but it didn't work.

"Lower?" Michael asked softly.

//No.//

"Yeah."

Dammit.

He shrugged--bastard--and nodded. "Okay. Tell me when to stop." Slowly, he began moving his hand lower ...

And lower ...

And lower ...

He had very large hands. It didn't take him long until he was slipping his fingers under the scooped neckline of her mottled green spandex catsuit. She swallowed, but let him move deeper.

"How's this?" he asked, his voice surprisingly husky all of a sudden, as he slid his fingers under her breast, cupping it.

Maria released a trembling sigh, and arched her back a little as he held her breast. "Th-that's good," she gasped, trying to slow her own heartbeat, which had sped up enough to match his, if not surpass it. "I think that'll work." She bit her lip and flexed her fingers against the ground beneath her.

"Uh-huh," he replied, almost absently. "I think it will, too."

Then he began to knead her.

It was gentle, really. Surprisingly so, considering the otherwise brash nature of his character. Just a simple massaging motion as he squeezed her ample breast in his strong hand, his long fingers pressing into the giving flesh and making it hum.

"Oh ... Oh, God, Michael, what ..." She arched again, gasping.

"I need to see what I'm going to be working with," he told her quietly. "All right?"

She nodded quickly. Right now, he could ask her if black was white and she would have said yes, as long as he didn't stop touching her.

It wasn't until the chilly desert air hit her exposed nipple, making it stiffen, that she realized what he meant, and her eyes flew open. He'd gently pulled her breast from the constricting cloth of her catsuit, baring it to the night air. She felt the seam of her costume pressing up against the base of her breast, thrusting it upwards insistently.

"What ... What are you doing?" she panted, pushing herself into a semi-sitting position.

Michael shrugged, and continued kneading her gently. "I told you," he said. "Looking at the playing field."

She glared at him. "You bastard. Let me go." She tried to pull away from him, but he brought up his other hand to touch her cheek, and she stilled.

"For what it's worth, I like the looks of it," he murmured, and grazed his thumb over her nipple. She sucked in a breath.

"R-really?" she asked, trying not to let her obvious vulnerability shine through in her voice. "How so?"

"Well," he said, sliding his hand down her throat to her other breast and cupping it through the cloth of her costume, "I feel like I could hit a home run here. Unless," he added, "the umpire calls it foul."

His eyes were entrancing. Enchanting. Exciting. Enthralling. She was nodding before she even knew what she was agreeing to.

Michael slid closer to her, his eyes dark and hungry in the broken starlight. "Do I have the okay for a run of the bases then?"

She nodded again, too encapsulated by his gaze to speak.

His thumb grazed her nipple again, and she jumped, yelping. "Awesome," he said, and dipped his head down.

She wondered for a second where he was going. Then his mouth closed around her exposed nipple and she cried out, her fingers furrowing into his spiky hair as her eyes fluttered shut. And when he began to suckle her softly, she just about died from the sensation.

*******

Holy. Shit.

Okay, what the hell was going on? Michael had brought the Deluca chick out here to practice for their little show later that night; that was ALL. So why the FUCK did he have her succulent little nipple in his mouth right now, and why the FUCK'S FUCK was he enjoying toying with it so damn much?

Her fingers tunneled into his hair, and he groaned as they grazed his scalp. The vibration must have felt good against her breast, because she gasped and pulled him closer to her chest.

He should move away. He should. He would.

Eventually.

Right now, she tasted too good to let her go.

"Oh, God ... Oh, God, Michael ... Oh my GOD!"

Maria's fingers were stroking his hair, playing with his ear. It would have been a great picture, if someone had come along with a camera. Him, sprawled across Maria's lap, suckling on her like a newborn baby, while she moaned and begged above him, her hands holding him firmly in place.... Of course, if someone had come along with a camera, they'd both probably die of embarrassment. So that wasn't an option.

Michael felt one of her hands leave his hair. She slid it into the top of her costume and pulled her other breast free of the cloth. He felt the warm, soft flesh brush his cheek, and it made him growl softly.

"More," she gasped, leaning down to press her cheek to the top of his head.

He wasn't about to say no.

Without a word, he took his mouth from her nipple and moved it to the other breast. She moaned and cried out--presumably from the loss of his hot mouth and the subsequent arrival of the cold night air on her hard nipple--but she was soon cooing again as he began sucking on the other tight nubbin. His hand slipped up her tummy to take hold of her bare breast, and he rasped his palm across the stiff pink peak there, making her shriek.

"MICHAEL!" she cried, lacing her fingers behind his head and pulling him closer still. "Oh SHIT!"

Okay. So maybe getting sidetracked wasn't such a bad thing after all.

*********

Maria felt like a porn star. Not that she'd had much experience with porn, of course. Certainly not. Well, not really. Not much. Just some scrambled movies on the upper side of the cable dial. And some illicit photos she'd ... stumbled across on the Internet.

But none of that mattered. What mattered were her breasts. They felt so exposed and vulnerable. Pushed up and apart by the neck of her tight costume. Burning up in the chilly desert air. Tingling from the touch of Michael's lips and hands.

His hands.

His hands ALONE were worthy of porn star material. Was it true what they said about boys with big hands? About how the size of their hands was directly proportional to the size of their ... you know?

Or maybe aliens were just naturally endowed with big you-knows.

What the hell was she thinking?

"Michael," she moaned, not meaning to sound so lusty, but incapable of fighting it. "Michael, please ..."

He moved his mouth away from her breast then, but quickly covered the damp, exposed flesh with his other hand, keeping it warm and aroused.

"What?" he asked, his mouth exploring her throat.

Maria swallowed, forcing her mind to focus. "We ... we sh ... shouldn't ... Oh, God!" She buried her face in his shoulder as he pinched one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it experimentally.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured near her ear. "But if Max gets to break the rules"--he dipped his tongue into her ear, making her gasp--"then so do I."

********

Maria groaned when he said that, and Michael felt her push her chest forward into his palms. Oh, fuck, she felt so hot. Like molten mercury, and even more fluid. She was tugging at his T-shirt now, and he sat back long enough to rip it off over his head and throw it aside. "Problem solved," he growled hungrily, and pounced on her again.

"This ... this is ... so ..." she said, but didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. He understood implicitly.

"Yeah, no shit," he muttered, and groaned as he wrapped his arms around her, allowing her nipples to push into his chest. "Oh, damn."

He found the zipper on her catsuit easy enough, and in seconds it was down and he was tugging the green material forward, off her shoulders. There was no protest from Maria--if anything, she seemed even more eager than him to get the offending material off--and soon, her entire upper body was bare.

Her lithe arms curled up around his neck as she pulled herself onto her knees in front of him, so they were nose to nose. "What the hell are we doing?" she murmured, her mouth finding his and ravaging it. He never would have thought Maria Deluca was a sexual vixen, but outward appearances were often deceiving.

He knew that from experience.

"Having sex?" he asked breathlessly against her lips, sliding down onto his back and pulling her with him, so she hovered astride him on all fours, her breasts pressing into his chest and driving him wild.

"Oh, yeah," she muttered, moving her lips away from his mouth to suck vigorously on his neck. "I almost kinda forgot."

"Sure you did," he growled, and rolled them so she was lying beneath him on the dirt again. She arched a little and moaned as her bare back made contact with the cold earth.

"Shit!" she hissed, and the word sounded sexier than he ever would have imagined, coming from her full, green-tinted lips.

His hand slipped underneath her, holding her hips aloft so her pelvis ground into his. He groaned, and so did she.

"I guess you're happy to see me," Maria gasped, her slim legs hooking around his back to hold her lower body up as he got on his knees and worked at unzipping his jeans.

"That sure ain't a banana in my pocket," he muttered, his fingers struggling with the button at the top of his fly. "Dammit!"

Suddenly, her legs disappeared. He looked up, a little stricken, only to see her moving forward and brushing his hands out of the way so she could work at his jeans.

"Slimmer fingers," she told him, grinning up into his face. "Saves time." He felt the button release and the zipper hum down, guided by her fingers. Maria reared up onto her knees in front of him, and looped one arm around his neck. The other stayed at his fly. "There," she said. "Much better, don't you think?" He felt her hand nudge the jeans down his legs to bunch around his knees.

Then her hand moved back up and cupped his straining erection through the plain blue cotton of his boxers.

He hissed, and she closed her eyes. "And I thought I was hot," she murmured, her delicate fingers rubbing him, making his hard flesh leap with each stroke.

"Shit, you are," he moaned, pulling her tighter against him, so her hot, straining nipples could press into him again. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of that.

She gasped, and her head lolled forward to rest against his shoulder. Her teasing hand darted up to the waistband of his boxers, then slipped inside to grasp him, skin on skin.

"GOD!" he bellowed, his hips bucking toward her. "Oh my GOD!"

//How the hell did she know what to do?// Michael would bet every secret he carried--and there were many--that she was a virgin. He could smell it on her, just like he could smell the cypress oil that lingered around her hair. Here he was, blundering like an elephant in a china shop, and she was working him like an expert.

She must have done a lot of reading.

********

//The boy must have memorized the damn Kama Sutra!// Judging from his moans and the way he held her so tightly, Michael seemed to be enjoying himself. Good. That meant she was doing something right. Honestly, Maria didn't have a clue what she was supposed to do next.

Maybe she should ask him. He seemed to know what was happening.
No. Then she'd have to admit that she was totally bewildered, which would mean having to admit she was weaker than him, which was SO not an option. She felt his hands slide down her back to push at the waist of her catsuit, and she willingly sat back, allowing him to move it further down her hips. He groaned and froze as she took her hand away.

"Shit," he muttered, his head falling forward, his breathing labored.

"Oh ... God, I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Honest, I didn't mean--"

" 'S okay," he cut her off quickly, shaking his head and looking up. "Later, right?"

She nodded, glad he didn't hold that particular grudge against her.

"Lie back down," he instructed, and she did, lifting her hips into the air so he could slide the remaining portion of the costume down her legs. He quickly tugged off her boots, tossing them unceremoniously to the side. She didn't even bat an eyelash, even if they HAD cost her a hundred bucks.

Well, okay, maybe she batted ONE eyelash.

Once he'd finished removing her clothes, Michael sat gazing at her almost-naked body, eyes burning. Maria felt a hot blush work its way up from her stomach, until it burned in her cheeks. She only wore a pair of lime green bikini panties now, and from the way his fingers were twitching, those weren't going to last much longer.

"Shit," he muttered. "You're like whipped cream."

Her blush grew hotter, and she moved to sit up and obscure her breasts behind her raised knees; but Michael stopped her.

"Don't," he said, holding out his hand before she could sit up completely. "Don't, all right? Just ... let me look."

Maria cocked her head. "Okay." She rested back on her palms, so that he could gaze at her for a little longer.

********

Something primal began to sing in Michael's gut. The reasons why he was so attracted to this girl were a mystery to him. She was weird. She talked too much. And she could get them all killed. But someone with a rack like that couldn't be ALL bad, could they?

"Uh, Michael?"

He kept his eyes on her breasts. "What?"

He watched her shift uncomfortably. "Are ... are you gonna get undressed too?"

Shit. He'd completely forgotten. HOW could he completely forget? "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"Okay, just making sure." Pause. "Now?"

He growled, forcing his eyes to break away from her chest to find her gaze. "Pushy much?" he grumbled, but he stood up.

She grinned sarcastically at him. "Look, pally. I barely know you. You deliberately tried to scare the hell out of me back there in the alley earlier. But now you're sitting here staring at my breasts like they're Christmas dinner. This chain of events doesn't really make much sense to me, but the fact of the matter is, it happened." She arched an eyebrow. "Now let's get a little reciprocation going."

*******

He glowered down at her. He did that a lot. "Fine," he growled. He gestured to his bare torso. "This a good enough start for you?"

Maria almost forgot to answer. He'd been pressed against her for much of this endeavor, so she hadn't gotten to really appreciate his body. She had figured he'd be well-built, but this ... This was way more than well-built. This guy had been specially crafted.

"Very," she managed to croak out, her mouth dry as sandpaper.

"Well, let's make it even better," he muttered, and bent down to unlace his boots. Something in that motion--in the way his bare back arched and gleamed in the moonlight while his muscular arms flexed as he tugged at his laces--made her stomach flutter.

He stood up and kicked off the boots, then quickly began removing his jeans, which were already hanging around his knees. Maria almost wanted to close her eyes. She had no idea what to expect when he'd finally be naked in front of her. What if she fainted or something stupid like that?

But she kept her eyes open anyway.

Michael slithered out of the tight jeans, revealing the rest of his pale blue boxers. She'd have expected black. But who was she to assume Spaceboy knew jack about color coordination?

"There," he said, throwing the jeans to the side and gazing down at her. "You happy now? We're even."

Maria felt a blush working into her cheeks again. "No we aren't." She looped an arm over her breasts, covering them. "Now we are." She almost laughed at the pained look he got when she did that. No, Spaceboy wasn't HORNY or anything.

Slowly, Michael knelt beside her. "Don't do that," he said softly, reaching out to move her arm aside again. "I like seeing you."

Maria let him guide her arm away, her eyes transfixed by his face. Something was happening here--something indescribable. Something she didn't understand, and she was pretty sure he didn't, either.

Something a little like trust.

Where on earth had THAT come from?

***********

She was better than "Playboy." That was saying a lot, considering the massive collection of skin mags he had stuffed under his bed and in his closet. She had them all beat. He'd never in his life thought he could have this. His own living, breathing, hot-fleshed, hungry-lipped girl. He was an alien, and this was real life, not the movies. Aliens in real life got captured and killed and disposed of like waste paper. They sure as hell didn't get beautiful blondes with big green eyes and perfect breasts cooing at them in the moonlight on a chilly September night.

"Getting your eyeful there, Spaceboy?"

Spaceboy? Where had she picked that up?

"Yeah, I'm enjoying myself."

"Well, that's nice." Beat. "Are we going to sit here all night, or is one of us going to make a move?"

She wanted moves made? Well, he could do that for her. Sliding closer, Michael buried his face between her breasts, kissing along the subtle valley outlined there. He heard her gasp, and felt her furrow her fingers into his hair, holding him close to her. She tasted like sugar and spice and--hell, why not? Like everything nice. He wanted to pour tabasco over her nipples and suck them clean. He wanted to cover her body in the spicy sauce and lave her with his tongue until she sparkled.

"M ... Michael."

He liked how she said his name.

Slowly, he tilted her back to the ground, keeping his face nestled against her chest, nipping and sucking at her breasts.

"Michael ... God, don't stop ..."

She was touching him gently; stroking him. He'd never been stroked before. It felt nice.

"You either," he murmured against her chest, and moaned as he gripped her waist between his all too eager hands.

********

//Air...Need air... Please, God, don't let me pass out!//

"Ooh!" Maria yelped as Michael's fingers slid into the elasticated waist of her panties. Already, she could feel her lower body quivering. This wasn't what the girls in the bathroom had described in lipstick on the tiled walls. This wasn't hurried and hot and forgettable. This was something her body was begging to be given. She couldn't have turned back if she'd tried.

"Miiiiichael," Maria moaned when she felt his lips leave her skin as he sat up to pull off her panties. She raised her legs and closed her eyes, her breathing slow and shaky. Moment of truth. As the scrap of cloth slipped over her ankles, she waited for him to laugh and leave her. Wasn't that what guys did? Touch you and leave you when you were vulnerable? Hadn't her mother's example taught her that?

She heard him release a shuddering breath. "Maria," he whispered.

She clenched her eyes tighter, her body tensing.

Strong hands gripped her knees, spreading them apart, and she felt him shuffle forward on his bare knees to rest between her legs. One hand released her knee, and seconds later she felt elegant fingers trailing through the trimmed hair between her thighs.

"Michael!" she gasped, her eyes snapping open. Immediately her gaze went to his hand, caressing her mound. "Michael!"

The alien in question had his eyes fixed to the juncture of her legs, his mouth ever so slightly open. "I've never ... I always wondered what it would really feel like," he whispered. "How hot it would be." Slowly, his eyes raised, and he met her frantic gaze.

"Am I the ... first?" he asked, and Maria had never imagined a voice could sound so vulnerable. Until she heard her own.

"Yes, Michael," she murmured back, voice surprisingly steady. "You're my first."

**********

Michael closed his eyes and stilled his fingers. Could he do this to her? He was an alien. He was a SMARTASS alien to boot. He had a home planet somewhere that was waiting for him to return--he would never stop believing that--and he had two others of his kind who needed him. Who were all he had as family. Could he abandon them by abandoning himself in this girl's body?

But then ... could he abandon her because he was afraid? He knew a little something about abandonment. Max and Izzy could take care of themselves.

"M ... Michael?"

Maria's quivering voice prompted him to open his eyes. She was watching him fearfully. Dammit. He'd scared her again.

Somehow he managed a smile for her, and saw her nervousness calm immediately. "Sorry. Taking a moment," he said, and began caressing her moist heat again.

It looked as if she wanted to respond, but her eyes closed instead as she pulled in a sharp breath and stretched out against the ground, moaning and reaching a hand down to touch the back of his. "Michael," she whimpered, pushing on his hand lightly. "Down... Deeper!"

He nodded. Yeah, he was a virgin--what alien wasn't?--but he wasn't an innocent. He knew what she wanted. Now, if only he could remember freshman health class.... Thank God for late nights spent staring at the sex ed pictures.

One finger slipped between Maria's wet lower lips, and she gasped again. She was doing that a lot tonight, but oh well. Better to gasp than to get no reaction at all. "Miiichael! Michael, yes!" she whimpered, opening her legs a little wider for him.

"Tell me when," he murmured, his voice deep and husky, and she nodded quickly.

"A ... a little over ... other way ... OOH!" Her back arched uncontrollably as he found her hard nubbin. "Yes! THERE!"

********

Shit. Okay, this was unexpected. She was a healthy girl of the nineties--soon to be the turn of the century. She'd touched herself before, and it had felt good. Good enough to keep her from jumping every guy in school whenever she'd get a primal hormonal rush once a month. But THIS ...

A trickle of fluid escaped her fluttering core, and she moaned. "Shit!" she gasped.

"You want me to touch you here?" Michael asked, his finger beginning to circle her swollen clit.

Maria almost swallowed her tongue. "Shit, YES!" she yelped, pushing her hips up towards him. "H ... harder! Faster!"

He chuckled, but not unkindly, and a couple more fingers joined the first to begin a steady, firm circular pressure on her clit. A gentle rocking motion started in Maria's hips, and she let it happen.

***********

"More ... more!" Maria mewed, her hands sliding up to start massaging her breasts. Michael was in awe. His hand was already dripping wet and getting wetter, as her hips pressed relentlessly up toward him. Was he really doing this to her? Perhaps in a past life, he'd been a real ladies? man. Maybe a man in uniform. Chicks seemed to dig guys like that.

He didn't know where to focus his eyes--on her lips, her breasts, or her rocking hips. If he watched her chest he was going to start envying her hands. He wanted to be those hands, kneading that supple flesh again, hearing her purr her pleasure.

"Mooooore!" Maria begged again, pushing up especially hard against his hand.

"How?" he asked, desperate to give her anything she wanted, to keep her skin flushed and dewed with sweat.

"I ... inside," she gasped, her green eyes opening and gazing down at him, hooded seductively. "Please."

He nodded. "Okay. Okay, baby."

Baby?

His free hand was resting on her hip, and he slid it down and forward until it slipped between her lower lips along with the first. She gasped and arched as he played around her dripping sheath. Damn, she was so open! Slowly, he slipped a finger inside her body.

"YES!" Maria shrieked, her body arching away from the ground. "YES! MICHAEL!" Her hips started working faster, moving his finger in and out of her body. He cocked his head and tried to help her.

Clumsily at first, but quickly smoothing out, he managed to get his hands into a rhythm of stroking and thrusting. Maria's mewls and shrieks of pleasure urged him on, and he worked faster, watching her luscious body writhe for him. Her slick passage was wet and loose around his finger, so he took a chance and slid a second digit inside, beside the first.

Maria cried out, her hands clawing at the ground. "MICHAEL! Holy SHIT! Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes...." She kept chanting yes, her head rolling from side to side against the ground as she did. Michael grinned. She was liking it!

And it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell he was, too. He shifted his hips and moaned as the constraining material of his boxers rubbed against his erection. Shit, he wanted to be where his fingers were now.

***********

Something was happening. Buried deep inside her lower belly, a dark fire was burning. It was familiar, but stronger than it had ever been. Lances of hot pleasure were pulsing up to invade her breasts, making her nipples strain painfully, so that she had to pinch them to ease the pressure.

"Please!" she cried, pushing down fiercely on Michael's hand. "Please, I'm close!" She reached down to clutch at his arms, as if to help him push her over the edge.

"I know. I know, shhhh," he murmured. "I've got you. I'll help you. Shhhh."

She whimpered and forced her eyes to open so she could gaze down at him over her rocking body. He was shining in the moonlight, his body sheened in sweat, much like herself. She could see his erection straining in his boxers, and felt her body leap in response, eager for completion. "Gaawwwwwwwd," she groaned, grabbing her legs to spread them wider in anticipation. The muscles in her sheath were spasming already, preparing for the climax.

"Are you ready?" Michael asked gently, and she whacked her head on a rock as she nodded vigorously.

"YES!" she shrieked, bucking harder. "YESSSS!"

"Okay," he said, his breathing noticeably quicker.

Quickly, lightly, he brushed his thumb over the top of her clit. She bucked hard, crying out. Almost!

He did it again, a little harder this time, and added a quick circular rub as he did.

"MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL!" she screamed, and curved away from the ground as her body crested in orgasm. "YES! MICHAEL!"

Thrust! Thrust! Pause, thrust! Maria almost laughed, the feeling was so intense and so immeasurable. She was shivering and giggling when her hips finally rested on the ground, still flexing a little, but for the most part still.

"Oh ... my God," she gasped, opening her eyes and looking at him.

Michael's gaze was hot and hungry. Two of his fingers were still buried in her body, and he moved them a little, as if testing her reaction. She shrieked and arched again, asking for more.

"That was ... wow," Michael said, withdrawing the fingers. Maria's body didn't want to let him go so soon and tried to hold him in, tightening around the digits as they slipped away. He smiled--God, he had a beautiful smile--but pulled away anyway, and she moaned in response.

************

It took every ounce of Michael's alien strength to keep from tearing off his boxers and plowing into Maria's hot core. He'd felt her, what she could do--his fingers still tingled from where her body had squeezed him--and his rigid shaft was begging to be let loose on her unsuspecting passage. //No!// he roared internally at his protesting body. //Shut UP!//

Maria was trying to sit up, and he quickly snapped back to reality to help her. "How do you feel?" he asked, his palms sizzling against her creamy flesh.

She didn't say anything, and he was worried for a second. What if he'd done something wrong? Then she launched herself at him, knocking him backwards as her lips collided with his.

Hitting the ground with a fleshy THUD, Michael moaned into her moist mouth. Shit, he'd never been kissed like this before. Hell, he'd never been kissed before. Her tongue was pummeling his lips and he opened them willingly, letting her explore his mouth as his own tongue did likewise to her. She tasted fruity, like a watermelon Jolly Rancher.

"Mmmm, my God, Michael," she moaned as their mouths separated and she began to attack his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his mouth, with her lips. "Thank you!"

"Thank ... you," he managed to murmur between kisses. Oh FUCK, he was going to come in his shorts if she kept wiggling on top of him like this. Her rounded behind bumped against his erection, and he moaned uncontrollably at the added stimulation.

Maria sat up immediately and gazed down at him. She smiled. "I almost forgot," she said, and even in the moonlight, he could see her blush. "Sorry again."

He shook his head, too choked up with suppressed arousal to answer.

Maria stood up, and Michael sighed with relief. With her skin away from HIS skin, he could maintain some control. Until she started to pull off his boxers. He lost it again immediately. "Maria!" he moaned as she tossed the blue cotton aside and straddled his knees.

"My turn," she said softly, and smiled up at him as she reached a delicate hand toward his straining erection. "This time, I'VE got YOU."

And she touched him.

**********

The reaction was immediate and carnal. "Fuuuuuuuuck!" Michael groaned, his hips thrusting up, his hard shaft grazing over her palm. "Yes, Maria, oh FUCK!"

Maria's eyes widened. Not at the language, but at the feel of his pulsing length in her hand. Holy SHIT, he was hot. Hot, hard, and aching. She could feel a sympathetic thrum start to build between her legs. Gently, she began to pump his shaft with her hand, hoping to alleviate some of the tension in his body, as his ministrations had done for her.

"Oh, shit, Maria. Maria, don't!" he panted, shaking his head. "I ... I can't--"

"Does it hurt?" she asked, curious, still working him.

He shook his head, paused, nodded, paused again, and gasped, "Mariiiiiiia!"

Biting her lip, Maria moaned in response. Her lower lips were dripping again, the moisture rolling in rivulets over his knees and calves. She moved up a little, so she was on his thighs, and started to use her other hand, massaging the base of his erection, her eyes glazed as she watched him writhe beneath her.

"Are you this hard because of me?" she murmured.

Frantic nod.

She moaned and her hips began to move faintly. Her imagination took over, and she began to fantasize that her hands were her body, moving up and down along his shaft. She whimpered as her clit hardened in response, and took one hand away to dip between her legs, gathering some of the copious moisture there.

"Shit, Maria!" he groaned desperately.

"Shhhhh," she shushed him, pumping her mound and coating her hand with her juices. "I'm not done yet."

Bringing her hand back, she wrapped it around his stiff erection and began to pump again, up and down, harder and faster than before. The slickness of her palm made it smooth and supple, and Michael arched beneath her.

"Dammit! Maria!" he growled. "I need ... in you!"

The look on his face was familiar to her, if only secondarily. She'd worn it countless times before, lying in bed, desperate for completion as her fingers plied her clit. Completion she'd never felt until tonight. And even that was lacking.

"Okay," she said softly, swallowing hard. "Okay, Michael."

**********

Those were all the words he needed. With an animalistic growl, he sat up and pulled Maria forward against his chest, crushing their mouths together. He heard her moan and felt her legs wrap around his waist, pushing her wet cleft against his hot shaft. Groaning, he twined his arms tightly around her, digging his fingers into the damp, soft flesh of her torso and holding her immobile against him.

Somehow he managed to get onto his knees, her ankles still hooked behind his back. This felt way too familiar, as if he'd done it before. But he knew he hadn't--that was something he was pretty sure he'd have remembered. So why did he feel like he'd done this a thousand times before, with many women who weren't this girl?

Who cares? Didn't matter. All that mattered was her mouth on his, her hard nipples digging into his chest, her gaping passage inviting him in, and his rigid member eager to accept.

Pulling back a little, gasping, he pressed his sweaty forehead against hers. "Are you ... sure?" he asked.

Maria nodded quickly. "Hell yes," she panted.

He smiled and claimed her mouth again, enjoying the satin curl of her tongue as he slipped a hand between them to guide himself to her opening, as if by memory.

The instant he entered her, the world changed from black night to bright orange and yellow as everything seemed to catch on fire. He choked on a moan and pulled his mouth from hers so he could rest his head on her shoulder and catch his breath. A hot lump was in his throat, but he swallowed it down. Why the hell did he want to start crying? It didn't feel that good.

Well, okay. Yeah, it did.

***********

Maria let her head roll back on her neck and gasped softly as Michael pushed slowly into her. This ... this was beyond belief. How had this happened? She'd started the night scared to death of him, and now here she was, letting him claim her virginity. Was he that magnetic?

A warm tongue touched the side of her neck, and she decided that yes, he must be. Because she could only move closer to him with each inch he pressed into her body.

"Yes," she urged softly, kissing his shoulder. "Yes, Michael. Oh, God ... yes."

It was then that he began to thrust, and coherent speech seemed to disappear. In ... back ... in ... back ... A steady back-and-forth motion that bounced her uncontrollably along his hot length. She cried out and buried her face in his neck as her fingernails clawed into his back. Oh GOD, that felt amazing! Suddenly, she felt him bump something deep in her body, and they both stilled. //Hymen,// she thought, annoyed.

"Maria," he gasped against her shoulder, and she nodded.

"Do it," she responded breathlessly.

He growled something in response, and pulled back so far he almost left her body entirely. Maria just had time to open her teeth against his shoulder before he rammed back into her, breaking through. She screamed softly, and bit down hard on his shoulder, tears popping into her eyes. Not as bad as she'd heard it described, but not as inconsequential as she'd hoped. Shivering, she released his shoulder, ashamed that she'd broken the skin with her teeth.

One of his long-fingered hands was caressing her back as he cradled her like a small child. "Are you ... all right?" he asked.

Quivering, she pulled back and cradled his face between her hands, leaning their foreheads together. "Y-yes," she stammered. "I'm sorry. About ... the shoulder--"

He took his hand from her back and rested a finger across her lips, silencing her. "What shoulder?" he asked, smiling. She had to smile in response--his grin was infectious.

"Do you want to ... keep going?" Michael asked.

She nodded. "Y ... yes," she murmured, touching his lips as his hand went back to stroking her back. "I just ... I need ..." Blushing, she let a hand dart down between their bodies to begin massaging her clit again.

Moaning, she let her eyes flutter shut and rested against him once more. "I need ... this," she moaned, and it turned into a hiss as she felt her core start to thrum again. He was still a tight fit and a sore burn, but her body stretched and molded around him, drawing him deeper.

Michael echoed her hiss and began thrusting again; gentler this time, as her body readjusted to him.

***********

After a few clumsy moments, they fell into an easier rhythm. Quick thrusts, followed by a lull of slower ones, then speeding up again. "Deeper," Maria whimpered, and Michael would have laughed if it hadn't been such a serious situation. Deeper? She wanted him deeper? Hell, he wanted to be buried to the hilt, past the pubic bone, inside her. He had to take it easy, or he was going to kill them both.

Still, no reason to ignore her request.

"Oh shit yeah," he groaned as he pulled her hips down harder. Maria's response was a muted cry as she began to grind down onto him. Already her internal muscles were beginning to whisper seductively around his shaft, and it was all he could do to stop himself from eating her alive. He knew she'd be ambrosia.

Pleasure coiled through his body, and with a shuddering sigh he let himself roll backward to lie on the ground, gazing up at her as she bobbed atop him, her hand still furiously massaging her clit, chest heaving with each new breath.

"You're ... awesome," he managed to gasp, knowing it wasn't enough, but too unskilled to voice it any other way.

Maria must have understood, because she looked at him and smiled, the band of white teeth enough to dim the moon. "So are yooooooooooooh!" she said, turning it into a drawn-out moan. Her sheath spasmed lightly around him in preparation, and he swore under his breath as his hips jerked up extra hard.

Her eyes widened. "FUCK!" she shrieked, and shifted her hips a little. "FUCK, fuck, FUCK!! YES! RIGHT THERE!" If he hadn't known it was impossible, he'd have thought there were tears in her eyes. "Michael, PLEEEEEEASE!"

"Any ... anything!" he gasped, grabbing her hips and pounding into her harder, faster, watching her body shake harder with each thrust.

"I'm ... I'm gonna do it again!" she cried. "MICHAEL!"

Back arched like a sinewy angel, hand between her legs, she could have been a sexual seraphim. But she wasn't. She was human.

His human.

Her spare hand was frantically twisting one nipple, but he reached up and caught hold of it, gripping it in a white-knuckled fist. She returned the pressure, digging her nails into the back of his hand. With the other hand, he swept her fingers aside and pinched her clit.

"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" she screamed, her body convulsing above him as, for the second time that night, she orgasmed. Her inner muscles clenched around him, tighter even than they had been around his slim fingers.

"SHIIIIIT!" he roared, holding her hips still as he plowed fully into her and exploded. He imagined the hot fluid flowing farther down her passage, bumping up against her womb, maybe finding its way inside. Existing in her even when they had to separate, as was bound to happen eventually.

But not just yet.

*************

"Oh. .. shit," Maria panted, slumping forward on Michael's toned body and letting herself shake. "Oh, shit, Michael."

"Yeah, I know," he gasped, wrapping lean arms around her waist, one hand coming up to stroke her short blonde hair. "Wow doesn't ... really cover it."

She shook her head. "Uh-uh."

Several long minutes passed as they lay there, twined together. His body was still nestled within her own, and Maria bit her lip anxiously. She didn't want him to pull out.

Eventually, Michael started to push himself into a sitting position, and Maria helped him as much as she could. Her body felt heavy, like malleable gold, and she slumped against him.

"You're cold," he said softly, rubbing her back.

That was when she noticed she was shivering. "It's ... n-nothing," she managed.

"We should get dressed. Get to the festival," he murmured, but didn't make a move.
"When ... when are we due?" Maria asked, snuggling up tighter against him and greedily absorbing his heat. She wondered if maybe aliens had hotter blood than humans.

"Another half hour ... or so," he responded, and began kissing along her neck.

"Ooooh," she cooed, tilting her head to the side so he would have a clearer venue. She didn't feel so cold anymore. "Make that ... 45 minutes," she moaned, massaging his back muscles. "Lizzie's sure ... to run late."

"How do you know?" he whispered against her shoulder.

She pulled back and took his face between her hands. Gazing into his eyes, she grinned. "Just humor me," she answered.

His answering smile was spontaneous. "Do I look like I'm arguing?"

"You have been known to in the past."

"Let's call it a change of heart."

Maria laughed softly, but it was cut off as he found her lips with his own. She purred against his mouth and wiggled against him, pleased to hear his growl of renewed arousal.

However this night had come to pass--whatever cosmic force had aligned with whatever act of nature to make it possible--Maria Deluca was not going to complain. If anything, she was going to get on her hands and knees and thank whatever gods were listening for letting her be friends with Liz Parker.

And she'd throw in a special thank you for the creation of sexy boys with nice, big hands.


THE END

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