Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I said nothing, Mistress. Lyrics are Depeche Mode and so
is the story title.
Summary: Little house cleaning, little smut, you know the
drill...
Michael frowned when he heard a light tap at his apartment door. For all it was
his place, he hadn't had a moment's peace with all the well-wishing and
do-gooding of the Evans and DeLucas. Not that he minded, really; it made a warm
spot inside him that he liked to pretend was not there. He rolled off of the
couch where he had dropped into a light doze, scratched his bare chest and ran
his fingers through his unruly hair. Throwing on a t-shirt that didn't even
come close to matching his boxers, he opened the door cautiously, then rolled
his eyes and groaned at the sight of Liz and Maria, disgustingly chipper at
this hour of the day. "People do sleep, you know," he grumbled, and
they laughed as they barreled past him, arms full of cleaning supplies and
unidentifiable parcels.
"You're not people, remember, space
boy?" Maria taunted him as she and Liz dumped their cache of goodies onto
the counter in the tiny kitchen. Michael leaned against the doorway and made a
face at her back.
"I'm not a nutbar like you, either,"
he smarted back, ducking as she threw a bundle of cloth at his head. He bent to
pick it up and a curtain rod caught him squarely above the ear. "Ow!
Bitch!" he rubbed his head and scowled at the giggling girls who were
trying to smother their mirth behind their hands. Liz had the decency to look
contrite, while Maria just looked mischievous.
"Here, hang up your new shower
curtain," Maria handed him a box of rings, and he hesitated before
accepting them.
"I don't recall agreeing to join this misbegotten
adventure you two have embarked upon-" he stopped when he realized they
were not listening to him. They were arguing over who was going to clean the
kitchen and who got to tackle the bathroom.
"OK, Liz, we'll flip for it. Heads,
disgusting male kitchen; tails, disgusting male alien bathroom," Maria
flipped the coin and frowned. "Rats," was all she said as she picked
up a pack of sponges and some folded towels. She brushed past Michael on her
way to the bath, and he unfolded his lanky frame from the doorway and followed
her.
"'Rats'?" He laughed at her choice of
words and she smacked his arm. "Hey, easy, dork," he attempted to
defend himself but with only a box of curtain rings was not faring too well
against her armload of supplies, which happened to make handy projectiles.
"Okay, okay, uncle," he said as she bounced a sponge off the side of
his head, and she laughed at him as she turned on the hot water tap in the
sink.
Michael unfolded the shower curtain and smiled
as a dark blue background with big yellow stars and moons was revealed.
"You picked this out, didn't you?" he regarded Maria with warmth in
his dark eyes, and she blushed.
Like a cat dragged in from the rain
Who goes straight back out and do it all over again
I'll be back for more
Something that is out of our hands
Something we will never understand
It's a hidden law
The apple falls
Destiny calls
I follow you
"You hate it, don't you? We can exchange it..." she trailed off as he
shook his head. Grinning at her, he turned around and started to hang the
curtain. Maria stared at his back for a moment, amazed that she'd seen a grin
from sullen, surly Michael, and bemusedly began stowing the towels in the
cabinet over the toilet.
"Got a hammer?" she queried, and he
turned his head, giving her his famous "you're out of your mind" look
that he seemed to have developed just for using on her. "Not for your
thick skull, dummy, so I can start screws to hang your towel rack," she
frowned at him. Clipping the last curtain ring into place, he stepped back to
admire his handiwork, then shooting her The Look again, left the bathroom to
hunt up tools.
Liz was scrubbing the backsplash over the stove
when Michael entered the kitchen, moving so quietly that he startled her. She
jumped, eyes wide as she regarded him, and he quirked a brow at her as he
reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.
"Thanks," her voice was breathy with nervousness because she'd never
really been alone with Michael in such close quarters. He leaned closer to her,
his dark eyes studying her solemnly as he reached around her and slid open a
drawer right behind her. She could feel his breath against her face, that's how
close he was, and he pulled some things out of the drawer before backing up.
"Towel bar," he explained dryly,
trying to smother a smirk, and she grinned, picturing Maria bodily wrestling
his bathroom into shape. Michael couldn't stifle an answering smile, and they
shared a laugh that broke the tension.
"I hear laughing, and laughing isn't
working," Maria's voice floated into the kitchen. Liz mimed cracking a
whip and Michael headed back into the bathroom.
"Towel bar patrol reporting for duty,
sir," he cracked as he reappeared in the doorway, and Maria scowled at
him. "Are you sure it's safe to give you this?" he held the hammer
up, out of her reach, and she poked him none too gently in the ribs.
"Give,"
she growled, "and move your alien carcass out of my way." Michael
knew when to fold and he handed her the supplies, backing carefully out and
returning to his nice comfy couch.
***
He awoke feeling fuzzy headed and got up, wandering into the kitchen. Liz was
no longer in there, but the kitchen sparkled with cleanliness and smelled like
lemons, and they had put up a wallpaper border with fruits on it that really
brightened it up. "Wow," he said aloud, impressed.
"Oh, you're awake," came from his
bedroom, and he headed down the short hallway, pausing to inspect Maria's
handiwork in the bathroom.
"Um," he wondered if he had stepped into
the wrong apartment. His dim, grungy bathroom had been replaced with a clean,
bright one with royal blue and goldenrod towels, washcloths and accessories,
matching wallpaper border, new towel bars and cup holders, and a nice clean
mirror. Maria walked out of the bedroom, an expectant look on her face, and he
regarded her with amazement.
"You did all this?" He hadn't meant it
to sound the way it did, but she only arched a brow at him before replying.
"No, we contracted with the shoemaker's
elves to come in and clean while we had tea and crumpets. Of course we did all
this, you goofball. Now get, I'm not through in here." Maria turned him
back around and nudged him towards the living room with a gentle shove.
Obediently, he went, a smile that he did not let her see playing about his
lips. He flicked on the TV and flipped for a bit, but quickly grew bored and
turned it back off. He could hear Maria humming softly, occasionally singing as
she worked, and suddenly he wanted to watch her face as she sang. He hesitated,
debating joining her in the bedroom. Although he refused to admit it, he
sometimes found her an enjoyable companion. She was a light that beat back the
darkness inside of him quite effectively, and though he tried to avoid it, she
effortlessly mesmerized him.
"OK, Liz, why did you leave me alone with
her when I'm putty in her little new-age aromatherapy-loving hands," he
muttered, and Maria's singing trailed off as she poked her head around the
bedroom door.
"Did you say something?" she asked,
her hazel-green eyes fixed on his dark ones, a streak of dirt on her ivory
cheek and cobwebs in her hair making her adorable, making him want to be close
to her all the more.
Like a pawn on the eternal board
Who's never quite sure what he's moved towards
I walk blindly on
And heaven is in front of me
Your heaven beckons me enticingly
When I arrive it's gone
The river flows
The wise man knows
I follow you
"No," he answered, regarding her with amusement in his eyes.
"Well, nothing important," he amended as he rose from the couch and
ambled into the bedroom, surveying her handiwork. There were candles and a few
collectibles on the furniture. Maria had gathered up some things she hoped he'd
like in an attempt to make the apartment feel homey. He examined a pair of
sterling silver cat figurines on the dresser, and a Lucite double frame with a
picture of him and Max on one side, and Isabel, Maria and Liz on the other.
Turning to the bureau, he noticed a hand-crocheted doily with a collection of
polished stones scattered around the base of a brass candlestick centered on
it.
"No aliens?" he teased Maria, and she
immediately looked guilty. "Where?" he demanded, and she slid open a
drawer to reveal little green cloth alien figures. "What-" he began,
but she thrust one under his nose and he inhaled, smelling vanilla. "Oh.
Sachets. Well, at least you did not pick any foo-foo scents." He handed
the little figure back to her and felt a jolt when their fingers touched. She
blushed and looked down, hastily tucking the alien back into the drawer and
sliding it shut.
Michael watched her as she turned away from him
on the pretense of straightening some things in the closet, but he saw the
slight quiver in her hands and knew she felt the same attraction he did. It
always crackled in the air between them. "Maria," he began
hesitantly, and his mouth grew dry when she faced him, eyes questioning.
"I don't, I mean, you guys didn't have to do all this for me," he
struggled with how to say thank you, and she smiled.
"We did if we wanted to come visit and not
be completely grossed out," she teased gently, cocking her head and gazing
fondly up at him. "Just wait til we paint." His eyes grew wide and he
started to speak, but she silenced him with a stern look that dared him to argue.
"Would you shut up and let people do something for you for once?" she
asked, rhetorically.
Knowing he was playing with fire, Michael
reached out and gently ran his thumb across her soft cheek, removing the smudge
from her flawless skin. "You had some dirt..." he trailed off as he
ran his fingers through her silky locks, pulling the cobwebs free. "...and
spider webs," he stopped talking when his eyes met hers, and they shared a
long, heated look.
Maria was the first to move away.
"Um," she said, "almost finished in here." She pulled a
fabric bundle out of a bag and shook it out in preparation to hanging. Michael
tagged it from her hands, trying to look at it, and she swatted him.
"Gimme that! You aren't supposed to be looking til I'm through!"
"Wrestle you for it," he smiled
devilishly at her, holding it out of her reach, and she narrowed her eyes,
assessing the situation.
"Nope, you're taller than me, not a fair
fight," she decided, and as his face fell, she added, "Plus you're a
pro wrestler, remember?" Michael smiled at her and tossed the tapestry
aside. He advanced on her, wrapping his arms around her, backing her up against
the dresser. "Michael," she laughed, "what are you doing?"
Her laughter died as he held her at arms length, surveying her intently.
I'm yearning I'm burning
I feel love's wheels turning
Like a moth on love's bright light
I will get burned each and every night
I'm dying to
The sun will shine
The bottom line
I follow you
He looked at her, all golden hair and ivory skin with a nice pink blush
spreading slowly over her cheeks and chest, and his heart felt like it might
burst under the pressure of all he was feeling. Lifting her, he perched her on
the dresser and pressed closely against her, his arousal burning against her
lower belly through the thin material of his boxers. "So you're my number
one fan, right?" his face was mere centimeters from hers and she could
feel his warm breath against her lips. Their gazes locked, deep brown and
blue-green, both full of naked emotion.
"I always have been, Michael," she
replied softly, and the sound of his name on her lips made him tingle all over.
Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned in and kissed her softly, a delicate
brush of his lips against hers. Fire ignited in his lower belly and suddenly he
could not be close enough to her.
"I know, and I don't deserve you," he
murmured against her lips, and jumped back when he felt a sharp smack on his
back end. Maria glared at him with genuine anger, and he said,
"What??"
"I don't ever, EVER want to hear you say
that again, Michael Guerin! That is SO selfish!" Tears were shimmering in
her eyes, threatening to fall, and the ferocity of her emotions made her voice
tremble. Agitated, she jumped down from the dresser and pushed past him,
snatching up the tapestry and clutching it almost as a barrier between them.
"How is that selfish?" he tried his
best to keep his voice level, but he was frustrated both sexually and
emotionally, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to be back behind
his stone wall before this fireball that was Maria had invaded his heart and
his mind, and made him feel.
"What in God's name makes YOU think you
have the right to make those kinds of judgments for other people? That YOU have
the right to dictate how much people can care about you? To love you?" Her
voice trembled over the word "love" but she continued on. "You
want to just walk around going 'oh terrible unlovable me' when people around
you are trying to be there for you, and when you keep thinking what you think
about yourself you might as well spit in their faces and tell them to go to
hell! It's like you are hearing them say 'we care' and going 'so? doesn't even
chip my STONE WALL'!" Pacing agitatedly, she tossed the tapestry aside and
gestured wildly in her frustration, something so familiarly Maria that he
almost smiled. She turned on him, her expression demanding that he justify
himself somehow.
"Maria, calm down, please." His
expression was faintly pleading, and at her scowl he tried to explain further.
"I can't think straight when you're yelling at me."
She quieted, her face showing that she conceded
that he had a point, and she said, "Do you understand what I am trying to
say? By clinging to the way you've always felt about yourself, in the face of
all of us here trying to care for your prickly ass, you deny us. You write us
off, it's like nothing we say or do has touched you at all." The tears
that had threatened her eyes finally spilled onto her fair cheeks, and he felt
his heart twist a little at that sight.
Picking up the tapestry from the bed where it
had landed, Michael absently smoothed the fabric through his fingers as his
mind raced. What to say, he wondered, not wanting to set volatile Maria off
again, not wanting to make her cry. You're always making her cry, he told
himself. "You're right," he said, and she just looked at him.
"You're right and I'm sorry." She wiped at her tears and a smile
curved the corner of his mouth as he offered her the tapestry. A choked laugh
escaped her and she swatted him lightly.
"Tell me where it goes and I'll hang
it," he offered, and she pointed at the hangers already mounted on the
wall. He stood on tiptoe to hang it and smoothed it against the wall before
stepping back to stand beside Maria and look at it. "Oh," he said
softly, stunned. Van Gogh's "Starry Night" confronted him, and he
looked down at Maria, who was studiously avoiding his gaze.
"I thought you might like it," she
said softly, and he quickly assured her that he did.
"It's not what I would have expected from
you, though," he teased gently, and she snorted. Marching to the light
switch, she flicked out the light, leaving only the glow of a couple of scented
candles she had burning in wall sconces...and the soft radiance of the
phosphorescence-treated stars on the hanging fabric. "I should have
known," he chuckled, moving to recapture her with his embrace. She looks
gorgeous in candlelight, he thought to himself, rose and gold, and remembering
what she had just said to him in her heartfelt tirade, cleared his throat and
awkwardly said, "The way your skin looks in this light...I'd like to paint
you."
Maria thought her heart was going to burst with
happiness. Simple words, true, but from Michael they were priceless to her.
"Michael," she breathed, turning her face up to his to be kissed, and
were all the demons of his past tugging at him right then, he still could not
have stopped. Electricity flared between them, incandescent, as their lips
touched.
I'm yearning I'm burning
I feel love's wheels turning
Like a moth on love's bright light
I will get burned each and every night
I'm dying to(o)
The sun will shine
The bottom line
I follow you
"I can't stop," his voice was a husky rasp that sent thrills coursing
along her spine. "Maria..." His hands molded her petite frame against
his larger one, fingers seeking skin. They parted long enough for him to
impatiently strip her shirt off over her head, followed by his own, and heat
from the contact of bare skin practically sizzled.
He cupped her breasts in his hands and traced a
line with his tongue from her cleavage up to her throat, then sought her mouth
in a deep kiss. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in
the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He lifted her in his strong arms,
carrying her to his bed. They tumbled to the bed in disarray, kissing and
touching, and Michael rolled Maria over atop him, smoothing his hands down her
sides, urging her hips more tightly against him, wanting to be inside her.
"I need you," he whispered softly against her lips, and felt her
answering smile.
"Thank you," she whispered back.
Michael smiled at her and asked, "What
for?" His smile faded and his eyes closed as she ran her hands up his
legs, under his boxers, to the junction of his thighs in a gentle caress.
"Mm, that feels incredible," his voice was husky with desire. Rolling
her over onto her back, he kissed her softly on the lips, and began to slowly
trail kisses and little nips down her body. She tangled her fingers in his hair
and relaxed with a sigh of contentment, enjoying the sweet fire coursing
through her body with every touch of Michael's hands and mouth. A soft protest
issued from her throat when he briefly pulled away, but he simply eased the
rest of her garments off of her, then reversed position and continued his
loving attention over her legs and down to her feet.
Maria smiled when Michael's warm hand closed
over her foot and she gasped in surprise at the sensation of his tongue tracing
a delicate line over her ankle and arch. He chuckled when she twitched, and
pulled her firmly against him. "Ticklish?" he queried, drawing his
fingertip over the sole of her foot, and she shrieked and tried to pull away.
Laughing, he refused to release her and they wrestled briefly, ending up with
Michael wrapping his arms firmly around her knees, trapping her on her back and
blowing raspberries on her clenched thighs.
"Michael, stop it!" Maria shrieked,
helpless with laughter at seeing him relax enough to be silly with her.
"That's it, baby, beg for more," he
teased, and she grabbed his back as she tried to wiggle free. Her struggles
unbalanced him and he came down with his knees on either side of her head.
"Um," his motion stilled as he realized the intimacy of their
position. All at once he was keenly aware of her bare skin again his chest, her
hands tracing delicate patterns on his back, and the warmth of her breath as
she turned her head and eyed his obvious arousal. He took a deep breath to
clear his head and it didn't help because his senses were overwhelmed with
roses and Maria. Powerless to stop himself, he lowered his head and placed soft
kisses in a line, working his way slowly up her thighs. She felt his warm
breath caress her mound just before he dipped his tongue between her legs, and
a soft moan left her throat as she melted into liquid fire. He eased her thighs
apart, exposing her beautiful femininity to his gaze and touch, and he explored
with his lips and tongue, learning just what motion where drew the soft sounds
of delight from her that he loved so much.
Maria struggled to keep some semblance of
rational thought, but what Michael was doing felt so good that she was having
trouble. She tugged on the waist of his boxers, and they performed an
interesting series of acrobatics trying to get his boxers off without his mouth
moving away from her. She could feel the warmth radiating from his arousal, so
close to her cheek, and she turned her head to look at him. She trailed her
fingers delicately over his length and grasped him gently, and felt his body
quiver in response. Delighted with this sudden power, she decided to
reciprocate his explorations and she touched her tongue lightly to his tip. He
groaned softly, his hips moving reflexively with her hand stroking him, and she
ran her hands lightly over his chest and flat belly, marveling at his beauty,
before grasping him firmly and slowly easing him into her mouth.
Michael's head was spinning. Maria's mouth felt
so damned good, and this was something he had thought about, but wasn't exactly
something you could ask of someone you had been trying your hardest to not feel
anything for. Her fingers wandered over his back and the curve of his rear,
sliding smoothly over his lean hip to tangle softly in the nest of hair between
his legs, and her other hand gently worked his shaft in rhythm with her sweet,
sweet mouth. Her pace grew faster, soft moans escaping her as his attentions
brought her closer and closer to the edge, and when she fell, he fell with her.
The sun will shine
The bottom line
I follow you
***
"Oh! The door wasn't locked, I'm so sorry-" Liz backed out of the
room, cheeks crimson. Michael's laugh woke Maria, and she blinked sleepily at
him.
He explained, "I think we just shocked Liz
into grey hair," and a slow smile spread across Maria's face.
"Michael Guerin, those are brand new sheets!" he mimicked Maria at
her most obnoxious, and they both laughed. Sobering, he gazed intently at her,
stroking her face, and started to speak.
Maria silenced him with a gentle finger on his
lips, and said, "I know."