| Just a QAF WIP... |
[Jul. 29th, 2006|07:53 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  frustrated | ] |
TITLE: Zero Degrees of Separation
AUTHOR: Gothabby
FANDOM:Queer as Folk (American version)
RATING:NC-17
PAIRINGS:Michael/Brian; Michael/Ben
FEEDBACK:It's my lifeblood. Also, feel free to suggest endings, plot bunnies,
another profession, anything at all. I'm easy.
Mikey could still smell Brian’s skin on his hands as they covered his burning face. What the hell had he just done? He still felt the nimble fingers stroking his cock, smelt the raw black leather of Brian’s coat mingled with smoke and sex, and he wanted desperately to jerk off in the back room. It felt so fucking right to move against Brian, pant out his need for him in the darkened store, hear the creak of leather against musky skin, so close, so beautiful, and still he had torn himself away and made him leave. And that snarky “I know your secret identity,” as he sauntered out, the arrogant prick. That hurt worst of all. He loved Brian so hard it hurt, and Brian knew it and didn’t care. Fuckhead. He had been willing to ruin a friendship just for another afternoon quickie. Then goodbye forever, with no thought to picking up the pieces.
Thank God, though, for gay amorality. At least he didn’t waste a second worrying about whether he had just cheated on Ben. He had reached up and grabbed the back of Brian’s neck, had pulled him in for an answering kiss, but that didn’t linger in his mind as he closed the store and walked back to Ben’s flat. The zipper on his jeans rubbed him uncomfortably as he walked, and he felt a cold sheen of sweat covering his body. He passed the park, stopping to watch the basketball players Ben normally played with. He laughed as he remembered how he had called the league the NBL, which made Ben’s nose crinkle in the most disarming look of disapproval. Brian was an idiot, if he just dropped this man at the White Party without a backward glance. Two minutes in Ben’s bed, fucking him as he lay tied up and vulnerable, would have reduced the most discriminating man to molten lava. Didn’t Brian ever stop to look at his conquests?
Mikey took the stairs two at a time at Ben’s building, grateful for the daily bitch sessions that masqueraded as work-outs. He knew what he wanted to say, how he wanted to apologize for running off in the middle of frottage to brood over his adolescent crush. Ben was equally hard to tear himself away from, and now Michael was ravenous for him. Repentant, but aroused.
At his knock, the door opened on someone who was not Ben. A very tall, very sophisticated not-Ben. Someone who reminded Michael of Eric McCormack from Will and Grace, who had the same clipped dark hair, chocolate brown eyes, and sensual lips as that actor, but with a bulkier, less rangy build. Michael’s stomach twisted in knots at the sight of this beautiful man, lounging in Ben’s apartment like a lover in silk pajama pants and no shirt, clutching a bottle of Evian possessively. For a moment, Michael thought he was at the wrong apartment. He hastily looked at the number on the door. Shit. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Ben couldn’t have been that upset with him, it had only been about an hour.
The stranger offered an outstretched hand. “You must be Michael,” he said in a velvet-smooth baritone that hinted of Southern roots. The stranger shook Michael’s pale hand. “Ben raves about you like a lunatic, but he never mentioned you were so short.” He eyed Michael up and down, then gave him a quirky smile. “Uh....he just stepped out to look for you.”
“And you are?” Michael could hardly rasp out.
“I’m Ben’s neighbor, Allan. I’m over a lot to check on my old college bud. We were roommates at Cornell.”
Michael felt a wave of irritation crinkle his forehead. “And you’re here now because?...”
Allan gave a porn-star smile, flashing perfect pearly whites. “It’s not what you think, Michael. We’re just friends. He asked me to be here in case you came back before he did. He adores you. He wanted me to tell you that.”
“Uh huh,” Michael murmured, stepping inside. He instinctively reached for the Buddha’s stomach on the sofa table. He turned to Alan. “Are you the friend who gave him this?” Michael was still slightly spooked, and more than a little jealous of anyone Ben had even shaken hands with..
Alan took a swig of water, and shook his head. “Um...no.”
At Michael’s penetrating, “be-serious” stare, Alan added, “I’m straight, Michael. If you want, you can meet my girlfriend, she’s over at my–“
“I believe you,” Michael grinned, waving the idea away. God, he was getting ridiculous.
“There you are,” he heard a familiar deep voice behind him. He spun around to catch sight of his breathless lover, standing in the doorway with relief and love in his eyes. “I went to your mother’s, then to Emmett’s, where I nearly got a facial, and to the store, not to mention all the rival comic-book places in the city. Are you alright?”
Michael smiled warmly. “Never better. Alan was keeping me warm ‘til you got back.” He winked at Alan, who looked slightly non-plussed
Ben turned to his friend and gave him the international straight-male sideways handshake. “Thanks,” he murmured, patting him on the back and leaning in for a bear hug.
Michael ignored the knot of jealousy in his stomach.
“Missed you court-side yesterday,” Ben commented.
“In-house audit,” Allan said cryptically.
As they talked, Michael lost himself in a daydream of the two men tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, long, bronze legs wrapped around each other as they fucked.
Alan was saying something to him and was moving toward the door. In delayed reaction, Michael smiled and said “Nice to meet you too.” He shivered as he shook off his vision.
When they were alone, Michael nearly lunged at Ben, pressing his body against him. “I’m sorry,” he said. It was almost a groan. His skin, his whole body, burned for this man. Capturing Ben’s mouth with his, Michael lowered them both to the floor, not stopping until Ben was prone beneath him. Ben lay flushed and smiling, his erection pressing into the cleft of Michael’s ass..
Michael’s head reeled as he imagined tying Ben’s hands behind his head, then teasing and sucking him until he begged to come. Straining against the ropes, crying “please” between ragged gasps, pleading with Michael to say yes, come hard for me, my beautiful love, I want to see you lose yourself to me.
At least that was how he imagined it had been with Brian.
Michael rolled his hips, enjoying Ben’s intake of breath. He loved when the cool professor’s facade crumbled. Ben caught Michael in a crushing embrace and reversed positions with him. He cradled his palm under Michael’s head as it hit the floor, licking at Michael’s lips before darting his tongue inside. Michael loved these little protective gestures, so small they almost slipped under the radar. But they inflamed him, made him wonder, absurdly, what kind of a father Ben would make. Made him want a life with him, with 2.5 adopted kids, a mini-van, and all the straight-world trappings Lindsay and Mel had.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Ben smirked, as though hearing Michael’s thoughts. Mikey was unsure if he meant the running away in the middle of foreplay, the dominant male act, or both.
Ben undid their zippers until their cocks touched, making Michael whimper. He leaned in to bite Michael’s throat. Just enough to mark what was his.
Suddenly, he stopped, staring fixedly at Michael. His eyes were black, rimmed with sapphire. He pulled away, swearing to himself.
Michael didn’t need to ask. He cursed himself for not taking a shower before he left the store. Brian smelled of sandalwood due to the aftershave he had worn since 10th grade. Mikey never used anything but soap, and his own musky scent was light in comparison.
He didn’t mean to keep hurting Ben, it just kept happening.
“He came to see me, at the store,” Michael began, face flushing.
Ben stared coldly. “Seeing usually doesn’t involve getting close enough to smell like the other person,” he said.
Oh, God. What was he going to say to that? “What about that hot neighbor of yours? You’re not going to tell me he’s never sucked you off.”
“Michael!”
“Well,”Michael said, swallowing hard, “tell me then.”
Ben shoved Michael roughly off of him and stood up. “Get out,” he said crisply.
Rage flashed through him as Michael answered, “fine.” He grabbed his jacket and turned to leave. |
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