Under a Desert Sky - A continuation CW: light vore, heavy bloodplay

[revolvings]

Michael: [Is it possible to die from feeling too much, from loving someone this much? It feels like his heart and lungs are going to explode right out of his chest, it's hard to breathe and he swears if Max stops touching him, he'll cease to exist. Michael has always felt too much; ruled by emotions and feelings that made him reactive and volatile. It was something he always considered a weakness. As a child it meant being angry a lot and not having control over his abilities which only made things worse for him. It meant a lot of fights and pain being kept out of things because people were afraid of how he would react. It meant a lot of heartache. It doesn't feel like a weakness now in this moment. It means his capacity for love knows no bounds. It means when he hears Max try to explain how he feels, it's like the echoes from his very own soul.

He needs Max to know there is nothing depraved or horrid about him. He is all that is good and worthy in Michael's life, in this whole fucking universe and he can take whatever he wants, it's all his.

You think that will make me run? You'll have to try a lot harder than that. I'm yours. Every single part of me. And you're mine. I want to devour you. I want to taste every inch of you and crawl inside your fucking chest cavity where a piece of me lives already, keeping your heart going. Don't ever forget that. There is nothing depraved or horrid about you, Max. Nothing you say is going to make me run because I feel everything you feel. Fuck, just the thought you tasting me like that, of you letting me do the same. Max...

He's cut off by lips and teeth on his neck and hands under his shirt, running over his skin and he can't think about anything other than more] I love when you mark me. Harder, baby. Mark me like you mean it, like the whole world needs to know who I belong to. Take what you need. [His hand is at the back of Max's head, fingers tangled in his hair as he pulls Max closer, twisting on the blanket to try to get a better angle.]

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[revolvings]

From here, Continued cause I didn't want to deal with CW stuff.
[Maybe he should care about the food, or the gorgeous sunset they were missing, but there'd be time for that later, at least time to revel in the beauty of the desert. Sunsets came around every night, and while they might not get to see them from a picnic blanket, they didn't get to have a first night being this intimate again.

It was one of those seconds, those singular episodes in life where Max knew he'd hiked up knickers and forged through another raging river and found life on the other side. Life abundance in an accord he never dreamed there would be. It felt like he was drowning in it, there was so much-- did he ever really make it out of the river or had he fallen back and been swept away in the dastardly current.

It was a wonderfully wicked feeling, knowing the deadly assault he was capable, knowing the evil passion that lay inside his body and how grotesque it was in its beauty, its desire to possess that which Max loved so very desperately. Fuck. He couldn't tear himself from the tiny spot where he'd opened up Michael, sucking so deeply at the gap in his lover's flesh.

Was it wrong to want to crawl inside and lick around someone's stomach, to hold their heart in his hands? That's what Max felt like doing with Michael as he lay there clinging to his lover. What lines had they crossed. What insanity had possessed their bodies, the poisonous passion of their love. It was so intense, so insane that Max knew he would die in that second without having more.

I'd let you do anything to me, crawl inside me my love, take every part of me and make it yours, rip me to shreds until you've feasted on every bit of my essence and then build me again. Come on me, urinate on me. I want it all. I really need you, I need every single bit of you. I'd drink from you until you were dry, gain nutrition from your blood if I could. Fuck. I wish that I'd begged to be turned back then.

You want more, I'll take it, but be careful of what you wish for...

There's strength in Max's arms, strength from years of working out under the hot sun, keeping fit for the life of a Sheriff that had to do anything that Roswell might ask of him, and so as Michael holds him there, his fingers raise and rip through the shirt that his lover wears. He takes it from Michael's body and drops his head to take another bite of Michael, this one at a better angle on his shoulder and he doesn't release at just blood, he continues, pulling at the skin, the flesh, biting through until he's taking a piece into his mouth, leaving Michael freely bleeding.

There had to have been pain, a sharp yanking and the ripping and rending as Michael worked to tear through the skin and small bit of muscle. He didn't take a ton, but enough to dimple the skin, enough to leave a scar.

A small piece of his beloved rests on his tongue. It's tangy and tough. Max rolls it around and then swallows, closing his eyes with the sacred knowledge that no one, no one ever has done this or will ever do this to the other again. Only Max has taken Michael's body, and only he will ever again. Fuck. His whole body quivers in how disturbing and yet holy that knowledge is.

Max pants, feeling a raging hardness against his stomach. It's terrible in its burden, and in the reason for it. He's feeling hateful of what he's done, but also turned on in ways he never knew. He loves this man so much he couldn't stop himself from taking more. He goes back to the wound and licks at it, sucks at the blood, there's so much blood. ]

Fuck. I need to put something here, but I want you, I want to roll around in this, and cover my cock in it, Michael. I want to fuck you with it. I can feel the heat of need from this.

[His heart pounds and strains in his rib cage, and he brings Michael's fingers up to it, not even realizing that one look at him is probably repulsive as blood drips from his lips and down his chin, ringing his face like a macabre vampire movie. ]

[cosmiccowboy]

[Maybe this kind of love is insanity. Michael had never felt this way about anyone before. Not even close. People have been telling him how to act his whole life, that he was screwed up, no good, unlovable. Max has spent his life trying to live up to the image of what people thought he should be; the perfect brother, the perfect cop, the perfect boyfriend. That is what is insanity. Their very first night together all the stars aligned and all the pieces of his empty, half-lived life fell into place and Michael has never felt more clear or right or sure about anything.

Here they are, in this place that is sacred only to them, confessing the deepest, darkest parts of themselves and Michael feels like he might die from the sheer overwhelming intensity of his love. He knows Max's feelings about his darker urges, the way he needs to possess, are complicated, but for the first time Michael doesn't feel ashamed of those same feelings that live in him. It's another thing they share just the two of them, something they both need and can give each other and no one else.

God, what Max is saying, his voice in his head is a confession, a benediction and Michael is feeling wound up, too tight in his skin. He wants to cut himself open and feel Max's hands inside of him, ripping him apart from the inside, covering them both in the blood that flows onto the desert ground at their feet. If he's insane, then so be it. Max can destroy him and bring him back again and again and again.

He wants to respond, to tell Max he doesn't want to be careful anymore. He'll give this man whatever he wants. He'll mark him in every way and bleed him and fuck him with his own blood and vice versa. How powerful it is to be so intrinsically connected to someone else, to another body and soul. Michael wants it so he can't tell where he ends and Max begins.

Then there's the pain. It's unlike anything he's felt before and he can't help but cry out, hands fumbling for purchase on Max's sides, needing to hold on to something. He grips him roughly, fingers digging into flesh, sure to leave welts. Pain. He knows pain, he's sought it out time and again to punish himself but this, this is different. This is giving himself completely to the one he loves above all else. This is searing ecstasy. Even as the pain burns through him, sharp and tearing, stealing the breath from his lungs and bringing tears to his eyes from the intensity of it, he still pulls Max impossibly closer. Max is claiming him, scarring him and taking his flesh and blood and he can feel his cock leaking through his pants, pressing incessantly against the zipper of his jeans. His whole body trembles at the stinging, intimate feeling of Max's tongue in the wound, licking and sucking at his blood, hungry for it, like it's his lifesource. They've shared a lot of intimate moments, but something about this feels holy. Maybe because they're not supposed to want this, this all consuming obsession with each other is dark and treacherous, but deep down he knows it feels sacred and holy because they will only have this with each other forever. No one else knows the depths of their possession.

Michael knows there's a lot of blood, it's warm and wet, flowing down his chest and dripping from Max's holy fucking mouth. The other alien's conflicted emotions are seeping through and when Michael pulls his fingers away from the gaping wound, they're covered in blood and he reaches for Max's face with those same bloody fingers and drags him into a kiss. The sharp, copper taste of his own blood is strong and he licks into Max's mouth, tasting himself on his tongue. The pain is throbbing, burning on his shoulder but he's so fucking hard, his dick straining in his jeans. The intense pain, seeing Max stained with his blood, knowing that's him on his tongue, it's almost too much to bear and a low, possessive sound escapes from his lips as he grabs Max's hand, pressing his fingers to the hard and rather obvious bulge in Michael's pants.]

Oh god, you feel that? You feel how fucking hard you make me? I'm fucking leaking through my pants for you. I can feel your disgust. Max, don't...I want it too. I want us both covered in my blood. I want to rub your cock in it. I want you to fuck me with it too, baby. Fuck. [He reaches down between them and fumbles the button of Max's jeans open, slipping his hand inside to wrap bloody fingers around his raging hardon.]

[revolvings]

Did the rite of this love twist the values of modern religion. A religion which Max and Michael have never truly known or understood. If there was a God, would he love them too, did his love encompass those from other planets who knew nothing of him? Was his message laid plain on their hearts as well. There was no apologetics for aliens. So, who were they to know the sacrifice of communion, the sharing of body and blood-- the example of love laid out for all was the one that they shared as a pair now in the holy of holies, their holy of holies.

What they had created on this tiny little blanket under the wide open sky was a sacred temple between their two souls, they opened up a new religion between them. What Max labeled as dark and ugly had been shared in time immemorial as scared. He'd only taken his love, a type of love that knew no labels, no boundaries, to a logical place. The need to sacrifice, to desire what was most representitive of one's self, Michael's body, his temple, was what their love required.

Still, the alien couldn't wrap his mind around it. It wasn't until Michael looked at him with those eyes; it wasn't until Max saw the reverence in grand benediction that he knew exactly what they were doing. Feeling Michael's blood on his face was freeing. Max wanted to roll around in it, cover his body in his lover's blood, and in turn let Michael do the same in his. It made him desperate. He heaved against the feeling of Michael's kiss, and fell deeper into the spell. Gripping Michael's hips, he spilled the blood in his mouth backwards, letting Michael have every bit of himself that he wanted, laving it against his tongue as they twisted them up between one another.

He shook his head in partial disbelief at exactly how hard his lover was. "I -- I can't help myself. I " Before another word could be spoken, Michael was on him, his bloody hand sliding around his cock and freeing him of his guilt, his utter hatred of what he did. Max turned and licked at the wound again, rolling his face against the blood that had dripped across Michael's chest. He ran his hands through it and reached down to release Michael from his pants as well, gripping at his cock to coat it with his blood.

"I need you to do the same. I need you to take me, taste me, revel in me. Please Michael. I can't be alone in this. Possess me." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, a little as if he would die if Michael didn't want the same, didn't do the same. Max had to have Michael's mark as well. Nothing would be equal without it. Nothing would make this night complete unless they both knew the taste of one another in the same way.

"Fuck, you are so wet." Max reached up and licked the come and blood off his fingers, taking trip after trip to wipe it from Michael's cock to taste. It was another form of communion.

[cosmiccowboy]

A lot of terrible things have been done in the name of religion. Michael never gave a fuck about religion. Max is the one who did the soul searching, who read every religious text he could find. Michael never did ask him if he found what he was looking for. As far as he is concerned, if there was a god, wouldn't there be something in all those texts about them? No, to him, this was as close to religion as he could get. Max's mouth, the way their bodies fit together, the pounding of their hearts; this is his religion and Max, Max is his god. There is no one in any world more deserving of worship than this man.

Max is covered in his blood, it's smeared all over his face, it's soaking into his shirt and on his hands and Michael thinks he has never loved him more than in this moment. He's begging for him to do the same, to open him up and taste him, to make sure he leaves his mark. "Max..." he sighs, reaching for him, pulling him in to lick into his mouth, tasting his own blood and come on Max's tongue. The desperation in his lover's tone tugs painfully at Michael's heart. He feels a little as if he would die if he doesn't get to possess Max the same, to claim him and take him so completely. I can't be alone in this. As if that is even an option.

"Max, you will never have to be alone in anything ever again. I won't let that happen. Consider it another one of my vows to you. This one will be sealed in blood." He reaches for Max's shirt, tugging it over his head. The wound on his shoulder protests at the movement but he barely notices. His heart skips a beat, as always, at the sight of Max's body, bare chested and blood stained. He wants the scars to be in the same spot, to match like twin flames burning just like the two of them.

He reaches for his lover, cradling his face in his crimson fingers to kiss him gently before dropping his head to Max's shoulder and sinks his teeth in. First there's the blood, it's sharp and the tate of it mixes with the taste of his own blood still on his tongue. He doesn't stop there. They both need more and the dark pleasure, the darkness inside of him, the thing that wants this, that craves possessing this man completely, that fuels his jealousy, his obsession, stirs just under the skin as he bites and tears through flesh and muscle. The pain would be sharp, he knows now; ripping tearing, his mouth leaving a throbbing gash in its wake.

When he's finished, sure that it will leave behind a scar much like his own, he pulls away, blood spilling from his parted lips, brown eyes on Max's face. There is a tiny piece of his lover on his tongue, a tiny, holy piece of flesh and he swallows just like Max did. He doesn't feel conflicted or horrified at what they've done. No one, no one will ever lay claim to Max like this.

There's blood everywhere, they're both a sticky mess and Michael wants more. It's like the beast inside of him won't be satisfied until he's devoured the other completely. Dropping down again he laps at the wound he's made, tongue dipping inside to taste, and then he's moving away, lower, leaving a bloody trail of kisses from his chest to his abdomen. Max is still raging hard, maybe even more so in spite of the pain or because of it, cock already slick with so much precome and Michael's own blood from earlier. He needs to taste. Max's blood still dripping from his lips he takes that perfect, weeping cock into his mouth all the way to the base until he's almost choking on it and then he pulls back to lap and suck at the come right from the tip.

"Fuck, Max. Max..." He pulls back with a groan, savoring the taste of Max on his tongue. "You're mine. Only mine forever."

[revolvings]

In some jealous benediction Max feels like there's this need to make sure the world sees Michael's mark as he looks at the blood that still drips from it. It's not the darkness of his grief from earlier, the disgust at what he did, the ingestion of what he loved-- it's the knowledge now that he could heal Michael but that he won't. He won't touch that mark, except to make it bigger, to play his fingers through it, smear himself with painted marks of blood.

Max can feel the sameness in his lover. He can look at Michael and know that the other would die the same holy death without making sure they wear their marks together. The need to taste, to know of the forbidden like this is just as strong. They make no provenance but their own, and spell no lines between them. With his shirt pulled from his body, Max turns to watch as Michael licks his way over Max's shoulder and then strikes.

It's like a hot poker through his skin, and then more as teeth gnaw and tear through muscle and skin. Max curses once, but still reaches up to hold at those curls, wanting Michael to take, to drink and chew his body, to make every bit of pain his body is riddled with his. knowing exactly what Michael is doing, has Max closing his eyes. He can feel the throb and the sharp tear of his body protesting against the wound, but there's so much more. That heart of his darkness kicks at its door, and races along Max's cock, making it throb and weep like he hadn't felt it before.

He's known desperation, and has been edged within an inch of insanity, but this was a fresh new desire. "Fuck, oh god, mine Michael. I'm yours, only yours. " He goads his beloved on, knowing that in a few weeks they'll be married and tied even tighter then, if they could ever be such a thing. Watching the blood smear Michael's face all he wants is a taste, but he's denied as Michael falls down his body and onto his cock. Max rocks back a little and sends both hands into Michael's hair, tinting it with red as he grips tightly. "Jesus baby. I want you too. If you're gonna do that..." He tries to think, tries to breathe, but takes a few second to merely enjoy the feeling, to pull the hair and use it as a guiding force for what he desires. He never tires of seeing Michael like this, owning his cock, especially now as it's wrapped in their offering, covered in blood, just as their bodies are.

[cosmiccowboy]

That same jealousy exists in Michael as well. That need for the world to see the mark he left on Max's body and know Max belonged to him and him alone. The mark was a warning to others as much as it was a promise, a vow to his lover.

Those blood-stained fingers gripped tight in his hair, pull a groan from deep in his chest. He's gasping by the time he pulls off Max's cock. He laps at the blood still dripping from the mark on his shoulder before reaching for his mouth, desperate to kiss him, to share this holy communion with the man he loves more than life itself.

He licks into Max's mouth, blood and come mixing with saliva and Michael's body trembles from the sheer intensity of what they just shared, of everything he feels. Desperation comes in many forms but when it comes to Max it's always an all-consuming thing that takes him over completely, mind, body, and soul. Getting married was the next logical step, a way to be tied together completely and another sign to the world that they are bound together but even then Michael thinks he will still want more. Always more.

"Thank you," his voice is a breathless gasp against Max's lips as he cradles his face with bloody hands.

[revolvings]

Watching Michael bow in humble adoration over the blood covered masterpiece that they'd created together, not only had Max gasping in awe, but rumbling with unadulterated pleasure from the way his lover knew how to instantly have him trembling from the talented strokes of his tongue and warm pulls of his mouth. The connection between them had truly reached its zenith, and all the cowboy could do was shiver and pray that this would never end.

Even as he wanted, he also wanted to taste his beloved. He needed to sup from the same mouth that took of his blood and flesh. Now it carried his seed as well. When Michael came to him, Max fed. Max pulled at Michael's mouth dipping his fingers back into the wound to smear the evidence of their deprivation all across their features again, painting across cheeks and forehead like they were a Native American ready for battle. Except this was no war, it was a settlement, a coalescence, a true melding of two souls into one.

Tongues fell and licked into one another, claiming their rights. Max devoured the taste of himself, his blood, his come, and mixed it with the lingering flavor of Michael. "No, don't thank me. This is for us. Now, you..." Max pulled away from their kiss, in fits and starts. It was so hard to depart the lips he loved. It was the one thing that they came together knowing how to do. They could kiss from the very start and would always know that things were spoken between them with their tongues as well as words. One more form of communication.

Pulling black and purple bruises with his mouth, Max made a trail of his love down Michael's body. It was his and there would be not a doubt, ever. Tonight was something that only the stars would ever witness, but it would always be there in between them, artfully spoken on the canvas of their bodies. Finally, Max nestled himself into Michael's cock and with a smear of blood, he soaked it and took the full thing into his mouth, diving deep and sucking hard. There was no time needed for Max to know exactly what he wanted, what he needed.

The boutique of flavors was instant, and heady. The musk of Michael's arousal was stronger than normal, and wrapped in the tang of flavors they'd both enjoyed tonight it set off a reaction in Max. His cock jerked forward and he moaned loudly. He reached down and slipped a finger back and pushed open Michael's jeans further, trying to grip his balls in his hands so he could massage them as he deep throated his lover with every single ounce of talent he'd ever learned.

[cosmiccowboy]

If he tried to retrace the steps to figure out how they got here, he's not sure he'd know how. This was them though. They never followed someone else's set rules or expectations, even when they tried. Why should their love be any different?

Michael had spent countless nights, years out here looking at the stars, searching the skies for a sign of where he belonged, a sign he was loved and wanted somewhere, a sign of home. So it's only fitting that the only witness to this sacred act between them tonight is those same stars. For the first time in his life, he doesn't have his eyes cast upwards, looking for answers in the cosmos, instead he's looking down at the man that is his home. Michael belongs wherever Max is and he would never search or want for anything again. He would never wonder if he was loved or wanted. They showed each other that every day in so many ways, they wore the proof of their love and possession in these scars on their skin. How could either of them ever doubt this?

He watches as Max takes him into his mouth with a smear of crimson. It's so forceful, the sight of his lover covered in his blood, swallowing his cock, devouring him, is something primal that he can't help but thrust his hips, rocking deep into the tight heat of his throat, a strangled moan falling from his lips. It's divine fucking ecstasy.

They know Max can work miracles with his hands but god, can he work them with his mouth too. He's gone, so completely wrecked all he can do is wrap his fingers in Max's hand, gripping hard and holding him there as he bucks his hips until he's practically choking. He digs the fingers of his other hand into the bleeding wound he made in his lover's flesh, coating his fingers in fresh blood so he can bring them to his lips to taste.

His orgasm hits him suddenly and he cries out at the sheer and abrupt force of his release, fingers tightening in those soft strands as he spills down Max's throat, holding him there until every drop is gone before releasing. Words fail him so he pulls Max back up into a searing kiss with trembling hands.

[revolvings]

Feeling the way Michael once more fills him in a different way is a miracle all on its own. He can hear the thoughts, and feel his partner's emotions now. The way they are connected is completely beyond anything a normal human would ever think of. More now that ever, Max is exceptionally grateful that somehow he and Michael managed to find one another. If this wasn't meant to be, then there were never two people meant to be on any planet in any galaxy.

The taste of their mingled bloods across Michael's cock is like the finest wine, sipped at some fancy New England or french winery. Max has only heard of those places, but he knows that nothing could taste sweeter, or more like milk and honey than this. It melts over his palate as he dunks himself down, swallowing Michael and lapping his way back up. Max curls his tongue and then flattens it. He plays every tune that he's learned, and fine tunes Michael's cock like a violin as he plays around it, letting the one he loves more than life itself set the pace, bloodied fingers gripped tightly in his hair.

The only surprise is when he dives down and finds his mouth full of warm strands of his beloved's come. Max should have been listening to Michael's breath, but he was far too wrapped up in the debauchery of it all, the flavors, the feeling of blood dripping down his face, his body as they dripped across themselves and one another, wounds continually pressed upon and tore at to keep them bleeding. Pulling back a little, Max sputters and a little come drips from his mouth in surprise-- but he chases it, going after every bit that he can.

"Fuck baby, oh god. Yes. Mmm, that's what I wanted. Oh yes." He climbs up Michael's body, licking up streams of crimson life, and then takes his beloved's mouth and crosses their tongues, sharing all the leftover come on his tongue, the strings of it he didn't swallow back as he does so. Max is filthy in blood and come, and reaches down to the little bits he missed and takes them on his fingers to smear over his body and into the blood. He's wearing all of michael, dressed in his sex, his blood. He'd wear everything and not be ashamed.

"We're not even close to being done for the night..." He whispers, and nips at the corner of Michael's ear, sucking at the lip of it pulling until he creates a bruise even there.

[cosmiccowboy]

Pupils blown wide, he watches Max with a hunger that can't be extinguished. He doesn't want to take his hands off of him. Max Evans is the most perfect thing he's ever laid eyes on. He's breathtaking covered in blood and come; covered in Michael. God, he wants to taste every inch of Max's body, lick him clean and cover him all over again.

Lately it's like he can't get close enough no matter how many times or how close they are. Six months ago even this might have scared him, sent him running or had him acting stupid and reckless to try to send Max running (not that it ever worked before) but not now. Now, he wanted it all, throwing himself in head first and holding on for dear life.

"I don't think we'll ever be done." He murmurs, turning his head to catch Max's mouth with his own, sucking at his tongue, nipping at his lips. "Max," he sighs, hands running down the other male's chest, leaving streaks and spreading blood and come, all the evidence of what they did together. "Fuck, there is something seriously wrong with me. I didn't know it was possible to love someone this much."

It was dark. The sun had gone down without him even realizing. Dark, sticky blood was drying on both of them in the cool night air but Michael hardly noticed the chill. He was on fire, his blood, his skin, his heart all burning with desire and love for the man he holds in his arms. Out here in the desert it was like they were the only two people in the world.

"You've given me so many perfect nights, I can never repay you." Nights, days, every moment spent together was worth every single bad thing he ever went through to get to here.

[revolvings]

When they'd started this night, there was no telling where it would go and Max knew that neither of them had expected this. Max knew that he didn't expect a world where it was okay with anyone to swallow their flesh and then cover them in their blood and your own. It was a testament to who he and Michael had become to one another. It was only the beginning of the pledges that they'd be making soon. If this was the start, Max had no idea what the actual night that they'd be spending together after their vows would be like.

Absolute faith. That's what Michael was to him. He was Max's faith, the one thing he believed in more than anything else, and sitting out on this chilled blanket covered in his life force, blood, cum, saliva and energy, Max knew that nothing would ever pull this bond apart. This was what their relationship was, and would always be. He agreed, and ran his fingers over Michael's body with fingers fanned out, burning their torches over Michael's flame. Touching him with the reverence for his own religion.

"No, we never will be. I will love you into eternity, and this is our start. We only thought we began as eternals before, but I've tasted your flesh, your body. I know your soul. I've consumed you, and I will do so again, as you will me. I can never stop being a part of you, and I will always plead for you to be the same part of me. No, you're not fucking wrong. You're everything fucking right, Michael. Remember, this is what love is for us."

Because Michael had been so eager to taste it all, he hadn't finished Max off and his prick strained against the night air. It didn't matter the windchill on the desert outside, nor the drying blood. All that mattered was the heated body next to him. "Every thing is perfect when we are together, every taste, every touch..." He slipped his finger through all the body matter and with Michael laid back next to him, he spreads his thighs wide open. "I need you, I need you now, Michael. Please. I can't wait."

[cosmiccowboy]

Everything really was perfect when they were together. When they were apart everything felt wrong. It had always been that way with them their whole lives, it's only even more so now. Everything is more intense between them. It's like he had been living his life just out of focus, treading water and slipping under the surface until they came together as one. Now everything was in focus, bright and sharper and intense. Some days it was hard to even think of anything else but the man at his side and the moment they'll be together again.

Michael can feel how desperately his lover needs him; it's pulsing through their bond, vibrating through his veins. He reaches for Max's straining erection, wrapping his fingers around the base to stroke him slowly, so slowly. "I'm yours." It's murmured against Max's lips as he shifts towards him; it's sighed breathlessly against his blood stained jaw, his neck, his shoulder. "I'm yours. Whatever you want, you can have."

He doesn't know what the future holds, the next hour, year, five years, ten, twenty, but what he does know is that he will never look at a sunset, or the desert night sky without seeing Max, without feeling him taking and possessing every single part of him.

[revolvings]

It had been wrong. There were always missing parts to Max's life when Michael hadn't been the center of it. He couldn't have found his own way to his powers without letting go of Liz the way he had, and he knew he would never take her back. She hadn't been the one who made his heart soar. That belonged to the man he'd fantasized about since the moment he realized he was old enough to have a fantasy and maybe even before then.

Glancing over Michael, it was crazy how covered in all these substances he'd never looked so beautiful under the light of the glowing moon. It was like they'd painted themselves and prepared themselves for this rite of passage that took them one step further tonight, tightening the bond in one more way than they ever had before and neither of them had even gotten completely naked yet. Taking off his own jeans, Max lets the chill of the night air run across all the drying substances on his body.

They were at all different stages of thickness and dampness. He moved to kiss down Michael's body again, and smiled, licking at some of the blood smeared over his hip. He could easily taste the differences in each of their bloods now. Max didn't know if that was an alien thing, a thing that was part of them being so close, or something else, but he knew that it was Michael's blood. "You taste so good to me. I will always know the taste of you, your cum, your blood, all of you. No matter where we are."

Max pulls off Michael's pants and pulls out a couple blankets and flips on the heaters to set around them. They don't need to be covered, but being in a little nest of heated blankets might not be bad with how quickly all the things on them were drying-- much to Max's chagrin. He wished that it had all stayed fluid for a while longer.

Instead, he grabs the lubrication. Still, using that, he manages to draw it through a bit of whatever was left on his own thigh and cock, sucking at the dip of Michael's thigh when he starts to push a finger into his lover to open him up. Like always, his body responds eagerly, clamping down on that little digit and squeezing tightly, pulling and pushing at the intrusion into the body, unsure what to do with it until Michael relaxes, and begins to open up. A second finger comes close behind. Max would wait, but his body aches and he's feeling so hungry for his partner tonight. All that they've done, he wants to fill Michael's body, to be one with him. He needs to join and know that they fit together perfectly, in that way that he could be with no other soul.

[cosmiccowboy]

"God baby," he sighs, licking the taste of both them off of Max's lips. "I would know the taste of you anywhere. I wish I could live off the taste of your body alone." The taste of Max, his body, his sweat, his cum, and now his blood were as familiar to Michael has the air he breathed. Could it be a freaky alien soulmate thing? Sure. There is still so much they don't know about themselves or where they come from. But Michael knew that he was so beyond obsessed with this man that it might not have anything to do with being aliens and was probably just a freaky them thing. It was better that way because that meant it was another thing just the two of them shared; another sacred thing binding them together.

Michael laughs softly as Max is pulling off his pants. They just shared in one of the most intimate moments of their entire lives and they hadn't even managed to get their pants off first. It was so ridiculously them he couldn't help but laugh. Their hunger, their desire for each other could be so intense, sometimes (a lot of the time) it was like if they didn't have each other right then and there they would die.

That laugh quickly breaks off into a moan as Max presses a finger inside of him. He relishes the initial burn and he squeezes, muscles tightening to pull that digit deeper. He's so worked up from everything they just did together it doesn't take long for his body to start to relax and his legs fall open as he feels the burn of a second finger joining the first. He groans, rocking back on those fingers hungrily. It's good. It's always good but tonight he feels insatiable; like nothing will be enough until Max is filling him and fucking him hard into the cool desert earth beneath them.

"Oh fuck Max...Max please, please...I can't wait." It's not quite enough preparation but he doesn't care. He wants the pain, he's desperate for it; that pain that burns white hot into pleasure. He needs Max inside of him while the evidence of everything they did together tonight is still drying on his body.

[revolvings]

Tonight Max feels the same. If he could sup on Michael's body forever he would. There would be nothing else he would ever want to live off of. The taste of his lover, every flavor of him is one of the most beautiful things he's ever allowed across his palate and into his body, his very soul. Tonight this ground became hollowed, made by the love practiced here. Their blood would seep beyond the blankets and deep into the desert ground, marrying with the sand and lives of millions that had come before them, following the cycle of life.

They were one with each other in all ways, and it wouldn't stop tonight. Their rituals would continue as long as they did, Max knew this to be true. He knew that he'd need this again. He would never find enough nights of sharing in love and blood, flesh and come. Licking across the small area above Michael's pubic bone, Max bites it sharply, and begins to suck on the blood that flows. He's got his fingers deep into his lover, pumping against his prostate as he drinks the life of the man he'll never find enough of.

It's a miracle, a wonder of pain and pleasure, and when Michael tells him that he's ready-- Max might have normally waited, have quickly added that third finger. Instead, he merely coats himself in blood and lube and pushes himself through the thick tight muscles of his beloved. It's a battle, and he knows that it must hurt, but he covers Michael's body with his own and eats up any moan of pain with his mouth and kisses that sear in the flavor of their love, burning it against their lips, and cradling it along their tongues as they kiss. He wallows in the passion they both share, knowing that there's nothing in this world or any other that could ever separate the state of their minds or bodies now. They are one in a way that no person could pull apart.

[cosmiccowboy]

It's like they exist on their own wavelength apart from everyone else, just the two of them. Even when they're apart they are so tapped in, so attuned to each other it's like they know what the other is thinking and feeling most of the time. Even still, Michael hates being apart which is ironic, he knows, because he's the one who usually runs from things. Maybe it's a testament to how much he's grown this year or Max's affect on him, or a bit of both.

The thing is, Max knows exactly how to love Michael. He knows what he needs usually before Michael even does. He knows when to be gentle and soft, during those moments when Michael is feeling a little more vulnerable. He also knows when Michael needs that good ol' fashioned Max Evans tough love or like now when he needs it deep and rough and unforgiving.

He knew the pain was coming and yet he can't help but cry out as Max pushes himself inside. His muscles spasm, clamping down as he breathes through the sharp burn and then Max's body is there covering his own, his mouth swallowing any moans and sounds of pain and it feels so good to have Max surrounding him everywhere. He moves his hips, gasping into Max's mouth, his body beginning to relax. The pain mixed with the feeling of being so completely filled by his lover was everything he wanted, everything he needed.

"I love you. Fuck, I love you." he gasps, fingers clawing at Max's sides griping and digging into his ribs to pull him closer, to hold them flush together.

[revolvings]

It's been a long time coming, this. Everything about them took far to long and now that they have it, Max knows that they are so destined for one another because of the way they are anchored so tightly together. Nothing can rip through the bonds that they share, not now, not ever. Max might be jealous of Alex in theory, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that there's no way that man could or would ever be able to come close to what Michael and Max share. The heart bond, the soul, the way they feel one another on every level. The sex that they have, and this desperate need to always be together.

These things are only things that Max and Michael could have with one another, and max knows as surely that Michael does that neither of them would ever give any part of this up. They both know the needs of the other. Michael can anticipate Max's moods now, and knows when to come running when Max has his nightmares, and knows how to chase away the darkness-- just how max knows that tonight they both needed this.

Taking Michael swiftly, and pushing through the pain, Max leans over and licks through a bit of sweat. He taps kisses all down Michael's jaw, and along his neck, biting his shoulder and, shoving himself in tightly with a grunt. "Shit baby. you're so fucking tight. It's the best feeling. I need you." He pulls out a little and shoves himself back in, banging their hips together tightly every time he takes Michael.

Pulling up a little, he lifts up his lover's leg so he can have a better angle to really push in deep and hard, picking up the pace so that it's fast and loud as he fucks Michael hard. There's a moan with every single loud thrust of his hips, they smack and jerk along the bed of rocks and blankets beneath them. He's branding Michael with his body. Leaning down, the sweat that's formed along them moistens the concoctions that they were covered in and makes them slick as they move against one another. "Jesus baby." He can feel electricity form around him and in the air, his control strong but he lets it come. Thunder rolls and Max cover's Michael's mouth with his, kissing him hard.

[cosmiccowboy]

Jealousy is a real part of both of their makeups. Michael knows it can be worse for Max at times because Alex pops up every once in a while like a virus that you just can't kick but Michael gets jealous too. God, does he get jealous. He tries so hard not to, to keep it inside and swallow it down. It's harder without the drinking. They both get jealousy that eats them up from the inside sometimes but Michael knows Max can feel what's real, knows his feelings, his thoughts, his desires down to the deepest darkest parts of him. It's not always enough when that green beast rears its head but it's there to soothe the wounds after when clearer heads have prevailed.

Michael would never, never give any single part of this up for anything or anyone, not the good or the messy. Max is his home, the other half of his soul and what they have could never exist with anyone else; ever. Tonight is a reminder of this. The pain is a reminder just as much as the pleasure is.

The thunder, the electricity surrounding them, he can feel it over his skin, in his veins, in every touch and the fire of Max's mouth on his. It's so much he forgets to breathe until Max is shifting, lifting his leg and driving in deep, setting Michael's nerve endings on fire and he moans wantonly, unashamedly, fingers digging half moons into his skin as he holds on. "Max, fuck yes. Please-yes just like that baby please..."

[revolvings]

People are always saying things like I've found my purpose in life, and Max always thought that he had a destiny, and that was to be the Savior. It was his name after all. It was the one given to him by Michael's mother. He was the one person that was meant to go to Oasis and save them all. That was his sole purpose in life, and yet it never felt right. He was so much more, and he wanted a deeper purpose, something that filled his soul. This here, Michael, this night, this very convergence of two hearts coming together like this in an unholy union under the stars for all to know, this was his purpose. Michael was his purpose.

Nothing else made sense to Max. Nothing made sense except the body that he now occupied. The body that surrounded him as he tore through it, using all his strength to forefully drive himself inside. They'd taken bites of one another earlier, and now Max was filling Michael completely. He was taking him as if he could somehow push right through him, into him and become one completely. Max wanted to crawl inside his lover and be so totally one that neither of them existed without the other.

"Fuck baby, I can feel the ends of you. You are magnificent." He cried out against the winds, the lightning that crashed nearby. Their skin rang with static, and Max hovered over Michael's body, holding him tight and kissing him hard. He could feel himself growing close to that ultimate point and knew that Michael could feel it all as well. "I'm almost there. Shit baby..." He thrust a few more desperate times, hips suddenly stuttering and then it was as if the world burst before him, and he dug his heels into the desert sand. Max's body went rigid and he came hard inside the one he loved more than any other. Long hot bursts of come shot up inside michael, marking the inside as Max's as well as the outside already was. "Mine." He cried, before slowly falling over and into another deep kiss, needing to seal everything that just happened between them.

[cosmiccowboy]

From day one, it was clear Max was destined for greatness and Michael loved him desperately, painfully since the moment they stepped out of their pods. Sometimes that love was so strong, it looked like hatred but it was always love, a deep, soul wrenching love that he didn't know how to live with. It's still the same love but it's also more. It's love, it's obsession, it's fate, it's the very sustenance he needs to live. With Max inside of him, filling him, driving into him so desperately, Michael almost wishes he could die right then so that he never has to know what it's like to feel empty ever again.

"Oh god, oh fuck, Max, baby, you feel so good. You belong right here. Inside me. Fuck."

When his orgasm hits him, hard and suddenly, without even touching himself, he thinks it feels a little bit like dying. He can feel Max throb and fill him with his release, warm and sacred, spilling out down his thighs and Michael tenses, crying out and gripping Max so tightly, as if he would disappear if he let go. He spills over both their stomachs, painting their bodies in his cum and he's trembling and breathless, whining into the kiss as he writhes, rocking back onto Max's cock as he rides out the final waves of pleasure.

Everything that's just happened, this night, is sealed with Max's lips on his and Michael licks into his mouth, deepening the connection, licking and biting and moaning breathlessly as he clings to him.

[revolvings]

There was always such a painful connection between them that it would never be sealed until they had torn one another apart it felt like. Dying for such a love was even not enough. It real was soul wrenching and desperate, an ever aching thing that felt like it's own living organism that had branched off from their bodies into a wild creature of its own wicked desire, forcing the pair of them to live by its will. Yet how could they do anything but that with this love. It was their only true focus in life. Nothing could ever keep them apart.

Not truly. Not when their bodies fit so perfectly, that not ever a glove fit anything like Max and Michael fit one another. That Michael would come again so quickly was proof of this. He'd found himself what felt like mere minutes before and now here he was again rocking against his beloved and lost to a prostate orgasm that budded up and spilled over and through him as Max threw himself against Michael, offering wave after wave through their connection, spinning them through one another's orgasms in a flurry of unfettered pleasure.

Biting back into their unyielding kisses and connection, Max moans and continues to work his hips against Michael, not wanting to give up any part of this night. It's been too intimate, wound too tightly in the stars for it to come to an end. "I love you so fucking much. I don't want to let go of any of this tonight."

[cosmiccowboy]

This was more than amazing sex, this was more than love. This, them, they transcended anything and everything whole, and good, and perfect in this universe. Michael has been searching for his purpose, where he belongs, his entire life. This is it. He belongs with this man. Nothing else truly matters and nothing will ever change that for him.

Their bodies really do fit so fucking perfectly. Michael can't help but rock back onto Max's cock still, even as his body trembles from the aftershocks of his orgasm. Every single time they come together like this, pouring everything into their connection, it only gets stronger and Michael feels like he's somehow both tethered to the man inside of him and free-falling at the same time.

It's addicting. Like Max, he doesn't want to give up a moment, a second of this night. He's never felt so close to another soul before, so completely engulfed and lost in him. He thinks he might mourn this night when it's over. "Don't let go, baby. I don't want you to. I can't let go. I can't."

[revolvings]

There was no thoughts, no words, nothing that could transcend what brought them together this night in the desert. The things that they'd done to one another were probably unspeakable to others, but felt so impossibly perfect to Max, and through their bond, Max knew Michael felt the same. There was nothing that wasn't shared as infinitely perfect between the two souls that laid there mated.

Feeling Michael rocking back into him, makes Max moan and feel the impossible. It's like he knows that they weren't meant to give up a single second of this evening together. They weren't meant to part if even for a moment. Shivering against the night, and into the life of his mate-- for what are they now if not lifemates. Max pushes his hips inward again, feeling his softness drag against the still tight muscles of Michael's body. It makes him moan.

He turns his head and leans over to lick up some of the dried blood along Michael's shoulder, pressing in again. He licks and presses in, like a strange ritual. They're covered in one another, but this won't end the night. "I wont let go...I need you, forever. eternally. your life is my life." He sucks at the side of Michael's neck and runs his teeth over the surface there, digging them in enough to imprint, but nothing beside that.

[cosmiccowboy]

The things they'd done together this night probably were unspeakable to others but Michael found that he doesn't care. He's never cared what people thought of him outside of the people he cared about and that hasn't changed. No one had to understand their relationship or the ways and depths in which they loved each other. Hell, he's pretty sure Max is truly the only one who really knows him, understands him inside and out. Max knows what he's feeling sometimes even before Michael does and he knows what Michael needs. Max loves him and somehow feels the same and that's all that matters.

"There won't be a day that goes by that I don't need you. This pull between us, this invisible tether will always exist. There is nothing I wouldn't give you. My life, my body, my soul, everything I was and everything I will be, it's all yours. Ask and it's yours."

He's never believed in miracles but he doesn't know how else to make sense of tonight. Even after everything they've done to one another, the press of Max's hips, the slow drag of his softening cock makes him moan and he arches into the pull of the teeth on his neck. Reaching a hand back, he cups the back of Max's head, fingers curled in the soft strands of his hair so he can pull him in and hold him impossibly closer. "God, I don't want this night to end. I think I'm addicted to you."