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. ]
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Date: 2023-06-01 03:17 pm (UTC)[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. ]