Michael [Van Helsing] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
i_vanquish_evil) wrote2005-03-24 02:22 pm
i_vanquish_evil) wrote2005-03-24 02:22 pm
Otherways
other!Milli-timed! This occurs between this and this - it's actually HOW Michael is able to be not-uber-angsty. Yay!
Michael wakes to find himself huddled in the corner, his face pressed into a pillow and a couple blankets wrapped around his body. He opens his eyes and gazes across the room, around the room. The bed is leaning at a steep angle - sloped from headboard to where the footboard would be, only it's the floor. He has a vivid memory of how that happened and he sighs, heavily, as he pushes himself upright.
He draws the blankets around him, just gazing across the room. The blankets are warm, but not as nice as Isabel's arms, Nick's arms. And blankets are no good at kissing.
*…isn't it much more fun to discover yourself…*
Shit, yes. Nick, you suck.
And he thinks back to that first kiss with Nick, feeling Nick move in, dip his head, touch his lips to his own. The feel of Nick's mouth on his, warm, male, strong - it was sensory and emotional overload - not like with Isabel's soft, feminine lips - no, Nick's kiss sent him over the edge. Dragged up long-suppressed memories that spilled down his cheeks. Utter loneliness. For just a moment after that kiss, he felt the deepest loneliness he had known since Carl had died. But Nick didn't leave. Nick kissed him again and held him, talked to him.
Slowly, the emptiness began to slip away - not fully, but enough. Enough to allow him to kiss Nick on his own - seemingly simple, but far from it in reality. And Nick had let him, passed no judgment, just was there.
Once Nick had gone, he was alone again, but not nearly as lonely. The feeling had warmed him, but other things - Isabel things - forced a chill the next morning.
Somehow, though, they had fixed that, or mostly fixed it - with talking and tickling and dancing. The dancing had been nice. The dancing had also left him so worked-up he had nearly jumped Nick in the hallway. Well, he sort of had jumped the vampire, but dragged him into the room before he got started on anything.
That had been good - the whole thing - the sex, the kissing, the bite even. Damn, Nick. The biting. What did you see? Sense? Taste? I know it was something beyond just my name. Why was the bite part so damned good? And it was good - nothing else would make him kick the footboard off his bed. Okay, so maybe that was a combination of orgasm, projected emotion, pain and the bite, but still, it takes a great deal of intense emotion to boost his adrenaline quite that high. Or, you know, a werewolf bite.
Whatever, really. Right now, he needs a shower.
Michael wakes to find himself huddled in the corner, his face pressed into a pillow and a couple blankets wrapped around his body. He opens his eyes and gazes across the room, around the room. The bed is leaning at a steep angle - sloped from headboard to where the footboard would be, only it's the floor. He has a vivid memory of how that happened and he sighs, heavily, as he pushes himself upright.
He draws the blankets around him, just gazing across the room. The blankets are warm, but not as nice as Isabel's arms, Nick's arms. And blankets are no good at kissing.
*…isn't it much more fun to discover yourself…*
Shit, yes. Nick, you suck.
And he thinks back to that first kiss with Nick, feeling Nick move in, dip his head, touch his lips to his own. The feel of Nick's mouth on his, warm, male, strong - it was sensory and emotional overload - not like with Isabel's soft, feminine lips - no, Nick's kiss sent him over the edge. Dragged up long-suppressed memories that spilled down his cheeks. Utter loneliness. For just a moment after that kiss, he felt the deepest loneliness he had known since Carl had died. But Nick didn't leave. Nick kissed him again and held him, talked to him.
Slowly, the emptiness began to slip away - not fully, but enough. Enough to allow him to kiss Nick on his own - seemingly simple, but far from it in reality. And Nick had let him, passed no judgment, just was there.
Once Nick had gone, he was alone again, but not nearly as lonely. The feeling had warmed him, but other things - Isabel things - forced a chill the next morning.
Somehow, though, they had fixed that, or mostly fixed it - with talking and tickling and dancing. The dancing had been nice. The dancing had also left him so worked-up he had nearly jumped Nick in the hallway. Well, he sort of had jumped the vampire, but dragged him into the room before he got started on anything.
That had been good - the whole thing - the sex, the kissing, the bite even. Damn, Nick. The biting. What did you see? Sense? Taste? I know it was something beyond just my name. Why was the bite part so damned good? And it was good - nothing else would make him kick the footboard off his bed. Okay, so maybe that was a combination of orgasm, projected emotion, pain and the bite, but still, it takes a great deal of intense emotion to boost his adrenaline quite that high. Or, you know, a werewolf bite.
Whatever, really. Right now, he needs a shower.