Michael [Van Helsing] (
i_vanquish_evil) wrote2005-06-17 08:51 pm
otherways - Venice, Italy - 1997 - Michael's apartment
As they enter, they step through the same doorway Michael returned to Milliways through, only they walk directly into the kitchen. It's small, but Michael's only one person and rarely home anyway. In front of them is the small balcony off the kitchen where Michael has coffee in the morning and brandy in the afternoon and waves to the nice old lady across the canal - the canal that is just a bit too small for the gondola to travel, so no fear of hearing the gondolier singing at any time during the day. When they turn around, they face the small doorway into the living room which has a couch, a chair, a table and lamp and another table with a radio. There is no television - he's never around to watch it, so there is no need. To the left is a short hallway to the bedroom; the hallway also contains a small linen closet. The bedroom - which they will get to shortly - is also small, there's barely a foot of floor space on either side of the bed and about four or five feet between the end of the bed and the wall, much of that taken up by one of the other two pieces of furniture in the room - a small dresser; the other piece is the small nightstand next to the bed, containing a small lamp, a clock and a book - Beowulf. Stephen can ask if Michael's actually read it. The door to the bathroom (also quite small) is next to the dresser. And just beyond that, on the far wall, is the other small balcony - also overlooking the canal.

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He smiles at Michael before dropping his bags.
"Lovely stuff, really. Now...where do I put my things?"
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"Whatever you think will work best, Michael. I'm perfectly happy to be in your hands, literally even."
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"Love you too..."
And then his hand is ghosting along Michael's skin, sliding deftly up his chest and to his shoulders to secure gently as he rubs the muscles underneath. He bites his lip gently to the touch on his cock and continues to stroke Michale, perhaps a little faster, perhaps just a little harder.
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For one, the ones he gives to others don't come complete with a handjob.
He pulls Michael close, one hand wrapped around his waist as the other continues to stroke, still soft and still slow.
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Because they're not in Milliways. They're in Venice. Michael's home. His place. Their place.
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He's home - with Stephen - and it's the best place in the world to be. Soft strokes from strong hands, warm tongue sliding into and around his mouth, gentle fingers curling in his hair; and he mimics everything on Stephen, loving the slowness, the ease of everything. And he doesn't have to say it again, because he knows Stephen knows, but it's sitting there, in his head, ready for when it is needed - I love you...
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So few words for Stephen and yet they seem to do the job.
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The other hand...he can't stop touching, can't stop sliding across the skin, tracing every scar and mark and the curve of every muscle. He loves Michael, loves his body, loves everything that has brought this man to him.
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Fingernails of his other hand graze, lightly, up and down Stephen's back. He's not worried about anything - at all. He's not thinking about anything except being here with Stephen, in Venice, in his own bed... and it's the happiest he's ever been. "Love you... need you..."
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His eyes are closed gently, a strange sort of peace written across his face even as his lips part.
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A small smile.
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"God, Gabriel..."
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"Love, what's all this nonsense about wanting me. I'm right here. You have me. I'd hate to use the engraved invitation comment again, but I'm tempted to, really."
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"We're in Venice. Any lack of romance in my comments is instantly made up for by the setting. So there."
He leans up for a kiss before hissing at the rock of hips.
"Besides...any reaction from you is sexy."
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