|posted on 8-Dec-2001 11:33:16 AM|
|Here is the first part to my new polar fanfic Fire which is the sequel to Crash. If you haven't read Crash then this will probably make no sense whatsoever.|
You probably thought I was gone.
That my story was finally over.
And the ending, it was far from a fucking happily ever after but I'm sure it left you with a feeling that everything would turn out ok.
I'm disappointed. I thought I taught you better then that.
Did you already forget the first thing I ever said to you.
Well, here's a refresher course.
"Nobody's a virgin 'cause the world screws us all."
Not a good outlook on life now, is it?
Did you honestly believe that I would change, that I would get over my pain and my guilt and my fear.
Get real, we're talking about the real world here.
Granted, I am an alien but that just complicates everything even more.
And my path is just getting rockier and I'm not sure I can weather it.
I'm not sure if I want too.
You know those little dots in ceiling tiles.
There are 2018 of them in my room.
It's amazing the things you notice when you spend 24 hours in bed.
Not that it was my fucking choice, Michael made it for me.
He's worried about me. Not that I blame him.
Finding me on the verge of suicide, mumbling about how it was all my fault that my best friend died in a horrible car accident must have been a shocker.
Me, I'm not worried about myself.
"You okay?" Michael asked, as he entered my room.
"What do you think?" I ask, glaring coldly from my bed.
"That you look better," he answered, sitting down at the end of my bed.
I close my eyes.
Last night was a moment of weakness.
I hate myself for it.
I'm supposed to be stronger than that.
"I look like shit, don't even try to lie," I said, turning away from him.
"You look beautiful," Michael whispered into my ear, as he ran his hand across my cheek.
"Don't tell me you're going all soft on me," I said, trying to stop the smile from spreading across my face.
"Sorry, I can't help it," Michael whispered, his lips brushing my neck.
Michael has these lips, they're just amazing.
They're soft and seductive and even at the lightest touch my entire body reacts.
Even if it' against my will.
See, Michael's been great.
He's been fucking amazing.
And I hate him for it.
Because it makes me need him even more.
"You know you have no self-control," I mumble, as his hand traces down my side.
"Your point?" he says, his words muffled by my neck.
"Do I have to have one?" I ask, rolling over. Michael's propped himself over me and I freeze as our eyes lock.
And we stay like that for God knows how long, not moving.
I can hear my heartbeat in my ear, I can feel his eyes piercing into me.
I'm not sure I'm breathing anymore.
Part of me wants to push Michael away, to break this fucking spell he's woven around me. To get my control back.
But another part me, that small voice that is taking over my mind, is telling me that I'll erupt if I don't pull him closer. That the world will end if I don't taste his kiss, if I don't feel his touch, if I don't give him control over me.
"I should go," Michael whispers.
I should let him walk away.
The old, bitch Liz is telling me that's the smart decision.
But Michael said I was never good at walking away.
He was right.
"You don't have to," I plead, praying that he doesn't see how desperate I am to keep him in my bed.
"Liz, this could quickly turn into a bad situation," Michael said.
"Don't tell me you're scared we'll have another flash," I complain, tilting my head to the side.
"No, it's just...," he started, but trailed off. I re-locked eyes with him.
"You mean, the fact that you're in my bed," I said, smiling.
"Yeah," Michael mumbled, as I wrapped my arm around his neck.
"And we are home alone," I whisper, pulling myself up so my lips brush his ear.
"And you're an emotional wreck," Michael said, closing his eyes.
"I am not," I said, letting myself fall back onto the pillow.
"You're recovered already?" Michael asked, with concern.
"Repressed is a better word," I joked, as I ran my fingers through his hair.
"This is wrong," he said, but in his words I could hear him breaking.
"You so sure about that?" I asked, as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
"Liz," he whispered, half begging, half moaning as I pulled his body tightly against mine.
"I love you, Michael," I said, not letting my eyes leave his.
And then his lips were on mine, desperately kissing me.
And I knew we had crossed the line as he pressed his body against mine.
There was no turning back.
It's not my fault.
I'm the one who's an "emotional wreck."
He should have left, like he said.
Who the fucking hell am I kidding?
I would have hated him if he left me.
And it's my fault he stayed.
And I'm happy.
Good things come to those who wait.
Better things come to those who take.
//\\//Feedback is great, I will LOVE you for it.
I'm hoping to have part two up sometime this week.