familylovehim | Aftersex pancakes? :D?

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Aftersex pancakes? :D?

Michael woke up.. feeling very warm. Which was strange because he was still in New York, wasn't he? Looking around for the offending object that had woken him, he snatched his phone off the table and flipped it open to shut it up. But it wasn't a call. I was like, 8 trillion text messages from his brother GOB. Rolling his eyes, he put the phone on silent, double-checking to make sure George Michael hadn't called.

And that's when everything from the previous night came back to him, all at once. He couldn't help the smile that came over his face as he laid in her bed and stared at the ceiling. He had a conference today but not for a few hours yet. And they weren't even important meetings -- he had come out here in the Michael-version of a vacation, after all.

Upon further inspection, he realized he was alone in bed, and he could hear the shower running. Begrudgingly, he decided to get up and find something useful to do.

He pulled on his slacks and padded off to the kitchen in search of some breakfast. Some investigation yielded a box of pancake mix and some eggs. Shrugging, he set to work.

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Not wanting to break the contact, but wanting to make it easy for him, she slid off of his chest and on to her back on the bed next to him. Her fingers moved slowly through his brown hair as she whimpered and squirmed under his fingers.

As his thumb brushed over her nipple, it hardened and she let out a stifled little gasp. "Use your mouth, please? That's what I would like."

Michael raised his eyebrows, but nodded, taking her nipple firmly between his lips. Scraping his teeth along the edge he worked a finger inside her while she was... otherwise distracted.

Her back arched, fingers tightening their hold on his hair as she moaned softly. She was in heaven, her head swimming with pleasure as he fingered her. Spreading her legs, she bent a knee and offered more of herself up to him.

She was soaked, she always got like that when she got someone off. Already worked up, it wouldn't take long before she got off.

Smiling, his lips left her breast in favor of her stomach as he slowly pushed another finger inside, working them against her clit. He licked and nipped the expanse of skin from navel to hip, making sure to concentrate on the bruises there. Her words were running through his head even as he stroked her insides -- she didn't mind being marked by him; she enjoyed the reminder... All of it, these whole two days, would eventually be subsumed by other memories. But the one thing that would remain was this feeling.

The feeling he was doing something right.

Taking a breath, he moved more confidently in between her thighs, still pinching and working her with his fingers as his tongue delved inside.

She let out a small whine when he left her breasts, it was only half hearted, especially when she felt his lips moving down her body. God, it was nice to have someone pay attention to her, her needs, her wants. Someone who actually cared if she felt good or not.

At his pressure against her bruises her hips arched and she moaned loudly. They did hurt, when someone pushed at them, and that pain went straight through her. Her pussy tightened around his fingers, shaking with the need to get off.

It was his tongue that pushed her over the edge, that and the sight of him between her legs. Moaning loudly, her head rolled to the side as she thrust herself up against his face, soaking his fingers and his tongue. "Oh, Michael . . . "

Michael smiled as his name dropped from her lips, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean. He dragged himself up the length of her body, his head lolling on her shoulder, a leg wrapped possessively around her hips.

"You taste good," he said, seemingly to no one in particular, nipping gently at her throat.

"Why thank you darling," her words were a bit breathless, still coming down from her high. Turning her head, she cupped his cheek and caught his lips in a slow, gentle kiss. She could taste herself on him, a familiar taste, and something she had no problem with.

"Thank you, that felt so good, just what I needed." Turning her body she snuggled close to his chest, her eyes closing.

Stroking her hair idly, he felt her relax into him. They stayed like that for a long time, neither saying a word. The city was still teetering on the edge of morning, from the small tendrils of light Michael caught peeking through her blinds, and the bustle he could hear picking up to an even keel.

"I should shower," he said mournfully, not making a move to get up. "George Michael will be here soon."

She didn't want him to go, she didn't want him to move. She wanted him to stay right there with her for the rest of the day. It was almost a frightening thought. Shaking her head she gave a grunt and tightened her arms around him, silently suggesting that he wasn't going to go anywhere.

"I like you here, I don't want you to go." She finally muttered into his chest, half hoping that he wouldn't hear her, saving her the embarrassment of potential rejection.

What the fuck was she saying? She didn't even know his last name!

The boldness of her words startled him, but he merely laughed, responding the only way he knew how: with lame humor.

"I'm only going to shower. I'll be gone.. ten minutes, tops."

And with that, he planted a kiss to her temple and marched off to the bathroom, not daring to look back.

She watched him go through short strands of dark hair, and when the bathroom door was finally closed she sighed. Sliding under the sheets, she rolled over to where he had been laying and pressed her face to the pillow.

It was possible that she was one of the biggest idiots in New York, and that was saying a lot.

What was she getting herself into?

Michael hummed happily as he showered, using Alice's flowery shampoo to tame his greasy hair. Just a short few days ago, he had believed his days were numbered -- that no woman in her right mind would want him. Uptight and boring Michael, like GOB always said.

Not that what GOB said was ever taken into account, but he believed it too, sometimes. He cleaned himself efficiently, padding out of the shower in exactly 9 minutes and 52 seconds.

Towel wrapped securely around his waist, he found his pants near the foot of the bed and pulled them on. He wasn't exactly a Never-Nude, obviously, but certainly a not-nude-unless-necessary was appropo.

Edited 2008-06-26 21:10 (UTC)

Alice hadn't moved from her spot on the bed, well she had kicked off the sheets, but that's because it was too hot. Laying on her back, she twirled a piece of dark hair around her finger, smoking a cigarette. Thinking, thinking about what she had to do later that night and how long he was going to be staying in New York. She hadn't thought to ask him that, or a lot of other things.

When he opened the door, she crushed out the cigarette, and waved the smoke away from her face. Eyebrows raised when he pulled on his pants and she shook her head a little bit. She could never understand why people had issues with being naked.

Still, there was something about a slightly damp man in just slacks. "You look good like that."

"Do I?" he asked, looking down at himself. He had never seen anything special about his appearance or body. He was.. kind of stiflingly normal, at least in presence.

Sighing, he climbed into bed next to her, propping himself up against the headboard. His eyes raked over her body as he found himself thinking about her occupation. He really couldn't judge her for it, despite the fact that part of him wanted to. She looked so comfortable this way, naked and young.. absolutely stunning.

He noted her serious expression, and donned one of his own, thinking... It was already Thursday and he was due back in Newport News on Sunday afternoon.

"Is this the part where we stop being strangers?" he asked helplessly. This thing had grabbed hold of them, so suddenly; without any sort of warning. Michael thought it was love, but how could he be sure? Maybe it was simple lust, trapped away for a year of celibacy.

"Mmmm, you do, you look very good every way I've seen you. You are a handsome man, Michael." Turning her head, she looked up at him, catching that glance, his eyes moving down her body. In a different setting, it would have been normal, just business, but this was intimate, and she felt the need to impress him.

Stretching out, she rolled on to her side, proping herself up with an elbow as she started to kiss up his chest. She could taste the water that clung to him, and smelt her soap on his flesh, and found that she liked it. Grinning she nodded, the tip of her nose brushing over a nipple as she moved.

"Yes, this is where we stop being strangers. I'll answer whatever questions you want me to," just maybe not honestly. There was a certain fear with being familiar with someone, strangers were easy because you didn't know a thing about them. When they walked out, there was never any problem.

He blushed, accepting her praise with a bowed head.

Michael, too, was afraid of this intimacy they shared. He would always carry the knowledge that even if she stayed with him... the rest of the Bluths would probably scare her away. Thanking his lucky stars, Michael sighed. At least George Michael wasn't scary.

He pulled her away from his chest, shuddering lightly as their lips met in a shallow kiss. He couldn't exactly get it up after... and now his son was on his way. He wasn't as young as he used to be; that above all other things was becoming abundantly clear.

"Okay, let's do it this way," he proposed, draping an arm over her shoulder. "You ask me a question and then I'll ask you a question, okay?"

It was ridiculously juvenile, but his heart quickened just a little at the prospect of knowing more about the mysterious and beautiful woman in his arms.

The blushing was cute, lots of things about him were cute, and she was enjoying finding all of them out.

Returning the kiss, she slid her hand down his chest and then to his hip, keeping her touch light, undemanding. His lips were soft, and she was falling in love with kissing him. The question was, if she was actually falling in love with him.

Putting her head on his chest she closed her eyes and then grinned. "Okay, let's do it that way." Silent, she cracked an eyelid and looked up. "I'll start, what's your last name?"

He blinked -- had they really not exchanged last names? He hadn't even thought about it...

"Michael Bluth," he said flatly, inclining his head more towards her. "Yours?"

It was his expression that set her to giggling, it seemed so silly, so completely . . . weird. After all the time they spent together . . .

"It's nice to meet you, Michael Bluth. I'm Alice, Alice Ayres." That set her to giggling again and she stole a quick kiss in order to make up for the inappropriate case of the giggles.

"How long are you going to be in town for?"

Trying not to crack a smile, he shook her hand in greeting.

"Likewise. I'll be in New York until Saturday evening."

He didn't last long, his mirth shining through.

"And what are you laughing about, Alice Ayres?"

"That doesn't count as a question!" She declaired, and shook a finger at him along with a mock disapproving look.

It didn't count, but she answered it anyway. "I'm laughing, because I knew what your cock looked like before I knew your last name. C'mon, now that's funny."

Calming, but still grinning like an idiot, she laid her head back down on his chest.

"Well, you did say you wanted a stranger," he reminded her, waggling his finger right back.

She was right though -- his question hadn't counted.

"Okay.. Where are you from?"

"You are the perfect stranger, Michael." Wrinkling her nose, she growled and snapped at his finger playfully.

"Small town, USA, population fifteen hundred. You know the type, one main road, lots of people getting into your business." Not something, she liked to think about often, she hated going back there even more then talking about it.

"Have you ever worn women's underwear?"

"I don't know about that," he commented, noting she didn't give out the name of the town. He resigned himself to ask her at a more pressing time.

Eyes widening, he gave her a look.

"No, do I look like I have?"

"Well it's not really up to you, is it? Your my stranger and what I say goes." Grrr, layin' down the law, Alice.

"Oh Michael, what does a man who dresses up in woman's clothing LOOK like anyway? Of course not, but I knew a guy who looked totally white bread, and loved wearing woman's panties. He was a real sweetheart."

"Plus," she added, as she shifted against his chest, "there's nothing wrong with wearing women's underwear."

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Aftersex pancakes? :D?

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