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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Michael complied, grabbing a plate and sliding her eggs on it as he began to make the pancakes and fry up a few eggs for himself.

"I slept like a rock." Like he always did when he was drunk.

"You didn't snore either, I am very impressed." Buttering the toast, she licked the crumbs and the butter from her fingers, setting them aside as she looked at him.

"Do you like cream and sugar in your coffee?"

"That's one vice no one can accuse me of."

Alice didn't exactly look like someone who would have Equal...

"Milk no sugar."

"I didn't know snoring was a vice these days," she giggled before pouring two cups of coffee and fixing them how both of them liked. His without sugar.

The counter also served as a table, and she climbed up on one of the stools, retucking her towel as she got situated.

"It is if your name is Buster Bluth." Michael made a face in remembrance of that memorable affair. Shaking it off, he placed the plate of pancakes and sunny-side up eggs in front of her. Grabbing his own plate, he threw some toast on it and settled in on the stool next to hers

"So.. any plans today?" he asked casually, sipping at his coffee and scooping up egg-yolk with his toast.

"Buster . . . that's so weird. It was my nickname for someone, and sometimes it slips out. I hope you don't get offended if I call you Buster." She shook her own head and started to eat, there was a lot of food on the plate, more then she thought she had in the whole house.

Grinning, she swallowed some eggs with a mouthfull of coffee and glanced at him. "Nothing, I don't work until late, so I pretty much have the whole day free. What about you?"

"Not offended," he corrected, cutting up his pancakes meticulously. "Confused, probably."

"Hm, well I have a meeting.." He glanced at his watch. "In three hours."

"Well, just remember that I am fucking you and not him." She said simply with a shrug of her shoulders before biting into a pancake. "Very good."

Wiping her mouth off, she turned to him and gave him an obvious once over before swallowing. "You're all mine for three hours?"

"I'll try to keep that in mind." He smirked sideways, shuffling through the things on the counter until he found yesterday's paper. "I know, Betty makes a mean pancake."

He put down the paper and looked at her a minute. Just... looked.

"I guess." Shrug. "If you'll have me."

Edited 2008-06-26 05:14 (UTC)

"You best, other wise this might get awkward." Putting her elbow on the counter, she raised her eyebrows at him. "Betty? Betty Crocker? I am sure she had some help."

Meeting his gaze, she picked up her coffee and then winked slowly at him as she took a long drink.

"If I'll have you? Why wouldn't I want to have you?"

"Yeah, it's called water," Michael answered dryly, sipping appreciatively at his coffee.

Evasionary tactics were Michael's specialty.

"I was just kidding," he lied, getting up suddenly. "I have to call George Michael again -- tell him to get the staircar before they tow it."

Michael trotted off to make his call and came back in wearing a loose-fitting tee-shirt of Alice's that was.. not quite too snug.

"I hope you don't mind," he said lightly, on the edge of laughter.

She didn't move from her place at the counter, just watching him with that semi-familiar feeling of growing dread in the pit of her stomach. He was having regrets, everything that happened last night? He thought it was just one big mistake.

It took her awhile to smile when he came back with the tee-shirt, wasn't she suppose to be walking around in his clothes? "It looks better on you then it does on me," she remarked.

Sliding off the chair, she walked to him, her eyes down cast as she worked her hands up his chest. Cupping his face, she brought him down into a slow, gentle kiss, raising up on her tippy toes so she could actually reach him properly.

"Does not," he argued, lagging a moment before kissing her back feverishly. "What did I do to deserve that?"

But she wasn't smiling with him. He had already fucked up, hadn't he?

Frowning he asked, "What's wrong, Optimistic Alice?" He inclined her chin upwards so they were eye-to-eye. "Who's Optimistic Alice without her optimism?"

"I wanted to kiss you, do I have to have a reason to?" At that she did smile, already pushing him lightly back toward the bed.

Looking up into his eyes, she paused when they were at the foot of the bed. "I was worried that you were regretting last night, that you realized what you said and . . ." A bare shoulder shrug dislodged her towel a bit that was already barely holding on to her slender frame.

Without make up, in the sun, she looked a lot younger then she actually was. In the morning, without a shower, he had that disheveled look, handsome and boyish all at the same time. She loved it. "Just Alice, that's all I am."

Michael blinked a few times. Wasn't he the one that was supposed to beg the beautiful woman to stay? The tables were all turned around and it made his eyes hurt.

"Regret it?" he asked sharply, hand on the side of her neck -- oblivious to her apparent nakedness. "How could I regret it?"

His frown deepened as he opened her mouth for another kiss, loving how pliant and warm her lips were beneath his.

"Well, Just Alice... What do you have in store for the next two-hours-and-however-long-it-takes-for-my-son-to-find-my-car?" He punctuated by kissing the side of her face, slowly making it back to her lips again.

Shaking her head she dropped her gaze, feeling pretty foolish and insecure, questioning him like that. But how was she to know? People lied, people used other people, and she saw that first hand.

"I don't know. Maybe you realized I was trouble." The corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile as she let him kiss over her face to her lips. Groaning a little she opened her mouth to him, her tongue flicking out to taste him and the breakfast he just ate.

Oh, she had lots of ideas, and instead of telling him, she was more interested in showing him. Her fingers started to undo his fly, the palm of her hand moving over his crotch.

He gasped in surprise, his hips twitching to meet her hand as his gaze traveled lower. He saw the angry bruises marbling her flesh, standing stark against pale skin.

"I'm sorry," he said, his words sincere as he brushed his fingertips over one bruised hip. They looked so bad...

Following his gaze down to her own hips she grinned at the bruises and shrugged a bit. "Why? I like them, I think they are sexy, and plus, they remind me of you."

They did stand out against her skin, and she knew she would have to use a lot of concealer to cover them up for work. It didn't matter, no one would notice anyway. Her fingers slowly inched his fly down as she looked back up at him, her fingers slipping into his pants.

Michael ran his fingers through her hair, still amazed to be here. Shocked that her image hadn't crumbled with the rising sun. He wondered briefly if she'd want to meet George Michael before they went back to Newport News, but all thought was cast away as a thin wrist brushed his cock. It twitched cooperatively in response.

She made a pleased sound in the back of her throat as his cock twitched to life. Her fingers wrapped around him as she started to stroke him slowly, dark gaze still fixed happily on his face. Surrounded by sex all day had made her numb to her own needs, but with him here . . . everything had changed.

"Would you like to give me some more?" She was speaking of course of the bruises. How did he manage to drive her this crazy? Maybe she was losing her mind.

Michael groaned deep in his throat, using his leverage to press their foreheads together.

"I'd rather not," he answered honestly, not wanting to hurt her. "Don't they hurt?"

"If I didn't want it, if it hurt too bad I wouldn't ask for it." Pushing her tiny body up against his, she forced him back on to the bed.

"You are sweet Michael." Bowing her head she kissed right blow his navel, teeth brushing over the warm skin.

Michael was so incredibly blown away by how this tiny woman could overpower him so easily, though if he thought about it he had never been one for physical competition.. and it wasn't as if he was exactly fighting her, after all.

"You say that now.." he snarked, losing the rest of his momentum as his stomach muscles jumped. He could feel himself hardening at the simple action.

Biting his lip, he took her arm in a punishing grip. Now that he was sober it was so hard to fathom marking such flawless flesh... but Michael also knew he'd do anything Just Alice wanted.

The more he hardened, the more she kissed, her fingers sliding up his length to play with his head. Rubbing at the silky tip, smearing the pre-come around over the ridged flesh. The heat making her groan against his belly, as her tongue ventured out to taste him.

She stopped when he grabbed her arm, her head lifted and she looked at him with wide, brown eyes. Her heart was racing as she felt his powerful grip, wondering what he was going to do with her. The thought of him throwing her down on the bed and having his way with her, was thrilling, and she wondered idly if he had it in him.

And there they were, at a stalemate. What could he do?

With wide eyes, he yanked her up by the arm for a kiss. A biting, punishing, breathless kiss. His lips were already bleeding again, he was sure.

"I need some direction here," he said honestly, fingers resting over the impressions from the night before as her near-weightlessness settled on top of him.

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