something from the archives: whispers in the dark - part 2

you guys, the new roswell keeps casting people i like. will i end up watching?

spoiler alert: if it gets picked up, yes, totally.

part 2 follows the jump...

Part 2

*Liz*

Michael is lying on my bed.

Naked.

As in bare as the day he came out of the pod naked.

Completely naked.

And let me just say—Oh my God! He’s amazingly well put together, a great package so to speak. He’s perfect, like Michelangelo’s David, only bigger and alive. Let me not dwell on how much bigger.

Maria was holding out on me.

Oh God. Maria. And Max.

How on Earth will I ever explain this situation to them? I don’t even know how or why it was I got here. With a naked Michael lying on my bed. With these crazy gutter thoughts running through my head.

I’m not really thinking about Maria. Or Max. They’re off having fun. Why can’t I?

I ask him why he’s wearing no clothing.

Only the answer I get sounds like ‘tits too lush’ and quite frankly I wasn’t going to ask him anything else after that.

So here I am. Trying not to freak out about the sexy naked man in my bed.

There’s never been a naked man in my bed before. Kyle kept his boxers on the time we ambushed Max. And well Max, he’s not really into beds from what I can tell. Ugh. Just thinking about that makes me unhappy.

I’m tired. And cranky. And it’s still a half-hour to midnight and I’m exhausted.

I mean to push Michael over so that I have some room to lie down. With all my clothes on.

But when my skin touches his, I get pulled into bed with him, on top of him.

I instinctively push away. I place my hands on his chest and push up, but then I can’t resist lightly running my hands across the ridges of his ribcage, over the supple muscles of his abdomen

He’s sweaty. Feverish. Slightly sticky. Warm.

Sexy.

I want to taste him.

I lick his neck.

And it tastes so fucking good.

I mean I’d never say that, but it’s true.

He flips us around, so that I am flattened beneath his hard length.

It’s as if that touch was all he needed to sober him up. He stares intently into my eyes. Tangles his hands in my hair, runs his fingers through it, down my back to my hips. And my clothing disappears.

The fireworks explode in a cacophony of sound, bringing in the New Year joyously, loudly, extravagantly. But nothing is as important as what is happening in this room, in this bed.

It’s pivotal.

My breath mingles with Michael’s as his lips hover above mine. His mouth is less than a millimeter away, I want to close the distance, feel his kiss.

He whispers, happy New Year Liz.

And then…

Oh dear Lord!

*Maria*

I’m still not too sure of the idea of partying and Max mixing together. Sort of like how you’d never expect Orange and Cranberry juice to go together so well. But like a Sex on the Beach, Max jumps right into the swing of things.

The boy can dance, seriously he’s got some rhythm, and you know what they say about boys who have rhythm.

It’s hot on the dance floor.

The lights are spinning and flashing all around us.

And the beat of the music resonates deep within our gut. It’s a sex thing. And everyone is feeling it.

There are a million different hands on me, hands on him, tearing at our clothes, feeling our bodies up. They trace every inch of bare skin. They push me close. They rub against me.

Then suddenly I’m pulled flush against the lean hard length of Max. And our hips are grinding into each other.

I’m so wet. I’m in gasping need for water.

The dance floor has gotten way too hot.

We find some guy selling water bottles for five bucks a pop. We splurge. We down our waters fast.

And we’re out there again.

So out there.

*Kyle*

She takes me to a frat party.

How can I not love her?

Seriously, perfect woman. Hell, I even love her as a brunette, and I thought the blonde bombshell look was working for her just fine.

She’s smart. She’s sexy. She’s funny.

She’s every guy’s wet dream.

Hello!

She’s married.

And she’s trying to hook you up with some girl Valenti. Get a grip!

So I make an effort. I’m charming. I don’t limit my conversation to sports or cars—I talk about Buddhism and spirituality, girls love that shit.

I’m getting along great with the hot college chick.

I should be happy.

I should be fucking thrilled. Kyle Valenti’s finally going to get some.

Only when Isabel stands up to get us drinks, conveniently leaving me and the girl alone to get it on, Isabel is all I think about.

Now, not only am I an unwilling member of the ‘I know an alien’ club, I’ve apparently also joined the ‘I’m hopelessly in love with an alien even when I know it can’t work out’ club.

Life stinks.

And frankly, I’d rather be up watching a corny Christmas flick with Isabel than chatting this random college chick up. My heart’s not in the game.

So when Isabel gets back I suggest we leave.

I mean I still get the girl’s number. I have to play my part after all.

I may be in love.

With a married alien no less.

But I’m not stupid.

*Max*

The party is unlike anything I’ve ever imagined. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

Maria and I immediately get into the thick of things. We’re dancing in the midst of wildly flailing bodies, a pulsating electronic beat, and a dizzying array of lights. It’s amazing.

It’s like we’re the beating heart of the party. The dance floor is awesome.

It’s so hot. There are so many of us.

There’s someone’s hand on my penis.

I look over at Maria and some guy’s cupping her breasts.

And this irrational wave of protective jealousy overcomes me.

That and my horror to realize that a guy had been rubbing my dick.

So pull Maria into my arms. And we dance in the most suggestive way possible. It’s like we’re having sex with our clothes on. I want that.

I want people to think we’re together.

And we’re sweating and bumping and grinding together.

The physicality of it is overpowering. I’d never thought holding Maria this close could feel so good. Actually, I’m not too sure of why I’m thinking of Maria so much.

Her lips look so full and soft and inviting.

I want to get a taste of them.

Of her.

We pull away from each other like we’ve both been scalded.

It’s too damn hot.

So we get some water from a guy who sells it as if it were gold.

But it quenches our thirst.

Then we’re out on the dance floor again.

Only this time it’s different. It’s more.

Everything is moving. We’re moving in swirls of light.

We’re in the music.

And I have to taste her.

*Michael*

It’s midnight and suddenly everything is dark.

Everything that was all too clear, all too loud, all too bright, is suddenly muddled, quiet, soft. It’s easy to take it all in.

There are fireworks ringing in the distance. But that isn’t important.

I’m holding Liz in my arms. This was never supposed to be. Her skin feels like cool silk against my heated body. She’s lying flush against me.

I turn us so that I’m crushing her beneath me. She doesn’t complain. She seems to welcome the contact. Her lips are slightly open, waiting expectantly. I look into her eyes and see myself in the glittering brown irises—I see myself and I see how she sees me. I see her desire.

I wish her a happy New Year. And seal that with a kiss.

Her lips melt against mine. My tongue slides easily between her teeth and I am tasting her.

Heaven.

When the images rush at me I’m surprised.

She’s making valentines, we’re in the third grade. She takes extra care in pasting mine together. I never came to school that day. I didn’t even say thank you before I threw mine out into the trash.

She’s holding her diary a bemused smile on her face. 

She’s shocked and hurt. Looking through the railings of the stairwell in the Crashdown she sees Maria and me making out that first time, during the heat wave.

She’s upset and scared, and my arms are around her. It’s home.

She’s sitting towards the front of the classroom in the fifth grade, she knows I sit right behind her. She doesn’t understand why I throw things at her, why I pasted together the pages of her math book, why I want to get her in trouble. 

She’s relieved to see me walking out of the granolith chamber. She’s overjoyed that I’m not leaving. We go inside together. We’re holding hands.

I save her from the alien booby-trap. She wants to say more than ‘Thank you,’ but it’s too much.

She saw us both that day in the Crashdown. The day she was shot. She knew what Max was thinking. But she was wondering what I was thinking.

I’d never seen so much. So deeply into another person’s soul, their very heart as I had with Liz. I broke away from the kiss, entranced and gasping. I’d seen the real Liz Parker.

I’d seen how Liz felt about me.

Her gasped echoed mine. And I knew then that she had invaded my head as I had done hers. That somehow she’d broken past all my defenses and she had seen my soul.

I pulled back.

I wanted to run away.

But the truth was we had gone beyond that. There was nothing there for us to run to except each other.

So I cradled her head between my hands, and took her lips in a wild savage kiss.

There was no more hiding left in me.

*Isabel*

It’s bizarre watching Kyle charm the pants off a girl I introduced him to. It’s bizarre and a little unsettling. Unsettling because for a moment I wish he was charming the pants off me.

But I’m a happily married woman.

I’m glad to be out if the whole dating game.

Jesse is a wonderful husband.

He loves me.

Except he doesn’t really know me.

Not the way Kyle does. Kyle knows I’m an alien. He knows who I am. He knows what I am. He knows about Vilandra, and still doesn’t judge me.

These thoughts are driving me crazy. I get up and offer to get us all some drinks.

I need to get a grip.

Jesse is the man I should be thinking about.

He’s my husband.

He’s abandoned me.

That’s not fair of me to think that way. It’s not his fault.

I collect myself enough to bring stuff to drink over to where Kyle is seated, chatting up a storm about Buddhist bullshit and spiritual matters. He’s charming the pants off this girl, he’s definitely going to score and I’ll have to disappear. Be alone.

I’ve already rented a movie. It’ll be okay to watch it by myself. I’ve already taken up entirely way too much of Kyle’s time.

That’s when Kyle announces that we should go.

He takes down the girl’s number and pulls me towards the door.

When I ask him what we’re doing next, he says we’re cruising around in the flashy car for a bit, and that once we’ve gotten our kicks we’ll go back to my place and watch the world’s lamest movie. Then he grins at me.

I’m in love with him.

Oh God. I’m in love with him.

I’m married.

Perhaps the whirlwind courtship wasn’t the right way to go about things.

Because I’m so in love with Kyle.

And I have no idea what on Earth I am to do about it.