Perfect: The Reality

The reality of their first time didn't go as perfectly as Michael had planned. Even accounting for what he'd believed to be the variables--the place, the situation, the timing--things happened that he'd never considered.

For example, his reaction to Alex touching him. It'd been stronger than Michael had thought it would be. The feel of someone else's hands on his skin... It'd been a long time for since anyone had touched Michael intimately. When Alex had touched him, he'd nearly lost himself. That had made him much less articulate than he would have liked. And a lot more nervous. More worked up. He'd planned to be so calm and collected. Seductive, Confident. Instead, he'd been nervous and stupid. Like a teenager losing his virginity.

Of course he knew that he didn't need to be polished and perfect in bed. Alex wasn't going to mind if he wasn't the most experienced. And Michael didn't need to impress Alex with his mind because he'd already done that and then some.

It was just, there was this part of Michael that still did want to impress Alex. To show him how he felt without the strange inarticulateness that came over him every time he felt for something like this for someone.

Besides. He felt that, if he managed to talk, to sound smart and witty and clever, it'd make up for being so awkward in bed.

That, most certainly, had not happened.

It had started so well. Been going so well. They'd made their connection, and it'd been so deep, they hadn't even needed words. They'd come together magnetically. Naturally.

Like coming home.

Alex had been so focused on him. Attentive. And he'd accepted all of Michael's stupid idiosyncrasies, like not being able to talk, even dirty talk. It took too much concentration, and Michael, the freak that he was, had to concentrate on his body during sex in a way he never had to concentrate on complex thought. And Alex understood that, after Michael came, that was it for awhile. Only light touching and there was no way Michael was going to be able to reciprocate, not if Alex didn't want it to be mildly torturous to him.

He'd been so patient. So perfect, just like Michael always knew he would be. And if Michael hadn't been Michael, it probably would have continued to be so.

But Michael was Michael.

After Alex had brought Michael to completion--and it'd been so perfect, the first time he'd come with anyone else's touch in *years* and that God it had been with Alex instead of...

He didn't want to think of the alternative.

After, they'd laid in bed together. Relaxing in each other's arms. Dozing. Talking. Nothing important. Favorite color (green for Alex; blue for Michael, giving Alex the opportunity to gently tease him about being right at home in prison blues); favorite movie ("The Usual Suspects" for Michael; "The Magnificent Seven" for Alex); books ("Lonesome Dove" for Alex; "Beloved" for Michael); TV show ("Law and Order" in any way, shape or form, for both).

It was wonderful. Talking. Probing each other's minds. Comfortable in a way Michael had never been while in a relationship before.

Comfortable in the way he'd only ever been with family.

They laid there for almost an hour, maybe longer. Their kisses got longer. More heated. Touches more deliberate.

This time, Michael concentrated on not getting caught up. Unfortunately, that meant he had to brush Alex's hands away a couple times, but that was fine. Because this time it was his turn. His turn to explore Alex's body, study it as intently as Alex had studied his.

Michael traced long, lean muscles that held more endurance than strength. He ran his hands over scars, long faded, that spoke of the job he'd once had, the life he'd once hand. A knife wound here. A bullet scar there. And others. A long one on his thigh, running from his knee to his hip on the outside. A tiny puckered one between his thumb and index finger. A freckle on his left shoulder blade; a birthmark on his right hip.

Details to be noticed. Savored. Memorized. A map of Alex's body, and Michael was very fond of maps. The made the world make sense, laid it out in a perfect order. A place for everything, and when he memorized that place, he could get back there once more.

Like...

Alex's left nipple, more sensitive than the right. When Michael ran his tongue over it, Alex's back arched, breath hitched. And when he sucked on it, Alex moaned. The scrape of Michael's teeth produced a louder moan and fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. Definitely a spot to visit again, just like...

...the spot just below Alex's navel. Smooth skin, overlaid by wiry grey-black hair. Trail, running down to a thick next of it, goose-bumps raised as Michael licked down that trail. Pressure from his teeth caused Alex to writhe, and one of his legs came up, as if by accident, and he grabbed the sheets, bunching them. Only Michael wished that Alex would grab him, not the sheets. He rubbed his cheek over the thatch of hair nestled between Alex's legs--God, he loved being touched, love feeling different textures, especially against his cheek--then moved for more exploration. More territory to map. Like...

...the curve of Alex's jawbone. Sharp lines that defined his face--a little too thin, a little too marked by the worry and stress--sweeping upwards to a soft, vulnerable indentation of skin underneath his ear. Michael laved at it with his tongue, sucking on Alex's earlobe for variety. His body draped over the supine one of his... lover's. As he peppered the area with kisses, wetting it, blowing air over the tender bit of flesh, Alex's arms came around him once more. Stroked up Michael's spine. Mouth next to Michael's ear, whispering. Nonsense. Random words, like "mouth" and "yes" and "right there" and "so beautiful" and "so good."

Definitely nonsense.

Michael could tell that Alex was trying not to push him anywhere. To force him to do anything or try to control the situation. But he couldn't help some things. Like how his hands came to rest on Michael's shoulders. The light pressure against them, pushing Michael downwards in a wordless plea.

All in good time, he thought, but he was too busy kissing his way down Alex's side. Licking up one rib, down the other. Leisurely making his way down to the final goal, even as his heart picked up at the thought of it.

It wasn't that he didn't like doing this. The few times he had, he did enjoy it very much. He liked sucking on things. It helped his mind relax. Some people, he knew, had oral fixations that helped them focus on the task at hand. Michael? He bought suckers to suck on when his mind was too full and he was unable to clear the clutter.

He liked having his mouth full. Liked it the few times he'd gone down on a man.

And it was one part of sex he wasn't bad at. He'd had lots of practice with the sucking aspect. The rest was elementary: cover your teeth with your lips, use your tongue intermittently, and the hand on what your mouth can't get. He didn't tend to like to swallow, but *hated* spitting even more; leaving the bedroom for the bathroom seemed rude, and he'd rather let T-Bag have his way with him than spit anything on the floor. The compromise was pulling away before it happened, which left a mess, yes, but it was slightly less disgusting than spit.

So, he wasn't nervous exactly. Michael knew he could do this. And, he also knew that, even if he wasn't as good at sucking as he knew he was, Alex wouldn't care. The point was that they were together, finally, not that Michael sucked him off like a professional.

Still. This was something Michael had been dreaming about forever. He wanted to give Alex something different. Something special.

"Michael," Alex sighed when Michael reached his navel again.

Michael smiled. He licked lightly around the rim of Alex's navel, and Alex groaned. His hips came off the bed, cock rubbed against Michael's cheek.

Michael's eyes fell shut at the unexpected contact against the vulnerable spot. Shivers ran down his spine. Before he froze and took it in hand to rub against his cheek some more (interesting thought, though, and he wondered if maybe he could bring Alex off that way... and if Alex would even like that), he turned his head and sucked the tip of Alexander's cock into his mouth.

* * *

"Oh God," gasped Alexander as Michael's mouth took him in. A hot wave swept over his body. He'd already felt as if he was on fire from Michel's slow and methodical exploration of his body, but this was... just enflamed his even more.

Michael's mouth might not be accustomed to kissing, but it was expert at this. He sucked with the kind of precision he thought with. Just the right pressure, just the right suction. And, God, such wonderful heat.

As Michael sucked, he hummed to himself. His eyes were closed. When Alex looked down at him--difficult, since he just wanted to close his own eyes and surrender himself to the heat--he could see Michael's lashes fluttering, his eyes moving under the lids.

He was thinking. Hard about something, instead of just going with it.

A warning bell went off in his mind. But before he could say anything, Michael twisted his hand around the base of Alexander's cock, massaging.

Pleasure washed through him again. Alexander closed his eyes again. Releasing the sheets, he lowered his hand to Michael's head. The short hair blended into something not unlike velvet as Alexander rubbed against it. Every bit of this man was a sensual feast, and Alexander intended to allow himself gorge.

Michael let out a low moan. His grip tightened. Mouth slid slower.

Alexander bit his lip as he sank further into the hot, sucking wetness. He arched further into it, carefully, not wanting to go too deeply. Not wanting to cause any discomfort, or rush this. He wanted it to last and to...

His cock slid against the back part of Michael's throat. He lowered his hips, intending to get the sensitive head of his cock back into the hot suction.

Michael, though, followed him. Tried to force Alexander back into his throat again, swallowing around him.

"Michael," Alexander said. He twisted his hips, uncomfortable. "Michael..."

And then Michael made a loud, terrible choking sound.

Fuck.

Alexander pushed Michael off as he coughed and gagged. "You all right?" he asked.

Michael leaned over the side of the bed, coughing harder. He shook his head, fist at his mouth. "I'm fine," he gasped. With a final cough, he sat back up. His cheeks were bright red, eyes wet. "I'm fine. Sorry."

"It's okay." He reached out and stroked Michael's cheek gently. "It's fine. Just... maybe not so deep."

"I'm fine. I just went too fast, that's all." Michael's jaw was set, eyes stubborn.

Alexander frowned. His erection, which had already waned slightly, wilted more. "Michael, I..."

Michael put his hand on Alexander's chest. Gave him a cocky half smile. "Just relax. Let me take care of you." With his free hand, he stroke Alexander back to hardness, keeping eye contact the whole time.

He hesitated, not sure if he could trust Michael not to choke himself. But when Michael lowered his head to Alexander's cock again, the look in his eyes... and his face was so beautifully smug and self-assured, Alexander felt his resolve slip and desire blossom anew.

And then he was in that warm, clever mouth once again. The pressure intense around the head, ever nerve on fire, blood like lava inside. And Michael's tongue pressed against the bottom of his cock while his fingers stroked the juncture of Alexander's leg and hip, another strangely erogenous spot for him.

"Yes," he hissed. He fell back again. Reached for Michael's head again. Let his hips twist and writhe on the sheets.

Michael had both his hands on Alexander's hips, holding him in place. His mouth opened wider. He breathed heavily through his nose a couple times and slid down Alexander's cock once more, swallowing as he went.

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut. Arched his back. He could feel pressure building at the base of his cock and wanted Michael's hand there. Wanted his tongue back at the head, wanted to be brought off soon and...

The head of his cock slipped over the roof of Michael's mouth again. Hit the spongy part in the back. Slide over it. Hit the back of Michael's throat.

Michael swallowed, pulling Alexander down further. He sucked, cheeks hollowing and then...

Convulsed. Gagged. Made that horrible sound again and then flew off the bed, to the floor and threw up.

"Fuck," Alexander heard him whispering. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." The last fuck came out, sounding almost like a sob.

With a sigh, Alexander grabbed his underwear and slipped them on. Carefully, he got out of bed, stepping around the puddle of vomit on the floor and went into the bathroom. There was a stack of towels in the shelve across from the toilet. He got one and tucked it under his arm.

Michael was still on the floor. His head was pressed into the hard wood and he was trembling.

Alexander quickly cleaned up the mess in the towel. He didn't think Michael would mind if he threw the towel away, so he took it into the kitchen and threw it into a trash bag. Then he got a glass of water and some bread and took it back into the bedroom.

Michael was on the bed, legs drawn to his chest. His face was pressed against his knees.

"Here." Alexander sat next to him and pressed their shoulders together. "I brought you some water."

"Thanks." Michael's eyes were bright again, but this time it was more than the after affects of choking. "God. I'm so sorry," he said after he'd taken a drink.

"It could have been worse," Alexander said with a shrug. "You could have thrown up in my lap."

Michael laughed, then shook his head. Wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "I just wanted to, you know. Make it memorable."

"It's definitely a moment I will never forget." He slipped his arm around Michael and lay back.

"Oh, yeah, that's what I was after."

Alexander stroked Michael's neck with his thumb, drawing it down the long tendon on the side. "Look at it this way: we've got a good story to tell."

"Who, exactly, are you planning on telling *that* story to?" Michael looked at him askance.

"I don't know. Friends? Particularly close family?"

"Lovers."

He wanted to say that he wasn't planning on having any other lovers in the future, but it might be too soon. Or maybe he was misreading things in the first place. Whatever was the case, he skirted the truth while honestly answering, "I will never tell this story to a lover."

Michael ducked his head and said softly, "Me neither."

Alexander kissed Michael on the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then just underneath his ear. "So, for future reference," he said, handing Michael a piece of bread, "I'm not all that fond of being deep throated in general. So you don't need to feel like you should."

"You're just saying that because I just made an ass of myself," Michael snorted. He bit into the bread savagely.

"No, I'm not. It's all right, every once in awhile, I suppose. But I like being in the front of someone's mouth. A lot of tongue, a lot of lip. Your hand." Alexander traced Michael's lower lip. "Thank you, though, for the thought."

"You're thanking me for throwing up before you've come. God. You haven't even come once since you got here."

Alexander smiled and shrugged. "Well, no. But I have faith I'll have my chance eventually."

Michael finished the bread and downed the rest of the water. "I can..." he started, climbing on top of Alexander.

"Not right now," he replied, slipping his arms around Michael. He stroked Michael's spine, causing the other man to arch his back, eyes falling shut.

So responsive. So sensitive.

"I'm a little drained," he admitted. He kissed Michael's neck. "I'd rather just rest right now, if that's all right with you."

"Yeah," Michael sighed. His head tilted to the left, baring his neck.

Alexander put his hand around the base of it. Stroked over his Adam's apple, up his collar bone, then back down to the hollow at the base of his throat.

"Do you like to be deep throated?" he asked, watching the way the light played of Michael's skin.

Michael shrugged. Rolled his head to the other side. Sighed as Alexander continued to pet him. "Never had it done to me. My first girlfriend refused. Said it was degrading to women and said she'd never do that to anyone. And the two guys I dated were as inexperienced as me and had no clue how."

"So you've never tried it." Alexander was fascinated with Michael's collarbone. The sharpness of it, the clean lines just above the confusing jumble of his tattoos. He leaned forward and licked the soft indentation where they came together and buried his face in the warm skin.

"No. But I don't really care. I mean, if you think it's degrading..."

He pulled back. "Do you think it's degrading?"

"I don't know," Michael replied with characteristic seriousness. "All I wanted to do was to give you something special. I thought... I thought you might like it."

"Thank you. I'm touched that you'd go to such lengths. But you shouldn't be so concerned about my pleasure that you forget about your own."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I wasn't..."

"Michael, you made yourself throw up."

"I didn't mean to."

"When you started choking the first time, you could have stopped. It would have been fine."

Michael climbed off him. "I'm sorry." He lay down on his side, arm tucked underneath his head, back to Alexander. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

"You didn't." He lay behind Michael and spooned against him.

"I just... I had everything planned out so perfectly in my mind. Had all these ideas about how this was supposed to go."

"And none of them included you throwing up?"

"Shockingly no."

At least he was laughing now.

Michael rolled over in Alexander's arms. Shyly slid one leg between Alexander's and put his arm around his waist. "I've dreamed about this for so long. I wanted it to go so perfectly, and I just feel like a complete moron."

"You're not a moron. And I'd rather it happen the way it did."

"You're kidding."

Alexander smiled. Shook his head and traced Michael's face lovingly. "No, I'm not. I'd take this over any perfect fantasy scenario any day."

"Why?"

"Because, Michael. This way I know that it's finally real."

Fin




+ Next +