Untouchable (LGBT - SciFi - Romance)

Chapter 24

Alan Stewart flashed his ID outside Banner's hotel room. It was the fifth time he had tried that evening. He didn't know whether Michael was still out or simply ignoring him. He had to see him, talk to him, find out what was going on, and he wasn't leaving until he did.

Suddenly, the door slid open and Michael stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, his body language closed and defensive. He was wearing a long sleeved sky blue shirt, buttoned up to his neck and off-white cotton trousers tucked into the tops of black calf-high boots. Stewart just managed to stop a drop of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth and dripping down his chin.

"Can I come in?"

"Why?" Michael frowned, trying to master his unruly pulse ‒ which had leapt at the sight of Alan, even though he had known it was him behind the door.

"I think we need to talk. There may have been some ... misunderstanding last night."

"What's to misunderstand? You chose Lang, end of story." To his surprise, rather than looking guilty or even apologetic, Alan suddenly smiled widely, looking as if he had just shed several years of worry. He pressed forward, backing Michael into the room.

"Ahh! You see? We do have something to talk about. A misunderstanding. I don't want Robin. I don't love Robin." Alan kept walking until Michael felt the edge of the couch against the back of his knees. Alan stopped about a millimetre away from touching him. "I love you. I want you, Michael."

Michael licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. "But you said‒"

"Robin is just a friend who needs my help, that's all."

The other man was still struggling. "But why did you leave me last night? You didn't want me. I offered ... and you just walked away."

"Can we talk about this more comfortably?" Alan asked, dropping down on the couch and pulling Michael with him. He draped an arm over his shoulders, holding him hard against his side and looked into his eyes. He chose his words carefully, "I know you offered, but ... it seemed to me that you weren't expecting to enjoy it."

Michael dropped his eyes. How embarrassing. He hadn't realised he had given himself away like that.

"I thought we had a deal," Alan continued softly. "You were going to tell me if I did anything you didn't like."

Michael swallowed. What could he say? It was too humiliating. He ducked his head.

Alan dropped a series of light kisses on the back of his neck, trying to find his mouth. "Just tell me. Talk to me, Michael. Anything will be better than thinking you don't love me."

Michael's head jerked up, and his eyes flew to his. "Is that what you thought?"

Alan nodded. "It seemed like you only wanted us to be friends."

The other man sighed. "It's just ... I know you wouldn't hurt me, Alan, but ..." He took another breath. Come on, just say it straight out. "It's just that it really hurt when Tony had sex with me that way. I couldn't sit down properly for days afterwards. I never actually enjoyed it."

Alan stared at him in horrified disbelief. How could anyone have been so rough with him? "Oh god, Michael! It shouldn't have been like that! I wouldn't‒ I wouldn't‒ well anyway, we don't even have to make love that way. There are lots of other things we can do that I absolutely guarantee will not hurt a bit!"

"Are you sure? You wouldn't mind?" Michael stared at him doubtfully. He loved Alan so much, he was willing to try again if he had to. Alan saw the look of grim determination reappear on Michael's face and he jumped in fast. He wanted their first time to be tender and exciting, not something to be endured.

"Believe me, if you're not enjoying it, I wouldn't either. Maybe we could try again sometime in the future, if you wanted to. Like in six months, or a year or so."

Michael finally looked as if he was starting to believe him. Alan could feel him gradually relax against his side. Thank god! He was just about to kiss him when Michael looked up at him provocatively through long lashes, "Lots of other things, hm?"

Alan smiled back. "Oh yeah! I bet I could make you come without taking your clothes off and with my hands tied behind my back." He didn't know where that had come from, but his mind was already leaping ahead with how he could make it work and put the other man in control at the same time.

Michael's eyes widened. "Really?" he sounded rather breathless. "Right now?"

"Oh yeah!" Alan said again, smiling wickedly. "You might have to help a bit though," he added as he put his hands behind him and leant back against the couch. "Kiss me."

Michael felt as if he were dreaming. After the most miserable night he had ever spent, Alan was here, on his couch, telling him that he loved him and now he wanted him to kiss him. Unbelievably, he felt like crying again. How stupid was that? He leant over and kissed Alan quickly, lips parted, waiting for his thrusting tongue.

Except this time, Alan kissed him tenderly, slipping his tongue inside his mouth with slow gentle movements, sweetly filling him. Michael closed his eyes and returned the kiss, his hands caressing Alan through his shirt, feeling the flat nipples already hard. "Take my shirt off," Alan whispered, watching Michael as his fingers struggled with the buttons for a minute. He pulled the shirt open, exposing Alan's chest and tautly muscled stomach. "Now peel it down my arms." Alan leant forward as he spoke and seconds later, his hands were trapped behind his back by the shirt cuffs. Michael suspected Alan could free himself by ripping the shirt if he tried hard enough, but he was surprised at how turned on he felt by the thought of him bound and at his mercy.

Michael was breathing hard as he ran his hands over every inch of bare skin, stroking and caressing. He licked one nipple while his thumb rubbed the other, then kissed his way down his stomach and back up to his mouth leaving a hot wet trail. Now his wasn't the only breath clearly audible in the room. He kissed his mouth again, more forcefully this time. His hand came up to cup Alan's face. After a minute, Alan turned his head a fraction and drew Michael's forefinger into his mouth. He sucked it hard. Michael felt so aroused he thought Alan might win his bet in the next few seconds.

Slowly Alan licked and sucked each finger in turn.

"Touch me," he whispered hoarsely. "Please!"

Michael let his hand hover a centimetre above the front of Alan's trousers. "What was that, again?"

Alan looked at him. The bastard was teasing him. "Touch me, for god's sake!"

Michael reached down and unfastened the front of his trousers. Then he touched Alan's velvet tip with one light forefinger. "Like this?" he asked innocently. He ran his fingertip up and down Alan's length, light as a feather, feeling him swell and harden even further. Alan bucked involuntarily, his hands struggling to free themselves. He moaned. Whose silly idea had this been? It was exquisite torture.

In one powerful motion, he flung himself off the couch, taking Michael with him to the floor. He rolled over so he was half on top of him, pinning him to the ground, and kissed each nipple through his shirt. Then he wriggled lower and sucked him hard, right through the white cotton.

"Alan!" Michael's hands fisted in his hair. "Alan!"

It was morning before he finally let Alan take his shirt off.