Warning - Adult material ahead. It's not much, but it's there. Please don't read if you are below the age of consent in your area. Thank you.

Chapter Six A: Interlude

Michael dragged himself wearily through the front door of his apartment. After a double shift at the Crashdown followed by a midnight rotation at MetaChem, he was absolutely exhausted. Dumping his unopened mail on the coffee table, he stumbled gratefully into his bedroom. Taking quick a moment to shuck the majority of his clothes in a pile, he collapsed bonelessly on top of his bed wearing only his boxer shorts.

Running shaky hands through his hair, he glanced at his alarm clock with a groan. The digital display read 4:15am in harsh red numbers. Less than three hours before he'd have to haul his ass out of bed and start the vicious cycle all over again. Fuck.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to remind himself how nice it was to have the extra cash in the bank. Real life was expensive and, beyond the day-to-day expenses, he was really hoping to have enough saved to pay for community college next fall.

He'd spent his life telling himself that there was more for him out there than Roswell, New Mexico, but when he'd had the chance to find out how much more he'd decided that this was enough: Roswell, hell – Earth, was home. Besides, he couldn't help thinking sardonically, it was good thing he had. Who knew what Tess had awaiting them on the other side of the Granolith?

The downside to deciding to stay on Earth was that it removed his one safety net. His shield against the world had always been that none of this made any difference. Earth wasn't his home. Why should he care if he didn't have a family, or if he didn't get good grades? School was a joke and, like he'd told Liz the other day, it bored the piss out of him. And as for family, well, he'd always assumed that somewhere up there his was waiting for him. Now that he'd changed his mind and decided that the only home he'd ever have was here, all the things he'd written off before suddenly seemed important.

Not even Liz knew how seriously he'd been taking his studies lately, and she had an inside pass to his brain. Unfortunately, one year's worth of effort couldn't make up for a lifetime's worth of apathy. His sole salvation was the fact that his SAT scores had been through the roof. On a whim he'd listened to his guidance counselor's urging and filled out a bunch of forms for grants based on his test scores and even applied to UNM Las Cruces for an art merit scholarship, but he wasn't holding out much hope. If there was one thing that life had taught him, it was that anything he wanted he'd have to get for himself.

Flipping back the covers, he slid between the sheets and tried to get comfortable. Tossing around on his second-hand mattress, he growled unhappily. Stupid bed, it was nowhere near as comfortable as the one in his and Liz's dreamscape. He snorted at himself when he realized what he was thinking. No shit buddy, you mean your metaphysical embodiment of the ideal bed is better than the one you picked up at the Salvation Army? He rolled his eyes at the thought as he turned on his side and tucked his arm under his pillow. Obviously the exhaustion was making him stupid.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that at least tomorrow all he had to worry about was a morning shift at the diner. There was a teacher's conference, so school was out, and Monk had switched him schedules at MetaChem so he could take his wife out for his anniversary last night. He'd be off from the Crash by two, and then the rest of the night was his. Twisting uncomfortably in bed again, he couldn't help appreciate the irony; one of the rare days that he'd have any free time to himself lately and he'd probably spend it making up for his insomnia now.

Flopping on his back, he blinked sightlessly up at the ceiling. He wished Liz was awake. If she were up, at least then he could spend the time wandering around their mental holodeck with her instead of staring at his moldy drop tiles. Reaching out tentatively through the bond, he absorbed the sensations of her slumber with a quiet hiss of pleasure.

She radiated sleepy warmth and relaxation in his subconscious. The ghostly impressions of her soft cotton sheets tickled his skin and, for the first time outside of their dreamscape, he knew what Liz had meant about being practically in the room with him. When he closed his eyes, he could feel her lying in bed next to him. He could hear the soft rasp of her breath next to her ear, smell the warm vanilla of her body lotion. His fingers twitched at the sense memory of the smooth silk of her hair and the fluttering of her breath against his chest the night he'd wrapped his arms round her so they could read Ulysses together.

In her bed on the other side of town, Liz rolled on her side. The movement cuddled his mental approximation of her against him. A low moan tore itself from his throat as she buried her head in her pillow. The action, when mimicked by his unintentionally seductive phantom, felt like her nuzzling the corded muscles of his neck with her lips.

"God," he gasped as his lower body surged in interest. He gripped his hands painfully closed to keep himself from reaching for her, physically or mentally.

His agitation trickling into her slumber, Liz murmured his name. Even unconscious, she could feel him with her. Something was bothering her Michael, and her sleepy brain wanted to make it better. Her mind was telling her he was right there, so she angled her head onto his shoulder and wrapped a consoling arm around his waist. "Michael," she sighed again dreamily as she tangled one of her legs with his and drifted back into deep sleep.

Michael froze when the first syllable fell from her lips, horrified at the thought of her waking up to find him invading her privacy like this. The sexy rasp of her voice in his head as she whispered his name again broke something inside him and he couldn't resist drawing her specter closer as she wrapped herself around him. Synapses fired, nerve endings relaying to his brain a million impulses that all sent the same message to his befuddled senses: Liz Parker was lying in his arms.

He forced his eyes open, the ragged gasps of his breath echoing in his ears. The bed was empty. He was alone, but every cell in his body was screaming that she was with him. That her breasts were nudging his chest with each pull of air into her lungs, that her leg was pressing against the engorged swell of his erection as she snuggled closer. That all he had to do was reach out, and…

He sat up abruptly, breaking the spell and forcing their connection down to first level as quickly as he could without waking her. She grumbled in her sleep as his presence receded but didn't wake. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Michael rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands as he tried to calm his racing pulse.

His body was shaking with adrenaline and the throbbing heat tenting his boxers was beginning to ache. Lurching to his feet, he stumbled awkwardly into his bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face, he hung his head as he considered exactly how near he'd been to taking advantage of Liz.

Raising his head, he contemplated his reflection. "The fuck's wrong with you?" he bit out angrily at himself. Liz was his friend. Just his friend. He wasn't allowed to think of her in any way other than friendly. It didn't matter how well she fit against him or if she smelled like warm sugar cookies. Liz was OFF LIMITS.

Against his will, the reminder of how close he'd come to the promised land caused his member to twitch insistently in the confines of his boxers. He gripped the sink as his body remembered her pressed against him. He could feel her consciousness resting at the edge of their bond and the feathery wisp of her essence called to him. His mouth went dry as his mind tortured him with images of what it would be like to really have Liz in bed with him. Pulse thundering in his ears, he couldn't hold back a moan as he imagined the taste of her skin and the sweet sounds he just knew she'd make beneath his hands. His resolve was weakening and he hated himself for it. Clamping his eyes shut even as he told himself that he shouldn't be doing this, his fingers crept towards his waistband. Clenching his teeth, he surrendered to the inevitable and slowly dragged his boxers down his hips.

Kicking the offending garment away, he turned on the shower and stepped into the hot spray, dragging the curtain shut behind him. It occurred to him briefly that if he were a better man, he would've turned the cold water on. Instead steam curled in the air as each searing drop branded his skin. The liquid danced across his body like fingertips caressing his flesh, racing down his chest toward where his cock jutted out proudly, its hard length pulsing in time with his heartbeats.

Closing his eyes, he gave free reign to his guilty imagination. Conjuring up a vision of Liz beneath the cascading water, her dark hair plastered to her back as she peered seductively over her naked shoulder at him, he groaned. Taking a deep breath, he grasped himself firmly as he imagined his dark haired temptress turning to tease him with the brush of her satin slick skin against his body. The Liz in his mind sank to her knees, unconcerned by the shower pelting her from above as her moist tongue traced him from root to tip. His hand caressed his shaft in long, even strokes, setting a slow, teasing rhythm that his fantasy Liz was happy to follow. Behind his lids, he moaned as he watched her head bob over him, her cherry red lips sliding deliciously up and down the taut skin of his erection. The pace of his strokes increased as the pressure built inside him, his body shaking as he strove towards his release.

"Liz…" he grunted desperately, bucking into his hand as his orgasm broke over him while the woman in his head rode out his explosion of ecstasy and drank him down. The flow of the shower washed the hot splash of his cum away as he sagged against the wall weakly. He blinked as his dream lover evaporated, leaving him alone in the steamy stall. "Oh god," he groaned as his head lolled against his chest, his entire body going limp in the aftermath of his pleasure.

Reaching forward, he turned off the cooling water. Yanking a towel off the rack, he gave it a few cursory swipes across his body before tumbling back into bed. This time, he didn't notice the lumps in the mattress at all.

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Liz's back arched against the mattress as the last waves of bliss rolled through her. The roar of her pulse drowned out the sound of her ragged pants as she struggled to catch her breath. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, still quivering from her delicious dream.

She'd had sex dreams before, but nothing like this! It had seemed so real; she could still feel the hard angles of his body, still taste him on her tongue. Liz shivered as she realized that if real sex was anything like her dream, she didn't think she'd be able to walk for a week afterwards!

She glanced at the clock and groaned at the time. 5:30 in the morning! On her day off! Her heart had finally slowed down, but now her mind was wide awake. There was absolutely no chance of her getting back to sleep at this point.

Collapsing wearily back on her bed, Liz struggled to remember the details of her dream. The whole thing had a warm, hazy sort of feel to it, and she blushed to recall that she had never even saw the face of the man pleasuring her. All that stood out in her mind was the way he'd made her feel: Sexy. Desirable. Seductive. Passionate. Just thinking about it made her tremble.

A little flicker of sensation from Michael's side of the bond caught her attention and she froze in mortification. Oh god! She'd just had a sex dream! What if Michael had felt it?!! Her face flamed as she imagined his response. He would never let her live it down. Taking a deep breath, she consoled herself with the thought that he wouldn't have been able to keep quiet this long if he were awake. She reached hesitantly out through the link toward the man on the other end. Sagging in relief to find him wrapped in a heavy blanket of dreamless sleep, she silently thanked god for the small miracle. The last thing she wanted to deal with was Michael badgering her over the identity of her dream man. She knew he'd either decide it was something worth ribbing her over, or decide it was Max and then get all tetchy. Neither option sounded particularly appealing.

Mentally tamping their connection back down to first level, Liz slid out of bed with a frustrated yawn. Even though she was bone tired, there was no point to lounging around under the covers if she wasn't going to sleep. While she was awake, now was as good a time as any to get a head start on the weekend's homework.

She growled as she dragged out her Calculus text. Good old reliable Liz. Always does what she's supposed to, when she's supposed to. Daddy's little girl. Little Miss Scientist. She wondered if there was anyone who would believe her if she said that she'd rather be making love to her mystery man under a waterfall again than doing the things people expected her to.

Shaking her head at her own folly, she laughed softly. No, probably not. After all, it wasn't like anyone even considered looking at her that way. Even Max hadn't really, and he'd been her boyfriend. Bending her head over her textbook, she pushed her melancholy thoughts away and forced herself to concentrate on Monday's assignment.

In a dark room on the other side of town, Michael rolled over in his sleep and smiled.