otherways - Venice, Italy - 1997 - Michael's apartment

[h2_muses]

As they enter, they step through the same doorway Michael returned to Milliways through, only they walk directly into the kitchen. It's small, but Michael's only one person and rarely home anyway. In front of them is the small balcony off the kitchen where Michael has coffee in the morning and brandy in the afternoon and waves to the nice old lady across the canal - the canal that is just a bit too small for the gondola to travel, so no fear of hearing the gondolier singing at any time during the day. When they turn around, they face the small doorway into the living room which has a couch, a chair, a table and lamp and another table with a radio. There is no television - he's never around to watch it, so there is no need. To the left is a short hallway to the bedroom; the hallway also contains a small linen closet. The bedroom - which they will get to shortly - is also small, there's barely a foot of floor space on either side of the bed and about four or five feet between the end of the bed and the wall, much of that taken up by one of the other two pieces of furniture in the room - a small dresser; the other piece is the small nightstand next to the bed, containing a small lamp, a clock and a book - Beowulf. Stephen can ask if Michael's actually read it. The door to the bathroom (also quite small) is next to the dresser. And just beyond that, on the far wall, is the other small balcony - also overlooking the canal.

Comments

[i-read.livejournal.com]

He makes a sound very like a purr and pulls Michael next to him as they kiss, soft and slow, his tongue sliding along Michael's to flick against his lower lip. One hand lifts to tangle in Michael's hair and the other continues to stroke and he can smell the faint scent of the canals from here and despite not being the most romantic scent in the world, it makes him a little hot under the collar.

Because they're not in Milliways. They're in Venice. Michael's home. His place. Their place.

[i_vanquish_evil]

There's no rush, no hurry, no worries that someone's going to come pounding on the door, needing something neither can give; no concern of psychics listening in on their thoughts - not even of the old lady across the canal watching - and even if she is, maybe she'll learn something.

He's home - with Stephen - and it's the best place in the world to be. Soft strokes from strong hands, warm tongue sliding into and around his mouth, gentle fingers curling in his hair; and he mimics everything on Stephen, loving the slowness, the ease of everything. And he doesn't have to say it again, because he knows Stephen knows, but it's sitting there, in his head, ready for when it is needed - I love you...

[i-read.livejournal.com]

"Love you..." he pulls back from the kiss just far enough to draw breath, just far enough to look at Michael's face for a moment and fall in love all over again, "Fucking hell, I love you."

So few words for Stephen and yet they seem to do the job.

[i_vanquish_evil]

His breathing is heavy, but not labored. He looks right back at Stephen and reaches for a quick, soft kiss before he says, "I love you... more than anything in the world." A breath. "Anything." And he moves for another kiss, because he has to kiss him; can't be here, with him, for too long without kissing him.

[i-read.livejournal.com]

Stephen smiles, a mysterious little smile, and leans on Michael, hand increasing in its speed even as he deepens the kiss.

The other hand...he can't stop touching, can't stop sliding across the skin, tracing every scar and mark and the curve of every muscle. He loves Michael, loves his body, loves everything that has brought this man to him.

[i_vanquish_evil]

One eyebrow quirks up, even through the kiss - wicked little man - but he doesn't stop kissing him; he does, however, tighten his hand ever-so-slightly around Stephen, strokes remaining at the same pace.

Fingernails of his other hand graze, lightly, up and down Stephen's back. He's not worried about anything - at all. He's not thinking about anything except being here with Stephen, in Venice, in his own bed... and it's the happiest he's ever been. "Love you... need you..."

[i-read.livejournal.com]

"How do you need me?"

His eyes are closed gently, a strange sort of peace written across his face even as his lips part.

[i_vanquish_evil]

He watches him. "To protect my soul." A kiss to those parted lips. "To keep my heart." Another kiss - hot, loving, needing, wanting.

[i-read.livejournal.com]

"Shagging come into it anywhere?"

A small smile.

[i_vanquish_evil]

A rock of his hips forward and a long, slow, semi-hard stroke of his hand. "What do you think?"

[i-read.livejournal.com]

He nods and then his head rolls back, slowly, as his lips part again in a panting gasp.

"God, Gabriel..."

[i_vanquish_evil]

"Love you. Want you." He presses his mouth tenderly against those parted lips. "God, do I want you."

[i-read.livejournal.com]

He smirks and gives Michael a look.

"Love, what's all this nonsense about wanting me. I'm right here. You have me. I'd hate to use the engraved invitation comment again, but I'm tempted to, really."

[i_vanquish_evil]

"You are a very strange man and that was not remotely romantic. Not trying to be overly sappy here, but there are other comments that would result in a much better reaction." He kisses the smirk off Stephen's face and pushes him so he's on his back on the bed, rolling over him, laying between his legs, on his chest. He reaches for the small table between the bed and the wall as his other hand slides into Stephen's hair and he rocks his hips against him.

[i-read.livejournal.com]

He smiles back.

"We're in Venice. Any lack of romance in my comments is instantly made up for by the setting. So there."

He leans up for a kiss before hissing at the rock of hips.

"Besides...any reaction from you is sexy."

[i_vanquish_evil]

"Yes, the view is outstanding." He leans down to nibble along Stephen's jaw, down his throat and over his collarbone, while one hand is slick and playing between Stephen's legs - one... two... three fingers inside, smoothly, slowly stroking, stretching. His other hand, still playing in Stephen's hair as he ducks his head to taste a nipple and the expanse of chest between it and the other.

[i-read.livejournal.com]

He can't speak anymore, his eyes rolled back in his head and his hands fisted in the sheets of the bed. With each stroke of Michael's hand, he arches a little more, arches into Michael's touch as small, panting gasps escape between parted lips.

[i_vanquish_evil]

"Touch me..." He nibbles over Stephen's chest, lightly biting and tasting as he shifts himself into place, not quite ready to press in, but getting there. For now, he's working on stimulating many many little nerve endings all over Stephen's body; the hand in his hair travelling down his back, settling at his hip a moment before smoothing over his ass and down his thigh, then back up and over his abs and chest, over his shoulder and down his arm. His other hand still smoothly stroking inside... he's waiting; waiting for that tiny little sound that means Stephen can't wait any longer.

[i-read.livejournal.com]

That little tiny sound at the back of his throat slips out and his muscles shake with it as he slides an arm up on Michael's arm, eyes closed as he moves entirely by touch.

[i_vanquish_evil]

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, then, in one smooth motion, coats himself and pushes in easily. That hand now free, he curls his fingers around Stephen's cock, just holding for the moment. His other hand moves to slide up Stephen's back and fold around his shoulder. And he's kissing him again, deep, long, slow, wet kisses with mummurs of 'I love you' between breaths.