MM-Verse: A Familiar Face in a New Case

[luvs_yogurt]

 The Love Hotel was nothing more than a dream from the moment it sent Michael back to his timeline. He woke up in the early morning the day after sleeping off a gunshot graze to the shoulder in a knotted mess of sticky sheets that clearly wasn't only sweat. Whatever it was, it'd been a hell of a wet dream.

Not two days later, he was back on a case. A friend of a friend of Sam's, a pompous ass of a legitimate antiquities dealer, had been the victim of an early morning break-in. The job was interesting in that the damage done in the theft was minimal, the thief clearly skilled, and only a single item was taken: a gaudy jeweled dagger that according to the legend had mystical powers. The ten grand cash up front with another twenty on delivery didn't hurt either.

Thanks to Barry and a couple connections that wished to remain anonymous Michael was able to get a little bit more of the story, and a location. Turns out the item was sought after by some Asian crime boss who'd put word out to operatives worldwide that he'd pay good money for the real deal, at least that was the story among far less reputable antiquities dealers in Miami. The item was supposed to be passed off in a private meeting, and even after exhausting all of his contacts Michael was lucky to find out the location only hours before the arrival time - he had one single email from the buyer to the thief to go on for his cover.

After incapacitating the buyer's representative (in the trunk of Sam's BMW) Michael tried to make himself at home in the obscenely upscale Fontainbleu penthouse in his best suit and tie, slicked his hair back and replaced his shades with square-framed spectacles in an effort to look like the sort of upperclass thug that would be making such a deal. Sam's genuine leather briefcase that had spent the better part of a decade collecting dust completed the image.

It was only a matter of time. The plan was to get the thief comfortable and take the trade as far as they could, if he was willing to take the bait case with only a single layer of twenties on top of printer paper without checking too hard - Sam and Fi were waiting outside to take him down. If not, well... Michael was armed and ready to roll. At the first sound of gunfire, Sam and Fiona would take the real contact and high tail it for a secure location.

Comments

[lighteningcount]

He was so close, so tantalizing close. Zechs whimpered softly.

"I don't know. Maybe Venice? I've been there the past year..." well before coming to the States.

"Maybe you should just shut up and kiss me."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael hadn't been much of anywhere but Miami in the last year, no... it had to have been at least three years - probably more if he couldn't even remember it.

"I don't make a habit of kissing men I don't remember meeting," he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue barely brushing against Zechs'. Instinct pushed him just over the edge.

Still wary and confused, he pressed the slightest bit closer and kissed him; another wave of flashes almost overwhelming his addled brain.

[lighteningcount]

He whimpered at the teasing lick and then lost himself in the kiss.

Too much stimulus. His hands fisted in Michael's suit. It was all he could do to keep himself grounded, to keep himself from getting lost too much.

Where had he met this man? How had he known his name?

[luvs_yogurt]

At the moment, it didn't matter; everything felt right... familiar. He lost track of the deal, of Sam and Fiona waiting downstairs with a very angry European in their trunk.

He felt the grip on his strained wrist slacken and let it roam down Zechs' side - brushing away the fabric to feel the solid muscle underneath. Breaking for a quick breath, he muttered; "I know you. Damn it, I know you..."

[lighteningcount]

"But how?" He whispered to Michael, "How do you know me?" Zechs looked at him and then moved one hand, touching along his jaw and cheek.

The contours, the color of his skin, the feel of the stuble. All of it sparked memories for Zechs. The feel of silk, the brightness of red, flashes of pleasureable pain and moments of passion. They knew each other. But where from? Zechs had been in Venice for so long, living, planning.

His eyebrows wrinkled together as he stared into Michael's eyes. They were so familiar, so known.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Very, very well..." Michael groaned against his open lips, kissing him again - harder and more demanding than before.

His fingers twitched in Zechs' hair, slowly letting up on the tight grasp as he began to gently rock himself against the younger man - his arousal unexpectedly apparent and pressing. In the last few years he'd been a bit of a sexual camel, one ill-gotten romp with Fi or on rare occasion a mark and he was fine for as long as it took until the next opportunity struck.

He shook his head and sent the spectacles tumbling off his face and to the floor before yanking Zechs' shirt free of his pants in the front and finding an expanse of warm skin to touch.

[lighteningcount]

That got a cry from Zechs, one hand tightened in Michael's suit, the other clawing at the floor. It felt like it had been so long since he last had been with someone in this way.

"Michael..." he whispered. The room was too hot, too small, not enough red. Where had that come from? He tugged at the suit the man wore, groaning.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Keep talking," he panted and ground down hard against him again, tugging open the button on Zechs' trousers and forcing them open. It may be quick, but the job was shot to hell one way or another - he may as well give in to the insanity of the moment.

Michael's kisses shifted lower, down the angle of his jaw and to the soft marks at his throat - nipping them gently as his strong hand shifted past the fabric of his pants.

[lighteningcount]

"We'd met before... And that night you almost didn't recognize me. My hair..." His words trailed off into a moan. He pushed his hips up towards that hand, gasping.

That simple act... He saw Michael leaning over him, a predatory smirk on his face.

[luvs_yogurt]

He's still got nothing but feelings, sensations, physical memory... the smell of red wine and the sensation of his body throbbing, aching, and wanting more.

Michael bit down harder, just under his jaw in the familiar spot - sucking at the soft flesh as his nimble fingers brushed against the other man's hardness. Without hesitation, he wrapped his palm around the girth and worked him out of his pants to stroke hard and slow.

[lighteningcount]

Zechs gasped, arching up towards him. The feel of the hand on his aching length, the teeth digging into his neck."Michael!" He whimpered. Normally he demanded he be in charge, but with him, it was okay that he wasn't.

He wanted more. Whether it was to remember more of his time with the man or more of the touches. He didn't know. More, just more. Zechs could still smell the tequila on the man above him. He associated so man sensations with it. Anger, sadness, passion, pain...

What the hell had gone on between the two of them?

[luvs_yogurt]

It was the heaviest question, one that Michael knew should be stopping him. It shouldn't be so easy to take what he wanted.

He moaned against the delicate skin of the younger man's throat, dragging his teeth once more over the flesh.

Fingers tightening even harder around the hard length, Michael began to grind the front of his pants against him as he stroked.

[lighteningcount]

Another cry escaped him as those teeth claimed him, over and over. Zechs knew he should stop this. Get the man off him. But... Something was stopping him, stopping him from ending it.

Was it the shared memories neither of them could remember?

"Michael." He gasped, "Michael."

And... How did he know his name?

[luvs_yogurt]

It had to be the memory, there was something... something a long time ago, maybe?

"Mine..." he broke away, panting. Eager for even more, he let go of Zechs' cock and yanked at his pants. "Over the table... now."

He hadn't felt such a frantic desire in as long as he could remember... he didn't just want to fuck him, he needed to.

[lighteningcount]

Zechs lay there for a moment, mind dazed and foggy. Then there was relief as his trapped cock was freed.

Over the table? Why was that so familiar? Still dazed, he got up and went over like a good boy, like a very good toy. Wait. He was no one's toy...

[luvs_yogurt]

The pattern felt so familiar, watching the younger man obey his order like it was second nature - like they hadn't been at each other's throats not long before. He took down his carefully pressed pants and stepped out of his shoes, it wasn't time for grace - it was time to get what he wanted.

"Good boy..." he sighed, grinning wildly when Zechs braced his hands on the table. He approached from behind quickly and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight. "Such a good boy..." he groaned, kissing just above his collar.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael wasn't necesarily surprised at the remark; only that the younger man had known that he was questioning.

"Open your feet up." He murmured quietly, parting Zechs' stance with a strong swipe of his feet as he pushed in close. One hand braced himself against the table and the other took hold of his hard on and guided the tip against his opening. Raw, unprotected and with a near-stranger no less. Everything about it felt wrong, yet at the same time it was exactly what he wanted. "Mine..." the whisper caught in his throat as he thrust forward; slowly pushing until he had the boy pinned against the solid wood.

[lighteningcount]

Zechs rocked his hips back against Michael with a whimper. He wanted it, now and hard.

"Fuck me Michael, please, fuck me. I can handle it." He breathed. The blonde clawed at the table as he continued to rock back against him, begging silently.

A part of him wanted to be dominated, controlled, used. And that part terrified him slightly, but those fuzzy memories kept reminding him of how good it had felt, of how he had begged and begged for it. Begged for Michael to yank his hair, bite him, take him raw... anything the older man wanted to do. He had practically thrived on it...

[luvs_yogurt]

Still bracing himself, Michael rocked his hips experimentally slow - the tight drag sending a strong wave of pleasure straight through him. It had been far, far too long since he'd let go.

"God you beg well..." he growled, his gentle rock building slowly into full fledged thrusts as he worked Zechs open. Clutching at the younger man's hip with his free hand, he pressed in as close as he could and fully pinned the thief against the heavy table; "I bet you love this..."

[lighteningcount]

"Yes." He gasped out, "I do love this. I love you fucking me wide open..."

Zechs whimpered, pushing back towards Michael. More. He wanted it all. "Don't hold back. I can take the pain."

[luvs_yogurt]

His body shuddered and fingertips clawed at the man's muscular hip as he forced himself to push harder still.

It was amazing, quite possibly the last thing he'd expected to be doing at that exact moment... but definitely the only thing he wanted to be doing. It was like the boy was made to respond to his touch. "I remember..." he moaned loudly against Zechs' ear, not sure how exactly he did - but that he did.

Trying to focus, he kissed his way down the easy slope of Zechs' neck and found the joint at his shoulder - gently biting into the solid flesh.

[lighteningcount]

Those words... Zechs shuddered at the feel of breath against his ear. His major weakness. Treize often teased him for wearing that mask because it covered his ears.

Wait. Treize? Mask?

That was all his mind had time to process before that slow drag of Michael's hips and the bit on his shoulder. He gave a cry and bucked back towards the man.

"Harder!"

[luvs_yogurt]

Harder he could do. With a loud groan, he slammed himself against the younger man's solid body; working to hold himself back as long as he could despite the lingering ache in his loins.

Self control wasn't an easy virtue, but one he prided himself in. "Come for me, Zechs..." He growled against the bruised skin before biting him again, harder than before.

[lighteningcount]

The blonde moaned and rocked his hips back. He was so close. Just one more touch. Anything would set him over the edge now.

"Michael..." he groaned. This was all so familiar. His body knew this dance so well. Especially with this man.