Before We Met

Michael

Daniel hadn't really expected to run into the man with the green eyes a second time, at least, not in every day life. But there he was, on a bar stool two away from him, nursing the tail end of a pint of beer. It had been over a month since he had last imprinted this man, and it took a moment for Daniel to recall what his current situation was. He wasn't the main focus of the experiment he was currently involved in, just what Daniel generally referred to as a supporting character. Husband to a woman who was sleeping with her boss to get ahead. Horrible role to play. Horrible, like everything was, like this whole city was, like everything left in his memory was. And suddenly he wanted desperately to escape it, if even for a few hours, through whatever means he could.

He regarded the man for a long moment, the slipped into the stool beside him. "You look like you could -- use another drink," he said softly. "Perhaps something stronger?"

The man looked over at him, tired and sad, regarding him for a long moment. "You too, friend."

Daniel was a little surprised at the response, but found himself smiling. He motioned the bartender over and ordered two shots of whiskey, which they downed in tandem. "Mmm. That's a little -- better."

The green eyed man gave a soft chuckle, and there was almost a hint of mirth in it. "Yeah, a little. Life's a bitch sometime, isn't it?" He toyed with an empty shot glass. "You here because of a woman too?"

Daniel thought about it, then gave a slow nod. "Close enough. Lets have another." They did, and it burned deliciously all the way down Daniel's throat. "Thank you. It's easier, being -- with someone."

A slow nod. "It is. But better not to drink as strangers. I'm Michael."

Michael. Daniel smiled, even though the name didn't quite seem to fit him. "Daniel."

"What do you do when you're not getting fucked over by women, Daniel?"

"Believe it or not, I am -- a psychiatrist," he replied after a moment. "Though sadly, I cannot seem to -- help myself."

The man who was currently called Michael ordered another drink for each of them, this time a double on the rocks. He sipped it a little more leisurely. "I used to be proud," he said slowly, reflectively, "That my wife was so... motivated, so ambitious. I think it's why I fell in love with her. But in the end...." He shook his head, looking down at his drink, swirling the liquid and ice slowly in the glass. "It seems I just wasn't good enough for her."

Before he could stop himself, he'd reached over and placed his hand on top of Michael's on the bar, lightly, non-threateningly. "That isn't true. She wasn't good enough -- for you."

Green eyes looked up to his, a little bleary with the whiskey. "You're sweet, Daniel," he murmured finally, just as he had that night in the motel, when he was a different person.

They drank, more slowly than before, talking about Michael's wife, about life and sadness and strength and weakness, and it wasn't at all like when he was called Anthony. There was a pain in Michael's eyes that, even though it came from a different source, was so similar to Daniel's own that that it made this talk more healing, more therapeutic than he could have ever imagined. Perhaps it was even better than when he was Anthony.

They talked for a little over an hour before last call was made, before the bar closed and the bartender not so subtly ushered them outside. Daniel was still steady on his feet - steady enough to walk, at least - though his senses were blissfully numbed, fuzzy with the whiskey in his veins.

The man named Michael stopped just outside the bar, leaning up against the side of the building. "Daniel. Psychiatrist. Doctor Daniel? Your medicine has been wonderful. Damn shame the bar had to close."

"Yes," he said softly, with a little wistful smile. "Thank you for your -- company, Michael."

"I have a motel room near here," the man said, and Daniel's heart started beating wildly, though he knew that he couldn't be suggesting what he hoped he was. "And a bottle of Jack's finest. Come talk with me a while longer."

He shouldn't, Daniel knew. But he went anyway.

The bottle wasn't even half gone when Micheal reached over, catching his face with slightly clumsy fingers. "Haven't done this before," he murmured, then leaned in and kissed him.

He was rough, forceful, not like when he was Anthony, but Daniel wanted it so bad that it didn't matter. He still tasted the same under the whiskey, hands felt the same on his body, pulling him to him almost desperately, pulling at his clothes. Daniel managed to keep him away from unbuttoning his shirt, tugging the man's pants open instead, slipping down to his knees and taking his all ready erect cock in his mouth. He felt dull throbs of pain pull at his back, his twisted spine protesting at the position. But this was too good to let something like that stand in the way of it, so he pushed the discomfort to the back of his mind, like he so often did daily. It was worth it, to feel this man's hands tangle in his hair, to hear him groan, feel the head of his cock nudge the back of his throat as he bucked up into his mouth. He fought to control his gag reflex, swallowing him, fingers curled around his hips. Craving the pleasure of satisfying him.

He heard the man groan his name, fingers stroking restlessly over his hair and shoulders, gasping. Hips arching, rocking into his mouth. Then suddenly, pulling him back, away from him.

He looked up at him through his eyelashes, suddenly afraid. This man's imprint wasn't pre-dispositioned to same-sex attraction....

Green eyes returned his gaze, unexpectedly clear despite the alcohol. "Don't want this to be one sided, doc... just don't know how...."

He felt a rush of blood to his cheeks, among other places. "Let me -- show you."

He wound up on this hands and knees, not his favourite position, but the easiest, letting the man curl over his back. Arching up against him, gasping as the man nosed aside the collar of his shirt to nip hungrily at the crook of his neck. "Hardly know you..." the man's voice was husky in his ear. "Why do I feel like I need you so badly?"

Daniel closed his eyes, rocking his hips back against him, trying to encourage him. "You can have whatever -- you want from me. Please..."

It wasn't ideal, with only the cheap hotel lotion for lube, but god he wanted it, needed it so bad. So good to feel him shudder on top of him, slowly rock into him, filling him deliciously, stretching him hot and tight, the discomfort mixed with pleasure crawling up his spine. He rocked back into him with a breathless cry, pushing him deeper, gasping with the increase in sensation. "Yes...!"

It was all instincts, no more words, just hands and mouths and gasps of pleasure, bodies rocking together desperately, reaching for ecstasy. It was the man with the beautiful green eyes, and it didn't matter what his name was anymore, just that he was here, pressed against him, rocking faster into him, crying out in pleasure. Hard and rough and deep, again and again until Daniel could hardly stand it, crying out helplessly under him, shuddering, fingers clenched in the sheets. And then the man's fingers were curled around his erection, stroking him, a little clumsily, but it was everything Daniel needed. He bucked back against him, crying out as the head of his cock once more brushed a trigger deep inside him, sending a shock of white-hot pleasure bursting through him, pulling him over the edge to blissful oblivion, gasping helplessly for breath.

He was aware, somewhere in the corner of his mind, of his lover finding climax deep inside him, crying out against his hair. Pulling away to collapse on the bed, gasping for breath, both coming down slowly from that blissful high.

He looked up, finally, to find Michael watching him, tired and sated, and his lips turned up into a generous smile. "...thanks, Doctor."

He returned the smile softly, shifting slowly so as not to trigger his protesting muscles, stretching out on the bed despite the mess. "Thank you as well. You should get some rest. You will -- feel better in the morning."

The man gave a slow nod, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Daniel stayed alert, doing nothing but watching him for a long time, watching him sleep, watching the way his dark eyelashes played against his pale skin. Beautiful man. He sighed softly, then slipped out of bed, slowly, careful not to disturb him. He could stay until Michael woke up, he knew. Perhaps he would be angry, upon realizing what he'd done with alcohol-lowered inhibitions. Perhaps not. Perhaps they could even have a few days together. But he shouldn't, wouldn't do it.

Bad idea to fall in love with the lab rats. He knew that. But the realization wasn't stopping the emotion from threatening. He had to stay away from this man.

~~TBC~~