The air smelled funny, too. He had lived here long enough now to recognize any small differences in the scent - and tonight there was something girly, like flowers or vanilla or whatever it was those perfumes were supposed to smell like.

Had Topolsky been in here snooping around? Was she really dumb enough to leave such obviousclues? Warily, he rounded the corner into the bedroom, holding his breath.

Halfway through the doorway he stopped cold.

Maria was in his bed.

Holy shit.

He stood motionless, staring at the blonde girl who lay curled up and sleeping peacefully. Maria was only partially underneath the blanket, and she still wore the clothes from earlier today - cutoff jeans and a white t-shirt. What the hell was she doing in his apartment past midnight by herself? And why was he standing and gawking instead of touching her?

Taking the few steps to his bed, Michael sat down on the edge of it and frowned. Should he wake her up? She looked so sweet lying there, almost angelic. His thoughts, on the other hand, were rapidly entering adult territory.

Maria was in his bed.

Somehow his hand had found its way to her leg, and he realized he was stroking her thigh. Her skin was so soft, so fair. Did she burn in the summertime? Irrationally, the thought enraged him. The sun's rays had no right to touch her. No one could touch Maria except him.

As if startled by the sudden violence of his thoughts, her deep green eyes fluttered open. Confused and half-awake, her face scrunched up and she let out a yawn. Her voice was husky with sleep.

"Michael? What - what are you doing?"

He cracked a smile, his hand still resting on her skin. "I live here, DeLuca."

A blush appeared on her cheeks as the blonde girl became fully concious of the situation and sat upright. "Oh yeah. Um, you must be wondering why I'm here, huh?"

"I was a little surprised," he replied mildly.

She bit her lip. "Promise you won't laugh?"

Laugh? No, that wasn't likely. There was, however, the distinct possibility that at any moment he would tackle her and kiss her until she couldn't breathe, let alone explain why she had suddenly decided to act out his late-night jerk off fantasies.

"I promise."

Maria took a deep breath. "See, my mom's out of town for the weekend, and I was all alone in the house, and it was past eleven and I didn't want to wake up Lizzy, but the building was making these wierd squeaky noises and I started thinking, if aliens are real, why not ghosts? And what if there was a burglar, or a murderer, or the FBI? I mean, no one would even be there to hear me scream! And then I thought of your place, so I came here, but you weren't home, so I was going to wait up, but I fell asleep." She was blushing darker now, embarrassed.

Michael's attention was so fixed on Maria's full lips that it took him a moment for him to notice she had finally stopped talking. Unfortunately, his companion took his silence for disapproval.

"Oh my God, are you mad? I mean, I know I sort of let myself in here. Oh jeez, you're probably just trying to go to sleep and here I am taking up your bed and being an idiot because of course there aren't any ghosts and-"

Maria's nervous babbling was abruptly halted by Michael's mouth crashing down on hers. He took the opportunity of her still-parted lips to deepen the kiss, running his tongue along hers. His hands slid up and down her sides, Maria's thin shirt riding up as he explored her heated skin. Then, slowly, he moved away from her face. She let out a faint cry of disappointment as his lips left hers.

"It's OK," he breathed. "I don't mind."

"Oh," was the only response Maria could manage as she tried not to seem too flustered. It wasn't fair that he affected her so much! How was she supposed to hold an intelligent conversation when he wouldn't stop looking at her like he was a starving man and she was delicious?

Not that she minded. Actually, when she had decided to pay Michael a surprise visit, she had kind of been hoping for some make-out action. It was so thrilling, gave her a buzz like nothing else.

She had kissed other guys before. Some had been better than others, but before Michael she had never really understood what all the fuss was about. Now, on the other hand...

Now, she found herself obsessively watching him in the classes they shared, planning how to walk to her next hour so as to increase the chances of passing him in the hallway, and maybe even brushing her hand against his.

Not to mention the fantasizing. Daydreams had reduced her note-taking skills from mediocre to nonexistant, and just this last week, she had woken every morning sweaty and aching with need for something she couldn't fully comprehend.

When he kissed her, she understood.

The rest of the time was just waiting.

Patience is a virtue, but Maria was no saint. And the five seconds that had elapsed since their lips had parted was an eternity. Impulsively, she reached for him again, refusing to let her mind put a stop to what her heart and body desired.

This time, the kiss was even more scorching. Nearly blind with need, she pressed her body along the length of his, glorying in the hardness of his muscles, the prominent bulge pressing into her belly. Michael's strong arms held her up against him as his mouth left hers to suck and nibble on her neck.

Meanwhile, Michael was lost in Maria Deluca, sweet and soft and burning in his embrace. She tasted like salt and tangerines. She felt like heaven.

Maria was in his bed.

This was better than any vision quest, any home planet, any father.

His hands slid underneath her t-shirt, one resting between her shoulder blades, supporting her. She threw her head back, giving him greater access to the column of her neck. Michael's other hand ventured into more dangerous territory, cupping one breast, feeling its weight. She inhaled sharply as his thumb brushed over her hardened nipple.

Grinning into the base of her neck, he kissed her throat and repeated the action. Once again, her reaction was immediate. It wasn't enough. He had to be next to her - skin to skin, no artificial barriers. Grasping the hem of her top, he put his lips to her ear. "Let's get this off."

Breathing heavily, her eyes only half-open, she obligingly unwrapped her arms from around his shoulders and raised them, allowing him to divest her of the t-shirt in one smooth motion. Suddenly deprived of contact with his body, she shivered in the night air.

She needed him to hold her again, but Michael merely looked, his eyes running up and down her exposed body. Maria became painfully aware that she wore only a lacy blue bra that showed more cleavage than it hid and cutoffs that barely reached her thighs. What if he was disgusted by her body, now that he could see it? What if she was too pale, not curvy enough? She resisisted the momentary impulse to re-cover herself.

When she finally looked up from the bed and caught his eyes, her concerns immediately evaporated. He wanted her, she knew it surely. He needed her. The hunger in his gaze was unmistakeable. Once again confident and powerful, Maria gave him a coy smile and unbuttoned her shorts, sliding them down her legs slowly, teasingly, revealing matching panties.

She reached out and shoved Michael gently, pushing him onto his back against the bad. The blonde straddled his hips, her barely-covered bottom resting against his hard bulge. She lowered herself deliberately onto his body, grinding her lower body against his.

Michael's hands cupped her ass as he stopped the motion of her hips, holding her still against him. If she kept on doing that, this would be over far too soon. He pulled her upper body down onto his own, marveling at how well their frames fit together, her smaller body cradled against his larger one. She was perfect.

Maria began the rythm once more, slowly rocking her hips against his. She desperately needed that friction - the hot, tingly feeling deep in her belly was spreading, making her feel sticky and out of breath. Something was building inside of her, and it felt better than anything she had ever imagined.

Michael was being tortured. How the hell was he supposed to hold it together with Maria doing THAT? He was about to come in his pants, and yet he was oddly reluctant to let this progress to its natural conclusion. Somewhere in his lust-addled mind he knew that there were good reasons that this was wrong - that he had no protection, that she was a virgin.

She squirmed a little and brushed her chest against his.

Screw good reasons.

Abruptly, he flipped Maria onto her back and rose from the bed. He began to tear his clothes off faster than he had thought possible. His shoes and socks were the first to go, followed by the thin black shirt.

Maria watched in utter fascination. Her heart was thumping like crazy as she watched his body reveal itself, lean and strong and beautiful. The muscles in his shoulders rippled as he fumbled for his fly. Finally the buttons were undone and his dark jeans were gone too, and he stood before her wearing nothing but his boxers.

Then he pounced.

She found herself holding her breath as Michael undid her bra, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Her breasts spilled free, pale and full, with dusky dark nipples hard. His mouth attacked them and it felt as if every sweep of his tongue created a brand new sensation in her core, melting her from the inside.

Meanwhile, his hands slid down to her panties. She felt distinctly the coolness of his rings against her sensitive skin, the callouses on his fingers. The light blue fabric was soaking as he tore it off of her and discarded it.

At long last, his destination. He traced the slit slowly, experimentally parting her folds and entering her with one finger. Maria gasped and instinctly spread her legs wider for him, her sparkly nails digging into his shoulders. This was what she needed.

Michael inserted another finger, thrusting them back and forth into her. Her eyes were squeezed shut now, and the sight of her pretty face contorted in pleasure dissolved the last of his self-control.

Shoving down his boxers, he pulled his hand out of the way and positioned his cock at her entrance. He glanced up at her face for permission, and at her whispered 'please', began to push himself inside of her.

The tightness and the heat were overwhelming. Her inner walls fit so closely around his hardness, it was as if they were made exclusively for him. It was the most incredibly wonderful thing he'd ever felt.

Maria's feelings were more mixed. The hot pleasure had not abated, but there was pain now too - a sore, ripped feeling deep inside of her. And on top of the physical sensations was a deep sadness that washed over her suddenly. She was different now, changed. Nothing would ever be quite the same again.

Then Michael moved and all of that was forgotten as quickly as it had come over her. The hotness had returned in force, every movement of his body engulfing her in a fresh wave of pleasure. She felt as if her every nerve was exposed to his touch. His body seemed to surround her and she gave in totally, moving on pure instinct.

Her muscles seemed to tighten even more, if that was possible, as he continued to thrust into her. His fingers found her clit once again, and with a shriek Maria exploded. Michael followed soon after, his harsh cry mingling with hers.

They fell asleep like that, tangled together. Maria's face registered only contentment as she finally got the rest she had been deprived.

***************

Waking up alone had never been a hardship. He always slept by himself, with his back to the wall. He slept facing the door and any demons that might enter through it. He slept lightly, in case they did.

Waking up with Maria was different.

She was a deep sleeper. The light was streaming in his windows, illuminating her face, making her hair look like a halo. He touched her throat to feel the pulse, make sure she hadn't been taken away from him in the night.

The blood beat strong against his fingers. She was fine. Healthy, and human, and glowing only in a totally normal way. Then, the panic set in.

They had really done it this time. He had been inside of Maria, all of the way inside. Struck with sudden fear, he pushed away all of the blankets covering her body - and saw bruises.

He had hurt her, physically caused her pain. There was blood on the inside of her thighs, purple bruises there and on her hips. The marks of his hands on her body...

Oh God, how could this have happened? How could he have done this? She had come to him last night for protection and he had made her bleed. He was worse than Hank. Worse than anyone. Why had she let him do this?

Anger surged up at her, for being lovely and willing in his arms.

At himself, for being an no more than an animal and an alien.

At the universe, for letting him taste something he knew he could never keep.

He punched the wall. It didn't help, but the sound woke her up. The sheets rustled as Maria sat up, yawning. He couldn't help turning around to look at her, dismayed to find that the hunger of last night had not abated and he wanted her again just as fiercely.

"Michael?" Her voice wavered. He was sitting next to her on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, and looking like he was about to kill someone. His hands were actually clenched into fists. Not exactly themorning after a girl would hope for.

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "You should go home."

Maria froze. That was all he had to say? The best night of her life and he wanted her to go home?

"Why? You have a hot date on Saturday morning?"

He glared at her. "Your mother will freak out if you're not home, and for some reason I'm not in the mood to be assaulted today."

"Yeah, like she'd drive all over town brandishing a newspaper," she grumbled.

"I'm not taking the chance."

"Look, Michael, what's your real problem here? Because, I mean, you're obviously pissed about something and-"

She broke off as he stood up and left the room. Great. He was being a total jerk again, as usual. Why did she put herself through all of this? How stupid was she?

She sighed. Gathering her clothes from various places on the ground, Maria got dressed, wincing at the soreness between her legs. She felt dirty and achy and awful, and wanted nothing more than to go home, take a shower, crawl into her bed and never leave it. Orgasms, for all of their surprising intensity, were not worth this heartache.

Walking into the main room, she saw Michael sitting on the floor, head in his hands. She hated him, cold alien bastard that he was, and yet the ridiculous urge to comfort him appeared. Instead she just stood and stared until he acknowledged her presence.

"What do you want from me now, Princess?" he growled. "Were the accomodations not up to your royal standards?" Oh God, she couldn't handle this.

"The room was fine. It's the atmosphere you need to work on." She fled from the apartment before he could see the tears spill from her eyes, slamming the door behind her as her body was wracked with sobs.

Michael could hear Maria crying in the hallway. He wanted to yell at her again for tempting him, to shake her until she really looked at him.

He wanted to kiss her tears away. He wanted to touch her skin. He briefly imagined shoving her up against the rough plaster wall and taking her again.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry he had hurt her, sorry he had violated her, sorry he had left a piece of himself deep inside of her that she would never be rid of. He imagined the darkness in him infecting her, rotting her sweetness out from the inside.

He wanted to tell her that she was perfect, that he could never be sorry.

He wanted to leave her lying innocent and asleep in his bed forever.