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Michael Pierson
No Day But Today
Sun Aug 27, 2006 12:14
71.33.60.170


Oh, god.

The moment Devon sauntered into the bathroom, Michael slid to the floor, legs too wobbly to reasonably support his weight. Flesh tingled everywhere that Devon had touch—no, he’d caressed. Green-gold eyes closed tightly as the shower roared to life; it was far too easy to imagine the agent standing inside the stall, naked and … naked. Michael shuddered and fought against his own body’s urges.

He wasn’t gay, had never been gay. So why did he feel like peeling off his clothing, joining Devon in the shower and ramming himself so far deeply into the man that they—Icebergs. Think of cold things, of winter’s chill. Of raindrops on roses…

He should his head, viciously tamping down on the well of emotions, and rose to his feet. Suddenly calm fingers attended to his jeans, buttoning up the ones who’d fled from their enclosures at some point during the night. He carefully shied away from exploring that thought too openly, knowing his body was capable of overpowering his mind in this state. Holmes was far more dangerous than he’d ever considered, the actor surmised, hands automatically remaking the bed before fleeing back into the living room.

Michael rescued his shirt, easing it over sensitive flesh and over-sensitized nipples, biting back a moan. He had to get home, as soon as humanly possible, and out from under his fellow drunkard’s presence. What happened the night before had been a mistake, he lied to himself, and would not occur again. Despite this, he found himself in Devon’s kitchen just minutes later, fighting with the coffee maker until it capitulated and began brewing the brown sludge that Americans were so addicted to.

Loafers were found and donned, finally allowing the man an escape route out of this den of sin. Slamming the door behind him, Michael settled down on the edge of the porch and rescued a cigarette from his shirt pocket, the idea of smoking inside never actually occurring to him. The watery light in the sky told him it was barely an hour or so after dawn. Cool air and the absence of noise did much to settle his inner self, time slowly ticking by as he methodically began rebuilding inner walls broke oh-so-casually the night before.

Another’s presence flirted with his senses, growing awareness mingling with the aroma of an expensive aftershave even before the door was yanked open.

“I thought … you’d left.” Devon’s voice even sounded strained to his ears.

“I’m not that much of a bastard. Not this morning, anyway.” Stubbing out the remains of his cancer stick, Michael rose to his feet and turned around to eye the man who very nearly become his lover. Thick hair curled around ears and the nape of his neck, silently taunting the actor to run his fingertips across the flesh and find out if it was still warm from the shower. He didn’t, of course, just moved past the man wearing jeans and little else (and oh! What a quibbling state of desire that left him in), allowing Devon to shut the door against the outside world.

In fact, Michael deliberately sauntered towards the couch like some sort of cougar, sprawling his frame across its length with an unconscious ease. Devon might’ve had the build of a lion, but his friend was no less dangerous in his own skin. It just so happened that the agent was more dangerous this morning, and Michael had to prevent himself a thousand times over from dragging the man to the floor and screwing him senseless. So he studied him through half-lidded eyes until his tongue stopped playing dead.

“If I kiss you again, do I get breakfast?”

God help him, he even fluttered his lashes.




Will I Lose My
Dignity
Will Someone
Care
Will I Wake
Tomorrow
From This
Nightmare


Michael stood in a circle of light, his fellow cast members similarly confined on stage, mouths open as the finale of Rent poured from talented lips. For the last month, he had forced himself to put his attraction to Devon aside, well, except for the few times he’d found himself on the man’s doorstep, craving entrance to his sanctuary like it was some sort of drug. Nothing concentrate had ever been said, but the two men would concentrate on getting smashed while watching horrifically written movies and … well, they’d fall asleep in each others arms.

It shook the actor how dependant he was becoming on that small amount of affection shown, like he was a bloody lap dog or something. But here he was, during the musical’s finale performance, watching the crowd go wild over the Playhouse’s resident celebrities.

There's Only Now
There's Only Here
Give In To Love
Or Live In Fear
No Other Path
No Other Way

No Day But Today
No Day But Today
No Day But Today

No Day But Today



The last notes died away, reminding Michael that he had, officially, completed his first performance in the States that had not involved fleeing personal or professional complications. Clasping hands with those on either side of him, they bowed as one to an eruption of thunderous applause. Michael held no illusions that anyone clapped for him; rather, they screamed and whistled for Sean, Caleb and Lucy, the performance hall’s not-so-secret weapons.

Eventually, all the cahaphony did die down, allowing the cast to actually get offstage and back into their dressing rooms before the well-wishers starting filtering in. Michael had found himself sharing one of them with Sean, who’d been asking subtly veiled questions throughout the course of the play’s run. So far, the darker-haired man had prided himself on fobbing off any explanations regarding his friendship with Devon, though that had been at least one instance of disaster averted.

Little guttersnipe had suggested batting for the home team to his face, and Michael did admit he’d come within seconds of pounding the blonde straight into the floor, but had managed to keep his temper in check. Bastard. David, their resident director, was skipping from room to room with effusive praise, stopping to chat with Sean and … John, his frame taking up most of the doorway.

Brriiiiiiing!

Michael leapt for his cell (a present from his father) and answered absently.

“Pierson.”

You sound like you’ve been singing, brother. Conrad’s voice still managed to convey menace, if a little tinny.

“Do I? How unusual, considering I sing for a living …” His dry tone was lost to the other man.

Still with that hobby. A pity. The third shipment is ready to be sent out, on your word.

Despite himself, Michael grinned. An artist was supposed to take pride in his work. Over the past month and a half, they’d labored over producing forgeries of different national currencies and quietly shipping them off to associates across the united states for distribution. It would only be a matter of time before the feds caught on, but Michael had already turned to other plans and had started forging cheques during his down time.

This third installment would be the last of the notes, French at that. It was Conrad’s little bit of revenge for having been incarcerated there for longer than he would have liked.

“Then you have my word,” Michael intoned, enjoying the jagged laughter on the other end. Despite the fact that his mates were a bit touched, they were the people who’d known him the longest. Well, outside of his family’s inner circle, anyway.

Good. Join me for a drink? There was something … odd sounding in Conrad’s tone, buried deeply under the jovial invitation. It suddenly made Michael extremely wary, for one never discounts the possibility of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Already made plans, mate, you know how we theatre folk are.” Cool and calm as always; the only being on the planet able to shake Michael’s confidence in himself currently not there. “I’ll call you in the morning, alright?”

Of course, brother. Enjoy your …evening. ~Click.~

There was that undercurrent again. Michael closed the phone quietly, a wrinkle marring his brow. Something wasn’t entirely kosher, as the saying went, but damned if he could put his finger on the source of it. Hazel eyes finally swung towards the other occupants of the room, thoughtful expression melding into the patented he was rarely seen without.

“Shall we?”

Rising from his chair, the actor shrugged into his leather coat and followed them out into the hallway. That frisson of awareness hit him seconds before he heard Devon congratulation his brother and sister-in-law on their fine performance, brown eyes lighting up the moment he spotted Michael through the crowd.

“Astonishing. Who let you in here?” Michael teased, moving forward to accept the man’s thump against his shoulder, soldier-style. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink.” He sauntered further down the hall and around the corner, near where some of the backdrops were stored. The minute they were out of sight, Michael allowed himself to be tugged against Devon, the aroused state of both men becoming apparent within seconds.

It was a long time before he felt like using his mouth for anything other than sucking Devon’s lower lip or sliding his tongue against the man’s jawline. “Your place or mine,” he quipped, a little breathless already. No one else to put him in such a state, and for that alone, if nothing else, he had to respect Holmes for it.

Neither of them noticed two pairs of eyes, one belonging to an older British gentleman currently peering around the corner, the other owned by a man, far more dangerous, settled in the shadows at the unlit end of this hallway.

  • Glass DoorsDevon Holmes, Sun Aug 27 00:54
    “So, you mentioned a liquor cabinet? Dare I hope it’s been filled?” Devon had the temerity to snort at Michael’s idiotic question, motioning towards the very well-stocked liquor cabinet hiding in a... more
    • No Day But Today — Michael Pierson, Sun Aug 27 12:14
      • Surprising at MarketHolmes at Large, Sun Aug 27 18:35
        Will I Lose My Dignity Will Someone Care Will I Wake Tomorrow From This Nightmare… Devon had to admit it, while being seated in the center section with a fantastic view of the stage, that Michael... more
        • Reviewing the Situation Pt 1Michael Holmes, Mon Aug 28 00:32
          How about our place… If you want? …stay over but I can't… I can't commit like… Hugh eased his head back around the corner, grateful his son and his son’s … friend hadn’t noticed his attempts at... more
          • Reviewing the Situation Pt 2Michael Pierson, Mon Aug 28 00:33
            Grazing. Wound. Conrad had actually shot his father. It didn’t matter that the bullet had only sped past without leaving any lasting damage, it wouldn’t have … Michael blinked, forcing himself to... more
            • AddendumsDevon Holmes, Tue Aug 29 01:00
              He could do this. No hyperventilating, don’t trip over the curb, and resist the urge to smack Michael on the ass when he walks in front of you like that. Hell, he wasn’t even really staring at the... more
              • EnlighteningCaleb Holmes, Tue Aug 29 13:30
                “The only prints they’re going to lift off of that stuff are mine and those tourists,” Caleb grumbled, staring down at the forged cheques that he had managed to buy off of a few southerners the... more
                • ParadoxHugh / Michael, Tue Aug 29 15:23
                  “He needs a lawyer.” Hugh had entered the residence some minutes behind his furious companion, quiet demeanor a stark contrast to the tall, currently raging man. Gently easing their note away from a... more
                  • NegotiationsHolmes at Large, part deux, Wed Aug 30 21:20
                    “He needs a lawyer.” Caleb frowned at Hugh’s words, and especially the ensuing explanation. It was most assuredly nothing he would have ever expected to hear coming from the life-long actor. Come on, ... more
                    • Plan B from Outer SpaceConrad / Michael, Sun Sep 10 00:31
                      Two weeks. If the Universe was a friendly place, fourteen days would have passed by uneventfully, followed by an arraignment, a trial and a very long incarceration for Devon's almost-lover. However,... more
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