Woman without a Country

"Oh, a protocol droid," said Mical, pleased to find another pair of hands. "Help me with this, please, I'm having trouble with this inventory module."
The droid looked at him curiously. "Query: You are a crewmember? Statement: Your identity has not been verified by approved personnel."
"You're absolutely right," Mical mused. "Who would you consider approved personnel? You're an HK unit, correct? You're different from the ones I've seen."
Goto floated over. "This is an obsolete HK-47 unit. It served as a template for the more popular HK-50 units."
Despite the fact that it was just a soulless machine, Mical got the impression that the droid was both offended and irritated at being called obsolete.
"Well, so long as it isn't prone to memory corruption and random explosions like the more common ones, I'll be happy. It looks rather reliable, if you ask me. Most of the regular protocol units look rather flimsy."
"Statement: I am a custom unit, and any copies that you have seen were made without permission of the original manufacturer."
"Oh," said Mical, "however did that happen?"
"HK, this organic is a crewmember. You may find him attached to either the pilot or the General. He is to be excluded from activating your distance protocols."
"Observation: A multipurpose organic, most impressive."
"Thank you," said Mical stiffly. "Now that we've cleared that up, would you mind assisting me with this inventory module?"
"Statement: It is my pleasure to serve, officious meatbag."
"What?"
"Don't mind him, Mical. It's a personality quirk," said Goto, and Mical could hear the Exchange overlord holding back a laugh.
Mical growled, but decided to ignore it in favor of actually getting his work done, and led the droid back to the medbay so that he could finish his inventory.
The small utility droid buzzed up, and squeaked at the protocol droid.
"Statement: You are an irritant."
The utility droid beeped again, more demandingly.
"Observation: You are still vulnerable at 3 points in your precious armor."
The utility droid squealed in panic and zipped away.
"What was that all about?"
The protocol droid turned and looked at Mical. His optical units were a very dark red, rather than the calming yellow of the HK-50 series so currently popular, and his outer shell was rust-colored rather than grey, and looked more like armor than the standard plating of a normal protocol droid. "Query: Do I interfere with your social interactions, officious meatbag?"
"My social interactions don't sound like I'm threatening to kill my fellow crewmembers."
"Statement: Your lack of social skills is not my concern."
Mical stared at the droid. "Did you suffer damage to your social matrix? Maybe you should ask the General to take a look at your core."
"Clarification: My core programming is functioning well within my operating parameters. Statement: I was not designed to," the droid actually made a coughing noise, perfectly imitating a Human tone of condescension, "'facilitate the termination of hostilities,' as the more common HK-50 series was apparently programmed to do."
"Were you programmed to be especially obnoxious?"
"Observation: The officious meatbag is more observant than I originally gave him credit for. Query: Is it necessary to reward the officious meatbag with a treat to promote continued development?"
"What?"
"Query: Is that not the proper training protocol for companion animals?"
Mical stared at the droid without speaking, and could hear Goto laughing uncontrollably in the main room, just outside the medbay.
"Query: Is our task complete?"
"You can go. Please."
"Statement: With pleasure. Clarification: Should the officious meatbag need assistance in the future, please hesitate to ask me." The HK unit stalked off.
Mical shook his head, and walked down to the galley. A young Miraluka woman and a young, very scantily clad, red-haired woman were fighting over something on the table.
"Fine, you go get Atton to make more then! Blind bitch!" The red-haired woman dodged quickly, and a plate slammed into the wall where her head would have been, while the Miraluka hugged a pitcher to her chest defensively.
"I hate you!" snarled the Miraluka in her soft voice. "One of these days, I'm going to shove you out the airlock!"
"Excuse me," said Mical carefully.
Both women turned instantly. "What?" they said in unison.
"Who the hell are you?" asked the red-haired woman.
"I'm Mical," he said slowly. "Is everything all right here?"
"The Sith whore stole the last cup of chocolate!"
"The bounty hunter bitch already had three cups!"
"Wait, you're Mical?" said the red-haired woman. "One second, c'mere, Visas."
The Miraluka drained the pitcher quickly before following the red-haired woman into the washroom.
"What the hell?" he heard the red-haired woman exclaim. "You're on the leaderboard already?"
"By the heavens, what?"
The two women, who had been screaming at each other mere moments ago, peeked out of the washroom and stared at Mical.
"You don't look like ten stars," said the red-haired woman. "I'm Mira, by the way." She stepped out of the washroom, and held out her hand. Mical shook it, still completely baffled.
"I am Visas." The Miraluka held out her hand, and Mical shook it also. "You have nice hands," she smiled.
"Good shoulders, too," Mira commented.
"I – er – what is going on?"
"And a very wonderful voice," said Visas softly.
"Nah, I like 'em a little more gravelly. You know, like the Mandalore." Mira took off running, before Visas could throw something at her.
"You bitch!" Visas used the Force to send a plate at Mira, but missed, and ran up the stairs in chase of her.
"I am so confused," said Mical to himself. He walked into the washroom, trying to figure out what the women had meant by the comment about stars.
On the wall of the washroom were two leaderboards. One was labeled 'OG' and had star ratings for Flyboy, Squeaky, Jailbait, Walking Carpet, Preachy, Mandy, Kitty, and The Rambler; with a note underneath that no droids were allowed. Squeaky was the winner on the OG leaderboard, followed by Mandy and Flyboy, who were tied.
Mical stared at the wall, and remembered Kreia's comment that at least he wouldn't write on the walls. Aside from the leaderboards, the wall was covered with graffiti. Hearts with names in them, doodles, Mandalorian songs, battle plans, circuit designs. He stepped closer, to read one of the hearts. It was an elaborately drawn design, perfectly symmetrical, done in permanent marker. The drawing must have taken hours. The heart was labeled, 'Patience and Carth.' Mical stared. "Carth… Onasi? Oh, but it can't be." Mical tilted his head in confusion, and continued to stare at the heart.
"You really do look like a dog when you do that," said the Mandalorian that Mical had met earlier when he had come onboard with Kreia and Atton. "I'm Canderous, I don't think we were doing names before."
Mical shook his hand. "I'm Mical."
"Yeah, I know, the girls said they had run into you down here." Canderous looked at the wall. "Were you checking the board?" Canderous grinned, and stepped past Mical. He took a gold paint pen from the top shelf, and added another star to the column labeled 'Lips.' "That's for Visas."
"Ah."
"You're 'Watchdog.' Don't blame me, Atton made that up. Although, I think he's got a point. And he gave you ten stars, so you can't really complain."
"Of course," said Mical, trying to stay calm. "Who are the others?"
Canderous laughed. "Well, our current winner is the General," he said, pointing to the column labeled 'Boobies,' "and let's be honest, we all know she's gonna win."
"Who is Wow?"
"Heh, that's Kreia. The 'Wise Old Woman' or the 'Wicked Old Witch,' depending on the day."
"Why does Kreia have stars?"
"Because we're all terrified of her," Canderous grinned. "So everyone gives her a courtesy star." He handed the pen to Mical. "You might want to put yours on there."
Mical considered, then walked up and put a star on Kreia's column.
The Mandalorian chuckled again. "And 'Hot Buns' is Atton, in case you were wondering." He pointed to the shelf. "Just be sure to put the pen back when you're done."
Mical looked at the remaining columns. "Which one are you?"
"For some reason, I got slapped with 'Pervert,' which I really don't deserve," said the Mandalorian in the most insincere voice Mical had ever heard.
"Obviously," said Mical dryly, "and if Mira is 'Firecracker,' that leaves the Iridonian to be 'Horny.' Do you people ever do any work on this ship?"
Canderous laughed. "The work gets done. Hey, we can't be heroic and dashing every Standard hour of the day. We need breaks now and then." The Mandalorian left the room, laughing again, and Mical heard him bound up the stairs.
Mical looked at the wall again, and shook his head in disapproval. He moved to put the pen back, then looked around quickly, and added two stars to Atton's column before returning to medbay. He started to walk into the room, and stopped in shock, making a strange noise.
"Oh, hi, Mical!" said Atton cheerily. "Are you okay?"
"What - what are you wearing? And stop touching my things!"
Atton crossed his arms over his bare chest, and looked defiantly at Mical, a pose that was made even more alluring by the fact that he was, as usual, wearing nothing but a length of silk wrapped around his hips. "It's not my fault you put your things with all the medical supplies."
"You're naked!"
"No, he isn't," called out Ludmilla as she walked behind Mical on her way to the galley. "He's got clothes on."
Mical turned to protest, and gasped again when he saw what she was - or rather, wasn't - wearing. "What? Why is everyone on this ship insane?"
Ludmilla burst out laughing, and ran down to pick up her clothes from the laundering unit.
"I think it's something in the air," grinned Atton. "Anyway, did you want some coffee? I'm going to make some food, apparently everyone is starving or something." Atton slipped past Mical, carefully not touching him, and walked down the stairs.
"I don't even - what?" Mical stared at the medbay. "Atton!" Mical growled to himself. He started putting his belongings back where they were belonged, and then with a grim smile, set up a little trap. "Just in case."
"What happened to all your stuff?" asked Ludmilla. She was wearing pants and a tank top now, so that Mical could look at her without blushing.
"Atton. Atton happened. What does he have against me?" said Mical in despair.
"He thinks you're interesting," Ludmilla explained. "He likes you."
Mical looked at her in disbelief. "I don't think that's quite right," he said doubtfully.
Ludmilla grinned, and shook her head. "Weren't you going to talk to him or something? Maybe that will help the two of you understand each other better."
"I don't - " Mical sighed. "I suppose I ought to," he said quietly.
"Mical," said Ludmilla gently. "You need to have a little faith in the Force - and yourself."
"I do," said Mical, "usually." He sighed. "I'll go talk to him."
"I'll be fixing stuff around the ship, if you need me." Ludmilla walked away.
Mical sighed again, and walked down the stairs to find Atton.
"Oh, hello, Mical. Did you need something?"
"I um, I wanted to talk, if you're not busy. Or perhaps I could help you out with the cooking," Mical offered.
"You cook?" Atton smiled.
"Not at all," Mical assured him, "but I'm rather good at manual labor. Just tell me what to do."
Atton shook his head. "I don't really need any help, thanks though."
"Really?" said Mical slowly. "I thought perhaps I could help you chop vegetables and whatnot. Maybe then you wouldn't cut yourself as much as you usually do."
Atton didn't respond for a moment, then laughed gently and continued cooking.
"Or all those little burns you give yourself."
Atton looked at him sharply. "What? Go away, Mical. I don't need any help."
"Atton," Mical began patiently, but Atton turned on him.
"I said get out!" Atton snarled. "Don't bother me. Don't try to fix me. If you don't like what you see, leave it alone."
"I think you misunderstand me," said Mical nervously. "I'm not - I can't not see it, Atton. I can't make myself not care."
Atton glared at him, and didn't speak.
"Don't ask me not to care, Atton, I can't. I - I've already done this wrong, once. I can't - " Mical sat down suddenly, shaking and unable to stand. "I just can't, I'm sorry." He held out his hands, a little helplessly and still worried. "Please, Atton. I just want to help. Do you really want me to leave?" To his surprise and delight, Atton stepped into his arms, leaning against him, wrapped his slender arms around Mical's shoulders. "Oh, M'adouin," he whispered, his lips against Atton's bare chest, "I just want to help you."
Atton bent his head down to Mical's, and kissed his cheek. Mical could feel Atton's long lashes on his skin as Atton closed his eyes. "You are helping me, Mical." Atton's warm lips burned into his skin as Atton kissed him softly, ever so softly.
"Oh, no, no, there will be none of that," said Kreia harshly. "Stop that this instant!"
Atton made an angry noise of frustration. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
"There is no food left, and no chocolate. You were in the middle of cooking. You," she said sharply to Mical, "you at least should have some self-control. Let the boy do his work. It is the one thing he deigns to do aboard the ship."
Atton kissed Mical's hair, then pulled away reluctantly. "Fine, fine. Evil witch," he muttered under his breath.
"And you," snapped Kreia. "Out. Now. You can play with the boy when the food is done. If you need something to do, the storeroom could use some cleaning."
Mical stood, very embarrassed at being caught like a naughty teenager. "I don't think that's necessary. I assure you, Kreia, I can restrain myself when I need to."
"Really?" said Atton, sweetly. He licked some sauce from his fingers. "Hmm... not quite right. I think this needs something." He dripped some more sauce on his hand and licked it off again, trying to decide what was missing, very carefully not looking at Mical while he ran his tongue over his fingers.
Mical inhaled sharply, then turned to Kreia. "Where is this storeroom?"
"Up the stairs, and to the left."
"We can finish talking later," Atton offered. "I'll be fine, Mical. Thank you," smiled Atton, and finished licking the sauce from the tips of his fingers.
"Talking," sneered Kreia.
"Yes," said Mical, slightly dazed. "We can talk later." He started for the stairs.
"Look out for that wall, Mical."
"Oh, yes, of course." Mical shook himself, and smiled gratefully at Atton, then walked up the stairs properly. Mical looked in the storeroom that Kreia had mentioned, and flinched in horror. "What a mess!" He set to, and started cleaning and organizing.
"Wouldn't that be easier if you took off your shirt?" Bao-Dur suggested. He was repairing something on the ceiling tiles.
"Oh, probably," Mical agreed, and pulled off his shirt, folding it neatly before he set it aside. He reached up for another disorganized crate, and from the corner of his eyes, saw a movement. He turned, to see Ludmilla handing a bag of candy to Bao-Dur. "What are you doing?"
Ludmilla grinned wickedly. "What? He earned it."
Mical grumbled under his breath, but decided to ignore it. He could not, however, ignore the cheerful comments from Mira, describing what he looked like to Visas, and doing a point-by-point comparison between him and Canderous.
"Yeah, he's got no scars," Mira confirmed.
"Well, that's boring," said Visas. "Scars give such nice texture."
"Does everyone on this ship specialize in sexual harassment?" Mical growled.
"Oh, I love his accent when he's angry!" purred Mira. She turned to Visas. "Wanna go make out?"
"Okay," Visas agreed, and the two women disappeared.
Bao-Dur stared after them. "I missed something."
"Canderous is apparently very persuasive," Ludmilla explained.
Bao-Dur looked up at the ceiling. "I think that's done for now. Have you seen T3 anywhere?"
"He's dodging HK. Check the engine room or the navicomputer."
Bao-Dur jumped down, and pushed the crates that he had been standing on out of the way.
"Wait," said Ludmilla suspiciously, "you're not going to spy on them, are you?" Bao-Dur grinned, and didn't answer. "Hey!" Ludmilla had a console open, and couldn't leave it, so Bao-Dur got away.
Mical chuckled. "You seem so surprised. I would have thought that kind of behavior was par for the course, here."
Ludmilla laughed, and went back to work.
"It's cold up here. Oh, a shirt!" said Atton joyfully. He took Mical's shirt from the floor and put it on, while Mical tried not to drop a box in surprise. It was too big for him, and he didn't bother closing it in front. Atton laughed, and walked into the medbay. "I'm not touching your things," he called out. "Just getting an icepack. Ooh, what's that up there?"
"I did warn you," Mical muttered under his breath.
"Hey!" There was a clicking noise, and Atton twisted around, trying to get his hands free.
"What are you doing, Atton?" asked Mical, without bothering to look.
"Nothing," said Atton innocently. "Just, you know, hanging around." He leaned back against the shelves, making himself comfortable.
Intrigued, Ludmilla walked over to see. "Oh, my."
Atton, his hands locked in a pair of silvery restraints attached to the shelves above his head, was just standing casually, as if this was a perfectly natural position for him to be in. In Mical's white shirt, and the black silk around his hips, with his hands above his head, he looked more than ever like one of the classical statues that decorated the palaces and museums of Corellia.
"Hello," said Atton cheerfully. "There's coffee and snacks in the galley, if you're hungry." Atton grinned.
Ludmilla stared for a few more moments. "Think he'll still be where I get back?"
"He will be if he knows what's good for him," said Mical calmly.
"Because I am really hungry," Ludmilla grinned. She stepped forward, and gave Atton a long, slow kiss. "I really need to try that sometime," she grinned, and looked up at the restraints.
"Ask Mical, he seems to know a lot about this sort of thing."
"I'd rather have him demonstrate," said Ludmilla. She kissed Atton again, then ran downstairs, laughing.
"Soo...Mical. How long do you plan to leave me here?"
"Until I'm done working."
"I only ask because – "
Canderous walked out of the room that he shared with Visas, and nodded to Mical. He looked casually over at the medbay, and walked into the wall. "Ow!" Canderous knelt down, covering his nose and trying not to think about what he had just seen.
"I only ask, because it's slightly hazardous." Atton smiled.
Mical just shook his head. "Are you all right, Canderous?"
"Yeah, fine, just…." He forced himself to stand up and not look at the medbay again.
"What is all this noise?" Kreia demanded. "Oh, my." She looked at Atton, then at Mical. "Is this your doing?"
Mical nodded.
"You missed one of the mainframe cables, by the way," said Kreia calmly. "It's on the floor, there." She pointed.
Mical blinked. He had expected her to tell him to let Atton go. Mical shrugged, and picked up the cable that he had missed. "Thank you." He put the cable away with the others that he had placed neatly on the shelves.
"You don't happen to have a gag somewhere in your belongings, do you?" said Kreia hopefully.
"No, I'm afraid I don't."
Canderous made a choked noise.
"What is wrong with you?" snapped Kreia.
"All the blood is rushing to his head," said Atton helpfully.
"Can you make a gag?" asked Kreia.
Mical grinned. "Probably, but I would prefer to find a different method to keep him quiet."
Canderous turned and walked back to his room. He stuck his head around the corner again, "You don't happen to have a spare pair of cuffs, do you?"
"No."
"Damn," Canderous disappeared.
"Did you make some food, boy?"
Atton nodded.
"Good, I'm starving." Kreia gracefully swept away and went down to the galley.
Atton hummed a little tune and watched Mical work.
"Are you comfortable?" asked Mical gently.
"Oh, I'm fine," Atton assured him. "Just a bit bored. Kissing would make this a lot more fun," he said hopefully.
"I'm not done working yet," Mical smiled.
"You're almost done," said Atton sweetly. "And I'm very bored." Atton laid his head against his arm, and swung a little on his hands, watching Mical. "Bored," he repeated, in a soft little singsong.
"Atton."
"You ever have that nightmare where your clothes all fall off for no reason?" he asked innocently.
"I suppose I could finish this later." Mical stood up and dusted off his hands. He walked over to medbay, and removed the cuffs from the hook he had set up earlier.
"So," grinned Atton, "are you going to unlock those now?"
"Not just yet," said Mical gently, and lifted Atton, so that he could carry him away.
"Oh. Well." Atton settled into his arms in comfortable surprise. "Okay."
"You seem remarkably well-adjusted to being handled in this fashion."
Atton looked at him in surprise. "What? I like being lazy. I'm really good at it," he grinned.
"So you are," Mical laughed, and walked into the cargo hold. Ludmilla had already added a little more space, as she had mentioned earlier, and even more pillows. He closed the door, and was going to set Atton down on the bed, but Atton moved first, putting his arms over Mical's head with a playful grin.
Before Mical could speak, Atton moved closer, and caught him in a fiery kiss. He pulled Mical closer, leaning on him, depending on the older man's strength.
"No, M'adouin, not yet," Mical tried to say, but Atton kept kissing him.
"No talking," Atton pleaded, "nothing good ever comes from talking." He kissed Mical again, skin against skin, warm and willing. "Can't we just make out?"
"M'adouin," Mical whispered, holding Atton still so that he could whisper gently into Atton's ear, "I want to make love to you. I want to hear you screaming my name. I want to feel you underneath me."
Atton shivered, but didn't speak, or pull away from Mical. He closed his eyes, and Mical could feel his breath, warm on his face, quick and uneven.
"M'adouin?"
"Why do you like me? Shouldn't you hate me? You know who I am."
Mical sighed. "Not exactly. I know who they say you are, but… that doesn't really tell me anything, does it?"
Atton looked at him strangely.
"I would rather," said Mical nervously, "that you told me who you are."
Atton continued to stare at him.
"I could tell you who I am," Mical offered, still nervous and unsure, and very distracted by the way Atton was clinging to him. "Well, not my name – I don't actually have one besides Mical. I wasn't just brought to the Jedi, I was abandoned," he said softly. "I tried very hard to be grateful, but it wasn't always easy. Especially after Master Sîvoš – Ludmilla – left for the wars, and everything that happened after."
"So where did you learn to kiss the way you do?" asked Atton, trying to keep the tone light.
Mical smiled. "Well, here and there. I – I've always liked um – people who look a bit like you. You know what they say, opposites attract," he said, unsure how Atton would react.
Atton merely smiled, and waited for him to continue.
"I don't think there is anything else significant thing about me, besides the part where I'm a very unglamorous spy. I've had a few relationships, but they all ended quite calmly."
"You're still friends with them all, aren't you?"
"Well, yes," said Mical, slightly embarrassed. "I'm not usually passionate about anything."
Atton looked at him curiously.
"Not like this," said Mical softly. "I have no idea what to do."
"I could make some suggestions," Atton said with a little smile. "They all start with kissing, by the way," he smiled as he kissed him again.
"M'adouin," Mical whispered softly. "I can't stop thinking about you, and worrying about you. But I don't know what to say," he said, unable to believe how anxious he was. "I don't want to upset you."
"What do you want to hear, Mical? Do you want me to tell you all about the Incubus?"
Mical shook his head. "That's not what bothers me so much." He swallowed, nervously, and ran his hands along the underside of the slender arms around his neck, feeling the taut muscles beneath the almost flawless skin, marred only by a series of pale white scars and half-healed burns. "But I don't know what to say."
Atton looked away, and smiled strangely. The cuffs fell to the floor behind Mical, and Atton walked away to sit down on the bed.
"I did it wrong, didn't I?" said Mical miserably. "Oh, M'adouin, I'm so sorry."
Atton looked at him again. "When I was a kid," he said suddenly, "I used to have an imaginary friend. He looked and sounded a lot like you do. I used to tell him everything." Atton lay down on the bed, and put his hands behind his head. "He never lied to me." Atton looked over at Mical, his eyes strangely bright. "You're the first person in years to bring it up."
"How could anyone not notice?" asked Mical fiercely.
Atton smiled, a slightly twisted and dark smile. "I'm very good at hiding. How did you notice?" he asked curiously.
"You kept taking bandages from my bag, and the medbay," Mical explained. "And you would hide your arms all the time. And a hundred other little things. How – how does she not see the scars?"
"Oh, she's seen them," Atton grinned darkly. "She just hasn't realized that I'm doing it to myself. She thinks they're old." Atton started to move his arm so that he could look at himself, but stopped.
"Would – would you like to tell me about it?" asked Mical uncertainly.
Atton shrugged. "Do you want to listen?"
Mical nodded.
"Well, I don't. It's not that I don't trust you – or her – I just don't want to think about it," Atton explained. "Come here."
Mical moved closer to the bed, and gingerly sat down on the edge, looking at Atton.
"Why are you making this so difficult?" Atton laughed. He reached up and pulled Mical down to him, drawing his leg up to twine it around Mical's. He put his arms around Mical's neck, and let Mical settle on top of him. "I hope you're comfortable," Atton grinned. "I know I am." He slid one hand in Mical's hair, and let the other explore Mical's arm and shoulder.
"Oh, M'adouin," Mical whispered hoarsely. "I've wanted this since the first moment I saw you," he slowly moved his hips over Atton's, kissed the delicate curves of Atton's face.
"In the library?" said Atton in surprise. "You didn't even notice me."
"The first time I saw you, M'adouin, was in a bar. I pulled a drunken brute off you. I got a kiss and a broken arm for my pains, and a severe reprimand for letting you get away. You thanked me, then told me to stop meddling before you kissed me and walked off. I couldn't believe it when I found out who you were. I'm still not quite sure," he murmured softly.
Atton sat up a little, and looked at Mical. "When was this?"
"Quite a few years ago. I didn't say anything to you," Mical explained. "I'm not surprised you don’t recognize me. I had blood all over my face, and it wasn't the sort of place where you would expect to find me."
Atton blushed slightly at the memory. "That doesn't count," he protested. "That was ages ago, and it was just a few minutes."
"It counted to me."
"That's just crazy, you can't – you don't – why do you even remember something so stupid?"
"Because you were – are – the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I saw you walk in, and I couldn't believe that you were real, not even when you started talking to that brute."
"Wait – he was a Jedi. Were you supposed to be protecting him?" asked Atton with amusement.
Mical nodded, somewhat ashamed to remember how he had failed that assignment, and why.
"But instead, you protected me," said Atton softly. He kissed Mical's shoulder, trying not to think.
"You needed it more. You still do, M'adouin," said Mical gently.
"So, if we're done talking, can we make out now?" asked Atton shyly. He tilted his head up to look at Mical, his dark eyes shining.
"If you like," Mical bent his head down to him, and kissed him again. "I was rather hoping to do a little more," he said suggestively, and let his hand find its way up Atton's thigh, beneath the silk. Atton moaned into the kiss, and Mical's hand explored farther. "I want you so badly," Mical groaned.
Atton laughed, and Mical was surprised at how sweet and innocent he sounded, considering his current position.
"Are you laughing at me, M'adouin?"
"At the world," Atton whispered softly. "What kind of world is it where angels fuck and devils kiss?"
Mical laughed, a little nervously. "Of course, if you don't want to, M'adouin, I won't force you."
Atton laughed again, joyous and sweet, and moved his legs, opening himself to Mical. "I think you've waited patiently long enough," he said softly, and gasped as Mical's fingers, slick and wet, slid into him. "I want to. I want you. But you're going to make me pass out again," he grinned, "and then I'll miss half the kissing."
"I'll make it up to you," Mical promised, and kissed Atton again. He gently moved his fingers inside Atton, listened to Atton's soft breathing, quiet gasps, sighs of pleasure. He added another finger, and Atton cried out. Mical could feel him shudder, saw his hands clutch at the sheets. "Are you - having an orgasm? Just from that?" He could feel the answer to his question in the heat and the wild pulses of Atton's body around his fingers. "You're not even hard," he whispered in amazement. "Do you do that all the time?"
Atton gasped, and clutched wildly at Mical. "No, it's just you, I've never - " was all he managed to say before the sensations coming from Mical's touch set him off again. He lay back, panting desperately. "I don't know what you're doing differently," he whimpered, "but I can't - oh, don't stop, don't!" He cried out again, almost a shriek this time, as Mical drew his fingers out of Atton's body.
Mical smiled, and gently kissed him, letting Atton breathe.
"You know, if I had known you could make me come like that two times in a row, I would never have gotten out of bed the first time." Atton laughed shakily, and took a few deep breaths, trying to recover.
Mical kissed him gently. "I didn't know either," he smiled. "I think it's more that you fit me perfectly," he suggested, gently stroking his thumb around the outer rim, making Atton shiver. "Like you were made for my hands to touch."
Atton smiled strangely, turned his head away for a second, took another deep breath, without answering. He stretched, and arched into Mical's caress with a soft moan, as Mical leaned over him, gently kissing Atton's face, while he moved himself even closer over Atton's body.
"You're very flexible," Mical smiled, as he moved Atton's legs up and away, exposing Atton's soft, welcoming center. He kissed him again, drinking in the softness and sweetness of Atton's lips. "So very, very beautiful." Surprised and pleased, he felt Atton's lips curve in a smile at his words, and Atton kissed him again, pulled him closer for a deep kiss. Suddenly, Atton gasped, his fingers tangled in Mical's hair, and Mical felt the lithe body beneath him submit to his penetration. Mical groaned in wild pleasure at the heat, the tightness.
Atton arched into the thrust, and moved his hands, bracing himself against the wall. Mical moved again, and Atton choked back a wild scream. He moved again, covering his mouth with one hand.
"Oh, no, M'adouin," Mical whispered passionately, "I want to hear you." He moved Atton's hand away, and gently held down both of Atton's slender wrists with his hand. "Let me hear you, M'adouin." He kissed Atton's beautiful face again, savoring the increasingly wild noises coming from the younger man in response to his movements. Mical used his other hand to lift Atton's hips a little closer to him, so that he could penetrate even deeper, and drove his entire length into Atton's body.
Beneath him, he felt Atton shake suddenly, a soft sweet wetness between their bodies, and Atton screamed again, his entire body arched back, his beautiful dark head tossed from side to side, and then Mical felt his own release, filling Atton, under the influence of the soft heat gripping him so tightly that Mical thought he might pass out himself.
Mical forced himself to stay still while Atton collapsed into the bed, and slowly pulled away, panting and weak, almost shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He couldn't take his eyes from Atton's face, unbelievably sweet in sated repose. Mical kissed him again, uncaring that he was approaching idolatry in his passion for Atton, and lay down next to him, pulling the beautiful man into his arms so that Atton would be the first thing he would see when he opened his eyes.