Polar Promises (UC,Mi/L,ADULT) [WIP]

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Re: Polar Promises (UC,ADULT) 9-23 update

Post by KiaraAlexisKlay » Thu Sep 23, 2010 2:53 pm

Polar Promises


by Kristin aka KiaraAlexisKlay
Pairing: Polar
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: continuation of 'Breathe', 'Stutter', 'Sight', and 'Sound'.


A sense of loss swamped over me, there in spite of the nearly overwhelming surge of frustration, as liquid chocolate eyes were snapped away from mine.

Scowling and tamping down the primal growl of fury at the loss of prey, moodily I continue to track her progress, only slightly mollified by the tell-tale blush highlighting softly rounded cheeks.

The moment was lost.

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Re: Polar Promises (UC,ADULT) 9-23

Post by KiaraAlexisKlay » Fri Oct 15, 2010 11:15 pm

For Every Action ...
by Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay
Genre: AU, UC
Disclaimer: Roswell is the love child of Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, and a whole orgy-filled panel of producers, networks, and affiliates. Really, for something that is owned by so many people and entities, you'd think they wouldn't mind sharing it with me? :(
Pairing: Michael, Liz
Rating: unsure


Liz focused every ounce of her not-so-insignificant willpower into a deathglare as she stared her opponent down, her brow and the corners of her eyes crinkling in intensity as she concentrated.

A pale, gleaming tongue flicked out to moisten her lips, teeth holding it hostage in the corner of her mouth before it could escape back behind her jaw, and she hummed a tuneless diddy softly to herself.

Every movement her hands, arms, and fingers made were carefully and painfully thought out, and rethought, and only then were enacted with the greatest of care and precision. Her left hand reached out to brace herself as her right came up, gripping her chosen implement in a firm but relaxed grip, and extended forward just so ...


Shrieking loud enough to rouse the Ferryman from his berth across the River Styx, Liz jerked upward, eyes startled wide and her arm swung upward in reflex.

A powerful hand twice as large as her own halted her arm's momentum, long, lean tapered fingers curling about her wrist and lower arm in an implacable grip. A quick squeeze and her bladed instrument fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering to the linoleum floor with a protesting, metallic squawk.

"Careful," the word was snarled down at her, irritation layered among slight amusement.

"'Careful,'" Liz repeated, not quite a statement nor a question - a mix- breathless, as her heart tried to remember how it was supposed to work and her lungs seemed to have decided to exit her body, stage left.

"Pointed objects are hazardous to people's health and should only be used by qualified personnel," Michael tilted his head, smirking down at the petite brunette, enjoying the rattled moue on the normally composed girl, now that the danger of him being sliced open was eliminated.

"And I suppose you are one of those 'qualified' people?" she shot back, bristling as the taller male's words sunk in and she felt the beginnings of offense.


Damn, but Parker could regroup. He'd have to adjust his strategy in the future, he forgot that while it is a terrible thing for the Scientist to actually have time to come up with a plan, it was those plans and words she came up with, reacted to, when something unexpected occurred that you had to look out for.

Liz Parker was usually far more humane in her dealings when she planned things out, but to catch her unawares ... the former general warlord within had to both admire and cringe at the the sheer ruthless creativity of the woman who he still held in one hand.

The old saying about a cornered animal being far more dangerous than a free one must have had Liz Parker in mind when he came up with the phrase.

"Do you mind releasing my arm before my hand falls off from lack of circulation?" the smaller girl quirked an eyebrow at her captured appendage meaningfully.

"Not really."

But he still let her go, easing his grip slowly much to his delight and Liz's frustration. He must have affected her more than he thought if she allowed him to see her vulnerable emotion, and this pleased Michael Guerin to no end.

His smirk widened into a laughing grin as his booted foot came to rest not so casually or innocently on the carving tool she had bent down to retrieve. Michael was not ashamed to admit that a large portion of himself was enjoying the site of Little "Miss Perfect Scientist" Lizzie Parker kneeling before him.

"Mi-chael," Liz growled in a frustrated huff, biting his name into two separate syllables in her aggravation. Her initial fear had given way to irritation and it was quickly darkening the longer the normally stoic and surly alien teen kept baiting her.

"Liz-zee," he mocked, arms folded across his chest, and the asshole actually leaned on the leg trapping her carving tool.

"You are such an asshole!" Liz hissed, molten mollasses eyes darkening to a glowing bronze as her irritation finally peaked into anger.

"So I've been told," Michael agreed, not really caring about the name-calling ... he'd been called worse and this wouldn't be the last time someone had called him by that title. It seemed to be Maria's favorite description of himself, though, and obviously it rubbed off a bit onto Liz being best female friends and all.

"What in the name of all the galaxies, do you want?" Liz rose to her feet, some instinct warning her from staying so exposed kneeling at the taller male's mercy.

Shimmering whiskey eyes deepened to the color of rich bourbon for a moment with some unidentified emotion before lightening back to their more normal shade.

"Heard the Great Pumpkin Nazi had commissioned you for decorations and I was ordered to make sure you didn't chip a nail," Michael snorted his opinion of that.

"Uh-huh," Liz echoed the sentiment with a grunt of her own that was remarkably similar to one of his own repotoire. "And you just listen to orders of any kind since when?"

Knowing they were alone but tilting his head to listen to make sure, Michael shifted his weight and foot enough to flick his open palm about waist high and the bladed implement flew up to his waiting fingers.

"So the Force is with you, oh great Lord of the Sith, have at it."

With a graceful sweep of her arms to encompass the tiny room filled with pumpkins and gourds of all sizes - including the big fat pumpkin she'd been preparing to disect - Liz turned around to leave when she was grabbed for the second time in so many minutes.

"Not so fast," that voice rumbled against her ear, and Liz didn't have time for more than a drawn breath, before she was frog-marched to the side where the table and poor pumpkin awaited.

Liz braced herself with both hands against the table, elbows bending as her back hit the immovable wall that was Michael's chest and promptly tried to ignore the images that crept to her mind. She knew it was futile to hope that the deep blush on her face would go unnocticed, but this was Michael! He noticed everything.

A chuckle from behind sent vibrations from her back to her chest, and Liz swallowed a sudden lump at the new sensation.

"Lord of the Sith, huh, my young apprentice? Your training starts today, and this absolute wreck of carving is never to be seen again," Michael chided sternly, grinning widely since the brunette spitfire couldn't see and he was too close to her body for her to attempt amateur castration.

With a sweep of his left hand, the pitiful markings on the pumpkin vanished, and neither teen had the time to admire or gawk at Michael's newfound control over molecular manipulation, because Michael crowded the girl further, forcing Liz to almost touch the edge of the table and his front to press way too enticingly against her smaller, softer curved behind.

"As my Master, Darth Guerin, commands," Liz rolled her eyes and Michael felt the dark thrill that lit his entire body at the obedience, even feigned as it was.

He quickly reached both arms around the girl before his mind took him down a path he wasn't sure he would be able to handle just yet, and placed the tool handle in her right hand with his own, covering her smaller one with his.

"Of course I am the Master here, my Padawan Learner. Pay attention. You need to feel what this pumpkin wants to show the world, and then ease it out," Michael used his free hand to pick up her left hand, guiding it to touch the rough skin of the overlarge plant melon, tracing the soft contours and discovering the various pits and arches.

"How am I to know that what I feel is what is needing to be released, Master?" Liz asked softly, almost as if in a trance, as her eyes followed the path their joined hands took.

Michael suddenly swallowed and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"You will learn to trust your instincts. There is a primal force that so-called 'civilized' minds ignore because it cannot be boxed, or quantified, or contained in neat, explainable scientific terms and ideals. Because it is so much larger than we ourselves, and will not contained, we ignore it, hoping because we choose not to acknowledge it that it will go away. This force will let you know what needs to be done."

Michael's voice was suddenly hoarse and husky by the end of this speech, and Liz trembled even as she relaxed into the body behind her, closing her eyes and tilting her head against a strong, muscled shoulder. the hearbeat pounding beneath her ear and the rhtymn of his breathing seemed to pulse through her entire being until her own heart and breathing beat and breathed in time with his.

She allowed her hands to be guided, pressure increasing and decreasing as necessary, and then she couldn't help but reopen her eyes as the familiar scent of pumpkin wafted toward her.

Fresh pumpkin had a distinct odd grind-like smell to someone who had always associated it with pies, and the lack of any nutmeg or sugar or baked doughy crust made the alienness of something familiar stand out all the more.

She stared in awe at the image she and Michael had carved into the muted orange skin, the various bulges and dips that occured naturally on the giant fruit popping out as the slicing only seemed to enhance what was already there. Michael let her left hand go and raised his own, a soft white gold light shining briefly as the small ball of glowing luminesence hovered in the air only as long as it took to disappear inside the newly carved pumpkin.

A fanged feline definitely not of the housecat variety seemed to hiss at the pair as if annoyed to have it's hiding place discovered, the slitted eyes seeming to take on a presence, a life of it's own, as it glared back full of defiance.

"Ohmygod," Liz caught her breath and started to tremble.

"We agreed upon 'Master' but that will work, too," Michael nodded and the trance that seemed to have fallen upon Liz seemed to dissipate completely.

"Michael! Liz! Where are you?"

The shout of their mutual Hurricane caused Liz to flinch, and she fumbled around as she tried to move out of intimate confines of his embrace. Dismayed to find she had been so comfortable being so ... caged. Her faced flamed as fled without meeting that hot, knowing stare that was demanding her to meet his gaze, to acknowledge the magic of what had occured.

"Damn," Michael growled, eyes slitting as they traced his quarry's flight and glinting amazingly similar to that of the feline. A soft glow on his right arm revealed a feline form in relief, the lines thicker and more sure as the Family Seal once more faded into obscure safety.

"Damn," he repeated, and with a frustrated growl, waved his hand in anger as he walked away, ignoring the mess of the now orange spattered walls as the room's door clicked shut.




A/N: Don't ask where this came from. I was just wanting some harmless, Halloween-themed fun and ... this ... was the result.

Go figure.

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Re: Polar Promises (UC,ADULT) 10-16-10

Post by KiaraAlexisKlay » Tue Oct 19, 2010 10:01 pm

Polar Promises : Hulk, Smash!
by Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay
Genre: Alternate Universe; Unconventional Couple
Disclaimer: Not mine. Metz, Katims, the WB/CW, etc, own it. I also don't own any pop culture references you might come across in this fic.
Pairing: Unresolved Polar feelings, possibly some Jumper
Rating: Adult.


"... Just getting the lay of the land ...."

Michael seethed as the words his Dupe had spoken earlier echoed in his mind. They were invidious and malicious, just like Maria ... the words kept pounding his skull and his poor brain couldn't stand it anymore.

The more frustrating part was that he really didn't have any reason to be frustrated! If anything, Max oh fearless leader should have been the one getting frustrated, not him! Since when was worrying about King Nothing's ex his problem?

About the time that your Mirror Image on Crack not-so-subtlely insinuated a blatant inneuendo toward one of your own, an amused voice in his head whispered.

"Gah! Now my thoughts are answering themselves!" Michael launched himself off his bed in disgust, running irritable fingers through sweat-damped locks.

He groaned as he tilted his head back, closing his eyes, and resting his fingers interlocked on the back of his neck. A restlessness was winding it's way up his spine from the pit of his stomach, and his fingers were starting to twitch in reaction, the domino effect doing nothing to soothe already frazzled nerves.

"This is nuts."

Scowling darkly, Michael unwound his fingers out of his hair and growling, stalked over to grab a tee-shirt off the haphazard pile of clothing he had tossed onto his dresser to get them off the floor. He didn't pause once but to grab his leather jacket and keys to his motorcycle and then he was out the door.

~ * ~ * ~

Hurtling on asphalt at one hundred and twenty miles an hour, feeling the wind lashing at exposed skin, and sensing the caged power vibrating through the engine on his motorcycle didn't have its usual soothing affect on him tonight.

Michael gnashed his teeth, clacking them together in a tight grimace, as he killed the engine to ghost the last few hundred yards on momentum alone through a familiar alley.

That restless gnawing was raking needlepoint striations along his nerves and with an angry snort, he had settled his bike on its kickstand, and was across the alley and ascending stinging cold rungs before his mind could even compute.

The sight that greeted him boiled his blood and he was in flight almost before one could blink.

"Yo!" Rath howled as he was ripped away from the sweetest poison he'd ever taken, furious at being literally torn from the moment.

"Michael!" Liz's shocked and incredulous appeal only inflamed the burning Michael felt sluicing through his veins and there was only one thought on his mind: SMASH!

There was a flurry of controlled limbs streaking hammered fists toward pliant flesh, creaking leather, and snarled curses as Michael and his punk-ass twin fought and tusseled around balcony. Snapping wood and tearing paper, and the whiplash whoosh of lights being ripped off their strings help create the backdrop to a dischordant symphony.

"Stay away from her," Michael growled, whiskey gold eyes banked with a primal, unmistakably possessive fire.

"She ain't yours to claim, duke," Rath snarled in reply, a trail of blood flowing from his lip where his double-damned dipshit of a so-called brother had ripped his piercing out. He was just thankful he'd gone for the lip instead of the nose ring, then he'd truly have been pissed and no blood relation would have saved Cornball Version 1.1 from having his ass fried.

"She's not yours to claim either!" Michael ground out, keeping his body as a physical barrier between his alternate and the furious ball of hissing feminity trying to peek around his bulk to get to the other teen.

"Well. Well. Well," Rath sneered as he spat a stream of bloodied spittle away. " L'i'l brother got one hand shackled to da harpy and da other on da Main Man's former squeeze. Living dangerously here, bro, your girl know you got da hots for her best girly pal here?"

"This is nuts! Michael, Rath, stop it both of you before you kill yourselves! Rath wasn't doing anything I didn't want him to, and there is nothing going on between Michael and I!" Liz ground out, shock having given way to embarrassment and fear, and more than a little anger at the absolute destruction of her high place sanctuary.

She was taken aback by the twin glares leveled at her, stomach clenching as the leaden ball it formed dropped, and her breath hitched. Two, simmering, bourbon glares took her in, Rath's pierced brow winging upward mockingly with a smirking leer at her word usage, and Michael's derisive snort raising her metaphorical hackles.

"Duke wouldn't get all pissy over nothing, sweetness," Rath informed her with a knowing smirk, eyeing the delicious brunette and his dupe at the same time.

"Not doing anything you didn't want him to?" Michael tilted his head inquisitively, his own brow winging upward but at the same time conveying patent disbelief and a banking fury.

Face flaming on a blush she didn't know why it occured in the first place, Liz raised her chin and addressed the motley pair defiantly.

"Any possessive feelings are not my fault; call me 'naive' and 'cornball', but I would never betray Maria by getting involved with her boyfriend," she glared coldly at Rath, the full weight of her willpower and conviction in that espresso fire.

"And you," her neck snapped her head around to included Michael in that coldly burning sweep, "I am a single, unattached female and I do NOT have to explain myself and my actions and WHO I choose to kiss to every alien male who thinks he has some right to me by association!"

Her hands had balled into small fists, arms rigid in temper, by the end of her little speech, and the wind snapped at the long, dark length of her tresses as if in response to the tempest swirling in those deep, molten depths.

All in all, Rath's bloodlust was still raging, both from the interrupted good time he had been having with little miss "Love you Forever, Liz" and the sinfully decadent pulse-pounding battle that had just taken place.

The sight of the mini force of nature that was Liz Parker taking a stand against two towering male figures had his blood boiling for another, just as primative reason.

However, at her words he couldn't help the dark chuckle that twisted his lips, and eased his body into a more defensive but semi-relaxed stance, still aware of his brother's every move.

"Darlin', what ya just said don't mean shit where it matters."

Against his will, Michael found himself nodding at and agreeing with his rogue doppelganger.

Feminine fury widened her eyes, and Rath continued before the tempest was unleased.

"It doesn't matter because whatever ya feel or rationalize in that purty l'i'l logic driven brain of yours, doesn't amount ta a hill a beans to what someone feels. Duke here can bang his blond babe all he wants and still feel a claim toward ya without being bound by so-called 'civilized' views. I can guarantee that his cock ain't thinking about little details like 'we shouldn't' or 'but I'm with so-and-so' ... we ain't wired that way, Sweets."

Liz's jaw dropped and Michael had the distinct pleasure of seeing Elizabeth Parker stunned into absolute, unthinking speechlessness for the first time. He was just pissed off that he hadn't been the cause of it. Which reminded him ...

"I don't care what is or was or isn't going on here," he gritted out, his shoulders and chest crying out for acknowledgement as he felt the bruising already begin to take place.

"You," he pointed to his errant twin, "have no reason to be here, and you," he pinned Parker with a glare, "need to be more careful about who you allow around you."

"I have had it with hybrid ASSHOLES telling me how to run my life!"

Apparently the shock factor had worn off again, and so had her censoring filter, because he had never in his observations ever heard Liz Parker cuss.

"If you two want to have some Alpha Male, dominant, I can whip it out longer and piss farther than you battle and kill yourselves, then have at it! I am through with thick-skulled penis-driven Neanderthals!"

In a swirl of near-ebony tresses, Liz spun on her heel and marched to the window opening, so ready to be done with the Brooding Bash Brothers.

"Men," she spat as if something vile had crossed her lips, and Michael was not happy at glaring at the retreating girl's backside.

Neither was Rath, apparently, and both men moved at once to each grasp one of the arms that was braced against the sill.

"Where do ya think ya's going, Sugar?" Rath purred, arms barely flexing as he easily pulled her hissing and spluttering figure away from the wall and closer to his own body. She reminded him of one of the kittens he'd found in an alley once back home, even so tiny and little and young and already full of sass and attitude.

"We're not finished here," Michael agreed, tugging her other arm and drawing her against him and as away from the other male as possible. Rath wasn't going for it and simply took a step forward, pinning the still struggling brunetted between them.

"Oh, yes, we are done! Let me go, you two!"

It was futile to jerk on her matched set of unrelenting manacles, but she tried any way.

"I don't think so," the men chorused in stereo, and Liz could have shrieked in anger.

"What do you want?"

"World peace and another taste of ya lips," Rath swooped down and captured those sweet n' spicy lips.

"Epic," he grinned when he pulled back, pleased with the dazed look in Liz's eyes, and the fury in his twin's.

~ * ~ * ~

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