Our Own Destiny:

This story is a piece of fiction pairing Max Evans and Michael
Guerin from the popular WB show, "Roswell". I do not own the show,
or the characters. Twentieth Century Fox Television and Regency Television own the show,
and Melinda Metz the characters. This story will hopefully, become a series. But I will not continue it if
there is no one interested. So please send feedback to: slashjon@hotmail.com.
            And now, on with the show.....

    Michael Guerin crawled into bed, fully dressed, next to his best friend, Max Evans. Max was dressed
in a  pair of loose sweatpants and white socks, his muscled chest bare.  Michael lay his head on Max's shoulder, making sure Max was asleep first.

    He sighed deeply, letting his thoughts run through his head.  He jerked away from Max though, afraid he would absorb Michael's private thoughts.  He knew he loved Max.  He'd known it for awhile now, but he was deeply ashamed of it. He knew it was wrong, and not just morally. He knew he had to forget how he felt, but he could just as easily quit breathing as he could stop loving Max Evans.  He loved everything about him, from his short, dark hair to his honey-colored eyes, to his tan, muscular physique.  He especially loved Max's lips. Those red, full lips, usually holding a serious expression, almost blank. But on the rare occasions he smiled, it made Michael's knees weak.

    He knew he would never have him.  It was not meant to be.  For one thing, they were both male.  For another, it was possible that they were brothers. These feelings were wrong and Michael knew it, but he
still couldn't resist the passion he felt toward Max.  Every time he saw him he wanted to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him.  The attraction was stronger than anything he had ever known, like they were drawn to each other as a cruel joke.

    He rested his sandy hair on Max's tan skin and sighed.  "It will never happen," he whispered softly. "Never..."

    Max awoke with a start.  He had the dream again, the dream that had taunted him for weeks.  The dream filled with passion and desire, tenderness and love, none of which involved Liz Parker.

    No, the dreams were about Michael Guerin, the same boy who was sleeping on his shoulder.  That startled him slightly, mainly because Michael usually slept on the floor.

 He doesn't return my feelings, does he?  Max wondered to himself.

    He quickly dismissed the thought and reached for a t-shirt to put on. He slowly rose to face another day...


    At the Crashdown, Michael couldn't keep his eyes off of Max:  the way he moved, the way he walked, the way his eyes drilled into the deepest corners of your very soul.  Michael had to turn away so as not to be drawn into their spell.  Max's eyes could make someone tell anything, and he couldn't risk that. He could never risk that.  If Max ever knew his true feelings, their friendship would be over, and that would kill him.

    It was then he realized he couldn't live without Max Evans.  He needed him, even if it was just as a friend.


    Max looked at the puzzled expression on his best friend's face.  Michael's sandy hair was disheveled and his forehead wrinkled in apparent confusion or anger. His full lips were pursed as if he was deep in thought, and his eyebrows were scrunched together.

    Even though he was worried, he thought the expression on Michael's face was very cute. Adorable, even, but there had to be a reason for it.

    His thoughts were stopped abruptly by his sister's voice.

     "Max!  Are you still with us?"  she said in her usual nonchalant tone.

    He jerked his head toward her and nodded fervently.  She raised an eyebrow, showing her haughty attitude.  "Care to share with the class, Max?  Because if what you're thinking about is so impor-"

    "It's nothing!" he hissed, interrupting her in mid-sentence.

 She looked greatly offended and gave Michael a stern eye, which made him reluctantly leave.

     Max looked curiously at his blonde sister, but then turned his gaze back to his food.

     "Why didn't you tell me, Max?" she said with mock-hurt.

     "Tell you what?" he answered, with a confused look, trying to find out what Isabel meant.

    She offered a meager smile.  "That you're in love with Michael," she said casually, while Max just sat there, awestruck.

    "I...I'm not...I'm not in love with Michael!"  he stuttered with as much composure as he could muster at the time.

    Isabel flicked a strand of hair from her face and studied him intently. Everything about the way he was acting indicated he was lying, from his trembling lip to his shaking leg.  She arched an eyebrow and lowered her voice to almost a whisper.

    "You might want to keep it down. There are people in here," she said, waving her hand around the room.

 He nodded slowly and started talking.

    "I don't know what to do.  I don't even know if there is something between us!  All I do know is that I am very attracted to him.  He probably doesn't even feel the same way..."  he said sullenly, looking into her hazel eyes forthe first time that night.

    She looked at her brother carefully, examining the change in his features.They no longer looked blank and serious, but tired, and depressed. His eyes were even devoid of their usual sparkle.

    She covered his hand with hers, and looked him straight in the eye. "There is only one thing to do, Max. And I think you know what it is." she responded in a soothing voice.

    By this time, tears were streaming down his face. So, he took a napkin from a dispenser, and wiped his face clean.

    "What?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

She smiled to him, giving his hand a brief squeeze.

"Tell him."

 He sighed deeply, looking into his glass of water.

    "I can't...."

    "Can't What?"

    Max looked up to see Michael smiling down at him. The combination of his voice and his smile caused his already forming arousal to strain against his tight jeans. He tried his best to smile, and lightened his voice. "Nothing, Michael. Don't worry about it."

    Michael looked at him, seeing his red-rimmed eyes and tear-streamed face. He immediately lifted Max's chin with his hand, making his eyes meet his own.

    "What's wrong, Maxwell?"

    Max was shocked by the gesture. Especially the gentleness in his touch and voice. He closed his eyes, and parted his lips, taking a deep breath.

    "I'm fine, Michael."he said lightly, opening his eyes.

    Michael looked at his face, noticing how he closed his eyes and opened them. His heart raced, and his pulse quickened.Could he be interested? he thought to himself. But he dismissed the thought. He knew Max Evans loved Liz Parker, not him. But he tried to appear happy for Max's sake.

    Max noticed that Michael got a sad look on his face, but it immediately went away. His eyes glanced around Crashdown, and he noticed almost everybody had left, including Isabel.

    Michael looked into Max's eyes, trying to read them. To see if it was worth the risk. If he kissed him, it would be the same risk as jumping off a cliff. If he didn't, it woould be the biggest risk of his life.

    He jumped.

    Max felt the soft lips on his, demanding, almost pleading. He stood there in shock, unyielding.

    Michael continued pressing his lips to Max's, his eyes closed. Even after what he felt was an hour, Max's lips stayed closed. He opened his eyes and looked at Max's own, widened, shock-filled eyes.
He made his only visible logical decision.

He ran.

    Max lay down on his bed, and let the tears that had been building up for hours fall. He knew it was his fault. Maybe if he would have kissed back, Michael would be here, in his arms. Now he ruined it for good.

    Michael was gone. Most likely for good. And if he did stay around, Max knew the friendship they had is now over. And for that he sobbed, soaking the pillow with his tears.

    Michael looked out the window into Max's room. He was on his bed, the covers pulled up to his neck. His shoulders were shaking, which Michael could only conclude was because he was crying.

But why?

    Max was the one who didn't kiss back. The one who stood there, wide-eyed and frightened, like a dear caught in the headlights. But Michael was the one who ruined everything. With that simple kiss, he had destroyed a life-long friendship.

    He knew he had to make it right. He had to fix things. And there was only one way to do that.

    He opened the window and quietly walked into the room. There was Max, sobbing loudly with his bare back toward him. He tentatively walked up to him, putting his hand on Max's muscled back. He couldn't help but get aroused by the feeling of the firm skin he was touching.

    Max jerked his head to meet Michael's eyes as he felt the cool hand on his back. He wanted say something, anything, but he couldn't. He just lay there looking into Michael's eyes.

    Michael closely at Max's face, noticing the red-rimmed eyes and his tear-streaked face. He tried to see if the fear and nervousness of earlier was still there. And it wasn't. So he made what possibly could have been his second biggest mistake. he leaned in and kissed him.

    Max felt the lips on his and obediently parted his own, and closed his eyes. he drank in the feeling of ecstaxy the tongue created, exploring his mouth. he wrapped his arms around michael's neck and pulled him close.

    Michael was so dizzy from the kiss that he forgot everything. who he was, who max was. and especially the consequences of his acions. when he finally did go up for air, he removed his shirt, show his slightly less muscled chest. he went to unbutton his jeans, when he felt a hand covering his.

    Max said it in such a husky voice that Michael hardly noticed it. When he did, and he registered what Max had just said, he simply nodded looking slightly hurt.

    Max looked at Michael's face, and immediately regretted the words. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I'm sorry Michael. I'm not ready. Not yet anyway. I don't regret what we just did, but I want us to take things slow. Is that okay?"

    Michael looked up, and his swollen lips formed a smile, and he nodded feverently.

"But can I please sleep in the bed with you tonight?" he replied in his most child-like voice.

    Max smiled and nodded, pulling back the covers. Michael got in, and put his arms around Max, falling into a peaceful sleep.

    As Max drifted off to sleep he couldn't help thinking that everyone had been wrong. aHis destiny was not as leader. And it was not to Tess or even Liz Parker. It was to Michael.

That was his destiny. Now and always.

To be continued?

That is up to you.

Email me with your opinions