Disclaimer: In my dreams, Max is *mine*! But, sadly, in reality I don't own a thing.
Description: Liz isn't the only one to keep a journal ...
Author's Note: This is UC, I swear it. Just get past the Dreamer beginning and you'll see what I mean. *g* And thank you, Bennie, for your feedback.
Feedback: Yes please! This is a bit on the outrageous side, I know, so let me know, honestly, what you think.
I'm Liz Parker, and I just got off my shift at the Crashdown. God I'm glad the business is doing so well and all, but why do so many people decide they suddenly can't cook their own breakfast on a Saturday? It was so mobbed. But at least I had a good start to my day Max came by early, just as we were opening. He didn't stay long, just got some muffins and other things to take back to his family. But we got to talk a bit while things were still quiet. We even slipped back to the employees' room for a few minutes for some privacy. And he kissed me or I kissed him. Whatever. I'm so glad things are going well between us again. I mean, I know it'll take time, but I'm happy with how things are. And the hug he gave me before he left was just amazing. Made me feel good enough that dealing with all the crabby customers didn't seem so bad
Entry # 69
Man, I wish that my dad's woodworking obsession extended into building an addition on our house. I want my own room again, none of this sleeping-on-the-sofa crap. The springs are killing my back
Anyway, Evans came over as usual for our early-morning workout. He brought breakfast this time, too nice touch. We left the muffins in the kitchen and went out for our jog to the edge of the woods this time. Not too far away. Nice and secluded. We sat down on the blanket he'd tucked away earlier, and I showed him some of the meditation skills I'd learned. And then, with our energies in tune, we were able to get to the rest of our "workout". Man Evans always looks pretty hot, but today he was just so damn hot that I thought I would cream in my shorts before we had a chance to get anywhere. The chest and the abs and the dick. God. Are all aliens this well-endowed? Somehow I don't think I'll ever get the chance to check out Michael and compare, but it might be interesting to suggest. Maybe next time. But just the two of us -- hot, naked, and sweaty -- was pretty damn fine this time, too. We even managed to get back to the house before anyone else got up.
I love Saturdays. Those early morning sessions with alien-boy are enough to make up for the fact that I had to spend the rest of the day doing homework before my real wrestling match out in Dexter. Pity Evans isn't on the team I could use more practice at pinning him .
God, I love Saturdays. I'm just so not a morning person, so it's nice to have a day to just relax, you know? I don't know how Max manages to be so active so early in the day. I mean, I was just getting up, and there he was already coming back from his jog. But it's definitely worth being awake to see him damp and shirtless he had stripped the T-shirt off as soon as he'd walked in the door. Such a stud. What cruel fate of adoption decided we were supposed to be siblings, anyway? It makes things so difficult. Well, Max solved that problem by giving me the *look* that we've somehow created over the years. He just *looked* at me as he headed off to the shower, tossing a casual "You coming?" over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bathroom. Mom was still asleep and Dad was out, so I grabbed the opportunity.
Usually, I like my private shower time. There's so much going on that it's nice to have that one, calm, flower-scented moment in my day that's all to myself. But it's worth making the exception to shower with Max. I love sliding my lathered hands over his body, his chest, his back, his legs. And the things he does to me. God, I could hardly stand up as he played with my breasts, and when he slid his fingers between my legs I had to keep from screaming aloud and waking up Mom. Too bad our water heater doesn't keep a very large reservoir of hot water or we might have been able to do more, but I suppose it's just as well we didn't. Mom got up shortly after we dried off and dressed.
It's always funny to sit across from Max at the kitchen table, eating brunch as if everything's "normal", as if he hadn't just been making me come, mere minutes beforehand Too bad he had to run off right after we ate I wanted to return the favor. Maybe later.
Journal entry for March 24, 2001
My dad will have no idea how much I appreciate this computer he got me. I mean, yeah, it's useful for doing my homework, and exposing evil FBI agents and all, but it's also provided an excuse to get some lovin', too. I don't think I'll tell him that, though.
So, anyway, Max came over for his usual HTML lesson around noon. That's the excuse we use, anyway, and I *have* started to show him some basics. Not sure what he plans to do with the information put up an alien webpage? Well, anyway, like I said, that's the excuse to get him over here, but, as usual, we didn't get much further than my demonstrating a few tags and techniques before he leaned over me and started *distracting* me as I typed. Or tried to type. Trying to program while there's an incredibly sexy person sucking on your neck and running his hands under your shirt is no easy task, I'll tell you that. It doesn't take us long before we move to my bed for more serious necking. We don't take it too far I'm not sure he's ready for that. He's got enough crap going on in his life, so I don't want to add to it by pushing him. What we do seems to suit his quiet nature better, anyway.
Normally Max will stay for a couple of hours, and we sometimes even get a little further with our HTML lessons after we've, ahem, had our fun. But in today's case our postlude programming was interrupted when he got a call on his cell phone from Valenti. Must've been serious because Max rushed off to see him. I hope it's nothing serious.
From the desk of J.Valenti
I love my job, I really do. But if it weren't for the aliens in this town, things would get pretty dull. There's just not a lot of crime in Roswell. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Still, it's been a while since things were *really* quiet here, and I'd been getting kind of antsy. Needed to remedy the situation ASAP. So when the opportunity presented itself today all the detention cells were empty and nothing else was going on -- I took it. Sent my deputy home, with assurances that I'd call him if something came up. Nice kid, Deputy Hansen, but a little over-enthusiastic sometimes.
Then I called Max Evans and gave him the all-clear. We'd worked out the signal a long time ago, so as not to get things confused with any real emergencies. He's a good guy, Max is -- he came right over just as I'd asked. The minute he walked in, I pressed him up against the wall, handcuffed him, and frisked him. Told him he'd been bad, that I'd have to detain him until something could be worked out. Then I hustled him down to the detention cell and, uncuffing him, clapped him in. He always pretends not to be able to bust out of there with a touch of his hand, and I pretend to not see the way he licks his lips in anticipation of what's to come as I walk away.
Max knows the routine now. The minute I returned and entered his cell, he's got me up against the wall, undoing the buckle on my uniform, and in seconds he's giving me the best damn blowjob I've ever had. I should write a letter to whoever designed the aliens and thank them for bestowing that mouth on Max. This is why I risk my job, my reputation and his. For this. I should turn in my badge right now, but it feels so damn good. And Max has made it clear that he gets off just as much as I do. He's even approached me a time or two. But today, after we finished up, he just thanked me and moved on. Said something about helping Maria with pie. Maybe I can get him to bring me one of Amy's pies the next time. Pie and Max. I think that would be enough for me to die a happy man.
Yadda yaddah Dear Diary, blah blah blah and all that crap
Mom was working at her store today, so I said I'd help her out by putting the finishing whipped topping on her pies and get them boxed up for her to deliver later. Not the most fun job in the world, but it's better than doing that stupid Social Studies assignment we have. And besides, Max said he'd come by and help out.
Well, I was kind of pissed at first because he was about half an hour late. But he apologized for being detained. With a kiss. (You can't see it, but I've got this crazy grin on my face right now ) I don't really know what we are. Friends? Definitely. More than friends? I don't know. Maybe I should dig out my Tarot deck and see if I get a better answer. Fine. I'll just put it this way we're friends who kiss. A lot. God, he's a good kisser. Even better than Michael. Haven't seen any flashes or anything, but I had to sniff some lavender essence after he left today to calm myself down. It's not just the kissing at one point he stopped me as I was putting the whipped cream on, so he could suck cream off my fingers. I swear to God, I thought I was going to pass out right there on the kitchen floor. Maybe I should have then I could have let him take advantage of me. (Ok, DeLuca, you're losing it now ) Nahhh Max is too much of a gentleman for that. That's what I like about him he's just so gosh darn cute and sweet. And a good kisser. Did I mention that? Sigh. Well, I guess I'd better grab some dinner and get to work on that stupid assignment. Too bad I couldn't convince Max to stay maybe I could have gotten him to lick mac and cheese off my fingers too! Such is the gourmet existence I lead
Just a quick note in my journal before I fall asleep.
You know, it's funny. As much as I generally hated being raised by Nacedo, it did teach me some useful skills. Cooking for one. He hated cooking said that human food wasn't worth trying to make attractive or tasty. I didn't care. Somehow, learning my way around the kitchen was a tiny way to defy him, and it was insignificant enough to him that he never tried to stop me.
Kyle and Jim are pretty appreciative of my cooking, which is nice. But tonight I was cooking for Max. Kyle was off at his wrestling match and Jim was still at work, so I laid everything out for a romantic dinner for two. On the floor. An indoor picnic of sorts? I guess. With me as the plate. Max and I discovered how much fun this was by accident one day, and I try to throw it in as part of our trysts now and then as a surprise. You have no idea how much of a turn-on it is for someone to eat warm baked ziti off of your stomach. Or chocolate mousse off your breasts. Or fish grapes out of well, I won't go into details. In fact, I think I may just *erase* this journal entry later. I think Kyle would flip if he knew his sister (or whatever I am to him) was doing this sort of thing. Not to mention the heart attack Jim would have. Why are humans so straight-laced?
You know, I like living here. I really do. But in some ways it would be nice to have my own place, so Max could stay the night once in a while. Ah well.
After all the millions of times I climbed through Max's window late at night, it was kind of nice to have him come to me for a change. But waiting was a bitch. Just sitting around my apartment after my evening shift at the Crashdown. Getting harder with every passing tick of the clock. Remembering all the times we've done this, and anticipating another good fuck, if only the bastard would hurry up and get his ass over here. Finally he arrived, and by then I was so horny that I didn't bother with preliminaries. Just grabbed him, kissed him, and stripped him. Maybe I should've learned Nacedo's ability to alter clothing with a pass of my hand then I could've just gotten rid of Maxwell's shirt and jeans without having to bother with buttons and zippers. I'll have to see if I can figure it out myself. Whatever. It still didn't take me more than a few seconds to get us both naked and get Max on the bed where I could finally relieve my aching cock in his tight passage. Damn it felt good. Screwing the king. Yeah. Almost makes up for all those times he bitches at me.
Sat. Mar. 24
Another day come and gone. Where does the time go? Ran errands, cleaned the house, cooked dinner and suddenly it's bedtime already. And yet it's nothing to the hectic schedule my children keep. Max in particular. He was gone all day on one errand or another, and didn't come in until after midnight. I expressed concern about his busy life, that maybe he was trying to do too much. But he gave me a smile, and assured me that he was fine. He certainly seemed happy enough.
I wonder what he does that keeps him so busy?
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