August 1999

Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the exclusive property of
20th Century Fox, 1013 Productions and Chris "hang ten" Carter. They are
being used without express written permission and I'll probably end up in
the copyright infringement section of hell for using them. That's okay. I'll
be surrounded by all of you guys.

Rating/Pairing: NC-17 for m/m naughtiness; M/K

Spoilers: Terma, TRatB Oh, and pretend season 6 hasn't happened yet.

Summary: Alex talks about Fox's visit.

Series: Just Talking Notes: This is the sequel to JT, and you have to read
that to understand everything he's talking about. You can find that on my
page- http://members.tripod.com/~ter_ma/frankie/frankie.htm This is also a
reply to the QI challenge. Thanks to Lucy, Sue and Orithain for the beta,
and to the lovely QI ladies for their encouragement. As with the first
story, this contains bad jokes and puns. WARNING: If you do not have a sense
of humor, leave now. That is all.

Archive: Sure.

Feedback: ::dons armor:: Yes, please. Luvnick62@aol.com

Just Talking 2: The Mouth That Ate Cincinnati

by Frankie

==========

Life is a funny thing. Have you ever noticed how much it can completely suck
one minute, then the next, everything's coming up roses? [I *am* Ethel
Merman.] I suppose that's what makes it what it is, but I'm not used to life
doing anything but slapping me in the face. I am a man who has done nothing
worthy in the 30-something years I've been alive. I take that back. I have
been a good employee to the men who have seen fit to pay me to wreak havoc
on whatever soul they choose. I've even done a bit to help the human race in
a cause they had no idea they should be fighting. However, on the big 1 to
10 scale of life (1 being the lowest, 10 being the highest), I'm a big fat
zero. That's why I can't understand what happened to me tonight.

Remember how I'd been in the middle of relating my true feelings for a
certain dashing Fibbie, when there was a knock on my door? It was right in
the middle of a good part, but I answered it anyway...you know, you were
there. Anyway, it was the man in question, and you won't believe what
happened after he stepped into my humble abode and closed the door behind
him. No, there was no bloodshed, and not once did his fist connect with any
part of my body in a less than friendly manner. He just sort of gave me this
curiously frustrated look, raked his hand through his hair and, without so
much as a hello, blurted out,

"Why did you call me?"

I didn't know what the hell to do. Should I lie? Tell him the truth? I
thought about it, gathered the bits of information I knew about myself and,
forthrightly, said,

"What are you talking about? I didn't call you."

Have you ever seen Fox look at someone when he knows they're full of shit?
It's really great, and kind of funny, when you're not on the receiving end.
If you do happen to be the object of that scrutiny, let me tell you, it's no
picnic. His eyes were burning holes into me...did I just say that? Shit, I
promise, the next time I use a cliche, I'll put myself out of everyone's
misery. So, there I was with these smoking holes...

"I know it was you, Krycek."

"How?"

"I star sixty-nined you." [Be still my beating heart.]

"Excuse me?"

"Star 6-9. I got your number, then used it to get your address."

Here I thought I was being so clever to block caller ID, totally forgetting
about that *other* little extra. Amazing too, considering it's my favorite
number. I know you saw that coming.

"How'd you do that?"

"I work for the FBI. It's not that hard to get an address if you use the
proper channels."

"Oh. Right." [Note to self: Kick own ass later.]

"So, why'd you call?"

"Why didn't you call me back?"

"Honestly, I thought it would be more fun to do it this way. I guess you
could say, I pulled a Krycek." [Well, I know he did that time at work...]

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"Depends on whether or not you think it is." [Dazzling, Crest-white smile.]

Let me stop here for a moment. I admit that at this point I was thinking a
number of things:

Thought #1:

The Mulder I know is dead and, in the grand tradition of "Invasion of the
Body Snatchers," has been replaced by this creature. Either that, or he's
possessed a la "The Exorcist." Gorgeous and stunning as he is, I think
getting spewed on during sex could spoil the mood. Call it a hunch.

Alex Thought #2:

This is all part of some elaborate scheme to get into my pants, thus lulling
me into a false sense of security before taking me into custody. Elaborate
is good...Mulder in my pants while I'm still wearing them, is better. Except
for the custody part, I like this thought.

Alex Thought #3:

He's choosing to ignore all the shit that's gone down since I resigned from
our partnership. I don't want to know why. I'm thinking temporary insanity
has finally moved in permanently. It's a good fit considering he's always
been on the verge of being a complete loony toon.

Alex Thought #4:

He likes me. He really likes me.

"I just want to know why you called and didn't say anything."

"What would you have done if I'd said hello?"

"Danced a fucking jig. What the hell do you think I would have done?"

I paused as I tried to imagine him doing a little dance...as he shot up the
phone. If anyone could figure out how to get a bullet to pass through the
phone line, it would be him. I declined to share this little thought with
him, though. Instead, I told him,

"Probably tell me to get a fucking life, then hang up. That's what you did,
so what's the problem?"

The smile on his face took me by surprise. I mean, it's the last thing I
expected him to do...so, why was he doing it?

"You know you just admitted it was you."

"You had it all figured out. So what?"

[Uncomfortable pause. He was being contemplative.] "Why did you do it?"

"Just to bug you." [Calling all cars. Be on the lookout for a trained
assassin. Has been known to call people and ask if their refrigerators are
running.]

"No, I meant, why did you leave?"

I know Mulder is not a stupid man. In fact, anyone who knows me and the way
I feel about him knows that I would *never* think that about him. His mind
is probably a bigger turn on for me than the rest of him. [Mr. October: "I
like walks along the beach at sunset, semi-automatic weapons, the color
plaid, and a man with brains."] However, I wondered what kind of meds he was
taking to make him ask me that. I mean, only a frontal lobotomy could result
in him asking me that question, right?

"I didn't feel like going to prison, Mulder. I've heard the food is awful."

"I would have protected you." [BONK. That was my jaw hitting the floor, in
case you were wondering.]

"Gee, now you tell me. And here I thought you hated my guts."

"Why would you think that?"

"Let's see...why would I think that? Hmm, it has nothing to do with the fact
that every time you see me, you kick my ass, call me any number of colorful
names, or both. Oh yeah, and we didn't exactly part on a good note. Just ask
your partner."

I've only seen him look confused once, and that was when he was trying to
figure out how to hack into some secret database so he could get free access
to porn sites. Now, he looked confused again, and I knew it wasn't because
he was interested in gaining access to my hard drive. [Come on. It wasn't
that bad, was it? Fine, I'll stop.]

"What does Scully have to do with this?"

This time I looked confused. I've been told it's disarming and charming, but
I think I must look like a Neanderthal - Alex no understand. Explain. Use
not big words. Ugh.

"I don't know. What *does* she have to do with it?"

"Alex, listen to me." [Yes, he called me by my first name, and I almost
jumped into his arms and told him to take me, take me now, big boy. I've
always been the picture of restraint.] "I'm not talking about the first time
you left. I'm talking about when you came to my apartment to tell me about
the Colonists' plan."

Oh...that.

"What about it?"

"Why did you just leave like that?"

"What, you expected me to stay and play a game of backgammon, maybe?"

"I expected you to stay and follow through on that kiss."

It was at that point I realized that every man has a teenage girl inside
him, screaming to get out. But, being the professional that I am, I simply
cocked my head to the side (quite jauntily, I might add) and...stuttered.

"Wh-wh-what...I-I mean"

"Yes?"

Damn him and those eyes, that mouth, that jaw, that neck, that...ah hell,
finish the inventory yourself.

"I had nothing else to say. I figured all I could do was leave you with the
information and get out of there while you were still in shock."

"You weren't trying to start something?"

"What do you mean?"

[Here's where he did that squinty-eyed, pouty, chewing on his bottom lip
thing he'd always do when we were partners. Number 407 on my "Things About
Fox That Drive Me Crazy" list.]

"Can I sit down?"

I pointed at the couch and told him to make himself comfortable.

"Alex, I need to explain some things to you."

"Go ahead."

"It'd be easier if you'd sit down, too."

Deciding that his lap would not be a good place for me to rest my ass at
that moment, I took a seat in the old armchair next to the couch.

"Explain."

"I never forgot what happened between us that night at work. Have you?"

Do you have any idea how hard it is not to yell "Fuck, no!" when you're
supposed to seem disinterested?

"It's crossed my mind on occasion." [Best acting of my life. Are you paying
attention, Oscar voters?]

"I could never forgive myself for that. It's probably one of the lowest
points of my life."

Why didn't he just reach into my chest and pull out my tiny, black,
Grinch-like heart?

"Stop trying to sweet talk me, Mulder. Get to the point."

"What I mean is, I couldn't believe I'd fallen for you, fallen for the shit
you probably pull with everyone in order to get what you want."

"I'm not following." [I'm smarter than the average bear, but the average
bear isn't all that perceptive.]

"I let myself become emotionally involved with someone who ended up
betraying me."

"We weren't emotionally involved, Mulder. We fucked." [Boy, did we.]

"I thought that's all it was too, but my feelings for you were...they were
deeper than I realized. It wasn't until you left that I knew I meant nothing
to you. That's why all I could do was lash out at you whenever we'd meet."

"I know. I was there."

"Right."

"So, what changed?"

"That night in my apartment. I thought that you were just there to yank my
chain, but I found out you were telling me the truth. I couldn't figure out
why the hell you'd want to help me. I honestly never expected that from you.
And when I looked back on how you kissed me, I thought maybe you *did* have
feelings for me."

At this point, I was tempted to search my potted palm for a hidden camera.
How did I know that footage of me being jerked around wasn't going to show
up on "America's Funniest Losers"? And I'd have to make a point of checking
out the local cable access channel for any video of me dancing around naked,
singing "It's Raining Men", using a vibrator for a mic. [Hey, I don't judge
you for what you do in *your* free time.]

"Mulder, I told you the only reason I was giving you that information was
because I didn't want the human race to cease existing. Where the hell would
I find good bagels if the bakery down the street wasn't around anymore?"

"What about the kiss?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Did it mean anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was so...you lingered."

"What?"

"You lingered. Your mouth...it was so close to mine and you just...I don't
know. You *stayed* there for a while. When you pulled away, I thought you
were going to kiss me again."

I remembered that night. Every detail had been engraved on my sin-addled
brain. I even dreamt about it, on occasion. I always wondered about the
expression on his face after I'd kissed him. Assuming it was just his normal
homicidal tendency where I'm concerned, I usually decided to ignore
it...until the next time I thought about it.

"I wondered why you looked like that, you know."

"I wanted you, Alex. I was willing to throw out every bit of our past for a
quick fuck."

"It would have been slow, Mulder. Slow, and easy, and really, really good."

As cheesy as that sounded, I actually turned myself on a bit when I said it
to him. It was probably the look on his face (and the way he licked his
lips) that did it, now that I think it over. I mean, I'm egotistical, but
I'm not *that* bad...most of the time.

"Are you saying it *did* mean something?"

"Sure it did. It meant I was fucking with your head."

Have you ever done anything really stupid and later regretted it? Of course,
you have. Who hasn't? Well, the minute those words left my mouth, I wished I
could have taken them back. I didn't mean to make it sound like an outright
rejection of what he'd said to me, but that's the way he interpreted it.
OODs can be so fussy.

"I should have known better, I guess. It's my own fault for thinking
something that stupid."

Man, the look on his face just about made me want to throw myself in front
of a speeding bus. I mean, I could almost hear the wind going out of his
sails. Here I was, minutes away from getting my deepest desire, and I was
blowing it. [Notice my not saying anything snarky about blowing him.] I was
letting my macho need to not be the first one to break get in the way of
what I was feeling. In fact, it was what I'd been bitching about just
minutes before. Nope, instead of throwing my arms (make that 'arm') around
him and telling him how I was feeling, I let him think I didn't give a shit.
In a way, I think I was calling his bluff. I mean, how was I supposed to
know that he meant what he was saying and that it wasn't just some trick to
make me look like an idiot?

Alex argues with himself: Part One

You *do* realize he just told you that he had feelings for you and thinks
you feel the same way about him.

So?

So, it's what you've been wanting for years now.

What's it going to get me?

Besides never-ending happiness, you mean?

No, I mean, besides never-ending bruises and jail time.

Why would you get jail time?

Because I'm a *criminal*. Because this is probably all part of some
elaborate plan to-

Yeah, yeah, yeah...you've said that already. You've got quite an ego, you
know.

Fuck you.

No sale, buddy. I know you too well to want to do that.

You're right. I'm sorry.

What are you up to?

Nothing. I agree with you. I think he's being sincere.

Uh oh...what's wrong with you? Why are you being so nice to me? What do you
want?

Not a thing. I just think I should listen to you. You're always right when
it comes to saving my life and other important things. The only time you
fucked up was that time in Russia.

You're never going to let up, are you? I lost the arm, too, you know. But
you're digressing. The bottom line is you should believe him and be honest
with him.

I guess there's always a first time for everyth-

Please don't say that.

Why not?

Because you are an honest person. You just don't always say what people want
to hear.

Whatever.

How about getting back to your story? No one cares what you talk to yourself
about.

Good point.

"Mulder, you're not stupid."

"What?"

"I said, you're not stupid. You're the complete opposite of stupid."

"What are you saying?"

"I didn't think you'd give my visit a second thought."

"And..."

"And I wasn't just trying to mess with you."

"You weren't."

"You mean more to me than you know."

I never expected him to move so quickly, but he was off that couch faster
than you could say 'Man, that was fast.'

"Alex, what are you saying?"

"I don't know. What do you want me to be saying?"

"I want you to say what you're feeling. Please, don't tell me that every
thought I've had about you since that night is just me driving myself
crazy."

Okay, so maybe I was starting to buy it. I couldn't look into those eyes and
dismiss what I saw. Maybe I *wanted* to believe he could care about me as
much as I cared about him. I know this probably sounds too good to be true,
and seems a bit contrived, but I swear on the life of Kathie Lee Gifford
that I'm not lying. He really did say all these things to me, and he really
did kneel down in front of me and put his hand on my thigh, waiting for me
to answer him. I couldn't think of what to say to him. Did I confess my love
at that moment? Or did I wait to see what else he would say to me? Would it
be okay for me to throw him down on the floor, fuck him senseless, then say
I'd get back to him about the feelings stuff?

I have to tell you, it was more than a little disconcerting to hear him
being so honest with me. I didn't know if I liked the fact that this was
coming so easily. Where was the angry guy who didn't give a fuck about me?
Him I could deal with. This...this almost desperate guy in front of me was
making me very nervous. The look in his eyes was daring me to say something,
anything, but to please not hurt him. Oh shit.

"Mulder, I-I love you." [So much for waiting.]

You know that feeling when you tell a joke and no one laughs when you get to
the punchline because they're still *waiting* for the punchline? I felt a
little like that at that moment. He just stared at me, his mouth hanging
slightly open. I wanted to tap his jaw and see if it would make a clicking
sound when it closed. I wanted to wave my hand in front of his face and see
if he'd blink. Most of all, I wanted him to say something, or, at the very
least, breathe.

"Mulder? Did you hear me?"

He started nodding. I don't mean a nice concise, professional nod. He
started nodding...and nodding...and wouldn't stop. I had to put my hand on
the top of his head to hold it still.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah...I just never expected... Are you sure?"

Sure? What the hell did he mean, was I sure? It wasn't like we were ordering
take out and I'd told him I wanted the kung pao chicken instead of the moo
shu pork.

"I'd better be sure, otherwise you'll kick my ass."

"Nah, I'd probably do that anyway."

I laughed at that. [If he tells you I snorted, he's a dirty liar.] He began
laughing along with me...a lot. A sweet chuckle, or goofy guffaw, I could
understand, but he was letting out some major, hysterical, hearty laughter.
I chose to think that it was caused by nerves and that he wasn't laughing at
all the times he'd hurt me.

"It wasn't that funny. You left bruises."

"It's not that. I'd never laugh at that." [The part of ChuckleFox will now
be played by UltraSeriousMulder. Talk about a complete 180.]

"What, then?"

"Don't you think this whole thing is crazy? Think about it. You and I have
every reason to hate each other. Me, because of what you did to me, you,
because of what I've done to you. One night, a million years ago, we fucked
around. That, in itself, should not have been enough to make me fall
head-over-heels for you, and even when it did, my feelings should have been
quashed by what happened later. Do you understand what I mean?"

::slack-jawed stare::

"Alex? Talk to me, buddy."

"You were head-over-heels?"

"There you go, focus on the important stuff." [Historic footnote: He smiled
and stroked my face. This is important because, for the first time in my
life, I was struck speechless.]

"Alex, I loved you."

::deep breath::

"You...oh...'loved'. As in past tense. Well, I can understand that. I mean,
a lot has happened since then. I can't expect you to-"

"Shut up and listen." [Aye, aye, cap'n.] "I'm trying to say that when we
were partners, much to my surprise, I was in love with you. I thought it was
infatuation, you know, me trying to figure you out because you were so
driven, cocky, arrogant and ambitious. I wanted to know how your mind
worked. Hell, I wanted to know everything about you so I could understand
you. It wasn't until the night we were alone at work together that I
realized what I'd really wanted all that time."

"And when I left, you got over it. I *do* understand. Really. It's okay."

::frustrated sigh and intense shoulder grip::

"Yes, after you left, I hated you. I wanted you dead. I wanted you to hurt
as much as I was hurting. But, when you redeemed yourself-"

"When I what?"

"In my apartment. That's how I saw it, anyway. That night, I knew I couldn't
get away from it. God help me, but I was willing to put my feelings for you
ahead of anything resembling logic."

"And that's why you're here? You're being illogical?"

"I'm here because I love you, you moron."

I'd like to say that after that romantic declaration, he swept me up in his
arms and we retired to the bedchamber. Unfortunately, things never work out
like that. You want to know what happened? I mean, there we were, finally
admitting our feelings for each other after all this time, ready to take the
next step, if his kiss was any indication... Oh yeah, he kissed me after he
said he loved me. Excellent, by the way. Just like I remembered from when we
were partners. Only this time, he hadn't been eating sunflower seeds so it
wasn't as...salty. Anyway, I knew I was going to get lucky...when his
goddamn cell phone rang. I want to kill the guy who invented those fucking
things. Who knows how many intimate moments have been destroyed by those
little pieces of shit? He answered it,

"Mulder."

::frown::

"When? Uh huh. There's no way... Okay. Thanks."

::puppy dog eyes::

"I have to go."

This is when I knew it was a trick. Shit, the timing was just too
convenient, you know? I couldn't believe I'd fallen for it.

"I can't believe I fell for it."

"Fell for what?"

"Your little plan to make a fool of me. Good job, Mulder."

"You can't believe that, Alex."

Alex argues with himself: Part Two

Why are you giving him a hard time? The guy has to work.

Doesn't it seem a little funny to you?

Not at all. You know what the Bureau's like.

Yeah, bad suits, shit cases and coffee that tastes like it was made during
the Eisenhower administration.

Be fair. I don't think it's a trick.

Yeah, but you also don't think the smoking bastard is all that bad.

Hey, that only happened once. You said you wouldn't bring it up again.

Well, I lied. Just like Mulder did.

You don't give up, do you?

Nope. Why do you think I'm so good at staying alive?

Point taken. But look at him. Is that the face of someone who's dicking you
around?

Maybe not.

*Maybe* not? Come on, open your eyes, man.

"Alex? Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What you're feeling."

"No, you don't. Trust me."

"Do you want to know who was on the phone?"

"I assume it was Scully."

I know...never assume because yadda, yadda, yadda. Long story short, he left
because he had to pick up his car. It was in the shop and the mechanic
called him to say he couldn't fix the problem. If Fox wanted to have his car
for the weekend, he had to get it right then. Why couldn't he just rent one?
Good question. He said it would be easier to get it now than wait for Monday
when he'd be too busy to get over there. I pouted, he kissed me again and
left. I felt really stupid for doubting him, but a guy can't be too careful,
right? Actually, I still feel stupid telling you this. The guy's asleep in
my bed, so what was I worried about? Hindsight...it's not just for breakfast
anymore.

You know that pick-up line about heaven missing an angel? I always thought
that was really stupid. Of course, that never stopped me from using it a few
times, with very good results. I also used that 'I've got the F, the C and
the K. All I need is you' line...once...when I was really drunk. It worked,
though. She was drunk too. Um, I had a point. Yeah, so I'm sitting here,
looking at my sleeping Fox and wondering how the hell heaven let this one
get away. His face is so peaceful, and if I didn't occasionally check his
breathing, I'd swear he was dead. I know...morbid. I told you before that I
don't have a way with words when it comes to love or anything resembling
romance.

The sheets are tangled around his legs, and he's lying on his stomach, his
perfect ass just daring me to smack it and wake him up. He needs his rest,
though. I can see a reddish-purplish mark on his shoulder where I bit him.
Good thing I've had my shots. It's okay, I've got an equally colorful mark
on my left nipple. Seems that years of shelling sunflower seeds with his
teeth have given him the impulse to bite whenever something small and hard
is in his mouth. I like it.

I suppose I should turn in, myself. I still can't believe that my life's
changed so much in the past-

Alex argues with himself: Part Three

Oh, no you don't.

What?

You're not going to leave, just like that.

Why not?

Details! I want details!

Shut up. You were there.

Look, I always look out for you and get nothing but grief in return. All I'm
asking for is a little consideration.

For you?

No, for whoever would care to know what happened between you and yodel boy.

He did *not* yodel!

Okay, yodel, scream, sing...whatever. Spill it.

But it's personal.

More personal than the stuff you've talked about before?

Well, it's private.

Hon, you've had sex in public places for money. When did privacy become an
issue for you?

When it started involving the man I love...and who loves me.

That's sweet, but what's the harm?

It's the principle.

Excuse me? The what?

Principle.

That's what I thought you said.

Why?

Nothing.

No, what's wrong?

Forget I said anything. It's your choice. That's fine. Your *principles*
won't let you share.

You're a bastard, you know that?

That's why you love me.

True.

So...

Yeah?

Details?

Fine.

Thank you.

Shhh!

Sorry...

I had asked him if he wanted me to drive him to get his car, but he said he
could take a cab. I felt bad because I didn't want to let him out of my
sight now that I knew his true feelings. Still, I didn't want to push the
issue, so I acquiesced and watched him walk out the door.

You have never seen a man find so many stupid little things to do in an
apartment. I cleaned up everything in sight, changed the sheets, vacuumed,
washed the dish (I don't eat at home that often) and made myself a vodka
tonic. All of this in record time and one-handed, thank you very much.

He came back just as I had sat down with my drink, making me spring up from
the chair like a psychotic Jack-in-the-box when he opened the door.

"I'm back."

"I see that. Want a drink?"

I now know what it's like to be a matador staring into the eyes of a bull
that's about to charge. That's the look he gave me just before he crossed
the short distance to hold me and kiss me. Please, don't picture that as a
scene out of some old black and white movie where the male lead dashes
across a room, grabs his leading lady and plants a big old 'I really mean
it' kiss on her lips. His steps were very deliberate, almost predatory, and
for the first time in a long time, I knew I was wanted by someone I wanted
just as much.

Surrender has never been as easy as it was when I completely gave in to him.
I kind of went limp in his arms and the only thing holding me up was him. If
he'd have let go at that exact moment, unless his lips were strong enough to
hold the weight of a grown man, I would have plunked down, unceremoniously,
in my chair. But, as it was, he held me tight and gave me the deepest,
wettest, hottest, most thorough kiss I'd ever gotten. My lips are still
buzzing, and my tongue...let's just say my tongue has never been happier to
be so used. Wow.

He pulled away and I had to remind myself to open my eyes. What I saw can
carry me to my grave should I die in the next minute or so. The smile on his
face was so loving and tender, for a second I thought I'd turned into a
puppy or something equally cute. Sure, he said he loved me, but no one could
look at me like that and mean it. Right? Wrong.

"You're incredible. This whole thing is incredible."

"Yeah." [It's okay. You don't have to be impressed with my eloquence.]

"Alex, you're blushing."

"No, I'm not. I've been drinking."

"How many have you had?"

"Counting this one?"

"Uh huh."

"One sip."

"I never had you figured for a lightweight." [FYI, Fox doesn't just have a
girlie scream. His giggle sounds an awful lot like it should be coming out
of some adolescent babe's mouth. Don't tell him I said that.]

"You gonna tease me, or are you going to fuck me?"

"I was hoping to do a bit of both." [It's not corny, it's cute. Hush.]

He took the drink out of my hand and swallowed it in one gulp. I expected
him to choke or something, since I don't believe in making drinks that
contain more mixer than liquor. I didn't even see his eyes tear.

"Do you need another?"

Okay, so *this* is the part that seemed like it came straight from an old
movie. He looked me in the eye, smiled wickedly and pulled me against him so
roughly, I thought I'd cracked a rib.

"There's only one thing I need, and it doesn't come in a glass."

I almost said something about having to give that a try sometime, but didn't
think the look on his face lent itself to my smartass comments. Instead, I
settled on being a mildlyintelligentass.

"You want the bottle, then?"

"No, but I want something else long and hard." [I see. He says it and it's
okay. Fickle.]

His reply was punctuated by a really nice little hip grind, swivel thing
that just about made me believe there was a god.

I've never made better time than when I ran to the bedroom, dragging him
behind me. Now, picture the two of us facing each other and lovingly
undressing one another...a button undone, a little kiss on whatever skin is
slowly exposed...gentle caresses as we slide the intrusive garments off our
anxious bodies... Got it? Okay, now think of the exact opposite because that
was what it was like. Anyone walking in on us would have thought the
Tasmanian Devil was trapped in my room and trying to decide what to wear.
Clothes were flying everywhere, fingers were tripping over each other in a
mad dash to get as naked as possible in the shortest time imaginable. (I've
never missed my arm as much as I did at that moment.) I think some things
were tossed out the window...I'll have to check later. Anyway, you'd think
that neither of us had experienced human contact in years (which may have
actually been true for Fox), because we were both driving ourselves crazy
trying to be everywhere and touch everything at once. That was while we were
still standing up. By the time we made it to the bed, I was well on my way
to kissing and licking literally every centimeter of his body. God, if Fox
was a buffet, I'd weigh 400 pounds by now.

After a number of long, luscious minutes, we ended up in a very convenient
position, namely, with our dicks in each other's mouths. Quid pro quo may be
the most romantic words on the earth, because I'd never been as happy to
give and receive as I was then. The salty heat in my mouth, the fucking
incredible feeling of Fox devouring me...man, just stamp "Paid in full" on
my forehead and throw me in a corner somewhere. I don't know if Fox cared
that I was so completely fixated on sucking his cock, but I bet you my
tongue could draw a relief map of it, should the need ever arise.

I came first. Fox doesn't know how close he came to being a eunuch, but he
must not have noticed because he continued to suck my dick dry as if he
wanted to see me shrivel up. I actually had to pull away from him so I'd
have something left to play with later. As soon as I did that, it's like he
noticed for the first time that my lips were wrapped around his manhood,
pole, rod, joystick, manmeat, swizzle stick...take your pick. [Just don't
call it Fox Junior. He doesn't like that.] I kept partaking of my favorite
dish, and he started moving his hips until he was fucking my mouth. The
whole time, I kept thinking it was a good thing I studied how to be a sword
swallower, because I could have died. Okay, I'm being a bit dramatic and
hyperbolic, but when someone says Fox is a handful, they should try giving
him head sometime. He's a fucking throatful. Not that I didn't love every
thrust and stolen breath. Quite the contrary. By the time he was ready to
come, I was laid out, deep throating him the way he deserved...and I think
might have been accustomed. I have to remember to ask him about that when he
wakes up.

When he came, I thought I was going to drown...in a good way. I couldn't get
enough of the stuff, and did what he'd done to me, earlier. I started to
feel like a mama cat after a while, and he didn't seem to mind the
attention. It's stupid, but I was so happy to just lie there, kissing him
every now and then, feeling him stroking my hair, whispering ridiculously
saccharine terms of endearment to each other. [None of your business.] It
was heaven.

I suppose that's pretty much all that-

Alex argues with himself: Part Four

Hey! That's not all that happened!

Listen. I'm tired and I want to get back into bed with Fox.

Come on...

Stop whining.

Well, at least talk about what happened when you guys discussed, you know...

What?

The thing that almost made you cry.

Oh...that. I don't think so. Too much information.

Please? For me?

Fine, but you'd better leave me alone after this.

You got it.

We were lying there, kissing, fondling and basically getting all riled up
again, when Fox told me to get onto my back because...shit, if I have to
tell you, get out of here. That's when it hit me that I'd been lying on my
left side. The stuff that had happened when we'd first gotten into bed was
so fast, I hadn't even thought about my arm. But now...now we were taking
things easy, and he was going to get a good look at it for the first time. I
didn't move.

"Alex, come on, baby...I want you on your back."

"Fox, I can't."

"What? Why not? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just...I can't, right now."

"Please tell me. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Then we can wait until you're ready."

Okay, his sweetness and understanding were starting to piss me off. Why
didn't he just tell me to get my fucking act together and do what he said?
Because he loooooooves me, that's why. I knew this, but I thought he'd
*make* me tell him what was wrong rather than waiting to see if I would. He
looked so concerned about me, and I knew I was being totally paranoid. It's
not like he didn't know what happened to me. I'm sure while we were doing
our tornado impression, he caught a glimpse. The difference was I hadn't
been aware of it until now. I stared at him, hoping he'd read my mind or
something. Unfortunately, there's a reason Fox joined the FBI and not the
Psychic Friends Network. I had to bite the bullet.

"I'm...Fox, I don't want you to see..."

"What is it? Is this about your arm?"

Ack. He'd said it. I couldn't look at him. I just nodded.

"Alex, look at me." [No sale.]

"Alex, please...let me see you." [Weakening...]

"I love you, Alex. Please." [Bingo.]

The minute I looked up at him, I knew he'd never judge me or recoil from me
because of what I looked like. He kissed me and I think he was waiting for
me to say something to him. I had no idea what he wanted to hear, and asked
him,

"What do you want me to say?" [I seemed to be making a habit of it. That was
at least the third time I'd done it.]

"You don't have to say anything. I want you to listen.

"I love you, Alex. Now, if I look at your past actions and add them to mine,
that doesn't compute. There's no way you and I should be together, but here
we are. Do you want to know why I'm here?"

I nodded. I hated feeling like some junior athlete who was getting a pep
talk, but then again, none of my coaches had ever declared their love for
me. Well, except for that one assistant coach in college who started
stalking me, but that's another story. This one is much better.

"I look at you and I don't see your crimes. I don't see your betrayals or
shitty 'No one can touch me' attitude. For some reason, the fact that you're
a cold-hearted killer never registers, and I hardly notice the annoying way
you always put yourself on the defensive."

"That's not true, and none of this is making me feel better."

"See? That's what I mean. Now, shut up."

It sounds worse than it was. He shut me up by sticking his tongue in my
mouth. That's the best diversionary tactic to use with me, apparently.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I don't see a lot of things that are
obvious to people who don't care about you the way I do. That includes the
parts of you that aren't perfect. Those are the things I don't see and that
don't matter to me. If they did, I wouldn't be here right now.

"Before you say anything, I want you to realize that I know you're more than
what you do...what you've done. When we were partners, I know you showed
some of your true self to me. Your brilliance, your naivete about some
things, your concern about doing what's right...I know those weren't all
false, Alex. Even after you left, you were driven by something that
eventually made you want to do the right thing. You just happened to take a
hell of a detour to get there.

"Deep down, you're a different person, a good person, and I know you're
fighting against what you've become, every day. That night in my apartment,
I saw that fight in your eyes. I saw the person you want to be, Alex. That's
the man I love. I love what no one else can see. Maybe I'm making the
biggest mistake of my life. Maybe you are, who knows? None of it matters to
me because I love you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

I understood. I completely understood. For the first time in my life,
someone was telling me they loved me in spite of who I was or what I'd lost.
I'd defined myself by my actions and my life choices for so long, that I'd
forgotten maybe there was a human being under all this darkness.

"Fox, if you ever wake up and realize you've made a mistake, I want you to
leave, okay? I don't want you to do something you can't live with."

Man, talk about dirty looks. I guess it wasn't so much dirty as really,
really disappointed and a bit disgusted. I just wanted to make sure he had
an out, that's all. You know, this aircraft has six emergency exits, that
kind of thing. So, I expected him to launch into some lecture about how
stupid I am, but instead he kissed me again. It was so soft, and for a
second I wondered if I'd dreamt it. Whenever I'd dream of him, that's how he
always kissed me and now it was really happening. Of course, in my dream,
the next thing that happened was Annette Funicello would come into my
bedroom, ask if I had any jelly, then leave singing the Mickey Mouse Club
song. Her absence was how I knew this was really happening. Well, that and
the fact that he started biting my nipple, causing some interesting noises
to come out of my mouth, as well as the aforementioned injury. [Please,
don't give me any shit about my "feelings" or not being "romantic" enough.
Some things are meant to be shared only with the object of my desire. That
wasn't defensive, was it? So what if it was? Anyway.]

Okay, to make a long story...to wrap up this rambling mess into a nice, neat
package, suffice it to say he and I made love. And before that annoying
little voice asks for salacious details, let me pose a few questions:

How do you tell someone about the most perfect, awe inspiring event of your
life, without making it seem like less than it is?

How do you relate the feeling that you've finally found your soulmate, and
the reason you know this is because when you make love, you don't have to
say a word to each other in order to say everything your heart is bursting
to say?

How do you make a person see that no matter what's happened in someone's
life, the strength of one simple touch can erase all the pain, leaving only
something beautiful and magical behind?

How do you keep thinking of questions to illustrate how incredibly in love
you are and how much that love means?

Answer: You don't.

I shall now take my newfound depth, and head to bed. But before I do, I want
to say that I now know a few things:

1) I love him even more than I thought I did.

2) He loves me more than I deserve.

3) He also loves me enough to let me...heh, okay, that's too personal.

4) I really don't like sleeping alone.

5) He snores. But it's that cute purring kind of snore that lets me know
he's still by my side and hasn't left me.

So maybe that list wasn't as profound as it could have been, and maybe you
have no idea why we've ended up together. Join the club. I just know that
for the first time in my life, I've gotten what I wanted more than anything,
and I have to do my best to keep it and nurture it. Kind of makes my
relationship with Fox sound like a new puppy, but there you go.

Speaking of going, I really have to get back to Fox. He's lying there,
looking completely irresistible and I need to be next to him. We belong to
each other now and have a lot of catching up to do. I think I'll be generous
and let him sleep, though. This way I can watch him and not make him feel as
if I'm scrutinizing every little part of him. I *am* scrutinizing every
little part of him, but I just don't want *him* to feel that way. I can be
patient, when it counts. Besides, we have a long time to make up for what
we've missed.

Shouldn't you be thinking about going to bed, yourself? You'd better, or
I'll make you tell me what you're doing up this late.

Good night.

END

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