DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and related characters are the property of1013 Productions and Fox Television. No copyright infringement is intended by this work of fanfiction.
Fox Mulder lay there in the bed, unable to sleep. It was now well past 2 a.m. and he was desperate for the slumber that would not come. He lay on his back on the lumpy motel mattress, his only comfort was the equally lumpy pillow balled up under his head.
Reaching back in his memory, he decided to try a trick his mother taught him as a youth. Rather than counting sheep, she had once told him to use the alphabet to fall asleep. It had been one of the few kindnesses he could recall from his unhappy childhood, a rare moment of caring from the woman he called mother. He had been only four or five years old on some stormy night when she had suggested he list out his ABC's and for each letter think of something he liked, something that was special to him. If he tried this, she promised he'd soon be dreaming about all his favorite things.
So on this sleepless night in some god-forsaken motel room, he decided to try her little game. Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed aside the useless pillow and began at the beginning...
A, A was for apple. Ripe, juicy apple. Red apple. Smooth red skin. Skin. Smooth. Apple. Adam's apple. Alex's adam's apple. Smooth. Skin. Alex's skin. Lickable skin. Alex. Lickable. Alex's adam's apple. And up, higher to the line of his chin. Nibble. Bite. Kiss. Devour. Taste. Alex. Sweet apple. Sweet adam's apple. Sweet Alex. But he must move on, drive the thoughts out of his head. Move on, move on. Alex was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about on a night like this.
B, B was for bat, baseball bat. Baseball, his favorite game. Baseball. Baseball bat, made of wood. Hard, rigid wood. Alex's bat, swinging, dangling, tempting him to do things he shouldn't. Alex, walking around the apartment naked, like nothing really mattered, like sex didn't matter, like need didn't matter. Alex. Need. Desire. Alex. Baseball bat. Hard, swinging, bat. Alex's bat.
This wasn't working out, this wasn't supposed to be happening. The game was supposed to relax him, make him drift off to sleep. But he was relaxing, the knots in his back were slowly releasing and he felt the blood pumping through him again, taking away the aches in his body. But the blood was coursing other places as well, filling him up and making him hard. He tried to adjust himself under the mattress and relieve some of the strain. He tried to continue, unable to think of a way out of the situation.
C, C was for cat, Alex's cat like reflexes his sinuous muscles wrapping around him, manipulating his body, the dirty dog.
Dirty dog. Alex was a dog. Dog, dog, dog. Doggy-style. He wanted to do it doggy-style. Mulder's body began to push against the mattress, rhythmically. Alex was a dog, a dog down on all fours, begging for it. Begging for it. The pace of his thrusts increased as his hands gripped the folds of the old bed sheets.
E, E was for, was for, oh hell, he didn't give a damn what E was for, E was for everything, every inch of Alex's body. Alex's legs, toned and tanned from the sun. Alex's arms, strong and demanding, pinning him against the wall. Alex's lips, his hair, his fingers running along Mulder's spine, his eyes glowing in the dark, his everything. Everything. Alex. Everything.
And oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Oh god, god damned Alex, god damn him for doing this to him.
Mulder continued to thrust, ever more violently into the helpless mattress, his body like a piston slamming into the weakening surface of the bed.
"Oh hell, oh hell," he shouted out as his body reached the edge of resistance. His head pulled up and his back arched, with the final slam into the mattress. For a split second his entire body froze in place and his lips quivered, until finally screaming out, "Alex!" and his body exploded.
He let the pleasure surge through him, like a passing electric current, tracing every neuron in his body. Within a few moments his sanity was restored and he was made whole again.
Oh hell, just once, just once he'd like to make it past H. But he couldn't, he couldn't control himself. Just once he'd like to make it to something higher like K or L. L. L was for... L was for, for a word he could never reach, a word he could never let himself say, not when it came to Alex. Not with Alex. Not the L word.
Finally, he collapsed, completely spent. His eyelids struggled for a few moments, but then gave in to the sleep that was finally overtaking him.
read more lopsided fiction by the lopsided weevil at http://lopsided.tripod.com