Afternoon Weirdness 17: Vase by Te 2/99 Disclaimers: Not mine. Spoilers: Not a one. Summary: An interlude. Ratings Note: NC-17 for language, m/m interaction, and Alex's two arms. Shuddup, you. Author's Note: Viridian sent me the poem at the end of this, thus playing an active role in her own distraction. Acknowledgments: To Rae for fine audiencing, and to Pretty Pretty Dawn Pares for astoundingly quick and fine beta. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AW17: Vase by Te Daddy793@aol.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The little apartment is practically on top of the El. The place is dirty and bleak, but shows signs of having been lived in and cared for sometime before Alex acquired it. He is naked, chilled a little because the furnace in this building is not the best. The kitchen, however, is the warmest part of the apartment. Mulder is behind him, and Alex believes he knows just how the late morning winter sunlight, even strained through the small pane of dusty glass, is painting the other man's hair. There is a glass vase on the windowsill that Alex hadn't been able to stop himself from cleaning one night. After the snow melted behind the building, he'd picked up a handful of the leaves that had somehow managed to dry themselves and dropped them in. When the trains rattled the vase, like now, the leaves made a skittering sound like a carefully creeping monster, guaranteed to be strange if he could only see it. Mulder is naked as well, and the slick fingers in Alex's ass are wonderful. Alex braces himself against the sink and thinks, 'Anything, anything you want, it's all right, it's my fault, please don't stop.' Except that some or all of that may have been said aloud, because suddenly Mulder twists the two strong fingers inside him, making his raise up on tiptoe, making him sweat, making him cry out for more... "If I let you feel guilty for both of us, I'll just wind up feeling guiltier..." It's whispered against the side of his throat and Alex arches back to give that ruefully smiling mouth easier access. Mulder responds with a groan, and Alex knows he's stealing fault again, and it'll be harder next time on both of them. He can't stop to make it better, he doesn't know how... "Why do you want me like this?" And Mulder sounds almost plaintive, but he never stops scissoring the fingers inside of him. Alex doesn't understand, they're using lube, the bruises will be small and few... "Mulder, please..." He knows that voice will be enough. When Mulder sinks his teeth in, hard, Alex's cock tries to climb his belly because this is *right*. This is just right and he doesn't understand why the vase isn't still trembling on the edge of a fall. Mulder is fucking him with his fingers now, rough and fast, brushing his prostate with no real rhythm or design or care... Alex is going to come from just this, or maybe he needs to move a hand down to his cock -- The hand bracing his hip is suddenly pinning his wrist to the sink-edge. "No... you want me *this* way." And Alex moans his agreement, pushes back on those apparently tireless fingers faster. The air is cool against his belly, which he's been painting with his leaking cock. He feels sticky and trapped, a dying insect in the thrall of something so *bright* -- He sobs hoarsely when the fingers are removed, wishing the window was closer so he could rest his brow against cool glass for the eternity Mulder would make him wait. The blunt nudge against his entrance comes after much too long but it's still a small shock. He thinks 'I'm getting what I want, I'd forgotten what --' But then Mulder shoves the head past the restriction in one painful thrust and he cries out again, tenses for a long moment. Mulder's fingers tighten on his wrist, too, as if he thought Alex would try to escape him. He forces himself to relax again, warming immeasurably at the feel of Mulder relaxing just slightly out of time with him. Or maybe just at the teasing blaze licking out across his nerve endings. He imagines how the coming thrusts will feel and begins to moan again. Mulder pauses again, one hand on his hip, the other on his arm and tenses but Alex says, "*More*." And then he's fucking his way inside. Short, sharp thrusts that threaten to break Alex into pieces, a steady battering that wilts his cock a little even as it makes him need. When Mulder is in, huge and real and *his*, he pulls Alex closer to him. Alex can feel a series of full-body shudders rack the other man and struggles not to bear down at all. He doesn't want Mulder to come yet. Lips against his ear, dragging wet and warm across his cheek and down. Open-mouthed and then the sweat is being licked from the hollow of shoulder and neck and Alex is getting hard again. He lets his head fall back, he feels boneless, tethered to reality only by the hand still pressed to the sink. Alex's other hand is stretched back to hold the other man in him tight. 'Stay right there, let me come just by feeling you...' But Mulder starts to move, shallow thrusts that are still more stretch than fuck. The heat washes over Alex again and he sweats a little more. He can smell himself and Mulder. An old, obvious scent that just makes him hotter. A little more now, and Alex's upper body is pulled back into arches with each thrust because he still has his hand on Mulder's hips. It's a subtle re-shaping. Mulder is an artist, making his body more than itself, less a person than an expression of pleasure in stretched, struggling muscles. Alex needs this so badly and he can't let Mulder control the pace anymore, beginning to move first in time with Mulder, then harder and faster. Mulder lets out a strangled groan and frees his wrist at last, moving both hands to his hips, knocking Alex's away from his own hip. He braces himself on the sink again, trying to be loose and useable as possible. Mulder slips out almost all the way before slamming back, forcing the air from Alex's body and he can feel his ghost try to fly past his teeth and he bites down hard and keeps it, waiting for the next thrust. And the next makes his teeth rattle, and the next makes him nearly howl, clipped off with the grind of Mulder's pelvis flush with his ass. "You want this, you *want* this --" And Alex would say yes but he can't speak at all, can barely hold himself steady because his knees wants to buckle, *he* wants to buckle under the assault and the only thing stopping him is the fear Mulder might stop... The hands at his hips grip tighter still and then Mulder finds a new rhythm, slow enough to retain the impossible intensity of each thrust, fast enough to make Alex fear he wouldn't be able to hold on to anything at all. "Show me, damn it..." Gritted out and Alex felt Mulder's eyes pierce through the back of his now-burning nape and then he wasn't still anymore, rolling his hips with the wonderful punishment. Letting his soul spill through his lips in scores of helpless sobbing cries. Alex's face was wet with sweat and tears and he thought that was blood running down his chin and Mulder-- Mulder bucked suddenly and thickened inside Alex for an impossible heartbeat before coming with a yell Alex wished was buried in his throat. Hot weight on his back and he was so hard it hurt but it only lasted for a moment because Mulder spun him around and fell to his knees with an audible, certainly painful thump. Grabbed his wrists again and forced them back hard against the lower cupboards and took his dark, throbbing cock deep in his throat with a muffled, harsh groan. And then fucked his own face ruthlessly on it until Alex couldn't hold back anymore and did it for him. Another groan and it seemed to last forever, stretching out, stretching his cock out over wetly hot vibration forever, and Alex threw his head back threw his hips forward felt Mulder's nose in his curls and shot. When Alex could see again Mulder was still on his knees, head bent, forehead pressed in the hollow of his hipbone. His face was wet. Alex knelt himself, pushing Mulder forward a little. Wrapped his arms around the other man and held on through the world-shaking of another train. He didn't have to worry about next time yet. ~~~~ End. ~~~~ Having used every subterfuge To shake you, lies, fatigue, or even that of passion, Now I see no way but a clean break I add that I am willing to bear the guilt You nod assent. Autumn turns windy, huge, A clear vase of dry leaves vibrating on and on. We sit, watching. When I next speak Love buries itself in me, up to the hilt. - "A Renewal" by James Merrill