From: Daddy793 Date: 19 Feb 1999 01:19:57 GMT Subject: NEW: "So Tired" by Te Afternoon Weirdness 18: So Tired by Te 2/99 Disclaimers: No one here is mine, dammit. Spoilers: Vague references to S.R. 819, Two Fathers/ One Son. Sort of. Summary: Yet another sign of the Decline and Fall of Slash Fan Fiction. Ratings Note: PG-13. Author's Notes: Myyyyyy Rae... is a veryveryvery fine Rae... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AW18: So Tired by Te Daddy793@aol.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When the complicated, vaguely disturbing black leather harness arrived, Alex began to worry. It hadn't been the first gift. Sure, he'd received gifts like those before, and it certainly wasn't odd that they be anonymous -- few movies had the Romantic Lead providing the Love Interest with clutches of beautifully arranged surgical gloves -- but... This wasn't just a crashpad, it was his *work* address. Not that there were sniggering co-workers to be concerned about, but *still*.... There were only a few people who should have known he was here, and Jeff was the only cute one. Conveniently living with him after the nasty mess with his father, too.... But Jeff was also the only one who *hadn't* eyed him like a heart patient eyes a thick, juicy steak. He hated hetboys. But that left several people he never, ever wanted to see naked. Again. Or to see him in the harness dangling from his hand, or any other harnesses for that matter. It made him wonder about all the times Papa Spender called him Alex. It made his balls want to crawl back into his body. He was positive they were *trying* to do so. The only consolation was that the old men *he* knew would just order him to bend and spread, so maybe there were just a few more rebel alien moles. He stuffed the harness into the bottom drawer of his desk and headed down to the parking garage. Another day behind the wheel followed, most of it consisting of Alex not thinking about his secret admirer, and wishing that better engineers would get involved in the lio-building process. The next day arrived with yet another box from the tasteful leather shop downtown. He swallowed hard. It *had* to be more rebel alien moles. Rebel alien moles that wanted his ass. Highlighted nicely with buttless chaps. The rest of *that* day was spent in assorted beatings, and Alex found himself looking at how the eyes of his victims swelled shut. The forcibly blind look just didn't do it for him, though, and that evening was spent in intensive ice pick practice. Nothing came the next day, which was good because the weekly meeting was held in his office. He was on tenterhooks the whole time, though. It was far, far too easy to see the hard, curious looks from all the old men. All except for the one who would be eyeing him hopefully from across the room. Maybe smiling at him. With bad, grey teeth. He came *that* close to snapping his little pointer in half and threatening to run anyone who so much as *looked* at him too long through. And then came the hotpants with the insulated codpiece for storing chocolate. Well, it only said 'candy,' but *Alex* knew what they meant. And the studded collar with monogrammed pendant. And the dildo carved into a -- mercifully mostly flattened -- caricature of Nixon. The smoker, who had yet to notice that his *arm* had grown back, commented on his jitters. Asked if he needed a vacation. Put his hand on Alex's shoulder. Alex shot him in the head, six or seven times, Jeff walking in on the fourth shot. Fortunately, Jeff was still feeling a little bitter about that attempted murder thing, though, and helped him dump the body. Which was really nice, when you thought about it. Later, while Alex was concocting plausible reasons for the smoker not to exist anymore, he asked Jeff a few leading questions about latex. The other man just scooted a little further away, though, so Alex was stuck hoping he'd shot the right guy. The arrivals of the suede flogger, home piercing kit, brightly colored lube assortment, and volume ofWalt Whitman poetry suggested he hadn't. Alex started killing everyone who got within three feet of him. The lack of consequences made him wonder why he hadn't tried this before, but some of the joy was lost with the continued deluge of presents. The Maybelline travel kit was especially painful, as were the size 13 fuck-me pumps. In purple. He really, really hated purple. And he was out of space in his desk, and storing them in the back of Jeff's little closet just earned him more looks and the other man stopped coming home at night which was depressing because killing all your business associates is a lonely-making thing. On the day the erotically streamlined defibrillator (with heart-shaped paddles) arrived, Alex sat down and cried, right in the doorway. He couldn't even wait until after he'd terrorized the delivery boy some more. Alex was very, very tired. When he heard the footsteps coming down the hall, he couldn't lift his head, and barely managed to get his gun up. He fetched a heavy sigh, and waited. And was terribly disappointed to have only a bouquet of roses -- thorns clearly visible -- shoved under his nose. "Just put it with the cock ring sampler, please." "Are you sure you don't want me to put them in this vase?" And then there was a penis-shaped porcelain vase in his face. With veins. But Alex knew that voice... He looked up slowly to find Mulder staring down at him with a criminally cheerful grin. Dammit. He really, really should have known. "Hi, Alex!" "I just have one question, Mulder." "Yes?" "How did you get this address?" "Oh, I've been stalking you for months. And then you were running around in that long, brown wig... Well, it just gave me ideas." "You've been stalking me." "Yes. And I like the wig. Do you still have the wig?" "If you were stalking me, then you know..." "That you're a lying, sadistic, arrogant prick who's living with a guy I really, really *hate*?" "Well... yeah." Mulder nodded. "I've known that for a *long* time. But something about that wig... and all that sexual *tension* in the way you look at me when I'm beating on you --" "You mean like this?" Alex put on his best smolder. Mulder licked his lips and squeezed the penis so hard it shattered in his hand. Alex winced. "Yeah... yeah, that's it right there." "Uh, huh. You know, that look was supposed to encourage you to *stop* beating on me." "Yeah, sure, whatever. Sex now?" Alex looked deep into Mulder's eyes, reveling in the lust-glazed greed. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could get the other man to say something reassuring, like that he *really* wanted him because Alex had just taken out the entire Consortium. For now, though... "Well, OK.... But no chaps." "Damn. I had those tailored --" Alex started humming to himself, stopped thinking, and closed the door behind them. ~~~~ End. ~~~~ "I'm picturing the shattered remains of human society crawling out from the rubble, only to be met with the sight of a 60 foot high flaming Jesus bearing down on them at 40 knots. " -- Spike Imajiru gave me a home! http://unicorn-x.net/te/