October 1, 2005

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Like a knife

—and I'm inside him, buried deep in the sweet heat of him; he makes a throaty noise, a soft grunt, an expression of satisfaction and anticipation. It cuts like a knife, that little noise, and I close my eyes against the sudden sting. I used to think the sound that cut deepest into my heart was the light jagged cry of the swift, a summer sunset sound that calls up senseless nostalgia, evokes memories I'd rather avoid of places where I can never go back. But I realize now that it's been replaced, easily and completely, by any and every sound made by Fox Mulder when we're—

"Alex," he says, and it tears me apart.

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