S/K NC-17 La challenged me to write "any weather conditions--any situation--just a dark alley, Krycek and Scully and hot monkey luv". However could I resist? JAZZ by alanna +++++ Music filled the air. Jazz, perhaps. His breathing picked up the tempo. Hers joined in as his nails -- all sharp, jagged edges -- broke her skin through the thin shirt's barrier. The music wasn't cohesive, nor was she, flying apart at his touch. He was already shattered -- assymetrical and torn. A fake arm would be too real in this moment when her worst enemy pressed her against a brick wall and tore her to pieces with feral teeth and rabid passion. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I am fucking Krycek senseless, and good God I love it. The humid night-haze made the scene unreal. Green eyes flashed lust as he inhaled her silk shirt. She tugged at their clothes before sinking down on him with the force of a sax hitting low e-flat. The far-off singer's voice became a siren wail as the not-quite-lovers climaxed. The club's patrons applauded. Scully laughed and caught her breath. +++++ End (1/1) Word has weird counting methods -- if this is technically NOT 157 words, well, I did my best. al +++++alanna++++ http://alanna.net "You have a deathwish. How selfish. I have one too, but I direct it toward others." --"The Opposite of Sex"