A/N:  I was feeling a bit down today so I thought I'd wait on the next chapter.  And then I realized, hey, what better way to cheer myself up than to write?  It worked, kinda, and hopefully it didn't adversely affect the story.  And no, my mood had nothing to do with the cancellation of DA (although that certainly didn't help any).  I'm trying not to think too much about that, otherwise, I have a feeling I might just curl into a little ball on the floor and never get up.  What am I gonna do without my Alec fix?!  Like going through the season finale (the utterly-disappointing-in-its-lack-of-Alec season finale), wasn't bad enough!  I still can't believe it.  DA was the ONLY show I watched regularly—even through the thick and thin of this last heinous semester, I managed not to miss a single episode this season.  So here's my little plea to all you writers:  don't stop writing the fanfiction!  We must sustain ourselves, as well as each other, somehow.  Take the time you need to recover from this little shock, but do please come back.  I know I will.

Friction

Chapter 14:  "… Get outta the kitchen!"

Alec was in the shower when the scent hit him, heavy and overpowering, a sweet heady sensation that made him lose track of all previous thoughts.  It was the first thing he'd smelled other himself, since just prior to his first trip into the river of stench down in the sewers.  He knew instantly what it was—pheromones.  Or, more specifically, Max's pheromones.  She was in heat, and she was nearby.

He turned off the shower and pushed aside the curtains with one hand, the other reaching for a towel.  Unconsciously, he draped it about his waist even though, had he been aware of what he was doing, he might have questioned the need for it.  He wouldn't be wearing it much longer anyway.  But he wasn't aware, his attention so singly focused on what awaited him on the other side of the wooden barrier, that he thought nothing of it.

His hand wrapped around the doorknob, and for the briefest, minutest, fraction of a second, he hesitated.  Something nagged him at the back of his mind, something that begged for his attention.  But before he could stop to examine what, he pulled the door open.

There she stood, the reason behind his sudden inability to manage a single coherent thought beyond how quickly he could get her out of those clothes.  Her face was flushed, her breath coming heavily from between slightly parted full lips, and her chest moved visibly up and down with the effort.  She stood still, back straight, arms at her sides, as if not quite sure of what to do.  But it was her eyes that drew him of all things, wide and dark, darker than usual, her desire and confusion written clearly in them.

Before he realized what he was doing, he walked toward her, stopping only when he was close enough to reach out and touch her face, which he did.  Under his fingertips, her fevered flesh burned as her name tumbled from his lips, "Max…"  A soft purr with which he almost surprised himself.  But only almost because a part of him—a purely primal part that had lain dormant within him until this moment, and urged him presently to throw her onto the bed, rip off her clothes, and plunge himself deep inside her right now—told him this was right.  This was how it was done.  The thought was confirmed at the sight of the slight shiver that wracked Max's body as he spoke.  "You're in heat."

That primal beast wanted out; it wanted to skip the words, skip the foreplay, and get right down to business.

Then she was reaching up, one small hand cradling his as it rested on her cheek, the other caressing the back of his neck, raking through his hair.  She pulled herself flush against him, every curve of her body fitting perfectly against his, and whispered, "I know."

And then the beast took over.

He attacked her mouth with his own, nearly groaning aloud when she responded just as fervently.  His hands eagerly explored her body, every dip, every curve, every soft plane, smooth surface—while hers seemed intent on doing the same.  Touching, teasing, fondling, and generally driving each other wild.

Reaching down, Alec cupped her rear and pulled her up against the length of his body, using the opportunity to take them both down to the bed.  Strong, lean legs remained wrapped around his calves as he lay atop her, trying to work off her jacket.  With a slight arch of her back, she gave him the access he so desired, and he stripped the leather coat from her, tossing it impatiently to the side.

"Max," he groaned, or tried to at least.  Her mouth sucking on his tongue made it difficult to articulate the noise.

Her restless hands ran over his shoulders, down his back, up his arms again, while his own pried up her shirt.  Smooth flesh was all he encountered along the way, and soon he found himself cupping the heavy, bare flesh that she thrust further into his grasp.  His mouth left hers with a slight mewl of protest from her, which quickly dissolved into a whimper as he kissed her navel, running his tongue over the flesh, working his way upward.  Fingers gripped his hair tightly as he found the underside of one firm breast and explored the area with his lips.

Damn, she was burning up!  All passion and desire and fire, she was—

In heat.

The thought sobered him instantly, clearing his mind enough to allow him to see just what was happening, and the wrongness of it.  She was in heat, he assumed, for the first time around another X-series.  Even if she'd realized what was happening to her, she couldn't have known what effect it would have on him.  She'd missed the sex ed lessons back at Manticore—but he hadn't.  She wasn't making this decision consciously—it was the pheromones, her genes, her breeding instinct.

If he let this happen, she'd probably hate him in the morning, regardless of whatever defense of instincts and inability to resist that he might put up.  And if she hated him, he'd have to hate himself.

Even though it was probably the single most difficult thing he'd done in his entire life, Alec pulled away.  Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then regretting it immediately as her scent assaulted his nose, he sat up.

"Alec?"

Reopening his eyes, he saw Max was staring at him, confused, aroused, and frustrated, nearly panting for breath.  Her dishevelled state was testimony to what had very nearly happened between them—usually full lips swollen further from his rough handling, velvet hair splayed on the bed around her head, and shirt riding up around her breasts, revealing the caramel flesh of their undersides.

She reached for him, trying to pull him back down but he ducked his head to escape her grasp.  "No, Max."

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him incredulously.  "No what?"

"No, we can't do this."  He released a shaky breath, "You're in heat; you don't know what—Max!"  He yelped and leapt backward as her wandering hands found their way beneath his towel and unabashedly set to exploring.  With a thud he landed on the floor at the foot of the bed, his towel fortunately still in place.

But if anything, the fall served to temporarily lift the hazy fog that had been resettling in his mind.  His resolve strengthened.  Unfortunately, it did nothing to deter Max.

While he reoriented himself from his new position on the floor, she made her way to the edge of the bed, sitting up with a leg placed on either side of him, leaning forward, elbows on her knees.  "But I want to," she said in a sultry voice, and a wicked grin uncurled on her lips.  "And I know you want to too."

They both glanced down at the tented front of his towel.  Well, of course he wanted to!  There was no even trying to deny that.  He just knew he couldn't—they couldn't.

Max dropped to her hands and knees on the floor, trapping him beneath her.  Dipping her head forward, so their lips brushed as she spoke, she said, "Come on Alec, show me just how much you want to."

"Max," he whispered, but she silenced him immediately with his lips.  He was losing himself again, in the sweet softness of her mouth, the overwhelming scent of her arousal, the sensation of her hands running over him.  "No."  He pushed her back roughly.  "We can't."

Then he flipped them so he was on top, and she on her back.  She must not have registered his words, or thought much of the strength behind them, because she smiled at the sudden change and didn't resist as he push her hands above her head, pinning them there while he dragged the sheets off the nicely made bed.  Realization dawned in her eyes as he separated a thin cotton spread from the rest, twisted it rapidly, and then draped it about both wrists.

She wriggled slightly beneath him, and Alec bit his lip to keep from moaning aloud.  Attempting to slip her hands from out of his, she said, "Like your girls tied up... kinky.  However, I like to keep my hands free—to explore and whatnot."

He immediately tightened his grip and knotted the sheet quickly with an impressive twist he knew would be next to impossible for her to undo without help.  Then he took the other end and wrapped it through the low brass rail at the end of the bed.

Eyes narrowing, Max bit out harshly, "Alec."  She tested the strength of the sheet and glared up at him.

"Sorry Max," he groaned, and he truly was.  "But we just can't do this."  Sorrier than she'd ever know.  "And if we don't stop now, we won't be able to stop period."

He stood abruptly, pulling himself away from her tempting body, trying to ignore just how tantalizing she looked, just how much she wanted him—as much as he wanted her.  "Alec," she moaned.  "Who said we had to stop at all?"

He was doing the right thing.

But I'd rather be doing her.

Groaning again and running a hand over his face, he pushed the thought aside.  He decided ignoring her was the best and safest option.  Glancing around the room, he quickly located the clothes she had bought him and scrambled toward them.

"Alec!"  Max was still trying to gain his attention, but he was adamant in his decision not to hear her.  He yanked on the dark cargoes, pulling them up beneath the towel before removing the protective piece of cloth.  Next came his shirt, then socks and shoes, which he fumbled with several times before succeeding.

Dontthink, dontthink, dontthink.  Just get the hell outta this room! Finally, he was dressed, and although it took only a few seconds, it felt like forever.  He looked toward the door and then froze. To get to the door, he would first be required to walk by Max.  And walking by Max was a bad, bad idea.  Any attempt to do so would probably end with him on top of her, ridding both of them of their clothes.  That was exactly what he didn't want to do.

But what other choice did he have?  The only way out of this room was through the door or the window—

The window.  He glanced toward it.  They were on the first floor—it'd be easy enough.  All he needed was the key to get back in.  But where was the key?  Where would Max have put it?  He looked down thoughtfully to ponder the question, and then there—there it was.  Right at his feet.

Grinning slightly, in relief, Alec reached down and picked it up.  "I'll be right back," he told Max, opening the window.

"What are you doing?  Where are you going?" she demanded frantically.

"Don't worry, I'll be back soon," he assured, climbing through the opening and heading through the parking lot.

"Alec!  Get your ass back in here and finish what you started!"  For an instant, he turned and began to walk back to the room, intent on doing just as she'd instructed.  But somehow, he managed to snap himself back to his senses, or what little he had left of them.

While attempt to subtly readjust his pants, both for comfort and reasons relating to public decency, he quickly ran to his destination, the nearest payphone.  As he reached the booth, he snatched up the receiver with great relief.

Shit!  He'd forgotten his wallet back in the room—no change.  Well, there was no way in hell he could go back there to get it, so instead he dialed zero and waited for the operator to connect him.

C'mon Cindy, please be home, please be home, please be— "'Lo?"

"Will you accept a collect call from…"

"OC, it's me.  I need you!"

"Yeah, I take it," the familiar voice drawled.  After the operator had disconnected, leaving the pair to speak, she continued, "Hey sugah, you know Original Cindy don't play on that side o' the fence."

"What?" he asked distractedly.  It was getting stronger, the unbearable, instinctual need creeping up on him.  He didn't have much longer left.  "No, not like… it's Max."

Abruptly, her tone changed from light playful banter to serious.  "What?  What about Max?"

"Uh…" he stuttered, turning to stare at the motel, picturing her in his mind—lying there, waiting for him, waiting for him to take her—

OC's irritated voice cut off his thought sequence.  "Boy, if something's up with my boo, you bettah tell me right now.  I ain't foolin'."

Well, it wasn't exactly the easiest thing to tell someone.  "It's um, well…" he began uncomfortably.

"Alec."  Beyond the warning tone to her voice was the fact that she'd called him Alec—something she rarely ever did.

"It's Max she's in heat and if you don't get here right away…" he burst out in a rush, then paused to let out a groan.  "If you don't get over here soon, I can't make any promises."

There was a slight pause at the other end of the line.  "You gonna take advantage of my girl while she's in her situation?" she asked darkly.

"No," he defended quickly, "I would never take advantage of her.  It's just, well," he let out a brief sigh, "Manticore made both of us with that feline DNA…"

"And your DNA's reactin' to hers," Cindy completed with dawning understanding.

He placed his forehead against the dingy surface of the little booth.  "God, OC," he breathed, "I can smell her even from here… I'm so hard I—"

"That's enough," she interrupted hastily.  "Damn, that's more than enough.  Where y' at?"  Alec told her.  "Aiight.  I be there as soon as I can.  You just don't go do nothin' crazy 'n regrettable."

He nodded his head, a useless gesture, but his mind was beyond comprehending such minute details at this point.  "Hurry… please."

"As soon as I can," she assured.  Then she hung up the phone, and when the dial tone eventually came on, he followed suit.  Closing his eyes, he continued to lean against the wall of the booth.

In the name of every good man has ever conceived of, please let her be here soon.

TBC

A/A/N:  Hopefully, a none-too-predictable turn of events.