Absolute Alliterative Anarchy
by Lysandra

E-mail:  Lysandra31@aol.com or Lysandra@mediaone.net
Classification:  H; MSR; PWP
Rating:  NC-17
Spoilers:  Not a one.
Summary:  Alliterative anarchy, what else?
Disclaimer:  Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and
Twentieth Century Fox.  This blasphemous little ditty, in addition to being out
of character and too wacky for words, nets me absolutely no profit.
Distribution:  No, please don't archive this, it's far too embarrassing.
Notes:  Thanks (or blame) goes to Jill Selby, who set forth the Scullyfic
challenge and probably now regrets it immensely.  We were asked to write 5
sentences, all alliterative, preferably with some story; extra kudos for the
longest sentence or sentences starting with a letter which would get you lots of
points in Scrabble.  And it had to be X-Files related.  (I think I won, but it's
quite possible that everyone else canceled their Scullyfic subscriptions after
reading this...)


Absolute Alliterative Anarchy

"Female fellatio feeding frenzies feel fucking fabulous, ferile felonious
fucker," Fox finally, fiendishly fantasized.  "For fucking, Femme Fatale, Fox
finds floors fine; for fellatio, Fox finds featherbeds fairly felicitous; first,
fetch Fox's fife, fascinatingly fit for female folds."

"Sit still, Sugar," Scully sparred sexily, somehow silently slithering
Southward, snagging some specially soft Sears spun silk sheets, "Someone's
suffering some saccadic sac sabotage; such semi-rigidity should stop," she
speculated, "so surely some smutty sucking should soothe such suspicious
spermatic softness."

"My, my, my, mademoiselle; magnificent manners!" manacled Mulder managed
manipulatively, moaning methodically, maybe meaning more, maybe meaning mush,
"methinks my machinating mistress might miss me most madly."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the territorial task-oriented tragicomical titian-tinted
topless temptress tersely trilled, timely tackling the tall, tethered,
tormented, tantalizingly tranquilized, tamed taboo terrain, tactilely
trespassing, titillatingly tickling too-thin toes to tasty tibias, trailing
tight thighs to tingling tailbone, traveling to throbbing thrusting testicles,
touring torso to thumbtips, traversing throat tissue to trachea, tracing temples
to tongue to titanium-tinted teeth, tampering tactlessly the tangible tenor
treat, tongue tasting testosterone, toothpaste, torrid transforming
togetherness; triumphant, the tiny, talkative troublemaker teasingly trifled:
"To truly truss *this* trusting tattooed team-player, try tweaking the turgid
twat, Tiger; twist the twitching tampon taffy ... tell the truth - this
tete-a-tete teaches trust, true?"

Dana, drowsily, dewily drinking diabolical daylight, didn't dare dawdle;
dexterously, daintily drawing decorative drapes, Dana distantly, disconsolately
directed, "Damn, dormancy doesn't disappoint; dreams do drench, don't dey?"


Lysandra's notes:  
OK, I cheated with one measly word there at the end.... so sue me!!  And yes,
I'm hiding my head in shame over this.  I almost posted under a pseudonym.  And
no, this was not beta read, so I'm solely at fault.