Alec had never wanted to fall asleep so badly in his entire life.

There'd been numerous times he wanted desperately to stay awake. In Psy-Ops, while they poked and probed and prodded and mind-fucked him repeatedly into submission for days and months on end, he struggled to keep awake just to ensure he would know and remember everything they had done to him.

Even younger, he had feigned sleeping at lights out when the guards came around. He'd wait until their 3AM rounds and sneak out to conduct business until the morning rounds. He made a lot of money running jobs.

He had especially tried to stay awake the night before the Berrisford job. He knew he had loved Rachel, even if he didn't have a name for the feeling, and he knew he'd be eliminated if he didn't follow through. He had spent the night conflicted and trying to think of a way out of it – to give Manticore what it wanted while letting the Berrisfords live.

But two nights ago, in the early hours in which he used to conduct business, in which he sometimes dreamt about the horrible things Psy-Ops had done to him, or about the terrible things he'd done to others, he felt someone climbing into his bed, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Max clawing her way up to him, straddling him in the process, and giving him an intolerably hungry stare he hoped was very much not a dream.

"Max?" he asked, unsure if he believed what he was seeing was a dream.

She seemed to wiggle in place, applying warm pressure to his lap. His mouth fell open in surprise and he held his breath, waiting to see what she was going to do.

She seemed to slink the rest of the way up his body with her head down like a hunting wildcat. She locked her moonlight eyes on his, inched up to his face, and placed her soft lips on his.

Alec brought his hands up to the sides of her arms and pushed at them a little, breaking their kiss. Max sat back against him for a moment and stared into him before removing her shirt.

Alec gave her a slightly concerned look meant to ask what she was doing – or more to the point – why she was doing it, but when that look was met with a heated stare, he felt his heartbeat quicken and his blood rush madly through his veins.

When their lips touched again, it was with purpose and undeniable want, and led to a symphony of breaths and moans.

At Jam Pony the next day, it seemed to be business as usual, with either transgenic not speaking of the previous night's events.

Sketchy sauntered in and approached the dispatch desk where Normal seemed to be in a generous mood, judging by the stacks of packages he was handing to a very tired-looking Alec.

"You look like you were rode hard and put away wet," he commented, thinking his friend probably had some sordid details or sarcastic innuendo in response.

You have no idea, Alec thought. He snuck a furtive glance to Max and turned back to Sketch with a smile. "Yeah, I'm just tired," he said. Which is true, he added mentally. No way could he ever tell Sketchy about Max and live to see another day.

"You coming down with something?" Normal asked worriedly. He tried to raise a hand to Alec's forehead, but Alec spun around too quickly. "Just let me know if you need to go home and I'll assign your drops to one of your miscreant coworkers."

"I got it," Alec called over his shoulder as he headed out.

He spent the better part of his day distracted and trying to decide how he should proceed with Max, if at all. He remembered her breath on his neck as she slept, limbs tangled with his. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the exact scent of her hair. He remembered the next morning how he had asked if she would be back, and how breathily she had said she would be back in his dreams. How she had said it, though… it wasn't sarcastic.

This time, it was almost 3AM and he was wide awake, waiting. Waiting to hear the door knob turn; waiting to hear the soft footsteps of a sneak; waiting to feel her as she kneaded her way up his chest, waiting to feel her breath hitch at his throat as she sunk down onto him.