TITLE: Slave to Love M/K (01/03) (Alexian Nights Challenge)
DATE: 25th July 1999
E-MAIL ADRESS: TarlanX@aol.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Gossamer - yes. Archive/X - Yes. Ter/ma
- yes. Elsewhere please ask
SPOILER WARNING: Small one for Terma.
CONTENT WARNING: If the idea of two beautiful men sharing themselves
physically isn't your scene then don't bother reading on - you
know where the DELETE key is. You have been warned.
SUMMARY: Set anytime after Red and the Black.
COMMENTS: This is my response to the 'Alexian Nights' challenge.
Any inconsistencies, factual inaccuracies etc belong to Alex...
Hey, it's *his* story after all! Thanks, as always, to Aqualegia
for all the encouragement, advice, and beta reading. Any and all
comments gratefully received so long as they're constructive.
Please, please feed me!!!! Flames will be met with derision so
don't waste your time.
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Alex Krycek and all other X-Files regulars
belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and FOX Television.
No copyright infringement intended. Any characters you haven't
heard of before are copyrighted to me.
Slave To Love by Tarlan
Alex Krycek stared at the man seated opposite, his tongue slipping
out to moisten dry lips as his gaze dropped to the loaded gun
aimed at his belly. He had been so stupid to think he could enter
this apartment a second time and still catch him unawares. Somehow
or other he had been expected and now he was at the mercy of a
man who bore the sort of love/hate attitude towards him that could
mean life or death depending on how he performed.
"Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Then you can begin...
and if it fails to please then..." The man caressed the trigger,
raising the gun slowly.
Krycek dropped slowly to the overstuffed chair, perching himself
near the edge. He knew what was expected of him, knew what the
other man wanted to hear but could he deliver under these circumstances.
To be honest there was no other option if he wanted to escape
this with his life. He closed his eyes, trying to focus and organise
his thoughts enough to allow a glimmer of an idea to coalesce.
Then he took a deep breath and began.
The air held a strange quality of warmth mingled with anticipation,
as if heavy with a knowledge of things to come. Before him, the
field was golden and he could see many of the men and women of
the Village, young and old alike, quickly gathering in the harvest
before the rainstorms came. Without this crop they would starve
through the winter months. It would make their bread, feed the
livestock and, bartered with neighbouring villages, would bring
supplies of other necessities. He sighed, wishing his older brothers
had allowed him to accompany them on the hunting trip, but they
insisted his place was in the field helping to bring in the crop...
maybe next year... when he reached 15 years of age.
The young boy aimed a chagrined smile towards his older sister,
Anastasia, and hefted the bale by his feet onto the back of the
cart. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.
One of the women at the far end of the field had straightened
up, her body turned towards the brow of the hill... and then he
heard it, the sound of thunder. He gazed up at the sky in bewilderment.
The clouds were thicker than usual, but not yet heavy with rain.
The woman cried out suddenly, her body turning fast as she started
to run towards them. Anastasia grabbed her young brother's shoulders,
her face contorted in fear.
"Alexei! Run to the village as fast as you can... warn father.
It's the Horde."
She shook him once to bring him out of shock, and then he was
running, his arms pushing their way through the waist-high wheat
crop. Behind him the thunder grew louder but he resisted the temptation
to look back... it would slow him down. Adrenaline pumped through
his veins, his heart raced and his feet pummelled the ground.
Ahead he could see the outskirts of the village; his lungs were
fit to burst yet he managed to fill them enough to shout the warning.
For a split second, that seemed to his blood-deprived mind like
a lifetime, the Villagers became statues, frozen in place by shock...
and then everything changed. Screams and shouts were raised; women
grabbed small children as the men reached for pitchforks, scythes,
and any other possible weapon.
As Alexei collapsed against the nearest hut, desperately trying
to draw breath into his abused lungs, the first of the Horde arrived.
The horse jumped over the meagre wall surrounding the village,
its rider already slashing at the men who leapt forward to stop
him. Screams and the scent of blood filled the air. Alexei's own
cry joined them as he watched the sword of the second attacker
tear the axe from his father's hand. The backward follow-through
opened his father's body from sternum to hip. He raced forward
as two of the villagers brought down the horse and rider, plunging
a small hand-knife into the attacker's chest.
Alexei grabbed the sword and tried to wield it as another horseman
sped towards him, but his youth and inexperience could not match
the force of the clash and it was sent spinning from his hand.
He held his breath as he awaited the same fate as his father,
watching in fascinated horror as the blade swept towards him...
It was a sudden jarring that brought him back to consciousness;
the wheel of the enclosed wagon dipped into a pothole in the man-made
track. His eyes opened into darkness as his body felt the odd,
yet almost rhythmic, jerking. The night air seemed cold despite
the warmth of the bodies pressed close to his own.
"Where are we?"
Alexei recognised the voice of his next elder brother.
"Nikolai? Where are we? What's happened?"
Another voice answered from the other side.
"The Horde destroyed the village. We're on the road to slavery."
Alexei swallowed hard. "Father's dead."
"What about Boris and Pyetr?"
"I don't know... they were with the hunt."
"Anastasia? Nikita? Valerie?... Mother and the little ones?"
"They're in the other wagons... except for Anastasia... but
I wish they had all died."
An arm went around his shoulder and Alexei turned his face into
the comforting embrace of his brother.
The wagons trundled on into the late afternoon as if trying to
put as much distance, in as short a time as possible, between
themselves and the village. No one brought them any food or water.
Eventually the call to halt was heard and the men and boys in
the wagon murmured softly in trepidation. The cover was ripped
back and a greasy looking man, dressed in dark leather, with long
straggling hair, ushered them into the open.
Alexei held onto his brother's arm as they watched the approach
of a man whose bearing claimed him to be the Leader. He stopped
and gazed along the line of men and boys, a cruel smile lifting
the corners of his mouth as he spied the two brothers. He pointed
to Alexei... and seconds later, Alexei found himself shoved forward.
The massive warrior grasped Alexei's hands and turned them over
with a slight grimace. The boy had obviously been set to work
in the fields. He paused as if in thought, then turned his head
towards the huddled group of women and children, his dark brown
eyes alighting on a woman clasping a small child and a baby.
"Is that your mother?"
Alexei glanced quickly at his brother for advice, then nodded.
It was fairly obvious that they were related. His mother had come
from a more distant village, her long tresses of sable hair and
vivid green eyes so different from the blonder, blue- eyed look
of the other villagers. Alexei shared her traits, even to the
softer planes of his face with its higher cheekbones and narrower
chin. In comparison, Nikolai was blonder but the features and
those green eyes were the same.
"Bring her forward."
He waited as the woman was dragged before him.
"You will tend to your son. Oil him. Pay particular attention
to his hands, feet, knees and elbows. I want his skin soft and
supple... calluses removed. This one will fetch a good price."
Alexei was dragged away with his mother and youngest siblings
in tow, but he heard the Leader's following words as the warrior
chief's attention turned to Nikolai.
"Too old... but he will serve me well until we get..."
The remainder of the journey passed slowly and in misery. His
older brother's cries filled the camp that night, the cries gradually
giving way to sobs and then silence. Alexei could only clench
his fists in frustration as he wondered what vile things the warrior
chief did to make his brother cry out. Over the next few days
he would catch glimpses of Nikolai; his eyes deadened by pain
and despair, as he fetched food and water for the Chief.
Eventually the rolling green hills gave way to a large plain of
scrubby grassland, and the following day the wagon train halted
beside the largest expanse of water Alexei had ever seen. It seemed
to stretch on forever. There was an ominous murmuring around him
and Alexei knew that the first part of their journey was over...
and, instinctively, he realised that this might be the last time
he saw his family. That night he clung to his mother and younger
siblings, trying to be the strong one, as her tears soaked through
his soft cotton tunic.
"Mother. I *will* find you... all of you... I promise. We
will be together again."
His mother raised her head and brushed a lock of soft, mahogany
hair from her child's face. She wanted to tell him the truth...
that the chance of them all being together again in this life
was non-existent. She wanted to tell him not to waste his life
in any foolish quest. She wanted him to live... and be happy but
she knew her words would fall on deaf ears so she kissed his cheeks
and held him close.
The following day came and went too quickly. They arrived at a
busy port and within hours he had seen his sisters sold, then
his mother, still clasping little Nastassia and two-year old Mikhail
close to her body. He memorised the faces and names of the opulent
men and women who exchanged money with the slimy slave auctioneer
before leading them away. Alexei waited as the older men and boys
were placed on the block. He saw friends and neighbours sold and
herded off... he watched Nikolai, head bowed in defeat, being
manhandled before a price was reached and sobbed as the last of
his family was taken out of sight. Then came his turn.
Alexei was pulled forward, head held high in defiance, staring
directly ahead over the crowd, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge
the greedy eyes that mapped his young flesh as his tunic was removed,
leaving him naked to their gaze. He ignored the hands that groped
him, checking his teeth, running fingers through his hair and
stroking his skin; feeling along his muscles the way his father
would check out a piece of livestock before agreeing a price.
Yes... that was what he was... livestock. His lips trembled momentarily
as the full extent of his position came crashing down on him.
He barely heard the shouts that flowed thick and fast but, all
too soon, the hammer fell, and he was being led away. His fate
had been determined.
Alexei groaned again with the rocking and rolling motion of the
small boat. Three days had passed since he had been led onboard
and chained to the wooden wall below deck with a dozen other boys
of various ages and colouring. Next to him lay Gregor, a boy from
his village, who was four years younger. The boy had clung to
him the same way he had held onto Nikolai... afraid to be separated
even for a moment. A thumping noise and the sound of raised voices
heralded the next stage of his journey, his 'master' appeared,
unlocked the chain, and led all the boys up on deck.
Alexei's green eyes widened at the desolate sight that greeted
him. Gone were the luscious green fields and scrubby grasslands.
Instead, the ground seemed hard-baked and devoid of life; the
dust clogged up his sandals.
They were led, still chained together, towards the centre of the
town. It was then that Alexei realised, with growing horror, that
his fate had not yet been determined after all as he, Gregor,
and the other boys were sent to the slave auction block once more.
His 'master' of a few short days seemed extremely pleased with
the bidding; rubbing his obscenely fat, jewel encrusted, hands
together as the shouting increased until...
Alexei felt his heart freeze over as the last familiar face of
his childhood was dragged away, the wail from Gregor sealing in
As the years passed Alexei was sold from one brothel to another,
as his face, and body, matured beyond the interest of the clientele
of each establishment. He barely remembered his early initiation
into the life of a catamite. Yet he recalled all too clearly the
punishments that had followed his various escape attempts. Over
time, the hard life had taken its toll, stripping him of his dignity
and innocence. His life before seemed like the product of some
misty, half-remembered dream; the faces of his beloved mother
and siblings gradually fading despite his attempts to keep them
in his mind.
Seventeen years passed as the man-child grew into adulthood, still
as beautiful, yet missing the lively spirit that used to dance
in the sea green eyes.
M'hadra sighed as he gazed upon the slave. The temptation to keep
Alexei was strong... he could use him to train the new boys that
were bought every so often but, as a whore, his usefulness had
come to an end. The men who frequented the brothel were rarely
interested in the older slaves, preferring much younger flesh.
Yet Alexei had outlasted many of these... his unblemished ivory
skin, dark hair cascading over a tall forehead and green eyes,
framed in long dark lashes, captivating many a client even before
they saw the strong athletic body with its long legs and perfectly
formed ass. However, calls for his service had lessened until
he was barely earning his upkeep.
"Alexei. You've been sold."
M'hadra looked deep into the green eyes, his own trying not to
betray the sadness he felt at this parting but the recent offer
for this slave had been more than handsome. He felt Alexei deserved
to know a little of his fate as the 'boy' had given him much pleasure
over the years.
"Your new master will treat you kindly... I have been assured
of that. He is a man of great wealth and influence... a prince
among his people who requires a man-servant to attend to him."
Alexei nodded his head, inwardly annoyed at his gratitude. He
had seen so many of the older boys, and men, sold to less discriminating
brothels; where pain, humiliation, and death were the end result....
Or sent into the mines and gravel pits where their bodies, softened
by the years in the brothels, were unable to cope with the hard
labour. They lasted not much longer. A small smile touched his
lips. Perhaps this new master would be less lenient with his slaves.
Maybe he would be able to 'earn' the man's trust enough to escape
and fulfil the promise he had made to his mother all those years
"Your new master will collect you in two hours." M'hadra
stepped forward and pulled the unresisting body into his arms,
his mouth latching onto Alexei's throat before gliding his tongue
towards one perfect ear. "Enough time for one last taste..."
Alexei closed his eyes as the obscenely fat fingers dove beneath
his light tunic, years of experience keeping the shudders of disgust
at bay, as the large flabby stomach flopped against his own lean
flesh. Quickly, he reached down to search for the small, near-flaccid
penis that would be hidden within the rolls of fat, anxious to
complete the actual act as fast as possible.
Two hours later he stood at the entranceway, clothed only in a
light tunic and a pair of worn sandals. His ass was still tingling
from M'hadra's attention and with the annoying, but all too familiar,
sensation of what little semen he had not been able to bathe away
gradually slicking the inside of his ass cheeks.
The door opened and a man stepped through, pausing momentarily
to stare at the slave waiting just inside the doorway. Alexei
looked up quickly and a pair of green-gold eyes captured his gaze.
He lowered his face, shocked by the blush that heated his face
so unexpectedly. So rarely did he react to any man and, for one
tiny moment, Alexei fervently wished that he were not awaiting
a new master so that he might have the chance to seduce this new
The man chuckled and moved passed him. Moments later Alexei heard
M'hadra talking to someone, his slimy tone of deference making
it obvious that a representative of Alexei's new master had finally
arrived to collect his new slave. Alexei waited patiently, head
bowed as the man came to stand before him. He missed the small
smile of satisfaction that was aimed at him... and he missed the
slight upturn of the slightly too big nose as the man leant forward.
A soft monotone drifted across towards his former master.
"I see you took one final pleasure."
Alexei glanced up; his eyes widening as he recognised the handsome
man with the hazel eyes that he had assumed was a client. M'hadra
grimaced, wringing his sweaty hands together, afraid that he might
have spoiled the deal in his lust to possess that beautiful body
one last time.
"No matter... he was still your slave until..."
The tall man with light brown hair tumbling across his forehead
offered a small leather pouch that was seized by the brothel keeper.
M'hadra tipped the coins out onto his palm, counting quickly.
He smiled, pleased that there had been no attempt to short-change
him and then snapped his fingers. One of the house servants came
forward and handed him a piece of parchment which M'hadra dutifully
handed over to the well-dressed figure that stood before him.
"Deeds of Ownership."
M'hadra watched as Alexei was led away, strangely saddened and
annoyed that his former slave never looked back, giving him no
opportunity to gaze one last time on that beautiful face.
Krycek glanced up into an enraptured expression.
His captor had leant forward, a kindling lust evident in the tightness
at the crotch of the man's trousers as he recognised the new,
familiar figure that had entered the story. The scene was now
set for what he *wanted* to hear. He cocked his head at the storyteller,
a flick of his wrist indicating that he was impatient for Krycek
to continue. A smile curved his lips when it became apparent that
Krycek *was* going to go on and he leant back slightly to ease
the slight discomfort of his growing erection. This was far better
than watching porno tapes and old movies.
He reached forward for the means to appease his habit and then
settled himself back into the couch to await the sound of that
husky, oh so sexy voice as Krycek continued on with the 'story'.
Days passed, and Alexei rarely saw the man who had paid for him,
let alone his new master. He had been told that the Prince was
travelling within the large caravan and he had seen the large,
majestic, tent raised each evening, but had yet to be brought
before him. When he did catch sight of the Prince's servant it
was usually out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look
at him, the man quickly moved away. Alexei frowned. He had seen
that look on a man's face many times... desire... hunger... and
he knew it was aimed at him. He sighed. If only he was not a slave,
then, maybe he might have had the chance to walk up to that intriguing
figure and offer himself.
Alexei gasped slightly. What was he thinking? He had spent more
than half his life being abused and used by other men for their
pleasure. How could he want to offer himself willingly for more?
How had those hazel eyes, and that soft voice, cracked the ice
around his heart so swiftly... with just a look and a small chuckle?
This was pure madness... but he felt the pull towards that man
with every part of his being. He longed to feel those long fingers
stroking his hair, that luscious mouth, with its full bottom lip,
licking and sucking his skin...
Madness!!! But such sweet madness.
Another night passed uneventfully and Alexei was pleased to note
that his duties remained very light, but, more importantly, that
the path the caravan followed was northward, away from the desert
and into the richness of the Tigris valley. Sand and scrubby grass
gradually gave way to lush vegetation and then they were within
sight of one of the greatest rivers in the 'civilised' world.
He remembered being told that he had sailed down this river after
being sold for the third or fourth time.
According to the other servants and slaves, they would turn east
and follow one of the many tributaries into Persia, then go north
until he would reach the great Caspian Sea for the first time
in seventeen years.
Later that day the caravan drew to a halt beside the wide river.
Alexei watched the small boats drift along while the tents were
erected. A noise to his left brought him about.
"The Prince wishes to see you tonight. I must prepare you."
Alexei nodded his head and followed the old woman to the servants'
tent. There he was bathed in sweet-scented water, his short hair
cleaned and his body scrubbed until it was soft; all the sand
and dried, dead skin removed. Scented oils were massaged into
his flesh until he had a slight gleam about him. He was helped
into a short, light, tunic and gilded sandals and then led towards
the large tent at the centre of the camp.
The heavy curtains covering the entrance were pulled back by two
burly guards as he approached, and he was ushered into its opulent
interior. Alexei felt his mouth drop open at the sight of the
considerable amount of wealth displayed so casually. Thick Persian
carpets covered the floor, soft and lush beneath his feet. Silken
drapes hung from every wall, obscuring the rough tent material.
A low table with elaborately scrolled legs and a filigree top
of the finest detail was placed just to one side. Upon it was
a beautiful golden jug, encrusted with rubies and emeralds, and
two matching goblets. Scattered around the table were thick cushions
of azure, green, red, and orange.
The servant who had accompanied him poured a small amount of wine
into each of the goblets and handed one to the dark-haired slave,
before leaving the tent. Alexei brought the goblet to his lips;
his eyes widening in appreciation as the honeyed wine flowed into
A slight breeze through the still open entrance fluttered the
heavy damask curtains that screened off another portion of the
tent... the sleeping area and for one moment he could make out
a thick base of soft cushions and silk coverings... and the outline
of a tall, lean figure. Alexei replaced the goblet on the low
These curtains were parted suddenly and he found himself staring
at the man who had paid for him. The heavy desert cloak had been
removed revealing the lithe, athletic frame that he remembered
so well. The long, silk-clad, legs stretched endlessly beneath
firm buttocks. A matching tunic of shimmering gold hugged the
man's torso, tapering in at the waist to a wide cummerbund of
cerulean blue silk.
Krycek halted as the sound of an in-drawn breath filled the room,
strangely pleased that his description had provided enough to
form an image that could elicit such a response. He watched as
the free hand reached down to rub over the impressive erection,
but the gun, in the other hand, barely wavered.
He took a deep breath and continued, knowing that he held his
audience of one in the palm of his only hand.
Eventually, Alexei's eyes reached the seldom seen, yet well- remembered,
face. His breathing quickening as he recognised the desire that
burned in the green-gold eyes, as the Prince mapped the face and
body of his slave. Alexei had seen that look on a hundred faces
but never had he craved such attention until this moment. There
was something in the air, a crackling, like static before a storm,
and he believed he would see the physical lightening flash between
them if should reach out towards that electric figure. Alexei
knew he was blushing... could feel the heat in his cheeks and
swallowed against the sudden dryness of his mouth, his tongue
peeking out to add what little moisture remained to his tingling,
A sudden in-drawn breath from his Master at this erotic act brought
forth a smile, and he stood still as long fingers reached out
to undo the clasp that held his tunic at the shoulder. The light,
silken cloth fluttered to the floor, pooling around his feet,
leaving him naked.
His Master drifted fingers across the strong torso of his new
acquisition, surprised at the softness of the silky skin. Short,
well-manicured nails scraped lightly over one nipple bringing
it to a hardened peak. Then the hand snaked slowly downwards,
across the flat stomach, into the amazingly soft dark hair that
gradually thickened as it led the hand from navel to groin. There,
nesting against the thick, sable curls rose his slave's aroused
flesh, its uncut head so much in contrast to his own.
A moan spilled from the luscious lips as the Master stroked along
the length of the silken shaft, following the path of the throbbing
vein upward where he gently pushed back the foreskin to reveal
the flushed head. A small pearl of pre-cum glistened at the tip
and he smoothed it over the head, eliciting yet another soft moan.
He leant forward and took his slave's mouth with his own, his
tongue pushing apart the lips and revelling in the sweet honeyed
taste of wine. His nostrils flared as the scent of fragrant oil
assailed his senses, yet he could still sense the more heady underlying
musk of the younger man who filled his arms.
Hands stroked along his sides, gently, almost unobtrusively, as
if waiting for permission to apply a bolder touch to the firm
body. Prince Fox smiled into the open kiss and then pulled away.
His smile grew brighter as he detected the slight trembling in
his slave's hands, pleased that the years of servitude had not
deadened the younger man's own desires. As his tunic was pushed
aside the slave licked and bit at the exposed flesh, dragging
delicious moans from his master. Once fully naked they tumbled
together onto the pile of thick cushions, their mouths crushing
together in ardent need. Hip grinding against hip, their erections
bumped and slid along each other's length, each touch sending
renewed flickers of electricity racing through their nerve endings,
igniting their minds and bodies as they burned for each other.
The Prince pulled away and reached out, his hand clasping around
the body of a small bottle. He poured the scented oil over his
fingers, replaced the bottle and then gently urged his slave to
turn over onto his stomach.
Deft fingers stroked between his ass cheeks, rubbing across the
small puckered muscle in tantalising patterns until Alexei found
his own voice, deep and husky with need, begging for a firmer
touch. His pleas were answered as a finger sank into him and he
tightened himself around the invader to prevent its escape. As
the other hand trailed along his back from shoulder to ass a soft
voice whispered sweet promises. Alexei lessened his grip and allowed
the finger to sink deeper. He moaned its sudden loss but gasped
in pleasure as a second and then a third finger entered, each
gliding into his body with strong, firm strokes, caressing the
delicate inner tissue and scraping across that secret centre sending
spikes of pleasure throughout his body with each and every touch.
He sobbed again as the fingers were removed, but allowed the warm
hands on his hips to guide him up and back until he could feel
a blunt, firm pressure against the relaxed muscle. Years of experience...
both painful and pleasurable... told him what to expect, yet never
had he wanted so much to be filled. With a suddenness that elicited
a shocked gasp from his lover, Alexei pushed back, impaling himself
fully upon the thick shaft.
They froze together, enjoying the sensation of filling and being
filled and then, by unspoken mutual agreement, they began a slow
Alexei sighed as each stroke caressed that special place, sending
him higher and higher, his muscles clenching against the pure
pleasure that suffused his whole being.
Behind him the Prince moaned as the muscles tightened along his
length, squeezing and rubbing the sensitive nub at the tip. One
hand reached around and grasped the thick, firm shaft of his bedmate...
one small, still functioning, part of his mind grateful the younger
man had not been castrated to make him less aggressive... as so
many were. Alexei was so beautiful in so many ways that it would
have been criminal to destroy that perfection.
He felt the body beneath him move faster, urging him onward and
cried out as he felt the muscles clench impossibly tight around
his hard, swollen flesh, milking the seed from his body even as
he felt his slave's creamy jism cover his hand.
They collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs and the Prince kissed
the nape of his slave's neck with a tenderness that expanded to
fill the lonely places within his soul. He drew away from the
strong, younger body and waited, his eyes widening as he realised
Alexei had drifted into a pleasure sated sleep.
Prince Fox sat up and gazed wondrously upon the sleeping figure.
His fingers carded through the sweat-soaked hair, pushing aside
the bangs that spilled across the tall forehead. His mind supplied
the image of those beautiful green eyes lying beneath closed lids
rimmed with thick, long dark lashes that fanned across the high
cheekbones. Everything about his slave seemed inappropriately
delicate, from the upturn of the nose to the elfin shape of the
slightly pointed ears, adding an ethereal quality to the angelic
Prince Fox pulled back guiltily; closing his eyes as the image
of another man filled his mind. What he had done was wrong. His
sole reason for making his journey northwards was to deliver this
particular slave to his friend and companion of so many years.
He thought about the man that waited, unknowingly, at the end
of this journey... a man so alike and yet so unlike the beautiful
creature that had lain in his arms. Pyetr. Would Pyetr understand?
Was there such a thing as love at first sight?
Prince Fox sat up and stared into the darkening recesses of the
What of Alexei? He had brought him to his tent this evening to
talk to him... not to seduce him. He had wanted to know if this
*was* the brother Pyetr had been searching for.... And, if yes,
he wanted to know whether the years of slavery, being used and
abused physically, mentally, and sexually, had killed the vibrant
spirit that his friend so lovingly described from his memory of
those long years before the Horde had destroyed his village and
torn his family apart.
Fox gazed back down at the sleeping figure. Somehow he knew *that*
Alexei had survived the years. He had seen the spirit in the green
eyes, had felt the tremors of passion in the responsive body.
His hand reached out to caress the soft skin.
The image of Krycek impaled by a hot, thick shaft... rutting sensuously
without guilt, totally absorbed in the pleasure and pain of the
moment had sent him over the edge. He felt the heat and stickiness
within his pants but a flick of the wrist holding the gun stilled
the slight motion of his 'companion'. He watched as the coiled
tension in the strong body faded with the realisation that the
orgasm had not mentally debilitated his 'captor'.
"Is there to be a happy ever after?"
Krycek smiled enigmatically. He was well aware of the power of
a good story. He had made up enough during the last few years
to cover his ass or get the information he needed out of the unsuspecting,
but he was also aware of the interest paid to this particular
tale. After all, he had related it *because* it paralleled the
truth in so many ways, metaphorically speaking. However, the rest
of this story, as a parallel to reality, had yet to be played
out. But, from the gleam in the other's eye, and the caressing
of the finger on the trigger, it was obvious that more was expected.
It was pay or play time. Should he refuse to go on with the story
or should he make up the rest... and if he did make it up, should
he reveal what he wanted to happen or should he cover his own
vulnerability with a lie. Something told him that the other already
knew what Krycek wanted and was waiting for him to make the mistake
of trying to cover it up.
Alex Krycek grimaced. He once told Mulder that there was no truth...
but that was a half-lie. There *was* a truth but it lay on so
many levels depending on the question. Krycek had a feeling that
only the truth would save him now so he opened his soul, exposing
the vulnerable interior... and continued.
Prince Fox leaned back against the cushions. There was still many
weeks' journey ahead of them... plenty of time to get to know
this man and plenty of time to decide how he would explain his
actions to Pyetr.
As the days passed he spent many hours with Alexei, cradling him
in his arms each night, and gently prising out the story of his
time in captivity.
Together, away from the prying eyes of the servants, they shared
many secrets, dreams, and aspirations but the Prince never heard
what he wanted to hear.
The, one night, as they neared the end of the journey, having
spent many days sailing across the expanse of the Mediterranean
Sea, Fox felt Alexei's soft breath against his shoulder and realised
he was speaking in that low, husky voice. He kept still and silent,
listening as Alexei described the village where he was raised
and the family he had lost.
Tears slipped from two pairs of eyes as his lover's journey into
slavery was related... a tale he had heard many times from different
people. He witnessed through Alexei's words the sorrow and pain
of seeing his father slain, then his mother and siblings sold
to the highest bidder.
Nikolai with his head bowed in defeat. Nikita, 12 years old, being
led away by an obese man whose lust for her young, virginal body
was all too apparent. Little Valerie, 6 years old, with her sweet
laugh and sweeter temperament, being dragged from her mother's
arms in floods of tears by a matronly woman who looked little
more than a slave herself. Then his mother. In his memory she
was still radiantly beautiful with her long, glossy mahogany hair,
but her vivid green eyes were rimmed in red from the harsh sobbing
as she clutched her two remaining children to her breast. Nastassia
clinging to her neck and little Mikhail, with his wide, frightened
eyes. The memory still haunted him.
Of Anastasia there had been no sign and he wondered if she lay
dead in that barely remembered field, her body stumbled across
by the returning hunting party.
Prince Fox listened as Alexei told him of his promise to his mother...
a promise he knew that, with the loss of his innocence and youth,
he could never make good on. He told of his early attempts to
escape that had left him bloodied and bruised, the punishment
more mental than physical, but still painful. He recalled how
the threat of castration had finally instilled some sense into
him, and how he tried to exercise some patience, biding his time,
awaiting the right opportunity... and secretly dreaming that Boris
and Pyetr would come for him. But neither they, nor the opportunity
he needed, ever came. Unless entertaining a client, he had been
chained or caged, never trusted even by M'hadra.
Alexei pulled back and gazed deeply into his new master's golden,
"It's been too long now... the trail would have grown too
cold. I'm so tired of fighting against my fate."
Alexei slumped back onto the soft cushions deep in thought. He
had been sold so many times down the years, taken to so many different
places. He had seen the way other slaves were treated... the young
girls growing old before their time and then sold to be bred like
cattle, often dying in childbirth otherwise being discarded when
their breeding days had come to an end. He imagined his Nikita,
Valerie and Nastassia, faces lined by years of abuse cast into
the fields once the last baby had been torn from their arms...
should they have even lived that long. He had already accepted
that his mother and Nikolai were long dead. Seventeen years was
more than either could have borne. And Mikhail... beautiful Mikhail
probably followed a similar fate to his own. Sold to a brothel
at the earliest age, remembering no life beyond the men who came
to abuse him.
Fox wiped the tears that tripped over the long lashes to fall
down the soft cheeks, understanding what Alexei was trying to
say and wishing, fervently, that he could reveal what he knew.
He tightened his hold and gave comfort the only way he could,
promising himself one thing, somehow he would keep Alexei... not
as a slave but as a lover and, with good fortune, a friend. He
just hoped Pyetr would understand.
Alexei pulled back, his heart breaking from the sour feeling of
betrayal that filled him.
"I... wanted you to know about the promise... about the escape
attempts... because I wanted you to know that I will lay the past
aside. My place is by your side... if that is what you wish...
and I will stay with you. I ask only one thing in return..."
Alexei reached up and placed two fingers against his Master's
lips, preventing any words.
"A little presumptuous I know, for a mere slave to ask a
favour but... if ever you come across any of my family, that you
would consider buying them."
Prince Fox smiled.
"Yes. A little presumptuous for a slave who has been in my
service for such a short time... but I give you my word... as
a man of honour... that you shall see your family freed."
Alexei bowed his head in gratitude, accepting this promise at
face value. It was more than he could ever have hoped for, even
though the chances of finding any of his family was next to non-existent,
but he was tired of being caged and shackled... a prisoner to
the rash promise made in the heat of youth and despair. Life with
Prince Fox could be more rewarding than anything he had ever experienced
before. He hoped his mother, wherever she may be, would forgive
Prince Fox felt his heart would break at the misery and defeat
so apparent. With one final pang of guilt he pulled the younger
man upright, his hand clasped under the chin until the eyes met
his own. His decision made.
"I have a story for you, Alexei."
Alexei listened in growing amazement as Prince Fox related the
tale of two brothers who had returned from a hunt to find their
village razed to the ground, and most of their family and friends
either slaughtered or taken off into slavery.
The brothers had vowed to find their kin, and had set out immediately,
eliciting the help of all the neighbouring villages, offering
future protection in return. The makeshift army had arrived in
the coastal town on the Caspian Sea barely a day after the Horde
with its 'slaves'. Many of the 'stolen' villagers were still in
the vicinity and these were quickly freed, amongst them the family
members of the two brothers... all except the beautiful and spirited
During the following years Pyetr proclaimed himself ruler and
protector of the land and people for hundreds of miles around
the tiny village of his birth. No one challenged him for he brought
with him a new era of peace and prosperity. In time he forged
alliances with neighbouring kingdoms, some through trade, but
another through marriage. This most personal alliance brought
him the friendship of his new wife's cousin, Prince Fox, heir
to the kingdom.
Prince Fox and King Pyetr would spend many an evening supping
wine together and through these sometimes-maudlin sessions Fox
learnt the story of the Horde attack... and the missing boy.
Prince Fox had a wandering spirit which he liked to indulge, travelling
as far as he could within the civilised world; and always, at
the back of his mind, he kept this memory of the lost boy, ensuring
that all his servants would keep a watch for such a slave.
One day his caravan stopped in a small desert town set around
a large oasis. His servants decided to avail themselves of the
town's establishments and, as one servant finished taking his
pleasure from an attractive Syrian youth, he caught sight of a
dark-haired, green-eyed slave chained in the courtyard below.
He made a discreet enquiry and was given the name Alexei. He brought
his newfound knowledge to the attention of his Master, the Prince.
Prince Fox decided to check this for himself, a single glance
had convinced him that this could be the brother his friend sought,
and he made an immediate offer that was too tempting to resist.
Alexei stared long and hard at the man who sat before him. Was
it true? Had he alone of his brothers and sisters suffered the
years of slavery and abuse? Had they been seeking him all these
years... lost but never forgotten?
Fresh tears formed in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks as
Prince Fox described the search through the years. He spoke of
things that Pyetr had told him... anecdotes of his youth that
rekindled the deeply buried memories in Alexei. Fox held the younger
man tightly in his arms as Alexei sobbed. He pulled the tear-stained
face up and looked deep into his lover's eyes.
"Alexei... I couldn't tell you before but you became a free
man the moment you stepped into my life. I hold no slaves... only
servants who may choose to stay, or leave, as they so desire.
But, Alexei, I want you to stay... with me."
"As a servant?"
Prince Fox shook his head, a grin breaking across his handsome
"You are far more to me than any servant. In fact... I am
Their mouths met in a joyous kiss, full and open and accepting.
Somewhere the Gods were now smiling upon him and from this day
forward Alexei would be a slave only to love.
Alexei Krycek fell silent and studied the man who sat across from
him. The gun had been lowered some time earlier, but both had
become too caught up in the ending to take notice... until now.
Even in the subdued light of a small lamp Alex could read the
heat in the gleaming eyes, see the dilated pupils and hear the
faster breath that indicated his companion's arousal. He swept
his tongue across dry, full lips once more, moistening them and
wished he had been cocky enough to ask for a drink.
"An interesting story... I never realised your talents extended
to that level of fabrication... although there seemed to be a
little... kernel of truth that I would like to explore."
Krycek smiled deprecatingly, wondering whether the tale had bought
him more than just time. His answer came.
The green eyes widened at the slightly unexpected release, but
he was not foolish enough to question the order. Within moments
he was out of the door and running. Once he felt he had run far
and hard enough, he checked over his shoulder, then dived down
a dark and gloomy alley. Krycek stopped and leant heavily against
the solid brick wall, cradling his head in his arms, both real
He knew he had escaped with his life because he had given even
more ammunition to the man who had held it so casually, for so
long, and he groaned at the implications of his semi- autobiographical
Life would be even more complicated from now on... but, at least,
he still had a life.
Back in the apartment the man smiled, a grin that lit up the normally
dour face. Rheumy blue eyes crinkled up in a different sort of
pleasure as he pulled a Morley from the pack and sucked in a deep
lungful of the heady drug.