Disclaimer: I'm not their pimp. CC, 1013, and FOX are the only
money off these guys. Lyrics belong to Sam Phillips and Virgin Records.
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex, language, and a spot of blood.
Spoilers: None. It's almost AU...two arms, RatB hair...BTW, what's canon? ;)
Summary: Sequel to "Lying". Mulder does some thinking and comes to a decision.
Note: Thank you to Sue (QOTFU), Row, and Fleur for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Feedback: I would love it, good, bad or indifferent! Please! I have no pride, I can beg! firstname.lastname@example.org
Lying II: Private Storm
Afraid that our words bring clouds we talk in code
The thunder of cruel perfection covers love
And we're cold
The private storm
And our souls are worn from the tears
If I have to hear Kathie Lee Gifford sing one more Christmas song, I am going to shoot my TV. As the band begins to play "The Little Drummer Boy," and Kathie Lee opens her mouth, I aim my remote and kill the damn thing.
I throw the remote on the couch next to me and watch it bounce off the cushion and land on the floor. Judging by the unhealthy cracking sound, I need to buy a new one. Maybe Scully will give me one for Christmas if I ask her nicely. She's been worried about me since he...for the last few months. She doesn't know about him, but my behavior had changed enough for her to comment on it. When she first asked me what was wrong, I told her I was having some trouble with a relationship. I can't decide if I was more relieved to say it without laughing at the absurdity of the label, or without crying at my pathetic attempt to label it as anything at all.
Sighing, I stand up and stretch, grimacing at the popping sounds I hear in my back. I walk over to the window and look out at the streets, now covered with snow. Cars and strangers have marred it, turning it into a sloppy, defiled mess. It's starting to snow again, laying down a fresh blanket of snow for me to search for footprints. Footprints that lead to the entrance of my building.
"Dammit, do you realize how many people are walking around out there? Give it up, boy!"
I surprise myself by saying that out loud, then laugh, bitterly, at the fucked-up situation I've allowed myself to get into. Here I am, Special Goddamn Agent Fox Mulder, desired by millions, well, maybe dozens...okay, so there're a couple of new guys at work I've noticed giving me the eye...Hell, even Scully's tossed a glance or two my way. Anyway, here I am, pining away for Alex Krycek, a man who, by all rights, should be in prison along with all the other scum I help to rid the world of, but I...want him.
His frequent visits have never been just about sex for me, but something tells me that he's just out for himself when he comes here. I'd like to believe that weren't the case, but he's never given me any indication to the contrary. The last time he came by, I decided to act as if I didn't care to see if he would just tell me to go fuck myself, then turn around and leave. It gave me some hope when he didn't go right away, but when I asked him to stay, he didn't. I always ask him to stay and he always says he can't, but I know one day he will. All of this is assuming I get another chance to ask him. This is the longest he's gone without seeing me and I'm wondering if my feigned disinterest last time worked too well.
I don't want to think about what I'll do if I never see him again. He has to come back so I can cut past the shit and tell him how I feel. Consider it my pre-New Year's resolution to let the shady character in my life know how I really feel about him. How I can't think straight when he looks at me or stop my heart from pounding at the sound of his voice. The way I need to save him from himself before he goes too far, before he loses who he is to whatever forces are directing his life... We've been playing this game too long and it's time to change the rules. I figure the worst thing that could happen is he kills me. No, the worst thing that could happen is he laughs in my face, tells me what a fucking idiot I am, then he kills me. Of course, by then I'd welcome the bullet to my head.
I shake my head in a vain attempt to rid myself of the sudden self-pity I'm drowning in. How the hell did I get to be so maudlin? Seems my little jog down memory lane is mixing with the hopelessness and melancholy the holiday season always instills in me. Not a good combination.
He's not coming back.
Logically, I know that he's the last person I should feel this way about. I know he's hurt people, killed people, been ordered to do things no one should have to do, but I think, in some bizarre way, that's why I lo...care about him. He's a victim of his circumstances with no way out. He's a damaged soul who needs someone to make him whole and, it just so happens, I want someone to need me. I want *him* to need me. We're a perfect match. I laugh again, imagining the look on Scully's face if I ever told her any of this. Hey, Scully, guess who your partner's got it bad for? Give up? Alex "ye olde nemesis" Krycek...Alex "how the fuck can those eyes not be registered weapons" Krycek...
"Alex..." I sigh and close my eyes. The way his name feels sliding from my tongue sends a painful jolt to my groin...by way of my heart. I quickly open my eyes. How can he be getting to me like this? Why now? I take that back. The little fuck's been getting to me since the first day I saw him, all wide-eyed innocence and bad suits. He's beyond getting to me...he's had me for a long time.
I'm distracted by the sounds of footsteps outside my door, and when I look, I can see a shadow under the door, flittering back and forth. My pulse quickens and my palms start to sweat, making me feel like a nervous teenager about to pick up his prom date. Not only is it disconcerting, but it's also strangely invigorating. He came back to me! It's been almost three months since he left, but he's back. I cross my living room and wait by the door, ready for the moment he opens it and walks back into my life; the moment I can touch him again. I jump a little at the unexpected knock. He's never done that before. Before I can think about it too much, I fling the door open and--
"Good evening, sir. We're collecting for the Little Sisters of Mercy charity. Would you be interested in perhaps making a donation?"
I stare, open mouthed, at the man and woman standing in front of me. Jamming my hand into my jeans pocket, I pull out the first bill I find and shove it into their collection can. I have no idea what it is and don't care, I just need to close the door.
"Thank you, s--"
I don't mean to slam the door, but I can feel the disappointment rising like bile in my throat. I need to get the hell out of here. Grabbing my jacket, I head out the door, ignoring the looks of the strangers in the hallway. I have to be anywhere, just not here.
The icy wind bites my face the moment I step out the front door to my building. Since I'm only wearing a T-shirt, I'm grateful for my heavy, leather jacket, so much like his.
I need to find a bar, fast. My legs move quickly and I feel as if I'm running from something, someone.
"Fuck him," I say, perhaps a little louder than I should have. I pass an old lady who glances at me, nervously.
The bar is crowded, smoky, and loud. Perfect. I fight my way through the mass of bodies, which I suddenly notice are all decidedly male. Without meaning to, I've managed to find myself in a place he would frequent. There's no getting away from him. I order a double bourbon, trying not to notice the stares of the man standing next to me.
Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away.
"Um, I don't usually come to places like this, so I don't know if--"
"Listen, I don't want any company--" I turn to him and stop midsentence. God, he could be Alex's brother. He's a few inches shorter and not as filled out, but the dark, silky hair, sultry mouth, the turned up nose. His voice is different, timid, and his eyes are...the eyes are too soft. I can't think of what else I want to say to him, this almost identical twin of the man I could love. I don't know whether or not to take this as a sign that someone up there is fucking with me, or as a happy coincidence. Either way, I'm having a really hard time getting him out of my mind.
He looks down at his drink. "Okay, that's fine. Sorry I bothered you."
I reach out a hand to touch his arm.
"It's okay. I'm just...I used to be involved with someone and I only came here to try and--"
I nod and down my drink in one swallow, then look at the man next to me. "I guess it's not gonna work." I throw some money on the bar and leave.
Before I open the door to my apartment, I check for any sign of forced entry, even though I know he could get in and I'd never know. He's done it so many times before. I make more noise than usual with my key, just in case, then smile when I realize it's what he does when he comes to see.....when he used to come to see me. The shot I had has helped me see things clearly and come to the conclusion that I'm not going to see him again. Hey, I said it and it didn't kill me. It just feels like it.
I walk through the open door and feel a stab of regret at seeing that my apartment is just as I left it. What was I hoping for? A naked Krycek on my couch with a sprig of mistletoe tied around his waist? I slip my jacket off my shoulders and throw it across a chair before I turn to close the door.
"Alex..." Oh god, I was hallucinating.
The vision in leather and denim, standing before me, speaks. I don't hear what it says.
"What?" I'm stunned.
"I said, where were you?"
Before I can answer, I feel myself being shoved backwards and I'm on the floor, looking up at the man who wouldn't let me go through a single day without his intruding on my thoughts. Bastard.
"What's the matter, Mulder? Getting soft?"
The sneer on his face and the harshness in his voice are mocking me. I know he expects me to do or say something, but I can't think of what. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He slams the door shut behind him. I watch him as he takes off his gloves, then his jacket, placing it next to mine. He looks so good, his hair's a little shorter, but his face looks so tired.
"Mulder, what's wrong with you?" I think I hear a hint of concern in his voice as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing the well defined veins of his forearms. God, those arms have always turned me on. Hell, even his shitty ties could turn me on simply because they were around that smooth neck...
He nudges my foot with his boot.
"C'mon, Mulder. You're starting to piss me off."
I hear his words, but there's no anger behind them.
"Alex, I --"
A heart wrenching grin and he crouches down next to me.
"Mulder, are you drunk?" He leans in to sniff my breath, his face, inches from mine. I move my head forward and gently bring our lips together, lingering for just a moment. His head jerks back and I realize he's not accustomed to the gentleness of what I've just done.
A hand comes up to his lips and he brushes his fingers lightly over them. "Yeah, you're drunk, Mulder." His voice is softer, more wary and the startlingly green eyes search mine for a hint as to what's going on.
I finally find my voice. "I've been waiting for you to --Where've you been?"
One last search of my eyes and he stands up, his face a mask again. "Why the fuck do you care? You're not my keeper, now get up." Since he asked me the same question before, I wonder if he considers himself to be mine.
I don't move. A grunt and he grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me to my feet. I don't resist. I'm tired of resisting. I just want it to all be over.
"Alex," I begin.
He slams me up against the wall.
"Why the fuck do you keep calling me that?" I almost tell him it's because that's his name, but his voice sounds high and panicked, almost as if he were afraid of something. I'd never heard him like this before.
I decide that now is the time and that I have nothing to lose. Too many times I've heard the door closing behind him, as he leaves without giving me a second thought. This time, when he leaves me, I want it to be with the knowledge of how I really feel. He won't care and he'll more than likely laugh in my face, but I have to let him know. I hold my breath for a moment and feel my heart threatening to burst out of my chest.
I search his face for one last sign that he feels anything for me, but all I see is the stony facade he's worn for as long as we've been lovers. I decide to say it before I completely lose my nerve.
"I..Alex, I...love you." My voice catches. He doesn't say anything and I wonder if he's even heard what I said. I raise a hand to touch the side of his face.
He grabs my wrist, squeezing it, painfully.
"I don't know what the fuck you're trying to do, but I'm not going to let you mess with my head. I know you're drunk."
I shake my head and curse that damned shot. "I'm not drunk, Alex. I went to a bar to try and forget about you, but I left after one drink."
His eyes are searching my face for any sign of my intent. I reveal everything to him, but he doesn't see it.
"Mulder..." He sighs and loosens the grip he has on my wrist, but doesn't let go. The expression on his face doesn't waver for a second.
"You don't believe me?"
He swallows, then a smile spreads across his face somehow managing to bypass his eyes, leaving them cold and hard.
"Oh, sure I believe you, Mulder." His voice is rough and sarcastic, but shaking slightly. "Is this your way of telling me you want to cuddle tonight?"
I don't say anything, just take his face in my hands and pull him toward me. He doesn't resist as my lips press against his, easing them apart, my tongue tasting the anger in that hard mouth. He pushes himself against me, deepening the kiss and I moan into his mouth as his groin makes contact with mine, sending shivers throughout my body. It's been so long and I need him more than I thought I could ever need another human being. That scares me. I pull back and see the familiar veil of lust covering the coldness in his eyes and am relieved. Leaning forward again, I feel his hot breath on my lips before I slowly trace his bottom lip with my tongue, sliding it to the corner of his mouth where I place a soft kiss. I feel him tense at the display of unfamiliar affection.
"Alex," I whisper against his cheek, "let me love you."
I don't know what I expect him to do.
"Dammit, Mulder. Why now?" His voice is so quiet, I'm not sure I hear him correctly.
"I've felt this way for a long time. I couldn't tell you until now."
He doesn't say or do anything and I wonder if time has stopped. I almost hope it has so I can stay like this with him. I'm afraid to break the silence, so I start to slowly stroke his hair and rub his back.
He finally whispers something I can barely make out. "I can't do this."
"Why not?" I keep my voice low too, afraid to frighten him if I speak above a whisper.
"This isn't going to work, Mulder. I don't know why you're trying to change the way we do things." He leans back a little to look at me, his eyes still refusing to give up anything.
"It can work. Just give it a chance. We shouldn't be afraid to change things."
His eyes flicker for a second and then a sardonic grin crosses his face. "Oh, I get it." He backs away from me, still smiling, but his eyes are full of something else. It's not quite anger, and if I didn't know better, I'd say it was almost...sadness. All too quickly, the light is shut out and his eyes go dark.
"Get what? What's wrong?" I thought we'd been making progress.
"It's just something new, huh, Mulder?" The sneer remains intact.
"Someth--" I realize what he's saying. "No, Alex. I do care about you. What I meant was--"
"I know what the fuck you meant!" He spits the words at me as he starts prowling back and forth like a caged animal. Running a hand through his hair, he mutters to himself.
"Will you tell me what you're thinking?" I put out a hand to stop his movement, but he slaps it away. "Alex, let me in....please."
He stops in front of me and leans forward. "You can stop with all the damn sweet talk bullshit. I get it."
"The last time I came over, you acted like you wanted nothing to do with me. This time, you're acting like you're in love with me. I get it. But it's not funny anymore."
He doesn't believe me. I'm finally telling him the truth and he thinks it's just another game I'm playing before we fuck. I smile at the irony.
"It is funny, Alex." The look on his face questions my statement. "It's funny because it's true."
I don't expect the slap and its sting lingers long after Alex's hand returns to his side.
"I thought I fucking told you to stop it." He snarls through clenched teeth, his eyes boring into mine. "The next one's not going to feel as good."
Brilliant student of psychology that I am, I realize his reaction is more than just a product of his annoyance at the fact that I won't do what he tells me.
Risking another slap, I ask him a question I need to know the answer to. "What are you afraid of, Alex?"
"I'm not afraid of anything."
I lick my lips and go for it. "I think you're afraid of your feelings for me."
His punch lands hard, knocking me down. I taste copper and salt and when I touch my fingers to my mouth, they come back covered with blood. My head is still spinning as I feel myself being lifted to my feet. He pulls me to him by the collar of my shirt, and I can feel his hot breath burning my cut lip as he speaks.
"I don't have any feelings for you, or anyone else, do you understand?"
I nod, my head starting to clear a little. "L-Let me go clean up."
He lets me go, with a shove. "I'm getting a drink." I watch him walk into the kitchen and start looking through the cupboards.
Walking to the bathroom, I touch my lip again and wince a little at the pain. I look in the mirror and see that the cut isn't bad. He could have done more damage if he wanted to, I know, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. I dab a wet washcloth to my lip and clean off the blood. There has to be a way to get through to him without getting hurt anymore.
He doesn't see me walk out of the bedroom, as he's still in the kitchen, his back to me. He found my bottle of Jose Cuervo and is downing a shot as I walk up behind him and put my arms around his waist, startling him.
"Dammit, Mulder!" he sputters, almost choking on the liquor.
"Turn around, Krycek."
When he faces me, I can smell the tequila on his breath and from the look in his eyes, he's managed to down a few in the short time I was gone.
Before he can say anything I push him against the counter, kissing him hard, ignoring the sting of my cut lip. I look at the glazed expression in his eyes at my unexpected advance and pull his sweater up over his head and down his arms, binding them to his sides. With his arms disabled, I begin kissing and licking his chest, gently sucking on one nipple, then turning my attention to the other. The sounds he makes as I continue tasting his skin make me smile and I move up slowly to his throat where I savor the combination of his cologne and sweat. I want to tell him I love him, but hold off for fear of making him angry. It's not any physical repercussions I'm afraid of, but the fact that he may leave me before I have the chance to be with him one more time. As I place soft kisses along his jaw to his ear, I start stroking his erection through his jeans. He moans as he thrusts his hips forward, seeking more contact. The sound magnifies the ache I'm already feeling in my groin. God, I need him. It's been too long.
"Let's go into the bedroom," I whisper into his ear.
I start to walk backwards and he pushes me towards the bedroom, as he finishes taking off his sweater.
"I'm glad to see you're back to your old self, Mulder," he says, pulling me to him once we're in the bedroom.
"Not quite," I say, quickly turning him around and pushing him face down on the bed.
"Mulder, I can't believe you're taking the lead for once." I hear laughter and surprise in his voice.
"Oh," I grin, "I'm gonna do more than that." I pull his arms behind his back and take out the cuffs I have in my back pocket. Without a word, I fasten the bracelets around his wrists.
I remove the gun I know he always carries and pat him down, looking for any other weapons.
"What the hell is this?" I don't need to see his face to know he's pissed and, perhaps there's some residual fear that I may be arresting him for the things I know he's done.
"Just a little twist in our relationship, Krycek." I reassure him and feel his relief. "Think of it as an experiment." I help him turn over onto his back and move up the bed until he's sitting up, leaning against the headboard.
"Mulder, my arms are going to fall asleep."
I lean down and kiss his ear, grabbing his cock through his jeans. "That'll be about all that falls asleep, tonight."
"Mmm, Mulder, you really should know by now, you don't have to do all this just to cop a feel." His words slur a little, but his eyes no longer show any effects of the alcohol.
I bite the inside of my cheek so I won't smile. Even though it's obvious he's being a smartass, he sounds so serious. It reminds me a little of when we were partners and he would tell one of his lame jokes and not crack a smile. My heart aches at the thought of our days together, working side by side, the adoring looks I'd catch him throwing my way, the desire I felt every time he walked into the bullpen. I wonder if he ever thinks about the days when we were allies and not the twisted wreck of two souls we'd become. I can't even remember how we came to be the way we are now.
Shaking off the reminiscences, I turn my attention back to the man on my bed. "Oh, I want a hell of a lot more from you, Alex."
When I say his name, I see a glimmer of his earlier anger resurfacing. He watches me as I sit on the bed next to him and put my hand on his stomach. The muscles ripple at the contact, almost as if he has been burned.
"You need to relax and listen to me."
"I can listen better when my arms aren't cuffed behind my back." His voice is tired, resigned. It's almost as if he thinks I expect him to say that.
"It's a precaution," I say, standing up and taking off my T-shirt. I notice the way his eyes roam over my body and realize it's the same way I look at him when I think he can't see me admiring him. The burning in his eyes as he looks up at me, sends heat straight to my cock.
"Precaution for what?" he asks, shifting a bit on the bed, trying to release some of the pressure on his arms.
"I don't want to risk another punch." I start to unbutton my jeans. His eyes lock onto the movement of my fingers as they undo each button, stopping before the last one. I sit down again even though I'd like nothing more than to take out my cock and feel his mouth on me. He has never given me a blow job; says he doesn't do that shit. That's something else I hope will change tonight.
"Mulder, it's customary for one to take off one's clothes when stripping for a handcuffed captive."
"You're not my captive. You're legs are free, you're not tied to anything." I don't know why I've decided to point out the obvious to him, since he's very aware of his situation.
"Oh, yeah, so I'm supposed to leave like this in the middle of winter." He indicates his state of undress.
"Hey, I never said you'd want to leave, just that you could."
He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. I'm staying. Now what?"
I move onto the bed to straddle his lap, running my hands down his smooth chest to the waistband of his jeans. I stare into his eyes as I start to undo them, sliding the zipper down. He hisses as I put my hand inside his boxers and hold his erect cock, slowly stroking him and leaning in to kiss him softly.
"Mulder," he sighs and returns the kiss, parting his lips and dipping his tongue into my mouth. The taste of him makes me forget what I wanted to say to him. All I'm aware of is his heat in my hand and the softness of his mouth.
He starts to move his hips towards my touch and I break our kiss, still stroking his growing erection.
"Alex, I know you don't think I'm telling you the truth when I say how I feel about you..."
He starts to speak, but I cut him off by putting a finger to his lips. Surprisingly, that's enough to stop him.
I continue talking as my hand slides up and down his shaft. "I need to make you believe me and you need to listen to me without getting angry and lashing out."
He closes his eyes. "I'm...listening..." I know it's not fair to talk to him like this, but if it's the best way get his attention...
"I can't keep seeing you and having you leave me without a word, without you knowing how I feel and what it does to me each time you go. I know you don't feel the same way about me, and I can't do anything to force you to love me back. I wouldn't want to force you if you didn't mean it anyway." I realize I'm rambling, but have lost any care I may have had. It's almost as if I'm confessing to him every thought I've had during the course of our relationship.
He gives no indication about what he's thinking, only a slight groan, so I continue, feeling safe for the moment.
"I know you only come to see me because it makes you feel good to fuck the guy you've screwed over in so many other ways. I also know you think that I don't care about you and that it's all about the sex. It's not and it never has been." I release him and his eyes open.
"Why did you stop?" His voice is full of need with a hint of anger.
"I need to make sure you hear this."
"I said I was listening. Come on, Mulder. Finish what you started."
I smile and run a hand through his hair, then caress his face.
"Just listen. It's not going to kill you if I make you wait a little bit." I wonder if I'm keeping him on the edge so he will react the way I want him to after I've told him everything. I'm willing to delude myself for the chance to have one perfect night with him.
"I can see past the bullshit, Alex. I can see that you're not what you do and that you need someone who will look beyond your circumstances and into your soul." I feel myself cringe at my choice of words. I expect him to laugh and tell me I'm making a complete ass of myself. He's quiet, though, and I imagine I see a vague hint of interest flicker across his face. It encourages me to go on.
"Why do you think I've ignored so much of the evidence of the crimes you've committed? It's not because I've decided to stop doing my job when I'm with you. It's because, in some sick way, I want to protect you. You won't believe how easy it is to just look the other way when you're involved." He raises his eyebrows at this last statement, but reveals nothing else. Again, I'm not surprised.
"No matter how hard I try, I cannot get you out of my system and after you leave me again, I won't ever be rid of you." I don't look at him again. Instead, I look at my hands and smile.
"My half-assed plan was to keep you here until you saw things my way, but that defeats the whole purpose of my wanting you to care for me because you really do and not because I'm forcing you."
I get off the bed to stand up and dig the handcuff key out of my front pocket.
"I'm going to uncuff you so you can finish what I started, then go. I only want you to stay if you want me. If you go, I don't want you to come back." I swallow the lump in my throat and defy my voice to give away anything I'm feeling. I fail miserably.
I look into his eyes, wishing he'd say something, anything, to break the awkward silence. I almost wish he'd get angry with me for being a tease, and make an attempt to hit me again. This silence is so much worse than not knowing where I stand.
"Can you promise me you'll just leave without a lot of macho bullshit? You've made me bleed already, so can you just leave without hurting me?" I almost add the word "physically" but decide it's pointless since it's not really what I mean. There's nothing more I can say.
To my surprise, he nods slowly. I expect him to laugh at me, but at this point I don't give a shit. Telling him everything that's been running through my head has exhausted me and I can't fight anymore. I bend down to undo the cuffs and take them off. He stretches his fingers and rubs his wrists, not looking at me as I turn to go into the living room. I stop when I feel his hand on my wrist. Maybe I should have known he wouldn't keep his promise to just leave without incident.
"I don't...I don't want to go." I almost don't recognize his voice. I've never heard him speak so softly or sound so...vulnerable.
I look at him and my heart jumps at what his eyes reveal. I cannot believe what I see there. For the first time, I'm sure of what he's feeling for me. I sit down and almost jump as his hand comes up to touch the side of my face. His skin is warm and he gently runs a finger over the cut on my lip.
"I'm so sorry...for everything...I've done." I know he's not just apologizing to me but to whoever else he's hurt.
I place my hand over his and close my eyes. If I'm dreaming I hope I never wake up. I smile at the cliche, amazed at how safe I suddenly feel with this man.
He moves his hand to the back of my head and pulls me to him. His kiss is warm and sweet and tentative. It's unlike anything I've felt from him before, almost as if he's kissing me for the first time, afraid to hurt me further. It's so different from the hard, angry, kisses I'm used to and my body reacts with much more need than it has in the past. When his lips break contact with mine, I groan at the loss of heat.
"Do you mean everything you said?" His question surprises me. I didn't think he'd still have doubts. I nod. This time he's the one searching my face for any signs to indicate what I'm feeling.
"I love you," I say, just in case there's any lingering doubt.
He leans forward and touches his forehead to mine. "Thank you," he whispers. Another kiss and I feel myself being pushed down onto my back as he slowly moves down my body to remove the rest of my clothes, carefully sliding my jeans down my legs along with my boxers. I feel my erection twitch at the anticipation of his touch. Before he makes a move toward me, he finishes undressing himself and returns to join me on the bed. His cock is hard and perfect, and I desperately want him to fuck me.
He smiles at me as he stretches out next to me and covers my mouth with his. Again I am struck by how deep and gentle his kiss is, his tongue exploring my mouth almost timidly. It feels strange to have him kiss me so softly. I moan and feel him smile as we continue to kiss. His hand moves down my chest and lightly caresses my stomach as I put my hand against the back of his head and pull him even closer to me, wanting to swallow him whole. The first touch of his hand on my cock makes me thrust my hips toward that warmth and I break the kiss. I look at his face and see that he's still smiling, but this time it's reaching his eyes. He gives me one more lingering kiss before he starts to move down my body, slowly tracing a path along my chest, down to my stomach, lazily flicking a tongue into my navel.
"Alex.." He lightly bites the skin beneath my belly button and I arch toward his touch.
Without a word he suddenly licks the head of my cock, then wraps his lips around it, making me buck my hips into his mouth. I want to feel more of that hot tongue on me...I need him to...oh god, before I can react, he's taken my whole cock into his mouth, and is sucking and licking as if it were his favorite flavor of ice cream. I reach out a hand and stroke his hair, biting my lip as he places a firm hand at the base of my cock and starts slowly moving it up and down in time with the rhythm he's formed with his mouth. I can feel the tension of orgasm building and threatening to end this too soon.
"Not...yet..." I manage to speak, but he doesn't stop. His beautiful mouth continues to suck on my cock and I'm so close....if he keeps it up I'm going to lose it...suddenly he clamps a hand around the base of my cock, stalling my orgasm.
"How does that feel?" I hear him smiling.
"Oh god, Alex....you're beautiful."
"Nah," he says as I feel him start to lick my balls, making me squirm. "I'm just selfish...I want you to come while I'm inside you, that's all."
I manage a slight chuckle at the matter of fact way he says that.
"Then, you'd better do it fast or you'll be disappointed." I'm not sure how I'm able to speak coherently with the incredible things he's doing to me.
"Mmmm, okay." He licks the head of my penis, then kisses it as he lets go with his hand.
I watch him as he gets up to get lube out of his jeans, and see how red and wet his cock is, just waiting to enter me and fill me. My cock throbs and I hope I can last...
He gets back on the bed and squirts some lube onto his fingers, warming it up. I start to turn over when he stops me.
"Let me see your face. I want to see what you look like when we...make love" My heart aches at the pleading way he says it and his words surprise me. If there was any doubt about the way I feel about him, it's all gone now.
I nod and he raises my knees, gently pressing a finger to my ass. I thrust against him wanting more of him inside me. The addition of another finger is almost enough to make me come, and, as if sensing this, he clamps down on my cock again and eases up with his fingers.
"Not yet," he says, softly, his voice shaking.
"Alex, just...fuck me." He laughs and positions himself between my legs.
The minute I feel the tip of his penis enter me, I close my eyes and cherish the feel of his heat as it slides all the way into me. I open my eyes, meeting his, and for a moment I feel the world stop. There's no need to breathe or think or even for our hearts to beat. We're captured here forever in this one perfect moment which I'll never forget.
As he starts to slowly move inside me, I meet his every movement with one of my own. I feel his hand on my cock as he strokes it in time with our rhythm. Too soon the tight unavoidable pressure rises up from inside me and I'm coming all over the both of us, saying his name over and over again, like a mantra. The look on his face and the way his thrusts start to become more erratic, tell me he's close to coming.
He locks onto my gaze. "I love you, Fox." It's barely audible, but I hear it. He comes with a grunt and I feel his hot come pumping into me, filling me. I put my arms around him as he collapses on top of me. At that moment I love him more than anyone I ever have in my life. I've found my other half.
"Are you okay?" I ask after a few minutes. He kisses me, then moves off of me and lies down on his back, staring at the ceiling. A part of me is prepared for him to tell me this was all just a joke and he was playing along with me so he could fuck me before he walked out of my life.
"Yeah." That's all he says and I start to feel sick. If this meant nothing to him, I don't want to know. I'm about to say something when he turns to me and puts his arms around me.
"Come here." I'm relieved at the words and move into his embrace, imprinting his smell in my memory. I relish the warmth of his arms as they encircle me. "Turn around," he says softly, and I comply, his heat warming my back and making me feel safe. That's the second time I've used the word safe in reference to him. I smile.
"Can you stay?" I ask, knowing the answer. He doesn't say anything and I suppose he didn't hear me. I'm about to repeat the question, when I hear a soft snore. Sighing with relief, contentment, whatever it may be, I close my eyes and fall asleep.
I open one eye and look at the clock before realizing that I don't have anywhere to be. It's the weekend. I reach an arm behind me and feel the empty bed. A moment of panic and I sit up looking at the rumpled sheets and dented pillow where he'd been lying. Maybe he's in the shower, but I don't hear any water running. I look and see that his clothes and gun are gone. Getting up and throwing on my jeans, I run into the living room.
His jacket's gone, but his gloves are still where he left them. There's a piece of paper underneath them. Willing my heart to slow down before it explodes, I walk to the chair where my jacket and his gloves are lying. I feel like a prisoner on death row taking his last steps before he is destroyed forever. I feel nauseous and my hand shakes as I reach out and slowly pick up the pieces of leather and the note. I don't want to read it. If I don't read it, I won't know. It won't be happening. He won't leave me if I don't see it in writing. I close my eyes and put his gloves to my face, taking a deep breath, inhaling his smell. I breathe out slowly and put them on, flexing my fingers to allow the leather to mold itself to my hands. For a moment, I imagine I'm holding his hands, then I touch my face, feeling his fingers on my lips, my jaw, my throat. After a few moments, I open my eyes and strip off the gloves, placing them next to my jacket. I finally allow myself to read the note written in the familiar, rough handwriting...
I never imagined this would ever happen. Falling in love with you wasn't part of my grand plan to not give a shit about anyone but myself. If you'd have been awake when I left this morning, I know you would have asked me if I was going to come back. I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But you were asleep, which made it -- dammit, it wasn't easier -- it was painful as hell for me to go. I just don't want to be there the day you realize you've made a horrible mistake and open your eyes to who I really am. I can't live with that threat hanging over my head. Yeah, I'm being selfish, but what else is new?
I'm more sorry than you could ever know about breaking my promise to leave without hurting you. Forgive me.
I don't even realize I'm crying until I see a drop hit the paper, smearing the ink on the page. I crumple up the note and will it to disappear, erasing everything in it and bringing him back to me. Cursing myself, I wipe my eyes and unroll the note, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. I want to keep it so we can have a good laugh about it later. When he comes back to me.