Breaking Ground

The clean, antiseptic light of day shone down into the alley through the narrow opening allowed by the tall buildings. Such a harsh light, delineating in precise slashes the shadows that fell across Alex Krycek's down turned face. His head dipped slightly, then rose a little, almost as if his face would show itself fully to the light, teasing, but never managing a full disclosure.

He gave a breathy sigh and rested the back of his head against the building's brick facing. For a moment the white light shone fully on his face, an overexposure so intense it blocked out all detail of the features it illuminated.

Then his head bent again and he leaned away from the wall, closing his jeans on spent pleasure. He adjusted himself, shifting his shoulders beneath cigarette-scented leather, moving on, away from dreams that called to him to stay just a little bit longer in their fantasy world. A fantasy world where those you desired returned the favor of loving you back.

He began the day weary and the long hours of walking, always moving, propelled him through the crowded streets on the fuel of survival. Destination unknown.

It wasn't pretty, his life. It was a blur of strangers reflected in display windows of stores he couldn't afford to go into. The flow of people seemed to move at an accelerated speed, faces melting into all the flesh toned colors of humanity and it made him sicker than he already felt. So sick he stopped at one point and pressed his hot forehead to the cool, cool glass of a window.

When he could drag open his eyes, he saw the mannequin staring back at him. Unlike the flesh and blood faces around him, it looked real, distinct and strangely kind. The fever that burned in Alex's brain said the black eyes were concerned in a starkly inhuman and alien way. It gave him an odd sense of relief and acceptance for he felt like an alien, too.

He kept his hand on the glass, sliding it along as he walked towards the door of the shop, never losing eye contact with the mannequin. The eyes followed him easily and Alex felt relief because if the manneqin's eyes lost their glint of cognizance, he would have despaired in that moment. The eyes drew him with the force of a compulsion he couldn't ignore. The mannequin had a strong face with Walter Skinner's features and bald head. Wide shoulders were encased in leather that had expensive sewn into every seam. Slim hips were sheathed in denim, sex proudly outlined, such an anatomically correct mannequin it was.

The mannequin slowly lowered one heavy eyelid and then just as slowly raised it in an obvious, inviting wink that promised enticingly forbidden things if only Alex would come closer. Perhaps this mannequin would come to life as Walter Skinner's surrogate executioner. The perfect wielder of justice meting out the sentence, which was surely his due. Perhaps it would be a quick death, perhaps he'd get to go down on his knees and show Walter Skinner, in whatever form, what he was prepared to do for him. Perhaps it would make a difference.

Alex accepted all this. It seemed right, somehow, because the moment of atonement had finally arrived and who better to wield the sword of justice than this man. Only, Alex was a survivor and he'd rather do other things for this man than die.

Alex left the bright, hard world of blurry-faced strangers and entered the cool, softly-lit shop with a sigh of relief. He moved towards the mannequin. They weren't separated by glass now. It was just Alex and his Skinner. Alex stepped into the display, next to the mannequin. He reached out with his plastic hand and touched its plastic cheek. He couldn't feel the cold, lifeless face; but, it felt real to a man who wanted it as badly as Alex did in that moment. It was more real than the lust-fueled fantasy had been in the alley, when he'd touched himself, pleasured himself with his own flesh and blood hand.

And very slowly, as if he were in a fever dream, he lowered his lids over his hot eyes and moved his bent head closer so he could hear.

Skinner whispered to him, words that told him what to do in a voice that was so familiar. They were casually spoken, expecting to be obeyed. Explicit, tangled, explosively dirty, everything he desired and Alex shivered with the heat from hell's open door. He opened his eyes and stared into the black ones that were just a bit above his. He wanted to be even lower. He wanted to be on his knees, looking up, with big hands on the back of his head, pushing him against what he wanted. He wanted it so badly. It was hard and waiting for him only inches away. He opened his mouth to take it and realized he was still standing. He couldn't have what he wanted until he did this strange Skinner's bidding. He stepped back and out of the display. He began his search through the store.

A store full of clothes, racks of them, hanging and folded, but no customers, no people at all. Alex found the key where his Skinner had said it would be. It was an old-fashioned key, the type that hadn't been used in over a hundred years or more. He closed his fingers over its rusted and pitted surface where it rested in the palm of his hand and walked back to his Skinner.

He lifted the back of the hem of the short, leather jacket and found the little slot in the small of the manneqin's back. He inserted the key, expecting there to be some resistance, but it slid in smoothly with a clicking sound as it settled into place, then he turned it to the right. There wasn't any sound at all for a full minute and then Alex felt it rather than heard it. It was a glimmer of life starting, an inhalation of lungs long dry of any air, a pumping heart still for too long.

He stepped back, one step, then two. The tips of his real fingers tingled and the plastic ones hung heavy at his side as he waited. His own heart was laboring far too fast. He refused to blink even though his eyes were scorching hot.

His Skinner turned to face him as a human would. He stepped forward with all the fluidity of motion that joints, tendons and muscles could allow. He lived.

Alex sighed and closed his eyes, letting that tiny relief of coolness wash over him, letting his Skinner move closer till he was standing a step away and still Alex stood with his eyes closed. The hand that reached out and touched his cheek was warm, flesh and blood, and a tear escaped from under Alex's tightly closed lid. He told himself it was the fever.

And then wide lips pressed against his and they were so very warm and they moved on his with such a depth of feeling that he almost didn't notice the arm circling his waist, drawing him nearer. But, he couldn't help noticing the way Skinner's cock brushed against his. It made everything else fade into the background because a warmth flushed through his body. It left him feeling weak. He had always wanted this, always.

He spread his legs slightly to better steady himself and simply held on as his Skinner's hands moved over his body in a way that was making it hard for him to breathe without gasping. They moved with an unrelenting force that seemed to be hard wired to Alex's cock. It made him spread his legs wider and throw his head back, letting Skinner's mouth move to his neck, letting Skinner pull him in tighter, letting those hands shove their way beneath his jeans, digging into the soft flesh of his ass as one hand, fingers rigid, dove into his crack.

Alex gasped when the middle finger pushed into his anus. The breath-stopping sensation that he'd been penetrated came at the moment the deep voice whispered into his ear, telling him what was going to happen to him as the big finger worked in his hole. There was another finger trying to work its way inside him as if he didn't have any defenses at all. They'd disappeared, melted away in a fever drip of sweat. Alex tried to spread his thighs again, but that only pulled his jeans tighter against his buttocks, pressing Skinner's hand more firmly in place and then there were two fingers working in his hole. The deep-gut sensations of pleasure this produced made him want to get down on his hands and knees and stick his ass in the air for this man.

And then his Skinner was telling him to do it. He wanted Alex to open his jeans and let them fall to his ankles.

So, he did.

He stood in the display window in full view of the blur of people walking by and they ignored him completely. He felt exposed to the world and yet immune to their gaze at the same time. The only eyes that mattered were black and systematically destroying him where he stood. They were implacable, no pleas for mercy would break through their stony gaze. But, Alex didn't want to plead for mercy.

He turned and knelt, his jeans bunched around his boots. He still wore his white brief. He'd not quite had the nerve to push it down. It was obvious he was hard. His cock pushed against the soft cotton and his balls hung heavy. When he rested his forearms on the floor, his ass stuck up in the air and his T-shirt and leather jacket shifted down his back, closer to his shoulders. He rested his forehead on his real hand. Skinner stepped closer and with one foot kicked the inside of Alex's right knee and then the left, spreading them wider till the skin felt stretched and taut where his thighs merged with his groin. His balls shifted. The cotton brief pulled tighter across his ass.

Skinner knelt behind him, his knees on top of Alex's jeans, pinning him securely in place. Alex's thighs had begun to quiver. The internal shaking that he was feeling grew till it manifested itself over the entirety of his body. He wanted Skinner with a desperate hunger and yet he was afraid of the moment when he'd have what he desired the most.

Skinner's fingertips pushed against the back of his thighs, under the elastic legs of his brief and kept pushing till the crotch was stretched up and into his crack. The globes of his ass exposed.

"Tilt your ass up, Alex."

It was the first time the deep timbre of Skinner's voice had been spoken so fully and it was Skinner's voice asking him to tilt his ass up even more. Skinner's hands were still on him, warm and big and waiting until Alex stretched, the small of his back dipping as his ass came up. Skinner's hands shoved the brief up, stretching the crotch tightly into his crack. Skinner's thumbs pried the material aside easily, hardly allowing such a flimsy barricade to stop him, pushing into the lips of the anus, stretching it open, making way for the head of his cock, which wasn't waiting till Alex was prepared. He wasn't prepared at all to feel the invasion, the penetration. He wanted to stop it because it was all happening so fast. He was so exposed and vulnerable and he wanted it so damn much.

He clenched his fist and pressed his forehead into it. He couldn't believe Skinner's cock was moving inside him, already inside him. He hadn't been prepared. He was never going to be prepared for this. This was what he'd been afraid of. It had happened so quickly, the breaching of his defenses. He'd let it happen and now he couldn't stop it. He had never been so afraid in his life.

Skinner's cock was opening him even further. As afraid as Alex was it was even more frightening to know that it had only just begun. He could feel himself unraveling inside, all the tightly bound emotions unwinding like coils of rope and simply falling away. He couldn't stop it any more than he could stop Skinner's cock. It was fully inside him now. It was a clear moment for him of feeling connected to Skinner, his flesh holding Skinner's flesh inside him, pinned in place, exposed to the world.

Alex shuddered and then kept on shuddering as Skinner began to withdraw and punch back in. It was relentless and with each punch of Skinner's cock into him Alex felt the excitement grow deep inside him. It wasn't just the heaviness of his balls or the hard, urgent need building in his cock or even the way he melted inside when Skinner's cock rubbed against his prostate. It was deeper than that and it was growing. The way Skinner's cock seemed to grow with each thrust into him. He had to brace himself even though Skinner was holding his hips in a firm grip.

He wanted to cry like a kid because Skinner just kept on fucking him and it felt so damn good. He gave up then. He gave up whatever last shred of control he was holding onto and just let go. He just stepped off the edge of the cliff.

It felt as if Skinner's cock was working its way down his throat. Alex wanted to come so badly, but he couldn't touch himself, whatever satisfaction he was going to get was coming at Skinner's hands and Skinner seemed focused on his own pleasure. And there didn't seem to be any deadline in Skinner's agenda. He was pumping away to his own rhythm, taking Alex with him, sending the swirls and eddies of pleasure coursing through Alex till he felt like a wrung out dish rag. His damn toes were tingling.

And then Skinner started into a faster rhythm, jabbing into Alex with short little punches that stopped the tingling in Alex's toes and melted them clean off.

Alex pushed back, braced himself and levered up until he had his arm straight under him. He arched his back even more as he threw his head back, reveling in what Skinner was giving him, wanting more.

Skinner's right hand left his hip and grabbed the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck and pulled Alex's torso upright. Skinner's hand moved to encircle the front of his neck, squeezing while his other hand pressed into Alex's lower belly, then grabbed the top of Alex's brief and pulled it up tight. The fingers and thumb at the sides of his throat tightened. He lost any sense of his surroundings. His extremities began a fierce tingling. There wasn't anything in his world but the cock stretching his ass and his own cock and balls pulled up high by his brief.

Alex began to hump the more Skinner squeezed, until he came in a weak, mewling, devastated sort of way. Skinner paused while Alex's anus clinched around him, pulling on Skinner's cock like a hungry mouth suckling at a teat as Alex finished jerking into the air.

Skinner let him down, then. Alex folded at the waist like a rag doll, loose and open for Skinner, who took his time, enjoying the well-fucked hole he'd made for himself, throwing his head back and concentrating on finishing the ride.

Alex felt the weight descend on him. It felt as if Skinner were still squeezing his throat because he couldn't quite get his breath and he was so hot. He could feel Skinner's hand on his forehead, rubbing his hair back, saying something to him that Alex didn't want to hear; so he turned his head on the pillow away from the annoying voice.

"Alex?" Walter asked as he reached up to the little light over the hospital bed to adjust its glare.

He gently, but persistently rubbed the ice chip along Alex's lower lip until the parched lips parted and it slipped through.

"Alex, open your eyes. You've got to drink something."

Alex rolled his head to face Skinner and blinked through matter-crusted eyelids at his lover. He croaked out, "Not thirsty, leave me alone." He wanted to get back to the dream he'd been having.

But Skinner persisted until Alex relented and allowed a straw to be placed against his lips and he sucked up a couple of mouthfuls. He made a face as he swallowed and then refused any more.

"I met with the architect today." Skinner sat on the edge of the bed and absently rubbed Alex's thigh through the thin bed sheet.

Alex continued to try and bring his lover completely into focus while Skinner continued to talk. "He seems to have listened to our ideas on the secret room. You're going to have to get better soon because I'm counting on you dealing with the contractors on that because I'm going to have to be out of town a lot."

Alex licked his lips and said, "I was having a very nice dream, just now."

Walter's look shifted from complacently concerned to curious. "Oh?"

The tips of Alex's lips lifted in a smile and he shifted his weight in the bed a little, pressing his thigh more firmly into Skinner's hand. "Yeah."

Skinner's eyebrows went up and his own mouth began struggling to stifle a smile. "Ohhhh...I see," Skinner said and then he lost his struggle and gave in fully to the smile. "I'm sorry I interrupted."

Alex felt a giggle begin to grow in a ticklish sort of way deep in his chest eliciting a series of painful sounding coughs. Skinner got up and adjusted the back of the bed to a higher angle as Alex nodded, his hand to his mouth before he replied, "Your dream self was making a very good impression for himself when you decided to be Nurse Killjoy."

Skinner returned to his place beside Alex and began to move his hand up higher on Alex's thigh, his thumb pressing in firmly as it rubbed ever closer to Alex's groin.

Alex put on a seriously offended look. "I'm a sick man, Walter. You wouldn't take advantage of me...would you." The last was said in a blatantly pleading tone that was further enhanced by Alex's scratchy throat and appealingly watery and yet soulfull eyes.

"You're getting out tomorrow, Alex. I'll try and restrain myself until you're fully recovered." Walter pinched the fleshy part of Alex's inner thigh.

Alex reached up and grabbed a handful of Skinner's shirt front and dragged his lover's face closer. "What if I told you I don't want you to restrain yourself."

Skinner's dark eyes were suddenly full of an intensity that warmed Alex's feverish brow even further and made his dry mouth yearn for another ice chip or even more preferably, Skinner's tongue.

Skinner's voice was almost as hoarse as Alex's when he whispered, "That's what we're building the secret room for, Alex. And I expect it to be the most well-used room in our new home."

"Well used," Alex murmured as he looked up into his lover's face with a fever that wasn't entirely to be blamed on the virus. "I can get on board with that."