Temptation
Alex should not have been surprised. He knew where Mulder had met the
skinny, blond cop. He had watched them cling to each other as they exited the
trendy club and walked to Mulder's hotel room. At the time, he had burned with
anger, jealousy preferable to heartache. Since then, he had kept his anger
close, using it to assert himself among the other hired guns, using it to keep
himself distant from the violence required from him. Anger made him strong,
cold, efficient.
Killing Mulder's father was a challenge—he knew the death would devastate
his lover. But it was a test too—his employers wanted to be sure of Alex's
loyalty. He was certain his anger would carry him through. Then he had glimpsed
Mulder through the doorway, and his shields had started to crack.
Of course, he had finished the job. There was too much at stake.
Then he had gone to Mulder's apartment to check on him. What happened was a
testiment to Alex's distracted heart and mind—Mulder had caught him.
Alex was still shocked over the anger his lover had displayed. And how did
Mulder know that Alex was the one who had shot his father? Alex denied
involvement, and Mulder only seemed to get angrier, beating him, threatening
his life. Alex shrank from the beloved man who had suddenly become a stranger.
Then Scully had appeared. Later, Alex was appalled at the relief he felt when
she shot Mulder down. Instinct took over, and he had run.
The whole incident was difficult to think about. In the end, Mulder was safe
again. Alex kicked himself for interfering. He should have just done his job.
Mulder was unreachable even before Bill Mulder's death. Besides, Alex's
emotional involvement was unimportant compared to the larger picture.
But his anger was useful.
And Ray the cop served as excellent tinder to his ire. This skinny,
wise-ass, pig had touched his Fox. His.
And he needed to know why Fox had allowed it.
So tonight Ray left the club with Alex. The cop drove. Alex stared at him
from the passenger seat. Ray fidgeted and kept nervously glancing back at him.
The motel was cheap and conveniently close. Alex would not even look at the
cop's face once they entered the room. Just turned him around and took. Pure
animal domination. Using anger to assert himself once again.
Ray's T-shirt clung to him with sweat. The cold plaster wall of the cheap
motel room, soothing to his hot face, provided a focus against the supple,
muscular body pressing into his back. Ray grunted as quick fingers prepared
him. Rough, but not frenzied. There was anger here, and Ray reveled in it.
He moaned and pushed back against the intrusion. Anger, yes, that was okay.
No sweet kisses and gentle caresses. That only reminded him of Stella, his
wife—ex-wife soon. Divorce was bound to happen, but he did not want to think
about that, about her. That was why he went out tonight and every night. Left
his hotel room, and cruised the bars.
The alternative was to drink himself into oblivion and possibly start a
fight. He would strike out at strangers, because he could not hit himself. He
learned the folly in that action a few years back.
This was far, far better. Sex. Not with women—that would only be a
substitute for Stella. And it could not be soft loving touches, either. No.
Sex. Raw. Hard. It was the only thing keeping him alive, reminding him that he
was alive, as he puzzled through his misery and despair over Stella leaving.
Stella was leaving him. Leaving. No. Making him leave, because he was the
fuck-up. Not her.
Ray pushed himself back from the wall and shook his head. He did not want to
think about that. He just wanted to fuck.
"Fuck me, " he rasped.
A hot lick along his neck was the answer. Then a sharp jolt of pain as he
was entered. Quick. Hard. Yes. Ray cried out as the stranger thrust forward all
the way. He was pushed back into the wall. Now there was fiery, short panting
behind his ear, on his neck. Metal zipper teeth scraped and bit into his
thighs. A strong arm reached around him, pushing up his shirt, gripping them
close.
"Fuck. Yeah. Oh, yeah," he moaned. The stranger pulled them back a few
inches, enough for Ray to brace his arms.
He did not even know the guy's name. The man barely spoke since they met on
the dance floor, and when he had, the words were drowned in the pulsing crystal
meth of music. It was the smile—wicked and cruel—that caught Ray's
attention. He saw the man dancing in the crowd, eyes closed, head back, and
grinning like a tiger. He moved with animal grace and the assurance of a
hunter. From that moment Ray wanted him. Ray sidled up and smiled, staring a
challenge into deep green eyes. He knew the man was pure predator. Cop
instincts flared up. Danger. Bad guy. Really bad. Do not fuck with this one,
Ray. Oh, but he wanted that wicked smile. He wanted to feel this tiger's jaws
on his throat. The temptation was too great. Ray closed his eyes and offered
himself up.
Here again, they were plastered together, but now Ray had this wonderful,
thick cock shoved up his ass, and he could barely remember his own name as the
stranger shoved into him again and again. A slow rhythmic pace. Long hard
thrusts. Each one angled along Ray's prostate making him beg for more as he
twisted and writhed to impale himself further. The rough hand under his shirt
reached and grasped an already hardened nipple, and twisted it cruelly. Ray
gasped. His cock throbbed. He wanted to come. For the first time ever, he
might come without touching his dick.
The man shifted. Tongue along his ear. A harsh, whiskey-rough voice
growled, "You can touch yourself now. I want to feel you come."
Permission?! The cop buried down inside Ray raged, but the mewling, panting,
creature with the broken heart that Ray had become, thrilled at the commanding
voice. Ray brought his right arm down and realized that the guy's other arm
was helping to hold their weight. Ray's hand brushed across the spongy, wet
head of his cock, and he groaned. The stranger sucked in his earlobe and drove
into his ass faster, harder. Ray matched the pace with his hand, stroking down
his cock, giving his aching sex the attention it demanded to bring him, up, up,
higher, higher. Exquisite pleasure. Blinding, gratifying fire filling his ass.
A sudden sharp pain as the man bit into his ear. Then Ray was shouting to the
wall, to God, to the demon with the angelic face behind him. Cum spurted out
over his hand. His body was clenched in a vise like grip as they rode out the
furious wave of orgasm together.
Ray slumped against the blessed, filthy wall. Somehow, the man had held him
up. Ray could hear the heavy breathing in his ragged, bleeding ear. He felt
the sweat licked up off his neck. He was numb. This moment existed and nothing
else. The man's softening penis was pulled from his ass, but he could not even
voice a complaint. He doubted if he could even walk. A smile lit up his face.
He had chosen well tonight. This man was dangerous, but worth the risk. Ray
rolled his head and turned to face his companion.
Same height. Mink brown hair. Ray remembered the feel of the short, wet
strands on the back of that strong neck. Green, long-lashed eyes that laughed
at him. Sharp, white teeth in a cruel, beautiful smile. Ray pulled up his
jeans, and stepped forward to run his fingers over the soft, bow lips, along
the strong jaw, and down the silky pale neck. He was petting the beast, taking
the chance that his hand might be bitten off.
"I can't stay," the man said with a rough, deep voice.
"I know," Ray answered and he glanced up into the narrowed green eyes. A
flick of pink tongue over the bowed lips caused Ray to think about his injured
ear again. He was hurting all over, his ear, his ass, his bruised mouth, but
the pain on the inside, the savaged tatters of his heart, was gone for the
moment. None of the others had done that—had driven him outside of his
personal ball of misery for longer than it took the orgasm to end. How could
he find that again? How did a person hold onto a wild animal without getting
killed? He raised his eyes back up. The stranger looked ready to bolt. The
lashes were lowered, concealing the soul within. The great cat hid.
"What's yer name?" Ray asked.
"Rick" Alex lied, and he looked away quickly enough for Ray to understand.
"Okay then, Rick. I guess there ain't no better way ta say this than ta say
it. I wanna see ya again."
Ray held his breath as 'Rick' focused on him again. He felt a thrill run
through his body. A demon was staring at him with all the promises of hell,
and Ray's heart beat in panicked desire. His tired cock twitched and he licked
his dry lips. Suddenly, a brilliant smile lit across the man's face. For a
split second, Ray thought 'Rick' would kill him. Quick shot from the gun that
still sat in its black holster.
Then he answered, "I travel a lot. Give me your number, and I'll call next
time I'm in town."
Under ordinary circumstances, Ray would have seen that statement as a brush
off, but he knew that this man did not play those sort of games. Ray nodded.
He stiffly walked over to the chipped dresser, and snatching up a plain notepad
where he scribbled out his cell phone number.
Alex gazed past his lashes at the lean effervescent man handing him a slip
of paper. This was dangerous. Stupid. He only wanted a taste, and he was about
to accept the whole plate.
Oh, but what a satisfying meal!
Alex stalked into Ray's personal space. The musky smell of sex and sweat
filling the room overwhelmed his sense of caution. Alex pounced, ignoring
Ray's nervous, energy-containing twitches, and captured that little red mouth
with bruising force. Ray staggered as he was released, his eyes filled with
apprehension. Alex stepped back and studied the agile blonde once more before
he left. He deliberately let humor show on his face, and Ray responded with
that dazzling fuck me smile that had lured Alex in the first place. Alex
turned and slipped out the door.
He no longer wondered why Fox had fallen into this man's arms for a brief
time. Ray definitely had magnetism. Alex looked at the white strip of hotel
paper crumpled in his hand. Maybe it would be useful. He refolded the paper
neatly into his pocket. Chicago made a convenient city to hide in, when
needed, and Ray would make a fiercely entertaining diversion.
The Linking
of Lost Souls: Interlude I
by Katail
He had not expected to find him so easily. He had not expected to find
him at all. But on the third night spent wandering the bars of downtown
Chicago, Alex's quarry appeared.
