Duane Barry, dead and as good as forgotten, except for the formality
of an autopsy. Case closed, mission accomplished—
Assignment over.
Time to get out, disappear back into the woodpile like a good little
rat—
Like a murdering little rat. He'd killed today, twice, and despite his
pangs of conscience earlier, it hadn't been hard to do. It had been easy,
in fact, too easy, like flicking off a light when he left a room—
Like fading away, shedding this suit, letting his hair grow longer,
becoming someone else—
That's what the old man had promised him. By tomorrow morning, all traces
of Alex Krycek's existence would be wiped away, washed down the drain like
a carton of bad milk. He had no idea who he'd be, what new name he'd be
calling himself by this time next week, and he didn't care.
So tired his muscles felt like they'd been stretched on a taffy pull—
No time for rest yet, though. He had one more thing left to do.
Mulder was right where he'd left him, sitting in the car on the passenger's
side, staring straight ahead, paying no attention to Skinner or the other
agents still milling around in front of the lodge. He hadn't paid attention to much of anything since the paramedics had
arrived to work on Barry.
He didn't even glance up as Alex opened the door and leaned in to fasten
his seatbelt, didn't say a word as Alex got in himself, started the car,
started driving back down the mountain. All he did was stare out the window,
eyes glassy, unfocused...
Deep, liquid hazel eyes... eyes that tore Alex apart inside, every look
hurtling him back into his own private hell—
He should never have let it happen. He should never have shown up at
Mulder's apartment two nights ago, leftover Chinese in hand, should never
have tried to—
Hell, he'd done more than try. He'd pushed him flat on his back on the
couch, ripped open his fly and started sucking him off—
And Mulder'd been more than ready for it, hot and hard, aching, practically
begging for his mouth, coming like a freight train at full steam, so fast
and thick and creamy-sweet just the memory of it started shimmery quicksilver
fingers spiraling down to his own groin—
He'd stayed the rest of the night, slept with Mulder in his bed, though
they hadn't done anything more until morning. And even then, they hadn't
progressed past kissing, caressing and oral sex—Mulder'd been too hesitant
to try anything heavier than that their first time together, Mulder's first
time with another man, period—
It hadn't been part of the plan. The old man had ordered him to gain
Mulder's trust, and he'd already done that without sex entering the picture.
There had been no defensible reason for what'd happened the other night—
No reason other than that he'd wanted it. He'd wanted it from the moment
he'd walked into the Bureau bullpen and saw Mulder sitting there at his
desk, transcribing wiretap tape with those gorgeous long-fingered hands
of his—
And then he'd glanced up, making eye contact, gold-flecked hazel locking
on green—
And he'd started talking, words spilling from that full, sensual mouth
like diamonds onto black velvet—
And that had been it. Lust at first sight. Lust that'd kept him up every
night—literally—conjuring all sorts of seduction fantasies, frustrating
the hell out of him, finally forcing him to take matters into his own hands to relieve the pressure—
But it hadn't been enough. And it still wasn't enough, even now, especially
now that he'd had a taste of the real thing—
He hadn't expected this to happen, but then, he hadn't expected a lot
of things. He hadn't expected to kill anyone, and he sure as hell hadn't
expected to feel so... unmoved, indifferent about it when it'd finally happened.
He hadn't expected to feel the way he did now—like there was a lump
of something solid and burning lodged in his throat, and nothing he did
would get it to go up or down. Like the sight of Mulder's apartment building
looming there in front of him was enough to make his eyes start stinging, watering—
He pulled up at the curb, switched off lights and ignition, then just
sat there, staring out the windshield. Was this what regret felt like?
He didn't know. He'd never felt it before—at least, not like this, not
in such a dense, crushing wave that it hurt to breathe...
Mulder stirred, lifting his head from the seat cushions, blinking; he
must've dozed most of the way back, and Alex hadn't even noticed. "We home?"
"Yeah," Alex replied, getting out, swinging around to the other side
of the car just in time to keep Mulder from taking a headlong spill onto
the sidewalk. He was still shellshocked from everything that had happened
on the mountain. Alex could've kicked himself now for not having had the
presence of mind to ask the paramedics for a tranquilizer for him. Maybe
there was something upstairs in his medicine cabinet to help him sleep
through the night.
Somehow they stumbled to the elevator, down the hallway to Mulder's
apartment, got inside, then to the bedroom. Mulder hit the mattress with
all the grace of a lead weight, gazing up at Alex with breathless gratitude—
And an instant erotic image flashed before his eyes—the two of them,
tumbling together in these crisp cool sheets, skin to skin, mouths touching,
devouring—
No...not now, for Chrissakes...
Time to get this over with. Leaning down, he pulled off Mulder's shoes,
then started tugging his suit jacket off him—
Mulder stiffened a moment, then went completely limp, moving only when
necessary to help Alex strip him down to his boxers, finally rolling over
on his stomach in the middle of the bed, pulling a pillow under his head,
eyes fluttering closed.
Alex gathered up Mulder's clothes, hanging them over the back of a chair
as best he could, then headed for the bathroom. All he could find in the
way of sedatives was a year-old prescription of Darvocet, but he guessed
that'd do; not too strong, but it'd knock him out for a few hours, if nothing else. Two pills and a glass of water in hand, he padded back
into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Mulder's
shoulder.
"Hmmmm?" he growled, opening one bleary eye.
"Sit up a minute. I want you to take this."
"What is it?"
"Sleeping pills."
"Shit, Alex, I was already asleep—"
"You were dozing, not sleeping. C'mon, take 'em. You need a good night's
rest for a change."
Apparently that was all the argument he needed, for Mulder sat up, took
the pills from him and chased them down with a healthy slug of water, then
dropped back onto his pillow with a gusty sigh, eyelids drooping half-closed.
"You coming to bed soon?"
The question made his breath catch, his pulse quicken, but only for
a second. Mulder'd be asleep in maybe half an hour, and he could slip out
of here then, unhindered and unnoticed. "Yeah, in a few minutes. I...um,
just wanted to make sure you were okay first."
"Thanks," Mulder whispered—
And in the next second he felt warm skin brushing his wrist, then another
palm covering his, fingers softly intertwining. "You are gonna stay, right?"
Mulder asked.
He was about to reply, had another glib lie all ready to go, but somehow
the words got stuck halfway between his throat and his mouth.
"Alex?" Both deep hazel eyes were gazing at him now, hazy with incipient
drowsiness. "Don't go, okay? I'd rather not wake up alone tomorrow if you...um,
know what I mean."
"Okay," he said finally, giving their clasped hands a tiny squeeze.
What did a few more hours matter, really? He'd leave in the morning, early;
that'd still give him plenty of time...
Rising, he slid off the bed, untangling his hand from Mulder's, Mulder's
head jerking up as he did so. "I'm just gonna use the bathroom, then I'll
be right back, okay?"
"Okay."
The back of the bathroom door felt cool pressed against his forehead,
calming, quieting the sudden rush of blood in his temples, helping him
regain his equilibrium. He stripped quickly, all the way down to his briefs,
hanging his clothing on a hook on the back of the door, palm lingering
over the knob, wanting what awaited him in the bedroom, yet dreading it
at the same time...
He could do this...had to do this, for Mulder's sake. It was just comfort
and companionship, just for tonight. Affection, not sex—
No, not sex. They hadn't crossed that line—well, not all the way,
anyway—and they weren't about to, not now. This was going to be hell
enough for both of them without that kind of complication.
His mouth quirked up when he saw that Mulder had crawled under the covers
and moved over to the far side of the bed while he'd been out of the room,
leaving the covers pulled back, a pillow plumped up for him on the other
side. The cool sheets feathered his skin like a kiss, breath hissing gratefully from his lips as he sank into them, into the mattress.
He was just starting to nod off when he sensed Mulder shifting, rolling
over, felt an arm draping across his midriff, something soft and vaguely
moist touching the skin there—
Mulder's lips. Mulder's head, resting halfway between his belly and
chest, spiky hair tickling, cheek pressing against him like warm satin—
"Got lonely over there by myself," he mumbled, peering up with a woozy
little half-grin, "hope you don't mind..."
Dizziness spun him like the last car in a chain collision; he'd never
been so thankful for already being lying down. "Um...Mulder, I don't think
this is such a great idea..."
"Why not?"
"I can't see either of us getting any sleep like this—"
"I'm... um, comfortable enough, thank you," he murmured, snuggling closer,
then, with a tiny sigh, "g'night..."
He tried nudging Mulder, tried getting him to roll back over to his
own side of the bed, but it wasn't working—Mulder's arm had become dead
weight, and he'd already started snoring. Apparently the Darvocet had finally
decided to kick in.
And here he was, wide awake and likely to remain that way for the rest
of the night, with an unrelieved hard-on to boot, if the slow throbbing
in his groin was any indication—
Shit. Well, he'd asked for it, sticking around like this when he should
be a hundred miles away from here by now, two hundred—
Jesus, no...he didn't want to think about that, not about having to
leave, not now. Time for that would come soon enough...
He let his hand drift down, tousling, tangling in Mulder's hair. Light
chocolate-brown silk, so soft, shiny...beautiful. Just like the rest of
him...
His own breathing quieted, evened out, pulse twinning the rhythm he
could feel in Mulder's wrist resting on his belly. His hard-on had risen
to half-mast, a warm, insistent presence there between his legs, but not
demanding immediate attention just yet. God, it felt so sweet, so damn
good...
He wasn't even aware he'd fallen asleep until something shocked him
out of it, jolting him so hard he had to grab hold of the mattress to keep
from getting dumped onto the floor—
Mulder, tossing, thrashing in the sheets, whimpering piteously in the
throes of a nightmare—
Sliding over next to him, his front pressed to Mulder's back, he wrapped
his arms around him, holding him still, then started stroking his shoulders,
his arms, gently trying to wake him—
The sudden calming of his breathing told Alex he'd succeeded, but aside
from that, there was no other sign that Mulder even knew he was there.
"You okay?" he asked finally, brushing his lips across the nape of Mulder's
neck.
"Yeah, I guess. I had a dream..."
"No kidding?"
That made them both chuckle, a faint, raspy sound that died quickly.
"Want to talk about it?"
"I...um, don't think I can..."
"Try."
The breath he took sounded more like a sob, rattling all the way down
into his chest, its rawness making Alex wince. "It was...it was Scully...I
saw her lying on this...I guess it was a table, a surgical table, and they were doing things to her..."
Oh Jesus...oh God, not this...
"They?" he prompted, not wanting to but needing to, needing to hear
it all, all the horror in his mind, waiting for a clue, something, anything
to help him through it. "Who were they? Who was doing this to her?"
"Don't know, I couldn't see them...but they were hurting her, I could
hear her screaming, calling out to me to help her, and I tried but...I
couldn't find her. It was like I was trapped inside this giant hall of
mirrors...and every time I got close, her image shattered..." The pain
inside him let loose then; he turned his face to the pillow, burying it
there, hands grabbing, twisting the sheets. "It's all because of me. If
I'd just left her alone, stayed out of contact with her after they'd broken
us up, none of this would've—"
"You don't know that. You can't blame yourself—"
"Yeah, well, if you can think of somebody better to blame, be my guest."
He could, but he couldn't say it.
"If she's dead...it's on me, Alex, all on me. And I'm gonna carry it..."
They didn't say anything more for a long time, just lay there spooned
together, Alex softly kissing Mulder's neck and shoulders, stroking, soothing
him until his crying finally subsided and he rolled over, looking up at
Alex, hazel eyes still liquid, fathomless, rimmed with red now—
And his mouth swooped down on Mulder's with brutal, drugging intensity,
tongue thrusting between eagerly parted lips—
Light-headedness overwhelming him at the sweet, smoky taste waiting
for him there, another tongue dueling with his, warm, languid sweep and
slide of wet velvet—
Another hand snaking down, fingertips trailing lightly over his chest,
his belly, making him shiver, moving lower, down to the waistband of his
briefs, slipping inside, enveloping, grasping him—
And he pulled back abruptly, breaking the kiss, breath coming in ragged,
tortured gasps. No, he couldn't do this, not now, not when he had to—
"What's wrong?" Mulder asked, reaching up, cupping, caressing his cheek,
his throat.
"I'm, uh...not ready for this..."
"Sure as hell feels like you are," he replied, half-grinning, his other
hand gently squeezing his erection. "C'mon, Alex, I want you..."
"Mulder—"
"I want you to do me."
Something in his voice, some faint, whisper-light undertone he'd never
heard from him before shot straight up his spine, lodging in the back of
his brain, stinging there like the tip of an icepick. "Wh-what?"
"Make love to me...the way you wanted to the other morning."
Oh, God, oh, Jesus, this is too much, way too much for any sane man
to bear... maybe if I just close my eyes for a second, a minute all this'll
go away—
But he did, and it didn't. He was still there, and so was Mulder, staring
up at him with such open, naked desire in his eyes—
"You sure?" he asked. "I mean, the other day you said you weren't ready—"
"I'm ready now. I want to know how it feels, how you feel...and I want..."
Breath snagging, Mulder paused, eyes flashing pain. "I just want to forget
everything else for a little while, like I did when you were here the other night...God, it felt so damned good..."
So it was solace he really wanted, not sex, though he was willing to
accept what small measure of it he could find there; Alex supposed it was
as fair an exchange as any. "S'okay, Mulder...I'm here now, and I'm not
going anywhere," he whispered, leaning in for a kiss, slow and sweet and
deep, tracing Mulder's lower lip with the tip of his tongue, sucking it
into his mouth, feeling suddenly as if he'd just jumped from a 747 without
a parachute—
And he didn't care. Even the lie he'd just told barely pricked at his
conscience. He'd probably regret doing this at some point down the road,
but he could deal with that—
He'd never be able to deal with regretting not doing it...
He let his lips trail down, along the line of Mulder's jaw to his ear,
gently sucking, biting at the lobe, smiling at Mulder's gasp, at the way
his body arched to meet his, the way his head fell back against the pillows,
offering him freer access—
And he took advantage, moving lower, down his throat, pausing to lave
the artery throbbing there, down the lightly-furred plane of his chest,
palming, tweaking one nipple to pebbled stiffness, down to his navel, tongue
swirling, stabbing the soft, puckered indentation—
Hooking two fingers in the waistband of Mulder's boxers, slipping them
down and off, freeing his rising erection—
Stilling him with a touch when he tried to turn over. "Hey, take it
easy. I'm not done here yet."
"Yeah, you are. I want you in me when I come—"
"It may not happen the first time. You may not even like it."
"I'm liking it so far, aren't I?"
The hungry look on Mulder's face was more than enough to stay any further
protests on his part. "Roll over," he said, grabbing a pillow from his
own side of the bed as Mulder did so, then gesturing for him to lift up
his hips so he could slide it under him. Off Mulder's puzzled look, he
added, "trust me, this'll make it easier on both of us."
He stretched out on top of Mulder, taking his weight on one elbow, his
other hand beginning a leisurely exploration of every sleek millimeter
of Mulder's muscled back, mouth bestowing soft, wet kisses in its wake—
His erection making contact, rubbing the dimpled dip at the base of
Mulder's spine, the cleft of his ass. God, if he wasn't still wearing his
briefs, it'd be so easy to just spread him wide and take him, right here,
right now—
Apparently Mulder was having exactly the same idea, for he pushed upward,
arching his back, grinding his ass into Alex's crotch—
Making Alex grab hold of his hips to force him to stop. "Not yet. We're
not ready."
"I am."
"Jesus, Mulder, we're not running a race here. What kind of lover would
I be if I just reamed you out with no foreplay, huh?"
"Try the merciful kind."
"Mulder—"
"Just do it, Alex. I want you to." The glance he aimed over his shoulder
was the clincher—desperate, pleading, close to pain. "If you don't,
I'm gonna end up drilling a hole in this pillow."
He couldn't dive for the bedside table fast enough, ripping the drawer
open, rummaging inside, finally finding condoms and lubricant, opening
the tube, squirting some onto his fingers, shuddering slightly at the cool,
slippery feel of it—
Mulder bit down on his lip as Alex spread him open, smoothing gel into
his downy-soft crevice, gradually working one slick finger, then another
into him, all the way into him, stretching him, making him whimper, thrust
backward, impaling himself on Alex's hand—
And that was all it took. Alex nearly broke his foot getting his briefs
off, the white cotton tangling around one ankle, breath catching at the
sudden shock of cool air wafting over his throbbing erection, hands shaking
so badly he almost ripped the condom trying to get it on—
Mulder was ready, waiting for him, balancing himself on the palms of
his hands, the pillow raising his ass slightly higher than the rest of
him, lifting him for easier penetration. Alex moved behind him, positioning
himself, giving a little push, just enough to see the tip of his erection
disappear inside Mulder's tight opening—
Fireworks went off behind his eyes, slick, satiny heat enveloping him,
engulfing him, gripping him like a glove—
He let gravity do most of the work, sinking in with such excruciating
slowness he was sure he'd lose it any second, a small strangled sound issuing
from his lips when he finally met resistance and, glancing down, realized
he was in as far as he could go. Slowly, gently at first, he began to move,
picking up speed and momentum, rocking deeper with each endless stroke,
pulling all the way out, driving back in—
Leaning forward until he lay flat against Mulder's back, nipping at
the silken skin there at the curve of his throat, burying his face in spice-scented
hair, seizing a handful, dragging Mulder's head back for a bruising, dominating kiss—
Mulder gasped, moaned, hands scrabbling, bunching in the sheets, hips
flexing, rolling, meeting him thrust for thrust, pumping the pillow even
as Alex's hand snaked under him, grasping his weeping erection with lube-slicked
fingers, milking him, fucking him with his fist—
And he could feel it, right there in his hand, building at the base
of his spine, surging upward, ripping, unraveling them both at the same
time—
He didn't remember losing consciousness, but the next thing he was aware
of, he was lying on his back, Mulder curled up beside him, head resting
on his belly, breathing in sleep's slow, steady rhythm. Hazy streaks of
sunlight were pouring in through the curtains, grey tinged with gold, prompting him to steal a glance at Mulder's clock-radio. Five-forty
a.m.
Time to go.
He rolled Mulder off him with no trouble this time, turning him onto
his side, lying there a moment with him, spooned together, running a hand
over his shoulder, ruffling his hair, pressing a kiss to his throat. Mulder
stirred, groaned, then lay still.
He got up, went to the bathroom for his clothes, washed his hands and
face and got dressed, taking care not to look in the mirror, or at anything
in the bedroom as he walked back through it, through the living room, the
kitchen, out the front door.
His eyes didn't focus again until he reached the car, started it, put
it in gear, started driving. He'd gone ten miles before he realized he
had no idea where he was headed, but it hardly mattered. New place, new
name, new identity...it was all the same to him. Another life to be used
up and tossed away like a piece of Kleenex.
The morning air was brisk, biting, stinging his skin, sticking an icy
finger down the back of his neck. Shivering, he flicked on the heater,
flipping up his jacket collar. Funny, but it'd been colder than this up
on the mountain last night, and he hadn't felt it then...
But for some odd reason, he felt it now.
The End...
Angel III
Parting Gift
He watched as they rolled the sheet-covered gurney out of the lodge,
out to the ambulance, lifting it up and in, closing the doors on it, driving
away. The autumn air had turned crisp and cool, but it hardly fazed him.
He felt cold enough inside already.
He was tired, so tired it hurt to keep his eyes open—
