by Margaret
20th October 2001
Disclaimer: I don't own Alex or Klaus or even Methos and Dorian, I'm not entirely sure who does. Anyway this fic is not intended to infringe on any copyrights nor does it make any money.
Rated: NC-17 for m/m sex
Pairing:: Klaus/Krycek primarily, but also implied Methos/Krycek, Klaus/Dorian and maybe a little Methos/Dorian while I'm at it.
Notes: Totally Karen's fault for wanting Alex/Klaus... and
maybe Alex's too for proposing exactly how it could be done Klaus pulled a cigarette from his depleted pack and lit up, savouring that first hot rush of smoke. Another mission successfully completed with a minimum of complications. No Eroica this time and it was almost a relief, but strange at the same time. They had a different specialist in on this one, a contractor, one Dorian had claimed came highly recommended. A friend of a friend, but trustworthy nonetheless, or perhaps reliable was a better term. Klaus had been too relieved at the time to raise an objection to the unusual hiring procedure, not that he would have been able to find one the Chief couldn't overrule offhand.
He had been feeling more and more uncomfortable around the exasperating thief of late, due in no small part to a number of unsettling and highly emotive dreams that had crept into his normal sleep patterns somewhere along the way. By the time he had recognised the running theme of these dreams he had known he stood no chance of halting their regular occurrence. Now missions with Eroica had taken on an edge he wasn't sure how to deal with; he was actually *nervous* around the man and it showed in his temper. He wasn't entirely sure he was master of his own actions; it undermined his performance to the point where someone besides himself might notice - he wasn't entirely certain Z hadn't already, but the boy was wise enough not to comment.
This mission hadn't been Dorian's area of expertise, or rather it had, but it had also involved a number of rather more unsavoury skills for which the extravagant thief was entirely unsuited and he knew it. So Dorian had taken it upon himself to suggest an alternative - not a thief, but an infiltrator. A thief, a spy and an assassin; a man whose loyalties could be purchased for the right price apparently, but after careful observation Klaus was cautiously convinced that money or murder were not the man's main motivations. He'd probably never find out what were, since the man's exorbitant fee made it unlikely he'd be hired again. But even Klaus had to admit that they had got what they paid for - a consummate professional who was unfazed by pressure or heavy fire and possessed an almost sixth sense for danger during the whole months-long undercover operation. It was almost a shame the man wasn't interested in a job, but then there were so many questionable gaps in the file they had compiled on him that Klaus knew there was no way NATO could ever be persuaded to trust or even associate too closely with Alex Krycek.
"Wie geht's, Herr Eberbach?" The low rasp came out of the darkness a lot closer than he expected, but Klaus didn't let himself flinch - speak of the devil.
"Is that a genuine question or merely an attempt to annoy me?" he demanded, turning to the assassin as he stepped from concealment.
Krycek shrugged, "Whichever you prefer," he replied, unfazed by Klaus' manner.
Klaus blinked, in the months of their association Klaus had established that the assassin was nothing like Dorian. Krycek far preferred anonymity to Eroica's extravagant infamy, however he also had a dark sense of humour that showed itself at the most inopportune moments, namely when Klaus was unable to respond as he would have liked and that did remind him of the bane of his existence. The assassin did not goad him as Dorian did, but perhaps that was simply further proof of how successfully the thief had got under his skin, that even the most innocuous comments could provoke a disproportionately strong response in Klaus.
"It's going fine," he replied after a moment's consideration, addressing the first question, and indeed it was. The clean up had gone so smoothly that he was feeling rather at a loose end and that wasn't something he had a lot of tolerance for. Krycek merely nodded and settled himself against the wall, irritatingly close, but not enough to justify complaint yet. He did that a lot, Klaus had noticed, keeping just a little closer to the Major than Klaus was comfortable with, but he hadn't bawled the man out yet. Part of him wondered why, but he rather suspected verbal abuse would be a wasted effort.
"Those things'll kill you," Krycek offered with a nod for the cigarette slowly burning down between Klaus' fingers. Klaus kept his face smooth at the unexpected conversational opening - he hadn't thought Krycek was the type, much like himself, but perhaps there was a point to it. When Klaus said nothing Krycek merely shrugged and pulled his gun free, absently checking the clip, "Of course, so will these, so who am I to judge?"
Klaus cast a curious glance across at the assassin as the gun was holstered once again, only to find himself the focus of a pair of intent green eyes. "Was?" he asked unthinking and then was annoyed with himself for the lapse.
Krycek grinned, "I was just wondering if the rumours about you and Lord Gloria were true."
Klaus did flinch this time and then scowled ferociously at the seemingly unconcerned assassin. "*What* rumours?" he grated, though he had a strong suspicion. Krycek shrugged again, a carefully casual gesture that Klaus disbelieved immediately.
"That you and he are lovers."
Klaus bit back a curse, then shifted to regard the other man more closely, "I thought you were Eroica's friend - you should know that we are not." The last came out rather more forcefully than he had intended, he had no wish to appear less professional than the other man.
Krycek merely grinned, "I'm not a friend of Dorian's. I've only met him a couple of times through a mutual... acquaintance."
Klaus regarded him suspiciously, "And Dorian recommended you on that alone?" Eroica knew better than to risk his reputation and the goodwill of NATO like that.
Krycek's grin grew broader, "My friend can be very... convincing. Why else would I take a job like this?"
Klaus bristled at the vague insult, "Ich weiss nicht," he spat, "why don't you tell me." Krycek's grin subsided, but the humour in his eyes shifted into something Klaus found distinctly unsettling. If pressed he might have named it predatory, but there was something else there too that might have been amusement or affection. Not for the first time since the operation had begun, Klaus wished he knew more about Alex Krycek.
"Believe it or not Major, my interest was in you," Krycek's tone matched his eyes and again Klaus suppressed his immediate reaction.
Maybe he'd been associating with Dorian too long that he saw... invitation where there was none. Real or not though, he could not react to Krycek as he would to the thief - the man was too much of an unknown quantity and a dangerous one at that. Still... "That is what Dorian tells me," Klaus replied, testing the waters.
Krycek's grin returned, "I don't doubt it Major, you're an interesting man."
Klaus took a long draw from his cigarette to mask the way the sudden certainty solidified like lead in his gut. It appeared that Alex Krycek had more in common with the thief than Klaus had at first thought. He cast another sidelong glance at the assassin as an idea began to form in the recesses of his brain. It was habit more than anything else that curled his lips in a sneer, "I don't recall anything in your contract requiring those 'skills'." Strangely there was less bite in those words than he had expected, maybe it was only Dorian's presence that inspired to him to previously unmatched levels of verbal cruelty. The sudden stillness of his companion warned him that in this instance though, the words were enough. A raw nerve exposed in the assassin's otherwise imperturbable façade?
When Krycek spoke again, his soft voice had a flat, dead quality to it that only emphasised the fact that he was no Dorian Red. "Those 'skills' are not for sale, Major."
Klaus recognised the response too easily, it was his own and it unnerved him. Perhaps he had been looking at this all wrong, comparing Krycek to the thief when he should have been thinking in terms of himself. And with that realisation came the cold, creeping certainty that he had the assassin figured all wrong. Klaus dropped the cigarette butt and ground it out under his toe. "My... apologies, Herr Krycek, it was a... misunderstanding on my part." Green eyes narrowed and it could have been Klaus' imagination that there was the faintest hint of a smile on that disturbingly pretty face.
"Apology accepted Major, though I'm not sure what misunderstanding you're referring to. Assumption would have been a better term; I may be a mercenary, but I am no whore."
Uncomfortable with apologies in general, Klaus shifted, avoiding the assassin's eyes when he spoke again. "I have been associating with Eroica too often of late. His determined... pursuit has... coloured my perceptions."
To his surprise Krycek snorted, a half-laugh, "Rose-tinted, I don't doubt." Then he seemed to relax a fraction, his eyes glittering with amusement that Klaus strangely found himself sharing, it was nice to know he wasn't the only one Dorian exasperated. "Lord Gloria and I have few things in common Major, and while you may be one of them, rest assured that our tactics are not."
Klaus could feel his eyes betraying his surprise as the meaning of the assassin's words sank in. Krycek turned to him then with a smile that was unmistakably inviting and Iron Klaus felt his heart give a strange lurch as the faint wisp of a notion became suddenly a force to be reckoned with. "Turn me down and you'll never see me again, in fact you'll probably never see me again anyway," Krycek stated with calm certainty and no hint of bitterness or self-sacrifice. He might want it, but the assassin would lose no sleep over a rejection - it was a relief.
Klaus blinked and in that moment lost control of his mouth to the voice in the back of his head. "And if I do not? Turn you down."
Krycek's smile broadened, "Then I'm prepared to be gentle."
Klaus bridled and spoke without thinking, his pride stung. "I do not need *special* consideration," he spat the words like a curse.
The assassin's smile became a Cheshire Cat grin, "Then I can do that too." Before Klaus had time to reconsider his foolish words, a strong hand wrapped itself in his jacket and he was pulled forward, off balance, and into a kiss that was stronger than any he had experienced to date. He broke away with a gasp on the verge of finding himself actually responding to it; he freed himself from Krycek's grip easily and looked around furiously. No-one was anywhere near them and no-one had seen. His gaze flickered back to the assassin and was not entirely surprised to see the man return his look completely unconcerned, demonstrating all the patience of his profession. Strangely, it was enough to settle Klaus' temper and that was enough to make him think.
Part of Klaus regretted that he had been so averse to Dorian at the time that he had successfully blotted the memory of the thief's kiss from his mind. He remembered the fact of it all too well, but not the sense and perhaps fortunately he also no longer clearly recalled the disgust he knew he had felt at the time. It was almost as if it had happened to someone else while he had merely looked on, but it left him with no basis for comparison. On the other hand, it meant he could do this without his... feelings for Dorian colouring his perceptions; he would be in control of himself here as he was sure he could not be with the thief. Klaus glanced again at the assassin, briefly grateful that Krycek was allowing him this breathing space; he wondered if the man had any idea how long it had taken Klaus to reach the point where he could actually seriously consider this. Possibly. The man seemed to know Dorian well enough to know that one would have to have some very good reasons for turning him down so often. Klaus' objections had been strong, but he had since come to realise that they had not in fact been very good.
He blinked and looked up as Krycek shrugged away from the wall, "I have a few things to take care of," the assassin announced. He flicked a business card at Klaus, which he caught easily; it belonged to a small motel on the outskirts of town. "When you're ready - room 8. The offer's good till sunrise." Without another word Krycek walked away, melting back into the shadows of the warehouse. Around him the clean up operation was drawing to a close, another hour maybe and Klaus would be officially off duty and his time would be his own, as much as it ever was. Klaus took the last cigarette from his pack and lit up, turning the small rectangle of card over and over and over in his hands.
*** The motel was no different from any other the world over, slightly shabby and totally nondescript. It offered anonymity to any and all, from adulterers to assassins; Klaus preferred the latter, they were at least honest in what they did. It didn't surprise him that room 8 was the last on the block; a neighbour on one side only, if the room was even occupied. It was very late or very early depending on your perspective and Klaus had just spent the last few hours contemplating what was, in all probability, stupidity of epic proportions. Yet he had still come to the conclusion that he had to try it, if only for his own peace of mind. He was reasonably sure that Krycek had no interest in advertising the liaison, the man was too secretive himself, but even if he should be of a mind, his silence could be bought.
Klaus walked slowly up to the door, he'd left his car at the McDonalds two blocks down, part of it was caution, the other part was delaying the inevitable. The windows of the room were dark, but he very much doubted the assassin was asleep. He loosened his gun in its holster out of habit as he took the two steps up to the door. As expected it swung open even as he raised his fist to knock.
"Herr Eberbach," the velvet rasp slid out of the interior darkness and Klaus suppressed a shiver at the promise it held, the promise he had chosen to accept. The repercussions were as limited as he could make them, no-one would know besides the two of them. The consequences to himself... well, that was the reason he was here - to find out what those consequences might be.
He could only make out the bare outline of the assassin in the meagre light that passed beyond the threshold, but he heard the faint sound of a safety clicking into place. It was the odd reassurance of that familiar sound that allowed him to step inside, not because it meant Krycek was less likely to shoot him, but because the man was cautious even with the expected. Krycek was too much like him and if it was so in this, then might he not be like the assassin in other ways.
"Herr Krycek, I have decided to take you up on your offer," he stated, taking refuge in formality as the door closed behind him and his eyes adjusted to the gloom.
"I guessed as much Major, you wouldn't have come otherwise," Krycek replied as he glided soundlessly past Klaus' shoulder to turn on the bedside lamp.
Klaus winced a little at the sudden glare, even as Krycek dimmed it to its lowest setting. He watched the assassin place his silenced gun on the bedside table within easy reach of the bed. Klaus contemplated the man for a moment; he had obviously showered and changed since returning, though he still wore the anonymous t-shirt and jeans of his profession. Jacketless and barefoot, but Klaus knew better than to mistake it for vulnerability. With slow, deliberate movements Klaus slid his own gun from its holster and placed it next to the assassin's. He turned in time to catch the quick smile on the other's face at the gesture. There was understanding between them, not trust exactly, but something close - professional respect.
Slowly Klaus looked the man up and down, only now where it was safe, allowing himself to see the man as anything other than a fellow professional. It was... difficult to let that overlaying perception disappear, it lowered shields he wasn't entirely sure he was prepared to let go. At the same time, though, it was easier than he had expected, knowing all he needed to know of Krycek's motives in this, it freed him to appreciate the aesthetic without other concerns interfering. And aesthetically speaking, the assassin was... no hardship on the eyes. It somehow didn't surprise him that Krycek bore the study with more patience than Klaus could have managed had their positions been reversed and strangely enough he was grateful for it. For all the time he had already spent thinking about it, Klaus still needed time to accept the reality of his decision.
The assassin was of a height with Klaus, but he was broader across the shoulders and chest; a powerful frame with the skills to make best use of it. What that would equate to in a lover, Klaus had no idea. In his mind, all Klaus' prejudices had equated homosexuality with weakness and effeminacy, an image that Dorian had done nothing to dispel. The reality of Alex Krycek shook that illusion to its foundations as surely and effectively as the man destroyed lives. But it was the man's face that caught Klaus' eyes, strangely because it was something he normally paid little attention to beyond the basic requirements of recognition.
Krycek did not have the face of a killer; it was probably at least partly why the man was so successful at it. He'd overheard members of the Alphabet refer to the assassin as a pretty boy and if Klaus hadn't known better he might have thought the same. There was something in the combination of features that gave the impression of softness, but Klaus did know better and what drew his attention were the eyes. Dorian would probably have used the same ridiculous hyperbole he used for Klaus' own eyes; jade, emerald, vibrant or verdant, sparkling with fire and fury or some such nonsense. To Klaus they were simply green. What he saw was the hardness behind them that belied the baby face, the calculation and, oddly enough, the non-judgemental acceptance that allowed him to take that final step and close the distance between them.
Without giving himself time to second guess, Klaus leaned in and returned the kiss Krycek had first given him; a quick press of closed lips that suddenly became much more. It shocked him how easily the man allowed him this intimacy and how quickly he found himself responding to it. He had been brought up to believe in established rules of courtship, in the formalities of love, but they had all applied to women. It was... liberating to discard such restrictions along with the mysteries of the female mind. His hand was in Krycek's hair when he pulled away to draw breath and it surprised him that he had no recollection of putting it there - as surprising as the fact that the assassin had made no protest at the blatant overstepping of bounds. Something of what he felt must have been visible on his face because Krycek began to chuckle, a reassuringly warm sound, even though the slight movement made Klaus aware of just how close they had shifted. "Klaus..."
Klaus blinked, not sure if he was comfortable with the intimacy of given names, but it seemed ridiculous to object given what they planned to do. "I'm not interested in anything that isn't mutual, it's too much work. I'm not some fainting flower, if I don't like what you're doing I'll *tell* you, I expect you to do the same."
Klaus frowned, not sure if he should be annoyed by the fact that Krycek... Alex obviously felt the need to state such things or thankful that he had been given clear guidelines without the awkwardness of having to ask. He settled for shoving both emotions to the back of his mind and giving a simple nod in response. Unless either of them said otherwise they both had free reign. Krycek... Alex obviously knew what he was doing, Klaus just as obviously did not, but he had been given tacit permission to experiment and that was all he required. The assassin's eyes narrowed for a moment, assessing, then he nodded, taking Klaus' agreement at face value and moving in for another kiss. This time Klaus was finally able to push his concerns and his analytical mind away and just enjoy the experience on a purely physical level.
Alex tasted of coffee and cinnamon; the full lips were firm and strong, sure of their skill as Klaus found himself opening without thought to admit a truly adept tongue. He gasped a breath around the intruder before a sudden surge of hunger made him draw it deeper, secretly revelling in the passion so freely offered to him. It had been offered before, but never so honestly or with so few consequences. He reversed the kiss, pushing back to sample the interior of his new lover's mouth as thoroughly as his own had been explored. There were hands on his hips, warm and hard, holding him firmly, but not trapping him. He couldn't mind when he realised his own fingers had once again sought the short, thick strands of Alex's hair as if to prevent his escape. He somehow kept expecting it to be longer.
A pause for breath and then he was diving deep again, enjoying the warm, slick pleasure of another's welcome mouth. For years rigid discipline and the solitary comfort of his own right hand had been enough to achieve the necessary release. This was... different, more; a whole vista of forgotten possibilities had opened up with the simple visceral pleasure of a kiss. The body beneath his hands was solid and warm, the flex and play of muscle under thin cotton was more reassuring than frightening. Klaus wouldn't... *couldn't* break him by accident.
Alex stroked up Klaus' sides beneath his jacket, a firm appreciative touch, confident of its welcome and justifiably so. Agile fingers slipped beneath the straps of his empty holster, stripping it off together with his jacket with only the bare minimum of assistance from Klaus. The necessary shift in position as the jacket went was an opportunity Alex took to press his advantage and his thigh nudged between Klaus' legs, encouraging the growing hardness there. Klaus bit the assassin's full lower lip rather than his own in response, even as he twisted his hips seeking greater contact and feeling the corresponding hardness within Krycek's pants... Another nudge made him break the kiss to seek more oxygen and his fingers tightened hard on Alex's shoulder and nape.
Tiny nips along his jaw gave Klaus enough of a breather to gather his neglected wits only to find them scattering again when the exploring mouth reached his ear and wet warmth closed over the lobe. The tease of teeth made him arch against the assassin's body. He was aching now and hot, strangely relieved that he was being given no opportunity to stop and think. His hands burrowed beneath the grey cotton and found surprising pleasure in the way Alex shuddered and pressed closer still when Klaus trailed callused fingertips up the damp skin of his spine. Gott! It shouldn't feel this good, but it did and Klaus was fleetingly glad he had accepted Alex's offer rather than waiting until the next time Dorian made a nuisance of himself. Adding emotional investment to what seemed an already volatile mix would surely have been disastrous.
As Alex's fingers nimbly worked the buttons of his shirt, Klaus dimly felt that first times should be more awkward than this, he certainly recalled a good deal more embarrassed fumbling with his first lover. Maybe it was simply because this time his lover was a man and neither expected nor needed the careful seduction his first lover had demanded as her due. But then she had been a lady of his father's choosing and Klaus could hardly imagine his father approving of Alex Krycek. The man was so far off the wrong side of the tracks he probably didn't even acknowledge their existence. It was... refreshing, if a little alien to Klaus' background.
His shirt was gone now the way of the jacket and Klaus found he needed to assert a little control of his own and with a sharp tug to the hem of Alex's t-shirt, he made his wishes known. He felt his lover's grin as a baring of teeth against his throat that made his cock twitch within the confines of his underwear, just before Alex stepped back and shed the t-shirt without hesitation. In the dim light of the lamp, the assassin's skin glistened with a faint dew of perspiration, the flushed skin of his chest and stomach contrasting starkly with the black jeans. Klaus' eyes lingered on the snug denim quite without his willing it, noting the powerful thighs and the tell-tale bulge at the crotch. His mouth went dry, but he couldn't tell if it was anticipation or dread. Alex said nothing, but reached out, tracing a finger along the neck of Klaus' undershirt, flirting with the sensitised skin beneath. Whether or not it was meant as such, Klaus took it as a challenge, using his competitive drive to overcome the sudden apprehension he felt at discarding some measure of protection, however flimsy.
As the undershirt joined the shirt and jacket on the floor Klaus glimpsed Krycek's face and straightened under the regard. He kept himself in good shape, he knew, but it was still unsettling to see the open appreciation in the assassin's eyes. He'd seen it in Dorian's face before, but the man was so frivolous it was hard to take anything he said or did as sincere. Alex was an accomplished liar, of that he had no doubt, but he didn't do so without purpose and there was nothing to be gained by flattery or by hiding. Absurdly Klaus felt a blush rising and quelled it firmly as he reached for the belt of his almost painfully tight pants, determined to reclaim some of the initiative for himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Krycek's hands begin a similar task. In a frighteningly short space of time he was skimming the light fabric down his legs, pulling his underwear with it, impatient for too many reasons to decipher. When he looked up again it was impossible to ignore the reality of what was happening as he faced another man, naked and erect. For a shaming moment, panic overwhelmed him and he knew himself on the verge of bolting, clothes or no.
As if he had been waiting for just that moment when Klaus' attention split between internal and external, Alex moved with shocking speed, tackling the surprised Major to the bed. For a split second Klaus tensed, ready to throw the assassin off, to shoot him if necessary, the guns were both still within reach. But beyond that moment he felt the clamourings of his body, starved too long of the touch, never mind the pleasure, another willing body could provide. Alex's weight covered him, but Klaus wasn't pinned and he knew he could push the assassin off if he wished, but when he caught the man's eyes he saw only honest curiosity as he waited for Klaus' reaction. It was comforting in some strange way that Krycek had no fear of him - a harsh look was usually all it took to send the Alphabet running for cover for no earthly reason. Here the assassin was doing things far in excess and was apparently not the least concerned that Klaus' reaction might be unfavourable. Shamed by his foolish nerves, near enough to rank cowardice to have him inwardly seething at himself, Klaus decided to definitively stamp on his second thoughts. He had claimed not to need any special consideration, but thus far nearly every action had belied it - this would stop now.
Reflexes more used to danger than pleasure kicked in as he reached up quickly, his hands wrapping around Krycek's head, dragging the assassin off balance and into a fierce kiss. There was an instant of stunned immobility and then Alex was matching him, aggression for aggression, heat for heat, as their bodies pressed together, hard and hungry. Klaus' hands were moving without conscious direction now, dragging down the length of Alex's sweat-damp spine before moving out to test the strength of the broad sweeps of muscle. Alex's own hands were taking his weight, but that didn't stop the man from initiating a few touches of his own, lower down.
A muscled thigh nudged Klaus' legs apart, stroking oh so casually against the hard length of Klaus' cock as it did so. Klaus shifted a little allowing the firm caress as Alex lowered himself a little more, bringing more skin into contact. The extra weight bothered Klaus less than the hot, slick touch of Alex's erection where it nudged his belly. Unthinkingly he snaked a hand down to move it away or... something, but when he touched the heated length and elicited a faint moan from the assassin, he found his fingers instead curling around the eager flesh. Some part of his brain noted heat and girth and the pulse of Alex's blood, familiar and yet completely alien. Strangeness aside, he found his hand following the rhythms and pressures he himself liked, and was surprised when the assassin buried his face in Klaus' neck as his hips began to move almost involuntarily. It was... exhilarating and terrifying, like the rollercoasters he had so wanted to ride as a child, that his father had always said were too dangerous, too frivolous and too common. If things went well tonight Klaus promised himself a ride on the biggest rollercoaster he could find - maybe he'd even take Dorian along for the trip. It was an idea with promise and he grinned to himself.
Krycek's warm, whiskey chuckle teased across his skin, "And you missed this about yourself how?"
Klaus twisted his head to meet the laughing green eyes, not entirely sure how to take the words. Alex's grin bared teeth, "If I didn't know better, Herr Major, I'd think you'd done this before," he elaborated.
Klaus had no idea how to react to a compliment like that; flushing a bit he cursed his fair skin. "I have simply had a lot of practice, although I must admit, not in this context." It surprised a laugh from the assassin, who retaliated by stealing a kiss and most of Klaus' breath with it.
"Practice is good, but I think expanding your repertoire could be highly rewarding." And with that Alex slithered down Klaus' body and off the edge of the bed, onto his knees between Klaus' spread legs and with no further preamble took Klaus' cock into his mouth all the way down to the root. Iron Klaus, hardened NATO officer, screamed. The assassin glanced up, a wicked glitter in his eyes, and Klaus exercised his store of swear words, mangling his languages in the effort to adequately express himself. "Verdammt bastard... Huhrensohn... fucking pricktease!"
Alex drew up slowly, obviously savouring, and Klaus fell back onto the bed as the tension vanished from his body as quickly as it had arrived. "Such language Major, I bet you don't talk to Mischa like that," he mock-scolded.
Klaus struggled to breathe well enough that his reply was comprehensible. "Mischa has never done that to me before."
Alex grinned again, catlike in the gloom, "His loss," and with that he slid his tongue up the length of the sensitive flesh to probe the weeping tip. Klaus bucked helplessly, almost throwing the assassin off and broad callused hands wrapped tight around Klaus' narrow hips, stilling them as Krycek began to work in earnest. The assassin proved to be as proficient with his tongue as he was with every other weapon in his arsenal and Klaus was sure it had claimed as many victims, though he didn't doubt these had been more than willing.
A low, raw sound escaped his throat as his hands found Krycek's head and pressed down, surprised when the other man willingly acceded, swallowing Klaus whole until the officer was struggling to breathe past the sensations it evoked in him. He couldn't last long like this and it irked him a little that he probably wasn't supposed to. Perhaps it had been a mistake to pick someone as obviously experienced as Krycek, his own pride got in the way of the pleasure he could so easily receive.
The ripple of his lover's throat around his length had Klaus fisting the sheets, white-knuckled in his need. Then the wet heat withdrew and Klaus gasped at the cool air that wrapped around the burning length of his cock. Alex smirked briefly before leaning in again to tongue the weeping head, making Klaus writhe under the contrasting sensations of hot tongue and cool air. Sweet torment, not just in actions, but in attitude, and he knew it could be so good if he could only let go long enough to appreciate it. He and Krycek were too alike; Klaus knew the assassin's tactical brain had no more shut down than his had. The loss of control was a weakness or perhaps not a weakness, but a foolishness in a situation like this, yet there was no help for it. Klaus had made his bed and while he didn't plan to sleep in it exactly, the choice had been made freely. As Alex began to rhythmically deep throat him he could only hope to equalise their foolishness somewhere along the way, make Alex lose as much control as Klaus had. Inspiration and revelation hit with his climax, blinding in a way he had never before enjoyed, and he clung to its promise even as he lost himself to the moment.
Fit as he was, Klaus was still gasping like a landed fish when he eventually came back to himself to see Alex smiling surprisingly softly. But the momentary lapse, if lapse it was, vanished behind a Cheshire Cat smile as the assassin slowly licked his lips, evidently savouring more than just the experience. Klaus blinked, swallowed and blinked again before he found his voice for the inspiration he had to share. "Fuck me."
It was Alex's turn to blink, his surprise only evident in the slight widening of his pupils, now so dark only the thinnest rim of green remained. Klaus wasn't sure if he was surprised or not when Alex didn't question, but took him at his word, sliding over Klaus' body in a voluptuous slither that screamed sensuality, to reach for previously unnoticed items on the far bedside cabinet. It took an effort of will for Klaus not to tense at the realisation of intent, despite his avowed interest. A soft smirk and a fleeting kiss as the assassin slid back down, seemed to allay the fears that fought Klaus' post-orgasmic languor. Capable hands trailed a confident touch over the planes of Klaus' carefully sculpted body with evident and honest appreciation - it settled him further. Alex's mouth drifted closer, offering teasing kisses before whispering hotly against Klaus' kiss-swollen lips. "Any preference?"
It took the Major's brain a moment to parse the assassin's meaning and Klaus was absurdly glad the room was dark enough to disguise his flush of embarrassment even if he couldn't find the voice to answer. He shook his head mutely. Krycek didn't seem to notice Klaus' momentary discomfort or at least accorded his lover the illusion of ignorance. That small respect encouraged Klaus to let his own hands explore, confident enough of Alex's responses now to risk seeking his lover's pleasure. A stuttering purr was his reward as Klaus' hand closed once more around Alex's cock. So strange and yet so very familiar. He tried an experimental squeeze of the hard flesh and felt an absurd flush of pride at the low, greedy sound that escaped the assassin's lips.
Klaus knew what that felt like. It was so much simpler than making love to a woman; he didn't need to decipher the cues in a body so different from his own. He *knew* what Alex felt when he made that needy sound in the back of his throat because he'd done it himself not so very long ago. He knew what it felt like to be this hard and was reassured by the obvious physical evidence of Alex's enjoyment of his touch. It took surprisingly little effort to roll the assassin to his back, Klaus straddling his thighs as Alex arched up into a grip far more accustomed to holding a gun than another man's cock. Hands moving slowly, but with increasing confidence, Klaus snorted lightly, catching himself off guard with his own humour and wondering if there wasn't something perverted in the way he kept thinking in terms of weaponry. Occupational hazard or his own special twist to Dorian's acknowledged realm of perversion and did it really matter...
Klaus was all for privacy in principle as well as practice, his private life was strictly that. Why had he never realised the benefits of such a policy? He could pursue this and, in all likelihood, no-one would have a clue that anything had changed. It was a comfort and a freedom, so much so that he allowed the assassin to roll him onto his back without complaint, pressing his cock snug against Klaus' hip. Knowing he was as sure now as he would probably ever be, Klaus gave voice to the building urgency between them. "Now. Fuck me now." He felt his lover's agreement in the twitch of the hard shaft against him and the sudden dampness of the leaking flesh. Again he was surprised by the absence of any need to translate the response - it was so easy and natural. Distracted by his own thoughts, Klaus was surprised to feel the firm, slick touch of Alex's fingers pressing entrance - too much respect, at least that was what he thought it was, to question Klaus' decision.
"Relax Major or this will do more than hurt," the voice was a low rumble against his throat sending unexpected shivers through Klaus as he struggled to obey, knowing better than to argue from a position of ignorance. Relaxation was well-nigh impossible in such a strange situation, but he had spent decades training his body to obedience in all things and his earlier climax helped in no small measure. A finger slid suddenly and unexpectedly deep and Klaus couldn't help the way his entire body locked rigid at the intrusion.
"Gott!" he choked, straining up and away until a light touch to his hip eased him back down onto the unfamiliar fullness. Klaus focused on bringing his gasping breaths back under some semblance of control and opened his eyes to meet a steady green gaze fronting a carefully banked heat. Despite everything, Klaus took a certain satisfaction in noting that the assassin was not nearly so unaffected as he seemed to be. "More," he demanded hoarsely, acknowledging the rush it gave him.
Krycek's lips curved up in a half-smirk as he withdrew the finger only to replace it with two. Klaus cried out in as much pain as shock, it *hurt*. Then the second finger withdrew and he gasped in relief, feeling his body throb in time with remembered pain. Krycek's smirk had a hard edge this time, "Don't rush the expert, Major," he admonished even as the single finger began a steady motion.
With an effort Klaus stifled a retort and tried to relax into the alien sensations Krycek was evoking in him. By the time Krycek himself had decided to move to two fingers it registered as little more than a momentary twinge of discomfort. Then Klaus was arching into that demanding touch, making demands of his own as Krycek flirted with his prostate, sending light showers of sparks across his nervous system. Alex's grinning face appeared in his line of vision, not smug exactly, but obviously fully aware of the reaction he was inciting. Klaus sneered, laying down the challenge before he stopped to consider the wisdom of it; some habits were harder to break than others it seemed. The glitter in his lover's green eyes told him louder than words that his challenge had been accepted, the tongue that gently lapped at his flaccid cock was a mere formality.
Between the twin ministrations of fingers and tongue it did not remain soft for very long and Klaus was unable to hold back the moan that escaped as Alex took the hardening flesh into his mouth once more. Throat rippling wide around him in counterpoint to the steady movement of his fingers. Klaus groaned deeply as he graduated from two fingers to three with barely a twinge. His hips were moving of their own volition, up into the wet heat of Alex's mouth and down onto the impaling digits. He might have objected to the way Alex had so easily turned him into some kind of slut, but the transformation seemed to have also sent his moral compass spinning. Right and wrong had become good and bad and there was no way he could convince his body that this was anything but good.
Klaus groaned again in loss as he slipped from Alex's mouth and one hand reached automatically for his needy flesh only to be intercepted and pressed to the bed. He forced his eyes open in time to meet the assassin's steady gaze as Krycek slicked and covered his own cock in readiness. A few fearful protests tried to rear their heads, but Klaus stomped on them hard without even thinking about it. Much desired satisfaction neared in the form of the assassin's heavy cock and he felt a pang of emptiness as the fingers were withdrawn. The blunt touch of Alex's cock against his entrance barely warranted a first thought, never mind a second, and when instructed to do so Klaus bore down without hesitation, surprised at the ease of the penetration. Having established his own lack of objection to the proceedings, Klaus focused on his lover's face and was surprised and gratified to see the obvious effort there as Krycek pushed slowly in. The man had to be desperate for it, after all that had happened this evening; Klaus was very ready for it and he'd already come once.
Sweat dripped from the assassin's face to splash lightly on Klaus' chest and with a generosity that surprised him, Klaus shifted beneath the other man, spreading his legs further and canting his hips, trying to make it easier for the assassin. Needing to do something with his hands, Klaus began to run them over the sweat slick body above him and received an oddly grateful smile as Alex pushed in the last few inches rather quicker than he had begun. For a moment Klaus found it hard to breathe, the sensation of fullness was alien, but strangely good, and he felt the need to establish just how good... in a moment, when he caught his breath.
Alex's bowed head lifted and he met Klaus' eyes with a direct look, "Ready?" Klaus nodded, appreciative of the direct approach, and then gasped as Alex shifted and the movement within him sent sparks up his spine. Krycek's hands gripped his thighs and lifted and Klaus was quick enough to take the cue and wrap his legs high around the other man's ribs. The position gave him better leverage to respond as well as taking some of the strain from his back, even if it felt ridiculous. Krycek's first stroke was slow and easy, experimental, Klaus understood, testing the boundaries for both of them. The second thrust was harder, scraping over his prostate and making him arch, glad now of where his legs were as he tightened them, it offered some measure of control and while he wasn't entirely sure he needed it, he was glad to have the option. The third thrust involved a little more participation on his part as he tightened his legs in time with the movement, drawing Krycek further and faster than he had obviously intended, judging from the gasp that escaped. Krycek didn't seem to mind overmuch though and his next thrust was more what Klaus had in mind, he signified his approval by dragging the assassin's face down and proceeding to thoroughly examine his tonsils. It degenerated rapidly from there.
Klaus wasn't aware of what was happening exactly; there was heat and slick skin, strength and hunger, his nervous system seemed to be short circuiting and his brain was going with it. His cock was leaking constantly and the drops that fell to his belly were like acid to his sensitised skin, when his hand closed around it, it felt so good he almost screamed, the sensation forcing his eyes open again. Krycek's face was flushed with effort, wet with sweat and Klaus remembered his challenge, remembering came simultaneous with action and he arched hard, gripping tightly with his legs, forcing the assassin to push harder, faster. The move rewarded him with a shocked groan from the assassin and Klaus echoed it, adding the final touch in an unintentionally breathless gasp, "Tiefer! Tiefer! Now!" He pumped his cock furiously, his climax powering through him as he saw the assassin lose whatever grip he'd had, a confused, multilingual babble of obscenity pouring from the mouth that had pleasured him. The thrusts came short and sharp, fast and hard, pounding against his prostate until all he could see were stars. The whole universe was spinning out of control, so did it really matter that neither of them had any left either.
Klaus came back to himself slowly; he was wet with sweat and semen, his pounding heart echoed in his ears and his exhausted body didn't seem to be obeying his commands. Opening his eyes took more effort than he would have believed possible and they confirmed what his other senses had told him. Krycek was slowly levering himself off Klaus and for a moment their eyes met. Krycek looked like Klaus felt, exhausted and messy, but definitely no complaints otherwise. Strangely he found himself smiling, an actual genuine smile, it seemed to surprise Krycek as much as it did himself - that was good because Klaus didn't think he could take being the only one off balance right now.
Then Krycek straightened a little more, "This might hurt a little," he warned and Klaus wasn't entirely sure what he meant until he felt the twinge in his ass as Krycek withdrew, stripping the condom off and throwing it into the trash. Klaus shifted on the bed, considering the soreness he felt. Krycek must have seen something in his expression because he spoke again, "24 hours - next time won't be so bad."
Klaus narrowed his eyes, "What makes you think there will be a next time?"
Krycek grinned as he got up and crossed to the bathroom, "Because I know Dorian and I can guess why you did this. Besides, aren't you curious what it felt like for me?"
Klaus frowned at the closed bathroom door - that was a point. He'd chosen to be fucked because that was the worst that could happen, the thing he was most afraid of in his contemplations of Eroica's pursuit. And being fucked had turned out to be a rewarding experience with a skilled partner and while he didn't actually know if Eroica was as skilled as Krycek had proven to be, the man had had enough practice that he damned well ought to be. Alex had certainly seemed to enjoy doing the fucking and Klaus was fairly certain they were similar enough that he could be reasonably sure he would too, fewer issues of vulnerability if nothing else - that had to make it easier.
Krycek exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam, rubbing a towel through his hair, unselfconscious in his nudity and Klaus suddenly realised he was lying naked on a hotel bed, smeared with bodily fluids. It took slightly more effort than he would have liked to head for the bathroom at a reasonable pace and not just bolt for it, but if the assassin noticed he gave no sign. With the door safely closed behind him, Klaus felt somewhat better. He stepped into the still wet cubicle and twisted the controls until the water pressure was just short of tenderising. He let his mind blank as he began to wash himself, cataloguing the unaccustomed aches.
He left the bathroom with a towel wrapped tight around his waist and another around his shoulders, but his modesty was unnecessary, the room was empty, Krycek's clothes and weapons as absent as the man himself. He had really expected nothing less of the assassin. Their arrangement had nothing to do with sentimentality, neither of them had any place for it in their lives. Their personal circumstances required circumspection, caution even, in most things, respecting that was worth far more than a bouquet and some insincere promises. Something that Dorian had never grasped, or perhaps... the man was a professional too, if Klaus appealed to that side of the man rather than the extravagant, extroverted persona that was the Eroica of reputation. If Klaus took that step with the thief, would Dorian really be so obvious in his success or would that everyday wanton frivolity actually hide any change in their relationship.
Klaus considered it as he dressed, it made a disturbing amount of sense... Eroica hid in plain sight, could a relationship between them do likewise? Uncharacteristically, Klaus found himself smiling, now he knew his own reactions to what Dorian so often suggested, it might well be worth the risk to make an enquiry or two - after all, Dorian had years of experience on Klaus in hiding... and a few other things as well. One of the basic requirements of any successful mission was information and now he had that, Klaus was sure that by the next time he saw the Earl of Gloria, he would be able to present the thief with his decision.
*****Epilogue***** "Alex, darling!"
Alex cringed inwardly at the hail, but at least it made it easier to spot their table in the crowded club and he made his way there swiftly to avoid another such outcry. The table on the balcony provided a good view of the club and its exits and he couldn't help but smile as he saw its occupants. Eroica was as flamboyant as ever. A rose red silk poet shirt topping black leather pants combined with the cascade of blond curls were apparently as appealing a combination as ever. He could see various patrons eye the thief, some more discreetly than others, and smirked, knowing that Dorian wouldn't even give them the time of day. Appearances to the contrary, the thief was not a fickle man.
It was Dorian's companion however that drew the assassin's eyes, practically invisible next to such extravagance, which was no doubt the intent. Methos had bowed to the occasion and the company and anywhere but next to Dorian he would have garnered more than his fair share of attention. Soft, black leather pants and a deep green conventional silk shirt with what looked like a matching emerald earring. Krycek slid onto the bench seat next to his lover, noting the vodka already awaiting him.
"Adam," he murmured and the name was enough to prompt a smile of pure welcome, quickly followed by a long, involved kiss. Alex settled more easily on his seat, liking the way Methos shifted subtly closer until they were touching from knees to shoulders.
Dorian sighed heartrendingly, "It's a pity you're both so paranoid, you could make a killing in the home movie market."
Methos snorted, "Advertising isn't really in our best interests, Dorian, you know that."
"Besides," Alex added with a grin, "We prefer to make our killings elsewhere." Dorian made a little moue of distaste and Alex received a hand on his thigh by way of reward. He slid a little lower in his seat and encouragingly spread his legs a little, the hand obligingly crept upwards.
"So how was the dear Major, Alex?" Dorian enquired, changing the topic, although from the amused glitter in his eyes he knew exactly where Methos' hand had gone.
Alex shrugged, "Abrupt, challenging, competent and impatient."
Dorian sighed wistfully, "A good mood then."
Methos raised an eyebrow at Alex while Dorian was distracted and Alex let Methos read the truth in his eyes. The hand on his thigh squeezed reassuringly and Alex took a drink of his vodka to hide his smile of relief. He'd known going in what the job might involve, both jobs, the one for NATO and the more personal one for the Earl of Gloria. Just as he knew what activities Methos and Dorian's investigations had almost certainly entailed. It meant nothing.
Dorian shook himself from his brief reverie and focused again on the two sharing his table. "How did it go?" and they all knew he didn't mean the NATO mission.
Alex took a moment to compose his reply, then shrugged, "It went well; I think it clarified a few things for him. Of course, you'll know for sure next time you meet - if you're a little more circumspect it might help too."
Dorian nodded absently, obviously already planning ahead to his next encounter with the 'dear' Major. Abruptly returning to himself he nodded to the Immortal, "Adam knows everything we found out, I'm sure you know how to get information out of him." There was a certain element of amused frustration in his tone and Methos grinned impudently.
"Of course he does, darling," Methos' replied, giving Dorian's mannerisms his own spin, "he asks."
Alex winced and pointedly removed Methos' hand from his thigh. Methos pouted and Alex shook his head and stood, "I think it may be time to leave, before you corrupt my lover any further."
Dorian grinned, "Not possible, I assure you, but by all means take him home and take him in hand."
Methos stood, "How can you possibly refuse an offer like that Alex darling? Take me home!" Rolling his eyes Alex took Methos' hand and towed him from the club.
The night air was crisp after the heated atmosphere of the club and Alex led Methos by the hand until they reached the corner and turned. Their hands separated and Methos straightened, affectation falling away. Alex smiled to himself at the change and the odd comfort it gave him. The Immortal wore no coat tonight, carried no sword, but Alex knew better than to confuse it with carelessness or vulnerability. Alex's company was a further degree of protection, unnecessary as it probably was - not that he'd ever thought himself the protective type, but in Methos' case it was true.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, leaving the nightclub district far behind, before Methos spoke. "The British branch of the Consortium is definitely worth investing in. I have a feeling they'll go with the winner, you just have to persuade them it's you. They haven't got the personal investment the Americans have - they're much more open to practicalities and possibilities. There are a few with definite ties to the Russian Syndicate as well, so you've got another approach if you need it. They've got good intel that I'm pretty sure they're not sharing - you'd know better than me. All the details are at home; I've got names, faces and some financial information you might find useful, plus a few more personal details on your most likely backers."
Alex nodded, this was exactly the information he'd needed, but hadn't been able to access without compromising himself. Methos' experience and aptitude allied with the Earl of Gloria's access to the upper echelons had yielded the hoped for results. If being dragged around some of the less advertised upper class parties as Lord Gloria's latest toyboy was what it required then Methos was more than capable of playing the role. Good information was all too often the difference between life and death, Methos practically lived by that fundamental truth and Alex himself understood its value very well. The true value of Methos' research would only be revealed by time, but he knew the Immortal well enough to know that whatever he had found out would be both sword and shield to Alex in the shadowy realms of global conspiracy. It was sometimes a little strange to have someone who would go to these lengths for him, who would, of their own volition, actively look for ways to aid him and expect nothing in return except that Alex take care of himself. Methos' loyalty had been unlooked-for, but it was unquestionable and Alex planned on thanking the Immortal for that and everything else as soon as they got back to the apartment.
Finis.