Awake Alex Krycek was on what could optimistically be called vacation, but
having never been an optimist in his entire life, he preferred to think
of it as a timeout. The truth of the matter was that things in his
line of work were fairly quiet at the moment, and he could finally afford
to stop and take a deep breath. As depressingly new age as it sounded,
he realized that he now had the chance to reconnect with himself.
Something that would never even occur to him in his normal life, running
around trying to save his ass and the rest of mankind if possible—not
that mankind had ever done that much for him. There was still a
tiny spark of nobility somewhere deep inside him that—no matter how hard
he stomped on it—never quite went out.
He hated it. But who said that a person had to like everything
about himself?
So what did a man with plenty of free time on his hands do with his
evening? A cold cloudy evening in Chicago where he knew no one but
a couple of occasionally useful conspiracy buffs who never left their respective
houses? What else? He went out for a drink.
Since he had plenty of money and wasn't on the run from anyone in particular,
Alex went to one of the more exclusive clubs in town. He took
one look at the line of people waiting outside, shook his head, and walked
right up to the doorman. Clad neck to toe in black leather, Alex
knew he looked good enough to get in anywhere, and he was right.
Slipping a bill into the man's hand, he walked right in without another
glance at the poor suckers freezing their asses off. Trusting the
weapons on his person to be sufficient if the need arose, he checked his
coat and went to the bar.
With his first sip of vodka, he became aware of someone watching him.
A regular person would openly look around until they noticed someone staring,
but Alex pinpointed his watcher in mere seconds without ever giving away
the fact that he was looking. Ten feet down the bar to Alex's left,
a young man sipped an amber colored liquor and watched Alex from the corner
of his eye. Other people looked at Alex too, but that was with the
attention he was used to and could ignore.
Instinct told him that the young man staring at him through a fringe
of longish black hair had something different in mind than the usual.
Before Alex could decide whether he wanted to find out what the man wanted
or to let it go, he was surprised to find himself draining his glass and
moving closer. The young man lounged against the bar and watched
Alex come to him with a small, satisfied smile.
Alex stopped a few feet away to catalogue a few quick impressions.
The man, dressed in blue jeans and a Black Sabbath T-shirt, looked younger
than Alex by at least a decade, shorter by four or five inches, and whipcord
lean. Almost hidden by his hair, pale green eyes watched intensely
and Alex somehow knew that the man would be capable of reproducing a detailed
sketch of Alex if asked. That very nearly scared Alex for a moment
before he got a grip and reassured himself he could snap this guy's neck
easily enough. And no one found Alex's bodies unless he wanted them
to be found.
For a long moment, they each waited for the other to close the distance
between them. With a wide grin, the young man finally straightened
from his relaxed pose and walked up to Alex, speaking in a low, continentally-accented
voice that Alex seemed to hear under the loud music. "My name is
Trevor, and you will dance with me...Alex."
And Alex did, silently puzzling over how the guy knew his name and why
it didn't make him feel more paranoid.
Moving sinuously to the music, Trevor ran his hand across Alex's chest,
going straight to the straps that held his prosthetic arm on. Ordinarily,
Alex would jerk away and make a suitably cutting remark about minding one's
own business, but this time he allowed the exploration. He was surprised
to find it oddly erotic, the way Trevor's fingertips rubbed the soft wool
of his shirt into the skin alongside the straps. And when he suddenly
dug his nails in, the slight pain blossomed sweetly, hardening Alex's cock
as surely as the body writhing against him did.
"Yes." Trevor spoke into Alex's ear, low and insistent, then nipped
at his neck, sharply but not quite enough. "It's time to go, my pet."
Something about that brief combination of voice, teeth, and proprietary
assumption...and something clicked and Alex knew. He'd heard enough
stories in his travels to make Mulder turn green with envy if Alex ever
chose to enlighten him about the non-alien, but not-quite-human creatures
that roamed the night. He wondered briefly what such information
would be worth to Mulder. The possibilities made him salivate, so
naturally he was eager to add to his store of knowledge.
Moments later, Alex was out in the cold, pulling his black leather duster
on and following Trevor down the street and around the side of another
building. His deeply ingrained desire to survive at all costs conflicted
with his burning need to get a taste of what Trevor was offering, but the
sudden realization of how he could turn this to his advantage made Alex
relax and go with it. The strength and power that lay almost within
his grasp was intoxicating. He would get it...eventually.
Since Trevor had put on a long black coat of his own, he was almost
invisible in the deep shadows beside the building until a snow white hand
reached out to Alex, and Trevor lifted his head. His pale eyes almost
glowed with an inner light, as cold thin fingers cupped Alex's face.
Trevor looked deep into Alex's eyes for a long moment, moving back and
forth as if reading a book, and then pushed him against the wall.
Alex could feel the rough bricks catching at his hair and scratching
at the back of his head, but he didn't try to fight back—he could have,
of course, but he didn't. And he didn't fight back when Trevor crushed
his body against his, grinding his hips hard into Alex's to the perfect
point of pain—just the right amount of aching pressure that made him whimper
slightly before biting his lip to stop the betraying sound.
Trevor flicked his tongue across Alex's lips. "You know what I
am."
It wasn't a question, but Alex nodded slightly anyway.
"And you're not frightened."
A quick headshake and an arch of his hips answered that non-question
well enough.
Trevor smiled, a flash of white in the darkness that made the air temperature
drop ten degrees and Alex's body temperature shoot higher than ever.
He said slowly, "Yes, I chose very well. Let's go see what trouble
we can find. Since I'm here, I should check up on some previous...projects.
See how they've fared on their own."
He stepped back and ran his fingers down the side of Alex's neck, sending
flashes of heat through his gut to settle in an expanding pool in his groin.
Trevor smiled jauntily as if he knew and reveled in every single reaction,
and said, "Come, my pet. I'll show you a good time... of one kind
or another." Then he turned and walked away, deeper into the darkness.
Alex suppressed a shudder and followed, wondering if his fucking would
be figurative or only literal. Some twisted part of him hoped for
both...just for the comfort and familiarity.
Permanent Midnight V
by Amy B
And this one's for the silence
And the questions that it brings
And the smell of time and the reverence
And the possibilities....
—When Something Stands For Nothing, Headstones
