Let it rain Let rain on me Let it rain, oh let it rain Let it rain on me.
I have been a witness to the perfect crime I wipe the grin off of my face to
Let it rain Let rain on me Let it rain, oh let it rain Let it rain on me.
It isn't easy to be kind With all these demons in my mind I only hope one day
Let it rain Let rain on me Let it rain, oh let it rain Let it rain on me Come
I have given, I have given And got none Still I'm driven by something I can't
explain It's not a cross, it is a choice, I cannot help but hear his voice I only
wish that I could listen without shame
Actually that was putting it mildly. Mulder wanted to see him dead and buried,
preferably in an unmarked grave by a ditch somewhere. Which was why he'd
avoided said Agent Mulder with a passion for the past year. It was also why
Alex was here, on the other side of the country in Washington state,
standing on the deck of a secluded beach house on Bainbridge Island, miles
from anywhere, trying to let the summer rain wash his sins away. He had
rented the house, which was surrounded by primeval forest except for a
small road to the main road and an uninhibited view of the Puget Sound, six
months ago, but he'd had loose ends to tie up. He was out of the Consortium.
For good. A free agent once more, with enough money in his various bank
accounts to make Trump look like a poorer relation. The beach house was
secluded and private. No one would care that Alex prowled around the place
at all hours of the day or night naked when the mood struck. He could crank
the CD player as he stood out on the deck if he wanted, letting the music
blast through and not disturb a soul. In fact that's what he was doing now,
standing in the rain and mist, wearing nothing but a white tee-shirt and a pair
of white spandex work out shorts, listening to Amanda Marshall croon out a
song that resonated in what was left of his soul. Alex watched orca whales
dive and twist in a breathtaking dance as he tried to reclaim that tiny little
spark of humanity he had left, tried to find his soul.
Let it rain Let rain on me
He was drenched to the skin, the tee shirt diaphanous, the workout shorts
not even there since they were completely molded to his torso. His fine, dark
hair was plastered to his skull and the rain just kept coming. He didn't even
notice the fine shivers that wracked him as his body temperature dropped
rapidly, or the hot, salty tears that intermingled with the cool summer rain.
But from where he stood in the shadows of the forest, Fox Mulder did.
I have been a witness to the perfect crime
Mulder couldn't believe he was here, watching his nemesis, his dark self, his... heart's desire standing in the rain, wearing next to nothing and not caring.
Mulder idly wondered if rain was the only thing wetting those perfectly
sculpted cheeks as he watched the younger man shiver as his body became
wetter and wetter. He looked gorgeous, glorious, a fallen angel, an invitation
to sin in a clinging, translucent white tee-shirt that clung to every firm, hard
curve and muscle of Krycek's perfectly honed body. And god what a body,
Fox thought as he felt the tell-tail sign of immediate and uncontrollable
arousal.
The years as a killer for hire had stripped away all the babyish features,
leaving a toned, sculpted living work of art. Washboard abs visible through
the clinging wet fabric, well defined pectorals, biceps and triceps. His legs
were lean and muscular—runner's or kickboxer's legs, not muscled but
powerful and deadly. Just like Alex Krycek. Except for all the innate and
predatory sexuality the man oozed, he looked very much like a lost soul, a
waif who had no where to escape from the rain despite the open door behind
him.
Didn't the rat bast... didn't Alex have a shred of self-preservation? What
had happened to the tough as nails, I don't give a damn about anyone but
myself assassin he'd last seen over a year ago? The traitor that had kissed
him and walked away. The son of a bitch that had taken Mulder's heart with
him. The man that Mulder now watched was a shadow of his former self—
defeated, dejected and surrendering to fate.
It had taken Fox a year, a fucking year to track Alex down. It wasn't until
he'd brought the Gunmen in that he'd had any luck and even then it had been
a long and grueling process. Now here he was on the opposite side of the
country to Washington, D.C., staring at one Mikal Alexandrov, better known
as Aleksandr (Alexi) Mikhailovitch Krycek. And now that he had found Alex he
wasn't going to let him go—X-files, Scully, Skinner and the world be damned.
Fox Mulder was going to do the unthinkable, he was going to do something
that made him happy. He was going to tell Alex he loved him, and stop at
nothing to have that love returned.
Making his way through the woods surrounding the beach house, Mulder used
his lock pick to gain access to the back door. Quietly removing his dark brown
rain slicker, Mulder hung it in the mudroom and slipped off his soaking hiking
boots. Padding almost silently into the kitchen, he boiled water and made tea
for when he coaxed Alex back inside. Leaving his gun on the dining room table
in plain sight, he moved through the living room to the open balcony doors,
listening to the soulful melody that covered the slight sounds he made.
Let it rain
"Oh Alex," he whispered softly, his heart breaking for the younger man. Is
this how Alex really felt? Standing in the doorway so as not to be on the
receiving end of Alex's deadly reflexes, Mulder cleared his throat softly.
"Alex."
Krycek whirled around, his whole body taut, then, seeing who was standing
there, breathed a shaky sigh of relief. "Well since I'm not bleeding already I
guess you haven't come to kill me," he managed to laugh bitterly.
"No Alex, I didn't come to kill you. I came to find out why you left me," the
agent replied softly, causing the younger man's eyes to widen in shock.
Walking out onto the deck, Fox didn't stop until he was well within Alex's
personal space, so close they were practically chest to chest. "Why did you
leave me alone for a whole year, Alex? And while we're at it, why did you have
to steal my heart too?" Fox asked the younger man tenderly, tracing a finger
around those irresistible lips.
"Okay, who are you and how did they manage to clone Mulder?" Krycek
rejoined, jerking his head away and drawing a shaky breath, his eyes
narrowing suspiciously. This looked like Mulder, sounded like Mulder, god in
heaven smelled like Mulder. But there was no way in any hell that Fox William
Mulder would ever say anything nice to him, let alone all but admit he'd fallen
in love with a rat bastard like Alex Krycek.
"I'm not a clone, Alex. Come inside and I'll let you look at my scars, will even
cut myself if you like, just so you can see me bleed red," Fox said softly.
"Come inside Alex, I've made tea. I'm unarmed, my gun is on your dining room
table, you're soaked to the bone and shivering. You'll catch pneumonia if you
keep this up."
"Like you'd give a damn about a rat bastard like me."
"That's no way to talk about the man I love Alexi Krycek, and I'll thank you to
remember that," Fox growled brusquely, even as his heart winced in shame.
He should have known. Words could be the worst form of weapons. How he
could have so hatefully, spitefully lashed out at this other half of his soul, he
couldn't understand. And when he hadn't been hurling abuse, he'd been
swinging his fists, or threatening to kill. Mulder had never been so ashamed
of himself in his life. How could he have damaged his Alexi so? He knew
logically that it was simply sublimation—the transference of his true wants
and feelings into something more controllable, like hate and rage. To admit
that he _loved_ his enemy was unthinkable. Until he'd grown tired of fighting
himself and his heart. Until he'd finally accepted what he truly wanted from
the younger man—a lifetime.
"Please Alex, come inside," the older man begged softly.
"Love? Mulder did you just say you love me?" Alex Krycek was not a religious
man by any stretch of the imagination but upon hearing those desperately
desired words he prayed to every god in the universe that if this was a
dream he'd never wake up. "You love me?" he choked out once more.
Then the absurdity of the situation hit him and he started to laugh until
tears ran unchecked down his face, until his sides hurt and Mulder was
looking at him as if he was insane. "Now I know you aren't Mulder—he hates
my guts with a passion. Wants me dead and forgotten. Go back to that
smoking bastard and tell him no dice. I'm out of the Consortium for good. Not
even the illusion of Fox Mulder loving me is gonna make me sell what's left of
my soul again. I'm a free agent."
Spinning away from the federal agent he clutched his arms tightly around his
waist, trying to fight the hurt that those few brief moments of shining hope
had left him with. "Fox Mulder would never love someone like me," he
whispered harshly to himself. "He'd never lower himself to love a guy whose
moral dipstick is two drops short of bone dry—ever."
Strong, slender fingers were gripping his shoulders and whirling him around in
the blink of an eye. He was forced backwards and into the side of the house.
"Listen to me Alexi Krycek and listen well," Fox ground out, shaking the
younger man with each grated out word.
"You slinked into my life, you rat bastard, and showed me a tarnished angel
that could make a saint sin. You betrayed me, hurt me, helped me, protected
me, tormented me and kissed me. News flash. I am the same arrogant
asshole that wanted you dead. Now all I want to do is love you. Deal with it.
It's not gonna change and it's not going away. I. Love. Alex. Krycek. Got it?"
Mulder ranted, even as he pulled the younger man tightly into his body. When
he finished he moved his hands up to keep the younger man's face immobile,
then proceeded to kiss his ex-partner with every ounce of passion he had in
him. "I love you Alex."
The former triple agent assassin looked up at the snapping golden eyes and
the rain dark hair, the man that he had loved so passionately, so secretly for
so long, and his face crumpled. Tears came hot and heavy, rolling down his
cheeks in fat drops. His breath hitched and the sobs shook his already
shivering frame with something akin to violence.
Cursing softly, Fox led the younger man inside and wrapped him in the throw
blanket from the sofa. Bypassing the kitchen and the tea he herded Alex
towards what he hoped was the bedroom—and fuck what a bedroom it was!
French doors out to another balcony, skylight above the bed, huge, huge king
sized sleigh bed overflowing with pillows. The furniture was Scandinavian, the
crystal was Irish, and the scent was all Alex, a heady aroma of leather and
masculinity.
Promising himself he'd explore this room more thoroughly later, Fox
continued to push Alex through to the next marvel of the house, the
bathroom. Plants everywhere, turning the room into a verdant jungle, with
your choice of shower stall or a Jacuzzi bath big enough for 4 grown men to
fit comfortably. Another promise made, this one to make love to Alex in that
bathtub surrounded by candles.
Opening the shower door, Fox turned on the shower and let steam fill the air
as he lovingly stripped first Alex, who seemed almost catatonic, then himself, pushing them under the hot spray in order to get his lover warm. "Shh,
baby," the F.B.I agent crooned, holding Alex tightly to him, letting years,
decades of sorrow pour from the younger man and all the while holding him.
"I'm right here Alexi. You're stuck with me. No more running for either of us
baby. I love you Alex, I love you."
Fox gently washed Alex, using the woodsy soap and his hands, touching and
petting his lover everywhere, spending an inordinate amount of time on the
puckered scar on his left arm from Tunguska. It was livid and obviously very
deep. How he got away, got help, was a miracle. It had been close, that much
Fox could tell. The tensing of Alex's body also showed how much this still
bothered him so Fox did the only thing he could, he bent and kissed the ridged
flesh very carefully. "You're more beautiful to me now than you were five
years ago love. I swear it."
Mulder washed himself quickly, wanting to waste no time comforting the
younger man. Wrapping Alex in a big fluffy towel, he led him back to the
bedroom and after drying him of briskly, helped him under the duvet and
joined him there after closing the curtains and making sure the house was
locked up tight.
Pulling Alexi into the circle of his arms, Fox Mulder came home after a very
long journey. And it felt so right. Breathing in his lover's scent, Mulder let
himself drift away.
It isn't easy to be kind
The sudden crash of lightening woke Mulder from a deep sleep. His arms
instinctively reached for his companion of just a few hours, missing what had
already become as intrinsic to him as breathing. And found nothing.
Grumbling he finally managed to open his eyes to the twilight gilded room and
saw Alex sitting on a nearby chair watching him from the shadows as
lightening crashed, rain pelted and thunder roared outside. Alex's right hand
wrapped protectively around his scar tissue, another blanket wrapped around
him, as still and unmoving as a statue.
"Come back to bed Alex," the older man husked, sleep giving his voice the
texture of aged whiskey.
Hesitantly Alex got up and padded over to the bed so that he was standing
next to Mulder, looking down. "Why are you really here Mulder?" the former
assassin for hire asked wearily. Waking up next to this man had been his
fondest dream, but dreams were not for men like him—men without a
conscience, with hardly a scrap of a soul left.
"I'm here to find the man I love and to convince him that I mean it. Alex I,"
Fox took a deep breath and plunged in. "I don't care about the past—I mean I
care but... hell Alex my father was a bastard and probably got exactly what
he deserved, and I probably would have pulled the trigger eventually myself—
the man was evil. I know you didn't pull the trigger on Melissa, and Scully—I've
got her back and that's all that counts. The past is over and dead and buried.
It's forgotten. I love you Alex—everything else is secondary. Please believe
that," Mulder begged softly. "I just hope you can forgive me love."
Forest green eyes widened in slight shock, both at the declaration of trust
and the request for forgiveness. Still unwilling to take a chance, Alex hung
back from the bed just out of arms reach. Very much like an abused and
frightened animal, wanting love but not ready to trust. "For—forgive you for
what Mulder?"
"Fox," the older man replied automatically. "Please Alex, I want, no need, for
you to call me that," the FBI agent begged softly. "And I need you to forgive
me for leaving you in... Tunguska. If I'd known baby—or if I'd been... god
it's no excuse. You should have hated me and yet you helped me. Baby, I...
you humble me," Fox trailed off softly.
"Wasn't your fault—managed to get out of there with my arm intact at
least, just got another scar is all," Alex replied softly, taking a hesitant step
closer to the bed. "You really love me? This isn't... you're not playing me
here are you Mulder coz if you are," Alex's eyes closed, then opened, blazing.
"If you are I'll never forgive or forget. Don't make me hate you, please," the
younger man begged softly.
"Alex..." Fox was up out of bed and pulling the younger man against him
before he'd finished speaking. "Never—I swear it," he replied vehemently,
looking down into wide, not quite trusting green eyes. Slowly drawing the
younger man back towards the bed, Mulder tried once more. "Let me love you
Alex, let me show you..."
"Yes," the younger man whispered, so softly it could barely be heard over the
pelting rain and rolling thunder.
"Alex."
Let it rain
When Alex decided to give up control he didn't do it half-heartedly, in the
instant he uttered that one syllable word, he surrendered everything he was
to Fox William Mulder—every scrap of soul and heart he had left, as well as
any need for control. Fox could do whatever he wanted to the younger man—
and Alex trusted him completely.
Laying his lover on the bed, Fox gently pulled the blanket away from him.
"You're magnificent," he breathed softly, the flashes of lightening illuminating
the pale golden flesh, making Alex look fey and almost ethereal. His body,
however, belied that perception. Hard angles and planes connected by sinew
and muscle without a spare ounce of fat. Alex was a sculpture brought to
life; a work of art. And he was Mulder's.
Then Alex raised his lashes and lightening paled in comparison to the hot,
primal energy that burned like a wild thing in those forested depths. "Fox,"
the younger man whispered, every ounce of longing and all the years of pent
up need and love echoing in that one word.
Hardly aware of his actions, Mulder knelt on the bed next to Alex's supine
form, his hand trembling as he reached out to trace the exotic features that
made up Alex's face. Every inch of his lover's face was traced, from
forehead and elegant eyebrows to the impudent nose and high cheekbones, to
long, silky lashes, lush lips and a stubborn chin that some would call arrogant
but Fox called perfect. Next his fingers feathered down the long column of
the younger man's throat after tracing perfect, shell-like ears, in order to
explore a little further.
Soon fingers were not enough and Mulder expanded the scope of his tactile
meanderings by employing his lips to trace the very path his fingers had,
learning how silky Alex's skin felt to his lips and the dark, earth and
dangerous flavor that was Alex Krycek. The soft, breathy sighs of pleasure
issuing from Alex's lips were all the encouragement he needed.
Trailing his tongue down the elegant column of neck then over a deceptively
fragile collarbone, Fox began to explore the smooth expanse of chest laid out
like a feast before him. At last covering a bronze disc of flesh he nibbled on
the delicately aroused flesh, causing a sharp moan and felt long, agile fingers
card through his hair to hold him in place. He chuckled softly, buzzing the
flesh around his mouth and prompting a shiver underneath him. "Like that do
you?" he husked as he moved to attack the other aroused nipple.
"Mulder, please—stop teasing," Alex begged quietly trying to get closer to
the talented lips and tongue that were dancing over his skin. He'd never
known so much pleasure. He was on fire, writhing, his whole being centered
on his pleasure receptors, each nerve tingling and alive. Alex's hands trailed
up Mulder's back, almost involuntarily, and carded through the lush golden
brown density.
He was afraid. Something he'd admit only in the silence of his mind. He loved
this man. Not the hearts, flowers and sap kind of commercial love that
prompted people to marry and then divorce 2.5 years later when the illusion
wore out. No—the love he felt for this man was imbedded in the marrow of
his bones, carved on his soul, burned into his heart.
And that scared Alex more than invasion, colonization or having an Oilian
crawling around inside of him, because that meant Alex had a weakness—one
that could destroy him. Yet here he was, naked on a bed with his ultimate
weakness, letting Mulder make slow, glorious love to him. And he couldn't
regret a single moment, even if it were to all come crashing down around him
tomorrow.
"I love you Fox," he husked suddenly, giving up his last, most desperately
guarded secret to the man who owned him body and soul.
"Baby," there was a sheen in Fox's eyes as he surged upwards, gently
ravishing the mouth that had set him free. "Oh god, I love you too," Fox
whispered, his voice full of emotion. "You... complete me Alex. You make me
whole—give me my center. You've been my lodestar for years now, guiding
me from the shadows to the places I've needed to be... the one place I
needed to be most of all—home to you."
"Please," came the whispered request, a single word full of desire and want
and the need for completion. It was enough, more than enough.
Reaching over to the nightstand and the bottle of lotion that was sitting
there, Fox smiled down at his lover gently, even as he coated his fingers
thoroughly. No more games, but Fox was going to make sure Alex was ready—
more than ready for him.
Alex's eyes watched his lover's every movement, and darkened to almost
black as he watched Fox carefully prepare himself. Then the lush sable lashes
veiled those electric eyes as he felt a single digit tease, then breach his
passage, easing it's way inward slowly. Preparing the way for something
much larger and hotter—and much more desired.
Slowly Fox rotated the finger, sending tendrils of heat singing through Alex's
veins, and when he felt that Alex was loose enough the finger slipped out and
two returned. The whole process was repeated with the new addition of
those tormenting fingers caressing the former assassin's prostate, causing
him to buck and wail in need. Once more Fox judged him loose enough and
three fingers slipped inside.
"No—no more! Need you Fox. Please baby, please be in me!" Alex cried
desperately, thrusting himself hard against the marauding fingers in the
hopes of feeling something beyond the slow, insidious heat that was making
him crazed.
"No more waiting baby," Fox promised as he quickly slicked the lotion on his
own weeping erection and, placing it's tip against the tiny portal to his lover's
body, slid home with a sigh.
"Fox!" Alex cried softly, clutching at the older man and helping to drive him
home with powerful hips and arms, until Mulder was buried deep, thoroughly
encased in his lover's tight heat.
Golden brown eyes met with jade green and the world faded until there was
just the two of them—joined. Soon it was no longer enough, soon they both
needed more. Hips began to move slowly, rocking gently into one another, the
tip of Mulder's phallus teasing Alex's prostate eliciting tiny whimpers of need.
Then the inferno came, and bodies began to crash into one another—primal
heat causing a conflagration of heart, soul and body. Alex surged upwards,
impaling himself on the thick spike of Fox's erection even as Mulder ground
downwards, driving himself into the tight, warm heat of Alex's body.
Sweat glistened and poured of two bodies in their prime, caught up in the
animal passions that raged through them. Hands moved in less then gentle
abandon, leaving barely felt bruises that would make themselves known come
the morning. Every inch of accessible skin was tasted and tormented. Nipples
were tweaked and played with, a hard cock milked in time to a lover's
thrusts, fingers were sucked into the heated cauldron of a mouth then
gently inserted into a vacant passage, eliciting almost painful yelps of
pleasure which caused the whole process to escalate.
Soon both men were mindlessly reaching for their orgasm, civilization shorn
away in their need for each other. Years down the road, neither could ever
agree on what set them off, on who found their release first, so closely
intertwined was their pleasure. All either of them could remember was the
white hot haze which engulfed them as they felt their partner's seed fill
them or coat their stomach, all they could remember was the moment when
their souls were laid bare and each other's names were engraved on their
hearts.
But as all such moments, this one faded and Fox, exhausted beyond belief,
collapsed onto Alex, tears glistening in his eyes as he stared up into the jade
orbs of his lover, his love. "I don't care what it takes, Alex. I'm not going to
give you up again. No more tilting at windmills without you love. You are the
home I need to come back to when the world turns ugly. Be with me Alex?"
Fox asked softly, not daring to breathe as he waited for the younger man's
answer.
"For as long as you want me Fox."
"Forever, then," Fox replied, a smile of relief painting his usually somber
features. It was going to be all right. Fox was finally going to get his life
back. Was finally going to begin living.
"Forever, Fox," Alex replied, a tentative smile, breathtaking in it's shy
simplicity, lighting the younger man's face, and letting Fox see the man he
knew existed within the icy shell that Alex wore.
Come take my hand
Feedback: Would be much appreciated—I need the confidence booster!
angel@cimtegration.com
Let it Rain
by Angel
I have given, I have given And got none Still I'm driven by something I can't
explain It's not a cross, it is a choice, I cannot help but hear his voice I only
wish that I could listen without shame
hide the blame It isn't worth the tears you cry to have a perfect alibi Now I'm
beaten at the hands of my own game
I'll be free I do my best not to complain My face is dirty from the strain I only
hope one day I'll come clean
take my hand We can walk to the light And without fear We can see through
the darkest night. Let it rain Let it rain Let it rain on me.
—Amanda Marshall, Let it Rain
Alex Krycek looked like a drowned rat. Fitting since that was what he was. A
rat, well a rat bastard to be precise. Maybe that's why he was standing
outside in the rain, maybe he was trying to wash himself clean. Wash away
the years of blood and tears and betrayal. Years of lies and murders and
blind ambition. After all what did he have to show for it? Nothing, not a
fucking thing. The one person he'd done it all for hated his guts.
Let it rain, oh let it rain
Let it rain on me.
I wipe the grin off of my face to hide the blame
It isn't worth the tears you cry to have a perfect alibi
Now I'm beaten at the hands of my own game
Let rain on me
Let it rain, oh let it rain
Let it rain on me.
With all these demons in my mind
I only hope one day I'll be free
I do my best not to complain
My face is dirty from the strain I only hope one day I'll come clean
Let rain on me
Let it rain, oh let it rain
Let it rain on me
Cuddling together, the two men began to plan their lives together, in sleepy
voices. And as the conversation finally died away and Fox and Alex's
breathing evened out. As they slipped into slumber at last the rain eased
from torrential to a gentle patter on the roof, the storm finally having
exhausted itself. Eventually it stopped all together, just in time for the sun
to rise, and with it a new beginning for two lovers too long apart.
We can walk to the light
And without fear
We can see through the darkest night.
Let it rain Let it rain Let it rain on me.
