Soul Doesn't mean shit to me right now, anyway. My mind is otherwise occupied. I'm
thinking about getting home and wondering if I'll find him there waiting for me.
I've been away for three days. He's been gone over two weeks, but he called me
two days ago and said he was going to try to make it back before I did. I haven't
heard from him since. He didn't say he'd call when he got there, so I guess I
can't really expect that he would. I'm hoping, though, that he made it.
We've been sleeping together for over seven months now, and while we started out
spending maybe two nights a week together, it wasn't long before those two nights
turned into three and four, and now we're together as often as our schedules
allow.
He tries very hard to be there when I come back from an out of state case. At
first, I'd come in and find him naked and ready in my bed, we'd roll around
together for a couple of hours, then order out for some food. Now, it's usually a
hot, home cooked meal that's waiting for me. And I get hot Alex for dessert.
I'm liking this. Not only do I get to knock boots with the most amazingly sexy
man I'll ever know, but I get good food...and intelligent conversation... and
laughs. Yes, Alex Krycek has a sense of humor. And he's relaxed enough with me to
let me see it.
I used to be more or less a solitary man, enjoying what little time I had to
myself, by myself, but Alex changed that. I hate it when I'm home and he's
away. Coming back to an empty apartment at the end of the day isn't what I want
anymore. I need the comfort of knowing he's there. I want him near me as much as
I can have him, and I think he feels the same, or else why would he still be
with me?
I didn't think I was going to make it.
My flight got delayed, and I only just made it in. He should be here in about an
hour, so I guess there's no time to really cook anything. Sorry, handsome, I
guess it's take out today.
That's all right. Leaves us more time for other things.
It's been almost three weeks since I've seen him, and I'd be willing to bet that
he's as ready as I am for a nice, long fuck. We've been together almost eight
months, and I can definitely say that I'm no less enthusiastic about sex with him
than I was that first night. If anything, my desire for him has only grown. I
can't seem to get enough. The more of him I have, the more I want. When we're
away from each other, the emptiness I feel is astounding. I never knew how much
of a void there was in my life until he filled it.
And now, here I am. Practically a permanent fixture in his apartment and his
life, and I've never been happier or more content.
Scares the hell out of me sometimes.
I've never thought of myself as one who was put here to be happy. I've always
seen myself as a laborer...a drone born and bred to do the work that no one else
wants to do...the dirty stuff that gets whispered about in dark, quiet corners. I
never thought I was meant to have a life...and now that I've dared to start
thinking about one, I'm afraid sometimes that someone will reach down and rip it
away from me.
You're out of line, Alex. That life belonged to a decent, deserving member of
polite society. You stole it. Now give it back and go steal us some national
secrets or something...
I don't want to give it back. It's mine. He's mine. I keep him happy. I must,
or he wouldn't smile the way he does when he sees me. He wouldn't still want me
in his bed after all this time, and what's more, he wouldn't want me to stay.
And I will stay until he decides that it's time for me to go.
I think about that sometimes. I wonder what I'd do if one day he woke up, looked
at me, and said that he didn't want me anymore. The pain that runs through me at
those times is so intense I can't stand it. I try so hard to mask it, but
sometimes he notices and asks me what's wrong. I always tell him that I'm fine,
but he knows that something's up. He doesn't push, but he's worried. I can see it
all over his face, just like he can see all over mine that I'm hurting.
I can't tell him how afraid I am. How would I explain it to him when I don't
really understand it myself? There are so few things that actually scare me, but
losing him is at the top of that extremely short list.
I didn't know it would be like this. I had no idea. I know I wanted him. I know
I'd have done anything to have him, and I'll damn sure do anything to keep him,
but why? All because he's a hell of a good lay? No. He's a fantastic lay, but
that's not why I'd kill or die for him. There are things...feelings that I have,
and I don't know what to do with them. I look at him sometimes, and I...this
incredible warmth just floods my insides. We lie together at night, clinging to
each other, exhausted and satisfied, and so much emotion bubbles up inside me. I
keep it to myself for the most part...that fear thing again...I'm afraid of
laying too much on him, too fast. Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm more to
him than just a playmate, but I don't know...I don't know how he'd take all the
affection I'm dying to drown him in. I guess I'll know when the time is right.
If it ever is.
Home.
Alex.
Thank you, God.
I walked in, disappointed at first because it was quiet and I didn't smell
anything cooking, so I thought he hadn't made it back after all. Then some
movement from the direction of the bedroom caught my attention. I turned around,
and he was leaning in the doorway, watching me. I walked over to him and put my
arms around him. He sort of sagged against my chest and wrapped his arms around
my neck.
I lifted his head from my shoulder so I could kiss him, and when we finally
pulled back, we were both breathing a little heavier. I held his eyes, told him
that I'd missed him, and I saw that look that I sometimes see at moments like
this. His eyes drifted away from my face, and he opened his mouth, stuttering
softly before he finally managed to tell me that he missed me too.
It's amazing how a man who can be so aggressive in so many other ways can be so
incredibly shy when it comes to saying something as simple as 'I missed you'. I
don't know what he thinks is going to happen when he says it. I can't imagine for
the life of me that he thinks I'm just saying the words without actually meaning
them. Maybe that's exactly what he thinks in that beautiful, screwed up brain of
his. Maybe there's something I haven't done...some reason he hasn't gotten the
message...
I pulled him back into my arms, and I felt his fingers tighten in the material of
my jacket. I took it a bit further, telling him that I thought about him every
minute of every day we were apart, and that I hated these long separations.
That really got him.
He never loosened his hold on me, but he lifted his head and stared at me with
such anxiety in his eyes. I asked him if he didn't believe me, and his eyes left
my face again. I could see him struggling with something, and as much as I wanted
to know what it was, I thought maybe it would be best to let him tell me about it
in his own time. Whenever that might be.
I wish he would talk to me about whatever it is that eats at him. So many times
he seems to want to, but something always stops him. I want to ask him what it is
he can't say to me, but I don't think he'll ever answer.
Sometimes I want to tie him to a chair, shine a light in his eyes, and force it
all out of him. And sometimes I want to throw him down on the bed...floor, or
whatever we happen to be closest to, and fuck it out of him. Usually, I just let
it alone. I hug him. Kiss him, and do whatever I can do to show him that I really
do care for him...
I cupped his face in the palms of my hands and lifted his head. I told him once
more that I did miss him, and then I kissed him. And I didn't stop until I felt
him relax and his tongue slide into my open mouth.
We stood locked together, kissing and caressing for what seemed like forever, and
then he started pulling my jacket off. He tossed it over the back of the nearest
chair and backed away, pulling me by my shirt, moving in the direction of the
bedroom.
He hates being away from me. That's what he said. And his words went straight to
my heart.
So soft. So genuine.
God, I wanted to respond. I wanted to tell him how much I hated it too...how much
I loved...loved to be with him. I should have, but the words just wouldn't come.
So I spoke to him in a language I knew I wouldn't screw up.
I led him into his bedroom, sat him down on the edge of the bed, and went into
the bathroom. I turned the shower on and returned, pulling my clothes off. I
watched his eyes go from hazel to deep green and his breathing deepen as I peeled
my jeans off, and my cock reached out for him.
I walked over to him and started undoing his tie, and his hands came up to my
hips, sliding down over my thighs then back up. He told me I was beautiful, and
my cock jumped. As close as it was to his face, he made no move to touch it. He
just continued to run his hands over me as I unbuttoned his shirt.
When I finally had him naked from the waist up, he stood up and let me start on
his pants. As I unbuckled his belt, he told me about how he'd lie alone on those
nights that we were apart, thinking about all things he was going to do to me
when he got me back into our bed.
Our bed.
He said our bed.
I wonder if he realizes how seriously he fucks me up when he says stuff like
that. My mind starts racing in a million different directions, every thought
anchored to the hope that I'm not reading far more into his words than I should
be.
I willed my hands to stop shaking, and I finished getting his pants undone. I
slipped my hands inside, working them past the waistband of his silk boxers, and
cupped his ass.
Tight, runner's ass. Smooth, satiny skin, stretched over rock-hard muscles. I
love to feel them working under my fingers, tightening and relaxing as he fucks
me...
I held him still while I humped him slowly, listening to his soft groans. He said
my name in that breathless, desperate way that he does when he needs me so badly
that I know I've either got to slow things way down or give him what he wants
right that minute.
Since the shower was running, and we'd both just come in off of long flights, I
opted for turning it down to a simmer. To say that he was unhappy about that was
understating the facts a bit, I think.
I slid his pants and underwear down his legs, grazing his cock with my tongue as
I went, then slipped his clothes off and led him into the bathroom, growling and
protesting all the way.
I stepped into the shower first, pulling him in after me, and he backed me into
the wall under the water, pinning my hands on either side of my head. His mouth
clamped down on mine, and he pressed into me, his body all wet and slick and hot.
I swear I could've come right there, but the thought of teasing him just a bit
more held me back.
I pushed away from the wall, breaking his grip on my wrists and spun him around
so that it was now his back against the tiles, and I went to work.
I want to know how it is a man can be so close to exploding so many times and be
pulled back just before he falls over the edge.
He drove me insane. His hands and his mouth were everywhere at once it seemed. I
thought at least half a dozen times that my knees would give out, and I'd just
sink to the floor in a puddle of hot semen.
I begged. I threatened...I made sounds I'd never heard or even realized I was
capable of before hooking up with him. He ignored them all. Sadistic bastard.
Thing is, I couldn't get mad at him. Not really. I love it when he pushes me like
that, and he knows it. He knows me. Inside and out.
Sexually, at least.
He kneeled in the tub in front of me and looked up. Drops of water clung to his
eyelashes, making them look even darker and longer than usual, and my breath
caught in my throat. I told him earlier that he was beautiful, and that was no
lie. He's gorgeous. Without a doubt, the most striking man I've ever seen.
Those eyes were the first things I saw when he walked into the bullpen that day
so many years ago. I remember looking up and having to compose myself as he
introduced himself. Even in that cheap suit and bad hair style, he was fucking
exquisite. His eyes were irresistible. They pulled me in...tempted and challenged
me, and I knew I was in trouble. I knew I wanted him. Had to have him.
And now, I do.
He's mine, this beautiful man who had sunk to his knees in front of me, using
those same magnetic eyes to seduce me as he did way back then. Only now, I
wouldn't dream of resisting them. Or him.
I let my fingers slide into his hair, gently pulling his head forward, and I
watched his eyes close as his mouth touched the head of my cock. I had to close
my eyes as his lips parted and the head disappeared into them. Watching him is
every bit as erotic as feeling him, and it was just too much for me.
I dropped my head back against the tiles and let myself feel every flutter of his
tongue...every change in pressure...every tiny little scrape of his teeth. They
vibrated through me like an electrical charge, and I started making those sounds
again. I was so close that I was sure my next breath would be the one to open up
the dam. He knew it too, I suppose, because very carefully, he pulled away,
dropping a tiny kiss at the tip. He rose slowly, licking and kissing his way up
my body. He fastened his mouth on a nipple and pulled, flicking his tongue over
the tip, and I nearly lost my mind.
He was ready to blow. I had to get him out of the shower, and I had to do it
quickly.
I let go of his nipple and gave him a soft kiss before I picked up the sponge and
started to wash him. Wasn't an easy task; he wouldn't take his hands off of me,
but finally I got the job done and quickly washed myself while his hands followed
the sponge, lingering in all his favorite places. I managed to get us both rinsed
off and semi-dry before he shoved me out of the bathroom and literally threw me
down on the bed.
My breath left my lungs in a hard rush as he tackled me. He yanked the nightstand
drawer open and pulled the lube out. I fully expected that he was going to put it
on himself, but when he wrapped his hand around my cock, it took me a bit by
surprise. He stroked the stuff on then rolled off of me and onto his back,
tucking himself between me and the mattress. His eyes were a beautiful shade of
grey as he lay there, looking up at me, and his mouth opened to speak.
"Make love to me, baby."
He kept doing this shit to me!
We've been together nearly eight months, and have never called each other by
anything other than our names. And, all of a sudden, I'm 'baby'...and he wanted
me to 'make love to him'. Jesus Christ, we've only ever fucked. I'd never made
love to anyone, and truthfully, I wasn't sure I'd know how. But he pulled me down
on top of him and kissed me so sweetly, and I just let my heart guide my body.
It was easy. So much easier than I expected, but I suppose there's not much
that's hard about making love when you're in love.
I wrapped him in my arms and laid tender kisses all over his upper body as I slid
into him, and I admitted it to myself. I actually said the words to myself.
I love him.
This is the reason for my strengthening need to take care of him...this is why I
miss him so deeply when we're apart...it's the joy I feel whenever we were
together...it's the fear I have of losing him.
Oh, my God, I love him...
His back arched, and those sinfully delicious lips parted on a loud gasp as I
filled him. His fingers clenched in my back, then his grip slackened, and his
hands began to stroke over my skin as I slowly pumped in and out of him. I
watched his head roll back and forth on the pillow, and I knew the impatience he
felt. The sensation of him so tight and slick, surrounding me...it was
devastating. I couldn't hold back. There was no way...
I felt his control slipping. His smooth thrusts had started to become just a bit
erratic, and those soft whimpering sounds he was making started getting louder.
I hugged him to me and took his hand, pushing it between us, and he automatically
wrapped his fingers around my cock. He jerked me slowly at first, then picked up
speed as he spun farther out of control. His moans became more and more
distressed, and I petted his hair, trying to comfort him as I felt myself
slipping over the edge.
I told him it was all right. I was right there with him, and everything was all
right. I begged him to let go, not that I really needed to, and he did. He sobbed
a number of barely intelligible words, shifting from English to Russian, then
back again as he came long and hard inside me. One more pull on my cock, and I
came with him, coating us both with warm semen. I assume it was me screaming
because I'd heard his own cries die away just seconds before he collapsed on top
of me and went completely still.
As I struggled to catch my breath, I brought a hand up to his head, letting my
fingers sift through his hair, and I felt him drag some air into his lungs for
the first time since we came. He tilted his head a bit then kissed the underside
of my jaw and snuggled against my chest.
I love the sounds he makes afterward. It's the closest thing to purring I've ever
heard. So content. So relaxing.
When I was finally coherent enough to string more than three words together, I
asked him what it was he was saying when he came. He lifted his head, giving me a
curious look, and I tried to recall how he said it.
L-lyublyu...
I watched a look of anxiety wash the contentment from his face, and I asked him
what was wrong. He shook his head and looked away, but I wasn't having that. I
made him look at me, and I asked again what it was he said.
The anxiety turned to something that almost resembled fear, and he said the words
again, so softly I almost didn't catch them.
Lyublyu tebya.
I thought a minute, then I looked up at him. I must have figured it out right,
because his eyes closed and he turned away when I attempted translation.
I love you.
I couldn't look at him.
I'd fucked it all up, and I just couldn't bring myself to see what was in his
eyes.
I should've lied, I could've...
No, I couldn't. I couldn't, and I never would lie to him. I'd just have to deal
with whatever consequences my stupidity brought.
I forced myself to open my eyes when he grasped my chin and turned my face up to
his. The warm amazement I found in his eyes took me so completely by surprise
that I was left speechless. And the words he spoke to me delivered such a
stunning blow that I'd become paralyzed as well.
I love you too, baby.
He stared for so long, not speaking or moving, that I'd begun to become
concerned.
I shook him gently and called his name, and that seemed to jar him a bit. He
blinked his eyes but still said nothing.
I didn't understand why it was so hard for him to believe that I loved him. When
the revelation had finally come to me only minutes ago, it was a warm flow of
emotion that just sort of made everything fall into place.
I wanted us to share this new discovery...I wanted to wallow with him in joy, but
first, I supposed, I'd have to make him believe his own ears.
I heard it again. Saw his lips moving, and the sounds coincided with the words
they were forming, but I never thought. I never dared imagine that he could
ever...
Jesus, he said it again. And then he kissed me.
He loves me. Oh, fuck, he loves me!
Hallelujah. He finally got it.
And so did I.
This was what he'd been so troubled about. Whether he realized it at the time
or not...
I laughed when he blinked down at me after I broke the kiss. It was like he'd
been sleeping all that time, and he'd only just awakened. He threw himself into
my arms and hugged me so tightly I thought he'd crush my bones to powder. He
begged me to tell him again, and I did. Over and over between tender kisses, and
this time he understood me perfectly.
I never would have dreamed it possible. Hating him always seemed like the only
thing I could do. The only thing imaginable. Loving him turned out to be so much
better.
We held each other the rest of the night, talking and kissing, and repeating over
and over the three words I'd never in my life get tired of hearing. And then we
made love once more and fell asleep sometime in the light of early morning.
It'd be crazy to think that we aren't going to be in for trouble. Nobody is
going to take this well, and I do have every intention of telling those closest
to me about us. I love him, and I will not hide him. I won't be ashamed of my
happiness, and I won't apologize for it. I've spent too many years in hell to not
want to shout my joy from the mountain tops.
Of course, Scully'll probably have two men in white coats and carrying nets
waiting for me at the foot of the mountain...
I don't care. Let her think whatever she wants. She can accept it or not. They
all can. It won't make any difference. Alex knows I'm not crazy. In so many ways
he's just like me, and he understands.
We're no longer two restless and lonely men, looking for a place to belong and
someone to belong to. He's mine, and I'm his, completely and for always.
Mind, body and soul.
Mind, Body and Soul III
by Aries
I can hear Scully's voice. Droning in my right ear while the plane's engines
drone in my left... drilling me on improper procedure, mishandling of evidence,
and a whole slew of other bullshit complaints that I'll have to hear all over
again once we hit Skinner's office. Let's just all conveniently forget about the
fact that I've just solved a case that no one else has been able to crack during
a year and a half of intensive investigation...
