It was true. Michelangelo was a fucking genius. The sheer size and scale of
David had shocked Alex, not to mention the fact that it was situated out in the
open. For some reason, he'd always imagined a more life-size scaled sculpture,
displayed inside of a museum.
But hanging around in Paris waiting for his 'contact' to contact him was getting
old—fast. He was beginning to suspect someone was playing games with him. A
wild goose chase...and he was the goose.
He wandered away from the Tower, wondering what the hell had possessed him to
accept this particular location for the rendezvous.
Alex sighed and rubbed at his left shoulder, trying to ease the ache that flared
up from the prosthetic.
Hours later, he began to muse upon what Paris DID have to offer. Red wine and
croissants, he thought. Dinner sounded good. A late meal. Might as well go for
the full French experience. One thing about France he was learning to love to
the point of indulgence was the food. The cheeses, the bread, the wines...
The hair on the back of his neck lifted and he carefully checked the shadows.
Someone was watching him. His eyes narrowed and he quickly walked away, down
the street, ducking into the nearest alley to wait for his unknown watcher to
walk by.
He knows I'm here—following him.
That only makes the chase more interesting.
I've been watching him for about three hours now—first spotted him at the
Eiffel Tower. Something about the man immediately caught my attention: a
certain aura of danger. This one is definitely not the typical tourist.
And, he's beautiful. Gods above, the man is gorgeous. And I—well, I have to
admit that a little danger only adds to the excitement of the chase. I want
him. Badly.
I'll just sit down and cry if the bastard is straight.
He's in the alley up ahead. Gonna ambush me. Oh yeah! This old man is ready
to be ambushed...tackled...threatened.
My cock twitches at the thought.
Casually, I walk towards the alley.
Sure enough, a figure appeared and paused, silhouetted against the faint light
behind him. He was tall, but his shape betrayed an ectomorphic build. With a
slight growl, Alex reached out and grabbed the man, pulling him into the alley,
spinning him around and shoving him hard against the brick wall.
With his arm up at the man's throat, pressing him into the side of the building,
Alex demanded, "Who are you? Don't you know it's dangerous to follow people?
You never know who you might be stalking."
The man's eyes were wide and dark in the dim light of the alley. He stared back
into Alex's face with all the defensive vulnerability of a lost student...
Indeed, the man looked as though he'd gotten separated from the collegiate group
who'd passed drunkenly by, not ten minutes before.
Something warned him, however, that appearances were deceiving when he looked
deeply into wide hazel eyes. No — NO ONE was this defenseless. He'd learned
to trust his instincts in such cases.
Oooh. His eyes narrow as he glares at me. I was right—dangerous...wonderfully so.
I relax into his hold and whimper with feigned fear. "I wasn't following you,
honest, mister. I'm on my way home—that's all."
"Bullshit."
Oh my. What a voice! It reverberates through me, sending a thrill deep into
the pit of my stomach.
My cock twitches again.
"I... I um—Okay—I was following you. But only because I was," here I lower
my voice, Adam Pierson, Innocent-at-large, at your service, sir, "attracted to
you. You're a beautiful man. And I, well, I just wanted to watch you for a
bit. Maybe see where you were staying—arrange to have you see me—quite by
accident—in the lobby of your hotel."
"Huh," he grunts suspiciously
Waiting, I lick my lips nervously and stare back at him, pleading silently for
leniency and hoping that he's as dangerous as I believe him to be, that he won't
buy this act and he's probably more paranoid than is healthy—even for one such
as this.
Alex let the man go, stepping back only enough to leave a few inches of room
between them, by no means convinced that this guy was for real. There was
something... indefinably strange about this entire encounter. Alex's instincts
were screaming a wordless warning.
Still, the lure of a one-night stand and the added ego stroking of having
someone following him—not out of any malignant intent but purely motivated by
lust and curiosity—were...
He shook his head and glowered. He didn't have time for this. Did he?
There was a reason people came to this city for their honeymoons, why France had
long ago garnered the reputation for Most Romantic Settings.
Oh well. He could always kill the man later, if this too-innocent and
deceptively winsome creature revealed himself to be a threat.
Alex tilted his head and regarded the lean figure before him. "What's your
name?"
"Adam. Adam Pierson."
Cultured, smooth, English accent... Alex couldn't help noticing the finely boned
features, the elegance behind the almost geeky exterior of this ... this bookish
man. Hell. Alex decided to play this hand and see what it brought him.
"Fine. My hotel's not far."
His obvious suspicion and wariness was still present however, and Adam Pierson's
eyes widened a little more, looking slightly shaken at Alex's supposed
acceptance. It was a little TOO sudden, a little too accepting. Alex couldn't
help but smirk.
"Hey, it's your call, Adam. You want to play? Take your chance; it's up to
you."
Swallowing heavily, I wet my suddenly dry lips.
'Take my chance?'
Damn, this guy is everything I'd hoped for... so far, anyway.
How long, I wonder, will it take him to realize that his menacing demeanor is
EXACTLY what I want—what I need.
Might as well test the waters now. "Play?" I ask innocently. "You aren't into
any—um, kind of S& M stuff, are you? I don't think I'm up for that."
Dropping the innocent act, I continue, "Fucking is what I want. Hard and
fast."
He snorts. "I can go either way, Adam. If fucking is what you want—I'm more
that willing to give you that. Don't expect any lovey-dovey shit, though. THAT
is definitely not my thing."
I raise my eyebrows, allowing him to see a small part of my nature in my eyes.
"No lovey-dovey shit," I promise, raising one hand in a parody of the boyscout
salute. "I swear it."
He grins and steps back. "Well then, follow me, kid."
Somehow, I manage to hide my amusement. 'Kid', indeed. If only he knew...
Alex led the way back to the hotel, noting that Adam seemed to keep an easy pace
with him, taking no note of their surroundings. A local, Alex realized.
Not really in the mood for small talk, but finding himself eager to find out
something about this odd young man he'd picked up, Alex asked, "So, how long
have you been here?"
"Well, give or take a few days, let's see, March, April..." Adam looked at his
watch, "off and on, about six years."
Alex grinned. "You live here? What do you do?"
"I own a bookstore, actually. I don't expect you'd be interested in the kinds
of literature it offers, although you haven't told me what you do—or your
name."
Alex sucked in a breath. This was going farther than he'd intended, even for
small talk. There was just...something... in the way that Adam managed to say
so much, so fast, in such a short space of time and in such a significant tone
of voice. "Alex Krycek. I guess you could say that I travel a lot."
They had arrived at the hotel and Adam turned to look at him at him.
Looking at the inexpensive, but not cheap hotel, I smile. "Looks like you can
find your way around a city. This place is well off of the beaten track—and
quite anonymous."
Oh dear me. I've said too much, I realize, as I watch a wary expression appear
in his eyes. Suspicious green eyes are directed at me.
"What the fuck are you trying to say, Adam?"
He looks to be on the verge of bolting.
I drop my facade for a moment. "Calm yourself, Alex. I've been in more places
than you can count. I recognize you—hell, I've BEEN you far too often to
say."
Laser green eyes burn with warning.
Shit.
"Look," I tell him, "I don't want anything but a good fucking. I know you can
kill me easily—hell, that's what caught my attention." I grin. "You're a
dangerous man, Alex. I see that—and I WANT you."
Well, that had the ring of sincerity, whatever 'Adam' might be after.
Alex was certain now that the innocuous, nondescript bookstore owner was
decidedly not all he appeared to be. For someone who claimed to prefer the
vanilla side of sex, Alex was getting all the signals of a man who wasn't easily
scared. Hell, what was he supposed to think after that crack about being
attracted to someone who could kill him?
With a smirk and a nonchalance he didn't feel, Alex said, "Clear enough. Okay,
Adam. We're in Room 382." He opened the door to the lobby then waited for Adam
to enter.
Damn it, why couldn't anything ever be simple? Why couldn't he pick up someone
who truly was as they claimed to be? He felt he should be used to these twists
of fate that his life always dumped in his lap, from aliens, Mulder and Russia
to nightmares about that fucking silo...
He was going to have to get the truth out of Adam before he fucked him—and he
wasn't sure he could be bothered to do so—not at this point. The illusion
would be nice, as long as it didn't turn on him afterwards. Alex still had no
reassurance that this guy hadn't been sent to contact him, perhaps kill him, in
lieu of the contact that he STILL hadn't made.
In fact, maybe Adam WAS the contact. Frowning slightly, he led the way to the
elevator.
Maybe I've said too much. He's showing definite signs of wanting to know more
about me—question is, how much do I reveal? My true identity is out of the
question. The immortality thing, though...
Hmmm
Maybe.
Certainly I've told him that I see him quite clearly. And, oddly enough, I
think I can trust him with the information.
We walk up to the room, while I mentally debate the wisdom of telling him the
truth about me—well, part of the truth.
What the fuck? Why not?
Once we've entered the room, I turn to look at him. Meeting his eyes, I draw a
deep breath. "Alex," I say, "You should know that I'm well over a century
old."
Damned if he doesn't take this without even a blink.
"You're an Immortal." he says.
You honestly could knock me over with a feather at this point.
With a smirk and a shrug, he takes in my dumbfounded expression. "You'd be
surprised at how much I know."
I watch as he prowls, yes, PROWLS like some kind of nocturnal jungle cat, over
to the window and closes the curtains.
This might prove to be even more fun than I could possibly have imagined.
Alex checked the window out of habit, and upon turning, saw Adam Pierson
lounging in the chair in a completely boneless fashion, as if it were the most
comfortable seat in the world.
He took a breath. "Weapons check, I think. Your kind carries a sword wherever
you go, yeah?"
Adam shrugged and grinned at him. "Not on me right now, I'm afraid. Tell you
what; for every piece of hardware YOU'RE packing and lay out on the table there,
I'll place one of mine down as well."
The slight challenge amused Alex. He suppressed a grin. "Sure, Adam. Whatever
makes you feel more at ease."
Adam snorted and pulled a gun out from behind him, from beneath his long
overcoat.
Alex took out his Sig and placed it on the table, then looked up and met Adam's
eyes.
Adam looked pleased, for some reason, and took out a dagger that was strapped to
his belt. Interesting thing, too—looked like an Afghani hook blade. An
antique, perhaps?
Alex's lips twitched and he pulled up the jeans on his right leg, to remove the
knife he had strapped there.
Adam sat back down. "That's it, I'm afraid. I'm not carrying anything else on
me." He threw Alex a look. "Sorry to disappoint you."
Alex lifted his chin in the direction of the hooked blade. "Afghanistan?"
"Bokhara, actually," Adam informed him.
Alex raised one brow and then removed two more guns, another knife and the
garrote wire from his boot. He left a few weapons in place, however, not
wanting to empty his entire arsenal in front of this man. He'd rather be
standing stark naked than disclose every weapon he was carrying.
Adam's eyes widened somewhat and by the end of Alex's little display, he was
nodding. "A mercenary, then?"
"Sometimes. Don't worry, I'm not here to hunt you," Alex added, suddenly
wondering if maybe the tables had turned a little too quickly on the other man.
For some reason, he really didn't want to intimidate the guy anymore.
Unfortunately, he couldn't trust Adam anymore than Adam could trust HIM. He
sighed.
Walking over to where Adam slouched in the chair, he said, "Stand up."
Adam smirked. "Going to frisk me?"
Alex shrugged. "Of course."
Well. Let the games begin.
I stand and hold my hands out to either side, allowing him free access. I have
no intention of asking him to allow me the same freedom—and, I know full well
that he's still carrying enough armament to start a small war.
Did I say small—shit, I have no doubt that he could easily stage a coup — on
his own — and win quite handily. I can't control a snicker at the thought.
He turns me to face the wall, pushes me up against it and growls. "You laughing
at me?"
"Oh no," I respond innocently. "I'd NEVER make a mistake like that. I was
laughing at my own silly thoughts—that's all."
"Mmmm." He sounds more that a little skeptical, but lets the subject drop and
steps back.
Slowly, I turn to face him again.
"You seem to be clean," he says gruffly.
"Oh, I am. Very clean. Cleanliness," I recite piously, "is next to godliness."
A wry look is his only response.
I like this guy. Really, I do.
Still, I wonder... "So, Alex," I say oh-so casually. "You wouldn't happen to
know a Joe Dawson, would you?"
After he stares at me for a minute, weighing my words, he answers in that
noncommittal way I've come to recognize and enjoy. "And if I do?"
"Oh, just another one of those silly thoughts of mine, that's all. He's a good
friend of mine."
I can't tell if he knows Joe, or if he's just being inscrutable on principle.
Delightful.
Alex suppressed a sigh. This guy, this Immortal Pierson fellow, was about as
paranoid as Mulder, and just about as hard to get a straight answer out of.
Slippery. No doubt his ethics were as apposite as his sexual tastes. What the
fuck was THAT about, anyway? Vanilla-No-S&M-Please-I'm-British on one hand and
slightly psychotic/masochist with a death wish on the other? Then again, he'd
never actually met an Immortal. Who knew what they were into, having had far
longer time in their lives to explore the darker side...
"I don't know anyone by the name of Joe Dawson." It was a small concession.
It seemed to make a world of difference to Adam though, whose face lit up.
"He's a lovely man, a lovely man. You'd like him, I think. Not as much as
you're going to like me, though."
Alex snorted. "You seem overdressed for the occasion."
Adam's eyes twinkled. "Tell you what, Alex, let's go one step further on that
deal we had, earlier. For every item of clothing I remove, you take off
something, too."
Hm. Now THAT was nice. He had to admit to himself that it appealed in a
strange way to his sense of the sublime and the ridiculous.
His eyes reveal more than he suspects, I think.
Not that I'M going to tell him anything of the kind. No, I'll take every
advantage I can get at this point. Moreover, I like his sense of humor, of the
ridiculous. Alex is going to be a most interesting bed partner.
IF we make it to the bed, that is.
What the hell—I'm flexible... in more ways than one.
Deciding to take the first step, I remove my sweater. He seems to like that.
Yep, his eyes heat as he views my torso. I shiver and feel my nipples peak
under his scrutiny.
He hesitates for a moment, then sits at the edge of the bed, bending forward to
pull his boots off.
Hmmm. Methinks he's a little shy—still a bit hesitant about revealing that
missing arm. Well, I can deal with that.
"Alex," I say in a matter-of-fact tone, "I was once a doctor." I leave it at
that—allowing him to figure it out. No dummy this one, understanding dawns in
his eyes.
"I, uh... let me work up to that, okay?"
For the first time, I see his vulnerability. Poor guy — wonder how long it's
been?
"No problem—when you're ready—IF you're ready."
He nods, looks down at the floor, and then clears his throat. "I believe it's
your turn... "
Grinning, I, too, remove my boots. As a bonus, I pull my socks off. Then I
wait to see what he'll reveal next.
With a smirk, he removes his own socks.
Have I told you that I LIKE this guy?
Alex was really enjoying this little dance. Surprisingly, the thought of
actually revealing his missing limb to this man didn't cause him any fear.
Well, not much anyway. The memory of that bitch of a whore actually telling him
to replace his shirt still rankled. Moreover, really making love—fucking—with only one arm had proven to be somewhat of a challenge.
But, tonight—with this Adam guy—well, maybe he could give it another try...
without having to kill his bed partner for laughing at his disability.
Gathering his resolve, he pulled his own sweater over his head. He left the
t-shirt in place, though. Time enough for that. Then—he turned his eyes on
Adam, daring any further comment on his arm and silently challenged the other
man to remove another item of clothing.
Slowly, teasingly, Adam released the top button of his fly: pulled down the
zipper.
"You're a tease," Alex accused him.
A sultry smile was the only answer. With a wriggle and a twist, the jeans were
removed.
"You're a fucking prick tease!" Alex stated.
"The operative word there, my friend, is 'fucking'," Adam pointed out in a
mock-scholarly tone.
Well, hell. Okay. Alex took a deep breath and removed his own jeans—just for
good measure, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, too. Glaring at Adam
challengingly, he reached to remove the prosthesis.
Showing great intelligence, Adam did NOT offer to assist him. Instead, he just
smiled encouragingly and nodded. "Really, Alex," he said. "It doesn't bother
me. And, you have to start somewhere, yes? I've seen... Trust me, amputations
are neither repugnant nor pitiful in my eyes."
"You're beautiful," I say, attempting to meld reverence and awe with just the
right shade of wonderment and delight.
He looks like he could do without the compliment, but a little warmth creeps
over him. I recognize the telltale signs... I realize that he thinks people say
it but rarely mean it. I'm beginning to think I've got my work cut out for me
with this one. Why are all the bold, wild dangerous ones so damaged on the
inside? Professional hazards, perhaps.
Uncomfortably I start to think that maybe what drew me to this Alex in the first
place was that he is something of a mirror.
Let me see, dark past. Check. Drawn to the mysterious in others. Check. Um,
not bad looking, well conditioned, seasoned and fit... without having to even
try. Check.
I can't stand it any longer and I get up, going to him, and gently press my
mouth to his. Slow, sweet, soft...
I draw back and there's this heartbreaking mixture of pain and tenderness and
hope and doubt and even jaded cynicism in his eyes. What a heady combination.
I wonder how many hearts this guy has already broken, without even being aware
of it?
He's still staring at me. I won't ask what he wants. I can read it in his
eyes. He needs to be made love to—cherished. I wonder if he'll let me do
just that. It's clear that HE has no idea what he wants—wouldn't admit it if
he did.
What HAVE I gotten myself into here?
"Shall we?" I ask, indicating the bed.
He looks scared—frightened of the implications. Obviously he's still laboring
under the delusion that a quick and dirty fuck is on the agenda for tonight.
"Look," I say, "a bed will make this much easier on my poor old body."
His look says, 'Yeah, right' but he nods and looks down at the mattress.
Waits.
Okay. I can do this—make him believe this is about my needs. My desires. I
climb into the bed and lay back against the pillows.
"C'mere," I say. He doesn't move. Damn. "Please?" I ask him quietly,
lowering my eyes submissively.
Fuck. FUCK.
Every nerve in his body was telling Krycek to get the fuck out of there. There
was a reason why he never let anyone get this close. It's too damned easy for
them to stick the knife in afterwards.
He stifled a snort—he was falling for it, and Adam was all too aware of that.
Far too pleasant, too charming...the bastard. Too REAL. And—utterly sincere
—that much was quite apparent. He was also playing Alex like a spider toys
with a fly. Drawing him in. Yeah, he wanted it, wanted Alex. He also had
Krycek's number. Knew Alex wanted this just as badly—probably more.
Su-uure, a quick fuck, a release. Nothing more. A drop in the ocean of
discontent and the yearning for fulfillment.
This was a mistake. Alex shrugged the thought off. Fuck it. He'd just add it
to a long list of mistakes he'd made over the years.
Adam's hand slowly moved to his chest and absently rubbed his collarbone,
drawing Alex's attention. Slowly, he moved to sit down beside the other man.
His skin was so pale, translucent—he couldn't stop musing over the angular,
awkward beauty laying sprawled before him...
Adam seemed to have all the grace of a colt, unsteady but with pure potential
for action and power hiding behind a quicksilver, deadly mind and the body of
someone who is whipcord strong. Against his will, Alex felt himself drawn in,
falling, headlong.
Adam reached up and Krycek couldn't help but allow himself to be pulled down
into those long arms... and, damn, it felt good. Not soft. In NO way was
this man soft. No, he was all angles and hardened, stringy muscles.
Soon—too soon—Alex was lost in the feel of him.
And Adam knew it full well.
The bastard.
Dear gods, what a priceless gift, the submission of this beautiful boy, this
broken child... I don't think he has any idea how heartbreaking he is.
His body is so alive and warm against me. I'm falling under his spell and the
enchantment of those wounded green eyes. He's seen far too much. I can relate
to that; I've seen it before, all too often, in my mirror.
I kiss his eyelids, first one and then the other. I want to give him everything
that he needs, everything he wants.
His breath quickens and I can feel my pulse stutter as he rises up, looks into
my eyes momentarily, then presses my head back into the pillows with a kiss. So
strong, so very demanding, this kiss of his.
He's clinging to his dominance over me in this, as if to a lifeline, as though
he would drown if he were to give the reins to me. His lips are warm, his mouth
is hot and hungry, his tongue seeking out mine with such sensuousness that I
can't help wondering what it would be like to own him.
Breaking off the kiss, I meet his eyes. "I want you, Alex," I murmur. "So
much. Tell me what you want."
Oh man. This guy was GOOD. He knew EXACTLY what he was doing. Hell, Krycek
had played this game himself. But, something told him that Adam wasn't playing
him—that he genuinely wanted to give what Alex needed.
And, damn, he needed this—needed Adam.
"I want... I want you. I want... to make love to you," Krycek admitted in a
husky voice. "Adam, I—"
"Hush," he soothed. "I know, Alex."
Alex made a move to roll off to one side, but Adam stayed the motion. "No. I
want you right here—draped on top of me."
Doubtfully, Alex nodded and stayed still.
"Trust me," Adam said, smiling up at Alex. He knew—god alone knew how—but
Adam knew that the submissive position would come back to haunt the assassin one
day. "This will work—for both of us," he said.
Reaching down to grasp Alex's hips, he pulled their hips together and ground
Krycek's erection against his.
Both men gasped.
"Need to—get these—damned boxers off, I think," Alex managed, not wanting to
move away, not wanting to physically separate again.
The boyish and somehow mischievously knowing smile on Adam's face gave Alex the
impetus to do it, however. He backed off slightly, pulling his shorts down and
dropping them over the side of the bed. Adam was already shimmying out of his
own white boxers, revealing narrow hips and a very pretty cock—long, slender—but not too thin. It was thick enough to make Alex's mouth water.
Adam saw that look of hunger and chuckled softly, pleased. "Come back here," he
said, with a smile and enough promise in his voice to drag Alex down to him.
God, Alex wanted this to be slow...and hot...and hard, and Adam's hazel eyes let
him know that it would be exactly that. An unfamiliar desire to just sink into
that lean body—into the promise in those eyes—and make time stop, make the
world disappear, suddenly filled Alex. A storm raging outside couldn't have
distracted Alex from the strikingly intense magnetism between them.
He leaned back over Adam and covered that body with his own, pressing his mouth
to Adam's once more, their cocks meeting and sliding together.
This. Just this. His mouth, this kiss; his body and the feel of the hardness,
the suppleness of him. It was... god...
Alex should've been frightened at the rightness of it all—but it was so
fucking perfect he couldn't find any fear within himself.
It was so perfect that it transcended what Alex had thought he'd wanted, what
he'd imagined it could be like, and even flew above that slightly sorrowful note
of longing and pain that might have threatened his composure. No, there was no
pain here with Adam. None at all.
And somehow, a tiny voice whispered inside of him, in the back of his mind,
telling him that THIS was the real danger he'd been very, very right to fear.
The absence of pain.
This, I see, is a man not used to loving.
Not, I hasten to say, that I'm offering that... exactly. LoveMAKING is my
intention here. Never mind that this started out to be something else—loving
is what he needs, and that's something I can give him.
Soothingly, I rub my hands over his back. He arches like a cat under my
caresses. He doesn't know it, but what I'm going to give him is exactly what he
wants—needs. I let one hand settle on his nape and pull him down into a kiss.
"Mmmm," I hum. I can make him believe this is MY desire — that this is what I
want—, which is exactly what he needs from me right now.
And, I suddenly realize that, yes, this has somehow become MY desire, too. How
and when that happened, I don't know. Nevertheless, it HAS happened.
I watch him falling under my spell. That he now understands and accepts my
offer.
Yes!
Alex's world had slowly melted down into a heated, breathless and driven puddle
of molten lust. His brain had reached that shutdown phase where nothing existed
except the frantic, anticipatory beating of his heart and the deafening rush of
electric desire singing in his ears.
Adam's mouth was just demanding enough to keep him balanced on the edge,
marveling at the simultaneous softness of those lips and the hard urgency of
what was becoming a descent into decadence.
That chest rubbing against his, the flat stomach where both their cocks were
sandwiched between his own belly and Adam's... Those tight encircling arms
keeping him trapped in Adam's hold—it all began to take on the proportions of
some strange dance.
To find safety, respite and desire within the arms of a fellow warrior, one who
knew and understood his own needs better than he did himself...
Alex pulled away, gasping for breath. "Want you—want to fuck you, Adam...
Now."
His face felt flushed and he felt the sweat beading his upper lip lightly; he
licked it away before lowering his head again to catch Adam's mouth with a growl
of satisfaction. It felt like—feeding.
Adam was grinning up at him with a strange wide-eyed expression of delight and
perversity. His words rang wickedly in Alex's ears, "So fuck me. As I said,
Alex, that's what I wanted when I laid eyes on you. And—being Immortal really
has its advantages at times like these—I'm clean. I'm probably the cleanest
slut in Paris." He snickered.
Alex couldn't help returning the grin and then bent once more, this time to bite
at that smooth, tantalizing neck. Arching his head back, offering full
surrender, Adam told him without words that his body was Alex's to do with as he
pleased. Damn, how did the man do this? Offer himself with such ease?
Whatever. Alex had every intention of taking all that Adam offered.
Surprisingly, he found that he WANTED to do it gently—easily—to actually
make love. What WAS this man doing to him?
Nibbling his way along that long, gracefully arched throat, he gradually found
his way to the pretty, perky, hardened nipples waiting for his touch.
I did this, he thought proudly. I'm doing this to him!
As much as Alex wanted Adam, Adam wanted Alex: wanted his touch, his caresses.
Damn, but he liked that. It had been so long—in fact, now that he paused to
think about it, this was all new and...well, wonderful was the only word that
came to mind. Yeah, wonderful. Just what he needed—even though he'd never
realized it—even though he'd never ALLOWED himself to realize it—a gentle
touch was what he'd needed all along.
He didn't let himself understand that this need was Adam-related.
Oh dear. This boy is more dangerous than I had previously thought. He's taking
to loving like a duck to water. Must be all that suppression—the pent-up
sensuality that he's forced to keep up in whatever dangerous profession he has.
Alex is behaving as though I'm a banquet laid out before a starving man.
I could get used to this... his mouth trailing wet fire from my nipples to my
neck, the way he's relaxing from tiger to tomcat on top of me. But it's getting
harder to maintain this careful gentleness. I want to either roll him over and
fiercely take all his sweetness, or beg him to fuck me until I die.
This sensory overload, his body on mine, our muscles beginning to quiver against
each other, the way that his sweat is mingling with mine as it begins to cover
our skin in a sheen—it's all leading up to a peak that I wasn't sure he would
be able to achieve with me.
At last, I give in, and writhing involuntarily under him, I say, "Alex, do it.
Do it now."
My words cause him to pause, motionless for a moment, then he orders, roughly,
"Lift your legs higher."
I freeze; lost in the thrill his voice causes me. A tiger... some kind of a
jungle cat is this man in this moment. Hell, in any moment. Gods, he is
wonderful.
He growls at me, impatient when I don't immediately follow his order. A thrill
runs through me at the sound and I hurriedly do as he's asked.
Appeased, he nods and smiles at me. And what a smile! Damn—he could easily
take over the world with that smile.
Ready—more than ready—I wait with bated breath. And he — the bastard —
scoots down, making sure that I feel every inch, every centimeter, of his body
as he does so. Then—oh fuck—he crouches down and starts teasing my opening
with his tongue.
"OH GODS!" I yell, spreading my legs further, encouragingly. "J-j-jesus," I
stutter. "Allllex—FUCK—that's ... oh shit! That feels... "
His tongue—that talented tongue—pushes into me.
I scream. Can't help it. Shit! Seems I've needed a little lovemaking, myself.
My eyes are rolling back in my head and the pleasure is starting to make my
spine tingle. OH, that tongue... He's far too skilled with it. My hands go to
his head, helplessly sliding through that dark, sleek hair.
Finally, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears, so strained is it, I beg
shamelessly, "Alex, please, fuck me now, oh please..."
DAMN!
Adam's plea sent a shiver of uncontrollable lust surging throughout Alex's body
and he reluctantly gave one long, last lick to his tender feast before moving up
to momentarily mouth Adam's balls. Sitting up, he said, "Get me ready for you.
Use your mouth."
Adam stared back at him, his pupils huge and dark in his eyes, making him look
utterly fuckable and making Alex want to ravish that mouth again, that neck...
Focus, focus! Alex forced himself to sit back and give Adam room to get up and
lean down to lick his cock, wetting it heavily with saliva. Adam's limbs were
trembling, betraying his own level of excitement.
"That's all the lubrication you're going to get," Alex whispered, loving the way
his words seemed to visibly shake Adam.
After one final mouthing to the head of Alex's cock, Adam quickly laid back
against the pillows, spreading his legs so that Alex could easily move atop him.
Alex inched forward, placing himself between those long legs, taking his cock in
hand and pressing it against Adam's ass, sliding the wet tip of his cock up and
down Adam's crack.
"Fuck...Alex, please, just... just DO it!" Adam managed, hoarsely.
With a wild grin and a deliberately slow thrust of his hips, Alex stared into
Adam's eyes as he slid his cock past the tight ring of muscle and then stopped.
He waited for Adam to react, and when Adam's ass clenched around him once...
twice, then relaxed, he slid further into that hot, sweet slippery tunnel. Alex
whimpered.
Slowly, with a gentleness heretofore foreign to him, Alex pushed into Adam until
he was buried to the hilt. Holding still, frozen in place, he stared down into
cloudy hazel eyes, drinking in the open pleasure that shone at him.
Finally, apparently ready now, Adam frowned in feigned displeasure. "You
planning to move any time soon?" he grumbled.
"Mmmm, well, since you ask so nicely... " Grinning, Alex began to thrust,
thrilling to each sound his motion wrought from Adam's throat.
"Like that, do you?"
"Jesus CHRIST! Shut up and fuck me HARD already," Adam demanded, pushing up
into Alex's next move. "Ooooh," Adam crooned. "That's wonderful—now, HARDER.
I need... I need more, Alex. Please."
With a grunt, Alex did as asked. Their bodies met with an audible sound every
time he buried himself inside of that delightful heat.
SLAP
GRUNT
SLAP
WHIMPER
SLAP
SCREAM
OH. Yes. This. This was—what I'd wanted, hard, animal FUCKING. Made all the
sweeter... OH GODS... by the distinct beauty of shared intimacy bearing it to
fruition.
My world has been reduced to a succession of endless shocks of pleasure with
every timely thrust of Alex's invading cock deep inside of me. I can feel the
burning sensation of imminent orgasm starting to thread all along my veins,
throughout my body. With all the delicacy of a tornado, it rushes over me,
sweeping through my body like the Quickening. I'm going to come without a
single touch to my aching cock.
I don't even have time to say anything, try to coherently form any kind of
warning before I'm exploding, a mindless shriek of ecstasy resounding in my ears
—oh, right, it's my own...followed on its heels by Alex's as he empties
himself into my ass with pounding thrusts. He's jerking and shuddering and he's
so fucking beautiful that I can't help feeling after-tremors of renewed
climaxing run through me, pulsing out of my organ that lies now trapped between
our sticky bodies.
His breaths are now gasped sobs, as he finally comes to rest within me. I close
my eyes and wrap my arms around him, my hands on his head.
My beautiful boy: what a priceless vision. What a moment to treasure. The
chase was excelled, as was even the anticipation, by the pleasure we've
discovered here.
I hadn't thought to find love.
Alex lay with his head on Adam's breast, feeling the gradually quieting pounding
of the heart beneath him. He kept his eyes closed, not yet willing to return to
any semblance of reality or life...
And the first pang reached inside of him to squeeze his own heart. Their words
of earlier came echoing back to haunt him: 'No lovey-dovey shit...' 'No, none,
I promise.'
"Relax," Adam said, tightening his hold on Alex. "It is what it is—was
perfect, in fact. Enjoy it for what it was, Alex. And stop thinking so much."
Alex considered those words for a moment, then decided that Adam was right.
Hell, after over a hundred years of life, the man SHOULD be right—should
understand. And... against his will, Alex found that he wanted to believe.
He snickered. 'Wanted to believe', indeed. Fucking Mulder. Ruthlessly, he
shoved such thoughts aside and relaxed against Adam.
"Okay—I will—stop thinking, that is." He yawned mightily. "'Sides, 'm
tired. Sleep now..." he mumbled.
Hell, I know he'll be gone come morning. Can't bring myself to care, though.
He will be back. This I know.
And I'll be waiting...
We've made a connection here. And, I think—no, I KNOW—that, though it'll be
difficult—we'll remain lovers.
With a sigh, I close my eyes and allow myself to sleep under him... loving—yes, loving—the feel of his body still lying atop me.
Let tomorrow bring what may, I'll deal with it as it comes.
Alive In the City of Light
by Jami Wilsen and Jennie
Alex shoved his hand into his right pocket. Here he was, at the tail end of
summer, in Paris: wandering around like a tourist and feeling like a fool. He
stared up at the Eiffel Tower and shook his head: vastly overrated. The Seine
wasn't all it was cracked up to be, either. Nor the Rhine. In fact, so far on
this little tour around Europe, the only thing that had lived up to its
reputation had been David.
