Skinner had always known that Krycek was a natural born
fighter. The man moved with an economy of grace that let
any other fighter be forewarned. Krycek was lethal, but it
wasn't formal training or conditioning that made him so.
He had both of those, and more, but it was his instinctive
need to survive that made him so dangerous. Krycek could
and would handle almost any situation, and come out on
top, because he was willing to do whatever it took to stay
alive.
Mulder, on the other hand, was an unexpected fighter. It
wasn't natural for him, sometimes Skinner wondered if the
man had a survival instinct at all. Left to himself,
Mulder didn't eat, didn't sleep, worked crazy hours on
impossible tasks and generally drove himself into the
ground with a sledgehammer. He had a slender build,
despite his height, he didn't like to sustain eye contact,
was awkward with most forms of physical contact. Most
fighters would take one look at him and dismiss him. And
that would be their big mistake.
While true that Mulder was neither a natural nor an
accomplished fighter, despite his FBI training, it was not
true that he was no threat. He was a very serious threat,
because you couldn't see his best two weapons: his mind
and his will. Mulder could and would take on almost anyone
or anything, demand victory and be given it. First he'd
use that incredible mind to find any hint of a fault or
weakness, then he'd pit his willingness to sacrifice
everything against his opponent's need to overcome. He
would win, because he wasn't afraid to lose it all, down
to his last breath.
And now, with a pounding heart, Skinner watched as both
men gave it their all, locked in the most fierce combat
Skinner had ever had the mercy of merely witnessing. He
shuddered to think what it would be like to have to take
part, to choose a side and feel either man turn on him
with that destructive energy. No, he'd stay down and
silent, wait until it was over, then move in.
Skinner sensed a giving way, felt a change in the tension
around them. The action took on an even more serious pall,
the battle peaking, the clash of wills all but ringing
like swords.
It was horrible and yet beautiful, to see the strident
green in Krycek's eyes, to watch Mulder's hazel go almost
gold. Their movements were a vivid dance of victory and
defeat, each man taking a lead and then releasing it, only
to find themselves ensnared in a draw yet again.
It seemed as though they had been fighting for hours, when
suddenly there was a tiny sound of shock, the verbal
expression of the horror of a mistake. A crucial, critical
mistake, and Skinner strained to see, to figure out what
had happened, who had the advantage, who was finished.
With a look of almost childlike disbelief, Mulder stared
down, unable to believe what he was seeing. One move, one
step, made too soon and thereby false, and Krycek's voice
held power, radiated glory and threw ash.
"Checkmate."
Mulder stared at the board a moment longer, then carefully
placed his king face-down, acknowledging the defeat with
good, if silent, grace. Alex held out a hand, and Mulder
shook it solemnly, seeing the brilliant smile edging
around his lover's mouth.
Smiling, Mulder pulled Alex to him for a hug and said
warmly, "Congratulations, Alex. You did it, you beat me
fair and square. I'm proud of you, babe."
Alex held tightly for just a moment longer, then pulled
back, beaming. "I did it! I finally beat you! I won, Fox,
I won! Walter, did you see? I won!"
Skinner, who'd come around the kitchen bar now and entered
the family room, reached out to hug an exuberant Alex. "I
saw it all, Alex. That was one hell of a match, you should
be very proud of yourself, love."
Mulder met Skinner's eyes over the top of Alex's head,
sharing a smile of pure love and pride. This would have
been an impossible moment not too long ago.
When Alex had first joined them, he didn't play games. It
wasn't that he didn't want to play, or didn't like to
play. It was that he didn't know how. Seems the Consortium
didn't allow much time or effort for games, not the
recreational kind. Alex read, that was always allowed and
encouraged, but aside from gambling games such as poker
and blackjack, he'd never really played any games.
The first time Alex had seen Walter and Fox drag out the
gloves and baseball, he'd found it an amusing quirk. When
Mulder got up two hours early on a day off to go shoot
hoops with strangers at the park, Alex was puzzled.
Skinner's devotion to college football frankly bored him
to tears.
Still, he'd tried them all. Alex loved spending time with
Fox and Walter, loved seeing them relaxed and happy.
Besides, he'd always been curious about such things,
viewing them as part of life on the outside. Now, he was
outside too, and he eagerly began to experiment.
It was soon decided that while Alex had no patience for
most physical sports, there were exceptions. Two
exceptions, to be precise. Mulder had been flipping
channels one night when Alex stopped him, urging him to go
back. He'd sat, enraptured, for the next thirty minutes,
as the last of the European Gymnastics Championships had
wound to a close, the men's all-around being decided.
Walter and Fox were bemused but supportive of Alex's new
addiction. After all, if they were forced to share the
television on Sunday afternoons, well, watching half-naked
young men all built to Tom of Finland standards wasn't
exactly a sacrifice. They had thought this might even be
the reason Alex liked it, but he watched the women compete
just as avidly, leading them to conclude it was the sport,
not the participants. That was the first.
The other exception was speed skating. Alex didn't care if
it was short-track or the 1000, he genuinely enjoyed
watching, and had even begun to spend time at the local
ice rink, determined to learn to skate. Walter, trying to
expand on this, had shown him a hockey game. Alex had been
faintly interested, until they'd gotten to scoring.
"A tie? You mean they could play for hours, have
overtimes, and it could still end in a tie?"
"Yes."
"The official final score can be a tie?"
"Yes."
"What kind of bullshit is that?"
That was the end of hockey, soccer and any other sport
that refused to allow a clear winner. Alex was through
with ambiguities.
They'd had no such problems with board games, until they
got to chess. Mulder was a chess fan, always had been. He
and the Gunmen had played many games against each other,
and Walter was a fair player, too. Alex had watched Mulder
playing Frohike once, and after, had asked to be taught.
"Uh, Alex, you should know, chess can end in a draw."
"I know, I've seen you and Melvin go to a draw. But it's
different. It's not about your body, it's about your mind.
Somebody's always got to be bigger and stronger. But
there's not always somebody smarter. Sometimes," and here
he'd grinned at Mulder, "somebody's just as smart as you
are, only in a different way."
Mulder had figured Alex would be an incredible chess
player. His younger lover had all the smarts, all the
instincts, and was very familiar with strategy. He'd begun
teaching Alex the game over a year ago, patiently guiding
him through every level. And now, finally to Alex, very
quickly to Fox, Alex had beaten Fox, had triumphed over
his teacher.
Mulder began to clear away the pieces, the duty of the
loser. "Alright, Alex, you won. I promised you that if you
ever beat me at chess, you could name your reward, within
reason. What do you want, babe?"
"Three things. I don't want you to tell Melvin." Alex had
been bugging Frohike to play him, but Frohike had been
putting him off, not wanting to play a "beginner". As
such, Frohike had no idea how good Alex really was, and
Alex wanted to keep it that way.
"Granted. Next?"
"I want my own chess set. The soapstone set we saw at the
mall." It was lovely, shades of natural, creamy beiges and
tans for white, grays and smudgy blacks for black.
"You were going to get that anyway, so sure. What's the
last thing?"
"You. I want you to sub for me." Alex said it quietly,
unsure of Mulder's reaction.
Alex had seen Fox submit to Walter, of course, had even
spent the evening once sharing sub-space, so to speak. But
Alex had never asked Mulder to submit to him, had been
unable to think of it without raising the ghosts of their
past.
"Alex? Why that? And why now?" Walter's voice was soft,
carefully neutral as he posed the questions. Mulder
remained quiet, but his teeth were sunk firmly in his
bottom lip.
"I've always wanted it. From the first time I saw you guys
playing that way, I wanted it. He's so beautiful like
that, Walter, just amazing. The way he gives it all up,
the way he gives himself over to you, trusting you so damn
much, it takes my breath away. I want that. I need it,
need to know he trusts me like that, that he believes I
can give him that happiness, that I can take him there. As
for why now, that's simple."
Alex stopped, looking over at Mulder and motioning to the
board.
"I've been playing chess with him for a year now. A year
spent learning chess, yes, but more importantly, a year
spent learning Fox's mind. I know now how his thoughts go,
the way they feel, the direction they take. I'm strong
enough now. I'm not afraid of his mind anymore, not
intimidated by his genius. I trust him that much now,
trust myself enough now, to do that. For both of us."
Alex continued, his voice sincere.
"You don't have to, Fox. I understand if you can't, swear
to God, if it's only Walter you can do that for, I
understand."
"Thank you, Alex. That means a lot to me. But it's not
necessary. I'd love to sub for you. You're right, it's
okay now, you're ready for me." There was a flash of that
famous Mulder smile, and Alex relaxed.
"Ah, but are you ready for me?"
Mulder laughed, then slowly crossed the room. Stopping in
front of Alex, he knelt gracefully, crossing his arms
behind his back, and bowing his head as he knelt up at
Alex's feet.
"To the victor go the spoils. You have won me, Master. I
am yours." Mulder was dressed in nothing but a pair of
worn blue jeans, his feet bare. He looked impossibly
young, and every inch the erotic dream. Walter hoped Alex
wouldn't mind him watching. This was going to be good.
Alex used a single fingertip under Mulder's chin to raise
the bent head. "Look at me."
The hazel eyes did so at once, and under the excitement
and arousal, Alex saw nothing but peaceful submission,
complete trust and the calm that came with it. Bending
down, Alex pressed a kiss to lips that were already
slightly parted, tasting the submission as well as seeing
it.
"Upstairs. Wait for me by the bed, just as you are."
"Yes, sir." Mulder stood, turning to go. Alex swatted the
denim clad backside hard as it swayed past him, enjoying
the gentle smile this provoked.
"Walter, you're welcome to watch, of course. This is going
to be good."
With a wicked grin, Alex went upstairs, Walter following
closely behind.
Opening the door to their bedroom, Alex was greeted by a
lovely sight. Kneeling up, back to the door, was Fox. He
was gorgeous, from the way the lowered head revealed his
neck, down to the lovely play of shoulder and back,
emphasized by the crossed arms. The swell of his bottom,
not far under those crossed arms, fell away temptingly to
leanly muscled thighs, tight calves and, finally, the
graceful curve of bare feet.
He was beautiful, and he belonged to Alex, for a little
while at least. Alex took another long moment to savor the
sight, then carefully centered himself before moving to
stand before Fox.
Alex said nothing, only let his hand come to rest on Fox's
neck, the weight welcomed by the kneeling man, who tilted
his neck even further in an effort to please.
"Beautiful. You're beautiful, my Foxling, do you know
that?"
"I know you make me feel that way, Master." It was a
softly whispered admission, Fox not sure if he was to
answer or not, but needing to do so.
Alex gave a small exhalation of amusement. "I suppose that
will do, for now. But no more talk, I don't want to hear
you say a word. Sounds, yes, all the sounds you want to
make, but no words. Do you understand?"
Fox nodded, a faint wistful sighing letting Alex know
there was more.
"Alright, Fox, before we begin, is there something you
wish to say to me? This is your last chance for words,
other than your safewords."
"Yes, Master."
"Speak."
"May...may I have permission to say one thing, Master?"
"What thing, my Fox?"
"'Please.' I would like permission to beg freely."
"Look at me."
Alex, his heart and stomach already flipping at Fox's
words, now looked down into the placid, yet yearning face.
The thought of Fox asking to be allowed to beg at will was
almost enough to make Alex's knees buckle, and combined
with the sweetness of Fox's visible submission, Alex felt
like he'd been drugged.
"Permission granted."
Denied words, Fox knelt down, kissing Alex's equally bare
feet. He didn't try to take it any further, merely
bestowed his thanks and knelt back up.
Alex moved to sit on the bed in front of Fox.
"Come here, Foxling. Stand in front of me."
Fox did so at once, and Alex began slowly unbuttoning the
jeans, revealing first the pale gold of Fox's lower
abdomen, then the first soft curls of pubic hair. Finally,
Fox's erection was freed, full and flushed. Alex ignored
it and continued to slide the jeans down each long, tanned
leg. When Fox had stepped out of them, Alex spoke again.
"Put your hands on my shoulders, boy."
Fox obeyed at once, and Alex let his hands rest on Fox's
hips. He spent a long time looking, just looking, at his
lover. Mulder would seldom sit still long enough for Alex
to get his visual fill, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
Even now, despite his desire to please Alex, Fox's hands
were twitching with the need to cover or move, and the
skin was covered in goosebumps, despite the warmth of the
afternoon and the room.
Alex looked up, seeing that Fox had closed his eyes, and
that a faint blush was covering the lovely face.
Reaching around, Alex popped a rounded hind cheek, hard.
"Open those eyes, boy." When Walter said 'boy' in a scene,
it was growl, a rumble. When Alex said it, it was a
diminutive, a genuine expression of how he saw Fox, right
now. Fox was his boy, his slaveboy, and Alex loved,
wanted, needed and punished all based on that fact. It was
a husky, gentle name of affection, and Fox's cock
stiffened in response.
Alex saw that the eyes were now open, but were staring
intently at the far wall, as Fox tried to distance himself
from Alex's viewing. It wasn't a disobedience of act, but
of will, and Alex wasn't about to let Fox get away with
it.
Without a word, Alex used his hold on Fox's hips to pull
the man close, between Alex's spread thighs. A dip and
pull, and Fox gave a startled yip as he found he was now
lying over Alex's shoulder. One of Alex's arms held Fox's
legs at the knees, the position quite comfortable since
Alex was still sitting on the bed, using it to help him
support Fox's weight.
Grinning at having caught Fox unawares with the unusual
position, Alex brought his hand down firmly in a very
satisfying spank. Fox gasped, and Alex felt the tiny surge
of shock run through the long frame. Alex turned his face,
pressing a kiss to the warm flank, and then began spanking
in earnest.
He said nothing, just brought his hard palm down
repeatedly on Fox's upturned rear, his hand stinging the
lower curves again and again. The tops of the thighs
caught more than a few blows, and Alex was rewarded as the
small grunts were accompanied by the faintest lifting of
Fox's feet, a moral kicking out prompted by the indignity
of his position.
Moving his hand back up, Alex caressed the reddened sit
spots, feeling the welcome heat in his palm, before
returning to hard slaps, his hand coming down on the now
tender rear again and again.
"Please?" A groan, as a spank already on its way landed,
and then Fox asked again, "Please?"
Alex paused, his hand on the chastened flesh.
"You will not fight me on this, Fox. I want to look at
you, and you're going to let me. Is that clear?"
A nod, accompanied by the sound of defeat, and Alex set
Fox back on his feet. Fox's face was darkly flushed from
hanging upside down, but his eyes were careful to meet
Alex's.
"Better." Alex saw the swallow as Fox prepared to let Alex
look again. This time, though still reluctant, Fox did
nothing to hinder Alex's viewing, and more importantly,
stayed fully aware of the intense gaze the entire time.
Pleased, Alex drew Fox into his lap, cuddling him close,
urging the dark head to burrow into the comforting niche
of neck and shoulder. Alex felt the tremble, heard the
slight hitch to the breath, and knew his boy was very near
tears from that simple little exercise, and the relief of
having managed it.
"There, there, Foxling, it's alright, sweet. That was
good, very good. I know how hard that was for you, and I'm
proud of you."
This time, a sniffle reached him, and Alex spent several
minutes just hugging Fox tightly, before easing him to sit
up. Sitting on Alex's lap, Fox was slightly taller, and so
Alex used a warm hand on the back of Fox's neck to pull
him down for a kiss.
"Now," Alex said with a touch of amusement, "get on the
bed, boy, on your hands and knees. I want to play with
you."
A happy, if still slightly tremulous smile, and Fox moved
into position. He arranged himself just so, and then
demurely looked over one shoulder.
"Please?"
Alex silently counted to thirty before he dared move. He
reached to the bedside table and pulled out the lube,
taking a fair amount into one palm, letting it warm.
"Your ass is still red, Fox. Does it still hurt?"
Fox shook his head. His bottom was still warm and
sensitive, but it didn't hurt.
"Do you want it to? Do you want me to make it hurt just
before I take you?" Alex knew it was his choice, but he
also wanted to make this special for Fox. The forehead
wrinkled slightly, and the teeth worried at his bottom
lip. Alex reached out, very lightly tapping Fox's mouth
with careful fingers.
Fox released the lip at once, apologizing with his eyes,
kissing Alex's fingertips in gratitude.
"You're welcome. Now, you've had a spanking from me, Fox.
Do you want a paddling as well? I'm not angry or
displeased, you know this, and your answer won't displease
me either. So, the truth, Foxling, should I tan your
lovely backside for you?"
A slow nod, and Fox blushed with shame at the admission,
even as he whispered, "Please?"
Alex kissed Fox's stained face as a reward for the painful
honesty, and then reached for another drawer. Alex knew
exactly which paddle he wanted, a medium weight simple
length of wood, the very definition of a paddle. It had
come from an on-line auction, had once been used in a
boy's boarding school, but Alex had been assured it had
never actually been used to paddle anybody under the age
of eighteen.
Still, it had the school crest painted on it, and added
perfectly to the mood Alex sensed Fox was sharing with
him. He tossed it on the bed, and then returned his
attention to the now warmed lubricant. Using just the tip
of one finger, Alex began to teasingly touch Fox's cleft,
almost playfully anointing and prepping his lover.
Fox, always vocal, moaned and groaned his way through the
loving torture, his hips fighting hard to keep still as
Alex added more lube and more fingers, stroking deeply
inside him.
"Please! Please, oh please, oh please!" Fox didn't care
that he sounded like a virgin Princess about to get a much
anticipated ravishing. He only knew that he was in thrall
to Alex's touch, that he was living and breathing for the
next stroke.
Alex grinned, but it wasn't evil. He was glad, very glad
to see the evidence of Fox's need and pleasure. Alex had,
despite his words, still been a bit anxious that he might
not give Fox a good scene. His worries on that score
banished, Alex wiped his hand on a tissue and picked up
the paddle.
Fox whined a protest, but it was too late, the choice had
already been made. Moving to the side, Alex placed a
steadying hand in the small of Fox's back and then
measured his swing with care. The board came down with a
loud smacking sound, and Fox surged, a short cry of pain
escaping him.
The skin blazed a bright magenta where the paddle had
landed, and now Alex swept up at the lower portion of
Fox's rear, drawing another bold rectangle and a sharper
cry, higher pitched. A last blazing lick across the
fullness of the quivering rear, and Fox shuddered as he
sucked in a wailing breath.
Immediately, Alex dropped the paddle and unfastened jeans
that had been too tight since they'd begun. Freeing his
aching cock, Alex pulled Fox a bit closer to the edge of
the bed, tilted his hips a fraction higher, and then,
after ensuring his placement, drove into Fox to the hilt
with a single stroke.
The suddenly impaled man stiffened, then began to buck
like a wild thing, his hips surging in every direction,
while Alex simply tightened his grip and held tight. After
a few moments, when Fox simply knelt, panting and
quivering, head hanging to the mattress, Alex relaxed his
hold and began to move. It wouldn't take long, they both
knew that, and with the first slow deep stroke, Fox
summoned the breath to speak.
"Please?" It was a litany, a chant, a mantra, as Alex
fucked him with an exquisite precision that made him want
to cry. At last, Alex's palm wrapped around his cock, and
Mulder thrust into it for all he was worth.
"Now, my beautiful boy, come for me, Fox."
And he did, spilling over Alex's fingers, even as he felt
Alex shuddering and spilling deep within him. Too weak to
remain upright, Fox slumped to the mattress, only his ass
still up in the air, and that only because of Alex's hands
on his hips, keeping it there.
Gradually, Alex eased out, kissed the well-used bottom,
and flopped down onto the bed beside Fox.
"Thank you, Fox. Thank you so much."
"You're welcome, Master. Thank you, Alex, that was
incredible." Fox could barely form the words, and it was
with an effort of will that he tried to drag himself more
fully onto the bed.
Strong hands assisted him, and it was with some surprise
that Fox turned to see Walter. He'd honestly forgotten the
other man was in the room. He watched as Walter urged Alex
into a more comfortable position, too, before the big man
left, coming back with a warm wet cloth.
Walter cleaned them both up and covered them with the
sheet. They were cuddling together, both nearly asleep,
and Walter pressed a kiss to each man, before leaving them
to their slumber.
Walter adjourned to the shower. He'd found his own release
while watching his lovers, and he decided that since he
wasn't sleepy, a shower would be a very good idea.
As he turned on the water, he looked back into the
bedroom. Mulder was pillowed against Alex's chest, both
men's faces full of contentment, even asleep. Happily,
Walter stepped under the spray. Next time, it was his turn
to play Alex.
THE END.
Spoils of War
by Raven
Skinner was all but holding his breath. He stayed put,
firmly in the background, trying hard not to make the
slightest movement or noise, hoping like hell he wasn't
going to distract the two men he'd been watching so
intently.
