A shot rang out in the frosty air. The man came to a stop,
staring up at a figure in black silhouetted against the blue
skies of Ontario. The assassin lifted his gun hand and
quickly whipped off his hood.
It was Alex Krycek.
The Cigarette Smoking Man smiled, thinking to himself that
this would be an appropriate ending after all.
"Take your shot, Alex!" he shouted, and turned away.
"Right there!" Krycek's voice was firm. The CSM halted
and
glanced up once more.
"I was sent to bring you back," stated Krycek. His
green
eyes bore into his enemy's. Time seemed to stretch out like
liquid taffy while the smoker waited, uncertain now.
Then Krycek lowered the gun.
"But I'm not sure I want to," he said so quietly the
CSM
thought he'd misheard.
"What?"
In lieu of an answer, Krycek inclined his head in the
direction of the cabin behind them. "Let's talk."
"If you're going to kill me, I'd just as soon die here."
"I'm not going to kill you. At least," Krycek's mouth
twitched in the ghost of a smile, "not until after I've had
a chance to hear your side of the story."
The CSM shrugged. At Krycek's gesture, he moved ahead of his
former associate and they walked slowly back to the cabin in
the woods. Krycek let the smoker enter first, barely
glancing at the body of the other assassin, the one who'd
been unfortunate enough to open the front door and get a
shotgun blast to the chest for his daring.
When Krycek stepped across the threshold, he saw the CSM
calming putting a kettle of fresh water on to boil.
"Tea?" he asked.
Krycek nodded briefly while scanning the interior of the
room for possible traps. The CSM made a sound that might
have been a snort.
"You have nothing to worry about, Alex."
"Oh, yeah?" Krycek finally sat down in a chair and
eyed the
other man warily.
"Yes. You're the one with the gun, remember?"
The smoker checked the water, then poured them both a cup of
tea. Krycek took his and sipped the hot liquid before
setting it down again.
"So." The CSM sat down on a double bed that had been
pushed
against one wall. He shook a cigarette from his ever-present
pack of Morleys and lit up. "You wanted to talk."
"I just wanted to know why."
"I presume you're referring to that little incident with
the
car bomb."
Krycek's eyes narrowed angrily. "That 'little incident'
nearly cost me my life, you bastard."
"Temper, Alex."
"Then there was that business with the missile silo. You
did
that too, didn't you? You meant for me to starve in there!"
The CSM shook his head, almost sadly. "I know you don't
remember it, Alex, but I also let you out. Didn't you ever
wonder why the door was locked one minute and open the next?
You were unconscious, of course, but I made sure you were
still alive before I left."
Krycek frowned. "Even if I believed that, I still want
to
know why. Cardinale was the screw-up, not me. Why didn't you
go after him?"
"Ah, but we did. He's dead, you know."
"Hmph. I'm not surprised. Yet I'm alive."
"So you are. I've missed you, Alex. I suppose I kept hoping
you'd return to the fold someday."
Slowly, the CSM set his cup down and stubbed out his
cigarette. Equally slowly, he reached across the gap between
them and laid one hand on Krycek's thigh.
"We had some good times, didn't we?"
Krycek pursed his lips as if thinking. His expression
softened just a bit.
"Yes. I suppose we did." He covered the CSM's hand
with his
own. "Damn you."
"Of course." The smoker lifted his free hand and
brought
Krycek's mouth to meet his.
Krycek groaned deep in his throat. He embraced the other
man, his lover, his enemy. He no longer knew which, or
cared. All that mattered at the moment was the heavy
throbbing of his cock.
The CSM smiled. He lifted Krycek's right hand and drew him
over to the bed. He opened Krycek's coat and began to run
his hands over his lover's arms, then stopped in shock and
confusion. The CSM stared back into eyes that had suddenly
gone cold.
"A mishap in Russia. I lost my arm to some overeager
peasants." Krycek refused to elaborate further.
"I'm sorry." The smoker tried to touch the join of
flesh and
plastic, but Krycek pulled away angrily.
"Leave it," he growled.
The CSM nodded. He put his arms around Krycek's neck,
careful to avoid contact with the prosthetic. They kissed,
and after a moment, Krycek relaxed once more. He returned
the CSM's advances with increasing fervor.
"Come back to me, Alex," the smoker murmured into
the young
man's ear. "I've really, really missed you."
"Mmmm," said Krycek in response. He licked the smoker's
lower lip, savoring the bite of nicotine on his tongue.
"Show me."
It was the smoker's turn to moan as Krycek pushed him down
onto the bed. While the CSM watched from his prone position,
Krycek toed off each boot and squirmed out of his black
pants, letting them drop to the floor. He left his shirt on.
"Your turn," demanded Krycek in his dark, husky voice.
The CSM couldn't undress fast enough. Krycek noted the scar
on his exposed chest silently. Then the smoker was naked,
his cock already hard against his belly. He turned slightly
and withdrew a couple of small packets from the bedside
table.
Krycek chuckled. "Condoms and lube? Up here?"
The smoker shrugged. "You never know."
"Yeah." Krycek lay down on his right side, draping
the
artificial arm across his stomach, away from the smoker. He
wiggled his ass invitingly. "Do me."
The CSM nearly came then and there. He held his breath for
a
moment to regain control, then carefully donned a rubber. He
spread some of the lube onto his fingers and pressed one
long, yellowed digit into the puckered ring of Krycek's
asshole. Krycek gasped, pushing back onto the finger until
it was swallowed whole.
"Yesss," he hissed. "Now."
The smoker couldn't wait. Bracing himself with his hands on
Krycek's slim hips, he buried his cock inside the young man
in one long, smooth thrust. Krycek shouted wordlessly. The
pain was quickly replaced by pleasure as the CSM angled the
next thrust across his prostate gland. Krycek gripped the
sheets with his good hand and rode the cresting waves of
excitement. To his great surprise, he felt the smoker's hand
slip around his waist to grasp and stroke him avidly.
Krycek uttered a shrill cry that began deep in his chest and
spilled out of him in tandem with ropy bursts of come. The
CSM released Krycek's cock, dug his nails into the young
man's hips and grunted his own release with a last deep
push. Krycek spasmed once more, then lay panting within his
lover's embrace.
Evening was falling. Krycek stirred.
"I'd better go." He rolled over and gazed deep into
the
CSM's eyes. "I suggest you find another place to live, and
soon."
The smoker sat up and lit another cigarette.
"Where would I go, Alex? I like it here."
Krycek shrugged. "It's your funeral."
He pulled on his clothes one-handed, with practiced ease.
Planting a kiss on the CSM's cheek, he rose from the bed and
headed for the bathroom. A minute later, he emerged,
smiling.
The CSM followed Krycek to the door. No words were
exchanged. The smoker stood in the doorway, watching as
Krycek headed up the hill, then he turned and went inside.
At the top of the rise, Krycek paused. He stared down at the
cabin, his brow furrowed. As he watched, a blast of heat
rocked him back on his heels. The tiny log structure seemed
to sway, then flames engulfed it from one end to the other.
In minutes, there was nothing to see but smoldering ash.
Krycek grinned wolfishly.
"Smoke on that, you son of a bitch."
Then he resumed his climb, a black phantom in a world of
white.
The End...
Snowbound
by Russianrat
The old man's breath came in harsh gasps as he ran
laboriously through heavy snow, his coattails flapping
around him. Mentally, he blessed the shapeshifter for
cleaning out his lungs not so long ago; otherwise, he would
hardly have been able to run at all. Nevertheless, he heard
his pursuer closing in on him rapidly.
