We've already said Goodbye
I awake from my trip off this planet, and return to Earth, brought back from my
mindless depression by a soft noise. I have a visitor. They're not welcome
tonight, but the gentle knocking at my door is insistent, and it interferes with
my misery.
My Alex. I loved him above all others, and I thought he loved me equally, until
he betrayed me. He conspired against me to abduct Scully from Skyland Mountain,
then he left after killing my prime witness.
He fucking left me.
The knocking continues, refusing to cease and the noise rattles around my head,
filling my mind and breaking my concentration. I haul myself off the couch to
answer the god-damned door.
I peer through the spy-hole, out into an empty corridor. For a moment I think I
have finally lost my mind, then the knocking comes again—soft, insistent. I
open the door.
Alexei!
For a moment my heart swells, as it always did when seeing this man. But he looks
different now—his face is marred by tear tracks, his eyes red, and new lines
undoubtedly caused by stress have appeared on his beautiful face. He looks like
hell.
I try to close the door, as reality crashes down on me—the nightmare ride to
the top of Skyland Mountain, the car stopping meters from the top, and Alex, my
Alex at the controls. He was the one who stopped me; had he not interfered Scully
may still be with us.
He is too fast. He stands quickly from his place out of sight of the spy-hole,
and jams his foot into the doorway before I can fully close it.
"Fox... please."
Reluctantly, I allow him entry. I don't want to see him, but then I could never
truly refuse him anything. And I'd rather do this in my apartment, away from my
neighbours' prying eyes.
I stand away from him, my arms folded across my chest and cold accusation in my
eyes. My protection from his sweet words and gentle touches, from the tears that
even now gather in his eyes. He can't look me in the face; instead he stares past
my shoulder.
This silence is killing me.
At last, he speaks. "Fox. I'm so sorry."
And when I reply, my voice is devoid of emotion, and life.
"You betrayed me. You gave Scully to them. "
His world looks like it's falling in on him, one piece at a time. I can see it
all in his eyes—I could never refuse him, but he could never hide from me. So I
thought.
"Please, Fox. Let me explain. I had to delay you. Stop you getting up that
mountain."
I ignore him. I refused to be taken in by his lying words and his trusting eyes
that make me believe them.
He quickly steps closer to me, takes my shoulders in his hands. I always loved
what those hands would do to me—they would dance over my skin, leaving fire in
their wake, or draw the day's tension out of my shoulders with that skilled
touch.
He tries to draw me close, but I refuse to go to him. Instead, he wraps his arms
tightly around me, as close as my folded arms will allow, and he buries his face
in my neck. I know he is smelling my skin—he always loved to do that. I feel
his lips, brushing over my neck. For a moment...
For a moment I can forget, and my eyes fall closed. In that moment, I see what
could've been our future together, a home and life so happy... so loving it makes
me want to cry with joy. And then I hear Scully's voice, screaming for help over
the phone, before she was whisked away to God-knows-where.
Almost violently, I twist away from him. I know he is momentarily surprised, his
eyes tell me so. I can't weaken, not to this gorgeous green-eyed man who once was
mine. He follows, falling to his knees and placing his hands on my thighs. He
leans his head against my hip, as he has done so many times before, in more
intimate situations.
I can feel my hand moving, and stop it before I can run my fingers through his
soft hair. It was instinctive—a movement familiar from constant repetition, and
denying that natural instinct hurts. But I can't now. Not after what he's done to
me.
Dammit, why? I never prepared for this heartbreak. I told him I loved him,
forever. He told me he loved me, whispered it in my ear. "I love you, Fox," was
the last thing I heard at night, whispered as he lay his head on my chest, and
the first words I heard in the morning when I awoke. Every time he moves, he
reminds me of a hundred times we made love, so tenderly. It was always making
love with him, never just sex. From the beginning, I knew my heart belonged to
him and I told him so. Then I would show him. For over an hour I would love him,
then, as I held him on the brink of orgasm, I would tell him. As we came together
he always looked at me, his green eyes as clear as crystal as his lips shaping my
name I smiled down at him.
I want to cry.
I refuse to in front of him, though his tears are streaming down his face, and
soaking into my jeans.
His proximity to me is starting to have effects. It always did, even when I left
him and ignored him in the beginning. Now, my body calls for him. My Alexei. That
call seems to draw him; his lips brush the material covering my hardness, and his
hand instinctively goes to my fly.
"No!"
He flinches away, his wide eyes staring up at me.
"Fox," is all he says.
"Go. Just leave. You can't just do that and expect it to make everything
better, because it won't."
He stands, defeated and I turn away from him. I know how he moves as he opens the
door, then turns back to me.
"I couldn't let them kill you, Fox. I love you. Please believe that.
And he leaves. The door closes quietly, a silent witness to the most devastating
scene of my life.
And as the door closes on the man I loved, I sink to the floor in silence and
weep. I weep for my shattered dreams of what could have been, what should have
been, and a piece of my heart I would never regain. For his lost innocence. I cry
for my Alexei. For what once was, and what never would be again. My tears fall,
in a torrent that should wash away my hurt but serve only to enhance it.
We are separate, now. We are alone.
He was my partner.
Lover.
Betrayer.
This pain is unbearable.
Part II I'm Still in Love with You Now
I open the front door, gun in hand and aimed at the knocker's face. Alex,
again. He looks like shit—tired, from the look of it bruised, and
world-weariness is evident in his face, and the way he stands.
Yet my treacherous heart leaps on seeing him again.
"What the hell do you want?" I ask him. Damn this man who can't seem to leave
me alone. He's already broken my heart once, why must he do it again? Why?
He looks like something a cat's dragged in. I quickly quell the wave of
emotion I feel on seeing this man—love, lust, anger and rage are all there
in fiery intensity.
"I need someplace to stay. Could I come in?"
I don't lower the gun, though I feel like a fool for holding it on him. I
can't kill him, and he knows that.
"Find a motel. Just get the hell away from me."
It takes everything I have to harden my voice against him. I know that if he
doesn't just leave me alone, let me get on with my life, then it'll all be
over in a matter of minutes.
"Fox, please. I'm broke. I just took a beating from those bastards. And I
can't face another night alone."
His words pull at my heart, and the taunting voice in my mind dares me to
deny him. Reluctantly, I step aside and allow him to enter, ditching my gun
back into its holster. He follows me to the living room.
"Fine. You can take the bed. I sleep on the couch."
I can see it in his eyes, the unspoken accusation. 'You never used to.' He's
right. I didn't, when we were together. But things have changed, and I've
never been able to bring myself to sleep alone in that bed again.
Too many memories.
Too many good memories.
He starts towards the door, slowly—like he's in pain, which he probably is,
and I feel a sudden surge of rage that someone did this to him—he's mine!
They have no right!
From the corner of my eye, I see him stop, and turns.
"Fox?" I look up at him from my place on the couch, pulling myself back from
a brief jaunt down memory lane.
"What?"
"Could you.. stay, with me?" The need in his voice is evident, and he looks
ashamed. Like he knows he has no right to ask me to stay with him.
His eyes remain downcast, and I have to strain to hear his voice.
"I need to hear your heartbeat. It makes me feel safe."
My heart melts at his words. Whoever has turned my Alexei into this beaten,
beautiful, defeated man will pay for what he's done. It's amazing how
protective I feel over him, even after his betrayal of my trust, and my heart.
Wordlessly, I stand and follow him into my room.
I grab a T-shirt and boxers from a drawer, and go to change in the bathroom,
leaving him alone. My petty mind tells me 'He's seen you naked a million
times,' but I don't care. It's different now, and sleeping with him—even
like this with no sex just the feel of him against me is bad enough.
I return, and he's sitting on my bed, on his side, same as he ever did. I get
into the bed and link my fingers behind my head, lying on my back with my
head cradled in my upturned palms. He instantly wraps one arm around me, and
lays his head on the left side of my chest.
Emotionally exhausted, and tired from fighting, I fall asleep.
I awaken to the once familiar feeling of being held. I look up, and into the
face of my beloved, Fox Mulder. His arms are around me now—like we always
used to hold each other, back when we were lovers.
Bright pain and fierce joy overwhelm me for a moment. He looks so peaceful,
and I take a few minutes to burn his image into my mind. I don't know if I'll
ever see him again like this.
My hand rests on his warm flesh, underneath his T-shirt and I stroke him
softly, his skin like velvet beneath my fingers.
On an impulse, I shift slightly to bring my lips to his, clinging softly and
releasing him. I kiss him again, harder this time, and as he begins to wake,
and respond, I become afraid. I pull back.
"Alex."
Tears spring to my eyes, even as I smile with happiness at hearing my name on
his lips again, that soft, soft whisper. It's been so long, and I've missed
him so much I thought I'd die of loving him from afar.
I can tell the moment he recalls everything, and as he begins to speak I
cover his lips with a finger.
"Fox. I love you."
My eyes beg him not to say anything, to let me keep this moment perfect in my
memory—untarnished by words of regret or sorrow. Remembering moments like
this can keep me going for days at a time.
I think he understands, though he stands and heads for the bathroom. Minutes
later I can hear the shower running, and I roll over onto his side to steal
his pillow.
I breathe in his scent, and drift off.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!! What the fuck is wrong with me?
Do I have a need to punish myself for ever loving him? Is that why I can't
just cut him off and move on with my life? Even as I silently rant at myself,
I know why I can't.
I still love him, as much as I ever did. And I want him. Oh, how I need him.
My thoughts drift back to this morning. It was like so many other of our
mornings together. Sometimes we'd get up, after our usual bout of morning
sex, and go running together. Sometimes he'd drag me back into bed for
another hour, until we had to get up to avoid Skinner's 'You're Late And I
Know Why' glare.
My morning erection is back in full force, and I gasp as I take hold of it. I
try to ban all thoughts of him from my mind as I work myself—I have to move
on.
Try as I may, it is his name that screams through my mind as I bite my lip
and spend myself against the shower wall.
Another bout of mental torture for Fox Mulder.
I hear a noise and wake instantly, ready to defend myself from harm. This is
Fox's apartment I'm in, anyway. It's dangerous for me to be here, though last
night was the first time I've felt safe since.. since..
Since the last time he held me like that.
It is Fox, returning from the shower wet and dripping, towel wrapped round
his waist.
God, I want him.
He moves over to his chest of drawers, his back to me as he grabs socks and
boxers.
I can't help myself. God, but he's too tempting and it's been so long.
He stiffens slightly as I wrap my arms around his waist, and brush my lips
over his shoulderblade, along his shoulder and over his neck. I close my
eyes, breathe in his scent and pretend not to notice the way his hands are
gripping the chest so tight his knuckles are turning white. I need him too
much.
I run my hands up over his chest, my fingers brushing lightly over a nipple,
to his shoulders, and rest my head in the crook of his neck, pressing myself
against him. I know he can feel my half erection pressing between his
buttocks.
Do you know what it's like to love someone you can't have? Always wanting,
always needing, always loving and never having . I have loved him like this
for so long I sometimes forget what we once had together, what it was like to
touch and be touched like that.
Perhaps that explains the tear that escapes him. He takes a deep breath to
calm himself, then says the words I dread.
"Alex. No."
Those words were the hardest ones I have ever had to say in my life. To tell
him to stop, that I couldn't do this when what I really want is to be with
him again. I've got better, since our initial separation. At one point, not a
minute went by without me regretting losing him, without thoughts of being
with him entering my head. And worry.
Such fear, that whereever he was, he was dead or worse. Or that he had
forgotten me.
I turn, and walk past him to the bed, keeping my back to him as I pull on a
pair of boxers and wait for his inevitable question.
When it comes, his voice is full of defeat and regret, and wistful longing,
and I know with a dead certainty he doesn't expect me to take him back.
"Fox, why? I love you. We love each other. It was so good between us, Fox—
you know that."
I turn, quickly, and my voice grows fierce as I tell him.
"Because every time I see you, I want to hold you and never let you go. You
fill a part of my soul, Alex, that I didn't know was there until you kissed
me that first time.
When I woke up this morning, I wanted to hold you closer to me. I wanted to
kiss you and make love to you, until I couldn't remember my name. I wanted to
close the door on the outside world and lose myself in you.
I wanted..."
But then I saw Scully's face, heard her voice, and I remembered everything. I
can't see you and not. And it shatters my heart every time.
I can't live like that, Alex. I can't."
His eyes have closed, halfway through my speech as my voice threatens to
crack on every word. But my Alexei doesn't cry, even as I tear away any last
shred of hope for a reconciliation he might've had. He holds back his tears,
and starts to pull on his clothes with a speed born of desperation to be away.
"I know, Fox. I couldn't.. leave, without trying one last time. I have to
leave the country, Fox. Today."
He moves quickly to throw his arms around me, his lips brush over my cheek
and he whispers in my ear.
"I love you, Fox. I'm so, so sorry."
Pasionate, Definite. He opens the bedroom door, and with one last glance back
at me he lowers his eyes.
"You'll never see me again."
The closing of the front door finally ends my relationship with Alexei
Krycek. There is no going back, now or ever, and the certainty of a life
without him hits me full-force.
And I slump to the floor, with my back to the bedroom door as silent tears
spill over and run down my face.
Brokenly, I whisper to the 4 walls what I had wanted to tell him all along.
"I wanted to tell you. I still love you."
Part III Just What you Intend to Do Now
Scully :
I knew as soon as Mulder pulled him out of that truck that we were in trouble.
Big trouble. Alex Krycek, betrayer and murderer. The man Mulder still loves.
He never told me, so much. Not that they were lovers. He'd tell me sometimes when
I called and he wasn't home that he was out with Alex, though he never told me
outright.
I could see it in his eyes, though. His love, and his pain. And I could see that
love and an answering pain in Krycek's eyes when Mulder hit him.
And relief. I thought that strange, at the time—that a man who had spent so
much time trying to stay alive would be relieved at the possibility of dying by
Mulder's hand.
Who said I ever understood men, anyway?
I knew I had to stop him killing Krycek, whatever my personal cost. That's why I
shot him the last time he held a gun on him, flying high on LSD and grief over
his Father's death.
He would've done it. He would've killed Alex, despite how much he loved him. And
hated him. And that would've caused him more pain than ever, when he realised
what he'd done.
So I saved that rat bastard's life. And Mulder's career.
At the cost of a piece of my heart.
Alex :
Let me die, here and now. Mulder, my beautiful Fox wants to kill me. After all
I've done to him, I deserve so much more than a simple death by his hand.
Such a death would be sweet, and painful.
The gods are not smiling on me. He pulls me up, drags me to a quiet room away
from the team to have a few words. In another lifetime, Scully would not be
accompanying us. I know why she is here—I know Mulder never told her outright
about our relationship, and her presence means best behaviour.
I can't say I'm surprised that he doesn't want to talk about us. The last time I
saw him, really saw him, was a few weeks after I betrayed him the first time. It
was the best night of my life, since leaving him. He held me, and I slept with
his heartbeat sounding in my ears and his scent embedded deep in my memory. The
following morning, I foolishly asked him to take me back. To love me again as he
had once before. Needless to say, he said no, and I left him. I fully intended to
leave the country, start a new life some place quiet, try to forget Fox. But
Cancerman and his goons showed up and I was snared again by cigarette smoke and
shadows, and once again hauled back into the madness.
And what did it get me? Possession by an Alien, abandonment in a missile silo, a
new fear of enclosed spaces, and no Fox.
No Fox.
I really have to get used to that.
Alex :
I can remember that journey so well—though it could only have been a couple of
days, at the most. I felt trapped. The deal with Kallenchuk was supposed to get
me some money and time to get away. And that went downhill as soon as I heard
Mulder walk through the door with her. There was no time—no time to collect, no
time to do anything except ensure his safety and leave him with a final look and
a smart-ass comment.
He's still beautiful. I haven't seen him in a long time, but he's still exactly
as I remember. Though if I were allowed to explore, I'd bet I'd find a few more
scars. He drags trouble wherever he goes. On the whole, I shouldn't be surprised
that I ran into him in the middle of Hong Kong. We're connected to each other.
It's like an invisible string running between the two of us. I follow him, and
watch him, and want him all the time. He follows me at the worst of times and
hates me, and punches me whenever he has the chance.
I wasn't naive enough to think it was finished for that time between us, and I
wasn't disappointed. He caught up with me at the airport, punched me, head butted
me and stuck a gun in my chest. He was so close I could feel him pressed against
me, clean and fresh in Armani wool as opposed to my unwashed leather. I couldn't
remember when I'd last had a shower, or a shave. He sent me into the bathroom to
clean up, and I entertained myself momentarily with thoughts of a bathroom tryst.
And the shit hit the fan.
I walked into that bathroom one person and something else walked out wearing my
body. I could see, hear, feel, but I had no control over my actions—It kept me
locked away. I screamed, begged Mulder to recognise that it wasn't me. He loved
me once, he knew me better than anyone else, why didn't he know? I think it was
while I was loosing my mind to that thing that I finally realised the extent of
the rift between us. I had betrayed him, and he'd buried his sweet, innocent Alex
- he saw me as Krycek now. Betrayer, liar, murderer. Prisoner.
I don't know how long I was in the silo for. I thought Mulder was there—he
must've followed me. When he didn't appear, and the sounds faded away and I was
left with silence, I blamed it on my delusional mind.
Needless to say, I got out of there. The next time I met Mulder, my life took a
turn for the worse.
Alex :
And so we end up here. A dirty, cockroach infested Russian gulag. A small dirty
Gulag at that—I could feel panic's hand clench around my throat, swiftly
followed by Mulder's. And all of a sudden, I'd had enough.
"Don't touch me again."
I wanted to throw up. The very notion of him never touching me—even the slaps
and punches that I've come to expect have been contact, painful though they are.
It's Fox. Mulder... I really have to get used to that.
Later, as it grows dark outside and night crawls in, we lay on the floor of the
cell in an attempt to get some sleep. Separately.
Mulder pulls me gently over to him, into his arms and my heart leaps as I go to
kiss him. It's impulse, reflex. Buried in my bones as 'Right'. He turns his face
from me, denying me this, and my heart shatters.
"Shared body heat. It's freezing in here—this is the only way to keep warm."
How stupid of me, to think he could turn to me now. To think I could just be
with him now, just within these stolen moments. Though my head is pillowed on his
shoulder, and his arms hold me tightly to him. I cling to him, almost desperately
as the steady sound of his heartbeat fends off the waves of claustrophobia that
threaten to overwhelm me.
And here, in this dirty, cockroach infested Russian Gulag, in Fox's arms, I feel
at peace for the first time in a long time. I feel at home. Safe. He's asleep.
So I dare to tell him again, to close my eyes and pretend for a moment that it's
all alright. Fantasise that we're at home, in bed, tired from a marathon of
love-making instead of running for our lives through the forest.
"I love you, Fox."
He smiles slightly. I can feel it.
"Go to sleep, Alex."
Everything's gonna be alright.
Three Years Later
Alex :
Time can be the greatest friend and the deadliest enemy to a relationship. It can
strengthen a love to hold when passion dies, or kill in weeks. But for those on
the outside, it doesn't move.
That's where I am now. Sitting outside his window, on the fire escape where
anyone could shoot me, watching him stroke himself. This is what my life has come
to—saving the world in daylight's shadows, and watching him at night. Its
become the highlight of my week, hearing him moan and watching him writhe and
once.. once in a while, he whimpers my name. My name. I try so hard to keep the
Alex he knew alive inside me, to be more than just Krycek the rat bastard with
the moral dipstick two drops short of bone dry. I try, but it's so hard—he's
worth it though. I try to keep Alex safe, inside my soul for him. Because he's so
much more than the cold, calculating bastard that I have to be to survive. I'm
intent. One day, Mulder and I, we'll square things. And it could be the end or a
new beginning but one way or another, we'll finish it.
There is no other alternative.
Fox :
I try hard not to think of him too often—but sometimes it gets too much and I
can't do anything but think about him, and fantasise that he's with me. Sometimes
I think of the one I knew as Alex, about when he'd make love to me so tenderly,
and I want to cry when I come and realise I'm alone. Sometimes it's Krycek, the
personification of all things evil holding me down and forcing me to accept his
touch, making me want it even though I hate him. Today I imagine it's Alex
touching me, that the hand on my cock is his, remember his sweet words of love
that he'd whisper in my ear and it's these dreams and memories that pull his name
from my throat as I come.
Alex Krycek. I can't believe I've separated him into two beings now—the one I
love and the one I hate. Alex, sweet, innocent Alex who deserved nothing but
love, and I sent him away twice after one mistake. And Krycek, my Father's killer
and my personal tormenter. His moments of apparent sincerity when he touches me
hurt more than his cruel betrayals ever could. Once, I almost believed that he
was sorry, and I held him when he told me again that he loved me instead of
pushing him away. I held him close to my heart and tried to forget that we'd
spent the last few years apart and trying to kill each other. He betrayed me
again, leaving me to die in that prison while he made nice with the supervisors
and once again I hurt because of him. But he paid a price, more painful, and
final than I ever could've extracted from him.
I know he watches me. God, I know everything about the way he looks, the way he
moves. I couldn't miss him if I tried, and a part of my mind wants him to
approach me, so I can feel him again, touch him. A crueller voice in the back of
my head whispers how it's justified, he screwed up and can never touch me again.
Serve him right to love me still, and follow me for the rest of his life.
And I'm too tired to care when the window opens. Too tired to get my gun and
shoot them, too tired to do anything but lay here and miss him and wish a
thousand times over it could've been different. Too tired to fight him as he
climbs in and watches me, green eyes gleaming from the shadows.
Alex :
I surprised him. I still have it in me to surprise the great Fox Mulder—I did
it once before, when I kissed his cheek. I hadn't even intended to, but he knows
what he does to me when he pouts, and he was that night. So I kissed him He's
flushing! God but he looks adorable when he does that, though it's understandable
considering I just broke in on him when he's literally just cried my name as he
came over his hand.
"Hello, Fox."
He's still shaken from his orgasm—they're always intense when he's thinking of
me, and he's always painful to watch then.
"Al.. Krycek. Why are you here?"
I don't want to talk, just yet. I just want to watch, and take care of him. I
don't want to tell him that I can't be with him now, and I know he wants it but
would never let himself just be. I put my finger to my lips to quiet his
questions, and amazingly it's enough.
"Shhh."
And I walk, over to his bed and sit down, my back to him. I lean down and take
off my boots, shrug out of my jacket and drop it on the floor beside me. Turning
around, I sit up next to him, my feet resting on the bed by his legs.
"It's been a long time since I've heard you moan my name like that. I've missed
it. I've missed you, but I think you already know that."
I can't look at him for fear of what I'll see in his eyes—distrust, lingering
passion, fear of what I'll tell him? What I'll do?
"I'm not going to ask you to take me back again. Not that I don't want you, but I
have other things that must be done at the moment. The fate of humanity is more
important than our love for each other."
"I don't.."
He tried to interrupt me, and I cut him off with a look.
"Shh, Fox. I know you do, and telling me otherwise isn't going to convince me."
I take his hand, and amazingly he doesn't object as I lift it to my lips and
clean off the residue of his orgasm, and I'm damned if he doesn't taste exactly
as I remember. His eyes fall closed—with denial, or pleasure I don't know,
though when I'm nearly finished he seems to wake, and he draws his hand away.
Wordlessly, I stand and drag myself away from him, heading for the bathroom. I
return with a cloth, soaked in warm water and squeezed of the excess, and hand it
to him. For a few moments I stand, and enjoy watching him trying to hide himself
and clean his groin at the same time, then I drop by his left side. I love this
bed. One day, I can see us making love on it, and I can imagine the water moving
as he moves inside me. I stare up into the mirror suspended above us, fantasise
about doing the same when he's covering me. One day, when all this is over£ę
Reality calls with the sound of a wet towel hitting a champagne bucket.
I take his hand, just stroking the skin, expecting him to pull it away any
second. When he doesn't I'm surprised.
"You drive them crazy, Fox. You show up at the most annoying times for them, and
they can't figure you out. You're relentless, and they've tried everything
possible except killing you to stop you. Though they'd never kill you outright.
In your own way, you're much too valuable to destroy. There is a way, to combat
the black oil and consequently the coming invasion. A vaccine—you were injected
with it in Tunguska. You used it to save Scully's life. When the man who gave you
that vaccine died, he left me with information regarding factories, production
lines, science labs, all concentrating on boosting its effectiveness. With that
work nearly complete, we'll be able to destroy them once and for all. I can't
tell you everything now. I may never be able to—I just pray we survive, Fox,
because one day we'll be here once again and it'll be time to finish this."
I sigh, smile slightly as I look down at our joined hands. My voice grows softer
as I continue.
"We're connected, you and I. You must know that by now. It's destiny, Mulder—we
can fight the aliens, we can fight each other, but we can't fight fate. Lord
knows I've tried. I've tried to get over you, away from you and I know you've
tried too, but we always end up together again and we always end up hurting.
Someday, Fox. Someday it has to end, and I hope we'll survive when it does."
I finished my piece. There was anything more I could tell him, that he'd believe.
So now the time is here once again and I have to leave him, and this time I'm
leaving him and he hasn't sent me away or had me arrested. I have to take that
as a good sign. I think he's finally started coming to terms with us, our
inevitable relationship.
I know. I've always known that I was meant for him; I always knew it wasn't over.
It was hard to maintain that feeling when he rejected me over and over, but I
knew. I knew that night he let me into his arms again for one night in Tunguska.
I knew I'd be his again some day.
So I bring his hand to my lips and kiss it gently, closing my eyes as I do so.
Then I place it back in his lap, thumb of my right hand stroking his skin and I
stand, walking around the bed to the window.
And I stop at the sound of his voice.
"Alex?"
I turn, powerless, though I know I should leave him, just keep on walking until
the end is here and we can finish our bizarre tangle. What I see surprises me.
His eyes, usually clouded over, are so expressive—I see longing, and desire,
and pain, and he just looks at me. Really looks, and the seconds go by so slowly.
"Come here," he whispers, and I'm drawn in by his eyes. I find myself moving to
stand by his side, my eyes never leaving his..
Fox :
I don't know what I'm doing, as he stands before me. I only know what I'm doing
is inexplicably right, and that I've gone too far to go back now.
So he stands by the bedside, and I push myself up to turn and kneel before him.
The sheet and towel that covered me are gone now, and I slide my arms up and
around his neck. Kneeling up, I gently take his head in my hands, and pull him
forward into a kiss so sweet I want to cry, for all the time we've lost. Instead
I press against him, gasping as my hips meet his and the feel of cool leather
meets my rapidly swelling cock.
I always loved him in leather pants.
His arm comes around me, pulling me closer still and I gasp again into his mouth
as he possesses me. His right hand moves lower to cup my buttock, the left gently
holding my side.
As quickly as it began it is over, his mouth releasing mine with a soft sigh, and
he leans forward, his forehead touching mine. He smiles, his eyes closed and
whispers
"Until next time, my Fox."
Next time.
His Fox.
And he's gone.
An End
Go Now
by Tirinar
Part I
