by Josan
The weather was still hot from the midday sun and
Krycek lay sprawled on the bed uncovered.
Skinner smiled. Even now, he felt attracted to that
body, spread out as it was as if waiting to be judged.
It was thicker than it had been when they had first
gotten together. Krycek was eating on a regular basis
these days, but then, he seemed perpetually hungry.
Now he could tease him about it, about how he had
worried about coming home one night and finding his
leather furniture half devoured.
And he'd been hungry for more than food back then.
Hungry for kindness. Hungry for gentleness. Hungry
for love. And terrified that his hunger would be used
against him.
Skinner remembered the mornings when Krycek awoke, eyes
wary, waiting to be rejected. When his need for touch
was overwhelmed by his expectation of pain. He would
freeze the first time Skinner reached out for him that
day, slowly accepting his touch until by night he was
almost melting between his hands.
And so hesitant at reaching out himself. Almost as if
he expected Skinner to disappear in a puff of smoke.
Or to throw him out if he didn't please Skinner enough.
The first time they'd had a fight, Skinner hadn't
immediately understood why Krycek had begun packing his
knapsack. When it dawned on him that the man was
leaving before he was told to leave, he'd gently taken
the knapsack out of Krycek's hands, pushed him down
onto the bed and made love to him until he didn't have
enough energy to even consider moving off the bed.
He'd kept him there for the next couple of days as well
until Krycek had finally accepted that there would be
bad days among the good. And that it was okay.
Of course that was then. Now, Krycek gave as good as
he got. The man had an incredibly long fuse, but when
he blew... Skinner grinned... when he blew, it was
spectacular. Like fireworks. And, like fireworks,
quickly over.
As he watched, Krycek moved, stretching his arm up and
over his head, twisting his body in that long pull that
always went straight to Skinner's groin.
Krycek accompanied his move with a throated groan/purr.
"You're looking at me again."
Skinner moved away from the door and came up to the
bed. "So sue me. I like looking at you."
Krycek partially opened his eyes, "I thought you said
it was too hot for anything strenuous."
"It is. But this is just foreplay. I can indulge in
that no matter what the temperature is." Skinner sat
down next to his lover, smoothed back the thick sweat-
dampened hair. Once so dark, now salt and peppered.
More salt than pepper. Well, that was to be expected:
his own narrower fringe was white.
Krycek's hand came up, fingers combing the light grey
patch on his chest. Skinner knew it would soon drop to
caress the darker patch at his loins. Krycek
occasionally teased him about the snow on the roof
hiding the fire in the furnace.
"What do you want to do this afternoon?" Krycek tried
hard to look very innocent as he asked that. Skinner
grinned, bent and placed a kiss next to Krycek's navel.
He let his tongue dip in and around the indentation:
Krycek was not the only one who could tease.
"We could go sight-seeing. Shame to be this close to
George Town and not visit it."
"Too hot," said Krycek after thinking about the
suggestion.
"We could get in some more scuba diving. There are
still parts of the reef we haven't explored."
"More fun in the morning, before the sun's high."
Krycek moved his hips so that Skinner's mouth would
have access to the sensitive skin where torso met
thigh.
"Body surfing?" Skinner looked up to find green eyes
peering at him from under those thick eyelashes. A
hint of a smile was playing over the mouth that was his
alone.
He loved seeing Krycek, water beading over his oiled
body, that body slightly tilted to compensate for the
lost arm, riding the top of a wave. And laughing. For
some reason, water liberated Krycek of his restraints,
allowed him to abandon his self-control. There was
nothing more beautiful, thought Skinner, than Krycek,
standing in water to his waist, head thrown back to the
sun, joyously laughing.
Krycek's hand had begun playing with Skinner's cock,
holding it, lightly stroking it. "How about if we just
go for a walk along the beach?" he countered.
"So you can check out the beach boys?" Skinner's tone
was light, but Krycek knew that Skinner had his moments
when he thought he was going to be replaced with a
younger model. Not that there was even a remote chance
of that happening. But somehow it evened out the
insecurities Krycek had, would probably always have,
about this relationship of theirs.
"Actually," Krycek slid down so that his mouth was by
Skinner's hip, "I noticed that yesterday they seemed
more interested in checking you out."
Skinner snorted. Krycek raised himself slightly, let
his head rest on Skinner's thigh. "You don't believe
me?"
"Alex. I'm almost seventy years old: eighteen year
old boys don't look at men of my age."
"They look. Just remember that they can't touch." His
voice was very insistent on that.
Skinner looked at the face watching him. Twenty years
together and they were still proprietorial with each
other. He placed his hands on either side of his
partner's face, pulled gently up for his kiss.
"Yes, love," he whispered.
George Town, capital of the Cayman Islands.
kinner rested his shoulder against the door frame and
watched his lover sleeping on the bed.
