by Raven
t wasn't often that Alex Krycek got caught sleeping. Even
more rare were the times he got caught napping on the
couch, failing to rouse instantly at the sound of a quiet
door opening.
This was one of those times, and Walter paused in the small entryway to soak up the sight. His lover had obviously been reading, the Mary Stuart novel lay where it had fallen, still open but propped against Alex's side. That a shower had occurred prior to reading was evidenced by the towel spread under the dark waves, meant to protect the couch from freshly washed and still damp hair.
It was a wise precaution, the couch was a sinfully soft black leather which had cost the earth. And worth every penny if only for the way it completed the picture Alex was currently making.
Alex lay sprawled on his back, mouth slightly parted, lashes making their usual charcoal smudge against the fair skin. His arm was thrown over his head, hand palm up. The thick black leather of Alex's watch band made it seem as though it had been loosely cuffed in place, a thought that added to the heat of Walter's thoughts.
The fact that Alex was wearing the robe Walter had bought him for his birthday didn't hurt either.
It was a heavy dark emerald silk, the Chinese character for eternity woven into it repeatedly in the same shimmering shade. It was open almost to the waist, and Walter eyed the smooth expanse of lean muscle appreciatively. A nipple the color of coffee with cream was barely revealed, and Walter felt his mouth water.
His eyes traveled lower, past the soft knot of the tie at the trim waist, to the enticing swell nestled between solid thighs that were slightly parted. Strong calves, lean ankles and trim feet completed the picture, and just as Walter raised his eyes to begin the return trip, Alex stirred.
He gave a quiet little breathy sound. It could have been a sigh, but Alex was so careful with those, Walter was never sure when he'd heard one or not. A pink tongue tip briefly flashed, licking across full lips, and the legs moved just a bit. Walter thought they looked as though they'd been parted by a lover's knee, and he almost groaned as he pictured himself doing just that.
No matter how many times they made love, there was always a moment, just as Walter moved into the welcoming but hard embrace of those legs, when everything paused.
Alex would be under him, sometimes sleepy, sometimes urgently demanding, sometimes a place in-between. Those green eyes would be darkened impossibly, the lips forced to deep rose by kisses, the neck beckoning with each swallow. Walter would be poised, flushed, heavy with need, feeling the warm intimacy that was always present in their sex, regardless of how down or how dirty. He would lower his hips the fraction needed, would begin to press himself into that delicious heat.
And stop. Just for the briefest of moments, the smallest of hesitations, Walter would freeze, as he realized all over again exactly who this was. His lover, yes, his beloved, eternally yes, but more.
This man lying under him was Alex Krycek. This man was danger with a choir boy's face, death with eyes of coldest fire, a secret hidden in the inner pocket of a trashed leather jacket.
Assassin, agent, angel of darkest dreams, no small collection of words could sum up this man, what he had been. What he still was, despite the application or removal of influence. He was what he was, could never be anything less, though he was always somehow more.
And he was giving himself to Walter. Not because he had to, Alex had made that very plain from the beginning, but because he wanted to do so. Alex gave himself so simply and easily, because he loved with great difficulty. Real sex happens in the mind, and that was never more true than for Alex.
His body he could give without thought, that wasn't what stopped Walter, wasn't what moved him to perfect stillness each and every time. It wasn't the dangerous power coiled around him, the muscles waiting under him, for him. No, it was the fact that every single time, without fail, Walter would see the shimmer of tears ghost over the green.
Tears of happiness, tears of regret, tears of frustration and release. They never fell, they were never mentioned, but they were always, always there.
And Walter would be unable to breathe for being humbled, would feel his heart swell and threaten to burst with gratitude. This was Alex's gift to him, this was Alex's love made physical.
It was the only time and place that Alex willingly allowed himself the luxury of pure emotion, of feeling without purpose or thought. The only time he was ever so truly naked, no shields, no masks, no held words or thoughts unspoken. Nothing, but honest emotion too deep for Alex to hold without trying, and too precious for him to try.
And then Walter would know again that this man's soul, every deep scar and surface shimmer, belonged to him completely, now and forever. Walter knew it in a way he didn't even know his own soul, was more sure of it than of the sun rising on the morrow.
Unable to move before, unable to not move after, Walter would join their flesh, enter this man like another dimension, and do his best to match fire for fire, soul for soul, tear for tear.
It wasn't the only time Walter would see him cry. There were nights spent holding a sobbing Alex and rocking him like a child, praying the medicine would work one more time, and ease the horrible pain in an arm not altogether there.
There was a spot under Alex's left knee cap, that if approached correctly, would tickle until tears flowed and breath was lost.
There were times when love led to discipline, and Walter would draw a fearless, yet quaking young man across his knee, spanking until Alex decided justice had been met. There would frequently be tears rolling down the flushed face, lips trembling as Alex waited patiently for Walter to accept his contrition.
But at no other time would Walter see that damp sparkle without a physical catalyst. Only then, only for him. Only for love.
And now, Walter was roused from his musings by the realization that he was no longer staring, but being stared at. That strong white teeth were visible between lips that had parted in a welcoming smile. That Alex's eyes were beginning to darken, and that a calloused yet gentle hand was reaching out to him, bidding him closer.
"I love you." Walter said it without thinking, let the moment surround him like a bubble and carry him where it would.
"I know."
Alex drew him down, taking Walter's weight easily and gladly, thighs parting to settle his lover more comfortably. He cupped the back of Walter's head, guiding it down for a slow, sweet kiss that almost hurt. He didn't say the words back, Walter knew he wouldn't. They meant nothing to him, hadn't for a very long time. But Walter didn't need to hear them. As lean fingers skillfully began to unbutton his shirt, Walter knew that very soon, Alex would tell him with the quicksilver flash of water over green fire.
THE END.
