by Ursula
A hated voice interrupted his musing. Spender remarked, "Mr. Skinner, I have
an errand for you to run. I have some property in Tunisia that needs looking
into." On one hand, Mulder and Scully...and on the other, that withered
throat in his hand, crushing strength finishing the smoke-scarred passages.
Mulder and Scully win one more time. He loved them. Hell, yes, he did. He
was a leader of men, but no one makes the sacrifices he made without caring
passionately for the people involved. He loved his agents with the fierce
protective fury of a chieftain for his clan.
"What kind of property?" Walter asked, dreading some new horror, some
experiment to haunt his nights.
"Valuable property that I admit to having some difficulty in managing on my
own. You have a heavy hand at times, Skinner. I think you have the touch
that is required in this instance. You will find tickets, passports, and an
approved request for vacation time on your desk this Friday."
The airports shrank as he went deeper into the Middle East, but the warnings
for Americans traveling grew to compensate. Interestingly enough, Tunisia
was like a sane oasis, bordered by Libya which was rated as extremely unsafe
and Algeria which ought to be an Arabic word for terrorist. Tunisia
represented an Islamic environment that still had heavy ties to Europe and
the United States. It was very exotic yet European enough to offer Western
comforts. Perhaps that was why the Consortium did so much of their dirty
work here. Walter stepped out into the throng of people, as varied and
multilingual as he had ever seen in any American city. He grimaced as he
remembered who had sent him here and wondered which part of his soul he had
to offer in trade this time.
The taxi was old that brought him to the hotel; its frame rattled and shook.
The engine wheezed asthmatically. It was both a surprise and a relief to
arrive at the hotel. It was an aged European-style building very attractive,
decorated with aged rust colored stones and wheat colored colonnades. The
staff was omnipresent, eager to serve, which was a nice contrast to what he
was used to in the mid-priced hotels that were his usual fare.
The bed was large. The color scheme was not what he was used to. Roses and
teals seemed odd when you were used to the more neutral colors that American
decorators used. He noticed the sybaritic air of everything but the
plumbing. The water pressure was very low and the water was faintly rust in
color. He thought it would be wise to rinse and brush his teeth only with
bottled water. Other than that, it was almost decadently lovely and
comfortable.
Waking from a brief nap, Walter groggily met a uniformed bellhop who offered
him a letter on a tray. Tipping the man, Walter took the note and sat in an
armchair to read. He found a large supply of local currency and the
instruction to "Go shopping. Enjoy yourself. Package will be delivered
tonight with instructions."
Frowning, Walter crumpled the note. He hated being treated as a lackey but,
as long as the nanobytes were active, he was stuck with the occasional odd
errand for Spender. The man knew better than to ask him for anything that
really would have troubled Walter's rather flexible conscience. Spender and
Walter were both mature men with a strongly realistic bent on life. Of
course, Spender was an amoral and sadistic son of a bitch whereas Walter
considered himself a man who compromised only when necessary to save his own
ass or his agents. He just hoped that Spender was pushing the envelope this
time. The man took a childish pleasure in being misleading and enigmatic.
It was a wonder one of his employees had not shot him by now.
Shrugging, Walter decided to take the man's advice. The crowded and narrow
streets thronged with beggars and peddlers. It was cleaner than some of the
other Middle East cities that he had visited; but then again, cleaner was a
relative term.
Walter still had a habit of walking either right in the lee of a building or
close to the curb. In Vietnam, some of the locals emptied their slop
buckets right into the street from upper story windows.
The marketplace was almost overwhelming, but Walter picked out gifts, silk
for Dana and her mother, a wooden paperweight with incredibly complex
carvings hollowing it into a maze of abstract designs. Exotic perfumes
occupied an entire section. He shopped for his sisters and his mother,
piling up so many of the inexpensive, but lovely scented items that he ended
up hiring a porter. He went back to the hotel to drop off his purchases, had
lunch, and did a little sight seeing. Hell, it was Spender's money, but his
vacation time so he may as well act like a tourist.
Another courier brought a second envelope. This held medical records and
pre-loaded syringes, which apparently were vitamin shots. Spender had some
poor luckless bastard imprisoned here in this land where the Consortium held
too many interests to be ignored. Apparently despite the ignominious
imprisonment, Spender wanted his captive relatively healthy. Walter half
expected some man in an iron mask to be delivered to his door. He settled
down to read the record, looking for a clue to the identity but before he
was half down the page, someone was knocking loudly.
Grunting porters carried in a bulky roll of carpet. As Walter curiously
watched, the sweating men set the wildly patterned wool down and unraveled
it on the floor. The showmanship revealed a thinly beautiful male
body...totally naked. Green eyes gazed up at him and a husky voice uttered,
"Oh, fuck!"
A moment later, Walter roared, "You son of a bitch!"
Pulling the man to his feet by virtue of grabbing his hair, Walter was half
way to the door to throw him out before caution reasserted itself. Releasing
Krycek in a bruised heap, he begrudgingly paid the impassively waiting
porters and followed them out. Not much to his surprise, there were guards
posted now outside his door. Walter nodded in resigned bitterness and
returned to the room. Krycek had scuttled to a corner, holding the luggage
stand up as a defensive weapon.
Snorting, Walter said, "Put that down and sit quietly in the chair."
Surprisingly, Krycek had not tried for the window. He tossed his head in
characteristic fashion and obeyed Walter's command. Walter carefully read
the report and grimaced. From the recent blood tests, Spender intended
Walter reinforce his control of the man by the most primitive methods. What
made the man think that he was willing to rape for him?
Impotent dick-wad that the man was, he couldn't even handle that himself.
"Come here, I'm supposed to give you these vitamin shots," Walter said.
Padding across the room, Krycek was unconsciously seductive, his movements
holding heedless grace. His eyes were adverted and his one arm tensing into
a fist at his side. Walter kept him waiting while he read the directions
again. It seemed simple enough. He ripped the alcohol swab open and Krycek
presented his arm. "No, not there, turn around and lean on the bed."
The ass was still smooth and satiny. Walter briskly cleaned a patch of skin
before jabbing in the needle and depressing the plunger. Krycek caught his
breath and muttered, "Fuck" again.
Amused, Walter let his hand rest on the round curve of the cheek. Krycek
tensed, glanced at him, and then let his shoulder's slump. He spread his
legs submissively, leaning more of his weight into the bed. Walter felt his
cock stir at the sight. Damn tempting, but...
"Relax. You can stand up," Walter said in a gentler tone than he meant to
use.
Another brief glance and Krycek said, "Thank you."
Walter refused to acknowledge the gratitude or what Krycek meant by it.
He didn't want him.
Liar!
Well, he certainly didn't want to have him by force anyway. Shortly a
strongly tactile memory of the touch of skin, hot, sweat-damp, smooth, and
silken over firm flesh and hard muscle overwhelmed Walter. Alex had a body
designed to be taken, worshiped, conquered, and tasted. Walter had that
willingly and had no wish to ruin the sensual memory.
Stomach growling, Walter realized it was time for dinner. He had been
undecided as the whether to call for room service; he was foot-sore from
shopping and sightseeing. Now, he supposed he could go out and leave Krycek
sitting in the chair to starve. However, that was petty and he wasn't a
petty man.
Picking up the phone, he ordered almost randomly, not bothering to ask
Krycek his preferences. Beggars can't be choosers he rationalized. Putting
the phone back on the hook, Walter walked over to the man and growled, "Go
take a shower. You smell like pesticide."
Getting up, Krycek said, "Well, it's better than what you would have gotten
without the spray. I was crawling. You're lucky to have a shower once a
month in there."
"What did you do to piss Spender off this time? You seem to have a talent
for it, you know."
"I failed to kill someone he ordered killed," Alex replied.
"Mulder?" Walter asked; he'd always suspected that Krycek a yearning for his
former partner.
Eyes turning away, followed by minute headshake seemed to negate his
assumption without any real answers. Alex went into the bathroom, came out
immediately, and said, "There's no soap."
"Take this," Walter said, reaching into the bag for a small basket of
exotically scented items. He had his own toiletries, but it amused him to
provide Krycek only with these exotic products.
Krycek's eyes flickered and he smirked. "I'm gonna smell good, I guess," but
he took the items and went into the bathroom.
"Leave the door open," Walter said, "I want to hear what you're up to."
"What you think I'm going to flush myself down the toilet and escape?"
Krycek jibed.
"Isn't the sewer your natural habitat?" Walter asked.
"You thought I was good enough to make love to at one point," Krycek shot
back. He winced at his own words and corrected, "to fuck, I mean."
'Did he mean 'fuck'?' Walter mused.
Krycek had said make love as if he had meant precisely that. Sitting back in
his chair, Walter folded his arms over his chest and pondered the mysteries
of Alex Krycek.
He came out smelling of Myrrh, Tunisian myrrh, a fuller deeper scent than
the Egyptian version. Or at least so the salesman had said. His skin was
still beaded with water. His damp hair was the color of onyx; all hint of
lighter brown vanished into dark radiant shades. His face glowed with the
force of his absolutions, faintly rosy now beneath the marble. The towel was
wrapped around his waist, a knot keeping the improvised sarong in place.
Walter stood up and fingered the loose tie. Krycek made no protest, just
closed his eyes, faintly moving as if swaying to some unheard music.
Walter cupped the elegant head with one hand and tilted up the delicate chin
with the other. Krycek's kiss was opium, exotic, addictive, and quite
possibly deadly. A faint eager sound fluttered against Walter's lips. Krycek
moaned again and drew Walter's hand down to firmly press against his ass. He
strained against Walter's worn denim jeans, his body still damp from the
shower felt like a liquid heat through the thin tee shirt Walter wore. One
leg snaked up to press Krycek's groin tighter against Walter's. The man
pressed urgently forward, his hand delving for Walter's zipper.
Only the repeated knock on the door penetrated the madness. Walter stepped
back, put out a restraining hand to stop Krycek from following and said,
"Later, that's dinner."
"I want you," Krycek said. "Now, I need..."
"Is this about what you need then, Alex?" Walter said, letting his mouth
taste the name of his lost lover. It was bittersweet on his tongue. One
reproachful look and then Alex hid it all away again.
Handing Krycek his robe to put on over the towel, Walter went to the door to
let the waiter in. The serving cart was loaded with trays and chafing
dishes. The waiter, a small, smiling man chatted away, stealing glances at
Krycek the entire time he served the meal. Walter tolerated it briefly, but
scowled at him and blocked his view of the sparsely clothed man with his own
formidable body.
After Walter almost pushed the waiter out the door, Alex approached the
table. His lean ribs and glistening eyes betrayed that his thoughts were no
longer on sex. A more basic drive had intervened. Walter quickly dashed
Alex's hand away and said, "No, you don't touch this food."
An anxious look greeted this statement. Then Alex drew his bitter mask over
it. He said, "Hope you never have a dog, Skinner."
"Don't walk away from me, Alex," Walter said, grabbing the sleeve of the
robe. In a moment, he stripped Alex of the garment and even robbed him of
the towel. Chest heaving, Krycek looked wild and passionate although he
probably was only angry and frightened.
Another kiss, brutal and demanding. Krycek's mouth was red, ripe when Walter
pulled away. Walter grabbed his neck and marched him to the table. He sat
down and brought Krycek to his knees in front of him. "Now, that's how I
like you. Do you have any idea how pretty you look like this? Scared, angry,
and on your knees?"
There was no answer just a flicker of the eyes then Krycek asked, "You want
me to blow you? Is that what this is? I do it and then I get some food?"
"Blowing might be on the agenda later, but not now," Walter said, "You want
to be my pet, Alex? Is that what you were saying about the dog?"
"What's this?" Walter asked, picking up what looked like a fried pastry, "A
dessert?"
"It's brik. It's good. There's meat inside and egg. Spicy. Tunisian food is
spicy," Alex said.
"Hmm, well, let's see," Walter said, holding the golden brown substance to
Alex's mouth.
Leaning into Walter's legs, Alex opened wide and took a big bite. Egg and
sauces spilled down his chin. Walter went after that, licking greedily at
the now highly spiced skin. "Damn, that is good," Walter said, offering
another bite. He met Alex's lips as he shared the pastry. They shared the
dish in silence before moving on to the next serving, which looked a bit
like an omelet with a wild mix of ingredients.
"This one," Walter asked, waiting for Alex to finish the bite he had placed
in his mouth.
"Chakchouka...that's chickpeas, eggs, peppers, onions, and garlic," Alex
replied, pointed to a stew, he added, "That's Guenaoia, lamb stew with okra
and peppers. It's better than it sounds."
"Smells good although I've never like okra. Wonder what we are going to
taste like after eating all of these spices and peppers?" Walter asked.
"Hot, I guess," Alex said, "I can't eat very much more. I've been on bread
and water for a week."
"You were a bad boy even here?" Walter asked.
"My protector got iced. I had to turn down an offer violently until I found
another to my taste," Alex replied.
"You that easy that you can find two dates to your satisfaction inside a
Tunisian prison? I guess I'm not very flattered."
"My protector was a huge, powerful man...an eunuch, Walter, due to a knife
fight. He didn't do anything to me, just touched me. He was very gentle; I
liked him. I killed the men who got him. I'm probably going to have do more
with the new one, but I can't watch my back in there all the time. You did
notice that I'm a little inconvenienced," Alex said, shrugging his left
shoulder. He sat back on his heels and then calmly and deliberately laid his
face against the inside of Walter's thigh.
After a moment, Walter couldn't but help to stroke the silken hair, massage
the nape of the neck that was offered to him like a sacrifice. He lifted
Alex's head with a gentle hand and said, "Have a few bites of the stew. We
can save the desserts for later."
His once and future lover was so thin that even the small amount of food
he'd eaten was a visible lump in his abdomen. They lay down on the bed;
Alex' s ass nestled against his groin. He was silk, velvet, and satin still,
a tactile feast. Walter lingered over his exploration, caressing the sharp
jut of the hips, stroking the hollows of his pelvis.
Alex turned around, offering his lips again, the tang of the spices vibrant
in his mouth. He was like a feast and Walter wanted to consume him utterly.
Just take him inside and never let him go. However, unless he wanted a
totally passive partner, he was out of luck. Alex had tucked his head into
the curve of Walter's shoulder and fallen asleep, open-mouthed and even
drooling a little.
Just great, Walter thought. Bad enough to have a soporific effect on young
agents...now, he was serving as a soothing bedtime aperitif for double
agents and former lovers. Being a practical man, Walter sighed, adjusted the
man's weight to be slightly more comfortable and went to sleep.
Waking, Walter was aware of noise in the room. He watched Alex carrying the
remainder of the dishes to the door, leaving only the mint sprigged dish of
desserts. Alex yawned and stretched, sighed as he idly sauntered to the
tousled bed. Walter kept an eye on his former lover, embarrassed that he'd
let the man get up from the bed without waking him. Alex settled next to
him, gently brushing Walter's face with his fingertips.
"I know you're awake," Alex said, "I'm sorry that I fell asleep. Please, I
know that we don't have a lot of time. I want you. I know you think I was
just using you, but I wasn't. The way things work; I don't have any choice.
I can't tell you what they have over me, but it means as much to me as
Mulder and Scully mean to you."
"Well, I hope it's valuable; worth the hell that you've put me through,"
Walter raged. He stood up and said, "I'm going to take a shower and when I
come out, I'm going to fuck you."
Watching Alex's face, Walter felt a grim satisfaction as he saw the flicker
of pain shadow the face before the mask came back. Let him suffer even if it
hurt Walter just as much to hurt him.
The light was golden across Alex's back. He had arranged himself on his
stomach, legs spread, the scarred remains of his arm hidden beneath the
pillows. Condoms and a tube of lube that Walter had found in his luggage had
been left lined up on the bed. Walter sat next to Alex, caressing the line
of his back. His strokes gradually moved downward until his hand rested for
a moment on Alex's ass. He took the lid from the lube and noted that some of
it was already missing.
"Didn't trust me to get you ready? I'm not stupid. Even if I wanted to get
my kicks out of hurting you, I don't enjoy bruising my dick in a dry hole,"
Walter remarked.
A glint of green eye peered at him before Alex turned away again.
Whispering, Walter said, "I bet Spender thought that I would do it that way,
rough, hurting you, humiliating you. But I think I can give you more pain if
I'm gentle, if I remind you of what it could have been like if..."
"If I let them kill us both and all the people we care about?" Alex
demanded, "Is that what I should have done?"
His voice crackled with anger. Funny, you could beat the man, bloody him,
and the worst you get is one of his looks, his kicked puppy looks that make
no sense with what Walter knew of the man. But every once in a while,
something got beneath his skin, beneath the wall he carried around him and
he'd show something else, someone else, someone who felt they had a right to
be listened to, and treated like any other soldier.
To hell with it. To hell with Spender and Mulder and, even with Scully,
Walter knew what he wanted and how he wanted it. He slid into the bed and
captured Alex in his arms, rolling over to frame him with his massive arms.
"You are still the most beautiful man I have ever seen," Walter remarked.
A small smile flickered across Alex's lips. He said, "Crippled and scarred
like this? Yeah, right."
"This isn't flawed," Walter said, nibbling on Alex's neck, traveling upwards
to the tiny, precise whorl of his ear. He suckled on the tender lobe, before
pausing, looking down at the beauty of the face. His lips traveled to the
soft lip, brushing over the yielding mouth, teasing him until Alex reached
up and pulled him down to kiss him with all the passion in his soul.
'You are doing it again, making me love you.' Walter thought. 'I must be
insane to let this happen. Whom gods seek to destroy they first make
mad...and I am insane, madly in love with Alex Krycek.'
The words he couldn't let himself say were whispered against his lips. Alex
said, "I love you, Walter."
"Don't lie to me," Walter said, "Not about that."
"We do what we have to do, but no more than that. Please, Walter, don't do
this for him. Do this for us," Alex begged.
"You're just saying that because you're afraid that I'm going to hurt you,"
Walter replied. He let his hand trail down to rest on Alex's cock, feeling
it stir at his touch.
Making a decision, he squeezed more lube onto his fingers and slid Alex's
legs up over his shoulders, propping him higher with pillows. "I want to
make this last so get comfortable," he said. "God, that stuff smells good on
you. I was going to give it to Scully, but I think I'll keep it for you."
Taking a quick breath as Walter wiggled a finger inside him, Alex said,
"Walter, maybe if you'd cooperate, Spender would give me to you. You
could..."
A hitch in Alex's breath said that Walter's questing had found the right
angle. "You like that, don't you?" Walter teased gently.
"Yeah," Alex agreed, "But listen to me, Walter. All you would have to do is
play the game a little easier. I don't do what they say all the time. I just
make like I'm going to and slip away. Most of the time..."
"Got caught this time unless a prison in Tunisia is your idea of a good
vacation," Walter chided as he pushed another finger inside. Alex was tight.
He wasn't lying about whoever his protector was; he wasn't having this kind
of sex at least.
"No, you're right. I was caught, but he'll bring me back when he finds a job
he thinks only I can do. Screwing with Mulder's head some more, probably,"
Alex replied.
A full body shudder, a wince marked Walter's slow entry. He paused to guide
himself inside, ease back the tightness of Alex's hole. Both of them groaned
as most of Walter's cock slid into Alex.
Alex exhaled and pushed back, relaxing to allow Walter to begin the slow
thrusts, which claimed him, inflamed him, and made him surrender himself to
the moment. Gasping he asked, "Why do I love this so much? Always hurts a
little, but nothing else makes me feel so alive. I do love you, Walter."
At that moment, Walter had nothing to say. His entire being was focused on
the pleasure of moving on top of, inside of Alex. The panting and the moans
were a primitive music in his ears. He could have sworn he heard their
heartbeats thundering in unison. He moved his hand in time with his thrusts,
feeling the throbbing pulse of Alex's cock and then the heated flesh
shuddering as Alex's eyes rolled back and he arched, hips jerking rapidly as
he gave it up to his lover. Walter's eyes closed as he rapidly moved to his
own completion. A ragged gasp and only the afterglow of pleasure was left.
Removing the condom, Walter found the washcloth that Alex had used, still
smelling of the myrrh. Staggered back to the bed, he cleaned them both,
pulled Alex firmly to spoon against him. He kissed the back of Alex's neck,
put an arm around him, and they slept.
It was two days before they really went out for more than a meal before
returning to the oft-ravaged bed. They went for a walk in the city, looking
at some of the mosques, returning to the market although Alex wouldn't let
Walter buy him anything except some sweets.
"Can't keep anything when you send me back," Alex explained.
"Let's go to our room," Walter said, frowning.
"I'm sorry. You wanted me to pretend?" Alex said, piercing Walter with his
jadeite eyes.
"I don't know, but at least don't ask me for what I can't give you, Alex.
I'll bend but I won't break," Walter answered.
"I'll ask you for something you can give me, Walter. Buy me oranges, Walter.
I dreamed of oranges when I was in the pit," Alex said.
They spent the last night eating oranges in bed and the scent rose up around
them like nectar. The sweetly acidic juices ran down Alex's chin and had to
be licked and sucked from his fingers, swept with his tears from his face.
The room was fragrant with the smell of citrus and spices...
They made love until there was nothing left and even then, Walter could not
stop touching him, kissing him. Could not help clinging to him and holding
him close, wishing that he could just give in or that tomorrow would never
come.
Dawn however was as cruel the march of footsteps toward the cell of a
condemned man. It spilled across the two of them, as they lay awake in the
bed. Alex rose and held out his one hand. "Take a shower with me, Walter. I
want to be clean for a little while when I go back, but I want to be with
you every moment that I can."
"I want to be with you too," Walter said. "If I gave up my soul for anyone,
Alex, it would be for you."
"I know. Forgive me? No matter what happens...I do love you and I hate
hurting you. I wish I could tell you why..."
"Let's not talk about it," Walter said as he took Alex's hand.
His hands explored all of Alex and with the water beating down on them, he
knelt and worshipped him, taking his cock inside his mouth, swallowing him
deep, not missing one moment of the glory of making that beautiful face into
a mask of passion.
Alex refused to dress afterwards. They lay on the bed; Walter clothed and
Alex naked until the guards came in without a knock to lay the rug back
down. For a long moment, Alex clung and then he tossed his head in that
defiant manner and walked like a king to lie upon the carpet.
What Walter thought he could stand was more than his heart could bear; he
had to try to flail with his fists. He had to try to defeat the strong and
well armed men until he realized he was going down, going out, blood
streaming from his eyes from his wounded head, and Alex, unconscious now,
was rolled in that rug.
One white hand trailed out for a moment until they rearranged him and then
Alex was gone and the light was sucked from the room. Walter fell into
darkness and pain.
Of course, when he woke, his bags were packed and his return ticket was
beside him. There was never any other choice, but Tunisia would always be
heaven and hell to him.
Walter always wept when he smelled Tunisian myrrh, so bitter and sweet...
Adieu, mon cher Alex.
he scent of betrayal was bitter and fragrant. Walter stood staring out the
window of his office, thinking, dreaming, and for once not puzzling out how
he could handle the routine demands of his office on top of the insanity of
the X-Files. Instead, he remembered the smell of perfumed skin, the silken
sensation of soft skin...eyes, the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
They looked as if he wore kohl. His lashes were so thick they shaded and
darkened the extraordinary smoky green depths. When he kissed, the ends of
his lashes touched your face like butterfly wings. His hands were slender
for a large man and so sensitive. Walter remembered how it felt to have the
chestnut hair brushing softly against his face, the long fingers splayed
across his hips, thumbs resting on pulse points.
