Zoe Takashi as Alex Krycek.
Louise Wu as Walter S. Skinner.
Thursday, 6 July 2000
I've learned a lot about stealth during the trip. Alex is highly adept at changing names, making movements and watching for unwanted company. I find it a little challenging to remember the birth dates on my passports, but he's comfortable being a chameleon. It's kept him alive. I'm grateful for the lessons, which may keep us both alive to have a future together.
The airport in Inverness is small, and we've already been through customs, so it doesn't take very long to rent a car and depart into the green hills of Scotland. Actually, it's dark, so the green part is taken on faith.
The steering wheel's on the wrong side of the car, so I let Alex drive. He's on guard for the first few minutes after we leave the airport, carefully watching behind us, then he begins to relax.
The first larger town we come to is Elgin. Alex parks the car at a bakery, explaining that we'll take a taxi the rest of the way.
Bags in hand, we walk a few blocks to a busier part of town. We easily find a cab and Alex directs the driver toward the coast.
About 30 minutes later, the taxi pulls into a driveway. The stone house is fairly large and brightly lit. It's simple and inviting. The perfect place for two world-weary lovers to escape the war.
From what little I can see, there's landscaping around the house, but mostly rocky terrain beyond. I smell crisp cool air that tells me we're not more than a few miles from the sea.
Alex pays the driver and we head toward the house. The door opens and I can see the outline of a short, plump woman in the doorway. She steps outside and grabs Alex in a hug. "Will, it's so nice to have you home." Alex bears the hug with a long-suffering sigh. She whispers something to him and he nods.
When she deigns to release him, and before Alex can say a word, she turns to me and extends a hand. "I'm Abigail Maitland. Call me Abby. I'm Mr. Spencer's housekeeper."
Placing my suitcase on the stairs, I shake her hand and introduce myself with the fourth name I've used today. "I'm Daniel."
Abby releases my hand and promptly grabs my bags. I reach for the heavy one. "I've got it, Abby."
She holds on like a terrier and marches into the house. Alex grins at me, then tosses me his bag. "Here, you can carry mine."
"Thanks," I reply, without enthusiasm, following the sneaky housekeeper inside. The door opens into a very large foyer with a polished stone floor. It's not quite rustic, but very homey. There are two big windows overlooking the drive, and a huge curved staircase, where Abby has disappeared with my suitcase.
I love the house immediately. It smells spicy and clean. The décor is plain, well maintained and very comfortable.
Alex is leaning against the wall, watching me. "Do you like it?"
"I love it." Stepping toward him, I give him a thorough kiss. "I love you, too."
He smiles softly, then grabs my hand. "Let me show you around." We turn to find Abby standing at the foot of the stairs, her expression a cross between amused, pleased and slightly embarrassed.
"Oops," I whisper to Alex.
Alex grins, then turns toward Abby. "I don't suppose you were able-"
She frowns at him. "Yes I was. But next time, more notice if you please."
"I didn't say it had to be done, I asked if you could try to do it," Alex replies in a slightly defensive tone.
I nudge him with an elbow to the ribs. "What?"
He smiles. "I'll show you in a minute."
Abby looks me up and down, then looks understanding. "It's for him?"
Alex nods, looking a little flustered.
I feel a flush of embarrassment, wondering what the hell they're talking about.
"Wondered how you'd act when you were in love." Abby heads for the door. "Linens are fresh and there's a roast in the refrigerator that needs to be warmed up." She gives me a hard stare. "I assume you won't let him near my appliances?"
Saluting her, I reply, "Yes ma'am."
She nods. "I'm around back if you need anything." Then she's out the door. It's rather late... I hope she's going to get some sleep, not wait around for us to need anything.
Alex leads me toward the stairs and up to the bedroom. The bedroom is huge. King-size bed, an armoire, two matching chests of drawers on opposite sides of the bed, a small table with two armchairs and a fireplace. Our bags are out of sight somewhere.
"Our bedroom. There are two guest rooms down the hall that share a bath." He tugs my hand and leads me toward a smaller staircase. This one goes directly to the kitchen, and he doesn't even pause, heading to a locked door. He fishes out a key and shows me into his security room. Three computers, a security station and large safe. He gives the combination and has me open the safe. Weapons. Mostly handguns, models I've used before. Then he hands me an extra key, explaining that Abby doesn't have a key to this room, and mumbling about having to dust in here tomorrow.
With obvious impatience, he leads me out and down the hall to another closed door. He pauses, then says, "This is what Abby was talking about."
Giving him a smile, I open the door. Inside I find professional-quality gym equipment. Most of it still in protective plastic. Everything I used the day we went together and a few things I didn't. And one of each type of cardio equipment.
"Jesus, Krycek, when you do something you don't mess around."
He shrugs. "Well, I wanted you to feel like this was home, too."
I walk around the gym. It's an incredible home gym. Something only wealthy people normally have. There's a large window that looks out into the yard. In the dim light, I can make out a patio of some kind.
Images flash through my head. Alex reading poetry out there in the sun while I work out. Me pouncing on him all hot and sweaty afterward. It's so fucking perfect that it doesn't seem real, but we're here. And there's nothing we have to do but be with each other.
I take Alex's hand and guide him to the window. Wrapping him up in my arms from behind, I whisper in his ear, "Thank you."
His hand rests on my forearm. "You're welcome." He twists his head to give me a slow, soft kiss. It makes me lightheaded. This is real. We've fought for it.
Wednesday, 12 July 2000
The smell of freshly cut wood is comforting. I adjust the router and cut another shelf. I'm making a bookcase for the bedroom. For Alex to keep his favorite books in.
It's a cool day, but the heat from the fire is keeping us warm. Alex is sprawled in the windowsill reading one of his poetry books in some foreign language. Sunlight makes his tousled hair look a rich brown. When I'm finished with the bookcase, I'll stain it the same color.
"Lyubof' maya," he murmurs, turning a page.
I wake, sliding closer to Alex, then draping an arm over him, before I drift back into my dream.
We're in the bedroom, Alex watching as I place the bookcase.
"A little to the left."
When the bookcase is right where we want it, I stand back looking at the finished piece. Alex wraps me in his arms, one flesh-and-blood, one a work of art in metal.
When next I wake I feel content. Powerfully content. I shift closer to Alex and kiss him lightly on the cheek. He mumbles incoherently and pushes himself back into my embrace.
Thursday, 13 July 2000
We're working poor Abby to death just to take care of the two of us, but Alex reminds me of how little she does when he's not here. And she seems to enjoy it.
I've got a stack of special towels in the gym. Abby's found what I need to make a passable version of my slime beverage. She also bought more linens, so we can change the sheets every day. She introduced me to her grandson, Duncan, a hyper teenager, who she shooed out of the house immediately after the introduction.
Abby's cooking is a bit severe, similar to British food, but she responds well to suggestions. Alex and I are eating like teenagers. It's good to see him eat full meals.
Alex is using his functional prosthetic, which should be more useful to him than it is... he spends so much time working one-handed, he forgets to let the prosthetic help him. There's nothing wrong with it, except... it's a hunk of ugly metal and plastic... not attractive enough for his beautiful body.
I encouraged him to touch me with it. He was a little reluctant, but held my hand and asked me what it felt like. I told him that it felt artificial, but it still seemed like him somehow. It seemed to encourage him to try to use it more.
Somehow, Duncan got Alex to agree to teach him how to drive, so they left in the Range Rover 20 minutes ago.
I'm seated at the dining room table, trying to decipher the local newspaper. Two other newspapers appear at my elbow. The New York Times and The Washington Post.
Taking a seat, Abby gestures to the papers. "Will asked me to order some newspapers from the States for you."
"Thanks, Abby." I give her a smile. "You're taking great care of us. I appreciate it."
She smiles and waves it away. "In the four years I've worked for Will, he's been here less than four months combined and has always paid me more than the job merits. Duncan and I have the guest house all to ourselves." She pats my hand. "I'm the one who really appreciates it."
I nod, still grateful that Alex has this fine woman to help take care of him.
After a moment, she says, "I wondered when that boy was finally going to bring someone home. He told me yesterday that the house is half yours now and-"
She looks at me strangely. "The house. It's half yours."
Oh, I get it. We're lovers. We both live here. He doesn't mean the deed is in both our names, he means it's our home. At least I think that's what she's saying. Knowing Alex as I do, I have to wonder.
She goes on, "I asked him about the linens for the guest bedrooms and he said to ask you because the house is half yours."
Huh? "What about... linens?" Is Alex assigning me the mundane chores?
"Solid or stripes?"
I chuckle. "Stripes. Definitely stripes." I'm an executive, I know how to make decisions.
Abby nods. "Good. One thing taken care of. Now, what I originally wanted to discuss is us. I know where I stand with Will, but now that you're going to be making the decisions, I'd like to know where I stand with you."
"Excuse me?" What the fuck is she talking about?
She gives me a patient smile. "Will said you can make any decisions. I want to know how much you'd like to be involved and if you'd like to change any of our arrangements."
"Well, you seem to have things under control. I guess I'll just let you know if we need any changes as they come up. You can ask me about anything if you want my opinion." I feel a bit embarrassed. It reminds me of the day I got my first secretary, after being used to doing everything myself.
She nods, looking pleased. "And you'll want me and Duncan to stay on in our current arrangement?"
Alex, what did you say to her? "Of course. We're lucky to have you."
"If you'll pardon my frankness, Will has always seemed a little out of his depth when dealing with household matters. I occasionally wondered if that contributed to his decision regarding having Duncan and me living in the guesthouse. You seem much more comfortable with these issues and I wanted to be sure there were no misunderstandings between us."
I'm more comfortable? Having a housekeeper is... very odd. I wish I knew what exactly Alex was trying to delegate to me here. "Abby, I have no complaints about the current arrangement. And if I develop any, you can count on me to inform you."
Abby smiles and says, "Thank you." When she starts to rise, I put a hand on her forearm.
"I did want to ask you something about that small stone building on the hill. Is it being used?"
She sits back in the chair. "The old utility house? The gardener uses it to store supplies and do repotting."
The building is too beautiful to be used as a gardening shed. "If I built him a shed, could I commandeer the utility house?"
She gives me a flabbergasted look. "I would think that would be up to you and Will. Although I'm sure old Mr. MacLaren would be happy not to have to trudge up that hill."
"I suppose I could have made this decision unilaterally, but I think working together is best." Not like I'm any expert on grounds maintenance. "Would you ask Mr. MacLaren where he'd like his shed?"
"I'll do that."
When I get back to the house, feeling only mildly terrorized by Duncan's attempts to drive the Range Rover, I find Walter in the security room using one of the PCs. He hastily logs off the Internet and snatches some papers from the printer.
I come up behind him and try to catch a peek. "What are you up to?" I kiss his ear, then nibble a path down the side of his neck trying to distract him.
He still manages to fold the papers. "Nothing much... just some... shopping." He squirms out of my grasp and rotates the chair so he can see me. "So what's the deal with Abby? What did you tell her that's got her asking me about sheets?"
Propping my hip on the edge of the desk, I shrug nonchalantly. "She's always bugging me with questions about sheets and curtains and shit. The house is half yours, you can help."
He takes my hand. "So you're siccing her on me, huh?"
I smile at him, taking a moment to enjoy how relaxed and happy I feel. "Yeah. It's your turn. Be grateful you never had to deal with her while she's trying to help you 'adjust to life after amputation.'"
Under his breath, Walter mutters, "I don't think I want to know." He rises from the chair and wraps an arm around me. "Okay, I get the picture. Abby and I will take care of everything."
We walk out to the front porch. I tell Walter about the driving lesson while we stroll around the property. He doesn't say much, but he's looking at things and making mental notes. When we get back to the house, he asks, "Mind if I borrow the Range Rover in the morning to go into town?"
I'm curious, but only reply, "It's not borrowing... take it whenever you like."
Ignoring Duncan, who is running up the front drive, Walter gives me a kiss. I hear a vague grunt from the kid.
Friday, 14 July 2000
Walter's been gone all day. When I finally see the car in the drive, there are two very large boxes on the overhead rack. And the back is filled with boxes and wood.
A project. I hope I don't get stuck with the sanding.
Curious to see what's going on, Duncan makes it to the truck before I do.
Leaning against the door, I ask over Duncan's prattle of questions, "Wha'd'ya buy?"
"Presents." Walter glances at me, grinning. He looks very young. Passing two small packages to Duncan, he says, "The green one's for you. The red one's for your grandmother. Would you take it to her for me?"
Unaware that he's been dismissed, he takes the gifts and eagerly trots off behind the house, calling back, "Thanks!" as an afterthought.
I slide in front of Walter and pull him close. Nuzzling his neck, I murmur, "What'd you get for me, Muscle Man?"
There's a twinkle in his eye. "Sorry I was gone so long. I had to go all the way to Inverness to get what I needed." He slides his arms around my waist and squeezes me. "You'll get your present in the morning, okay?"
"I suppose I can be patient." Feeling incredibly grateful for what we have, I touch the side of his face. "Besides, my real present is in bed with me every night."
"Unfortunately, that present can't be returned. I lost the receipt." His reaches down to lightly squeeze my ass. "Plus the warranty expired a long time ago."
"You're wrong. This model comes with a lifetime guarantee. And I'm more than satisfied." I give him a quick, hard kiss. "Want some help unloading?"
"Nah, I'll do it in the morning." He passes me a large bag, which turns out to be very light. "But we can use this tonight."
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh really? Which room should I take it to?"
He brushes his groin across mine. "Bedroom."
Sighing appreciatively, I wiggle against him, feeling a wave of arousal. I wonder what's in the bag.
Suddenly, getting to the bedroom is a pressing matter. Arm in arm, we run into the house, boots clomping noisily across the floor as we make for the stairs. Once inside the bedroom, Walter leads me to the fireplace.
"It's a beautiful fireplace, but I thought it needed something." He gestures to the bag.
I pull out a clear vinyl package with something green in it. A blanket? Opening the snaps, I feel it. It's very soft and fuzzy.
"It's a rug," he says gently.
I spread it out on top of the existing rug. It's thick, like a fake fur. But green. Deep green. Then something clicks. The same color as the shirt he gave me.
"It's the color of your eyes, so you can just lie there like a lump and give me erections." His ardent gaze makes my heart beat a little faster. "And because it's soft and it will feel great on naked skin."
Turning him on is more than enough for me. Giving him a heated look, I reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it over my head, then pull open the fly of my jeans.
Watching me intently, he slowly removes his own clothing. He's always undressed for me efficiently, but this time he's... well, not exactly making a production out of it, but he's doing it very leisurely. And he now has my undivided attention. The intensity of his gaze has a direct affect on my cock, making it throb pleasurably. All I can do is watch him reveal his warm skin and try to remember to breathe.
When he's completely naked, he tosses his briefs at me. "Your turn, beautiful."
I reach for my prosthetic, but then decide to leave it on. I unlace my boots, dividing my focus between Walter's hot naked body, and making my prosthesis work. I quickly divest myself of my jeans, then step close to him, our bodies not quite touching.
Eyes glued to mine, he gives his cock two slow, deliberate strokes.
Immediately envious of his fingers, I reach out and nudge his hand away, feeling a tingle of pleasure at the warm, hard flesh under my fingertips.
He lets me play with it for a moment, then steps away, into the bathroom, returning with a large bottle of lube. Then he gestures to the rug. "Lie down and pose for me." The intensity radiating from his eyes is unbelievably arousing.
Lowering myself to a kneeling position, I lock my eyes on his. I open my legs a bit and brush my hand across my abdomen, as my hips push toward him.
Knowing how he responds to me—that just looking at me turns him on like this—makes me feel perfect... perfect because he wants me.
I move to my belly. The fuzzy rug teases my skin. I spread my legs and offer him my ass, as my fingers slide down the crack. Arching my back, I lift my butt. Being on display for him sends a rush of heady pleasure to every nerve in my body.
"I want to fuck you so badly," he rasps. "Want to be deep inside you and hear you cry out as I give it to you as hard as I can."
The memory of that feeling is indelibly etched on my brain... my whole body trembles in anticipation. "Oh, please..." I gasp out breathlessly.
Needing to see him, I roll onto my back, sprawling on the rug. The heat in his eyes singes a path along my body. I bring my right arm above my head, resting my hand palm up. Feeling suddenly nervous, I rest my prosthetic hand on my chest and slowly drag it down my body, my attention caught by the strange sensation of metal and plastic. My artificial fingers glide over my skin, past my hip and to my inner thigh. I bend my knees and plant my feet on the carpet. I bring my arm up, resting the wrist of my prosthesis in my open palm. Every movement against the rug makes my skin tingle.
"You belong to me, Alex." Walter sinks to the floor and sits next to me. He slides a hand down my chest, across my abdomen and very lightly takes hold of my cock. "This belongs to me." He gives me one long slow stroke, then releases me.
I groan, my hips trying to follow his hand. "Yours," I whisper in response.
Walter opens the lube and warms it in his fingers. Just watching him do that, knowing where those fingers are going, makes me shiver. I find myself murmuring, "I love your touch... whether it's hard or gentle... against my skin, or..." I gasp, the thought making me burn. "...or inside my body."
His eyelids get heavy, then he chokes out, "On your stomach again."
I hasten to obey.
A moist finger finds my anus. Involuntarily, I push my ass back at him. He doesn't make me wait, sliding the finger inside me, then out again, replacing it with two fingers.
My body is gently rocking back and forth. The silky feel of the rug is delicious torment on my cock and balls...my nipples hypersensitive.
Walter brushes his fingers across my prostate. "I love watching you writhe under my touch and knowing that your body is my plaything." His deep voice resonates inside me. I can feel it in my cock. "That I can do whatever I want to you." He fucks me slowly with his fingers. "That you want it. Want only me to touch you." Scissoring his fingers, he opens me up. "Will not give any other man what you give to me."
I groan, drowning in the pleasure of belonging to him. My hands—one artificial, one real—clench in the soft fur of the rug. I lift my ass, begging him for more.
Withdrawing the fingers, he penetrates me with three. My ass wants to resist, but I try to open my body to his intrusion. Then I'm lost in the sensation of my ass stretching to accommodate him.
"Knowing that you need my touch, as much as I need to touch you."
The slight friction of my cock against the rug could bring me off if I allow it. I struggle against the pressing need to climax and the certain knowledge that he doesn't want that yet.
He opens me up with three fingers, then begins to fuck me. And I so desperately need him inside me. Need him to take my body as his own. A physical symbol of his possession of my heart... my life.
"I love fucking you. Destroying you like this with the subtle movements of a few fingers."
I moan as my body follows his lead, craving his touch. As he fucks me harder, I whimper, hovering on the edge of orgasm.
"Knowing how desperately you need to come." He is destroying me. His voice, his hand, his words.
Just when I'm about to explode, the hand is withdrawn. I quiver on the rug, waiting for him to position himself to fuck me.
Then his fingers are back, pressing into me. It's only when I feel the intense pressure at my anus that I realize he's giving me four fingers. My breath escapes in a hiss.
"Relax, Alex." His free hand rests lightly on the small of my back. "Give it to me."
I let my mind defocus. This isn't just about my body. It's about him and me. I do give it all to you, Walter.
His penetration is pain at the edge of pleasure, but I feel my body begin to relax. Suddenly it morphs, now sharp pleasure at the edge of pain.
The fucking is slow, not as deep, but so intense. My anus burns when the width of his hand meets the resistance of my asshole. "You're doing fine, Alex. Just relax."
I latch my attention onto his voice. The cadence and low tone both arousing and soothing. I breathe, only aware of sound and sensation, then feel my body slowly yield to him.
"That's it." He increases the pace of the fucking, but I still feel the crush of his hand as his knuckles try to breach my anus. "Alex, I'm going to count to three, then I want you to come for me."
Come? I realize I'm right at the edge, but haven't been paying attention to the strident demands of my cock. Awareness brings all the sensations crashing in at once. The need to come, the burning pleasure of his hand in my ass. It feels like too much.
"One." He gently strokes my back. "Two."
I whimper... somewhere between need and protest.
"Three." I scream as my climax overtakes me. At the same moment, I feel the impossibly-large width of his hand slide all the way into me. My muscles seize with something like an orgasm within an orgasm.
Everything becomes black as the endorphins take over. Yours always, Walt. I collapse into the aftershocks of pleasure.
When I'm aware again, he's stroking my hair. There are no longer any fingers in my ass.
My limbs feel rubbery. I try to move, but only manage to moan.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly.
"Nuh," I mumble into the rug.
"Good." I can hear laughter in his voice.
Walter rolls me onto my side and kisses me deeply, then just gazes into my face. After a lengthy silence, he shows me his hand. Thumb extended back, outer fingers overlaying the inner ones. He makes a ring with his other hand and closes it around the middle of his palm, past his knuckles. Only the thumb is excluded.
That's how far he got. His hand is slightly red around the palm. My brain feels numb as I take in the size of his hand, realizing how much of it has been in my ass. My mind forms the image of his thumb joining the fingers and then rest of his hand...
I feel an unexpected surge of arousal that makes me shiver. Limbs still feeling heavy, I move closer and my lips find his.
Pulling me into his arms, he kisses me feverishly. He takes my hand and shifts it between our bodies. I wrap my fingers around his erection and stroke him firmly as I suck at his tongue.
Walter's body tension increases immediately. In just a few seconds, his muscular body tightens and he gasps. I feel his warm semen on my fingers as his body stills and he emits a long, slow groan.
I'm holding onto him with my prosthetic arm, keeping him close as I feel the tremors of his orgasm subside. Slowly, I release his softening cock and bring my fingers to my lips, tasting his cum. He makes a faint whimpering sound that I take as appreciation.
I kiss him gently, then release my hold on his back. I notice some indentations in the skin on his back. From the prosthetic. Well, my fingers do that, too.
After a moment, he blinks and seems to focus on me. "I know you want to get fisted, but I thought I'd see if you could survive four fingers first."
I feel myself flush a little. "I survived." Of course, I feel like I've been fucked non-stop for a month. "I hadn't thought about it since I mentioned it to you, but... I really enjoyed that." Well, hadn't thought about it much. Definitely no more than once a week.
"You still want to go for five?"
"Yeah." I lightly tap his chest. "But I want to know what you want."
He rolls back a bit so I can see his face. "As you know, I was horrified at first, because of the size of my hand, but I've been thinking about it while jacking off for the past year. I, uh, it turns me on a lot." He runs two fingertips down the line of my jaw. "You're braver than me if you want to go all the way."
I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of his skin against mine, his touch on my face. I focus on his warm eyes again. "Yeah, I want to go all the way."
He gives me a tired smile. "There's something I've been thinking about that I need your help with."
Wiggling a little, I try to get closer, feeling the tickle of the rug. "Okay."
Walter strokes my thigh and hip, fingers brushing over my tattoo. "You've got my permanent mark on your body," he meets my eyes, "I'd like to have your mark on mine."
I blink at him in shock, then feel a rush of warmth flood through me. It's not just a physical sensation. "You're mine, too?" I whisper, feeling more for him than I know how to handle.
"Yeah." His smile is sweet and gentle. "Would you design something for me?"
I nod. "Yeah... I will." An idea immediately forms in my head, but I need time to think about it. I stroke the side of his head, then around to the back, playing with the fringe of hair. "Thank you, Walt."
Saturday, 15 July 2000
When I wake, Walter's sitting up in bed. "Morning, beautiful."
I drape my arm over his thighs and nuzzle his hip. "Morning."
His fingers caress the back of my neck. "Alex, I've been thinking about where we should live."
I rest my head on his leg and idly stroke the inside of his thigh. "Okay. Where?"
"I love this house. I'd like it to be our home, if that's okay with you."
I quickly move to a seated position so I can look at him. "It's perfectly okay with me... I'd love it."
"We can have other places, maybe keep my condo in D.C., but this is such a beautiful place." Walter smiles at me, looking thoughtful. "I'm sure it will be miserably cold in the winter, but I figure a Siberian boy like you can tough it out. And I did promise to keep you warm."
"Okay. Let's live here. And keep the condo." I study my hand for a moment, then offer, "New Zealand is warm in the winter."
His smile broadens. "I was hoping you'd come to that conclusion." He pulls me into an awkward position on his lap. "Thank you. Now I feel like this house really is half mine, even if your name is the one on the deed. It is, isn't it?"
I fidget for a moment, trying to get more comfortable, and absently reply, "You're on the deed... I told you it was half yours."
Walter frowns. "So you did give me half the house?"
"Yes. What did you think I was talking about?"
Shaking his head, he replies, "Sharing it with you. 'My home is your home,' not... fuck." He gives me a perplexed look. "I don't... I can't. Fuck, Alex."
I watch him in bemusement. "What?"
"This house must be worth..." He trails off and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm starting to feel like a kept man here."
Shit. People always get so funny about the issue of money, but he seems more stunned than upset. "Christ, Walt... I... I probably should have discussed it with you first, but you own a lot more than this house."
Walter's eyes open wide and he gives a little choked cough. He opens his mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out. Finally, he manages, "Okay. I'll sign my meager assets over to you when we get to D.C. and you can manage the whole thing."
I smile at him, deciding to avoid explaining—for now—how my assets are managed. But if anything ever happens to me, he'll get everything. "So, you want to live here and can accept that it belongs to you?"
He nods, and replies, "Since you're paying for everything, you probably think you can demand sex anytime you like..."
I rest my forehead against his. "Hell, I thought that when you were paying the bills."
"Yeah, well, keep dreaming, pal." He ruffles my hair with his fingers. "This morning I've got something better than sex in store for you."
I give him a dubious look. It doesn't seem likely, but I'll play along. "Okay. What is it?"
He kisses me on the forehead, then gets out of bed. "Meet me behind the house in an hour." Then he disappears into the bathroom for a quick shower.
I stare after him in bemusement. Okay.
An hour later, I exit through one of the rear doors and find Walter in the back with two bicycles. He's grinning like a ten-year-old. "Something we wanted to do together, a long time ago..."
I stare at the bikes in amazement. I can vividly recall the sense of anticipation I felt on a warm day in June so many years ago... doing something together for the first time. I find myself smiling.
"Okay, I lied. Not better than sex, but I've been waiting longer to do it with you."
The bikes are identical German-made road bikes. As I look them over, he hands me a heavy, black nylon tool kit. "You're in charge of maintenance, Krycek."
From my squatting position next to one of the bikes, I look up at him. "They look to be in good condition, Assistant Director."
Walter smacks me on the arm. "Hey, none of that. I'm retired. You're still Krycek."
It takes me a few minutes to adjust Walter's bike for his size. He takes it for a test ride around the yard.
Next I turn my attention to my own bike. I haven't ridden since long before I lost my arm. I wonder if I'll be able to do this.
Walter whizzes by on his bike, deftly executing a one-handed turn.
Smartass. Try shifting gears while you maintain your balance. Actually, that might not be so difficult.
I don't even have to get on the bike to know where to put the seat height. I used to love to ride.
Walter parks his bike and stops me from working on mine. "Uh-uh. Not yet."
I give him a flabbergasted look. "Why not?"
He smirks at me. "You have to change clothes first." He pulls something out of his jacket pocket. It's a pair of blazing yellow bike shorts.
My lips twitch and I try not to laugh. "You cannot be serious."
Resting his elbow casually against the house, he grins at me, still holding the shorts out to me.
"Walter, they're yellow."
"I hadn't noticed." He drapes the shorts over my shoulder.
I glance at the disturbing garment. "And what are you going to wear?"
"You know, Alex, I anticipated this objection." He smiles beatifically, and pulls another pair—in flaming orange—out of his pocket.
I cannot stop the laugh. "Okay. I give." His are much worse. I grab mine before he can change his mind. "Did you have an equally repellent shirt to offer, or shall we go bare?"
"Bare. You can buy matching shirts next time you're in town." He removes his jacket and takes off his clothes.
I follow suit. As I'm slipping my jeans off, I catch sight of Duncan rounding the corner of the house. He stops dead, then takes off. I pretend like I didn't see him and pull on the obnoxious yellow shorts. By the time I get my shoes back on, Walt's ready to go.
He looks damned fine in anything, but the color of those shorts... I bite my lip. "You look like a road cone."
Walter steps in front of me. "Now that you mention it, my cone is hanging a bit too far to the left. Think you can give me a hand?"
I feel a twinge of arousal as I slide my hand into his shorts and adjust his package.
"Notice he's not complaining about the shorts now," Walt declares smugly.
Once my bike is adjusted, Walt and I ride all over the property and on some of the back roads. We keep to the flat at first, so I don't have to shift gears. When we hit the hills, my prosthetic works fine to steady the bike, so I can shift. When I'm dawdling on one hill, Walter rides right up next to me and shifts my bike himself. Then we both try to balance with no hands on the handles, which is pretty much a complete failure, but leads to a great deal of laughter.
The day is cool and bright. But even if it were nighttime with dense fog, we wouldn't lose sight of each other.
After having completed all the maneuvers that require dexterity, when we near the house again, Walter manages to wipe out on a little bump. Right in front of me. I jerk my bike around him and manage to halt without falling.
Walt's sitting on the ground inspecting a skinned knee.
"You okay, or should I call the paramedics?"
Giving me a dirty look, he stands up. "Nope. The nanos will take care of it." He puts an arm around my waist. "It's about time they did something useful."
I give him a kiss, tasting sweat and dirt and loving every minute of it. "It's not exactly useful, but they are changing the color of your hair."
He gives me a weird look. "What hair?"
"Here." I slide my hand around to the base of his skull. "Here, too." I peer closely at his chest, licking at it for good measure.
His eyes fall to his chest. "Oh, yeah. Huh. It's not as gray." His fingers pass over the top of his head. "Adding hair would have been useful. I can live with the gray."
I've never been able to successfully visualize him with hair. I've seen photos but it doesn't quite work for me. Inanely, I offer, "Love you just the way you are."
He shakes his head at me, as if I'm a complete idiot. Then leads the way toward the house. I catch his arm before he gets inside and turn him back. "Thanks for this. I'd... forgotten how much I enjoy riding."
Walter gives me a frisky kiss, then drags me into the house.
Abby's fussing with the curtains as we pass by.
"Afternoon, Abby," Walter calls out as we stumble onto the stairs.
Looking at Walter's orange-covered ass, I offer, "The rear view is quite-"
Turning, Walter bumps my hip. As I start to fall, I reach for him and we both tumble down the stairs, landing in a pile of limbs. Walter emits a loud, low laugh, as I curl into his body giggling.
Suddenly, Abby is standing over us, shaking her head. "You two are just a couple of oversized ten year olds."
Still laughing, I manage, "Your point?"
While Walter is trying to get us to our feet, Abby extends a hand to help. "Lunch is almost ready if you boys can stop these shenanigans."
"Yes, ma'am," Walter mutters, pulling me by the hand up the stairs again.
I call back over my shoulder, "Okay, Abby. I'll take my man upstairs and wash him up for lunch."
In the bathroom, while simultaneously peeling off each other's shorts, Walter says, "We gotta get you into more of these shorts." His eyes caress my groin. "Although, I won't demand it in the winter." He brushes his palm across my dick. "Wouldn't want you to get frostbite on anything important."
"Um, no," I quickly reply in complete agreement. I contemplate the puddle of bright fabric, then turn my attention to Walter's incredibly hot body. "Other colors might be nice," I mumble as I reach around to stroke his ass.
"They had a nice fluorescent green," he says innocently.
I trail my fingers up his crack, then trace the contours of his spine. "No more clothes shopping for you."
His expression has shifted to something more serious. "You like the way my ass looks?"
I bring my hand back to his ass and cup one cheek. "I think you have an amazing ass."
Walter looks slightly embarrassed. This is odd. "You still want to fuck me?"
"Yeah, I do," I softly reply. I move closer, kissing his collarbone. "If you want to, I would love it. But I'm fine with it if you don't ever want to."
"Yeah, well, you've given me all the possible outs, but..." He enfolds me in his arms. "I don't know. After yesterday, seeing you take most of my hand, I guess I don't have to be such a wimp." He crushes our bodies together. "Uh, I'd like to try it."
Feeling a sudden surge of arousal, I hold him tightly in return and kiss a path up the side of his neck. "Okay."
"Now?" he asks shyly.
"If that's what you want." I nudge him a little. "Let's shower."
Nodding, he releases me and starts the water. We climb into the shower and I reach for the soap and a washcloth. Holding the washcloth in my hand, I kiss his neck, down his chest, then to his abdomen as I slide to my knees. I kiss up the inside of each thigh, tasting the sweat and salt on his skin before sliding the soapy cloth up one leg.
I suck the head of Walter's erection into my mouth as I work the cloth on the other leg.
Clutching my shoulder, he gives a low groan.
I slowly take him deeper into my mouth, dropping the washcloth and bringing my soapy fingers up to fondle his balls, rolling them in my hand. I savor the feel of his rigid flesh on my tongue as I finally take him all the way into my throat. I stay like that until I need air, then back off.
Walter sighs, then cards his fingers through my hair.
My lips trace the line of his cock into his pubic hair, then to his abdomen. I grab the soap again and continue washing.
First tasting, then caressing with soapy fingers, I work my way back up to his neck, spending a long time on his chest, teasing his nipples, which makes him smile. I gnaw and suck at his neck as I wash his arm, working my hand down until our soapy fingers are interlaced.
Rivulets of water flow across his skin, slowly rinsing away the suds trying to cling to his body.
Pulling back, I gesture for him to turn around. He looks a bit nervous, but he turns his back to me. I press my body to his and slowly slide down, my cock pressed against his flesh, my tongue marking the path until I'm on my knees again.
I nip at the back of one knee, then trace my tongue up the back of his thigh. I find the bar of soap near the drain and work it up his leg as my mouth finds the perfectly rounded cheeks of his ass. I tease them with my teeth and lips, dragging my tongue along the crack.
I nudge his inner thigh, encouraging him to separate his legs. My tongue is eager to find his anus.
I press my face into his ass, lapping at the crinkled skin, teasing the tight opening with the tip.
Walter braces his hands on the tile in front of him, pushing his hips back a little. His response encourages me and I move my tongue rapidly over his tender flesh, then slowly press my tongue inside.
I pull out to lap at his skin again, then push back inside, tongue-fucking him vigorously. I forget everything but the pleasure of doing this to him... feeling him respond in the subtle roll of his hips, hearing him moan his appreciation.
"God, Alex, I'm passing into a liquid state here." His body seems heavier as he labors to keep himself upright.
Reluctantly, I slowly get to my feet, trailing my lips over his skin. I quickly wash up, then turn off the water and lead him out of the shower. Not bothering to dry off, we move to the bed.
Dripping on the floor, our bodies press together, and I kiss a path along his collarbone. "Do you have a position you'd prefer?"
He gives a slight shrug. "Any way you want me, lover."
Of the possible positions, the easiest would probably be him on his hands and knees, but it tweaks me for some reason. If he's on his back or stomach, I'll need my prosthetic for balance and it's unlikely that I'll be able to touch his dick easily. I guess I like the idea of him on his side.
I pull him onto the bed, and we wind up in a tangle of arms and legs. I find his mouth and part my lips, offering myself to him. His tongue makes a possessive sweep of my mouth, which I find oddly grounding.
He winds up on his back with me astride his chest. I grab the bottle of lube and toss it near his hip, then kiss my way down his body. When I reach his cock, I settle between his legs and suck the tip into my mouth, teasing the slit with my tongue.
"Mmm... Do you think you can fuck me and suck me at the same time?"
Don't I wish. Instead, I take him all the way into my throat, and he gives a gasp of appreciation. As I work my mouth on his cock, I nudge his knee, encouraging him to bend his legs.
He responds immediately, bending his knees and spreading his legs further apart. He gives me a slightly nervous smile. I turn my attention back to his cock, taking him all the way down again, then teasing the underside of the shaft. I brace my weight on my stump. It takes quite a bit of concentration and dexterity to keep my mouth busy on his cock while groping for the lube and getting a small amount on my fingers.
I warm the lube, then bring my slick fingers to his ass. I slowly slide one finger inside him, pressing up to find his prostate as I suck hard at the head of his cock.
Walter twitches, then groans. His breathing becomes more rapid. His hand finds my shoulder and he squeezes it gently. "It's good," he says softly.
I feel a mild tremor of nervous apprehension. I know what to do, but I've never been so worried about making sure my partner enjoys it. Releasing the head of his dick, I draw my tongue along the underside as I begin to move my finger in his ass, rubbing his prostate with every gentle push.
I'm mildly disconnected from my own arousal. It's there, but it's not important right now. I'm intently focused on every twitch and tremor in his body, my ears attuned to any sound he makes.
When I feel him relax with one finger, I slowly work in a second as I continue to tease his cock head with my tongue and lips. His ass is incredibly tight.
"Aah..." He tenses slightly at the second finger, but doesn't pull away. "I'm with you," he murmurs.
I release his cock and balance my weight carefully on my stump, so I can look at him as I press both fingers against the firm flesh surrounding his prostate.
What I see in his face is mostly arousal, with a hint of discomfort. His hips shift again—just a tiny rocking motion. He gives me a slight nod of encouragement.
I kiss the inside of his thigh while working the two fingers in his ass. His body wriggles away a bit, then settles down again. "Keep going," he says in a tight voice.
I can tell he's not as into it right now. Without warning, I take his cock all the way down again. His fingers bite into my shoulder as he gasps for air. His hips ride up, gently fucking my face. I think he likes having my fingers in his ass, but doesn't quite know how to relax.
I stop teasing his cock and withdraw my fingers. Walter looks a little startled. I push his legs toward his chest, then slide my tongue into his ass.
He sighs and I feel the tension drain from his body. Pushing gently toward me, he fucks himself on my tongue.
I fumble for more lube and discover a cold puddle of it on the sheets. How convenient. I warm it on my fingers, then remove my tongue and slowly press two fingers back inside.
"Yeah... that's better."
There's a slight return of some of his tension, but I'm able to easily move two fingers in his ass. Instinctively, my mouth seeks his cock, and I tease him for a long time before cautiously pressing three fingers into him.
There's a flicker of tension, but as soon as I reach his prostate, he pushes the tension away. "Do it... I'm fine."
I want him to be better than fine. I want him to enjoy this. Watching his reactions carefully, I slowly move my fingers in his ass, stretching him gently.
Once again, I trade fingers for tongue, fucking him until he's a boneless lump, then bring back my fingers.
Walter accepts the intrusion more easily this time, but he's getting restless. "I want your cock, Alex." Bossy about everything. It makes me smile.
I slowly withdraw, then lick a path from his cock to his collarbone. I kiss along his jaw to his ear. "Roll onto your side."
He nods, then gracefully slides into position on his left side, separating his legs and bringing one knee up to his chest. "Fuck me, Alex."
His words suddenly make me aware of how turned on I am. Of how much I need him. I find the cold puddle of lube again and stroke it onto my cock. Something strikes me as being odd... It's the lack of condom. I haven't fucked anyone bare since... since... It would have to be Vlad.
Kissing the back of Walter's shoulder, I slide the stump of my arm under his neck as my slick fingers tease the crack of his ass. He pushes his ass back at me and murmurs, "Do it."
I bring the head of my cock to his anus and gently press inside. Then wrap my arm around his waist as Walter's body goes tight.
"Don't. Stop," he chokes out.
I hold on to him tightly as I continue to slowly push my cock into the tight, hot confines of his ass.
About halfway inside, the tension in his body starts to melt away. He moans softly. "Oh, yeah."
I've never gone so slowly before, but this is Walter. The feel of him in my arms is beyond intense. I don't want him to feel any pain... only pleasure.
The tight clutch of his ass on my cock is the sweetest sensation, but it's a distant second to the feelings he's aroused in me. "Love you so much."
Then my cock is all the way inside him. I pause to steady my breath... and my emotions.
My body twitches around the delicious sensation of having him inside me.
Reaching back with my hand, I manage to find his hip. "You feel good." Somewhere after the head of his cock pushed into me, it stopped being about something uncomfortable stuck up my ass and started being about Alex and me.
Holding still, savoring the moment, I find myself unexpectedly content.
Alex strokes my chest. "You okay?"
"I'm great." I interlace my fingers with his. "Give me what you got."
He kisses my shoulder and begins to move his hips, sliding his cock out, then slowly pushing back in.
It's good. Damned good. But I can't help the feeling that I'm supposed to be doing something instead of just lying here. I almost laugh out loud, because it's abundantly clear there isn't much I can do besides squeeze his hip.
Each time he penetrates me fully, I'm surprised by how deep inside I feel him. He's touching me in places no one has ever touched me. Not like this. Held by him. Loved by him.
Alex keeps a steady rhythm, kissing the back of my shoulder, the side of my neck. His hand squeezes mine. "The first time you fucked me this way, it scared me... being held and fucked at the same time. It scared me because I was afraid to want. Afraid to need it... to love it." His hips move slightly faster. "Now I live to touch you... be touched by you. And I wanted to fuck you in a position where I can hold you. Like you've held me." His voice catches. "Love you, Walt."
"Love you, Alex." I rock slowly in his embrace, enjoying the disorienting feeling of him fucking me, taking his pleasure from my body, giving to him by doing nothing more than wanting to be touched by him.
Since there's so little I can do, I relax into his gentle fucking and enjoy the sensations. The warmth of his breath against my neck. The strong arm around my waist. The length of his cock filling me. The brush of his thighs on my ass. The throbbing heat of my own cock.
Suddenly, I want more. "Harder..." Do it, Alex. Fuck me as hard as you want. I won't break. Want to feel you. Need to feel you.
He increases the speed, now pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. He pries his hand from mine and encircles my cock.
"Oh, yeah." It's better this way. Much better.
Alex's fingers brush roughly across my erection. It's so good to have him stroking me, and inside me.
He groans, his breathing labored and erratic. "You feel so fucking..." he gasps for air. "good. Hot and... ungh... tight."
His gravelly voice undoes me. And the knowledge that my body is good for him—I fervently want this to be good for him.
My pleasure reaches a critical point. His hand is velvet friction on my cock. I try to hold it off, but the moment is too perfect. I groan, and manage to sputter, "Hard-" and I'm already coming.
Alex grates, "Oh, yeah..."
The climax fills my senses from head to toe. I'm making some sort of loud noise, but I can't think of anything but being with him.
With my last moment of clarity, I squeeze down with my ass.
"Fucking hell!" His hips jerk and move erratically, then one more smooth thrust and he begins to come. He holds me tightly, his face buried against my neck as the orgasm racks his body.
As my body dissolves into his arms, I listen to his breathless sounds and feel the incredible throbbing of his cock inside me.
Reaching behind my head, I run my fingers through his hair, soothing him as the gentle tremors inside my body slowly fade.
I realize that I'm lying on the smooth skin of his stump, but Alex doesn't seem to mind.
He's still for a long time, then slowly rouses himself, kissing the side of my neck and my ear. He shifts his position and his softening cock slips from my ass.
Hmm... that's rather sensitive.
"You okay, lyubof' maya?"
"Oh, yeah," I offer mindlessly. Settling back into his embrace, I add, "You have a beautiful cock and you know how to use it."
Against the back of my neck, I feel his lips turn up. "And you have an amazing ass." He kisses the side of my face gently. "Thank you," he whispers.
"Thank you." Extracting myself from his grip, I turn to my other side, so I can see his face. "I know you had to work for that."
Alex moves close, wrapping his arm around me again. "You're worth any amount of effort. I just wanted you to enjoy it." He gives me a satiated smile. "And feeling you come like that was incredible."
I reach for his stump and give it a quick massage. I'm feeling pleasantly weary.
Alex gives me a smile of thanks and murmurs, "Lunch is already cold... let's sleep."
"Good idea." I pull the blankets over us and drift off.
As I rise from the bed, I feel a sinking sensation in my abdomen and stumble awkwardly to my feet.
Alex is watching me closely. "You okay?"
Taking a deep breath, against a slightly queasy sensation, I reply, "It feels like my internal organs have been rearranged." I catch myself holding a hand to my belly, as if to keep them from falling out.
He tries not to snicker... too much and climbs out of bed. He glances at his left leg, which is covered in something slimy. "Yuck, I left the lube bottle open."
"Uh-huh," I offer mindlessly as I limp toward the bathroom. "Christ, Alex, it doesn't always feel like this afterward, does it?" My expression is a mix of terror and dismay.
Alex steps into the bathroom and runs his hand down my arm. "Well, I always feel something afterward." He gives me a concerned glance. "Are you hurting?"
"Fuck, yeah. It feels like..." I stop myself before I stick my foot in my mouth. "You know, I'd really like to complain about having something that size up my ass, but I figure I won't get a lot of sympathy from you." I lean against the shower door and try not to pout.
He moves close to me and nuzzles the side of my neck as his fingers trail over my cock. "I'll give you as much sympathy as you want."
Maybe Abby was right about the ten-year-old thing.
Nevertheless, I allow Alex to baby me in the shower. Twenty minutes later, we slink downstairs looking for food.
Getting fucked isn't something I want to do often, but it felt good, and right, with Alex. It makes us more... complete somehow.
Abby's at the kitchen sink, washing vegetables. For dinner, I suppose. Without looking up, she shakes her head and directs us to the refrigerator for lunch.
After heating some sort of casserole, I walk gingerly to the table to offer it to Alex. Abby watches my stiff movements with amusement. Christ, she and Duncan and even the damned gardener will all know exactly what I've been doing. As I sink gingerly into a chair, Abby approaches the table. "You're walking a little funny, Daniel. You boys overdo it?"
I've never been more embarrassed in my life. My face feels hot. I grimace at Alex. Help!
"Yeah," replies Alex, with a twinkle in his eye. "It's been a few years since..." He gives me a provocative glance. "... since he's been on a bicycle."
Wednesday, 19 July 2000
Walter's up to something. I saw him this morning having a conversation with the gardener. And he's been puttering around the old utility house.
I'm curious to find out what he's been up to, but he's being secretive. I guess I'll just have to go investigate. But work first. I dial into another of my banks and shift some money around, then seal a packet of information for one of my solicitors in London.
After locking up the security room, I head into the kitchen. Abby's baking something and the kitchen smells really good. I toss the packet on the table. "Abby, would you mind dropping that in the mail when you next go to town?"
She nods and I sneak one of her cookies. Without even looking in my direction, she calls out, "Take one for Daniel, too."
I 'sneak' another one and head out back. I assume Walter's in the utility building. I hesitate outside the door and call out, "You going to let me in on what you're up to, or do I have to eat your cookie?"
Walter opens the door and gives me a peculiar look. Then he takes the cookie and steps back inside, leaving the door open. He's set up some sort of workbench and is doing something to a piece of wood with a machine that makes noise.
I stand by the window watching him for a few moments. He turns and gazes at me for a while, giving me a meaningful look, then goes back to his work. Predictably, he finds something for me to hold while he works on it. It looks like a piece of decorative molding or something.
When Walt seems satisfied with it, he hands it to me. He carries a large ladder to the front of the main house and climbs up to a second floor window, where he removes a similar piece of wood from over the window. He tosses it down to me and I hand him up the new one, which he hammers into place.
On the ground again, he gets a can of paint and carries it up the ladder. He paints the molding and then climbs down. I hold up the piece he removed. "What's wrong with this one?"
He shakes his head at me. "Somebody did a cheap restoration job. This piece doesn't have the little cut triangles like the matching one on the other side."
"Oh." I wouldn't have noticed. Well, if it makes him happy... although, I'm not sure exactly how it makes him happy.
We walk back to the utility house. I glance around more carefully I haven't been in here in a long time, but it looks like he's been fixing it up. I remember something he said before we left D.C. "Is this your shop?"
"Yep," he says, taking out a fresh piece of wood. "For a little while longer I have to share it with the gardener, but then it's all mine."
He sounds happy and it makes me smile. "I'm glad we came here."
Walter looks up from his work and comes to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Me, too."
I hear Duncan's voice from outside and he waves at the window, looking excited. Walter seems to understand what the fuss is about and leads the way to the front of the main house, where we find a huge eighteen-wheel truck.
Walter approaches the driver and signs something, then a huge crate is unloaded into our driveway. I give Walter a what-the-fuck-is-this look.
"The gardener's house," he replies with a grin.
By nightfall, he's got the thing half assembled back behind the guest house. Even though it's just the 'gardener's house' he takes a great deal of pride in putting it together. And it's an attractive wooden building that seems to fit on the property, rather than standing out as a too-modern addition.
Walter seems happy and content, so I go with the flow, offering to help occasionally, but mostly just savoring the sight of him doing something he enjoys.
After a shower and a late dinner, we pull on our jackets and go for a walk. The moon is bright, easily lighting our path as we wander away from the warmly lit house. After a few minutes of silence, I pull my hand away from his, remove a piece of paper from my pocket and pass it to him.
It's a large representation of the tattoo design I'd considered. A two-headed Phoenix, wings folded, in strong almost tribal lines, with a WSS on the neck of one and AK on the neck of the other.
"A Phoenix," he murmurs, still gazing at the design, "Rising from the ashes... how appropriate." Walter smiles at me and looks at the art again. "Where would it go?"
"Maybe left hip? So when we stand face to face, they're touching?"
"I like it." He turns the art over. "Got a pen?"
I pull the marker I used out of my jacket.
He sketches my tattoo, then draws one wing of his Phoenix behind and around it, the wing tip wrapped around the letters protectively. "Since you got yours when I wasn't there, I'd like to add something to it."
His words create a warm sensation in the pit of my stomach. "I'd love it."
Folding the paper neatly, he tucks it and the pen back in my coat pocket, then pulls me into his arms and whispers, "Forever."
Saturday, 22 July 2000
Tossing the paintbrush into the can, I look at my finished gardener's house. That's the last coat of varnish. It should keep it weather-proofed for two years.
Now I can get back to my shop.
I seal the varnish and sit on the ground next to Alex, who's reading a book. "Do you like it?"
He sets the book down and gives the building a thorough once over. "It's incredible. I cannot believe you put this thing together." He glances around the property. "And it... I don't know... fits."
I take a deep breath and feel myself relax. It does fit.
My mind wanders to all the improvements I could make, but I decide to defer them until my shop is done. There, I've already installed the frame for the window seat. Abby agreed to help with the upholstery.
I scoot a little closer and lie back, wrapping a leg around Alex's legs.
I'm lying here with the man I love, on a bed of soft grass. The air smells fresh and clean. I've been making things. Got more good things to make. A tattoo appointment on Monday.
This life can't possibly be what rose from the wreckage of my life in D.C. I must have dreamt the whole thing.
Alex is engrossed in his book, so I snuggle him and think about fisting. The last couple of times we fucked, I got him past my knuckles pretty easily. Maybe on Monday... after the tattoos.
The afternoon passes in a busy, but happy blur until I realize I lost track of the time. Alex and I are supposed to go out to dinner. I dart into the house and head for the shower. Alex is nowhere around.
When I emerge from the bathroom with a towel around my hips, I find that everything has changed.
The room is now only lit by a few candles, which cast a golden glow on Alex's naked body draped across the bed. He smiles at me sensually as he rolls onto his stomach. "You're running awfully late."
"Ahmph." I clear my throat. "I... yeah."
I then notice the other things in the room. Soft, sultry music in the background. A platter of fruits and cold cuts sits on one bed table. And oddly enough, a hotplate with a small pan on the other bed table.
He's up to something... something very nice. As my cock fills out, I sit on the bed next to him.
Alex presents me with a varying selection of meats, which I eat from his fingers. It's such silly, sensual fun. He winds up astride my hips, feeding me bits of fruit interspersed with kisses.
Chuckling, I nip at his fingers. The more aroused I get the more lassitude I feel. There's nothing I need to do except eat and fuck.
He reaches for the small pot on the hotplate. When it's close I know by the smell what it is. Melted Valrhona.
I'm not sure exactly what he has in mind until he produces a small paintbrush from somewhere and begins to decorate himself. He brings the paintbrush to his hip. At the first touch he hisses softly. Very hot Valrhona. He paints a little AK on his hip, opposite my initials on his other hip. The he moves on to his chest, dabbing chocolate on his nipples, which makes him wince.
He proves to be surprisingly adept at both painting with chocolate and writing upside down. Eventually the words 'Personal Property of Walter Skinner' emerge on his abdomen.
The last obvious place to paint is his cock. He offers me the brush.
After setting down the pot of chocolate, he flips onto his back and meets my gaze, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "Dessert?"
I'd be laughing my ass off if I wasn't so turned on. "I think I will... AK" His eyes soften and his lips quirk up. I think he likes the nickname.
So I paint his cock with the hot chocolate, impossibly aroused each time he flinches. Loving it... and him.
When the chocolate is gone, in addition to my teeth marks, there are faint burns where the chocolate had been.
Monday, 24 July 2000
Walter won't let me in his shop anymore. Last time I was there, I saw what looked like a built-in bookcase near the window, but he shoed me out before I could inspect it further. Abby's in on it. She's been in there twice with a measuring tape.
He's not exactly neglecting me, though. He comes out at least once an hour to fondle me if I'm around.
I used to wonder how I'd handle a bunch of time on my hands... thought I'd get bored. But not so far. Being with Walter is my antidote to boredom. He lures me into the gym to work out with him from time to time. Mostly I go just to ogle him while he's sweating. I ride almost every morning now. He joins me about half the time.
And we both have a lot of energy and interest in sex. I wondered if me fucking him would change things between us. But it hasn't. Although, he's a little more sympathetic about the condition of my ass after a particularly vigorous fuck.
The life we led in D.C. seems far away. Occasionally, I remind myself that we have to figure out how we're going to handle the Resistance, but I push these thoughts away. Not yet.
I still check my voicemail. Vlad calls twice a week and Lyosha leaves a message every Saturday. I have more time to think about him now. Time to think about possibly getting to know him. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, because it's so contrary to the way I've lived for 17 years.
I stop ruminating when I see Walter exit his workshop and head toward me. We take a quick shower, then get in the Range Rover for the drive to Inverness.
The shop is a little difficult to find. A single door with the word 'Tattoos' above it. There's a sign that says to wait outside. We lean against the brick wall for about ten minutes before the door is opened by a small, older man with head-to-toe tattoos. He greets us tersely, his accent a heavy brogue, and gestures us inside.
He looks over the design, then bends over his work table. I glance around the room. Small, but clean. A table for the customer and one extra chair. Walter seems relaxed.
The small man turns toward us, showing us his tracing of the design for Walter. It looks good to me. Walter smiles and nods.
The artist tells him to remove his pants and briefs and get on the table. Once he's lying on his back, the tattooed man drapes a cloth over his groin, then shaves and cleans the area. This is all new to me, so I watch with interest.
After the design is transferred to Walter's skin, the tattooist positions a mirror so Walter can see. Between the two of us we agree on the placement.
I ask questions about how the instruments work as the man prepares to start. He answers in terse, half sentences. I take Walter's hand and watch closely as the artist begins.
Walter's expression is calm, happy. He mouths, 'I love you.' I give him a gentle kiss in return.
It's strange watching the design form. It looks just as if we'd used a marker... hard to believe it will never wash away. It's permanent. I'm a part of him forever.
The outline is completed first—the bird's wings, body and two heads. Walter doesn't appear to be in any pain, but I keep hold of his hand just because I like touching him. The artist pauses to stretch and I look at the small 'AK'. It makes my stomach flip over and I feel lightheaded. Seeing my initials on his body...
Walter gives me a knowing smile. "I've got your mark now. Guess you're stuck with me."
"Yeah. You're not going anywhere, pal. You're mine now."
"Hey, okay." He raises his hands in mock surrender. "I know a good thing when I see one."
I smile in return and give him another kiss. "Thank you for this."
He takes my hand and presses it reverently to his lips.
Ignoring us completely, the tattooist hunkers over Walter's hip to fill in the design. Before he starts, I whisper something in his ear and he shrugs and adjusts to make my requested change. The fill-in takes less time than I expected. It looks... perfect.
I hand Walter the mirror. I know he spots the change instantly.
The fill of the A.K. Phoenix head is green. Instead of black. A rich, dark green. It looks great.
It's really on me now. The skin is reddened and slightly bloody, but it looks completely beautiful to me. Like the original AK.
Alex is watching for my reaction.
I give him a smile and ask, "Do you like it?"
He nods, his eyes conveying how much. "Do you?"
"Love it." I pull his head down for another kiss.
When I get up from the table and pull on my pants, the artist gives me care instructions. I pretend to pay attention, out of politeness. I figure the nanos are going to heal this very quickly, whether I clean it properly or not. I guess I've become complacent in my old age.
The tattooist quickly creates a tracing for Alex's Phoenix wing. After we approve it, Alex strips from the waist down. The artist looks at Alex's existing tattoo closely, then under a magnifying lamp. He asks about the tattoo method, then suggests we refill the original WSS because the less solid lines will look odd next to the new tattoo. Alex murmurs agreement, and the new pattern is transferred to his skin. I take Alex's hand and suggest we do it in bright yellow to match his shorts.
Alex glances at the artist. "Don't listen to him. He's color blind." He returns his attention to me and says more quietly, "How about green... to match yours?"
"Yeah. That would be great."
I watch as the artist recolors my initials in solid black. It looks so much more striking and substantial than it did before. Then he lays down the bold outlines of the wing around the original tattoo. It looks totally different to me than it did before. Better and more mine. Because I was a part of it this time. It's no longer a souvenir of Alex's stay in prison, but a reminder of our first trip to Scotland. And what it meant for the two of us to be able to take this trip. After so many fucking years.
When the circle is complete, I hold the mirror for Alex. He smiles and murmurs, "Yours."
"Mine," I reply happily.
Though I am also his, Alex is mine in ways that I will never be his. And knowing this seems to make the blood flow smoother in my veins. The promise of something I touched years ago is real today.
We have a pleasant dinner in Inverness, before Alex drives us home. There's a comfortable silence in the car. I'm thinking about fisting him for the first time tonight. I wonder what he's thinking about.
Back at the house—our house—I peel off my clothes and the bandage over the tattoo, to re-inspect my art in front of the bathroom mirror. Alex appears naked behind me, eyes locked on my tattoo. I take a look at the whole picture in the mirror. I look... good for my age. There's only a trace of gray left in my chest hair. The lines on my face are not as pronounced.
After our nightmarish experiences with those damned nanos, they're giving us something back. Healthier, stronger bodies are wonderful. But the best part is time. These bodies are surely good for at least a few years beyond the normal life expectancy.
And it feels as if the world owes us time. Because it has taken so much from us.
Turning my thoughts to the present, I check out my handsome lover in the mirror. Alex, of course, looks like the sexy, sexy man he's always been. I reach behind me and squeeze his cock. It feels very promising. We're both pretty much always in the mood for sex these days. Better living through nanocytes? We fucking deserve it.
I turn around, stroking his hard-on slowly. "Why don't we do something about this?"
His eyelids are heavy, and he steps a little closer. He glances down at where our tattoos are almost touching. His is almost two inches higher than mine.
"It's those damned sexy long legs of yours," I toss off, as if that's a complaint.
He offers me a sultry smile and backs up into the bedroom. I give chase and end up knocking him onto the bed when we get there. We roll around a bit, just being frisky. He lets me pin him to the bed and steal kisses, with a very cute token resistance.
Those long legs wrap around my hips and he rubs his groin against me. The soft skin of his hip rubs against the tender flesh where my tattoo is.
I feel... immortal. Like every bad thing has already happened to us and now nothing can touch us.
With his legs wrapped around me, he gives a provocative thrust of his hips and feigns a struggle against my hold. "Are you planning on doing something, Muscle Man, or are we just gonna wrestle?"
Crushing him under my body, I give him a long, deep kiss, running my hand between us to tease his cock. "So you wanna fuck, AK?"
He focuses dazed eyes on me. "Do I ever not wanna fuck?"
"Um, no." I roll off him and reach for the bedside drawer, extracting the lube, which I toss on the bed. Then, to Alex's amazement, I disappear into the hall, returning in a minute with a black-framed cheval mirror, which I position at the foot of the bed.
He gives me a look that is half amusement, half sexual frustration. "I wondered when the mirror would make an appearance."
"Abby found this for me. We'll have to rearrange the bedroom for the right permanent solution, but this will do for now." I sit on the bed next to him.
He straddles my lap, rubbing against me. "You and your mirrors."
"Hey, beautiful. If I didn't like to look at you so much, we'd never have fucked that day in my garage." I rub his chest with my fingertips.
Alex sighs appreciatively. "I wasn't complaining." He wiggles off my lap and slips to his knees between my legs. He teases the inside of one thigh with his lips, then slowly works his way down, licking, sucking and nipping a path to my foot.
His soft lips make me feel like the blood is throbbing in my veins. He adjusts his position to bring my foot close to his face. His tongue seeks out the arch, tracing the contours, then slides up to work between each of my toes in turn.
I collapse back to brace myself on my elbows as Alex sucks my toes. He lavishes attention on my foot, then switches to the other one.
It's silly really, having your toes sucked. But it makes me tingle and feel so damned happy. We're lying in our bed in our home and he's blissing out my feet with his impossibly clever tongue.
As soon as I decide I need to move the action along, I raise one foot and press it to his chest. "Did I hear the phone? It must be the Attorney General."
Alex chuckles and runs his hand up the inside of my leg. "I'm sure the call will be much more tolerable with my lips around your cock."
"Tell you what... we won't answer it. I'm busy." Flashing him a grin, I tug his body up the bed and roll him onto his back. Lying over him, I press my face to his groin and enjoy the musky scent of him. I idly lap at the head of his cock, teasing the surface with my tongue, as he wriggles in appreciation.
Scooting up his body, and watching his face intently, I pin his arm over his head. His eyelids become heavy and he arches against me. So I take it one step further and pin his stump to the bed just above the prosthetic.
His breath catches and he turns his head to look at my hand holding his stump. Slowly, his legs come around my hips, one foot trailing up the back of my thigh, as he fixes his passion-laden gaze on me.
In the lamp light, his lips look pink and slightly swollen. I lean forward and devour his mouth. I can feel him yield... the way his tongue touches mine... the way he gives his body to me. Only it's not just his body he gives.
The smooth interiors of his mouth are familiar yet still exciting to me. His taste inspires me with lust and love. I've never felt like this during sex before... it's not just connected. It's made for each other, as if an unseen hand designed him for me and me for him.
Relinquishing his mouth, I lick his lips while Alex moans helplessly.
Meeting his gaze with determination, I murmur, "I love owning you, Alex." His legs tighten on my hips. "Knowing that I have the right to kick the ass of any other man who gets too close to you."
He stops breathing and bites his lower lip.
My cock twitches, as if to remind me of my need. But it can wait. I'm going to take my time tonight.
"Knowing that your ass, your mouth, your hand, your cock all belong to me."
He gasps and a tremor passes through him. His eyes briefly slip shut, then he focuses on me. Lost to anything but me.
I rub my groin across his. "Your desire to please me turns me on as much as your body does." Releasing his arms, I tell him with a look that I want him to keep them where I put them.
His breathing is rapid and shallow. "Anything you want," he whispers.
I want you, Alex. Just you. Like this.
When I reach for his leg, he instantly releases the hold he has on me. I scoot down the bed. "Bend your knees, Alex."
He quickly positions himself with his legs far apart, feet flat on the bed.
For a moment I can't even think of touching him, because I'm so turned on by what I see. "You look wonderfully indecent laid out for me like this." Then I shift my hands between his legs and trail my fingers down the insides of his thighs.
Alex quivers in appreciation.
Keeping my touches only teases, I stroke his anus. "I know how much it turns you on to be on your knees while I fuck your face." Rubbing his balls between my fingers, I continue, "On your belly while I fuck your ass." I brush the tip of his cock with my thumb. "On your back with your legs wrapped around my waist, my cock deep inside you."
"Fuck yes," he gasps. "Feels like..." His toes curl, clenching into the bed. "...own me." His thigh muscles flex and bunch.
I must be a sick man. I get a deep satisfaction from rendering him so lost, so out of control, so needy. I can only smile wickedly and brush my palm down his engorged shaft. "Watching you beg for it with your sexy voice, your body, your tortured expression." His arms haven't twitched from where I left them.
Reaching for the bottle of lube, I see his eyes follow my hand and a vague look of relief softens his features. After thoroughly anointing two fingers, I position my hand at his entrance. "Knowing that you'll wait all night for your climax if I demand it." I slowly press both fingers through his anus. "And thank me for it in the morning."
His fingers twitch as he gasps and his body opens for me.
The sensation of first penetration sweeps through me. Stretching, tingling, sharp pleasure. I focus on Walter. I would wait days if he wanted. The thank you is a given. I feel a flush at the thought. So is begging.
He fucks me gently with his fingers, spreading them slightly to stretch me open, then briefly brushing across my prostate. "Knowing that you're enslaved by the sex." His rich baritone voice is a soothing counterpoint to his caresses. "Needing it—needing me—to the point of near madness."
"Enslaved by you," I gasp in response. It was always you. Never the sex.
A soft tightness forms around Walter's eyes, as he takes in my words. He observes me for a moment, then slowly extracts his fingers and reaches for the lube bottle.
He lifts my knees and pushes them toward my chest. "Hold on, if you like," he says softly, releasing my hands as effectively as if the bonds had been material.
I wrap my arm under one knee, the prosthetic under the other and eagerly await his touch. The intensity of my need for him still scares me sometimes.
Soon his fingers are inside me again, then three. He directs my attention to the mirror. And I realize he's positioned it for me, but I can't quite see his fingers in me. He tracks the direction of my gaze, then taps the mirror with his foot to adjust it. Without a word spoken, he repeats the process until I can see his fingers disappearing inside me.
Watching him do this to me is one of the most intensely sexual experiences of my life. And strangely, one of the most emotional.
A smile radiates from his eyes as he watches me struggle to breathe, struggle to control myself. He affects me so strongly. "I deliberately take you to the edge like this simply because it excites me." He fucks me vigorously on the three fingers. "Nothing has ever turned me on more than seeing you so helplessly aroused."
His arousal ratchets my own up another notch. It feels impossible to be this turned on and not explode. My desire the mirror of his. My surrender the reflection of his ownership.
Three fingers feels like more as he separates them inside me, opening me up for him. I relax into the pressure of his hand, wanting more.
When his fingers are withdrawn, I know he'll give me four. But when I feel the barrier of his knuckles, I glance into the mirror and realize that his thumb is tucked into his fingers, the barest tip of it entering me with each gentle thrust.
It's a struggle to breathe knowing we're going all the way tonight. Wanting it... him... desperately.
He makes no effort to get past the knuckles, just fucks me like that, slowly at first, then with a bit more force. My body trembles in response, the feeling of fullness making my limbs feel heavy. His intense brown eyes flick back and forth between my ass and my face. Oddly, he seems relaxed, less wired than before.
My body is on fire, my cock painfully hard. But my focus is on Walter. The man I love... the man I belong to.
I feel... stoned. Gently blissed out and peaceful.
Even without trying to breach his ass with my knuckles, I can see that I will be able to. He takes the fingers so easily, looks at me with such trust.
Alex, you give me everything. I'll never be able to show or tell you how much you mean to me. I'm no better at communicating it to you than I was before. I only hope you can see it somehow. And know that it's a part of me I've never given anyone else.
Yours is the only name on my flesh.
Fucking him a bit more vigorously, I allow my knuckles to press against the tightness of his anus. He resists for a few a thrusts, then I feel it slowly release.
I fuck him smoothly, until the resistance in his ass seems to melt away. But for the prominent knuckle of my thumb, my hand would be inside him. Using my other hand, I apply more lube and keep fucking him, this time going further with each thrust. To the final obstacle.
He's barely breathing, eyes locked on me. I can see the tremors of pleasure, feel them through my hand, hear them on his breath.
What seemed so impossible now seems so easy. I want to give it. Alex wants to receive it. His body will accept.
The sight of my fingers disappearing inside him reminds me of how hard I am, but I'm so lost in the experience of giving something to him that I don't really care. It's suddenly clear to me that I do have much to give him. It's so unlike what he offers me, but I'm intensely grateful for it. Because it holds him to me.
"Yes?" he gasps out.
"Look at me. Don't take your eyes off my face until I tell you to."
There's a flicker of apprehension, but then his face calms and his eyes glom on to me.
In my silent gaze I try to tell him everything I can't say.
A few more thrusts, before I allow my hand to slip inside him. I see a flash of pain cross his features, which shifts to awe. His eyes are wide, reflecting love and trust and desire.
I curl my fingers over my thumb, still my hand and whisper, "Look in the mirror." Only when his eyes fall to the mirror do I allow myself to look.
The ring of his anus is around my wrist. Absurdly, I'm surprised to find my hand completely inside him.
The moment is... sweet. We've done this together, because he wanted it.
I cannot take my eyes off the mirror. His hand is all the way inside me. I allow myself a breath. Then another. It's real. The fullness, the sharpness of being stretched is unlike anything I've ever felt, and so intense it feels as if it will pull me apart.
Tearing my eyes away from the mirror, I look at Walter, who's giving me a gentle smile and looking slightly astonished.
"Please," I murmur.
Slowly he moves his hand. First a twist, then a bit of a thrust. Eyes glued to my face, he makes tiny movements. Tiny devastating movements. Only the strength of his gaze keeps me from zoning out. Pleasure and flashes of pain coalesce as overwhelming sensation. The constant pressure on my prostate makes my cock throb unbearably. But the real intensity is my connection to him. This thing between us.
The movements of his hand are destroying me. I shudder, which intensifies the acutely pleasurable sensations in my ass. It's a struggle to keep my eyes open, but I stay focused on him... lyubof' maya.
Walter pushes gently with his fist and my whole body jerks in reaction. I remind myself to breathe and look at the mirror again. The sight is so erotic, so unexpected. It's hard to believe that it's me... so open and exposed and vulnerable... and trusting. He's brought me so far.
The power of my feelings for him becomes physical pleasure, and I whimper at the sharpness of it.
His free hand reaches for my cock, which he strokes lightly, then allows to rest cupped in his hand. The sweet pleasure of his hand on my dick is my undoing. There's nothing but Walter and this incredible sensation.
The hand in my ass turns to drag across my prostate. I nearly scream in reaction, the sensation traveling up my spine, turning my brain to jelly.
He finds a good rhythm with his hand, putting pressure on my prostate. "Alex," he says softly, meeting my gaze. "Ask me for your orgasm."
I feel as if I'm dissolving into the mattress, knowing I could come in an instant once he gives permission. Instinctively, I open my legs a little wider, begging him with my body. "Please, Walt..." My breath catches again. "Please let me come."
The heat in his eyes seems to contradict his calm demeanor. "Talk to me. Tell me how badly you need it." With a subtle twist of his wrist, he increases the friction inside me.
My eyes widen with alarm even as my body twitches in response to his slight thrusts. Talk? Now?! "For you," I sputter and try to breathe. "Need it so badly... for you." With my last vestige of coherent thought, I manage, "I need to come... because it's what you want." I gasp at the mounting pleasure-tension in the base of my spine. "Only if you want it... please."
Walter gives me a heavy-lidded gaze, and for a moment loses the rhythm. He quickly gets it back, strokes my prostate and murmurs, "When my lips... touch your cock."
Teetering on the brink, I nod helplessly, knowing that my body will almost instinctively obey him. No matter how impossible it seems.
He fucks me gently like that for way too long... a few seconds. Then he slowly leans over me and sucks the head of my cock into his mouth.
An all-consuming fire spreads through my body. I'm screaming at the onslaught of sensation, my body moving helplessly, my cock seeking his mouth, my ass seeking his hand. It's all too much and I can see pleasure.
The taste of his cum makes me think of the taste of his blood and the no-longer-visible mark on the back of his neck. Smiling into his groin, I decide to put that mark back again soon.
As Alex's body begins to calm, I hold the hand inside him steady and lick his cock. I am such a prick, but the thought only makes my grin grow broader.
Releasing his cock, I sit up a bit so I can look at him. He looks wasted, in a happy way, his hand half covering his face, his legs dangling in mid-air. I extend an arm to support the weight so he can be zoned out without any distractions.
My own cock is still hard, my balls tender. But in some way his release feels like my own.
Micro-tremors are still passing through his body, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. His eyes open slightly and he focuses on me, offering a blissed-out, soft smile.
"Hey, beautiful. Decide to join the world?"
Alex gives a faint shake of his head.
I chuckle. "Okay. You don't have to." I adjust my position a bit, so I can start thinking about taking my hand out of his ass. I hope this doesn't hurt more than it did going in.
The first test is a slight rotation. His body twitches and he whimpers faintly. "Shh, it's okay." As carefully and gently as I can, I extend my fingers and release my thumb inside him. He groans and rests his forearm over his eyes.
Poor Alex. I try not to imagine what this would feel like coming out of my ass. Fortunately, it seems beyond my comprehension.
I give a silent prayer of thanks for great lube, which seems to still be doing the job. "I'm going to try not to hurt you." I get my hand ready to extract the wide part, then whisper, "Take a deep breath, Alex."
He breathes deeply, and I feel him try to relax.
I firmly but carefully pull against his anus. By the time Alex cries out, my fist is being forced out of him by the tension in his ass. "You did great."
His feet thud onto the mattress. I shift toward the top of the bed, wanting to get close to him, but instead reaching into the bedside table for a towel. After wiping away most of the lube, I curl in next to Alex, with a hand under his neck and my fisting hand on his chest.
He shudders, then turns his head to look at me. His eyes are unfocused. "Amazing," he whispers.
"Yeah," I reply astutely. I hold the fist that was inside him in front of his face, so he can see what he took.
He looks at me for a moment, his eyes telling me how much he loves me, then tilts his head up to kiss the palm of my hand.
I wrap my arm around him and pull him close, rolling onto my back so he's a flaccid lump on top of me. Massaging his shoulders, I find there's little tension to work against. I slide one hand down to his ass and stroke it gently.
He wiggles against my touch, creating friction against my cock, then stills. His hand slides down my body to rest on my hip. A moment later, he tries to roll off me, but I brace my arms around his waist so he can't go anywhere.
Weakly pushing against me, he mumbles, "Wanna suck you." He moves his head to look at me. His expression still has the post-orgasmic daze. "Please fuck my face, Walt."
Brushing my lips across his, I reply, "You're wiped, Alex. I can jack off."
"Let me suck you off." His voice is a plea. "Want to taste you."
I rough up his hair with my fingers. It's hard to say no to him. "Okay, Alex." I let him roll off me this time.
Settling on his back, he reaches for me. "Straddle my face."
He's too tired to do anything else, so I crawl on top of him and point my dick at his face. Looking up at me, he murmurs, "Take what you want." He immediately sucks the head inside his mouth, then swallows me all the way down, moaning around my cock.
My balls draw up and my eyes fall shut. I see pictures in my head... my hand in his ass, his face—his gorgeous face—totally in the moment, feeling only the sensations I gave him. Lost but safely held in my arms.
Without any conscious control, my hips thrust into his mouth. He relaxes, offering himself for me to take my pleasure from—as fast and as hard as I want.
His submission seems oddly god-like. He's able to achieve a mental/emotional state that mere mortals cannot. Offering himself freely and completely.
It's my turn to trust him. I fuck his face at the pace my hips want to go, trusting that he can breathe, that he'll communicate his distress if necessary. And something in me lets go as I take possession of his throat and go flying off the cliff of my own climax.
I feel waves of heat coming off my body as pleasure-filled tremors pass through me. The closeness to him, the intimacy of the act, makes it feel so right. As the pleasure begins to diffuse throughout my body, I take my cock from his mouth and collapse on the bed next to him.
I'm aware of Walter's warmth near me and instinctively seek it, curling toward him. My breathing is labored as my body pumps oxygen to my brain. Rather than bringing me back to reality, sucking him off has made me feel more dazed... more lost. I hold onto him, my body awash in new, yet achingly familiar sensations.
Walter mumbles something incoherent and tugs my upper body onto his chest. Then, apparently satisfied, he relaxes again, his fingers drawing lines on my neck.
I'm incapable of holding on to any thought but how perfect this is. I feel sleep pulling at me, but force myself to stay with him... to savor the moment for a little while longer.
His breathing slows, each breath lifting me as his chest expands. Just when I think he might be going to sleep, he says, "If the sex keeps getting better, the next pair of orgasms could be our last."
I chuckle, feeling completely content. "You might be surprised to hear this, but my ass feels... weird."
"I know what's been in it. I think you should be happy with 'weird.'" He wraps his arms tightly around my waist.
I let the sleep pull me under, thinking... I'm happy with you.
When I wake, Alex is asleep, his face is in my armpit. I don't know how he's managed to breathe like that. I shift slightly to give him air, but stay close.
I'm desperate to wash up, but I don't want to wake him and his arm is draped over my chest, so I try not to think about it. The urge to pet him is also strong. I give in to that one and lightly stroke his hair.
A while later, he stirs and sighs with pleasure. He nuzzles his face against my skin. After sending him into the land of hair-petting bliss, I whisper, "How about we get cleaned up?"
"Shower," he mumbles affirmatively. He sits up, then gives a startled yelp.
I give him a big smile. "Want me to carry you?"
He gives me a playful slap on the arm and gingerly climbs out of bed. As he walks to the bathroom, he mutters obscenities in several languages. He turns on the water, then faces me, wrapping his arm around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.
I hold him for a moment, then guide him into the shower. "You just stand there, I'll take care of you."
He offers me a tired smile as he leans against the wall to wait for me.
Soaping up my hands, I wash his face and neck. Alex makes small contented sounds as I work my way down his chest and gently clean his genitals. Then I carefully wash his tattoo. It looks iridescent in the water. When I turn him around, his shoulders tighten up. "Shh, it's okay. I'll be gentle."
As I soap his back, his tension slowly drains away, then he spreads his legs slightly. With the lightest possible touch, I run my soapy fingers down his crack. He whimpers, but doesn't tense up.
I quickly finish his legs, then have him hold on to me while I shampoo his hair. He leans against the wall watching me intently while I clean myself and finally my own tattoo. His expression briefly turns possessive as my fingers slide over his initials. "You like having your mark on me, AK?"
"Yeah," his voice becomes low and husky, "I do." His eyes rake my form from my toes to my head. "I'm luckier than I ever could have imagined."
Lucky to have me? Maybe he is. "I'm the lucky one."
He shakes his head faintly. "You're the most amazing gift." He reaches out to touch my tattoo. "This is an amazing gift. Thank you... for tonight."
I'm still stunned when he says things like that. I don't feel like a gift. "It doesn't bother you," words I didn't expect are coming out of my mouth, "to accept my fidelity... knowing I broke that promise once before?"
Alex smiles softly. "It doesn't bother me because I know you don't look at anyone else this way." He reaches out to touch my face. "I know I have nothing to worry about as long as you look at me like that. You make me feel as beautiful as you say I am... and your eyes tell me I'm yours."
Tension I didn't know I had flows out of my body. He does know. He can see it. If and when I try and fail to express my feelings, he'll know.
I take his hand and press it to my lips. Then his fingers slide around to the back of my neck and pull our mouths together.
A few minutes later, we step out of the shower and I wrap him up in his bath sheet, tucking the end in so he's bundled up from the chest down.
He smiles at me. "To quote someone I love very much... It feels like my internal organs have been rearranged."
"Ah, well, I know from experience—the experience of being fucked by a very generous sized dick belonging to someone I love very much—that the organs seem to wander back to their original locations in a day or two." I dry myself off hastily, then wrap my arms around him.
Once our teeth are brushed, we strip and remake the bed. Alex grimaces occasionally as a change in posture causes him discomfort. At last we crawl into bed, immediately shifting into our favorite going to sleep position—Alex's head on my shoulder, my arms around him, and his arm and leg draped over me.
Tuesday, 25 July 2000
I wake slowly, my body still feeling heavy with satiation. By the cadence of his breathing, I know Walter's still asleep. Careful not to disturb him, I turn over so I can see his face. There's an odd sensation in my chest. I love him so fucking much.
It's impossible to resist the lure of moving until our skin touches, of holding him and pulling him close. I know he's awake because his arms come around me.
He doesn't say anything. I couldn't reply if he did. How do you explain that you're overwhelmed by how much you feel?
This can't be my life. I must be dreaming.
A short time later, I'm preparing to join him in the shower, but I stop to stare at my tattoo. The lines of his initials jump out at me more than they ever have before. The wrap of the phoenix's wing is exquisite. My fingers tease the tender flesh as I climb into the shower.
Walter spends most of the day working on his secret project. I spend most of the day replaying the memories of last night. Especially the moment when I felt his hand slide into me completely. Every time it makes my stomach flip over and my knees feel weak.
I have a lot of financial work to do, but don't get much done... just stare at the computer a lot. Eventually, I give up and go for a ride.
Walter's eyes... possessive, loving, awed. His hand sliding inside me.
I ride the bike into a ditch.
It's like being drunk for hours.
I lie in the dirt and stare at the sky, but really only manage to see Walter's tattoo. Then his body. Then his smile.
How long am going to be like this? I heave myself off the ground and out of the ditch, then turn the bike toward home.
When Walt's working on his secret, Abby usually serves lunch picnic style on the grass by his shop. Don't want to miss that.
As I come around the last turn, I see he's already sitting on the ground. I pull the bike up right next to him.
"Where'd you go?"
I flop on the ground, head resting on his leg. "Just riding around... thinking about you."
Thursday, 27 July 2000
As we approach the small stone building, Walter takes my hand and escorts me through the door. At first I don't understand, the inside looks unfinished. His power tools are on a makeshift table. This is what he didn't want me to see? Curling an arm around my waist, he turns me to face the window.
There's a large window seat, covered with black leather and pillows. It's big enough to lie down on. A small indented shelf has a coaster and a glass of tea. Built into the wall next to the window seat is large bookcase, with several volumes of poetry I haven't seen before. All the wood he's used has a beautiful grain with a natural finish.
Feeling stunned, I stare at Walter's creation as he wraps his arms around me from behind. I don't even have to look to know the expression on his face. A self-satisfied smile.
I don't know how to define everything I'm feeling. Walt made a place for me. He's stirred something in me I've never experienced before. I stroke his arm and murmur, "Thank you, lyubof' maya."
After a moment, I pull away and step close to the bookcase, running my hand over the smooth surface. My love made this. "It's beautiful."
Walter sits on the window seat. "I had Abby use a lot of padding, so I think it's pretty comfortable." He grins at me, and extends an arm.
I smile, thinking back to how hesitant I was to sit the last couple of days, then sit next to him. Draping my legs over his lap, I kiss his jaw. "It's perfect."
A bit of heat flares in his eyes, but then he pushes my leg up and stands. "Let's try it out." He unbuttons his shirt.
I blink at him, feigning innocence, then glance around. "But... there's no mirror."
He tilts his head at me. "Oh... You're right." He starts rebuttoning his shirt.
"No... I'm wrong." Jumping up, I stop his hands and work the buttons back open. "It's okay. We'll try it once without any visual aids."
"Well, if you don't mind roughing it." He opens his fly while I get his shirt off. Once he's naked, he helps me remove my clothes.
I have a sudden sense of déjà vu. Walter, his workbench...
I reach for him, running my hand over his abdomen and around to his low back. His skin is so warm and smooth. "I'm suddenly reminded of our first fuck."
"Must be a good memory if it put that smile on your face."
My cock is equally enthused. I slide my hand down to his ass. "Oh yeah." I kiss his collarbone. "A great memory."
"You're way out of line, Agent Krycek." He manages to capture that stern A.D. tone of voice that I so rarely hear any more.
I wanted him so badly that day. I want him so badly now... always. I never would have conceived that this is where we'd end up. I wouldn't have believed it possible.
I move my hand to his chest, just below the nipple. The hair tickles my palm, just like before. The heat of his flesh sears my skin. My breath catches at the sudden wave of arousal and I meet his gaze.
Walter takes a slow, deep, unsteady breath. Then he pulls me into a kiss, a long searching kiss. The familiar taste and feel of him bring the past and present together. It's the same and yet so incredibly different. My body molds to his, yielding to him in ways I couldn't have imagined then.
I whimper a protest when he finally takes his mouth away. Meeting his gaze again, I grind against him, rubbing our cocks against each other.
He gives me a lascivious look. "Mmm... How about you sit on my dick?"
I kiss up the side of his neck. "Okay." My lips find his earlobe as his fingers disappear into my crack, lightly brushing the sensitive skin of my anus.
Shivering at the exquisite sensation, I manage to ask, "I don't suppose there's any lube on that bookcase, is there?"
His lips form a smile and he steps away from me. Under the little shelf with my tea is a tiny drawer, from which he extracts a bottle of lube. After handing it to me, he squats in front of the window seat and opens a large drawer, filled with linens. He unfolds a sheet over the leather surface, then lies down on it, stuffing a pillow under his head. The seat is wide enough to accommodate his body side-ways with only his calves hanging off the end.
I'll bet he did the math, to make sure that our bodies would fit on this thing in most possible configurations.
He looks so incredible lying in the window seat, the sun hitting his skin. Suddenly breathless, I allow my eyes to prowl over his body. I realize he looks younger than I've ever seen him. Is it the nanos? The trip? I'm not sure it matters as long as he's happy. And I know he's happy. We're both happy. Every fucking day... and we deserve it.
I just stare at him until a question forms in his eyes. In response, I softly reply, "I love looking at you, too."
Walter flushes slightly and runs a hand down his chest, very slowly until he reaches his abdomen. He's been working out hard. I can see his ab muscles. Eyes locked on mine, he slides the hand further down to his thigh, then encircles his erection and strokes it a few times.
My breathing accelerates and my cock throbs. "You're so fucking sexy, Walt."
His brown eyes seem to darken, but he doesn't say anything. I want to just slide on top of him, but there's a more prosaic matter to be dealt with. And I know just how to make Walter enjoy it.
There's a folding chair nearby and I nudge it to the spot I want. I get close enough to him that I'm just out of reach, then turn around. I lift one foot and place it on the chair, making sure my legs are far apart. I pour a small amount of lube on my thigh, then toss the bottle away. After thoroughly coating two fingers, I bring them to my ass, sliding them down the crack and circling my anus. I push one inside, quickly followed by the second. Slowly, I move my fingers in and out, distributing the lube and stretching myself.
"Do it," he says in a rumbly low voice. "Get yourself ready for my cock."
I moan in reaction to the desire in his tone and fuck myself more vigorously. My need for him destroys my patience and I withdraw my fingers. I gather the rest of the lube off my thigh and turn to face him. Walter watches with heavy eyelids, as I straddle his legs. My lube-slick hand encircles his cock and I stroke him slowly.
A soft sound comes from his throat, but he remains still. Almost unnaturally still.
Reluctantly, I release his cock and wipe the excess lube on the sheet. I position my ass above his cock and reach between us to guide the head to my anus. I sink down, taking just the tip into my ass. There's a burn, and I wait, holding the position and watching him.
Walter groans and gives a slight twitch, stopping himself from pushing all the way inside me. I can feel the power of his body being held in check.
I push down a little, taking more of him into me, then rise up again. Keeping my movements small, I fuck myself on just the head of his cock.
His body shudders. "Oh... bastard," he manages. At any moment the full strength of his body may come into action and my little game will be over but, for now, he's letting me play. Using no small amount of his will.
I'm not just teasing him, I'm teasing myself. I want more of him inside me, but the barely leashed power of his body is turning me on massively. I squeeze my ass around his cock head a few times, my eyes roaming over his body, watching the slight tremors, the twitching muscles.
Walter tries to glare at me, but the precariousness of his state makes it come off more as desperation. Before Walter, I never liked teetering at the edge, denying myself to make it more intense. I wanted instant gratification. But now, I crave the look in his eyes when I'm desperate, on edge because of him, waiting for his permission to come.
My dick is painfully hard, and I want his cock in me so badly. I'm close... wanting more, but I want to keep us at the edge for a little longer... see how long it can last. How long I can last. I move my hips a little quicker, still keeping the movements shallow. His cock doesn't quite hit my prostate as I fuck myself. My body yearns to have him deeper, but I-
A low growl from Walter is the only warning. His hands are at my waist, his hips pushing up. Hard. Burying his cock inside me.
I grunt with shocked pleasure. Sensation floods through me. My head falls back as tremors rack my body.
He pushes me forward and I brace my hand on his chest. Then he fucks me hard and fast. The expression on his face reveals total focus on fucking. He's lost to anything but the intense pleasure of fucking me.
His assault on my ass is pleasure at the edge of pain. I keep my body braced to accept him as I drown in the addictive sensations. His cock hitting my prostate brings me perilously close to orgasm.
Walter slams into me, each thrust threatening to pitch me forward through the window. His breath is a series of frantic gasps, as the hands at my waist tighten. The muscles in his face go rigid. "Touch y-" With a low cry, he begins to come.
I know he meant for me to touch my cock... to get myself off, but I get lost in the feel of him coming. I focus on every tremor in his body as he shoots inside me, still fucking me hard. There's something so raw and elemental in the way he looks when he comes. My own arousal is nearly overwhelming, but I push it aside as I enjoy his orgasm, memorize the feel of his muscles slowly going lax with languid pleasure.
Keeping my hand braced on his chest for balance, I gently squeeze his slowly softening cock with my ass.
Walter emits a weak whimper, then he tries to focus on me. "Alex, you..." He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks at me again. His mouth opens, then closes again. Then he says simply, "Tell me."
I wasn't even aware of communicating something to him, but I realize I have. "I'll wait." I stroke my hand over his chest. "Until tomorrow... the next day... whenever you want it."
His eyes narrow and he looks at me assessingly. "You chose not to come, because..."
The words come without thought, born out of the intense connection between us. "Because I wanted it to be yours. Wanted you to know that my pleasure is so much more intense... it's truly complete when it's yours to control. It's always complete when it's yours to grant. But I finally see it's also complete when it's yours to deny."
Walter watches me thoughtfully, his breathing giving away a renewed arousal. Then, with a short jerk of his thighs, he tosses me toward his chest, catching me as I fall on top of him. "God, Alex, if you start feeding my natural sadistic tendencies..." He doesn't complete the sentence, but his arms close around me and he kisses the side of my neck.
I rest on his chest, my breathing still rapid with lust, my cock painfully hard. "I'm occasionally surprised by how much I like your natural sadistic tendencies." And I do. It feeds something in me... something that has helped me find something unexpected... peace.
I've been running at a slow simmer all day, watching Alex deal with the sexual restriction he asked for himself. Just thinking about it made my own cock hard all evening. At dinner, Abby noticed the tension between us and concluded that we're fighting.
I haven't teased him much, so far avoiding the temptation to grope him or myself to turn him on even more. But we've been quiet all night and the silence speaks of both of us thinking about his need. And the wonderfully titillating denial of that need.
The anticipation is turning me on massively. But the wait is so damned good. In a way, we're in the same place. Both hot and wanting. But, in another way, we're not. Because I'm pulling the strings. His release is mine to grant or withhold. I can have mine the second I choose.
After we brush our teeth and crawl into bed, Alex takes a steadying breath before moving close and settling next to me. He closes his eyes on a pained expression as his hand touches my abdomen and he rests his head on my shoulder.
I pull his face toward me for a quick kiss. Then, releasing him, I put pressure on his shoulder, pushing him down.
As he moves down the bed, he looks up at me, the heat in his eyes tinged with pain. When his face is near my crotch, his tongue darts out to lap away a drop of pre-cum. He lavishes attention on my cock before sucking the head into his mouth. Taking a great deal of time, he slowly works half my cock into his mouth. Then he seems to lose patience and quickly takes me the rest of the way, moaning his pleasure around my dick.
Cupping the back of his head, I fuck his throat energetically. I'd planned to take it slow, but I find I'm no longer capable of it. The evening's tension demands release. The utter selfishness of it just makes the victory more desirable.
For both of us.
The intense lust that I feel for him seems to stimulate every cell in my body.
Rather than hear, I can feel his pleasure sounds as they vibrate through my dick. In the moment, it seems that his mouth is the perfect instrument for my pleasure. It surely cannot exist for any other purpose.
He vigorously tongues the underside of the head, as I pull out and push back inside. The clutch of his throat yanks me into a brutal climax. I hold his face to my crotch as I come in his mouth, my body trembling with the almost-too-intense explosion of sensation.
As I feel my body sinking into the sheets, I withdraw my cock and pull Alex back up my chest. "Thank you," I whisper.
He nods and places a gentle kiss on my chest before settling back in our going to sleep position. I can feel the tension in his body, his erection against my hip. I can only imagine how badly he needs to come and the devotion expressed in every minute he goes without.
"Sleep, Alex." I gently stroke his hair. "And dream of me. Of all the ways I might make you come tomorrow."
A shudder flows through him.
"Will I bend you over the kitchen counter? Throw you on the rug and fuck you face to face?"
His fingers clench into my chest, then he forcibly relaxes them.
I apply more pressure with my fingers and give him a vigorous head rub. "Demand that you jack off for me in the shower?"
Despite the head rub, his breathing has accelerated, but he says nothing. Bringing his hand up to my face, he lightly strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers.
"Or shall I keep you naked in my shop all day... taking your ass whenever I choose. Stroking your cock. Sliding my fingers into you. Having you get on your knees and suck me. Keeping you on edge all day... a hair away from coming, until the only thing you can think of is what only I can give you. Until you lose control and beg."
He groans as a tremor passes through his body, then he buries his face in my armpit.
I keep stroking his hair and, with a smile on my face, drift off.
Friday, 28 July 2000
"Time to wake up, beautiful."
Before I can open my eyes, the sound of his voice sends a rush of heat through me and I feel my cock start to harden again. Oh, fuck. My nerves are already fried from the tension. Groaning, I blink a few times until I can focus on Walter. He's sitting next to me on the bed. I roll onto my side and touch his thigh, thinking about last night.
After he went to sleep, I lay next to him for a long time, the arousal never abating. Fueled by the smell of him, the feel of his skin. The knowledge that my body is his to control. Torture made sweet because it turns him on.
My dreams were restless. Meaningless faces and actions interspersed with the imagery he gave me before falling asleep.
I snuggle close to his hip, breathe in the erotic smell of his skin, and feel my cock swell to its full hardness. Goddammit.
He takes my hand and moves it to his own erection.
I stroke him slowly, loving and hating this. Because his arousal makes me want. More than I already do. I whimper a protest. Or maybe it's a plea.
His voice, when it comes, is low and rough. "Do you know how much it turns me on to see you like this?"
I squeeze his cock. "I know. I'm not sure I fully understand it." I hesitate. "It turns me on, too." And that's the embarrassing truth.
Glancing at his face, I see that he appears to be almost in a trance. He looks so calm and yet so completely aroused.
His hand closes over mine and he removes it from his cock. "Lie down on your back."
Instantly, I miss the feel of his cock in my hand, but I quickly turn to lie in the requested position.
"Hand above your head."
I feel the blood rush to my cock as I bring my arm up to rest above my head. I move my stump so it's lying at the same angle as the other arm.
Walter watches me, then slowly shifts his body so he's kneeling with one knee on each side of my waist. He lifts his shoulders back and stretches, his muscles flexing provocatively. I forget to breathe for a moment. His hard-on bobs over my chest, out of reach of my mouth, but close enough to make me need to taste him.
He brings his hands to his chest, squeezing his pecs, then ruffling his chest hair. My fingers twitch with the desire to mimic that touch. His eyes are on my face and I feel like I'm lost in the bottomless brown depths.
Arching his back slightly, he pushes forward with his abdomen and a slow ripple passes through the muscles. I groan. The urge to break my position is strong. I want to feel his flesh under my hand. He draws his hands down to his belly, then onto his thighs, brushing them lightly. I'm trapped between those powerful thighs, trapped more by the intensity of his gaze and my own submission to his will. I wait, my breathing erratic, his performance the most insane torment.
He brings one hand up under his balls and rubs his fingers over the surface. His sudden intake of air reveals the ratcheting up of his own need. Slowly, he stretches his balls toward me. His full cock seems to reach out to me, seeking contact.
He's never done anything like this before and I know it doesn't come easily to him. It's such a turn-on. Watching his big, strong hands slide over his firm muscles and smooth skin. I crave touching him as much as I desire being touched by him. The torment is complete. And perfect.
Walter's teasing both of us, and I can see the strain in the taut position of his shoulders. Finally, he curls his fingers around the base of his cock, sliding the ring of fingers up his shaft at a nearly infinitesimal rate.
I envy his fingers and their freedom to touch his powerful body. To stroke his cock. My hand balls into a fist as I restrain myself. I want him so badly.
A look of pained pleasure suffuses his features as he palms his cock and strokes it. The subtle back and forth motion of his hips causes a burning ache in my neglected hard-on and my own hips arch slightly in response. When he rubs the head of his cock, I can almost feel the smooth skin on my own thumb.
Walter's silence intensifies the connection, giving me nothing to focus on but the exquisite torture of not being allowed to touch him.
His free hand roams his chest, settling on his belly. A soft moan heralds his growing pleasure. The hand on his cock works feverishly. He winces, throwing his head back. His knees tightly grip my torso as he begins to writhe.
I groan in tortured ecstasy. My muscles vibrate with the strain of not touching him. He's the embodiment of every sexual fantasy... every sexual thought.
Then, with a jerk of his hips, he begins to come. His face is all contorted pleasure and agonized struggle for oxygen. His tortured, low growl the perfect sound to convey his raw pleasure. Warm semen spatters across my chest. His eyes dart around my face as he tries to keep looking at me, but then he can't do it anymore. I'm unable to breathe as I watch him consumed with pleasure. Head thrown back, he lowers his weight until he's sitting on my hips, gently crushing my desperate cock under his weight. My body twitches, fighting its own need.
Walter does nothing but suck down gasping breaths, each one expanding and contracting his powerful chest. A light veneer of sweat coats his furred muscles. My mouth waters with the desire to taste.
After a moment, he slumps off of me into a lump at my side, his face pressed into my belly. One hand clutches my side while the other finds my hand.
Our fingers intertwine as I struggle to catch my breath, feeling as if I'm the one who just came, despite the agonizing tension in my dick.
Eventually, I scoot down the bed and roll onto my side so we're face to face, our hands still clasped above our heads. I drape a leg over his hip trying to hold him close and stroke his arm with my stump. I'm continually surprised by the feelings he stirs in me.
Walter offers me a tentative smile. "Did you enjoy that?"
"More than you would probably believe." I kiss his chin. "It was also the most incredible torture."
"Oh, yeah," he replies absently. "Good."
"Sadist," I murmur. Something seems a little off. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I just... never did anything like that before." He kisses my forehead. "I didn't make a total ass of myself, did I?"
Never? I know he's never done it with me, but... never? I'm a little stunned, then, if possible, even more turned on. "That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I... it was... you were unbelievably hot."
"Okay," he concedes. "You've got semen on your chin."
"That's not the only place," I reply as I disentangle my hand and wipe the drops away, then suck my finger into my mouth. The taste of him reminds me of the desperate state of my arousal and I have to close my eyes and catch my breath.
When I open my eyes again, he's smiling at me. "C'mon, let's take a shower."
Walter follows me into the shower and soaps me from head to toe, washing everything with exaggerated thoroughness. When he soaps my ass I groan and, unable to resist the sweet sensation, push my ass back, wanting more even though it adds to my torment. Showing no mercy, he gives even my cock and balls and thorough washing. I try to twitch away from the too-sharp pleasure, but encounter the wall. My fingers claw at the tile and I nearly hyperventilate as I wait for him to finish.
Somehow, through the haze of my lust, I notice how happy Walter looks, teasing me like this. And it couldn't be clearer that I'm the reason. It makes me feel almost high.
After the shower and a brief breakfast, he takes me to his shop. My dick has subsided to half-hard, although the sexual tension hasn't abated at all. He arranges the pillows on the window seat, then sits back against them, opening his legs.
My cock begins to get hard again and I close my eyes, willing it to calm down.
"Strip," he says in a gentle tone.
I make short work of my clothes and stand before him, watching him watch me. He never seems to get tired of looking at my body and the intensity of his stare has me at full hardness again.
He slaps his denim-clad thigh, cueing me to sit between his legs. He guides me into the position he wants, with my back to his front. I relax back into his embrace, the feel of my naked body pressed against his clothed one causing my breathing to accelerate. His kisses tease the back of my neck, as his warm hands brush across my chest. I close my eyes, awash in sensation, wondering how long I can endure this.
The answer is simple... for as long as he wants me to.
His hands rub all over my body. It's not overtly sexual, but just the feel of him touching me is more stimulation than I can easily tolerate and yet, nothing could induce me to move away.
"I really like the idea of keeping you here naked." He squeezes my thighs. "A few minor repairs and the fireplace will be usable again. I wouldn't want you to get cold."
Oh no. An idea run amok. But I give a shiver of arousal at the thought of sprawling naked on the window seat while he works. Waiting for him to need to take his pleasure from my body.
"I am really such a prick..." His warm fingers find my groin, touching me aimlessly. "... but you're mine and I can't think of any good reason why I shouldn't enjoy myself."
My body burns at his words. "Not any..." I gasp at the sensation in my cock. "...bad ones either."
Walter chuckles into my ear. "It will be beautiful here in the Winter. We can fuck in the snow." He cups my balls and squeezes them very lightly.
For a moment, I cannot think because of the surge of pained pleasure at his light touch. I distantly hear my own whimper. What was he saying? Oh yeah... "Snow. Sure."
"Or we could climb to the roof and fuck on the chimney," he whispers, as his fingers close around my cock.
"Good idea," I mutter inanely as I simultaneously try to thrust against his hand and pull away from it. The sensations are too acute and I realize I'm shaking.
"I could install trapezes and we could fuck in the air." He encircles my cock with his hand.
My fingers clench in his thigh. "'Kay." All my focus is on not coming. Now.
"Tell me," his voice is suddenly very low, very serious, "how badly you want me to move my hand."
"Need it... so much... please." I struggle to breathe, to concentrate on speaking. "Please, Walt... need... hurts." I whimper like a distressed animal, fighting to stay still, to not come.
He kisses my neck. "I'm going to stroke you twice, then you're going to come."
I groan—half protest, half relief—unable to do anything but quiver in his arms and wait.
The first movement I feel is his mouth, under my ear. A gentle bite. Then his hand moves up my shaft. The sensations are nearly painful and I make a strange, choked sound deep in my throat. His teeth sink into the side of my neck, as his hand completes the first stroke.
I'm unable to hear or see anything. My entire world is his hand on my cock and his teeth in my flesh. My body twitches with the exertion of not coming.
The pain of the bite surges as his hand begins the second stroke. My body goes rigid, waiting for him to complete the motion, waiting for its release. The pain and pleasure coalesce into white-hot sensation as he completes the stroke and I begin to come. The pain of the bite stays with me as my body jerks helplessly in his arms, consumed by the long-denied pleasure.
As the sensations abate, my body becomes heavy and I sag against him, trembling uncontrollably. My softening cock is exquisitely sensitive, clasped gently in his hand. His lips are brushing across the hot spot on my neck.
Releasing my cock, he closes both arms tightly around me.
Alex's body is a puddle in my arms. Too perfect.
My cock is hard, but Alex is too exhausted to do anything. I could jerk off, but there's no harm in just being turned on. Feels good.
He really lets me take him all the way... to the edge of insanity. At the rate we're going, we may actually use trapezes one day.
I continue to be surprised by my own sadism. And even more by what I did earlier. Showing off my body that way... I didn't think I had it in me. In truth, I felt slightly silly, but the intense eroticism of Alex's face kept me in the mood.
Life with Alex is so damned good.
Nevertheless, the future is looming. We need to talk about it. But I can't bring myself to start a conversation about the ugly facts of the world outside when we're ensconced in our wonderful sanctuary.
It has to be done.
Two days. Two more days. Then we'll go somewhere else and talk.
Saturday, 29 July 2000
Using the handle of a screwdriver, I knock the lid back into a can of putty.
"May I ask a question?" I turn to find Duncan, perched on a large rock in front of the guesthouse, eying me cautiously. The building, where Abby and Duncan live, has a small greenhouse in need of repair. Abby asked Alex for funds to repair it, but I volunteered.
"Sure," I reply, tossing the can back into my cart.
I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't: "Why does Mr. Spencer have his initials tattooed on his, um, private area?"
I gape at the boy. "His initials?" He must mean mine, but...
Duncan bites his lip, then glances away. "You have, um, seen it?"
"Uh, yeah. How did you...?"
He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "He was sleeping in the windowsill yesterday afternoon."
I'm grateful Duncan didn't come by earlier. When we were making Alex sleepy. I try to recover. "It's not his initials."
"My Geudam," his grandmother, Abby, "...told me his middle name is Scott," Duncan replies in a doubting tone.
That's news to me. William Scott Spencer. WSS. My initials. Alex bought the house in 1996, so the alias has to be at least that old. I smile to myself at the sentimentality of it. Alex probably didn't even realize he'd done it.
Alex chooses that moment to ride over. He sets his kickstand and poses languidly by his bike.
I put an arm around his shoulders and smile mischievously. "Duncan was just asking me why you have your initials tattooed on your hip? I thought I'd let you answer."
The look Alex gives me is pure confusion. Then comprehension fills his eyes and color suffuses his cheeks. But he manages to paste a blank expression on his face when he looks back at Duncan. "It's just a coincidence. It's the symbol of a very, uh, exclusive club I joined."
I'm sure my laughter doesn't help him stop blushing.
"Oh, I thought maybe it was an American thing," says Duncan.
Alex is still struggling to control his blush. "How did you know about my tattoo?"
Duncan mutters to his feet, "I saw you sleeping in the window of the utility house, yesterday." He meets Alex's gaze. "Grams already grounded me for going up there. I promise not to do it again."
Alex makes some sort of vague noise and Duncan takes it as his opportunity to escape. I notice Alex is looking at everything but me, though he eventually meets my gaze. "I truly didn't realize."
"C'mon, let's go wash up." I pat him on the ass. As we start toward the house, I wrap an arm around his waist. "Did you know that members of the Walter Skinner fan club have to offer, um, gratuities?"