Exigency by Zoe Takashi & Louise Wu

Authors: Zoe Takashi & Louise Wu,  Email Us
Website: http://slashfactory.com/
Series: Exigency. Previous part: Yield1.

Exigency: Yield
(ek-'si-gen-see)
noun: urgent requirements, exacting want or pressing needs.

Starring:
Zoe Takashi as Alex Krycek.
Louise Wu as Walter S. Skinner.


Part 2


Falls Church, Virginia
Sunday, 29 May 1994
4:30 P.M.

Late afternoon, there's a tap on my apartment door. I open it to find Nick. With all the events of the weekend, I had forgotten I agreed to see him today.

I stand back so he can enter. As soon as the door is closed, he wraps himself around me and presses a kiss against my lips. I'm still for a moment, then push him away.

He watches me, then sighs. "So, this is it, huh?"

I find myself nodding my head, even though this is not what I had planned.

"Well, when you get tired of him, call me."

I can't stop the brief flash of surprise from showing on my face. I know I haven't given him any clues about Walter.

"Oh, come on, Alex. If it was just my more 'irksome' habits, you'd have dumped me after the first night," he grins, "baby."

I hear my teeth grinding.

Nick begins to laugh. "You're so cute when you're upset, baby."

Fortunately, he lets himself out before I'm tempted to strangle him.

**

Washington D.C.
Monday, 30 May 1994
8:42 P.M.

My workday was complete chaos.

Mulder's in trouble again. Missing in action. Smith is all over it. I'd say he's almost panicking. Hard not to enjoy it.

Seeking relief from the madness, I escape to the gym.

Sitting in my car in the parking lot, I take a few deep breaths and put the fiasco out of my head. There's something I want to do before I work out. Retrieving my cell phone, I dial the number.

"Yeah."

"It's Walt."

There's a pause. "Hi." His voice is lower and huskier. "I don't suppose the gods are being kind to me and you're in the neighborhood?"

My turn to pause... hard not to be affected by Alex in full seduction mode. My workout suddenly seems like a really bad idea. "I don't know where you live, Alex, so I can't say, but..." It's only then that I realize my cock is hard. It wasn't when I dialed. "... actually I was calling about Wednesday. Are you busy?"

He chuckles. "No, I'm not busy. Do you want to come here? Or meet somewhere?"

"I was thinking of getting a room... I mean, a decent one." I hope I don't sound as awkward as I feel. "Um, I'd be happy to come to your place, if that's comfortable for you. What do you prefer?"

"Oh, I feel certain I'll be uncomfortable either way... at least eventually." His voice has become downright sultry.

Oh, lord. What am I going to do with this boy?

"You're welcome to come to my apartment if you like."

"All right. Uncomfortable at your place, then. Where do you live?"

"Falls Church. Twelfth and Center. Greenway Apartments, Unit 3. I'm in the last building, upstairs. Umm... did you have a time in mind?"

"7:30?"

"Yeah. I'll probably grab some Thai or Indian on the way home-"

"Alex, I'd like to bring dinner."

After a brief pause, he replies, "Okay."

"Let's make it 8:00 then."

"Sure."

"Twelfth and Center, unit 3?"

"Mm hm."

"I'll see you then."

"Definitely."

"Okay, bye."

"Goodnight, Walter."

I no longer want to go to the gym. My cock is hard and Alex won't be waiting in the locker room. Going home to jerk off seems like the best I can do, but Sharon will be home. Not that I can't masturbate with her in the house, but... I don't want to.

I retrieve my gym bag from the trunk and go inside.


Washington, D.C.
Wednesday, 1 June 1994
6:51 P.M.

The Director's going to kick my ass. I booted his little friend out of my office. My official reason: Smith put an illegal wiretap on Agent Mulder's phone. But I really lost it when he lit into Mulder. That's my job, you son of a bitch.

I can't function with the man hovering over me like a vulture.

Mulder's pissed at me, too. For sending him back to his wiretap jerk-off assignment. If he'd just be a good boy for a few weeks, I could get the Director, and maybe even Smith, off my back. Then I could pass him some unusual cases. We won't call them X-Files.

I've been antsy all day. For another reason entirely.

I must have checked my watch nine times between 5:30 and 6:30. My administrative assistant, Kimberly, recommended a good place for Thai takeout and even scrounged up a menu. I'm acting like a kid... nervous about my date. When I stop to think about it, it makes me laugh.

I stop at 7-11 for beverages. I haven't the slightest idea what Alex likes to drink. I don't believe either of us has ever consumed a beverage in each other's presence. Maybe coffee at work? I buy a six-pack of imported beer, a six-pack of Coke and a large bottle of Evian.

At Gourmet Thai, I pick up my call-in order. Enough food to feed eight people. I don't know what he likes to eat either, so I suppose I overcompensated. I can barely carry it all to his apartment.

I ring the bell with my elbow.

Alex answers the door wearing faded blue jeans, snug black T-shirt and no shoes. His hair is damp and careless. His eyes widen a little as he takes in the load of stuff in my arms. He reaches out and relieves me of half the burden before stepping back so I can enter. "If you work up enough of an appetite to eat all this, well, hell... I may not be able to walk for a week." His tone is mischievous.

I smile at his lame joke. The boy comes right to the point, doesn't he?

After I step inside, he nudges the door closed with his foot.

The apartment is neat and very clean. We pass through the living room to a dining area. The kitchen is a little odd... looks... unused. Mail on the stove. Suits in dry cleaning bags draped across the counter.

We plant the bags on the dining table and I start to remove the drinks. I'm about to apologize for not knowing what he likes when I suddenly remember why I'm there. Two steps and I'm next to him. Extracting the cartons of Thai food from his hands, I place them on the table. Then I reach around his waist and pull him into my arms for a kiss.

His mouth immediately opens under mine, allowing my tongue entrance, as his arms circle my shoulders. His tongue lightly teases the underside of mine. A faint moan issues from his throat and his body rubs against me, his already present erection presses against my hip. My suit pants are feeling a bit tight, too.

It would be so fucking easy to forget about dinner. I slip a hand down his back and onto his ass. We are both rational adults, not sex addicts. I can feel his heart throbbing inside his chest. Surely we can have dinner like civilized human beings before we fuck. He smells so good... that good, clean Alex scent.

He rubs his ass into my hand as he breaks his mouth away and begins kissing along my jaw and down my neck. His voice is a murmur, a vibration against my skin. "Thai is great cold. And if that doesn't appeal, there is a microwave." He begins pushing my suit coat off my shoulders as his tongue traces the outline of my ear before sucking the earlobe into his mouth. Releasing the lobe, he whispers, "I feel like I've had a constant erection for the past five days... I need you to fuck me, Walt... I can't wait."

My good intentions are forgotten in the rush to get my clothes off. During the process, my legs hobbled by my own pants, I nearly fall on my ass. We're both laughing as we finally manage to yank off my briefs. Alex's arms are around me and we stagger to the living room while simultaneously gnawing on each other's lips.

His hands knead my ass and I find the back of my legs up against the sofa. Pulling back a bit, he tugs his T-shirt over his head and ducks around me to sprawl on the couch. Eyes radiating heat, he moves his hand to the fly of his jeans and begins popping the buttons open. His cock strains to escape the confines of his jeans as he finishes working his fly. Alex didn't opt for underwear.

Undulating his body, he slides his hands into his jeans, lifts his hips, and pushes the denim down to his knees. There's a trail of fading bruises along the front of each hip.

When I realize what they are, my first reaction is a rush of pleasure. His body bears marks from my hands. It's an animal reaction... as if to say to other prospective lovers that I was here first. Only after I catch myself smiling at him over the bruises do I stop to wonder if I was too rough with him. But something in the proud jut of his hips tells me he's as pleased as I am about the visible reminders of our first real night together.

Our eyes meet, a silent exchange of emotion, as his lips quirk into a hint of a smile.

I help him disentangle his pants from his legs. Once they are discarded, I reach for his cock, stroking him roughly a couple of times.

He moans as his head arches back and his hips rock up toward my hand. "Fuck, Walter." His voice is gravelly and his eyes are becoming a little glazed. He reaches for my arm, tugging me down onto the sofa.

His cock is very hard. More than ready. I sit next to him and whisper, "Are you sure your ass is up for this? We don't have to-"

The look on his face stops me. He looks appalled and dazed at the same time, just nodding his head. His hand grazes across my stomach before gliding up my chest.

I chuckle briefly, before continuing, "Condom? Lube?"

He reaches for a small door in the coffee table. I squat and retrieve the needed supplies. Standing over him again, I consider positions. The end of the sofa is wide and looks comfortable. I hold out a hand to him. His fingers wrap around mine and he rises. With a hand around his waist, I guide him to the end of the sofa.

I give him a quick kiss, which is admittedly rather lacking in finesse, but we are both too eager to get to the main event. He practically throws himself over the end of the sofa, opening his legs provocatively.

My eyes fall to a round bruise on his ass cheek. I bit him there the last time I had his ass. There's also a neat thumb mark on each of his hips. Perhaps I should be ashamed of the smile on my face, but I am not.

My hands stroke his back, encouraging him to relax, but we're both way too wound up. The more I touch him, the more labored his breathing becomes and the more he writhes against the arm of the sofa.

I put the condom on quickly and anoint my fingers with lube. I don't bother to warm it, just easing two fingers to his anus and rubbing. He groans deeply as the first slides inside him. Impatient, I enter him with the second finger almost immediately. Gasping, he presses back as if trying to capture the fingers and make them go deeper. I feel a faint trembling begin in his legs.

I am consumed with the raw need to put my cock inside his body. He needs it, too. My fingers fuck him as deeply as possible. Eager to rush him along, I carefully ease a third finger into him. My other hand is stroking up his lower back onto his spine, in a pointless calming gesture. There's a hiss of breath and his body frantically moves, urging my fingers to go further.

My thighs are pressed against the back of his, my hips already thrusting, eagerly anticipating the fuck. Alex looks back at me over his shoulder, breathing hard. His voice is rough and uneven. "I need your cock in my ass, Walter. Fuck me." He stretches his legs a little further apart and shoves his ass back against me.

He won't have to ask again. I withdraw my fingers quickly, making sure each one brushes across his prostate. He gasps, and shudders pass over his shoulders.

Then, placing the tip of my cock at his asshole, I push into him. We both groan as I immediately fill him. Usually, I pride myself on my endurance, but there's no hope of that tonight. I begin to thrust into him, pushing hard, but not brutally like the last time.

Apparently unsatisfied with my moderation, Alex begins to shove his ass back onto my cock with his own power. The slap of our two bodies as we meet in the middle is unbearably intense. I reach hastily around his body and locate his cock, which I begin jerking rapidly. My own thrusts increase in speed, and Alex follows my lead, as we both thrust hard and fast. As my head goes fuzzy with pleasure, and I'm vaguely aware of the sound of male grunting.

A muffled yell reaches my ears as his entire body tenses and then spasms. His ass repeatedly clenches almost painfully around my cock as the orgasm racks his body. I join him almost instantly. My cock explodes and I cry out my own release. After a final thrust, I collapse on top of him.

As soon as I can think again, I hold the condom and withdraw. Not seeing a trashcan, I leave it on the coffee table. On the sofa, I arrange our bodies until I'm lying on my back with him on top of me, head lying listlessly against mine.

I'm a little disappointed in myself. I was determined to treat him like a human being tonight, not a fuck toy. But the man comes on to me like a match to gasoline. Perhaps our only chance to get to know each other will be in between orgasms. It's not the most unpleasant problem to have.

It feels so damned good just being close like this. Nice. Uncomplicated. I thought I'd outgrown the need for simple affection, but I guess not.

Alex's breathing evens out and he begins to move subtly. His hand trails up the side of my body and his lips caress my jaw. "God, Walter, this is going to drive me insane... you're so fucking sexy." His teeth nip at my earlobe, followed by the caress of his tongue.

My hand strokes the curve of his spine. I turn my head to find his mouth and kiss him gently. "You're the sexy one, Alex." I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tightly.

There's a hint of laughter in his voice. "Walter, I think my I.Q. has started to drop because of the lack of blood flow to my brain--it's always in my dick. I'm not doing it to myself... call it whatever you like, but it's definitely you." His tongue has begun to trace patterns on my neck while his hands engage in a lazy, meandering caress of my body.

I want it to be me... that makes him so hot and frantic. "We might both be just a tad sex obsessed." I slide the fingers of one hand up his back and along his neck. Then I start exploring his hair. It's soft and silky. I guess I miss hair a little. I always enjoy touching it.

"Umm... yeah." His voice has become a breathy murmur. The simple touch on Alex's head has the strangest effect. He appears to become boneless. His hands still and he seems to melt. He makes a few, small appreciative sounds but is apparently robbed of the ability to move or speak.

"You like that, Alex." Delighted by its effect on him, I up the ante. Using two hands, I give his scalp a vigorous massage. "What else do you like?"

He moans, turning his head slightly. He struggles with speech for several moments, finally giving up with a throaty groan that vibrates against my chest. After another moment, he takes a deep breath and manages to force some words out of his throat. "You've found my big weakness, Walter. Of course, there's you..." He pauses, taking a few breaths. "It appears that I like everything you do to me."

Alex is not one for clear and specific answers to questions, but I am directly responsible for his current state of mindlessness. I amuse myself with the head rub for a little while longer, enjoying his languid movements. Then I release his head and nudge him to my side, so I can sit up. He rises briefly so I can get my legs on the floor, then sits again, leaning against me.

Time to get to know him. I slip an arm around his waist. "Where'd you go to college?"

He turns his head to look at me, a slightly surprised expression on his face. "Umm... Rice University." His hand begins to idly stroke my thigh.

"Favorite class?"

"I took two classes in poetry. I think those were my favorites." He sounds a little hesitant.

"Poetry, huh? I don't have a lot of patience for poetry. I usually feel the poet should get to the point." My hand pats his belly. "But I've read some that were beautiful and others that made me laugh."

"Hmm... You know, I am not sure the content is what I like the most. I studied language... hours and hours of going over the technical nuances and grammatical differences. It's easy to forget the purpose. I liked poetry because of how the poet used words, not so much what they were saying."

"I guess I'm just a plain speaker and feel a little outclassed by poetry."

He chuckles a little. "I just like to read it. I don't think I have it in me to be verbose enough to, uh... wax poetic."

My hand finds his on my thigh, just stroking his fingers with one of mine. "What was your hardest subject in college?"

"Um, Cantonese. I did fine with all the other languages, but just couldn't seem to grasp that one. You?"

I raise an eyebrow at that. "Cantonese? Lord." I squeeze his hand. "Organic Chemistry nearly killed me."

He chuckles. "I'm relieved I never had to take it."

Continuing in the vein of getting to know Alex, I inquire, "What's your middle name?"

He shakes his head. "Do not have one."

"Do you have brothers or sisters?"

There's a pause. "No." His voice went flat... not a happy topic, perhaps?

"And what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Something a little lighter.

Another pause and then he starts to laugh. "I've become partial to Ben & Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch."

I nod my head, as if that tells me everything I need to know about him. I still find myself wondering who this man is but, on the other hand, we seem quite connected... On a physical level, I suppose.

I allow the silence to remain. Not much of a talker, is he? It seems clear he'd much rather fuck.

As the thought passes through my brain, Alex turns toward me, draping his legs over mine and leaning his head against the back of the couch. His hand absently strokes my chest and he looks thoughtful. "What about you, Walter? What do you like?"

Just the question makes me feel turned on again. "I like the way you offer yourself to me. I like it when you get that frenzied look of... desperation. You seem to fight it, but you always lose."

He looks startled and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then snaps it shut. His eyes flick away and there's suddenly a faint flush on his cheeks.

I hesitate, not wanting to embarrass him further, but then say it anyway. "I suppose everyone tells you this, but I love your eyes. They're the most beautiful, clear green. I feel drawn to you by those eyes." I kiss the side of his face.

Alex looks surprised and faintly uncomfortable. "No... have not heard that before. But, umm, thank you." He brushes his hair away from his forehead. Sighing, he returns his hand to my chest, idly running his fingers through the hair and brushing my nipples. "This is weird."

"What?"

"This. Talking. Conversation, I guess. I just realized how rarely I really talk to someone." His mouth curves in a half smile. "And I'm terrible at it." Lips press against my shoulder and he murmurs, almost to himself, "I can speak six languages but struggle with talking." He gives a mirthless laugh and his eyes look a little unfocused.

There's something odd and... even sad about what he's said. I'm not the greatest talker myself... not without an agenda. But it seems strange for this articulate young man to tell me he doesn't know how to talk. "I would like to get to know you, Alex." I slip a hand behind his neck and pull him into a kiss.

His tongue slips out to caress my lower lip before he pulls back. "Okay. But how about over dinner? I'm starving." After swinging his legs to the floor, he looks back at me, grinning. "I have to be sure I have enough energy for that after-dinner poetry reading."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "That wasn't what I had in mind for after dinner... but I am in favor of energy restoration." I wrap an arm around his waist, bringing his slender body upright with me.

Alex's hand wanders to my ass, caressing briefly. "Well, if you insist."

I pull on my shorts and slacks. Alex doesn't appear to notice that he's naked.

In the dining room, the food is lukewarm. Alex moves into the kitchen and starts opening cabinets. He looks perplexed, chewing his lip before there's a flash of enlightenment on his face. "Oh, yeah." Leaning down, he opens a cabinet next to the stove and pulls out two plates.

Fortunately, the forks are easier to find. I serve myself a variety of dishes before Alex grabs my plate, moving back to the microwave. He pushes several buttons and makes a disgusted sound. "If you want warm food, you might want to take over... I think I just reset the clock."

The chagrined look on his face is priceless... like a little boy who can't reach the light switch. I smile at his ineptitude. A couple of tries and I manage to tame the microwave. After removing my plate, I insert his and give it the same treatment.

Taking his plate, he mumbles as we sit at the table. "So much for the alien theory."

"What?"

"I had this theory that there was an invisible alien living in the kitchen who prevented me from being able to find anything or operate appliances. So much for that."

As I take a seat at the table, I catch myself gaping. "Like an extraterrestrial poltergeist?"

He starts laughing. "No. Just a malevolent creature sent here by the Indian take-out place around the corner. I guess it's just the seven digit number thing."

I take a bite of the pad Thai and chew, carefully considering his words. "Oh... The seven digit number thing?"

Alex pauses while he finishes chewing a bite of noodles. "Yeah. I cannot remember seven digit numbers, only ten. So, I always have to remember phone numbers with their area code. It's just a mental block... like the kitchen thing. I can operate complex surveillance equipment but cannot turn on the microwave. The alien cover story is a lot more entertaining than admitting I could not operate a hat if it was located in the kitchen."

I chuckle through a bite of egg roll. "Have you met Agent Mulder? He'd want to meet your alien. Perhaps he could negotiate a détente that would allow you to use your appliances."

"Heard of him, never met him. I don't think my kitchen warrants an X-File." He digs into a piece of chicken.

Thinking of Mulder's last few 302s, I can't help but wonder. "So I guess this means you don't cook?"

He nearly chokes on a bite of chicken and reaches for the big bottle of water. After a few seconds, he finally replies, "I think the appliances have it in their union contract that I will not actually attempt anything cooking related." He waves his fork for emphasis. "I suppose you can cook?"

"I am competent in the kitchen. So if," I didn't want to talk about Sharon, "if, uh, my wife is gone, I can feed myself. Eggs, spaghetti, steak. Nothing extravagant." I close my eyes briefly, regretting that Alex is, in a way, another victim of my marriage and infidelity.

Alex watches me for a few seconds, then resumes eating. We finish the meal in silence. I notice that he carefully avoids any vegetable dishes. After taking one last bite of noodles, Alex takes his plate to the kitchen, returning to stand behind my chair. His hands come over my shoulders and travel down my chest as his lips caress the back of my neck. His voice is a murmur near my ear. "So, for dessert, we have peanut butter or," his hand gestures to the table, then returns to rub across my nipple, "beer."

You're dessert, boy. I think it, but I don't say it. He knows.

I lightly stroke his hand and forearm. When he touches me, it's not the same as anyone else touching me. It's filled with the promise of pleasure, sex and something else I can't name. With the intensity of a brand new sexual experience... I feel like I have the libido of a twenty year old around Alex. Inspired by Alex.

It's already clear that I'll get it up again. And soon. I growl as his hand slides down my abdomen. I allow my head to fall back and rest against his chest.

Alex's hand moves to the back of my neck, supporting my head as he leans forward, his mouth finding the front of my throat. His lips and tongue mark a path to my ear, then across the side of my face. The other hand lightly brushes my cock a few times and then moves up to stroke my nipple. His lips come to rest on the top of my bald head as his hand stills. He straightens up suddenly. "I have an idea." He releases me and steps away.

"Huh?"

I notice he has the beginnings of an erection. He rummages around in a kitchen drawer for a second and triumphantly produces... a package of crackers? Returning to me, he opens it and offers me a saltine.

"What's this?"

He grins at me. "Dessert. Come on, Walter, just one cracker."

I give him a dubious glance, but reluctantly take the cracker. Not expecting much to begin with, I'm not at all surprised that it's rather stale. After I eat it, he grabs a bottle of water and hands it to me. I toast him with the large bottle and take a swig, passing it on to him, so he can wash down 'dessert.'

What was the point of this bizarre ritual? I have no idea. "Alex?"

"Hmm?"

"Next time I'll bring dessert. Okay?"

"So skeptical. Come join me on the sofa?"

I rise and take advantage of the opportunity to touch his ass. Just allowing my fingers to wander over the smooth, pleasingly warm contours. As soon as I pause, he leads the way back to the living room. I start to take a seat, but he tugs at my arm so I remain standing. Both of his hands move to my fly. He unzips it and drops to his knees to lower the pants and my shorts, holding them for me to step out.

He tosses my clothes on a chair. I wait silently... waiting to see what he's up to. Gesturing to the couch, he murmurs, "Have a seat. I will be right back."

I sit back on the sofa and watch him disappear down the hallway. He returns a few seconds later, one hand behind his back. Coming to stand in front of me, he looks contemplative for a moment. He finally shrugs and straddles my legs, sitting back on my thighs. "Okay, close your eyes for a sec."

I reach my hand out and stroke his chest. Giving him a half smile, I close my eyes.

There are a few subtle noises I can't identify, then his hands are at my chest, traveling along my ribs and brushing across my nipples. I enjoy the touch but I miss the sight of him. Looking at Alex is such an incredible experience. My fingers move upward to the side of his face. It's almost smooth; he must have shaved tonight.

Alex ceases his lazy caress of my chest, moving one hand to my back, the other to my face. His fingers nudge my lips apart, and I swipe one with my tongue. Body twitching, he coaxes my lips a little further apart. He shifts and his lips settle on mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, covered in something warm and smooth. It tastes like coffee... no, it's chocolate. Really good chocolate. Or maybe, mediocre chocolate with the taste of Alex. It's sensual and smooth, and my tongue slides over his, seeking more of the flavor. Once he is licked clean, I enter his mouth looking for more.

A moan rises up in his throat as I gather the chocolate from his mouth. Without speaking, and with my eyes closed, the taste of the chocolate and the feel of his body are more vivid. I wrap my hands around his hips and pull him closer. He's a big man, but his waist feels small in my hands. His erection presses into my belly and he writhes against my thighs.

Alex pulls his mouth away, gasping. "So I guess you liked it?"

"Kissing you is incredible, but the chocolate was nice, too." I kiss his collarbones, one at a time. "Please explain the saltines?"

He chuckles. "To cleanse the palate. Chocolate tastes all wrong after Thai."

I feel the broad smile on my face. "May I open my eyes now?"

"Mm hmm."

Alex looks quite sexy on my lap, his eyes heavy lidded and his face flushed. I wonder if he knows how beautiful he looks.

I kiss around the base of his neck. "Do you have a full-length mirror?"

"Uh, yes."

"In the bedroom?"

"Yeah. The closet doors are mirrored."

I lightly slap the side of his leg. "Take another bite of that chocolate, then take me there."

Alex reaches for a black and red paper-wrapped bar and breaks off a chunk. He slips it into his mouth, then crawls off my lap.

**

Standing next to the couch, I watch Walter rise to his feet. He really is incredibly sexy. I have the urge to tell him but I cannot say anything because of the chocolate slowly melting on my tongue. I am not accustomed to talking to my sex partners about their bodies... or my own. Continuing to squelch a niggling sense of unease, I turn toward the hall and reach back for his hand, guiding him away from the living room.

This whole evening feels surreal. But, despite little warning bells going off in the back of my brain, I am enjoying myself. More than I've enjoyed myself in years... maybe ever. I don't want to think about the inherent pitfalls in this situation. At least not tonight.

Standing just inside the room, I gesture to the floor-to-ceiling mirrored closet doors facing my bed. Walter is still behind me and I wonder what he has planned. I wait for the inevitable feeling of annoyance at having someone in my personal space but it does not come. I visualize Walter sprawled on my bed and my cock twitches... I want him here. How peculiar. Not going to think about it.

My hand, still behind my back, is clasped in his. The Valrhona has now become slippery on my tongue. I wonder why I do everything he asks.

Definitely not going to think about it.

Walter reaches for me, turning my body and pulling me into his embrace. Then, with a hand at the back of my neck, he draws me forward until our lips meet. This time he shares the chocolate, focusing on the kiss. The rich and subtle taste of the chocolate flavors our dueling tongues. His other hand presses my lower back. My cock is trapped between us, enjoying the minor friction created by the slight movements of our bodies.

I want to put my mouth all over him, but am unwilling to relinquish the sensation of his tongue. My hands roam along his back, caressing his ass, as I suck on his tongue, still tasting the bittersweet chocolate. I step backward, further into the room, keeping him pressed to me.

We kiss until I can only taste a hint of the chocolate. Then his kisses trail up the side of my face. He rubs his cheek against mine, and I feel the brush of his evening beard.

With a sigh, he releases my body. His cock is fully hard now. I had always heard that older men couldn't get it up again very quickly. So much for that theory. He takes my hand and walks me toward the mirror.

"Face the mirror," he says softly.

I turn. Walter stands behind me, close enough for his cock to tease my ass. I follow the path of his gaze, our eyes meeting in the mirror. A moment of heat between us, then his glance shifts downward.

I have certainly seen my body in this mirror before--the damn thing faces my bed--and I have to wonder why we're looking at me. Yes, that's my chest, my abdomen, my cock. Yes, I'm turned on, but I don't need a mirror to tell me that.

My gaze flicks to Walter's face. Much more interesting. I cast my eyes along the outline of his body behind mine. On a conscious level, I know that Walter is bigger than I am, but it suddenly sinks home. And I suddenly feel vulnerable. Physically vulnerable. I realize I've never had sex with someone larger than myself. A protective instinct, I guess. So, where is that instinct now?

My body twitches, torn between the desire to throw myself at him and the desire to leave. What are we doing? I glance up at Walter's reflection and see that he has been watching me. And I suddenly feel naked. For the first time, I realize there is a difference between naked and unclothed.

Walter's gaze moves to my mouth, and I'm painfully aware that I've had my lower lip clamped in my teeth. I release it, running my tongue over it briefly. I never used to have a problem with maiming my own lips. A phenomenon specific to Walter's presence.

He steps closer, his body pressing fully against mine, one arm wrapped around my waist. He gently adjusts his cock, so it's nestled between my ass cheeks. Okay, decision made. I am not going to leave this room until he's done with me. His cock feels so good there. I can't help but wiggle a little. I see my expression change. My eyelids droop and my mouth relaxes. Strange, looking at myself like this. There's a sensual smile on his face; he likes it, too.

The hand that isn't holding me reaches up and strokes my hair. He rubs my scalp vigorously. Oh shit, Walter, you should not do that when I'm standing up. Too bad I'm suddenly too mindless to vocalize the warning. My eyes slide shut as I lean heavily against him and my head falls back onto his shoulder. I struggle to prevent my knees from collapsing. His strong arm tightens around me, keeping me anchored against him. There's a good reason why I keep sex partners away from my head. A moan vibrates from my chest.

My dim brain registers his low chuckle. He releases my hair and I manage to open my eyes. His index finger strokes each of my cheeks very gently. I find myself subtly moving into each touch. The intensity of his stare is a little disconcerting. He's very turned on by just looking at me.

He rubs each shoulder briefly, then his hand brushes across my chest. It would be too easy to close my eyes and lose myself in his touch but I want to watch him. His gaze flicks between my face and my body.

When he speaks, it's so low I can barely hear it. "So beautiful."

Beautiful? I know I'm attractive but I have never heard myself referred to as beautiful. It gives me a warm feeling, and I watch my face flush as the sensation sweeps over me.

He pinches one nipple. Then the other. Returning to the first, he pinches harder. I groan and arch into his touch. Fuck, that feels good. Realizing I have hands doing nothing of interest, I reach back and grab his hips, pulling him tight against me.

"Harder?" Walter's voice is so low and sexy.

"Yeah."

His fingertips bite into my nipple. Gasping, I dig my fingers into the cheeks of his ass. What is he seeing? I look at myself in the mirror, seeing my body writhe in his arms. I wasn't aware of moving that much. My chest is flushed. I wonder if it's always like that when I'm turned on. I focus on my chest for a second, seeing a faint sheen of sweat and the muscles clenching as I press into the bite of his fingers.

My hips press back against his crotch, trying to keep his cock between the cheeks of my ass. I rotate my pelvis, reveling in the feel of his hard body. I'm briefly fascinated by the sight of my abdominal muscles working as I grind against him. I force my fingers to relax and slide my hands to the top of his thighs, enjoying the feel of the hair against my palms.

I realize I'm completely out of control. I wonder if he likes that... seeing me so helpless against his touch. I'm not sure I'd like it if that very touch wasn't distracting me so effectively.

Walter's fingers move to the other nipple. Either he's squeezing harder or that nipple is more sensitive. I hiss between my teeth. It hurts, but I push against him--my body again asking him for more.

Eyes locked on mine through the mirror, his pinch gradually grows harder, backing off the instant I start to shake. His finger appears at my lips. I suck it into my mouth, but he removes it and runs the damp finger over my abused nipple.

"Okay?"

"Uh-huh."

His hand leaves my chest and finds my flank. He strokes my skin gently, his face contemplative. Then his fingers tease my belly, brushing against the border of my pubic hair.

I desperately want him to touch my cock. His gaze is focused on his hand, caressing near my groin. I glance at my own face and almost don't recognize myself. Accustomed to seeing an impassive mask when I look in the mirror, I'm surprised to see my face so open and expressive. I almost don't recognize the man whose face clearly shows passion and, oh lord, desperation. Is that what he saw before?

Looking back at Walter, I find him watching my face. I moan and squirm, pressing my hips forward, seeking his hand. I am desperate. Desperate for his touch. He continues the maddening caress right above my crotch, just watching me. Fuck.

"Walter, please..." Oh god, I'm begging now. My lower lip is again caught in the vice-like grip of my teeth. The desperation is more evident on my face. I know he sees it. His eyes seem to burn hotter, appearing almost black. He's enjoying what he's doing to me. And he will make me wait.

Bypassing my needy cock, his fingers reach underneath and enclose my balls. He squeezes gently. My eyes close briefly, relishing the sensation spreading outward from my groin. Then his strong fingers massage my balls, separating them briefly. I whimper as the pleasure mounts and notice that his breathing has become rapid. But I've forgotten to breathe at all.

Releasing my balls, his fingers form a circle around the base of my cock. I groan and my hips jerk against his hand, trying to get him to move it on my cock. Pain breaks through the pleasure and frustration, and I release my tortured lip. Managing to focus for a second, I watch with fascination as a small amount of blood pools on my lip, then winds its way down my chin.

"Walter..." I meant to make a demand. No more teasing. Fuck me. But it comes out as a breathy plea. Please, Walter, please.

Mercilessly, he abandons my cock entirely and reaches to my chin to wipe the blood. When his finger appears at my lips, I suck it clean. He smiles at me in the mirror, looking pleased with himself and with me.

Then his hand moves back down my chest and nears my groin again. Lightly cradling my cock in his fingers, his thumb rubs circles on the head, smearing my pre-cum over the sensitive tip. I hear a sobbing whimper that must be coming from me. Abandoning the image in the mirror, I drop my head on his shoulder, eyes sliding shut. I thrust against his hand, no longer concerned about my complete lack of control.

As a familiar sensation races down my spine, my eyes fly open and I jerk my head up. I can't believe I am this close to coming. I struggle to still my body and more whimpers fill the room. Jesus, those noises are embarrassing. I watch the passion flushed man in the mirror, chest heaving with labored breaths, eyes glazed. And I cannot believe that it's me.

"Oh god, Walter..." Half plea, half warning. I wonder if I would still like being fucked if I've already come, because I don't think I can wait much longer. My cock throbs at the thought. Oh hell, there is an alien in my apartment and I am obviously possessed.

I think he senses how close to the edge I am. His fingers tighten around my cock and slide down the shaft. "It feels so good to touch you, Alex." He's jerking me off firmly, but slowly... too slowly. He starts to thrust behind me, his fat cock gliding between my ass cheeks.

I can't believe what he does to me. I open my mouth to tell him, but only gasps and moans come out. Even though he's stroking me slowly, my climax is perilously close. Talk, Alex, talk.

"Wal-ter... I, uh, Christ... Going to come if you don't stop." My brain zeroes in on the pleasure and nothing else. I can't keep still. "Oh fuck... don't stop."

There's a breath of laughter in my ear as my cock erupts in his hand. The room goes black and I cannot see as the pleasure radiating from my groin fries every nerve ending in my body. I shudder in his arms, struggling to breathe. My knees suddenly collapse.

His arm tightens around me again. "I've got you. I won't let you fall." I relax my hands, which had clenched in the flesh of his ass, and my arms fall limply to my sides.

When my brain can again process images, the mirror shows him gazing at me. I don't understand the look on his face... it's thoughtful and intense with a hint of pain, but it's not about sex. I can't fathom where his mind has gone, but there's something more than fucking here.

I force myself into motion and lift a trembling arm, pulling it out of his grasp so I can stroke the side of his face. I whisper, "Walter... tell me..." I cannot complete my sentence. Tell me what you're thinking, Walter.

He releases my spent cock and holds me still for a moment until my legs seem more stable. "What, Alex? What are you asking me?"

His arm loosens around me. Turning to face him, I press against his body. His demanding cock is hard against my stomach. Before I can speak, his lips are on mine and his tongue enters my mouth for a deep kiss.

Kissing him makes it impossible to focus even though my abused lower lip is protesting. I let myself drown in the sensation of his tongue against mine. When he pulls back, I speak without thinking. "What were you thinking? What are you thinking?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure I have the words. I..." As he trails off, he looks faintly embarrassed. "Watching you come is incredible. I'm... stunned, I guess." It doesn't begin to explain what's going on inside him. And I don't have any idea how to respond.

"I... That was you, Walt. I can't believe how you affect me." The filter between my brain and my mouth is not working. Not wanting to see his expression, I tip my head and trail my lips along the side of his neck, feeling his pulse point against my swollen lower lip.

His hand slides up my lower back, in a soothing gesture, as he emits a soft moan. Then, pulling away, he sits on the edge of the bed. He opens his legs and gestures in between them.

Without a thought, I find myself kneeling on the carpet between his thighs. I run my fingers through the dark hair on his chest, enjoying the novel feel of it under my hands. His eyes locked onto mine, his face in a dreamy daze, he lets me play with his chest for a few moments. Then, impatiently, he intercepts my right hand and moves it to his erection. "Stroke me, Alex."

My hand closes around his cock and I slowly stroke him. After a few moments, I run my thumb around the head of his cock, then push back down his shaft, using more force and applying pressure to the large vein underneath.

Walter's breathing becomes rapid and rough. His face tenses and his eyes, though still open, are unfocused, as if he's seeing something other than me and the room around us.

Most of the semen that got on his hand was smeared on my body but there's still fluid on his fingers. Continuing to stroke his throbbing erection, I use my other hand to capture his and drag the fingers to my mouth.

He sighs contentedly and his eyelids grow heavy. I like that reaction.

I suck on all his fingers, slowly drawing the length of each along my tongue. After sliding my tongue along his palm, I place his hand back on his thigh. I caress his arm as I lean forward and swipe my tongue across the tip of his cock, gathering the pre-cum.

I look up at him with a question in my eyes.

Walter shakes his head. "Just hands."

Hmm... okay. I admit, I like the feel of his heavy cock in my hand and it leaves my mouth free for other things. I stroke more purposefully, increasing pressure and speed as I lean forward and catch one of his nipples in my mouth, sucking on it firmly. He gasps and braces his hands on the bed, hips arching up toward my hand.

Releasing his nipple, I slow and make my touch on his cock feather-light. Walter grunts and rests his weight fully on the mattress. Looking at his face, I see naked lust now mixed with a touch of frustration. I have no doubt he'll put a stop to the teasing if he's really not enjoying it.

I keep the touch light but use my thumb to put pressure on the throbbing vein at my next upstroke. My mouth seeks the other nipple.

His hand finds the back of my head and strokes my hair absentmindedly. Uh, no. If he does that I won't be able to focus.

Pulling back again, I watch his face as I increase the tempo on his cock. Being able to watch him is a definite benefit. He looks so completely in the moment.

I add pressure to my stroking and watch his eyes become narrow slits. Moving my free hand to his balls, I roll them between my fingers. He groans as I squeeze his cock and balls at the same time.

He finds my mouth for a kiss, tongue seeking the back of my throat, but he's too breathless to maintain it for long. Soon, he's gasping for air and just brushing his lips across mine. "Harder, Alex," he demands.

I immediately increase the intensity, applying pressure to the underside of his cock. I lick at his lips then trail my mouth along his jaw and down his neck. Then I suck at the skin right below his collarbone.

Suddenly, his fingers grip my shoulder and his hips push hard against my hand. "Allllexxxx." My name is a raw moan.

Using my teeth, I give his neck a very light bite, taking care not to leave a mark. I jack him off faster and he begins to buck, his hand clenching even tighter into my shoulder.

I know he's at the edge. Pulling back just enough to see his face, the fingers from my free hand slide behind his balls, applying pressure. His eyes are completely unfocused and his breathing erratic. I feel a rush... this sexy man is so lost in sensation because of what I'm doing to him.

He emits a long, slow growl from deep in his chest, then his entire body goes rigid as he begins to come. His eyes close completely and his face is a parody of agony. "Aaaaahhhhh," he cries. His semen is warm on my stomach. As the last of it pours out of him, he mutters, "Fuck," and collapses back onto the bed.

I'm still for a moment, absorbing the experience. I slowly rise to my feet and kneel on the bed next to him. His eyes are closed and he's breathing hard. After watching for a moment, I straddle his hips. I desperately want to kiss him.

Opening his eyes, he focuses on me. I run my hand through the cum on my stomach, then lift it to my lips. Yeah, I like the way Walter tastes. This is starting to become familiar... I like the look in his eyes when I lick semen off my fingers.

He gives me a tired, not completely present smile. I watch him for a moment, noting the way his boneless form is sprawled on my bed. We never talked about how long he could stay, but I imagine he will have to leave soon. I find myself wanting him to stay... enjoying having him in my bed. The strangeness of that is almost enough for me to usher him out. Now.

I compromise and kiss him instead. Leaning over, I trace my tongue along the line of his mouth, stroking the inside of his lips while my hand glides along his torso.

"Mmm." His hands slide up from my waist, kneading my back. "You feel so good, Alex. Too good." Then with a groan, he turns his body and his eyes fall on my alarm clock. 10:43. His face suddenly gets tense and serious. "Shit." He presses his lips to my cheek, holding them there for a moment. When he speaks again, it's almost his A.D. voice. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

I resist the impulse to groan at this news. I drop a quick kiss on the side of his neck before climbing off the bed. Reaching out a hand, I help pull his still relaxed body upright. "Do you want to shower? If so, there are towels in the bathroom... help yourself to anything you need." I'm troubled by the fact that I don't want him to leave. Turning toward the door, I add, "I'll get your clothes."

He starts to say something, then stops himself, shakes his head and starts again. "Thank you, Alex."

I pick up the various articles of clothing, noticing the post-coital detritus in my living room. It's not like me to leave this kind of mess. I lay his suit on my bed, noticing semen on the floor in front of the closet. I shake my head and decide not to deal with anything right now.

Ten minutes later, dressed again in his suit, he joins me in the living room. He holds out an arm to me. Wearing only my jeans, I rise and wrap my arms around him.

He offers a tight smile. "I don't think I have to tell you that I enjoyed myself." His lips brush across my forehead. "May I see you again?"

I try to make my smile a little more relaxed. "I hope so. I meant what I said at the hotel, Walter... anytime."

He nods. His lips find mine again for an intense, penetrating kiss. When he withdraws his mouth, we are both breathless again. Deep brown eyes lock onto mine. "I'm a little out of practice on the... uh, dating thing. I'm counting on you to let me know if I'm doing it wrong." After a heavy sigh, he adds, "I mean..." He winces and looks away for a moment.

I press my lips against his jaw, resisting the urge to laugh. I don't exactly have experience with clandestine relationships. And, apparently, neither does he. There's something here that bears thinking about but since I have avoided everything else tonight, I might as well keep going. I murmur near his ear, "There's nothing to do. Your presence is all that's required." I pull my head back to look at him.

Meeting my gaze again, he says, "Just tell me if I'm doing anything that makes this more difficult for you. Okay?"

Sighing, I nod. "All right. But I think you're the one saddled with all the difficulty." I touch his face briefly. "Just don't wait too long to come back." Fuck, that sounded needy. I certainly meant it, but cannot believe I said it. I fight the urge to cringe.

He presses the side of his face against mine and speaks softly into my ear, "As soon as I can."

I'm appalled by how relieved I am that he will come back. It's just fucking, Alex. Get a grip. I step away after giving him a quick, hard kiss.

And then he's gone.

I close the front door, then lean heavily against it, surveying my living room and replaying the events of the last three hours. I speak to the silence, "Will the real Alex Krycek please put in an appearance?"

After several moments without any profound insight, I push away from the door and start cleaning my apartment.

**

There's hardly any traffic on the streets as I drive home. I ignore the expressway, telling myself that the route is longer. But the truth is that going home doesn't feel good. And the contrast between how it feels being with Alex and how it feels being with Sharon is extreme.

I can't believe what I fucking said. 'I'm counting on you to let me know if I'm doing it wrong.' Of course I'm doing it wrong. I'm cheating on my wife. Fuck. I don't need Alex or Sharon to tell me I'm an asshole. It's not fair to either of them.

But what am I going to do about it? Nothing. Not one thing. Damned if I do, but I can't stop.

There's no question I will see Alex again. It feels almost like a life or death choice. I need the rush of blood pumping in my veins.

Oh, god, tonight. Holding his body in front of the mirror. Did you see what I saw, Alex? A beautiful slim boy, frantic with need. Needing me... my touch.

My hand remembers the satiny feel of his hard-on. My mouth remembers the taste of chocolate and the feel of his tongue. My cock remembers his smooth hand... and his tight ass.

Will I do it again?

Oh, yes. No doubt about it.

**

Washington D.C.
Friday, 3 June 1994
11:38 A.M.

Friday is another long day spent reviewing evidence in the Rose Killer ops room. I spent Thursday in the field interviewing friends and distant family members of the latest victim. Since he was in a high-profile, political position, the senior agents have been dealing with co-workers and close family.

The hectic activity around all the interviews made it possible to not think about the evening with Walter. At my apartment. And the fact that having him there didn't bother me.

But today, the boredom of reviewing a case going nowhere leaves me plenty of free brain cycles to think about a man I fear I'm rapidly becoming obsessed with. Not good. Not good at all.

I'm plagued by the image of us standing in front of the mirror. I cannot prevent my brain from constantly throwing up that picture. Sort of like an annoying song you can't get out of your head. Except the mental image gives me a hard-on.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat trying to squelch my runaway thoughts so I can return my attention to the victim profile. Which I think I've read 900 times. Everyone wants to work a serial killer case... it's supposed to be so exciting and good for your career--if he's caught, that is. No one mentions the tedium of working a case that has no promising leads.

Sighing with frustration, I close my eyes and try to relax. Immediately, I see myself writhing in Walter's arms. I flush with embarrassment... and arousal.

"You okay, Krycek?"

I jump, and open my eyes to see Agent Gough staring at me.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You're just a little flushed. Are you over warm?"

Oh, if only you knew. "No. Just a little frustrated."

She stands and shrugs on her jacket. "Why don't you join me for lunch? You can fill me in on your theory about the color purple."

I roll my eyes, entirely too bored with this joke, and reach for my jacket.

Agent Gough selects a nice small restaurant. The hostess seems to know her and we're seated immediately. We discuss the case for most of the meal, occasionally asking politely benign personal questions.

At the end of the meal, she insists we order dessert. "Krycek, you have to try the frozen yogurt."

"Frozen what?"

She shakes her head, looking resigned. "It's like ice cream, but it's better for you." Well, that doesn't sound very good. "What flavor do you prefer?"

"Whatever... anything's fine."

I only half pay attention as she orders. When the waiter brings it, the smell hits me before I even see it.

Peaches.

I stare at the dessert. Creamy frozen stuff layered with fresh peaches. Immediately, I feel myself getting hard as my brain flashes to Walter. Him bending me over his workbench, slippery fingers caressing my asshole, the faint smell of peaches in the air.

"Krycek, are you okay?"

Remembering where I am, I glance up at Gough. "What? Why?"

"You're kind of flushed again. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes... yes. I'm fine. This looks, uh, good."


Falls Church, Virginia
Sunday, 5 June 1994
1:32 P.M.

After lunch, I decide to take a ride. Mostly to work off what seems to be a perpetual excess of sexual frustration. I bring my bike in from the patio and fill up my water bottle. As I'm reaching for my T-shirt, the phone rings.

I throw the shirt over my shoulder and reach for the phone, half expecting it to be my real employer. It's been too long since he disrupted my life. There's really only one person I want to talk to. "Yeah?"

"It's Walt."

Yeah. That's the one. So much for my resolve to be more detached. "Hi."

"Are you busy?" His voice is gentle, almost hesitant.

Uncomfortably realizing that I would change any plans I had if he wanted me, I try to make my response light and neutral. "Well, I was thinking of negotiating a truce with my blender but it's not a high priority."

"I've got an hour or so... right now, if you're available."

Only an hour? Fuck. "Are you close, or would you like me to meet you?" Shit. My only consolation is that my voice did not sound as desperate as I actually feel.

"I'm ten minutes away, but, Alex... I'll have more time later in the week. I don't intend to insult you by calling at the last minute with so little time..."

Does he think I'm going to be offended? I laugh a little. "I'm not insulted, Walter. Come over."

"I'm on my way."

Well, I guess there's no point in putting on the shirt. I was half-hard just hearing his voice, but remembering the last time I wore these shorts, I feel my cock come fully, and painfully, erect.

Twelve minutes later, I hear a tap on the door.

I open it and find a jeans-clad Walter bearing a hint of a smile. Oh my, he looks good in denim. I usher him inside, quickly closing and locking the door.

He hands me a small bag. "Put this in the freezer."

I'm halfway to the fridge before I look. Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. It makes me smile. I'm surprised he remembered. He comes for a quick fuck and brings me a present. Speaking of a quick fuck... I toss the carton in the freezer and dart back to Walter.

His powerful size and definition are emphasized by the snug jeans and form-fitting dark blue Henley. I stare at him and mutter, "Good look for you," then immediately find his mouth with mine. I tug his shirt out of his jeans.

He tries to speak in between kisses. "I guess this," he nibbles my upper lip, "means you," he nips at my tongue, "want to fuck."

"Uh-huh," I mutter into his mouth, wholly uninterested in speech at the moment.

Walter shrugs and grinds his hips into mine. His lips move upward across my nose and to my forehead. His large, graceful hands grope for the waist of my shorts. Yanking them down, he groans in my ear. "We could go for a walk or have a nice chat."

I bite at the side of his neck and, in a surprisingly calm voice, reply, "Oh, okay." My hands invade his shirt and slide up the muscular planes of his chest. I moan at the feel of his chest hair under my palms, pull away long enough to yank the shirt over his head and kick away my shorts. My mouth finds one of his nipples, sucking and rolling it on my tongue as I work the fly of his jeans.

Pulling my head away from his chest, I look up at him. "Which would you prefer? Walking or talking?"

His hand starts at my cheek, brushing gently against my skin, down my neck, across my chest, teasing one nipple, tickling my stomach and finally encircling my cock. I groan at the tingling sensations left in the wake of his wandering hand. Every time he touches my dick, it feels like I'm at the brink of orgasm.

"Let's walk to your bedroom and talk about your favorite position to get fucked."

Good answer, Walter. My last coherent thought as all the blood rushes out of my brain and pounds in my dick. I grip his shoulders, feeling a little light-headed.

Walter toes off his Nikes and wraps an arm around my waist. He guides me down the hall. Releasing me, he turns down the bedcovers. "Lube? Condoms?"

While I grapple with the bedside drawer, Walter shucks his jeans. Underneath he's wearing a pair of dark blue boxer briefs... that cling to his generous cock and balls. I feel my breath hitch at the sight and stare at him, savoring the vision with my jaw hanging open. Groping blindly, I retrieve a condom.

His eyes flick to mine and he tracks my gaze back to his crotch. Giving me a shy smile, he casually gropes himself, brown eyes never leaving mine.

My breath hisses out between my teeth and my questing hand finally comes up with the lube. Tossing the bottle and condom on the bed, I close the short distance between us. I slide to my knees, murmuring against the hand over his crotch, "I think I could come just watching you touch your incredible body, but I want to touch you too much to find out." I slide my hands into his briefs, squeezing his ass before pulling them down. Nudging his hand away, I take a breath and swallow his cock.

"Uhhhhhh huhhhh."

All higher brain function ceases at the feel of his heavy erection sliding across my tongue and invading my throat.

He touches the side of my head, fingers finding a hold in my hair. "Fuck," he manages to gasp. His tone suggests his brain function has also taken a nosedive. I can see his knees weaken and those muscular legs waver.

Not wanting to stop, but also not wanting to see us wind up in a heap on the floor, I pull my mouth off his cock and break away. Walter looks a little confused. I shift my position while pressing on his hip to turn him. He sits heavily on the bed and I crawl forward between his legs to take him back into my mouth. I hold him in my throat for a moment, relishing the feel of the heavy vein throbbing on my tongue and his musky, masculine smell.

His hand grips my hair again. He's not trying to control the blowjob, just holding on.

Of their own accord, my hands wander up his thighs and circle around to grab his ass as my mouth slides up and down his shaft. I back off a little to suck at the head, swirling my tongue around before teasing at the slit, gathering his pre-cum on the tip of my tongue.

An obnoxious beeping sound comes from somewhere in the room. Still sucking him, I glance around and identify his pants as the source of the irritating noise.

Walter groans. Though his eyes are still dilated by lust, the expression on his face is extreme disgust. His hand releases my hair and slips to my shoulder. "My cell phone," he says, pushing me away from his groin, "I'm sorry I have to take it."

I growl low in my throat as I pull away and crawl the short distance to his pants. After extricating the phone from a pocket, I toss it on the bed next to his hip. I bite my lip in frustration. One hour... only one fucking hour and the phone has to ring.

He takes a deep breath before answering the call. "Skinner." After listening for a moment, he replies, "Will do." He scoots to the top of the bed, leaning against the headboard. Apparently on hold, he rolls his eyes at me. His cock has subsided to half hard.

I am not liking this.

Eventually, he speaks again in his Bureau voice, "Yes." His face gets serious. "There's very little to report." After a heavy sigh, which was probably heard on the other end, he replies, "There are some improvements in the profile." His body begins to reflect even less sexual enthusiasm.

I think not.

After climbing on the bed, I slide up next to him. Resting on my stomach, I press my face against his hip. It's a good thing he cannot see my expression because I know my grin is evil. Hey, I only promised to behave myself at work.

I brace one arm on either side of his legs as my head dives for his crotch. I slide my mouth along the length of his cock and suck him inside.

He suddenly gasps and turns it into a phony cough. Instantly, his fingers are in my hair again, this time yanking me brutally off his cock. Whiplash is a possibility. "No, ma'am, I'm fine. Just a scratchy throat," he says as he glares at me. That look could cut through metal.

I barely manage to suppress a grin and wiggle down the bed, closer to his feet. He relaxes a little and my lips twitch. I wait a moment, then lean down, sucking two of his toes into my mouth.

Shaking his head, his body sinks down into the bed, as if trying to hide. His knee twitches. As does his cock. Sensitive feet.

"He's not a genius. We think he's just very neat and very lucky."

I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes... I spend all week dealing with the Rose Killer. There are only a few women he could be talking to and it's likely to be the Attorney General. One of the last people I ever expected to interrupt me giving someone a blowjob.

His eyelids are heavy--from my ministrations, I assume--and his crinkled forehead suggests exasperation--the phone call, most likely. "I understand that you have a political problem, but we are trying to solve the case. And as much as I'd like to tell you we have new evidence, we don't."

Turning my attention back to more interesting matters, I remove my mouth from his toes and slide my tongue along the arch of his foot. I have never considered feet an erogenous zone but I'm reconsidering my stance based on Walter's quivering responses. He tosses me another acid glare, but is too occupied to object more strenuously. At least I won't have to part with any hair this way. I slide my fingers lightly along the bottom of his foot, watching his face.

"I understand." Those brown eyes seem to melt... he looks stoned, but annoyed at the same time. The A.G. is ruining my fun here. "Yes, ma'am, but I can't manufacture progress on this case."

I'm torn between feeling sorry for Walter and wanting to rip the phone out of his hands. My teeth find the fleshy underside of his foot and scrape along the sensitive skin. I turn my attention to the other foot and give it the same treatment. At least he's still mostly erect.

"I understand. I'll take care of it right away." His other foot is even more sensitive. It starts to rapidly vibrate under my tongue. "I'll have it on your desk by 9 A.M." He makes a face and pushes a button on the phone. Thank god.

I crawl up the bed and reach for his cock.

Bending a knee, he places a foot at my sternum and pushes me back. Then the bastard presses more buttons on the phone. Oh, enough. I cannot believe I have been dismissed by a foot.

"This is A.D. Walter Skinner. I need you to connect me to BSU Unit Manager David Johanssen. It's an urgent matter, so contact him at home or wherever you have to."

I slide off the other side of the bed and settle on the floor, knees bent against my chest, head resting against the mattress. Not prepared to deal with another foot rejection, I let my eyes drift shut and listen to Walter talk on the phone.

"Yes, I'll hold." He presses another damned button. "I can't fucking believe you deep-throated me while I was on the phone with the Attorney General." I've only heard that disciplinary voice once before--when he reamed out Mathis.

I sigh and shake my head. Sounds like a dream come true to me. I think having someone's lips around my dick is the only palatable way to get through an encounter with the Attorney General. I do not want to think about his annoyance, because if I do, I will object to him talking to me that way in my own house. Opening my eyes, I glance at him.

He rubs his forehead with fingertips, as if trying to eradicate a headache.

Taking a deep breath, I hold it for a several seconds trying to blank my mind. I'm going to have to ride for hours to erase this frustration.

Responding to something he hears, he presses a button again. "David? It's Walter. We've got a political problem." He says the word political as if it's a disease. "The Attorney General told the President's Press Secretary we've made progress on the Rose Killer. Now we've been asked to report on our 'progress.'" His voice is resigned. He's obviously had to deal with crap like this before. "I know, David. Calm down. I told her there's nothing we can do except review the dead leads and update the profile."

I turn my head back to face the wall and shut my eyes again. I have a better idea. Why don't we invite the A.G. to the next crime scene and let her slip around the vic's intestines? Then she can help us find new dead leads.

"C'mon, David. You've been through these fire drills before. Just get together with the team and revise the damned profile." After a very long pause, he adds, "9 A.M. tomorrow. I'll send the courier over with Baker's report. ... Yeah, at 7 A.M. ... Okay. ... Send me a copy, too. Bye."

I hear the sound of weight shifting on the bed, then a hand is on my shoulder. "You pissed off at me, Alex?"

Am I pissed? With a sigh, I reply, "I rather thought it was the reverse, Walter."

He slips off the bed and squats on the floor in front of me. "Not really." His grin is half apology. "But you did deep throat me while I was talking to the A.G." His fingers run through my hair affectionately. "I apologize for the interruption. It goes with the job, but I do want to give you my full attention."

I don't know how to respond, so I say nothing. Deciding I do not want to deal with whatever went wrong here, I straighten my legs and lean forward, sliding a hand up his thigh as my tongue slips out and flicks across his nipple. I feel a little distant, but still want to do this.

"Your blowjobs are too damned effective." He kisses the top of my head, then wraps his arms around me and whispers in my ear, "Tell me what you need, Alex."

My brain is a jumble of disconnected thoughts I do not wish to explore. Not wanting to go any further down the path started by the phone call, I suck at the skin along his collarbone before replying, "Forget about the last fifteen minutes and fuck me, Walter."

He pulls away from me a little and meets my eyes. After a moment's assessment, his face softens a bit and he kisses me. His tongue is gentle at first, but after moaning into my mouth, he ups the ante and gives me one of the possessive kisses I've come to crave. The touch of his mouth and tongue bring me harshly back into the moment, painfully aware of the needs of my body. I arch up, pulling him harder against me. I work a hand between us and find his cock, caressing with long, rhythmic strokes.

He's fully hard. I guess I turn him on enough to counteract the effects of the conversation with the A.G. His eyes fall closed and his shoulders tremble a bit. After thrusting into my hand a few times, he reaches out to grasp my wrist, halting my movements. "No more," he says breathlessly. "On the bed."

We rise, and Walter pushes me onto my back. Then he straddles my legs and lowers his body onto mine. Our cocks press together and I move against him, gasping at the sensation.

I pull his head down for another kiss, opening my mouth under his, then sucking his tongue. Keeping one hand at his head, I slide the other down his back and grab his ass, kneading the firm flesh.

He breaks the kiss and gazes down at me intently. "So what is your favorite position for getting fucked?"

It's on the tip of my tongue to reply that I have not experienced very many, but I manage to stop myself. Definitely want to stay away from that conversation. I realize my mouth is open and nothing is coming out. Snapping my jaw shut, I struggle to come up with something. "I would be hard pressed..." I cannot completely suppress a grin at my own bad joke, "to pick a favorite, Walter."

He gives me a knowing look and I'm positive he can read my mind. He knows he's the only one I let fuck me. Then he smiles and the moment is gone. I wonder what he knows... how well he can read me... a terrifying thought.

Rolling off to my side, he kisses my face. Then his lips trail down my chin, onto my neck and he sucks my collarbone. Terrifying thoughts are forgotten at the feel of his mouth on my skin. "Mmm," he mumbles, as if I taste good. "On your side, then." Easing himself away to make room, he gestures for me to shift to my side.

I thought I'd fucked in every possible position, but not this one. I turn away from him, my butt trembling slightly with anticipation. Warm hands trace down my back, touching lightly. I moan and press back, wanting to feel his hands on my ass.

Then he slides in close behind me, arm wrapped around my waist. "Bend your knees," he whispers.

My heart sets up a rapid tempo in my chest as I pull my knees up, exposing myself to him. Some part of me feels vaguely uncomfortable, but it's easily forgotten in the feel of Walter's body pressed against mine. My restless hands feel useless. I can easily touch the arm around my waist, so I stroke it lightly. My other hand reaches back to trace the line of his hip.

His free arm slips under my neck, fingers brushing lightly across my pecs. His lips find the back of my neck, nibbling and biting gently.

Gasping, I tilt my head forward to give him better access. His lips and skin against my body create a haze of pleasure that engulfs my brain.

The hand at my waist eases across my abdomen and encircles my erection. My hips jerk into his touch. "This feels nice," he whispers breathlessly in my ear.

"Mmm..." Moaning feels like a highly evolved form of speech as Walter's touch robs me of my ability to verbalize. I turn my head toward the arm supporting my neck and caress his skin with my lips and tongue.

My body cannot decide whether to press forward into the hand holding my cock or rub my ass back against his erection. I find myself writhing in his arms, briefly embarrassed by my lack of control, then too immersed in pleasure to care.

All too soon, the hand on my cock is taken away. Large, warm fingers knead my ass cheeks. He nips the skin under my ear as he teases my crack. His hips thrust against me, his hard-on brushing my hip.

I grind my butt against his crotch. Reaching my free arm back, I grasp the back of his neck. Cranking my head around to the point of discomfort, I meet his gaze. I want to tell him how incredible it feels when he touches me. "Walt..." I lose my train of thought and pull his mouth to mine.

He groans into the kiss, his deft fingers still tormenting the tender skin around my asshole. After biting my upper lip gently, his tongue attacks my mouth, executing a devastatingly effective search and destroy mission.

When he breaks the kiss, my eyes flutter open. He's gazing down at me with a warm smile, brown eyes filled with feeling. I'm stunned. I feel so connected to him when we kiss. It's strange to consider that it might be the same for him. I clamp down on the thought, not wanting to go any further. I feel my breathing accelerate and everything swims out of focus.

Walter kisses the side of my face. "You okay?"

Okay? No. But I can't tell him how confused I am about the pleasure I feel with him. "Yeah. I just... It feels so good when you touch me. It's overwhelming." All true, just not the whole truth. I will my brain to shut off.

"Damned good." He kisses my temple. "Relax your neck. Just let me take care of you, Alex." I feel my eyes widen and know he sees the surprise on my face. I quickly bring my expression under control and roll my head back to a more comfortable position. The arm under me slips back and he rubs the nape of my neck.

His words are unsettling, but it is too easy to get lost in sensation and forget my unease. My eyes drift shut and the muscles relax under his skilled fingers. I roll my head a little more, exposing my neck to him.

He takes the bait and his lips find my neck, gnawing gently. Then the heat of his body is suddenly gone.

I torque my neck again, ready to grumble about the loss, when I see he's rolling on the condom. Relaxing back with a whimper, I make a try at patience. Mercifully, his body soon envelops mine again. His hand brushes against my ass briefly, then appears holding the lube bottle, which he deftly opens one handed.

I reach for the bottle and pour some into his hand. He warms it with a slow, sensual movement of his long fingers, before easing them between my ass cheeks.

We sigh in unison as he beings to massage my anus. Tingling sensation spreads out from my ass and seems to caress every nerve ending down to the tips of my fingers. I groan and undulate against him.

I'm hungry for more. I want him inside me. Want the sharp sensation of him stretching me... forcing me open. I manage to gasp out, "Walter, please..."

I hear a soft chuckle, but then one of his slippery fingers enters me. He explores my ass, brushing across my prostate, before pushing a second finger inside.

There's a hiss and I realize it came from me. There is normally a feeling of franticness every time Walter touches me, but I've been lost in the languid pleasure of his caresses. At the feel of his fingers moving inside my body, the desperation comes crashing back.

As much as my limited position will allow, I press my ass onto his fingers. I lift my head to ask him to do it harder when I catch sight of us in the mirror. I groan and drop my head back on his arm. The picture of me desperately wiggling in his arms and on his fingers is burned onto my retinas.

I should be embarrassed, but the vision of Walter's large hand moving against my ass makes my cock throb. I let my mind caress the image of his long muscular legs stretched out on my bed.

As if hearing my unspoken thoughts, he starts to fuck me harder and faster. His fingers scissor inside me, opening me wider. My breath hitches at the feeling of being stretched and prepared for his cock.

The room is filled with the sound of rhythmic grunts in time with the thrusting fingers in my ass. The noises are coming from my throat. Yeah, that is embarrassing.

And then the fingers withdraw and a sound comes from him. A low groan from his chest vibrates against my back.

He shifts his body weight against the bed, adjusting his position.

When the head of his cock touches my anus, I shudder and moan.

This time, when he chuckles, the sound is muffled by his own breathless desire. With excruciating slowness, he pushes the head of his cock inside me.

My breathing stops and I focus on the sensation of him slowly breaching my ass. I take a gasping breath and pull my top leg up toward my chest to give him better access. He pushes into me a little more and, of its own volition, my hand is at my ass, pulling myself open for his penetration.

"Oh, Christ, Alex," he mutters as he continues to enter me. I detect his tension from his irregular breathing. Mere seconds after contact with my ass, he's close to coming. Feeling him so aroused creates a warm, liquid sensation in my stomach. Arousing my sex partners has always given me a feeling of power, but it makes me feel vulnerable to Walter. The realization causes a hot flush to break out over my face and chest, and I find myself gasping. It's like my skin is burning off. I try to remember to breathe as the heat builds in cadence with my arousal.

He fills me so gradually that I have to fight the urge to shove my ass backward. When at last I feel his crotch flush with my butt, he emits a long, impassioned moan. He adjusts his arms around me and just holds me. Unmoving.

I try to keep my body still, but my desperation manifests itself in my head's restless movements. Breathing hard, I roll my head and find Walter watching me. I still and meet his stare. I struggle with my uneven breathing and feel my face heat up even more under the weight of his gaze.

His face reveals lust and something else... concentration. He's consciously regulating his breathing, calming himself. And yet, I feel the rapid beat of his heart where he's pressed against me. When his respiration has eased a bit, a hint of a smile shows on his face.

He pulls back and begins to thrust. It's a gentle fuck. Too damned gentle. But still oddly satisfying. It's like being fucked and held at the same time. I am in unfamiliar territory and I don't even have a clear instinct to tell me what to do. I groan and move my head, pressing my overheated cheek against the cool sheet. He's holding me in his arms, totally in control. 'Just let me take care of you...'

Nobody takes care of me. And I'm certainly not accustomed to giving my body over to someone and letting them take care of my pleasure. I feel panic again. Panic, not because of what he's doing, but because I want him to do it. Oh, fuck.

Without thought, my rectum begins clenching around his invading cock.

Walter responds with a desperate moan. He pumps into me steadily. Relentlessly.

I take a deep breath. The air escapes from my lungs as something like a sob. "Please, Walter..."

Suddenly the rhythm of his cock in my ass shifts. Faster, then slower, then faster again. He's lost control for a moment. Then he utters a breathy, "Please what?" Then a shallow gasp is followed by, "Tell me..."

"I... please..." Fuck me until I stop panicking. No... cannot say that. "Please... I need..." This is all wrong... but it feels too good to stop. With every thrust of his cock in my ass, I inch my knee closer to my chest. I am going to have bruises on my ass from my own hand pulling at the flesh. Another sobbing breath escapes from my lungs. "God, I... don't know..." My uncontrolled noises add to both my panic and the desperately escalating desire.

I'm grateful when he doesn't laugh at my feeble attempt to communicate. He does start fucking me just a little harder and a little faster. It's still easy... nothing near the brutal reaming he gave me at the motel.

His hand twitches toward my cock, but he doesn't take it in hand yet. Already, he knows my body well enough to know that it won't take much. With his cock inside me, it never has.

Walter shifts his hips a bit, adjusting the angle of penetration so his cock gives my prostate a deliciously abrasive rub on each thrust. Suddenly nothing exists but his cock in my ass and his arms around me. His breathing is out of control again. I feel the tautness of every muscle in his body. He won't last long. "Fuuuuck, Allleexxx."

A long, slow growl rises from his chest. Suddenly, his hand gropes me, awkwardly trying to find my cock. Instinctively, I move my knee down to give him access. He begins to come at the moment his fingers close around my erection. His cock pulses deep inside me. I gasp and writhe trying to increase the sensation, as he clumsily jerks me off. His body shudders, but he never lets go of me... holding on tight as he collapses into the chaos of his orgasm.

I grab the hand on my cock and hold it still. I teeter on the brink of orgasm and wait, wanting to feel the last tremors rack his body. Unaware of anything other than the body becoming lax against my back, my climax takes me by surprise. His hand squeezes my cock and sharp sensation rips through me. A strangled scream emits from my throat and my shoulder lifts from the bed.

As the world slowly comes back into focus, I find myself breathing hard and curled forward around his hand. During the oblivion of orgasm, I pulled my legs up against my rounded torso, effectively trapping his arm.

The hand wrapped around my cock relaxes, carefully holding my dwindling erection. He curls his body tighter around mine. His free hand begins stroking my hair very slowly.

I gasp as I try to even out my breathing, letting my body relax against his. My hand is still digging into my own hip. I let go and my arm slides back to the mattress. I feel wrung out... unable to think of anything. I'm grateful to have my brainless state enhanced by his hand in my hair.

He eases his hand free of my cock and strokes my butt. It's a soothing gesture that adds to my pleasant state of fatigue. The fingers in my hair massage my scalp.

It takes a few minutes before I realize that he must be late. And yet he's lying here petting me. I give a contented sigh and force myself to move. I roll over and face him. Throwing one leg over his hip, I stroke the side of his face and neck. I stare at him for a few moments before murmuring, "I know you need to go, Walt."

"Shh," he whispers, touching my face lightly with his fingertips. "I'm not going to fuck you and immediately walk out the door." A strong arm slides around my waist, holding me firmly, enforcing his words. His lips find my cheek. "Let's enjoy a few minutes together."

I open my mouth--to protest, I think--but then just close it and nod slowly. I do not know what to make of the situation... or Walter. But I'm too sated and wiped out to have any interest in exploring the inadvisability of this relationship.

I relax against him and let my eyes slide shut. My hand caresses along his shoulder and around to his back.

He pulls me closer so my face is touching his. Neither of us speaks.

I wonder if this is something he's used to. I've certainly never lain in bed like this with someone. I decide to blank my mind and give over to it... at least for a little while.

After five or ten minutes, he eases out of my embrace and smiles down at me as he rises. "I need a shower."

"Okay."

He bends over to kiss me on the forehead, before heading for the bathroom.

Once he is in the shower, I swing off the bed and begin to round up his clothes. After setting them on the bed, I impulsively head for the bathroom. I should probably give him privacy but decide to watch him through the clear glass shower doors.

I like watching him move. Even doing something as simple as bathing, there's a sense of barely leashed power about him. Much to my surprise, I find this to be one of the things that turns me on. And I have to wonder why.

After a moment, I turn to the sink and quickly clean the semen off my chest and abdomen.

After a very quick shower, the water shuts off and, before I can stop myself, I step into the shower with a towel. He looks a little surprised and starts to say something. Whatever he was about to say is cut off when I step forward and start to dry him. I'm not sure what my motives are, and I will not meet his eyes, but I enjoy another opportunity to touch his body. After reaching around to dry his back, I suddenly feel a little awkward.

His eyes are bright and his expression is satisfied. He enjoys my ministrations. "Thank you, Alex."

I run my hand through my hair and step out of the tub. "I, uh, left your clothes on the bed."

Once out of the shower, he kisses me. His tongue tours my mouth briefly before he steps away and returns to the bedroom.

While he dresses, I head to the living room and pull on my bike shorts, then flop on the couch. Closing my eyes, I wonder when he'll be back. Then find myself wondering if I want him to come back.

I've experienced more anxiety this afternoon than I have in the last ten years. Is it really worth it? I mean, that came really close to being an... argument? I chew my lip for a moment and make a decision.

It is worth it. Because it's a lot easier to ignore some occasional unease than to forget how good this feels.

When he joins me in the living room, his clothes look only slightly rumpled. I find myself conjecturing that his wife will look at him and know. I briefly wonder what's wrong with his marriage, but quickly squelch the thought. It's none of my business.

He extends a hand to me and guides me into his embrace. "Thank you for this afternoon, Alex. I'm sorry about the phone call."

I shrug. "Certainly the last person I expected to interrupt one of my blowjobs." I grin at him. "I'm sure I'll be amused by it in, oh, 10 or 15 years." Back to the important stuff. "Speaking of the fine art of oral sex... I want the opportunity to finish what was interrupted earlier. You said you had some time later in the week?" I manage to keep the eagerness out of my voice... barely.

He hesitates before speaking, as if concerned about my reaction. This is very unlike the Walter Skinner I know. "I would like to spend the night with you. Would you like that?" His voice is tentative, almost shy.

My brain stops functioning and I just look at him. "Yeah, I would." Okay, who is speaking? That cannot possibly have been me. I clear my throat and try again. "Umm... when?" Said the wrong thing again. I wish I could gain control of my higher brain functions. I seem to be operating at a reptilian level.

"Thursday night my wife..." His face goes dark on the word 'wife.' Is he ashamed of his infidelity? "...will be in New York. Is Thursday good for you?"

A remote part of my brain cringes at the shame, but I firmly remind myself that his marriage is his issue. And none of my business.

I reach up and trace his lower lip with my fingertips. "Yeah, Thursday is good."

"Seven o'clock? I'll bring dinner."

"Uh, there's plenty to drink here so just bring food."

He nods. "I'll see you on Thursday then." His hand finds the back of my neck, rubbing gently, before he kisses me goodbye.

"Walter?"

He looks back at me, hand poised on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"Umm... thanks for the ice cream."

He gives me a brief nod, a smile, then opens the door. After it closes, I stand in the middle of the room, not moving. Mercifully, my mind is blank. I feel the need to completely exhaust myself before it kicks back into high gear. I gather my bike gear and prepare to leave.

**

I sit in the car for a moment, remembering the last hour and a half with Alex. God, I like touching him, looking at him, tasting him.

Shaking my head to encourage blood flow to my brain, I open my cell phone and press the first preset.

"Hello?"

"Sharon, It's Walt."

She doesn't reply.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I got a call from the Attorney General. It caused a few problems I had to work out." Wanting Alex makes the lie painfully easy.

"Are you going to be home in time to take me to the opening?"

"I'm heading home now. I should be there in forty minutes."

"Fine," she answers coldly, disconnecting the phone.

I listen to the dial tone for a moment. A niggling thought is floating around my head... this is more than just sex. I press the preset for Section Chief Baker, using business to eradicate my uncomfortable thoughts... a practice that has served me well for quite a few years.

**

Washington, D.C.
Wednesday, 8 June 1994
9:10 A.M.

Wednesday morning finds me working with Unit Manager Kym. I begin to see a pattern in who I work with... whichever senior agent needs the most help. It's such fun being the junior agent.

Today, Kym has the unenviable task of sorting through miscellaneous information about the six victims in yet another attempt to find a connection.

Because there are no obvious similarities between them, we're at the stage of sorting through the most mundane details of the victims' lives. I'm in the process of looking to see if any of the victims carry the same credit card. After ten minutes of paper shuffling, the answer is no.

This is unbelievably boring and in no way takes my mind off Walter. My thoughts are constantly on tomorrow night. I'm not sure if I feel exhilaration or trepidation. And I stubbornly refuse to analyze it.

Agent Kym's deep sigh grabs my attention. He looks frustrated. Apparently his quest has yielded equally futile results.

He looks at the whiteboards we're using to 'organize' the details of the victim's lives. Only major information makes it onto the boards, as we don't have much space. All the minor details are buried in the files and kept track of on page after page of yellow legal-size paper.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he mumbles, "There has to be a better way to do this."

"It would be a lot easier to manage if we had this information in the computer and were not forced to shuffle papers hour after hour."

"Are you kidding? It would take those nerds weeks to come up with something useful. I don't know..." He pauses and looks thoughtful. "But, at the rate we're going, it can't hurt to get 'em started."

"Well, that would be helpful, but we need something now."

He looks skeptical. "You have a suggestion?"

"Just entering the core information in a spreadsheet and getting it off the board would be useful. We could pass everyone a copy and add detail whenever we need to."

His expression is blank and he asks the same question. "You have a suggestion?"

Okay, the guy apparently is not computer literate. I decide for a different approach. "It would only take a couple of hours. Do you want me to do it?"

"Uh, yeah. If you think it'll help."

"It can't possibly make things any worse."

He laughs and sets out to free up one of the room's three computers.

Three hours later, I have a printout of the board information. It's well past lunch and I'm starving. I hand it to Agent Kym on my way out the door. "I'm going to grab lunch."

When I return, Kym and Gough ask me how much more information we can add to the spreadsheet. I sigh and prepare them for bad news. "Well, that's the problem. Not much. The volume and variety of information don't lend themselves to a flat filing system... not if we want to extract anything useful out of it."

"What does that mean exactly?" This from Agent Gough. It's just too absurd.

"We need to transfer it to a database."

Kym pipes up this time. "Please don't tell me we need the computer guys to do this."

"Ideally. They really should have some type of software that will track this stuff."

Gough replies, "It will take weeks. Any chance you can do it?"

"Write software? No. I can create a very rudimentary database but-"

Kym cuts me off, "Good. Do that. The geeks can take it from there." They both turn and walk off. Well, shit.

By 5:00, I have the basic structure for the database and have imported the core information. Now, we need some of the more detailed information buried in the files.

I look at the piles of folders and papers that represent the lives of the six victims. How long could it take?


Thursday, 9 June 1994
5:20 A.M.

Twelve hours later, I have my answer. The pile represented about 18 hours of work. I could finish in about six more hours, but all this data is useless if I'm the only one able to access it. And I have a strong feeling that would be the case.

I set the remaining pile of information aside and begin trying to sort the information in the database.

I'm blearily staring at the computer screen, working on a report, when I hear Agent Gough's voice.

"Early riser, Krycek?"

I absently mumble, "Never left." I glance at the wall clock. 7:05.

"What?" She walks over to stand by my chair.

I look up at her. "Got kind of entrenched in this and decided to stick it out." I hand her the print outs of the completed reports.

She starts flipping through the data and murmurs, "This is interesting."

I turn back to the computer. About an hour later, I send the last report to the printer and turn to find Gough and Unit Manager Kym bearing down on me. Kym sits next to me. "Explain what you did." He has a copy of one of the more complex reports, already covered in notes and highlighter markings.

I assume he's not asking for basic database theory, so I give him a brief rundown on what information I entered and how it can be manipulated. I also explain that I have at least six more hours of data to enter.

Kym tells me to show Mallory what to do. Mallory must be able turn the computer on... or something equally advanced.

I sit down to go over the remaining files with Mallory.

Out of the blue, a hand appears in front of me, plucking the file I'm reviewing off the table. I look up and meet the eyes of Section Chief Baker. "Sir?"

"Go home, Krycek. You look beat." Before I can reply, he joins Gough at one of the computers.

Christ, it's only 9:00 A.M. I don't particularly want to go home. I still have ten hours until Walter arrives, and I do not need that much time alone with my thoughts.

I realize I'm just staring after Baker when I feel a nudge at my shoulder. I glance over at Mallory. "Get some sleep, Alex. We'll work on this tomorrow." Mallory is friendlier than many of the other agents. Probably hasn't been an agent long enough to know better.

Not given much of a choice, I put on my jacket and head for the door. Agent Gough's voice stops me.

"Nice job on this, Krycek." Baker nods his agreement and they turn back to the computer screen.

I try to visualize Baker's expression if I said, 'That's okay. It kept me from obsessing about your boss's dick.' I manage to suppress a grin and leave the room.

Half an hour later, I'm pacing around my apartment, trying to decide what to do, when I realize I am very tired. Still dressed, I lie on the bed to see if I can waste some time sleeping.

I wake up a little before four, feeling very groggy and surprised that I conked out for six hours. The light on my answering machine is blinking. It's another message from Nick. Checking to see if I'm still 'off the market.' God, he makes it sound like I'm married. I find myself instantly annoyed. He's not exactly being obnoxious, but I'm accustomed to problems going away when I want them to.

Feeling a sudden need to ride, I change clothes and head out.

A short distance into my ride, I stop at a payphone to check my voicemail messages. Nothing new.

After a while, my muscles are feeling loose and the endorphins are flowing. I realize I should probably head back. I ask a passerby the time. Shit. I've been out for almost an hour and a half. I'll be lucky to make it back before Walter arrives.

I'm dripping sweat by the time I get home. I heave a sigh of relief at not seeing Walter's car. I grab my bike and head up the stairs.

**

Falls Church, VA
7:18 P.M.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I see Alex with his bike balanced on one hip, unlocking the door. He's completely drenched in sweat, face flushed. Tight tank top showing off the lean muscles of his chest. Bike shorts provide an appealing silhouette of groin and thigh. I feel the blood rush to my crotch. Reminds me of our first encounter in my garage.

"Alex?"

His head jerks around. "Uh, hi." His eyes rake over me and he seems to flush a little more. Pushing open the door, he gestures for me to precede him into the apartment. As the door closes, he moves past me with the bike. "Just a sec. Let me put my bike on the patio." He pauses and looks back at me. "Umm... nice shirt, Walter."

Inordinately pleased that my tight white T-shirt has the desired effect, I offload the box from the Italian deli on the kitchen table.

Alex secures the bike outside, then grabs a towel from the kitchen. He hitches a hip against the table, rubbing the towel over his face and hair. "Sorry. I lost track of time."

I curl an arm around his sweaty waist and pull him into a kiss. He moans and his breath catches. He kisses me briefly, but he's nervous today. Breaking away, he goes into the kitchen. "Umm... I'm dying of thirst. Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure. How about a beer?"

"Shit. I'm out of tea." His voice is muffled as he speaks into the refrigerator. He returns, passing me a brown bottle. There's a look of mild annoyance on his face.

"Do you need to make some?"

"Huh?" He looks confused.

"Do you want to brew some tea?"

"Brew? Uh, no. I'll go buy some. There is a 7-11 around the corner. I'll be back." He grabs his keys and heads out.

I stare at the closed door for a minute, tempted to laugh at my jumpy lover. He's obviously upset about something, but it doesn't appear serious. My guess is he's not going to just open up and talk to me about it either.

Twisting the cap off the beer, I take a swig and unpack the food. Presumably he'll be back soon. If not, I can always refrigerate the antipasto and sandwiches.

I'm in a good mood. Changing into casual clothes before leaving work helped me get into a relaxed frame of mind. The anticipation feels good. My cock knows. I'm half hard standing here by myself. But if something is bothering Alex we might not fuck. That would be okay, too.

I select a copy of National Geographic from his bookcase and sit in the living room. I'm reading about leaf cutter ants when the doorbell rings. Alex took his key... so?

The peephole reveals a young man. He appears benign, so I open the door.

"Yes?"

Light blue eyes widen with surprise. The young man, who can't be more than 25, begins a slow perusal of my body, a seductive smile curving his lips. He drags his eyes along my form, returns to my face, then leans against the doorjamb. "Well, hello there, handsome."

Oh, Christ. And this would be... a friend of Alex's? "Can I help you?"

He shifts his weight to the other hip, wiggling a little more than necessary. "Well, I thought I was here to see Alex, but I'm perfectly happy to see you, sexy." He's almost batting his eyelashes.

I roll my eyes at the slender blonde. He's wearing tight, low riding jeans and a white mesh tank top, which reveals more than it conceals of his skinny chest. "Yeah, well, I'm not on the menu. Why don't you give me your name and I'll tell Alex you came by."

He looks a little surprised. "Alex isn't here? Since when does he let anyone stay in his apartment when he's not home?" His expression becomes speculative.

I'm getting a feeling about this guy. Not a friend... a lover, perhaps? Current or ex? I can hardly fault Alex for cheating.

"You must be very entertaining... wanna tell me your name, gorgeous?" He's back to flirting. Makes me wish I had a flyswatter. If he is a lover, Alex's taste in men has changed recently. Dramatically.

"Actually, no." I know how to brush him off effectively, but it seems uncharitable to be rude to Alex's friend... or whatever.

"Well, that's just too bad but, then again, names can be overrated. I can--"

"Nick!" Alex's icy tone makes the guy jump, then turn around. Alex closes the short distance, his expression stony.

The blonde--apparently Nick--flashes him a sultry smile. "Alex, baby, we were just talking about you."

Alex growls and Nick sighs. "Oh, I know you don't like it, but 'baby' just suits you." Nick reaches out to touch Alex's chest. Alex clamps a hand around Nick's wrist, yanking it away. Definitely ex. One that Alex clearly has no patience for.

"What do you want, Nick?" Alex's expression could freeze water. He has never given me that look, but then I never called him 'baby' either.

Nick flashes another flirtatious smile that seems to include us both... and probably anyone within a hundred yards. "Oh, I just came by to see if you'd changed your mind but I see you're occupied."

"Correct. You can go now."

Nick shivers with something like delight. "You're such a hard case, baby." Alex scowls. "But that's what I like about you. Well, one of the things." He looks pointedly at Alex's crotch. "If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." Nick turns to me. "Same goes for you, gorgeous." Blowing me a kiss, Nick sidesteps Alex and heads for the stairs, waving and calling to us both, "Ciao!"

Fighting a laugh, because Alex is obviously pissed, I step aside, allowing him to enter. He moves to the dining area, setting his bag on the table. His jaw is clenched and he distractedly runs his hand through his damp hair. Sighing heavily, he turns to me, rolling his shoulders as if trying to ease the tension. "Sorry. Umm... Nick can be a bit flirtatious."

I move to stand directly in front of him, reaching out to rub his shoulders, and risking a smile. "I can survive a little flirting. You want to talk about it?"

"About Nick? No. I was just surprised to see him. He has a, uh, knack for pushing my buttons." His muscles relax a bit under my fingers and, sighing, he rests his head against my shoulder. One hand slowly strokes along my ribcage.

I can't help but wonder at the obvious differences between Nick and me. Not two men you'd figure the same man to take an interest in. My intuition suggests I'm the anomaly, but I don't really understand. Alex doesn't open himself up any better than I do.

It's not important. Alex doesn't pry about Sharon. He deserves the same courtesy.

My hands slip around to his back, rubbing hard to break through his tension.

He suddenly pulls away, green eyes looking almost sad. "Ugh. Sorry... I'm all sweaty."

I can sympathize about his sweaty condition. I wouldn't want anyone touching me after a workout. But I don't smell like eau de lust either. Looking and smelling the way he does, the boy is an incitement to violence.

I step close again and circle him in my arms to discourage another escape attempt. "I know... You look damned good. Smell good, too." I nuzzle his damp hair.

His hands move restlessly against my chest in a sort of nervous fashion. He takes a shuddering breath, then relaxes against me, one arm winding around my neck. His other hand is pressed against my chest and he begins to knead my pecs. His voice is a murmur near my ear. "Really, really nice shirt, Walt." He pulls his head back enough to find my mouth and glides his tongue over my lips.

His erection rubs against my thigh. My own hard-on responds instantly, painfully cramped in my jeans. The Walter who thought sex was optional tonight must have gone home.

I drop one hand and slide it down to his cock.

Alex groans and presses into my palm. His mouth clamps on mine, lips parting for me. He tugs at my shirt, then tangles his fingers in my chest hair.

Oh, god. Here we go again. But hell, I can live with it. I've got much worse problems than an overwhelming need to put my cock up his sweet ass.

Yanking his tank top up, I manage to remove it between kisses. Then I slide one hand into the bike shorts, groping his balls. He rotates his crotch against my hand. Something between a sigh and a moan comes out of my mouth. My tongue ravages his mouth. I have got to slow down.

I break the kiss and take a deep breath. His eyelids are limp, fingers still wandering in my chest hair.

"Alex?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's take this into the bedroom."

He looks at me, but his eyes are a little glazed. His fingertips move across my nipple as he nods his acquiescence. Then he stills and looks at me a little more sharply. "Umm, you sure you don't want me to shower first?"

"If it would make you more comfortable, I can wait." I stroke the side of his cheek with my fingertips. "But there's no question you're turning me on like that."

His gaze becomes heated and his breathing a little more rapid. "Fuck, Walter..." He pulls our bodies together, grinding his erection against mine and sucking my earlobe into his mouth. "I don't think I can wait."

Yeah, tell me about it, kid. "Get your tea." I'm not going to be rushed tonight, so I stash the food in the fridge.

In the bedroom, after kicking off my shoes, I toss back the covers and sit, leaning against the headboard. Alex starts to join me on the bed, but I shake my head. "Stay there. Undress for me."

His eyes widen with surprise. It's an obnoxious command, perhaps, but I enjoy watching him. Maybe he'll enjoy it, too. After a moment, his expression clears. Locking his eyes on mine, he places one foot on the bed, then runs his tongue over his lower lip as he leans forward to unlace the shoe. He tosses the shoe and sock away and brings the other leg up. This time he bites his lip and his breathing accelerates as he watches me.

The way his passionate eyes hold mine is intense enough that I forget to breathe.

All that's left are the shorts. He slides both hands into the waistband, carefully peeling them down and freeing his straining erection. His palms glide along his thighs, pushing the shorts to his ankles, then he kicks them away.

He's got devastatingly sexy legs... muscular, shapely and long. Those bike rides have paid off.

Does he know how much pleasure I get just from looking at his body? Can he see it on my face? It scares me a little... how much I desire him. Fuck, he deserves to hear it. He's doing whatever I tell him. "Have I told you how much your body turns me on, Alex? So long and lean... and elegant when you move... almost like a cat."

I've certainly been around Alex enough to know he's not much of a talker, so I'm half surprised when he responds. "I'm glad you like it, Walter." His voice is a husky murmur. "Because your desire turns me on... probably more than is strictly good for my sanity."

It's good to know I'm not alone in the lust madness. "Tell me, Alex. Talk to me."

Alex leans against the wall, hands folded behind his back, and fixes his heavy-lidded gaze on me. "Tell you about my insanity? Hmm... Your body is the source of my madness. It's crazy-making thinking about the way your chest hair feels under my hands and tongue... the way your nipples feel between my lips."

His raspy voice is hotter than a hand on my cock. My body freezes, tense with need, as I listen.

"I get hard thinking about the texture of your cock throbbing against my tongue, the feel of it sliding down my throat... the way your hands feel on my skin."

I think I'm about to come in my pants from the husky sound of his voice. My hand makes an aborted movement toward my trapped and straining erection.

Alex swallows convulsively and takes a shuddering breath. "I could come just thinking about the feel of your cock in my ass." As if in confirmation, his dick twitches. "I think about your body, and the fact that you desire me, and all I want to do is turn you on."

He's just talking about sex and yet... somehow he's revealed more of himself. I wish I understood.

Alex pushes away from the wall and steps closer to the bed. "What else can I do to turn you on, Walt?" Naked, he waits silently, expecting another command.

I am only too willing to oblige. "Turn around."

He pivots gracefully on the ball of one foot and stands with his feet about eighteen inches apart, giving me the best possible view of his round ass. My hand drops to my jeans, shifting the heavy fabric, trying to make more room for my cock. "Turn again."

After an about-face, he gazes at me, eyes shiny and bright. I think he's enjoying himself. I'd stop telling him what to do if he gave even a hint of displeasure.

"Now take off my clothes, Alex."

He takes a deep breath and moves to the end of the bed. Kneeling on it, he reaches for my foot and slides the sock off. Flashing me a mischievous look, he bends down and his tongue glides along the arch of my foot.

I can't help but smile as my leg wriggles to both escape and prolong the tingle. It's a lot easier to enjoy this when I'm not on the phone with the Attorney General.

He gives the other foot the same treatment.

Dropping to all fours, he crawls up the bed, hands and knees on either side of me. He sits back on my thighs and reaches for my chest. Hands glide down the taut fabric of the T-shirt, then slide under the hem. He gathers the material in his fingers and pushes up the shirt.

I sit forward so he can pull it over my head. His mouth fastens on my nipple as he rakes his hands down my sides.

A shiver teases my spine. It has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. "Mmm. Very nice, Alex." I feel his lips curve into a smile.

Alex scoots backward a little and his tongue finds my navel as he opens my fly. He swings off the bed and leans over me, carefully freeing my cock from the confines of my clothes. Bending forward, his lips and tongue trail slowly along my erection as his hand caresses the flesh of my ass.

I inhale sharply. It's unseemly for a man my age to have to worry about coming too soon, but that's reality when I take Alex to bed.

I lift my hips and he wiggles my jeans past my ass and slowly tugs them down my legs, leaving a trail of random kisses along my thighs.

So sweet. For some reason my brain flashes to his boyfriend, and I am positive this moment with Alex bears no resemblance to whatever he had with Nick. I feel a surge of possessiveness, as if this Alex is only mine.

He piles the clothes on a chair and retrieves a condom and lube, dropping them on the bed. He stares at me, his breathing a little uneven.

I could stop being such a domineering bastard, giving him orders in his own home, but I'm enjoying myself. I sense that he is, too. Alex isn't meek. He'd object if he was feeling put upon.

Gesturing to the foot of the bed, I say, "Sit across from me."

A spark of curiosity flares in his eyes, but he complies, gracefully settling his body in front of me.

"Touch your chest, your nipples... like you did at the motel."

Fluidly, he rolls onto his knees, sitting back on his heels. Eyes locked on mine, his hands start at his hips and glide up his body. Sliding first across his taut abdomen then up over his pecs. He kneads the flesh for a moment, then trails his fingertips around his nipples.

He has pretty hands. They're small for his size, but very elegant.

Rolling the nubs between thumb and forefinger, he begins to apply pressure. Pinching and twisting slightly as his low moan vibrates in the air.

My hard-on rises urgently toward his body, as if pointing out what it wants. Like I need remedial directions. There may not be much oxygen getting to my brain, but every functioning cell is focused on Alex.

He pinches harder and pulls at his nipples, a grunt escaping his throat.

No, no, no. It's not the same as when I do it.

Abruptly, I sit up and scoot closer. Gently grabbing his wrists, I pull them away from his chest and press them firmly to the bed next to his legs. Then I reach for his nipples.

Alex likes it hard, but I start slowly. His chest immediately rises toward me... his body an offering. His face is entirely different from when he pinched his own nipples; now it speaks poignantly of surrender. He's giving himself to me, for whatever use I wish to make of him. Nothing could turn me on more.

His body and face are handsome, but I don't believe I've ever seen anything as beautiful as the pained capitulation in his eyes. It's not easy for him to give what he's giving me. I'm moved by it in a way that has nothing to do with sex. I feel a rush of fear. This boy means way too much to me.

Fuck... not going to deal with it now.

I tweak his tender nubs harder.

He exhales harshly, stops breathing for a moment and then gasps for air. His knees press open. Bracing his arms behind him, he arches his chest up against my hands.

Alex's eyes are still locked on mine as I apply a little more pressure. He moans breathlessly and his eyes slide shut. His head rolls back and to the side, exposing his vulnerable throat. Relaxing into the arched position, he yields completely.

Lightheaded from intense lust, I growl my pleasure.

Releasing his nipples, I wrap a hand around the back of his neck, lean over his body, and tug his face to mine. I begin at his cheek, kissing a sloppy path to his lips. My cock aches with envy as my demanding tongue enters his mouth.

He whimpers softly.

And suddenly all this delicious foreplay seems like an obstacle to what we really need. I break away, gasping, and mutter, "I need to fuck you. Get on your back." I want to watch his face while I fuck him.

Alex straightens up and leans against me, breathing rapidly. After a moment, he shifts onto hands and knees, moving around me to crawl up the bed. He rubs against me as he passes... shoulder, ribs, hip, leg... like an oversized tabby cat.

Stretching out on his back, he briefly arches and flexes his lean body before relaxing into the mattress.

I'm over him in an instant, pausing for a moment, before I allow my body weight to press slowly onto his.

His arms wind around my back, pulling down... wanting the pressure of my weight. He groans and moves his hips, rubbing our cocks together.

"Alllllexxx," I whisper into his ear, so turned on the friction between us is going to make me come if I don't back off.

One of my knees nudges between his thighs, pushing one leg to the side. Then I repeat the motion, so I'm kneeling between his spread legs. Shifting down his body, I position myself with my mouth at his cock. I swipe the head with my tongue.

Alex gasps, and a shudder racks his body. I feel his position shift and glance up. He's braced up on his elbows, looking at me intently.

I hadn't intended on giving him a blowjob, but it's tempting. As I lick along the shaft of his cock, his thighs quiver. There's a sharp intake of breath, and his head drops back against the pillows. It's so satisfying to destroy a man with a simple flick of a tongue.

Sucking the tip of his cock into my mouth, I swirl my tongue around it, enjoying his bland taste. Then I release it and lap at the vein along the underside.

His legs move restlessly, and he suddenly gasps out, "Walt... god, no teasing... please." His expression is a cross between dazed and frustrated. "Please... fuck me."

After one last lick, I smile up at him, eager to do just that. Tearing open a condom, I pass it to him. He leans forward and unrolls it onto my erection, rubbing my cock as he goes, which massively threatens my tenuous self-control.

"Don't do that," I hiss.

He laughs breathlessly, but efficiently finishes with the condom. His abdominal muscles tighten as he levers himself up a little more and captures my mouth, caressing my lips with his tongue.

I groan and my fingers grope for the lube. Holding the bottle in one hand, I push gently on Alex's shoulder with the other. As he lies back, I stroke his inner thigh. His restless movements cease and he watches me with a heavy-lidded stare. I lift one of his legs and there's a very subtle tensing in his body. His expression reveals something like distress. In the time it takes to blink, his face goes completely blank. Unnaturally blank.

In a split second, a look passes between us. We've never fucked face-to-face. My eyes are asking the question, but I don't expect an answer. I respond on instinct. "Turn over, Alex."

His tension seems to increase at first, but he pulls his legs up and rises onto his knees. Slowly, he flattens his body on the mattress, allowing his legs to spread out on either side of me. The unexplained tension seems to drain as he settles on his stomach. He reaches up and grabs two slats on the headboard as he lifts his ass.

I run my fingers down his spine, reassuring myself that he's okay. When I begin to massage his ass, he squirms encouragingly. The pretty sight of his wriggling butt gets me hot all over again.

Popping the cap on the lube, I anoint my fingers, quickly rubbing it warm. Pressing two lubed fingers into his crack, I stroke his anus. He gasps and pushes his ass at me.

I slip one finger inside, rubbing carefully before inserting the second. Alex fucks himself on my digits, obviously rubbing his hard-on against the sheets. I find it amusing, but my sense of humor is limited by the fact that my own cock demands contact.

My fingertips find his prostate and fondle it briefly before I withdraw. A quick dollop of lube on my cock, and I'm sliding into position. Groaning, he pushes upward, trying to encourage my cock into his body. He gives a growl of frustration, the muscles in his back rippling as he arches to meet me. He looks back over one shoulder. "Walter, please," his voice sounds raw, "fuck me."

Bracing myself on my hands, I push hard from the hips, driving my cock into him. A sobbing moan is ripped from his throat.

Once I'm sheathed in the tight furnace of his ass, it's painfully obvious that this is going to be a short fuck. So I put some power behind my thrusts and slam into him. His low, guttural grunts accompany every hard push into his body. Muscles straining, his ass meets every thrust.

Reaching under his hips, I wrap my fingers around his cock. Satiny smooth skin covering a rock hard organ... it makes my head spin. I pump into him at a faster pace and his body seizes with the explosion of his own orgasm. His ass contracts around my cock, and I cry out as my own climax overtakes me.

The sounds of gasping breaths fill the room as I collapse on top of him. Our bodies are still twitching together as we both struggle for oxygen. I feel the pounding of his heart and my own.

Alex's body gradually relaxes under mine, but he keeps his legs splayed and his ass tilted up, allowing my cock to remain in his body. I brace myself to move off him, but he moans, "No... not yet." Then he moans again and buries his face in the pillow.

If he's not bothered by 220 pounds of lethargic post-orgasmic Walter, then I see no reason to move. My hands find his shoulders, and I nuzzle the side of his face.

This thing between us is bigger than I care to admit. Sex is one thing, but I don't understand my feelings. Alex is so passionate and, around him, I seem to be passionate, too. But what does it mean? Are we having a relationship? Fuck. I'm in over my head.

But it feels so good just being close to him like this. His body held down by the weight of mine. My diminishing cock still inside him. Is it possible to feel so contented and afraid at the same time?

Afraid of what? Alex? Sharon? My life falling apart and going somewhere I hadn't planned? I'm acting on instinct with Alex... and that shatters my sense of control. I don't know where we're heading, but we're going there hard and fast.

**

I seem to be incapable of coherent thought. My muscles are lax--except for those needed to keep my hips in a position to accommodate Walter's cock. I feel completely satiated. The only fully formed thought to make an appearance since Walter plunged his cock into me, was not wanting him to move after he came. My sole focus is the feel of his hands on my shoulders, lips on my face, and softening cock in my ass.

As long as his weight is pinning me to the bed, I have a reprieve. I can just be in this moment. I don't have to deal with how out of control this situation has become. I don't have to deal with the fear I felt when I realized he planned to fuck me face to face. And the reason behind the fear is not what I might have suspected.

I could see his desire plainly etched on his face and I remembered the day he jerked me off in front of the mirror. Normally a master at controlling my expressions, I realized then that, when he touches me, I drop my defenses and let him see me. I knew for certain I didn't want him to see how I feel when he penetrates me... when his body is connected to mine... strange feelings I cannot name--do not want to name. Strange feelings I tell myself do not exist. At least until the next time he puts his hands on me.

I react to Walter... I don't plan. And those reactions are dangerous. This can only end badly so I should just end it now. But I've never given a fuck about should.

So, I want him to stay. In a way he could not possibly understand, I'm asking him to make me stay. With his weight on my body. All I have to do is breathe and try to get my scattered thoughts and bizarre feelings back under control.

His lips nibble my ear idly. "Let me know when you want to breathe again, Alex."

"Mmm..." Of necessity, I have to keep my breathing shallow but I'm getting enough air, and this just feels too good.

I let my mind blank, enjoying the feel of his body on mine. Eventually, my ass and thigh muscles begin to protest but I try to ignore it. When the muscles start to tremble, I feel Walter's weight shift as he moves to roll off. I groan, not really appreciating the gesture. A shudder passes through my body at the feel of his cock slipping out of me.

Walter settles next to me, his arm around my waist. I take a deep breath, trying to replenish my oxygen, but am still so sex-dazed I can't manage to pry my eyes open. I feel his lips graze my cheek, then he murmurs near my ear, "Hungry?"

I finally open my eyes. "Mmm... very." I grabbed breakfast on the way home from the office and ate a granola bar before my ride, but that was many hours of activity ago.

Walter rolls over and stands next to the bed. I pull my limbs into some semblance of a normal position and watch him slip on his jeans. Seeing him shirtless in jeans reminds me of the fuck in his garage... how overwhelmed I was seeing him half-dressed for the first time. I find a half smile creeping onto my face as he looks at me expectantly. Yeah, I need to get up.

I scoot over to the side of the bed and stand next to him. Waves of dizziness drive me to my knees. Okay, maybe I wasn't getting enough air. Or I should have eaten earlier.

Suddenly, he's on the floor next to me, a hand supporting my lower back. "You okay?" His tone is gentle; he knows I'm not seriously ill.

I blink at him dumbly for a few moments, trying to clear the black spots from my vision.

He rises. "Stay there. I'll get you something."

"No, wait. I just need something to eat." I push myself up and feel his arm around me, helping me to stand.

Stepping away from him, I rub a hand over my face, trying to get my brain and body working in the same direction. I lead the way out of the bedroom, heading straight for the refrigerator.

Walter follows, and keeps a protective eye on me as I open the fridge.

Grabbing the orange juice, I lean against the wall and down the entire bottle. I still feel a bit lightheaded, but the unimpeded flow of oxygen and the sugar slowly seeping into my bloodstream are rapidly bringing me back to normal.

A little dizziness is a trivial price for the experience of Walter touching me. I feel my features twist into a scowl... I hardly recognize myself these days. I push away from the wall and shake off the troublesome thoughts.

A warm hand falls on my shoulder. "Sit down, Alex. I'll get dinner."

I let my hand glide across his abdomen as I move out of the kitchen. "I'm going to get my jeans... be right back."

Instinctively, I grab the jeans reserved for lounging around the house. They're cut low on the hips and are a bit loose, but they're old and worn and incredibly comfortable. There are various rips in the thighs and one across the lower right butt cheek. I realize they scream 'rent-boy' and I'm fine with that. I would much rather deal with the sexual overtones than this increasing intimacy.

I return to the dining room. His eyes track me warily, but he seems relaxed, sitting in what has already become his chair.

The table is set with antipasto and a platter of sandwiches. He's found plates, napkins and silverware, as well as two bottles of tea and two glasses I don't recognize.

"Where did you go on the bike ride?" His voice carries a soothing tone.

I pile food on my plate, resisting the urge to frown at the sandwiches. "There's a big park about 45 minutes from here. My intention was just to ride there and back, but I sort of blanked out and kept going. Found myself in a warehouse district another 45 minutes later." I grin at him. "Had to haul ass to get here before you."

I take a few bites of a sandwich and abandon the bread, picking the meat and cheese out of the middle. "Do you ride, Walter? Or do you prefer just to work out at the gym?" I pop a bite of meat into my mouth and reach for my tea.

"I have a bicycle, but it's in the corner of the garage, covered with dust. The tires are probably flat." He takes a bite of raw carrot and, after chewing, continues, "I don't like to bike on the roads after dark. Sometimes I run, but the gym is my mainstay. Plus I usually box once a week."

"Hmm... You don't like to bike after dark? I think that says something about your work habits, Walter. You should try leaving the office when it's light out." I grab some more meat and cheese off the tray... carefully avoiding the vegetables.

His eyes open wide, in mock offense. "My work habits? At least I did leave the office last night."

I gape at him. "How did you know about that?"

"Baker told me." He watches my face carefully. "Alex, I'm not monitoring you. Baker's just thorough and he's pleased with your work."

"I wasn't implying... umm, I'm just surprised he mentioned something like that." For some reasons it feels... weird. Thinking of Section Chief Baker talking to Walter about me.

Walter shrugs. "You get noticed. Don't worry about it. It should be good for your career."

"Ah, yes. Well, that's certainly not foremost in my mind right now." I rake my eyes over his chest and grin. "Now, back to those physical activities... boxing? I'll have to remember that... no fighting with Walter. But that's okay. I prefer wrestling anyway."

He grins at me salaciously. "You've certainly got the moves and the physique for it."

I leer back at him. "Any time you'd like a demonstration." The mysterious drinking glasses catch my eye. I lift one and ask, "Where did these come from?"

"Under your sink," he smirks, shaking his head at my folly. "The alien in your kitchen told me where to look."

"Ah, fuck. It figures the stupid creature would-" The phone ringing actually startles me. I stare at it blankly, then slowly rise to retrieve it from the kitchen counter. Unless there's been another killing, there's only one person who would call me at home. Well, it's possible Nick could call, but that seems very unlikely.

I prop my hip against the counter and answer, "Yeah."

"I have something for you to do." Great. He exhales, and I can easily visualize the cloud of smoke.

"And that would be?" This is awkward. I focus on keeping my tone neutral. Skinner in my house and the Smoker on the phone. My life is too perfect.

"A little extracurricular assignment this weekend. Sunday morning to be precise."

Skinner picks up a magazine from my table and starts reading, in what has to be a deliberate effort to give me a little privacy. Shy of moving to my bedroom, there's no way to get out of hearing range and this needs to sound like a casual phone conversation.

I reach for a pen and paper. "Specifics?" My tone is friendly and inquisitive.

He pauses. "Did I interrupt something, Alex?" There's a hint of malicious humor in his tone.

"Yeah. I'm having dinner." Acting abilities such as they are, I know I sound pleasant and friendly.

"I take it you're not alone?"

"No."

"Ah, Alex. Another one of your pretty boys?"

I let my silence answer while I contemplate which languages Skinner might speak or read. I could kick myself because I had a perfect opportunity to ask the first time he came over.

There's an annoyed sigh when he realizes I am not going to answer. "I know we've discussed this before but, you are keeping your, shall we say... proclivities away from the Bureau?"

Oh, if only you knew. "Naturally. Now, what are the details?" I sound just shy of lighthearted... wouldn't want to overdo it. My brain is rapidly spinning my cover story, should Skinner ask about the call.

"So impatient, Alex."

"Well, dinner is getting cold," I say on a slight laugh.

He gives a snort of laughter and rattles off an address, a name and various other details. I jot down my notes in Latin--seems an unlikely language for Skinner to know.

"Okay. That it?"

"Yes. And Alex?"

"Yes?"

"Your cover is the most important thing. Don't let anything jeopardize it."

Oh, like killing people? Something like that, maybe? This is just code for 'don't get caught.' "Of course not."

There's a click and the line is dead. Before I put the phone down, I quickly try to remember where I was in conversation with Skinner. I need to appear relaxed and be able to easily pick up where we left off.

I casually toss the notepad and pen in a drawer. I'm confident that, in the very remote chance Skinner should open the drawer and be able to read Latin, my notes are vague enough to be unremarkable.

I return to the table. "Sorry about the interruption." I take another bite and look at Walter. "So, where were we? Oh, yeah. I think it's very unfair for my alien to communicate with you. I didn't even know I had glasses." That's certainly the truth.

Walter's hand moves over mine, stroking it lightly with his thumb. His expression is tranquil. He looks well fed and sexually satisfied. Looking at him, half dressed in my home, I have the overwhelming urge to touch him. Our last couple of encounters have left little opportunity to explore his body.

I finish my meal one handed, to maintain the contact, while he watches me eat. I contemplate what to do next... trying to come up with something that will not make the situation any more uncomfortable, but will still allow me to do what I want to him.

When the meal is finished, he stores the leftovers while I put the dishes in the sink.

I come up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You staying?"

There's a hesitation but he nods. "If you still want me to."

"Definitely," I whisper into his ear. "Do you have an overnight bag or something?"

"Yeah. It's in the car."

"Okay." He seems to take the hint and moves to the bedroom to pull on his clothes. I quickly wash the dishes and emerge from the kitchen as he enters with a garment bag, which I hang in the closet.

Returning to him, I start pulling off his shirt, followed by his jeans. He looks a little surprised but I ignore it and keep undressing him. Once I have him naked, I pull him toward the bathroom.

"What are we doing, Alex?" His chocolate brown eyes are smiling.

"Showering. I'm a little raunchier than I can stand."

I lean into the tub, adjusting the water temperature, trying to gauge what a normal shower temperature is. I step in and he follows. The aggrieved expression on his face tells me I didn't quite get the temperature right. I turn the hot down a little more. "Better?"

"Yeah. Alex-"

I cut him off with my mouth. My mind becomes pleasantly fuzzy as our tongues tangle and he begins to press past my lips. Gasping, I break the kiss and step under the shower spray. I let the water run down my face, quickly wash my hair, then grab for the soap.

Walter reaches for me, one hand caressing my chest and the other a thigh.

Wanting to get the bathing thing done quickly, I don't try to deflect Walter's hands, but don't encourage him or participate, despite my skin sizzling everywhere he touches. I step under the water to rinse and suddenly feel frantic... frantic to get what I want.

Walter looks perplexed by the rapid shower but I don't bother trying to explain, I just go after him. Feeling more comfortable with assertiveness than anything else that's happened today, I press his back against the wall and start with his ear. I trace the contours with my tongue and suck his earlobe into my mouth. Moving down his neck, I lick and nip a path to his collarbone and then his chest.

"Alex..." He cuts himself off and gasps as my lips close over one of his nipples. I suck it firmly into my mouth, rolling my tongue over it. It feels so good to touch him, I'm almost light headed. Turning my attention to the other nipple, I give it the same treatment.

His breathing is heavy and his hands have gone idle. He seems to understand and accept that this is my show.

Unable to reach anything else while standing, I drop to my knees and begin exploring his stomach with my lips. I dip my tongue into his navel, enjoying the salty taste of his skin... glad I decided not to wash him first. The assertiveness suddenly morphs into a desire to make him feel incredible pleasure. To brand this encounter on his memory.

I explore the scars on his stomach, tracing them with my tongue and sucking a round shaped one into my mouth, before moving on to the juncture where hip meets thigh.

His hand finds the side of my neck, fingers gently brushing the sensitive skin.

He's already half hard. I run my tongue along the shaft, moving to pull his balls, one at a time, into my mouth.

His deep groan reverberates in the shower.

I want to suck him off, but not until I can have the feeling of his fully erect cock sliding across my tongue and invading my throat.

Caressing his balls with my lips, I reach between his legs, nudging them apart, so I can massage the sensitive spot behind his scrotum. My mouth wanders to the inside of his thigh, sucking hard enough to leave a purple mark, then I trail my tongue down to his knee. I move my mouth to the other knee and repeat the caress in reverse.

I slide both hands up his torso, delighting in the contours of his muscles and the texture of his chest hair under my palms. After pinching his nipples lightly, I stroke his ribs, then reach around to grab the flesh of his ass. I knead the firm muscles, feeling increasingly impatient to have his cock in my mouth.

My fingers slide between the cheeks of his ass while I continue to tongue his balls. I begin a subtle massaging motion with my fingertips along the inside of his ass cheeks and then around his anus.

"Fuck, that feels good," he murmurs.

He's erect now and my patience evaporates. I let my brain defocus and my throat relax, then suck him down.

Walter rewards me with a guttural growl almost too low to be audible.

It's like getting high... the throbbing against my tongue, the slightly salty taste, the hard presence penetrating my throat. I'm still surprised by how much I enjoy this. Surprised by how hard I get with his cock in my mouth. The endorphins pump into my system.

I move my mouth on his shaft, allowing my tongue to lave the head before quickly taking him back down my throat. I groan with pleasure and feel him shudder as the vibrations move through his cock.

I suck him with a firm, purposeful rhythm designed to quickly bring him to orgasm. When I feel his balls begin to pull up and tighten, I release his cock and back off.

He blinks down at me, looking dazed. I like that. I want to keep having that effect on him.

I pull at his hip, trying to get him to turn around. The time it takes him to rotate feels like an eternity. I growl low in my throat and part his ass cheeks with my hands.

My brain function flatlines from pleasure as I tongue the tight ring of his anus. The firm muscles of his butt quivering under my hands set up a complementary reaction in my body. I find myself trembling as I thrust my tongue into his ass.

Hands pressed against the wall of my shower, his moans are interrupted with sputtering attempts to breathe.

Repeatedly spearing the sensitive flesh with my tongue, I become aware of my own state of arousal. My cock is painfully hard... I need to come. Soon.

I thrust into him one last time, then suck and lick at the sensitive flesh. I can't wait anymore.

Pulling back, I tug at his body and he turns around. Before he's fully leaning against the wall, I take him back into my mouth, nearly bruising my throat in my haste. My hands shake as I brace against his hips. I suck him hard, pulling my mouth on and off his erection with nearly punishing force.

His hand finds the back of my neck and his hips begin to thrust. An objection rises as he takes control. But as he holds my head and fucks my face, it blurs into satisfaction... and rightness... and need. I reach for my own erection.

I only have to stroke myself twice before I feel the explosion of orgasm. My yell is muffled by the pulsing cock in my mouth, and I'm only dimly aware of his cum spilling down my throat. I swallow instinctively and feel reality completely give way as I release him and slump to the floor of the shower.

**

Damn. Amazing that I got it up again that quickly. Alex is the perfect antidote to aging.

My enthusiastic lover is now a lump on the floor of the shower. He stays up all night, nearly passes out from not eating, and then sucks me into oblivion while jacking himself off.

My legs feel heavy and sluggish. I grab the soap and give myself a quick rinsing off. Then I shift the water spray to the side and squat to see if I can revive Alex. I squeeze his shoulder. "You alive?"

"Mmm... no." Alex awkwardly sprawls out on the bathtub floor, languidly stretching and working out the kinks. He looks at me from beneath his lashes, flashing me a weary, satiated grin. "Thanks, Walter." His voice is low and rough. "I've been thinking about that since Sunday."

I smile down at him. "It's a lot better without the Attorney General." Extending a hand, I suggest, "Let's go to bed, Alex."

Once standing, he seems capable of movement, so I step out and allow him to wash up again. I hear him turn a knob and then groan. A few seconds later, steam is billowing over the shower doors. I guess he likes his showers on the hot side.

Five minutes later we're changing the sheets on his bed. I feel an odd sort of nervousness, and I realize I'm feeling shy... something I haven't felt in over fifteen years. My ears flush as I realize what it is; I'm hoping he likes me. Fuck. I chuckle at myself as I straighten the bedcovers.

Green eyes flash at me suspiciously. "What?"

Sorry, Alex. We're not going there. Way beyond my ability to cope.

Making my face go serious, I approach nonchalantly and trip him so he falls on the bed. I follow him down, landing halfway on top. We wrestle a little and he lets me pin him, so I pretend to take a kiss by force.

He goes with the pretense for a moment, then moans and opens his mouth for my tongue's exploration. I break the kiss and pull him to my chest, stroking the side of his face.

The uncomfortable feelings I have for him don't seem to be going away. I guess I'll have to live with it.

"Night, Alex."

He doesn't reply but tilts his head, and I briefly feel the press of his lips against my chest.

I try not to worry and allow myself to drift off to sleep.


Friday, 10 June 1994
3:27 A.M.

Waking in the dark, I glance to my left for the familiar lighted dial of my alarm clock and discover I'm not in my bedroom. The bed next to me is empty.

Rising, I head for the bathroom, spotting Alex sitting on the living room floor, head tilted downward, reading a file. In the glow of the lamp, his skin looks golden. His hair is pleasingly disheveled. I call out to him, "Hey."

He glances up. The look of concentration leaves his face and his expression softens. "Hi." His voice is throaty and sensual, then he frowns a little. "Did I wake you?"

I shake my head. "How long have you been working?"

"A couple of hours."

"If you come back to bed, I'll give you a backrub." I just want to touch him again, while I can.

Alex looks faintly surprised but closes the file and rises to his feet. He has on those raggedy jeans he wore during dinner.

When I return from the bathroom, Alex is naked again and sitting against the headboard with one knee pulled to his chest.

If we fuck again, I think my dick will fall off. I sit next to him and squeeze his shoulder. "Lie on your belly."

He gracefully eases into the requested position.

Starting with his neck, I work my fingers vigorously into the muscles, sensing the tight spots and providing plenty of pressure to eradicate them.

Alex groans, and I feel the tension begin to drain out of his body. He mumbles into the pillow, "...good at this, Walter."

By the time the massage reaches his thighs, we're both yawning. I give each of his calves a quick squeeze and slide up next to him, thinking I'll start at the bottom next time.

In the morning, my internal alarm clock wakes me a little after 5:00. Attempting to slip out of bed without waking him, I move very slowly.

Without warning, an arm clamps around my waist. I turn and meet my lover's sleepy gaze. "Don't tell me you're getting up already?" His voice has a sleep roughened edge.

A few more minutes won't hurt. Relaxing into his embrace, I nuzzle the side of his face. The blankets and sheet have been pushed away in the night. Alex lies nude, looking like a sensual painting in the dim light creeping through the blinds. I put a hand on his stomach and explore the surface of his skin with my fingertips.

He slides closer to me and drapes a leg over my thighs. His hands and mouth begin exploring my chest and shoulders. A light flick of his tongue across my nipple, his fingertips sliding along my ribs, then over my shoulder and down my arm. He caresses my chest with his tongue, returning repeatedly to my nipples. Pulling his leg up, he brushes his thigh across my crotch.

Until that moment, I hadn't taken my morning erection very seriously. "You know, Alex. It won't look good when they find an FBI executive orgasmed to death in your bed."

His laughter vibrates against my chest. "Walter, I promise... I would never let that happen." He looks up at me with an evil grin. "There's no way they would ever find the body."

Alex slides down my legs and sucks my cock into his throat. My hips give an involuntary, startled jerk before the sensations hit and I dissolve into the mattress.

His mouth works my cock until I'm few moments from orgasm, then backs off. He kneels up, looking a little dazed, and I notice he has become fully erect.

Alex shifts off the bed and retrieves a condom and lube. The packet is ripped open as he climbs back on the bed, then he quickly rolls it onto my erection. He strokes lube on my dick, then slides up next to me. His mouth seeks out my ear and neck, and he whispers, "Hard and fast, Walter." His breath catches. "Please."

"Hands and knees." I smear lube on my fingers as he shifts his body into position, spreading his legs enticingly. I tease his anus briefly, enjoying the purring sound he makes, before carefully pushing both fingers inside him at once.

Alex's ass is pushing back at me hard. I slide a third finger inside him. He groans but accepts the intrusion. When I hold my hand still for a moment, he does all the work, impaling himself on my fingers. Then I withdraw, shift into position over his crouched body and push my cock all the way inside him. He gasps at the penetration, a shudder passing through him.

Pausing, because I have to, I think about how good this feels. Waking up next to the warm body of a man I care about. Getting up to face the workday, but instead being seduced and hijacked for a quick fuck. There's more to life than work, Walt. A lot more.

Never patient, Alex writhes and whimpers with need.

I take a deep breath and begin to give it to him. Sliding out most of the way before I shove back inside... My balls slap against his body with each heavy thrust. Deep guttural sounds are torn out of his throat every time I slam into him. The rough physicality of sex with Alex is so appealing. It's incredibly satisfying to really use your body this way. Like running instead of jogging. Putting everything you have into the experience. I up the ante and put more body weight behind my fucking.

My fingers bite into his hips. I'm going to leave marks again. But there's no way I can fuck him this hard without holding on tightly. And I know we both want it.

Alex reaches up to grab the slats of the headboard. He braces his arms and pushes back against me, meeting every thrust. I hit his prostate on the next one and he cries out. He drops one hand from the headboard and reaches for his cock.

No way, boy.

My hand seizes his arm, tugging it away from his cock, before I even have a chance to realize how possessive I'm being. Still fucking him hard, I shake my head, shocked by my own behavior. And by how much it turns me on, bringing me perilously close to orgasm.

He gives a frustrated grunt but slaps his hand back against the headboard, gripping hard. His muscles are bunched and tense, then suddenly something changes. The visible tension drains from his body. No longer bracing against the headboard, he's just holding, almost hanging from it. His knees slide further apart and he drops his head.

Fucking Christ, that's beautiful. The only thing more stimulating than my domineering behavior is Alex succumbing to it.

I put my last reserve of energy into the fucking, my hips pounding into him. Alex is clinging to the headboard with a white-knuckled grip. I reach under his body and grab his cock. The head is slippery. I rub the tip thoroughly with my thumb before sliding my fingers down the underside to jerk him off. Come first, you sexy fucker. I'm too far gone to spit out the words.

"Fuck... Walter..." His voice is rough and uneven. Tremors rack his body and strangled sounds of pleasure erupt from his throat as he begins to come. His ass clenches tightly around my cock as the orgasm washes through him and triggers my climax.

Like the fucking, my own orgasm is fast and hard. My groans and his make a cacophony that seems oddly distant to me, as I drown in pleasure-rich sensation.

I slump onto his back, and we tumble onto the bed. It's a cool morning, but our bodies are sticking together with sweat. After my breathing and muscle tension revive a bit, I slip out of him. Tying off the condom, I jettison it onto the bedside table and flop onto my back.

I nudge him with my hip. "Morning, Alex."

"Mmm..." He turns his head to look at me. "Fuck. You're such a bullshitter, Walter." He rolls onto his side, facing me.

"What?" My hand finds his chest, fingers brushing against his smooth, nearly hairless skin.

"I think it's clear that I will be the one killed by sex. Christ, you have the stamina of a horse." He winds an arm around my waist, idly running his fingers along my ribs. "Umm... not that I'm complaining."

What man doesn't want to hear that? I give him a tough guy look, concealing my delight at his praise. "You've got no grounds for complaint since you keep seducing me." A stray strand of hair looks out of place on his forehead, so I brush it back.

Alex gives me a look of mock seriousness. "You've been so horribly victimized. It must be awful." He pats my shoulder in a sympathetic gesture. "I feel for you."

Rolling my eyes, I add, "Not that I'm complaining, but it is a little disconcerting that my dick seems unable to say no to you."

Alex laughs and starts to say something, but is cut off when an obnoxious beeping noise fills the room. He groans and rolls over to switch off the alarm. Rolling back to me, he props his chin on my chest. "I'll try to behave for the rest of the morning." He strokes the side of my face. There's a flash of surprise on his features as he pulls his hand away.

He sits up and moves to the edge of the bed, looking back at me. "Do you want to shower first?"

"Okay. It doesn't take me very long... no hair."

When I step out of the shower a few minutes later, Alex is waiting. I wrap an arm around his waist and bring my mouth to his. He tastes minty.

Our tongues tangle briefly, then he steps into the shower. Within a few seconds there's a lot more steam in the bathroom. It's a bit of a challenge trying to shave in the fogged-up mirror.

I'm putting on my briefs when he enters the bedroom, the skin of his back lobster red. Apparently he likes to parboil himself in the shower.

He gets dressed from the waist down and exits the bedroom, speaking over his shoulder. "The breakfast menu is rather limited. Orange juice and granola bars. Interested?"

"I'll have orange juice." I knot my tie in front of the mirror, then follow him to the dining room.

Alex hands me a glass of juice. We're both a little startled when the phone rings.

He looks at it as if it might bite and reluctantly answers it. "Yeah." He listens for a second, then sighs heavily. I hear my cell phone chirp from the bedroom as Alex replies, "Where?"

I have a bad feeling about this. Retrieving my cell, I answer the call. "Skinner."

"Sir, it's Robert Baker. Seventh Rose Killer victim was found about an hour ago."

Fuck. We should've caught the bastard already. "Give me a summary."

"Victim found in a warehouse in Baltimore. Preliminary report from local law enforcement is of a disemboweled Hispanic female in her early twenties with a purple rose in her mouth. Forensic team is already en route and we're calling the investigative team now." He doesn't even have to tell me that this victim firmly illustrates there is no obvious pattern to these killings. First victim under 30 and first Hispanic.

Here we go again. "Baker, try to step back from coordinating the team and examine every aspect of the site yourself. You're the most experienced agent there. Maybe you'll see something Agent Kym has missed."

Alex steps into the room, looking grim.

I shake my head in disgust.

His movements are completely silent as he pulls on his shirt.

Baker replies, "Yes, sir. I'll call you with an update as soon as I have the initial report from the forensic team."

"And call me sooner if you need anything." Damn, I hate that there's nothing I can do.

"Yes, sir."

After terminating the call, I guzzle the last of the juice, then step over to Alex. "On your way to Baltimore?"

He nods while tucking in his shirt. From the dresser, he grabs a sheathed knife, securing it to his belt. Not standard gear for a federal agent, and I wonder where he picked up the habit.

After removing a speck of lint from his collar, I give him a quick kiss on the temple. Then I tug on my suit coat and close up the garment bag, depositing it by Alex's front door. A mental review of my day's schedule keeps me occupied until he joins me in the living room.

I curl an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "Thank you for last night."

Alex's hands slide under my suit coat and up my back. "I liked having you here." His mouth finds mine. The kiss is so much better than the workday is going to be. As our tongues tangle in his mouth, I regret the need to break away. My lips trail up the side of his face into his hair.

"The team could get the Rose today," I offer, trying to sound positive, but trying not to put pressure on him.

He gives a grim parody of a smile. "I appreciate the optimism, but if you heard the same victim profile I did, we're even further away from solving this." He sighs and shakes his head. "Will I see you again?"

"Yes, but I don't know when. I'm supposed to go to Kansas City next week, but that depends on where we are with the Rose." Back to that gloomy topic. "I'll call you over the weekend."

He nods and steps away. Grabbing his bag off the floor he says, "Kansas City? Sounds like I may have the better assignment." He leans in for a quick, hard kiss and reaches for the doorknob. "I'll talk to you this weekend."

As he disappears toward the parking garage, I catch myself hoping he gets some sleep tonight. You're in too deep, Walter. This affair with Alex is rapidly becoming a relationship of sorts. There's no question this is a problem. No easy fix either.

**

Within ten minutes, I'm fighting traffic on the beltway, heading for Baltimore. And thinking about Walter.

I enjoyed waking up with him this morning. And I don't know what to make of that. What is this? This could almost be described as a... relationship.

Christ, just the thought is weird. Walter is such a classic alpha male. Until a couple of weeks ago, I would have said alpha males had no place in my sex life.

And perhaps the strangest thing is my overall lack of discomfort with the situation. Despite some unease, I haven't hesitated at moving on with this. Whatever this is. Aside from the incredible sex, I'm starting to enjoy his presence. And for now, I don't want to do anything about it.

So, if this is turning into a relationship, I can't really bring myself to care.

Fifty minutes after leaving Walter at the foot of the stairs, I arrive at the crime scene. The warehouse parking lot is swarming with Baltimore PD and FBI. I park my car and flash my badge at the rookie cop assigned to be gatekeeper.

I spot Unit Manager Kym with several members of the team near the warehouse door. As I start toward them, Baker and Agent Gough emerge, deep in discussion. Gough looks up and calls me over. As I approach them, she tosses me a pair of latex gloves.

Baker jumps in, looking about three feet tall next to the willowy Gough. "Krycek, work with the forensic team." Fuck. Not again. He gives me an assessing look. "You up for this? The victim's age and gender shouldn't make a difference but," he looks toward the door of the warehouse, "for some reason, it does."

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Dead bodies are not exactly a novelty for me, but I don't usually have to tiptoe around their intestines. Guns are so much nicer. And tidier.

"Check in with Agent Kym when you're finished."

Shrugging out of my jacket, I start rolling up my sleeves and step inside.

Fortunately, this time, there isn't much of an odor. The smell at the last crime scene was very nearly my undoing. Despite having seen--and been responsible for--a number of dead bodies, I've never encountered a smell like that. And don't particularly want to ever again.

The forensic team is still unpacking. Looks like they only beat me here by ten minutes or so. There's not much light in the warehouse and portable halogen lamps are being set up. Everyone stands back from the body while the scene is photographed.

God, what a mess. The slim naked body lying in a large pool of blood with a perfect purple rose resting in her open mouth. It would almost look like art, if it weren't for the spill of intestines.

Another photo flash and the forensic team is suddenly in motion.

It feels like hours pass before I step out into the parking lot, blinking in the bright sunlight. I glance around, taking in the changes. There's a small crowd beyond the police lines, some local cops, but I see none of our team. Except Section Chief Baker, who appears to be fending off a few lingering reporters. They hauled the body off about an hour ago, so there's not much to see anymore.

I walk around to the side of the warehouse, facing a deserted alley and sit on the ground, back against the building, letting my mind blank for a few minutes.

Suddenly, the sun is obscured and I glance up to see my jacket hanging in front of my face. Forgot I took it off... must have left it inside. I look up further and see the diminutive Baker holding the jacket in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. I wonder how long I've been sitting here.

I reach for the jacket and drape it over my knees. "Thanks."

He sighs and sits next to me, handing me the cup of coffee. I take a sip. I've never cared for coffee, and this cup confirms the reason why, but I slowly drink it anyway.

Baker asks, "Anything new on this one?" His question seems like a formality. Besides, he probably knows the answer better than I do. The forensic pathologist certainly doesn't answer my questions.

"Not so far. They'll go over the body with a microscope later, but it looks the same as the other six. Nothing."

"You okay?" Rather abrupt change of subject. His voice seems carefully neutral.

"Yeah. Fine."

He watches me for a second, fingers worrying his moustache, but doesn't say anything.

After a few moments of silence slip past, I ask, "Where's the rest of the team?"

"On the way back to D.C. to prepare the vic profile. Body was dumped before dawn in a business district." Baker shrugs. "Very few people to interview." He pauses for a moment. "Come on. Let's head back... traffic is already going to suck, no point in waiting for it to get even worse."

On the way to our cars, I find myself asking, "Did we get anything today?"

"We found a shoe but it doesn't seem likely that it belongs to her. Shoe looks like the kind an old lady would wear... maybe a nurse. Not something you'd find on your average twenty-something."

This case is terminally depressing.

Baker opens his car door and looks at me. "So, Krycek, do you think this guy is brilliant or incredibly lucky?"

I actually consider the question for a moment. No one is that brilliant. "Un-fucking-believably lucky, sir."

Baker nods and then stares at me for a moment. For some reason, his concerned watchfulness makes me think of Arntzen's worried speculation. It's as if he expects me to start frothing at the mouth or seek refuge in a straight jacket.

At my non-reaction, he continues in a more businesslike tone, "Take time to eat, change... whatever. We have a briefing in two and a half hours, I'll see you then."

I acknowledge the offer with a curt nod as he climbs into his car.

**

The news from Baltimore is more bad news. The latest victim, the youngest at 26, is employed by the IRS. Baker's team despairs of finding a pattern. I despair of phoning the Attorney General with more non-progress, but I make the call anyway.

Since there's so little I can do to help, I leave work around six. On the drive home, I try not to think about the aggravating case. I try not to think about going home. I try not to think about him. But in the end, he wins out.

'I liked having you here.'

Damn.

Sharon's surprised to see me before 7:00.

"How was New York?" I inquire politely.

She looks up from a salad. "There's more in the kitchen."

"Thanks."

"I've identified two new artists I'd like to bring here. A moody portraitist and a sensual sculptor."

Alex's devastatingly sexy legs... as he strips for me.

"Do you think you'll be able to recruit them?" I ask as I retrieve the salad ingredients from the refrigerator.

"I'm optimistic about the man who does the portraits. His show in Manhattan is closing next week. I'm not sure about the other."

Sharon always prepares more than she needs, so it's easy for me to assemble a meal. It probably gets thrown away more often than I eat it.

"Would you bring me more tea, Walter?"

Going to 7-11 for tea and leaving me to meet his ex-boyfriend. '... baby just suits you.'

I bring my own salad to the table and pass her the teapot. I watch her eat for a few minutes. She's a beautiful woman... elegant, graceful, intelligent, feminine yet strong. But she doesn't make my dick hard any more.

Waking up next to him... he brushes his thigh across my crotch. My body is tuned to his frequency. The reaction is unpreventable, no matter how inappropriate.

"Are you going to work in the shop this weekend?"

Huh? Oh. I haven't since the day he came here. "Maybe. I don't have any projects started."

"Do you have any ideas?"

The words come automatically, without thought. "A table for the front hall, with a locking drawer for my gun."

She nods politely, her face showing realization that my mind is elsewhere. No doubt she believes it to be on the job.

The truth is I'm cheating on her. She's a good woman who doesn't deserve that, but I can't stop.

Alex on his back, distressed at the prospect of being fucked like that. Probably afraid of the intimacy. I'm afraid, too. Giving him orders in bed, so I can try to control this unstoppable thing between us.

'I liked having you here.'

** End Part 2 **


Feedback feeds our muses!

Zoe Takashi & Louise Wu,  Email Us

Next part in series

For more information about method slash writing, or to see our other stories:
http://slashfactory.com/


Back to LZL Home Back to Exigency Page