Christmas Present

by Amazon X

Smokey Mountains
West Virginia

The man dressed in snow camouflage crept around the cabin, allowing the dark night to envelope him completely. He waited for two days to come up to the cabin, to see why the man hadn't left his winter refuge. He'd arrived three days ago, and promptly, when looking around the back yard, fell into an iced-over stream. Oh, he cursed and threw sticks into the hole as he screamed, and Alex couldn't help but laugh, if into his sleeve to maintain silence, at the way the man wallowed in the water.

It was the next day that Alex lacked seeing any signs of activity in the house. The fire that had been built up in the hearth had burned low, and the lights hadn't gone on. If it weren't for the fact that Alex had to check in each night, he would have entered the cabin to see why Walter stopped moving about inside. The third day dawned, Christmas Eve day, and Alex had had enough. He made his report via his satellite cellular phone, one that did not need a "relay station" to connect to his calls, and reported that there was no activity in the cabin and that he believed he did not see Walter on the premises and believed he had, in fact, left. Alex stated he was leaving.

As he made his way to the front of the cabin, Alex swirled the last words of the smoking man around in his head. "You have yourself a merry little Christmas, now, Alex."

The bastard hung up, a giggle on his lips. He knew damned well that Alex was alone, parents both dead from illness and no siblings or relatives in America. A few choice Russian words under Alex's breath and he moved to the door. Walter was a trusting man when he was on vacation. The front door was open. He pushed it wide and pointed his weapon in first, and when no return fire was offered, he peeked in. The stench inside was overpowering.

"Close the fucking door," came the moan from somewhere inside the room.

Walter lay on the floor, close to the hearth, trying to leech out the last bits of warmth from the dying embers in the fireplace. There was a puddle of vomit beside him, and it smelled as if he hadn't made it to the bathroom, either. Christ, it was a fucking disaster.

"Leave it, the stink is killing me," Alex rasped.

"Mulder?" Walter said. "If you''re sick, don't come in. Scully with you? Mulder?"

Walter hoped it was his most intrepid agent and faithful sidekick. He knew he had a bad case of the flu that was quickly developing into pneumonia. It was embarrassing as all hell the state he was in, but that couldn't be helped. If Mulder didn't close the door and stoke up the fire, and let Scully work on him, he'd be gone in a matter of hours. What a way to die, on the floor beside a puddle of vomit in soiled underwear. His mother was rolling over in her grave.

Alex went straight to the fireplace and began a flame from the kindling box. Walter knew how to keep supplies for his cabin, at least. Before long, the fire was going, but Alex could see Walter had begun to shiver. Reluctantly, he closed the front door, and it did nothing for the stink in the room. Now, to clean Walter and then clean the room, so he could get warm.

It was an arduous process, and Walter moaned over and over, begging Mulder to allow Scully to help him, but Alex washed Walter with hot water, dressed him in his warmest pajamas and socks, and with a roaring fire, he left Walter on his couch, and began cleaning the floor with the Lysol he found in the kitchen. He hadn't felt this disgusted since he was...striped before the smoking man to show him the scars left from the oil alien leaving his body.

When all was clean and fresh-smelling again, Alex went to the kitchen to begin heating soup and water for tea. Warm things for Walter to drink. After two days of lying on the floor, flu all through him, he needed fluids and rest. After Walter was out of danger, he would leave and call Mulder to get Scully and help him. Until then, he was the only one there. And it would help if Walter would stop calling him Mulder.

By the afternoon, just before the sun had set, the house was toasty, smelling of the slow-roasting chicken in the oven. It was as good a Christmas Eve meal as any. Skinner kept the house stocked. He must have been planning on staying there a while. He'd taken time off for Christmas, but Alex assumed it was to visit with his brother's and sister's families in Texas. Alas, he was spending the most joyous of holidays alone, as did Alex every year since he could remember. And that wasn't as long as one with think. The Consortium had ways of making one forget. How many times had Mulder and Scully been through the process?

Alex sat in the easy chair, staring at Walter as he slept. He'd held the man sitting up against his chest to feed soup and tea and more soup to him. And all the while, Walter said, "Thank you, Mulder." Walter's fever had gone down, thanks to the Tylenol Alex kept feeding him. The man didn't even put up a tree, although there were boxes of ornaments sitting under the bay window. There was a saw propped up by the door. Alex knew what his next job was.

It had been a long time since he'd cut anything with a saw, but the tree came down with a minimum of fuss. Walter was organized and thorough, all the tree accoutrements laid out where he wanted to put the tree, in the corner, with the stand waiting. Alex hadn’t helped put up a Christmas tree since...well, that was part of that memory thing. But how hard could it really be?

“Mulder, stop messing with my Christmas tree. Just leave it.”

“Has to go up,” was all Alex said. He didn’t count on Walter being more coherent.

“Who’s that? Mulder?” Walter tried to sit up, but he was squinting in the low light without his glasses.

“It’s not Mulder,” Alex said, and walked over to the hearth were he’d put Walter’s glasses for safe keeping. The man was still shivering under the blanket, so Alex slipped the frames on his face. A few blinks and his eyes came to rest on Alex. Alex couldn’t help but laugh as Walter fished around under the blanket for his weapon.

“It’s in the bedroom drawer where you left it, Walter,” he said, then went back to stringing the lights around the tree.

“What the hell did you do to Mulder and Scully, you son of a bitch!” Walter shouted, then tried to get up from the couch.

“They were never here.”

“What?” The sound of disbelief in Walter’s voice almost made Alex sad. For the entire day, Walter had believed his prized agents were helping him, and not his mortal enemy.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Who bathed me? Who fed me? Who changed my clothes?” Walter’s voice turned from anger to fear, touched with hysteria. “You? Why?”

“If I didn’t, you’d have died in a puddle of puke with dirty shorts. Do you think your mother would want that?” Alex began hanging the ornaments, but took a step back to view the placement. He wanted them to be evenly dispersed.

“My mother died years ago. What do you care how I’m found? How did you get here?” Walter’s yelling was cut off by a coughing fit. Alex put the wooden horse he was holding on the window sill and walked over, pulling tissues from a box on a side table. He handed them to Walter and knelt beside him to help Walter sit up to cough.

Reluctantly, Walter allowed the assistance, but quickly pulled away, as if having been burned. Alex backed away and knelt before the fire, poking at it to open the embers to put a few more logs on. The sound of Walter coughing behind him shot a pang of grief through his chest. Walter did not sound good, and if Alex didn’t get him help soon, it may not be a question of whether Walter wants his help or not.

Alex stood and something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He walked to the windows and saw little flakes of snow starting to fall. The dead, dry lawn around the cabin had a light dusting of snow. This was not a good thing. If the snow got deep, they wouldn’t be able to drive out to a doctor. Or get one in.

The bell in the kitchen dinged and Alex went in to get the chicken from the oven.

“What’s that?” Walter asked, sparking another fit of coughing.

“Dinner.” Alex went to the kitchen and removed the chicken from the oven. The vegetables around the edge were roasted nicely, a little crispy on the outside, but tender inside. Alex was surprised that Walter had brought so many fresh carrots, potatoes and onions with him. Had he been planning his own Christmas dinner?

The coughing drifted in from the living room, alerting Alex to his patient. With the chicken covered in foil resting on the counter top, he went to the bathroom to see what medicine Walter kept at his cabin. There was a cold syrup and NyQuil, which is was everyone's best friend. After getting a tablespoon and a glass of water, Alex went into the living room. Walter was laying back on the couch, which had been pushed close to the fireplace, and had settled down, as if to try and sleep. Alex almost felt guilty.

"Hey, Walt, wake up. You need a little medicine for that cough." Walter stirred a bit, but he didn't wake the way Alex wanted. A smile crept across Alex's face with a wicked thought tickling at the back of his brain. Alex put his supplies on the coffee table, then knelt beside Walter. Gentle fingers barely touched the skin as Alex brushed his fingers over Walter's scalp. He'd always wanted to touch that bald head.

Walter stirred and opened his eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked, sleep in his voice.

"You need meds, Walt," Alex said, voice at a higher pitch as if talking to a child. Alex prepared a spoonful. "Open up, big boy."

"I hate that stuff," Walter said, trying to retreat under the blanket.

"You know you need it," Alex said, spoon at the ready.

Without warning, Walter sat up and looked directly into Alex's eyes, still a bit hazy with fever. "Why are you doing this?"

"Did you want to die?" Alex asked.

"How did you know?"

"Angels told me. Take your medicine."

Walter allowed Alex to feed him two spoonfuls of cold syrup and the glass of water. He sniffed at the air. "Dinner smells good."

"I just baked a chicken. Are you hungry?"

"A little."

Alex nodded and stood. "I'll fix a plate and bring it."

"There's a bottle of white wine in the fridge."

"And you'll OD with the cold medicine. No way."

Walter pouted, but Alex didn't relent. It must have been the cold medicine, but Alex thought that Walter may have softened just a tad while they ate. Alex went out to check the level of the snow, and to bring some wood in to dry for the fire.

"How is it outside?" Walter asked, putting his empty plate on the coffee table.

"Getting deeper out there. You got about four inches down, and no sign of stopping. How is this place for electricity? Water? Heat?"

"The utilities are propane. I have a generator in the cellar out back. The tank was topped off the day before I got out here. I should be good for a month. Water comes from a stream not too far..."

"Yeah, saw that," Alex said, without thinking. Shit!

"How long have you been here?" Walter said.

"Three days, sleeping in tent. I could use a shower myself."

"Where's your pack?" Walter asked, looking around. Alex was dressed in his traditional black clothing.

"Out on the porch. I wasn't planning on staying long. But the snow..."

"It's snowing?" Walter asked.

"Yeah, so, keep dreaming of that white Christmas." Alex went out onto the porch and brought in his backpack. “Hey, you got laundry in this place?” Alex asked, looking around.

“Service porch off the kitchen. Help yourself.” With that, Walter settled down under the blanket, pulled his glasses off and made an honest effort to get them on the table, and fell asleep. Alex squatted before his pack for a few minutes just watching. The years melted from his face, giving him the same look he had when Alex had first met him, back in the academy, when the smoking man had recruited him. No one had any inkling that Alex was anything other than straight as an arrow, and bedding Marita Covarubias was the perfect cover. It galled him, but he made it believable.

There was a moment, just a fleeting glance caught across the room, but Alex always held onto the thought that when Walter had walked into the academy gym and looked over at Alex on the treadmill, clad only in running shorts and a fine sheen of sweat, there was a look of appraisal, and lust. It kept Alex sane at times, kept him from falling into a deep despair, after losing his arm. Just having had it given back by Jeremiah Smith didn’t erase the pain of losing it, just the difficulty in not having it.

Alex went to the bathroom and undressed, showered and walked to the service porch, wearing the only clean boxer briefs he had with him, otherwise, unclad. The porch was cold, but not as much as if it were outside. The glass in the windows was some kind of thermal glass, but it wasn’t perfect. The hair on the back of Alex’s arms began to rise with his goose bumps. He looked down with pride at his left arm. It took a long time to come to terms with his handicap, only to have it magically removed, and his arm restored. Whatever the case, it was helpful to tie his shoes again.

When Alex had clean clothes again, or at least, something to wear other than an old bathrobe of Walter’s which was not something Alex wanted to torture himself wearing all night, he went back to the living room to sit.

Thankfully, Walter had a nice little library in his living room, so Alex settled with a book, a spy novel, and tried to keep his eyes on both Walter and the fire. After three days in the woods outside the house, Alex was more tired than he thought and found himself drifting. That wasn’t any good. Alex stood and began pacing. He looked at his watch. It was 8:30 PM. How could it only be 8:30? Days are shorter...

Sighing, Alex looked around the house. It was a solid little cabin, even if it was in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t look like Walter had built it himself, either. The deed on record said he bought it while he was still married. Records from the Consortium showed she never accompanied him to the cabin.

Alex found the control to the central heating and jacked it up to a toasty 78 degrees. He could slack on fire duty, and possibly get some rest. He would still occupy the chair in the living room though, considering he wanted to watch Walter just for tonight. His coughing had stilled with the cold medicine.

It was a long and uncomfortable night, but when the first gray light of dawn began to lighten the room, Alex rose and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the room and saw that Walter hadn’t moved much in the night, and the fire had burned down. Stoking it up wouldn’t be too hard, but Alex’s back was not happy from sleeping in that chair. He had to admit, he was getting older. Getting out of the game was the smartest move he’d made. Sure, there were things left to do, but the new generation, the few agents he recruited himself, spanning from the FBI and CIA to the European and Asian counterparts. They would ensure that the damage already done was reversed and no more would take place.

One thing he made sure to put into motion was find, exonerating and reuniting Mulder with Scully and their baby. That would happen by the end of this year. 2006 would not go out lonely for anyone. Thankfully, not Walter, or himself.

Alex luxuriated in another shower, shaved, fixed his hair and walked out of the bathroom almost whistling. It was Christmas morning, he was still alive, and he was with someone who he hadn’t thought he’d ever be this close to in his life. Alex’s mind wandered to the sponge bath he’d given Walter, how his hands glided over Walter’s skin, noting the hard muscles still evident under the layer of “padding” Walter had developed. They were both getting older, but it didn’t make Walter any less sexy to Alex. Thinking about those strong arms wrapped around him kept him from completely losing all hope at times, especially in the bowels of the Tunisian prison. That hell hole was almost more than he could bear. A few twisted necks proved he wasn’t a fight worth starting. Having Walter on his side, convincing Mulder that he should be listened to was like music to his ears.

Coffee was brewing in the kitchen, Walter knew that much. He could smell again. That was good. He cleared his throat a bit, and the scratchiness from the say before had disappeared and most likely, his cough would be gone soon as well. He needed that, to eat a good meal, take some syrup and rest. Who the hell was making...Krycek.

Alex fucking Krycek was in his kitchen, making coffee. What the hell did he want?

“Hey, Krycek!” Walter shouted. “Get out of my house!”

Alex turned to the door of the living room. The yelling didn’t deter him a bit. He strode into the room and stood over Walter on the couch. “You would have died if I hadn’t come here.”

“I would have been...”

“Found dead in a puddle of vomit, having shit your pants, and frozen to death only feet away from a pile of wood to stoke the fire. Is that what you wanted?”


“Forget it. I spent time in college as an orderly in a hospital. Nothing shocks me.”

“You...bathed me?”

“Do you not remember yesterday?”

“Not really. It’s kind of hazy. Where did Mulder go?” Alex didn’t smile, or grimace, or anything. His neutral face hid the pain rushing through his chest.

“He was never here. I was the only one here.”

“Oh. Well...thank you.” Walter looked uncertain about what he wanted to do that moment. His body quickly made up his mind. “I should get into the bathroom know.”

Alex reached down and helped Walter to a standing position, and stepped back. Tired, sore and still a little disoriented, Walter made his way through to the bathroom, and when he finally stood in the hot shower, he began to remember the day before, Alex cooking dinner, talking about laundry, even parts of his sponge bath came back to him. Christ, his hands all over Walter, and why was it making him hard? This was not good. Walter could not revisit his fantasies about Alex. It was bad enough he lusted after the boy when he was in the academy, but while Alex was under his command, all he wanted to do was throw the agent over his desk, spank his pert ass to cherry red, then fuck it until the boy screamed in pleasure. This was not a fantasy he indulged in often, and his private therapist told him it was perfectly normal to have fantasies about coworkers, as long as he didn’t jeopardize his career in carrying them out. This was no longer an issue.

Dressed, shaved, and feeling much better, Walter entered the kitchen to find Alex dishing fried eggs, over easy, bacon and potatoes for him. Toast, coffee and juice were already on the table. Walter nodded in approval. “This looks good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Alex said, not giving away anything in his voice.

They ate in silence, although both men shot furtive glances at each other. When the meal had finished, Alex stood to get the plates, but Walter held up his hand. “You cooked, I’ll clean up. It’s...the least I could do for saving my life.”

Alex just nodded and left the room before his face revealed his joy. He went straight to his pack and pulled out the battered box, wrapping torn on the corner, and bow flattened. It was an old gift, something he had wanted to give to Walter years ago, and he carried it around with him whenever he knew he would be near the man. It was fitting to put it under the tree.

When Walter walked into the living room, his eyes went directly to the tree. “You decorated it?” he asked.

Alex had settled in the chair again. “Yup.”

“Thanks. It looks...” Walter looked over at it and walked closer and noticed the package. “What’s that?”

Alex leaned over the chair, novel in hand, and looked at the box. “Looks like a gift to me. Santa must have come in the night.”

“Seriously, where did it come from?” Walter asked, taking a step back.

“Open it and see.” Alex didn’t even look up from the book.


“Do you think I would put myself in harm’s way just to hurt you? Open the fucking box.”

Walter threw an angry look at the top of Alex’s head and went to the box. It was surreal in a way that was threatening to unwind Walter’s tenuous grasp on reality. It wasn’t enough he was shadowed by government conspiracies all the time, but to try and take a moment to have some time to himself, to rest and gather his thoughts, but to have the man he most didn’t want to see, it was just about torture. Not only didn’t Walter want to deal with Alex’s attitude, he didn’t want to deal with looking into his handsome face, and his crystalline green eyes.

But, a gift was a gift. And Alex wouldn’t have come all this way to help Walter get better, just to kill him with a package. Walter lifted it and looked it over. It was old, battered. How old was it? How long had Alex carried this thing around? Walter took it back to the couch, which had been conspicuously divested of the blankets and pillows, plumped up and moved back into its place, and sat, just looking at it. Without hesitating, Walter removed the paper, trying not to tear it, but eventually, he just tore off the paper and opened the plain cardboard box.

His eyes were deceiving him. It could not be true. He couldn’t be seeing what was in that box. It was old, damned old, so far out of usage, it couldn’t be believed. Walter pulled it from the box and turned it over and over in his hands. “Is this...”

“The very same. You deserve the peace of mind, knowing you aren’t at my mercy anymore.”

“ long has this been wrapped in that box?”

“Since the very last time I used it. When I forced you to choose William over Mulder. It saved Mulder’s life.”

"How's that again? My almost going into cardiac arrest?"

Alex closed the book and shook his head. He sat forward in the chair, looking directly into Walter's eyes. "If I had just told you to disconnect the life support to kill the growing alien entity that would eventually take over Mulder and make him a Super Soldier, would you have listened to me? Would you have believed me when I told you that his changed DNA would have ensured he would survive the extermination process? Would you have let me use the vaccine on him? I'm not asking for your absolution, or your undying gratitude. Shit, I don’t even want a thank you. But goddam it, Walter, don't think that after all this time, I'm still trying to take you out. If I really wanted you dead, it would have happened long ago. As it stands, I've been saving your life all these years. Hell, if I hadn't have socked you in the jaw, Cardinal would have garroted you in that stairwell. So...back the fuck off."

Walter listened, watched Alex's eyes, saw the truth there. In the many years of dealing with victims and perpetrators, he could pick out truth from lies, very easily. A flickered glance, a twitching cheek, hands unconsciously rubbing each other. This man was honest.

"Thank you, Alex. This is the best present I could have gotten. I have many at the condo, but this gave me back my life."

"You'll find that the software for the nanobots has been deactivated. Not before I programmed them to dissipate. Did you notice you had something that felt like a backache for a while? Lower back, but you didn't lift anything heavy?"

Walter thought back, and yes, he remembered even taking a day off and swallowing an extra Vicodin given by his doctor for his knee problem. He nodded at Alex.

"That was the carbon filtering out of your system. You'll never have to worry about them again."

"Thank you." And Alex knew Walter meant it.

"It was the least I could do for you, after all you've been put through." Both men looked at each other, long and hard. Walter looked away first, putting the PDA on the table. Alex turned towards the fire and moved to build it up. Walter stood and went to an armoire in the corner, opening the doors and pulling a TV out. Alex tilted his head and said, "Has that been there the whole time?"

Walter laughed and sat, using the remote to turn it on. "The satellite dish is on the roof. What kind of shows do you like?"

"The news. Other than that, old movies, black and white."

Walter smiled widely. "Look,'s Christmas. I want to let go of...I can't yet. There's so much, for so long. It will take me a while, but...thank you. For risking your life to save mine and Mulder's lives. You do have my gratitude. And my respect."

"It's a start."

They watched CNN in silence for a while, letting the news of the day wash over them. Alex convinced Walter to have a Christmas lunch instead of waiting until dinner. Especially since Alex wanted to roast the turkey breast that was in the fridge. He put the turkey on and he and Walter settled to watch "It’s a Wonderful Life" which they both did not want to admit they liked, only allowing that it was the only black and white movie on television.

At the point where Walter always broke down, he looked over at Alex in the chair, who was unaware that there were tears rolling down his face. Then the line, "Hee haw and Merry Christmas," came by, and tears filled Walter's eyes. He quickly removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes as if they were itchy. Replacing them, he looked over and Alex had wiped his face, but his eyes remained red and wet. Those long, sooty lashes still held a teardrop or two. A fleeting thought of licking those lashes flickered quickly in Walter's mind, but he turned away. Too much to hope for.

The turkey aroma began filling the house, the closer it was to finished. Alex put vegetables on, boiled potatoes to mash while Walter stood by and made a crisp salad. He coughed a little more, and took a little more cold medicine, but not enough to make him drowsy. It was pretty amazing he wasn't still very sick. Maybe it was just a Christmas miracle.

During the late lunch, Walter struck up a conversation about sports. Walter was a football fan, Dallas Cowboys. Alex wasn't much of a football fan, but he did love baseball, which was Walter's second love. They talked leagues, batting averages, weighed the merits of turf versus real grass and discussed the current controversies over juicing and doping.

By the end of the meal, they had shared a bottle of white wine and had started on the left over red wine Walter had started a few days ago. "There's some more in the cellar. Get another bottle. I'll clean up the kitchen."

And so the night went, two more bottles and Walter screaming his way through a football game, two teams Alex had no desire to remember the names of. By sun down, Christmas day, Alex was feeling happily buzzed, watching Walter get excited over the overtime at the end of the game. When Walter stood and tried to make his way to the bathroom, Alex stood and grabbed him to help. Alex looked up, but Walter's eyes were hidden by his glasses.


"Yeah, just gotta go..." Walter pulled away and hid behind the bathroom door to empty his bladder, but all the while, he thought about the look on Alex's face, the open lust and desire. Was Alex serious, or was it the alcohol? Should Walter even broach that subject?

When he walked back in, Alex hadn't noticed Walter return and was adjusting the erection in his tight jeans. Walter was impressed by Alex's size, wanted to open those jeans and pull that hard cock out, stroke it, taste it. When he sat back down, he felt his own erection pressing in his khaki pants, and looked down to see it, plain as day, showing off to Alex across the room.

The moments ticked by, slowly, and the tension in the room was like another person staring them down. Walter looked up at Alex, who was blatantly staring at Walter's pants. He was a brave man, Alex was. He stood and walked slowly toward Walter, stopping just a step away from the man. He slowly knelt between Walter's spread legs, both hands on Walter's thighs, sliding upward.

"Do you want me you with that?" Alex asked, looking pointedly at Walter's lap, then up into his dark eyes. The dilated pupils told Alex all he needed to know.

"One thing first," Walter said, and grabbed Alex by the biceps and pulled him up to kiss the plump glossy lips he'd been thinking about for a very long time. Alex held Walter's face as they kissed pushing aside a decade of conflict, of lies and deceit and attempts on each other's lives. Alex couldn't believe the relief he felt with Walter holding him. Walter stood, pulling Alex up with him, and said, "I think we should take this into the bedroom, Alex. You know as well as I do, we both want this."

All Alex could do was nod. Walter started towards the door, but Alex stepped back and moved towards his pack. He pulled a small bottle out, Slick-quid, a lube just for what they wanted. They moved to the bed, clothing slipping off as they went. Walter loved that Alex had little body hair, his tongue finding its way around Alex's nipples, down his chest, his belly, in his navel, nuzzling his way down Alex's body. Alex wasn't the fresh young agent he once was, but he was still sexy and delicious. It had been a long time since Walter went down on anyone, but he was willing to try. Alex, however, reached down and pulled Walter up to him.

"Kiss me again, hold me, Walter," he said, pulling the big man to his chest. Walter lay across Alex's body, nestling himself between Alex's legs.

"I want to be inside you," Walter said.

"Yes," was all Alex could manage. Walter was swift, kissing Alex breathless, stroking his cock with one hand and the other questing between his legs to find his opening, to breach Alex's body and stretch him for Walter's own width. The fleeting thought of a condom was dismissed. Alex was about to roll onto his belly, but Walter stopped him.

"No, I want to look at you. I want to see you looking at me."

"I've wanted this for so long," Alex said.

"It was about time."

Walter took Alex's mouth in a searing kiss, smeared lube on his length and settled between Alex's legs, which were drawn up along his sides. Alex was tight, as though he hadn't had any lovers in a long time. Secretly, Walter was happy about that. He didn't want to think he was just another notch in Alex's belt. He felt Alex tensing as he entered, then felt the release, Alex giving himself over to Walter and all the pleasure.

Moving inside Alex was like a religious experience, seeing God in all things, love and sex and hate and death, being with his mortal enemy, but having come to an understanding, with wine and talk. The feeling in Walter's belly tightened, starting at the base of his spine and slowly flowing upward. Alex was moaning and writhing beneath him, grabbing at his shoulders and pressing kisses to Walter's neck and throat. Words tumbled from Alex's mouth, love and need, and dream were just a few. Walter pressed his mouth to Alex's neck and sucked hard, marking the pale flesh. Alex jerked below him, hand having snaked between them to stroke himself and he came on his hand, his belly and Walter's chest.

It was all Walter needed to reach his own peak and empty himself into Alex's tight ass. They jerked together, eventually settling on Alex's chest to catch his breath. Alex's hands lazily slid over his back and chest, as if mapping the flesh to be remembered in the future. Walter needed to know.

"Tell me something, Alex."


"Is this the last time we'll do this?"

"That's up to you. You call the shots here."

"Then I guess we'll be seeing each other regularly, won't we?"

Alex smiled and laughed. "I guess so."

A few moments went by, as Walter moved to the side and pulled Alex against him. He kissed the dark, sweaty head before reaching up to tip Alex's face towards him. "Please, don't be a ghost," Walter pleaded, remembering the ugly scene in the parking garage.

"I'm the ghost of Christmas Present, if you must know," Alex said, a smile on his impish face. It amazed Walter how Alex could still look so young and beautiful.

"You're the greatest Christmas present I could ever have hoped for."


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