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Heart's Desire r4-Tarlan-p3
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Back on the Spirit Plain
Alex gazed around the small oasis that he seemed to have stumbled across within the desolate wasteland of this strange place. He sank to the warm ground and found himself sheltered from the cool breeze by the tall swaying reeds of rye grass. It was peaceful here; safe. He could feel the warm sun on his face, could feel his limbs become heavy with great lassitude. He breathed in the sweet, heady scent of wildflowers and closed his eyes. By his side, he felt the large rat curl up next to him, burrowing down to take advantage of the extra warmth given out by his body, it's long whiskers tickling his naked flesh.
|| Naked? ||
He opened his eyes and looked down at himself, wondering exactly when he had shed his clothing and then he shook his head slowly. He was so tired, soul-deep tired... and this whole world was too surreal; like a dreamscape. He felt his anxiety begin to rise as he wondered if the security he felt was just as ethereal as a dream.
*Some dreams are good dreams*
Alex glanced at the rat, knowing the thoughts had come from the strange creature that lay beside him and yet he felt no surprise. Nothing surprised him anymore, not after what he had seen and felt.
"Is this a good dream?"
*For now*
A deep sigh flowed from his parted lips as Alex relaxed, his green eyes following the movement of fluffy white clouds as they drifted, lazily, overhead. He started to see images in the clouds... objects, faces, and he chewed thoughtfully on a blade of grass as those images whirled around his head. As ever, Fox Mulder came into his thoughts, and he smiled softly, in remembrance of the closeness they had found during these past few days.
*You must see him with the heart*
"Hmm?"
The rat declined to repeat his words, but Alex realised that it was unnecessary, anyway. Deep down, he understood what it had said. His old tutor, Vassily Peskow, had said something similar to him once; 'The eyes deceive, the mind deceives... you must look from the heart'. Momentarily, he wondered what had happened to the old assassin. Had he gone back into retirement? Did he even still live? Or had he become as expendable as the rest of them? He sighed again. It did not matter. The old man was a shadow from his past; and he had forced that particular shadow into the furthest, darkest corners of his mind, along with the other memories that came with that ill-fated trip to Tunguska.
"Look with the heart."
He murmured softly to himself as he tried to see beyond the delectable wrapping and into the core of the other man; Fox William Mulder - his *lover*. That word sent a tingle through his body; a warmth radiating outwards from the pit of his stomach and along his nerve endings until it reached the pleasure centre in his brain. His hand crept down to softly stroke along the length of his slowly filling shaft, enjoying the sensation of flesh firming and thickening beneath his light caress. He teased along the slit, smearing the precome over the head, easing the dragging friction around that small, extra-sensitive area that was a key to the powerful physical sensations that would sweep over his highly-tuned body. He was a sensual creature; had used his own body to give and receive pleasure with wanton delight - choosing his partners carefully so he could avoid becoming jaded like some world-weary whore. And yet, in retrospect, none of his previous partners had filled him the way Mulder did; none had taken him -body, heart and soul until Fox Mulder.
With the delicious sensations sending licks of fire from his head to his toes, Alex smiled softly to himself and centred his thoughts on Mulder, amazed when an image formed with surprising ease. To his heart, Mulder was like a big, gentle puppy with oversize paws that tripped him up. For such a complex man, the simplicity of this image was astounding... and yet, believable. Mulder was a puppy that had been kicked too many times, wearing a pleading yet world-weary expression seen in large liquid eyes. There was a wariness of the ill-used, with a contradictory desire to give all, unconditionally, in return for some semblance of love.
The thought made Alex sit up, his erection softening instantly, his movement dislodging the quiescent rat from his side. Was that how he saw him? Was that why he had failed time and time again to connect with this man - until recently? He huffed in annoyance. Surely there was more to his desire for Mulder than the need to cuddle a *pet*. He looked harder, deeper, and realised that he, himself, was so similar, needing the unconditional love that only Mulder could offer - if he was only willing to strip away the layers of defence he had built up aound himself to protect him from the pain of an unforgiving and cruel world.
Now he had seen Mulder in his true self - or at least, as he perceived him, the Russian knew he could easily hold onto that heart forever. Mulder had reached out to him, had offered everything to him, unconditionally. All he had to do was reach out a hand and it would be grasped and held.
"But this is just a dream."
*You are his heart's desire... and he is yours, if you would only trust*
"How? How do I learn to trust?"
*You must let him strip away the layers... reach the core*
"I don't understand?"
*You will*
--ooOOoo--
"Oh God!!!"
I feel the pain sear through me as I am wrenched, momentarily, back into my own body in the real world before returning to this place of dreams and nightmares. It was always this way when Osebo killed. It was if the monster temporarily lost control of his grip on my body when he fed his blood lust.
"Oh God!! Please... let her go."
This time it was a young woman that I saw momentarily. Now, I could feel her body and mind cave into Osebo's animal magnetism; too weak to fight the power of his seduction of her and yet, unlike with ealier victims, Osebo made no attempt to plunder her virgin body despite the temptation. He was feeding, pure and simple, on her terror even though lust would have added greater sweetness to the meal.
I could feel her thoughts for just a moment as they merged with my own - frightened, pleading - and I want, so much, to comfort her. She tries to cling to me; I try to hold onto her but she is slipping away. She screams out to me, begging.
*Please!!!*
"I can't help you... I'm sorry... so sorry."
I see her in front of me now. I see her terrified eyes... blue like the sky on a summer's day... but our fingers are slipping. She is slowly fading away, her spirit body becoming transparent even as she is dragged away from the small oasis. With a scream of terror, our fingers lose their grip and she is thrown into the maelstrom that surrounds this place. I fall back onto the soft grass, arm still stretched out before me, fingers empty. My horror-stricken mind reeling at the abruptness of it all.
I know *he* has killed others, I have felt their horror too - but I never saw them so clearly, never saw the abject terror in their eyes when they realised they were feeding the creature with their very souls.
My memory replays the cries of the others who have fed Osebo... our first victim, with his thick tongue filling my mouth; the second, who screamed out his ecstatic death as Osebo took his lifeforce - and his car. That one had been just outside of Atlanta; I can still remember the feel of his hardened shaft deep-throating me as he came, and died. Others were just hazy, half-remembered images, like a nightmare that fades when you awaken leaving behind only an impression of the malevolence and fear that chilled your soul.
Overhead, the sky has turned grey and menacing, the cool breeze building in strength, whipping the tall grass until it lashes against my naked flesh. I search for the great rat but he is gone from my side, driven away by the shock and terror that now permeates my former sanctuary. I glance around, wildly, seeking the refuge that has been lost, seeking the warm presence of the rat that seems to have abandoned me.
My heart freezes as I feel the build-up of more terror, slowly filling me.
|| So quick? ||
The image is fuzzy - and I pray that I will be spared the intensity of another death as Osebo reaches out to yet another victim; a victm who's terror seems all the greater, as if she had just witnessed the desecration of the girl and knew *he* would turn to her next.
Her death cry is softer, less intensive, as if she had already accepted the inevitable but I see her elderly face, all too briefly, before she is ripped away... feel her extend compassion to *me* as our spirits merge for a moment in time.
"When will it end?!!"
I cry out but the wind whips the words away from me and no answer is heard. I have seen the wraiths of Osebo's past victims and I cry out for the ones who have joined their rank since Osebo took over my body. I cry out in despair; a scream of anguish as I wonder how many others will die before I can free myself of this demon.
--ooOOoo--
The old man chants harder, his voice rising in intensity as he feels more souls join the ranks of the demon's victims on the spirit plain. Momentarily, he can hear the cry of desolation as the soul of the beautiful new host cries out in pain and anguish, and he wishes he could spare enough energy to comfort the tortured man.
Instead, he continues his chant, the words flowing along the lines of force between the two worlds, building an armoury for the coming battle.
He pauses, temporarily, and glances sideways at the young man who has stayed beside him these past few hours.
"It is time. They are close in body... closer still in spirit. You must send the fox to the other world."
--ooOOoo--
A Hotel Room
Atlanta, GeorgiaMulder rubbed his hands over tired eyes as he read through the coroner's reports on the recent mysterious deaths at the hospital. Natural causes. He sneered in amazement but knew there was nothing in the physical world that could explain away the coincidence of two women dying in the same room, almost simultaneously, from natural causes. However, his trip to the spirit plain had left him feeling acutely aware of more than the mere physical. He could sense the absence of their souls - for want of a better word.
Strangely enough, he had been asleep at the time of death stated on the report - and yet he could swear he had dreamed of them; had seen their souls being devoured... had heard his lover cry out in despair.
"Alex. Where are you?"
All Mulder knew for certain was that Alex was close; he could feel a resonance, a thrumming through his entire body; a remembrance of the feel of that precious soul lying close-held in his arms. Mulder screwed his eyes shut tight, his lips pressed together hard. He was still angry that Alex had lied to him, telling him that his body was in DC when, in fact, Osebo was here in Atlanta.
Why? Why had Alex lied, especially as he was the only person who could save him from the beast that had enslaved his soul?
|| He's protecting *you*, stupid. ||
But why?
Sighing in exasperation, Mulder reached out and closed the report; it told him nothing new, except that Osebo was feeding, becoming stronger with each soul he consumed. But what of Alex? Did his hold on his body grow weaker still as Osebo grew stronger? Was Osebo slowly digesting the very essence of the man he loved even as he sat here wondering what the hell he could do about it? His thoughts returned to those last moments on the spirit plain when he looked with his heart upon the mummified body of his sleeping lover.
*What you think you will see and what you do see are not always the same,* the fox said. *You see what he is with your heart. It is time for you to return and use this knowledge to help Alex.*
What did it all mean? Why did he see Alex like something out of a Boris Karloff movie?
*Do you see him with your heart? Do you see who he is?*
"This is ridiculous."
His voice seemed to echo around the small, impersonal room and, for the first time, he became aware that he had not switched on the TV set. He frowned, wondering why it stood dark and silent in the corner when his first instinct, no matter where he was, had always been to destroy the silence with its incessant background chatter. He stood up, intending to remedy the situation, but found his legs unwilling to move him across the room to where it stood. A strange sensation tightened in his chest as he realised that, for once, he found peace and security in the silence surrounding him. Mulder allowed his legs to fold up beneath him once more but made no attempt to pick up any of the reports scattered across the bed. Instead, he let his thoughts return to Alex, and the strange image he had of his lover wrapped in layer upon layer of tight bindings.
|| Unwrap him. ||
"Yeah, sure."
His sarcasm seemed to bounce off the very walls of the room to hit him, squarely, in the heart itself but he closed his eyes and tried to recapture the vision of Alex that his heart had revealed to him. Mulder frowned as the image that crept into his head; a hand reaching out to grasp the exposed end of the binding, slowly unwinding the white linen from around the long, shapeless object that he, instinctively, knew was Alexei Krycek. Time seemed to flow backwards as the cloth was slowly peeled away and then, instead of seeing white linen, he saw emotions, but not just anyone's emotions; *his* emotions. Mulder recognised his own fear of losing Alex, wanting to protect that vulnerable man from the dangers he faced in both the real and the spirit world; he saw love fade back into desire, watched as time receded to show him the birth of desire, wrapped in confusion and anger as his cheek was seared by a single kiss.
Visions came to him, sometimes so fast that his head was spinning, sometimes with a agonising slowness as he fought to decipher the hidden meaning behind each body blow he had dealt to that beautiful frame.
Gradually, his mind travelled back through the long years, stripping away the emotions that he had wrapped around his mental image of Alex. The linen turned grey and dirty, and Mulder saw a blackness within his own soul as he lay the blame for everything terrible that had ever happened in his life at Krycek's feet. He blamed him for his father's death, blamed him for Scully's abduction, even blamed him for Samantha's disappearance.
|| Why? ||
The answer came as the last piece of the binding dropped from the now, fully exposed body. He had come full circle, his eyes widening in full realisation of why he had felt so many powerful yet dark emotions whenever he so much as thought of the handsome ex-FBI agent.
From the moment he had first laid eyes on the brash young man in a cheap suit, he had refused to acknowledge the power of the emotion he felt; not even attempting to understand why the subsequent betrayal had cut him so deeply.
With the lifting of the blackness of his darker emotions he saw Alex Krycek in a new light; saw a vulnerable young man being manipulated by others, saw an older, wiser Alex being betrayed, imprisoned, mutilated. Without the darkness to dim his memory of past encounters, he found a man forced to flee, forced to fight to survive; a man who had reaffirmed Mulder's belief when it was at an all time low; a man who had kissed his cheek and called him 'my friend' when he was feeling at the lowest ebb of his life -so lost and alone.
*Do you see him with your heart? Do you see who he is?*
Yes... he could see now. Alex was, and had *always* been, his heart's desire. The physical attraction had fueled the burning lust; the intelligence, the quicksilver mind had fanned the flames of desire... the passing years; that searing kiss with its silent promise that he was not alone - never alone - had burned its way into his heart, setting his soul on fire.
Mulder gave a strangled cry as he realised how long he had been in denial; realised how many wasted years lay behind them. He should have fought for Alex, turned him away from the darkness of the Consortium but, instead, he had walled up his love behind the anger of that bitter betrayal; had pummelled that beautiful face when he shoud have been kissing him; had betrayed Alex in equal measure.
Another realisation swept across him. If his love for Alex had been fragile, like delicate crystal, then it would have shattered under the pressure of the past years. Instead, they had found each other, their love as durable as the hardest, purest diamond just waiting to be polished and held up to the light.
A knock on the door brought Mulder's head snapping around, throwing him from the deep, revealing thoughts. He swallowed hard, trying to regain a semblance of control as he moved to the door and checked through the spyhole.
--ooOOoo--
Deputy Sheriff Adam Longfort narrowed his eyes as he waited for Fox Mulder to open the door. He could feel those mesmerising hazel eyes staring at him through the one-way spyhole; could sense the lanky but well-toned frame standing barely a foot from his own, separated only by the thickness of the hotel door. If he listened hard, he was certain he would hear the soft breaths exhaled from between those luscious lips.
|| Why not me? ||
Longfort knew Mulder would never return the deep feelings he felt for the FBI agent; knew that Mulder's love had already been claimed by the beautiful dark-haired man - and he knew that love was reciprocated. He had seen it blazing in those green eyes, watched them soften whenever the man gazed upon Fox Mulder; watched them flare in barely restrained jealousy and anger whenever they fell upon *him*.
He wished he had been given the opportunity to lay Krycek's fears to rest; to persuade him that, no matter how he felt about Mulder, the agent already belonged to Krycek; body, heart and soul.
The door opened and longfort steeled his expression to hide the love and desire he felt for this man.
"My grandfather says it is time."
--ooOOoo--
Back On The Spirit Plain
Mulder gazed around at the desolation. For as far as the eye could see, in all directions, there was only wasteland; a desert comprised of the detritus of human waste. He could see the burnt out shell of a car sitting upon the shifting sand like the bleached bones of a whale on a beach. Mulder approached the car but took a step backward in shock when he realised it was not empty. Inside, sat a man. The man turned lecherous eyes towards him before gesturing down to the engorged flesh that he was slowly pumping. An image of a familiar dark haired head appeared and pressed down into the man's lap, and Mulder wondered, in horror, if he was being forced to witness the man's final moments before being devoured by Osebo in Krycek's body.
Mulder raised to hand to his own mouth as the dark head pulled up, semen dribbling from the corners of the arrogantly-turned-up mouth with its beautiful cupid's bow. The green eyes held his but Mulder could see no sign of the man he loved in those lust-darkened depths.
He stumbled away only to confront yet another image, this time of a man groping Alex, his thick, pink tongue plunging into the welcoming mouth as one hand rubbed the bulge in his lover's crotch. Worse was the sight of Alex's hand pumping the thick organ in time to the thrusts of that grotesque tongue. Mulder felt rooted to the spot as he watched the fountain of come erupt to cover Alex's hand and clothing. Their mouths parted and they turned, as one, to face Mulder; confusion and despair on the victim's face as he felt more than his physical lifeforce torn from his body, triumph and sadistic pleasure adding a demonic edge to the angelic features of his killer.
*Osebo is trying to drive a wedge between you... to make you look upon your heart's desire in disgust.*
Mulder swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the fox at his side but, instead of trying to banish those horrific images, he embraced them, let the knowledge of what this creature was forcing his lover to endure fuel his contempt for Osebo - and strengthen his love for Alex in return.
The pleasure-filled face contorted in impotent rage, teeth gnashing at the perfect lips until they were bloodied; fingers turning to claws that slashed at its own ivory flesh until it hung in tattered, gory strips. Mulder laughed as he watched Osebo seemingly destroy himself.
"You're gonna have to do better than that, Osebo."
The scene of desolation began to fade and in the distance, Mulder became aware of a strip of green, like an oasis in a desert. He focussed on this place and walked onward, a warmth swelling up within telling him that he may find his Alex in that place.
*Be careful... see with the heart.*
Although the oasis had appeared to be many miles away, Mulder found his strides covered far more ground in this strange land. He paused at the edge of the green field, his heart skipping a beat as he beheld the most wonderous sight; his Alex, naked, curled up in slumber, the sleep-softened face more beautiful than he could remember, seemingly at peace. Moving closer, Mulder tried to keep his steps light, not wanting to awaken the sleeper. He dropped slowly to the ground beside his lover and reached out to push a lock of sable hair from the tall forehead. Dark lashes flickered, beating against the high cheeks then slowly opened. A beautific smile cast all the shadows aside, lighting up the face until even the eyes glowed like the purest emeralds. A husky voice purred, a single word falling from luscious lips.
"Mulder."
"Alex."
Mulder lowered his own lips to bestow a soft kiss. He sighed as hands came up to card through his hair, drawing him deeper into the kiss. His lips parted as they were lightly licked, permission requested and given as he felt his lover's tongue dip into him, caressing the silken interior, playfully tasting and teasing.
"Alex."
Mulder murmured his lover's name against the softly yielding mouth, sighing his own pleasure and relief on finding Alex seemingly safe within this strange world outside of the real one. He smiled as eager hands helped him to remove his restrictive clothing; luxuriated in the feel of skin against skin as he covered the younger man's body with his own.
The rhythm of their lovemaking was slow and easy; a reaffirmation of togetherness rather than the rutting of the deprived. Not that he didn't want to take Alex, hard and fast, to mark him with bites and scratches... but there had been too much violence between them and, no matter how benign the intention, Mulder wanted Alex to know he saw more to this man than the slaking of carnal desire. He wanted love, and not just sex.
The physical manifestations of their desire were hot and hard between their close-pressed bodies, friction reduced to a level of perfection by the light sheen of sweat and the natural lubrication of precome that eased the slide of their flesh. They rolled onto their side, hands dragging hips even closer with suddenly bruising strength, mouths devouring each other as nerve endings overloaded on the sweet sensation radiating outwards.
Mulder clung to his lover like a drowning man as the wave crashed over him, dragging him under and sending him tumbling within the churning undercurrents. He felt as if he were dying, felt his spirit floating away in pure ecstasy... as if his very soul was being consumed by the angel held in his arms.
"NO!!!"
The warm, perfect body was ripped from his arms but the cry was not his own. He opened heavy eyes, panicked by the scream of pain and horror emanating from his Alex, wildly seeking out the lost man - and gave a cry of his own.
Two familiar, identical bodies were scuffling... rolling over upon the grass, the blades ripping into the flesh of the weaker before he was tossed aside like a ragdoll.
*See with the heart.*
A moan of denial turned to pure rage as Mulder looked upon the snarling, naked Krycek, his eyes seeing beyond the beautiful shell to the malevolent creature lying within. Green eyes flared in triumph at the ease of deceit and then in fury that this easy victory had been snatched away at the last second by the weak, pathetic spirit of the host.
With a stream of vile abuse falling from kiss-swollen lips, Osebo held up his arms and called upon all his dark power.
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And so, onto Megaera...