"Hurt me? How could you hurt me, Alex? I wasn't a virgin at this age, you know. I'd had several lovers by the time I graduated from Oxford. One was very experienced, too."
"I hate to break it to you, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I don't want to hear about your other lovers." Alex turned his back toward Mulder.
"Alex, honey, I love you! My body may be younger but it's still me inside - the one you fell in love with."
Krycek continued to pout; how was he going to adjust to this new Mulder?
"Alex, we'll work this out. I promise." Mulder started stroking up and down Krycek's back. "Do you still like the way I look?" he said quietly. "I know I look like an ugly, scrawny scarecrow again. My mom always said I was just a late bloomer; that doesn't make a boy feel any better." Mulder buried his face into Krycek's neck.
"Ugly?" Krycek turned over. "Baby, you aren't ugly - you're beautiful." He put his hand under Mulder's chin to lift up his face. He looked into those lovely hazel eyes. "It's just disconcerting, that's all. You look like an Adonis."
"Don't say that," Mulder said, blushing and averting his eyes. "I don't believe you."
"I don't know who told you that you were ugly. If this is really how you looked at 21, you must have been breaking hearts all over England."
Mulder blushed again and nuzzled his face under Krycek's chin. "I said not to say those kinds of things."
"You mean I can't tell my lover he's beautiful and everything I've ever wanted?"
"Krycek," Mulder growled as he nipped Krycek's neck, leaving a love bite.
"Ooh, baby, you know I like it when you get like that." Krycek grabbed Mulder and threw him on his back; he straddled his young lover and held his arms down. Mulder squirmed, laughing as he tried to pull his hands free. He quieted down when he saw the intense look in Krycek's eyes. Krycek released Mulder's hands and placed his own on Mulder's face, holding him steady as he leaned in to give him a passionate kiss. Mulder moved his arms around Krycek's neck to pull him close.
Private island in the Caribbean
Training Room
October 17
9:00 pmSterling Cain paced back and forth as he looked at the trembling man in front of him. The man was about 40 years old, tall and well muscled. He was tightly bound in a leather harness attached to a wooden post by a D-ring on the back of his neck brace; his arms were wrapped in leather gloves, his elbows linked to each other behind his back. He was blindfolded but not gagged; Cain could see the grimace on the man's face brought on by his pain. His ankles were attached to a spreader bar. There were clamps attached to his nipples, his scrotum, and the head of his penis. Weights dangled from the nipple and scrotum clamps. His entire body was covered in red welts from the thick leather strap Cain still had in his hand.
Cain walked up to his slave. He stood close enough to smell the fear and pain arising from the bound man. He ran his hand along the man's cheek, stopping to twist the lower lip until he wrung a cry of pain from his victim.
"You'll do, I suppose. Rogers, you can take him to the barn; I'll keep him." A smartly dressed man emerged from the shadows.
"Yes, sir."
"Meet me in my office when you're done." Cain sighed and threw the strap to the ground. He quickly left the room and started the long walk back to his house on the hill.
Cain walked slowly back to the housing compound. Lush tropical vegetation surrounded him, enveloping him in a warm humid blanket. Despite the enjoyment he had gotten out of his latest acquisition, he still felt something was missing. And that something seemed a little more unattainable every day. That was not a feeling Sterling Cain was used to, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Private island in the Caribbean
Sterling Cain's Office
October 17
10:00 pm"Rogers, I still haven't found what I'm looking for."
Rogers couldn't help but chuckle at his employer's choice of words.
"What's so funny? I'm not in a good mood."
"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just that what you said is the title of a song by a group called U2.""Great, now I'm quoting hack songwriters." Sterling Cain paced relentlessly in front of the huge windows behind his desk.
Alfred Rogers watched his employer, waiting for him to continue. He knew it was best to let Cain take his time. He had been asked once what Sterling Cain, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, was like. He'd never been able to come up with an adequate description. Physically he looked a lot like Sean Connery at his prime (and with more hair!). He was in his mid-40s and in excellent health. He worked out daily and ate only the best cuisine. He could also work out the most complicated business deals in the time it would take lesser men to pee. He had almost self-destructed once trying to coordinate his life; that had been what induced him to buy the island. The only things on the island were a private airport, the housing compound, and the game compound. The rest of the island had been restored to a paradise full of plants and animals. Any business Cain needed to conduct he would do so over his state-of-the-art communications center. If needed, face-to-face meetings could be held here on the island. It was a perfect setting to run the two halves of Cain's life with equal precision.
Alfred Rogers was what Cain euphemistically called the "gamekeeper". He was in charge of the acquisition, care, and disposal of Cain's game. When Rogers was honest with himself in those rare moments when he thought about his life, he knew that he was a slave-keeper. But calling them slaves would humanize them to Cain, and there really was no one else in this world but Cain. At least, that is how Cain felt. Rogers had never met anyone who so truly believed he was the center of the universe. He wasn't evil - he gave more to various charities than some countries spent in a whole year - but he always had things his way. Always. Rogers had never seen a time when his boss had ever been thwarted or even seriously challenged.
Rogers wasn't really pleased that Cain wanted to keep the latest game acquisition. He could tell that Cain's heart wasn't in it, and that wouldn't bode well for anybody. Maybe he could convince Cain to let him return the CEO to his corporation in New York with the usual memory adjustments. This would be a long night.
"I'm sorry Sir. I've been tired lately. Acquiring your latest possession took a lot out of me." Cain simply nodded absently at Rogers. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
"I think I've finally figured out what I want out of my next acquisition. I'm afraid, though, that it doesn't really exist."
"Well, Sir, tell me your qualifications and I and my staff can begin making inquiries."
Cain slumped down into his desk chair. He leaned back and closed his eyes, taking long pulls on the cigar.
"I have two basic kinds of game here - the young beautiful ones who can take all I dish out. The problem with them is that they're usually so stupid that I can't bear to even hear them talk. They are one-dimensional and have no experience in the world. They are also irritatingly cynical. I can't stand that."
"Yes, Sir. And the other kind?"
"The other kind of game are the older ones - late 30's, early 40's - who have the depth of experience and knowledge that leads to stimulating conversation. They've been around the block, so to speak, and have a lot more to say. However, most men at that age can't take the physical aspect of play. Like the one tonight - I barely touched him and he's already broken. No challenge to it."
"Well, Sir, if I see where you're going with this, I don't know if my staff can find a suitable candidate for you. Maybe if you could settle for something else?"
Sterling Cain opened his eyes to stare at Rogers. He slowly stood up and placed his hands on the desk. With incredible swiftness he slammed his hand onto the desk.
"SETTLE! I don't settle, Rogers! I always get what I want. Always!" Cain's face was turning red in his anger. He would not stand to be thwarted. He wanted what he wanted and that was that.
"I didn't mean settle, Sir. It's just that…"
"Rogers, I want you to start looking for exactly what I just said. I want my next acquisition to be young so he can take the hardest aspects of our play without physically breaking, but mature enough that he won't quickly break mentally. I want…"
Rogers waited breathlessly.
"I want…a challenge. You know, Rogers, I realized a long time ago that I could have anything I want, and I've lived my life that way. I've always said that every man has his price, and by God I'm rich enough to pay everybody's. However, I have to think there is someone out there who can't be bought at any price - who would rather die than give up his convictions. That's who I want."
Cain turned to stare out the window. A smile crept over his handsome face; the sight scared Rogers.
"Yes, a man who can't be bought at any price, who can take everything I throw at him and still spit in my face. A man who would rather die than call me "Master", who would rather die than willingly accept me into his body. Someone who I'll have to use my most cunning methods on to wring my name out of his mouth as he screams in agony and orgasm simultaneously. Can you find me that man, Rogers?"
"If such a man exists, Sir…"
"He does exist! I know it!" Cain turned to stare at Rogers. "I can feel it. There is such a man out there and I want him. Now."
"Yes, Sir, we'll start our inquiries." Rogers wiped his forehead. Maybe Cain has finally gone over the edge. How am I ever going to find someone like that?
"Leave me now. I wish to be alone." Cain sunk back into his chair, turning it to face the windows. The view was exquisite; the housing compound was on the top of a hill overlooking a waterfall. It spilled into the lagoon where Cain would swim and sun when he needed to get away. He closed his eyes, thinking about his fantasy piece of game - a young handsome man who he would slowly mold into a perfect companion for him. It would be long, hard work but the reward would be greater than any he had ever experienced.
"Where are you, my phantom? I eagerly await your arrival." Cain smiled, never opening his eyes.
Mulder's apartment
October 17, 1999
10:15 p.m.Mulder lay awake in bed. Krycek was asleep, lying on his back, his arm under Mulder. Mulder lay with his head on Krycek's chest, gently rubbing Krycek's belly. He felt very happy and content. He snuggled closer to Krycek, hoping his warmth would lull him to sleep.
Mulder's eyes were slowly closing when a bolt of fear slammed down his back. He sat upright in the bed, clasping the sheet to his chest. He couldn't stop his heart from racing. He reached over to shake Krycek awake.
Krycek rubbed his eyes groggily, wondering why Mulder was waking him up when it was still dark. He woke immediately seeing how frightened Mulder looked.
"What's wrong, baby? You're scaring me Fox - what's wrong?" He turned Mulder to face him. The look of terror he saw made him start to tremble himself.
"Alex, I'm scared!" Mulder put his arms around Krycek, pulling him into a death-grip.
"It's OK, Fox, I'll take care of it whatever it is. Tell me, baby."
"Alex, I think I was dreaming, but I wasn't asleep! Someone had taken me away from you. You couldn't find me! I was yelling your name but you couldn't hear! All I could see were these eyes - cold blue eyes - looking at me with such…such depravity and lust. Please just hold me!"
"Fox, it was just a dream. Nothing's going to happen, I promise. I'll take care of you. It was just a dream."
"Just a dream," Mulder replied softly. He felt safe in Alex's arms, but he couldn't get the image of those eyes out of his mind. Please, let this all be a dream!
Bound to the Fox is next!