Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando judex est venturus
Cunctua stricte diccussurus
I lay in a drunken stupor. It was one of my major faults, if you didn't include lying, cheating, stealing, murdering, extortion, blackmail-- well, you get the point, right?
My inebriated state was due to the fact that the lynchpin of the whole fucking mess had gone and got himself *abducted*. I'd heard Scully was pregnant and I'd made Spender Senior a dead heap at the end of a flight of stairs.
I don't know what possessed me to use a risky method like a bad fall; it would have been so wonderful to wrap my hands around that scrawny neck. Oh yeah, I guess I see your point.
Anyway I was in Marita's NY digs, lying on her couch, drinking her tequila, bewailing and bemoaning the state of affairs, when I became aware that someone was slowly coming into the room next to me.
That wasn't as drunk as it sounded. I blearily watched this person materialize out of thin air, like on Star Trek. I knew he wasn't an alien, because their mode of transportation was like a vacuum cleaner with sparklers going off around you. You know what the really funny thing is? It was *me*.
Me, with both arms and a much larger clothing budget. The clothing alone was a clue he wasn't a clone (Spender never let them have jack shit), but I'd have to say his method of entry was the deciding factor against him being a clone.
Being drunk as a skunk, I decided to forgo the Glock. I sure as hell couldn't aim it, and hey-I needed the laugh, and why would I shoot myself anyway? Shooting that one wouldn't put me out of my misery.
"Hi, Alex." He smiled, it would have been a disarming grin, but I hadn't picked up the gun. It was a pretty smile, a thousand-watt smile.
I lay there and looked, really looked. It was a living reflection, unruly in that it moved independently from me. "Hi yourself. Should I call you Alex too?"
My fractious image laughed at me, a throaty chuckle rough from too much booze, too many cigarettes, or too much screaming. Like mine. "Don't jump to any conclusions." He stepped closer to me, and stretched forth his hand in an age-old gesture. "Maximillian."
I took his hand to shake it, and he clasped his hand around mine, holding onto it for a long moment as he appraised me openly, without criticism.
"Pardon me, Maximillian, but can I ask what the hell is going on here?"
There was that raw, snagged-silk laugh. "You are too rich, my boy, too rich."
Now that annoyed me. Spender had insisted on calling me his boy, and I was nearly forty, for christ sake. I told my visitor just that.
"Compared to me, almost everyone is a child." He looked pointedly at the chair next to my feet. "Do you mind if I sit down?"
"Not at all--do you want a drink? I could even get you a glass if you wanted one." I handed him the more than half-empty bottle of Tequila, the sodden worm at the bottom grotesquely rolling from side to side.
Maximillian took the bottle from my hand and drank down a long slug. "Not bad."
"Gets better as you get closer to the bottom. Should be fucking great by now."
He laughed at the old joke, and took another drink. "I see your point."
"Speaking of points, do you have one, or is this just another run-of-the-mill alcoholic hallucination?"
"You know when you get discouraged, or lose the way from the path you've chosen to travel; how nice it is to have your objective solidified, and remind yourself just what the goal is? To remember what is the point of struggling?"
It wasn't a point that I would've made at that particular moment, so in a way Maximillian could've just proved he wasn't a phantasm, but like he said, I didn't want to make any snap judgments here. "Okay, I'll bite. Yeah?"
I stared at him blankly. I'd really had too much to drink. My visions didn't even make any sense. I took the bottle from him, closed my eyes and took a very healthy (unhealthy?) swig. Keeping them squeezed shut to a count of ten, I peeked through my lashes and damn if he wasn't still there, cool as a cucumber. "What did you mean by that?"
"I just came by to visit and see how you were, Alex. That's all. It seemed what I needed at the moment." He wasn't smiling exactly. I suddenly realized just why Mulder was constantly taking swipes at me-- that smirk was infuriating.
I honestly didnt see him move, but there he was kneeling in front of me looking earnest and sincere. His face was close enough to me that we were sharing the same breath for an instant, and the heat and intimacy of it shocked me a little. Like we were lovers.
"My sweet Alex-I can always count on you, and it's been far too long since I've had the pleasure of your company."
The delusion still wasn't making any sense. "Can I interject something here? When have I seen you before? I mean, besides shaving me in the mirror."
Those lips, spread apart slightly and his tongue slipped out slightly to moisten them--slick rose dark soft-- pressed against my mouth, and a shocking vision blazed through my being, the real vision this time. The suppressed memory of the whole sordid affair filled my mind pushing out all thoughts of anything but Him.
I jerked back from his kiss as I bolted up off of the couch, suddenly terrified beyond what my imagination could do to fill in those eon-sized blanks. I had no where to go but I had to put some space between us.
"Alex! You *do* remember! And here I was bereft thinking you had actually forgotten me." He chuckled as he stalked me with jaguar paces, closing the infinitesimally small distance between us.
There truly was nowhere to go, for any escape I may have made from him was decades past, so I stood my ground and waited.
Waited for that touch, the one that seared me through to the core, the prelude to a whole symphony of pain. It was always and never the same.
"Tomorrow, Alex. Come tomorrow, do you remember the address?"
I nodded slightly; the touch hadn't yet fallen on me.
"Good, that's so good to hear. Oh, and Alex? Don't keep me waiting. I really hate being kept waiting." Maximillian smiled again, and it was the pretty smile again, the one that made him look like a movie star.
I shivered uncontrollably, the anticipation causing a frisson to dance a salsa on my skin. "No, I won't keep you waiting."
"You really are a lovely creature." He leaned in towards me, hereitcomesohmygod. His fingertips slid down from my neck towards my sternum where the shirt gaped open, tracing trails of fire in their path: magnesium burning down to burrow into my soul. Maximillian turned away from me and disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived.
I sure as hell wouldn't be late, his mark was on me, and I would feel it incandescent on my heart until he purged it, cleansed it away.
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus
Cum vix justus sit securus?
Qui Mariam absolvisti,
Et latronem exaudista,
Mihi quoque spem dedisti.
Sleep was out of the question and the time and effort I had put into getting good and drunk was completely wasted. There was no escape from the fate that lay in store for me tomorrow. I was wearing a path in Marita's hand loomed Persian rug when she returned from whatever emergency meeting it was that she had to attend.
"You don't look very drunk. I expected to find you worshiping at the porcelain altar by now."
"I did too, I guess those are the breaks." I followed her to her bedroom, where she was unwrapping herself, coat, jacket, shoes. She was about to remove the jewelry when I stepped behind her, and took over the task. I could never put it on for her, but I could easily undo the delicate clasp with one hand, and pull the skin warmed strand of pearls from her neck where I nibbled her. The fine platinum hair had been swept up, and peering over her shoulder, I let the pearls slide down into her cleavage, pooling there in between those perfect, lovely breasts.
Marita laughed. "Are you going to leave those there?" She leaned against me, her ass rubbing against my burgeoning erection. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her tighter as I continued nibbling my way up her neck.
"No, I think I'll go diving for them." I tugged gently on her earring, then moved on to her cheek. Marita favored a heavy, exotic perfume, as mysterious as she was. I adored it on her. I began to unbutton the tiny buttons on the blouse, exposing the milky expanse of her chest, rising with a concave slope. I pulled the blouse off of her shoulders and laid it across the foot of her bed. Turning around she wrapped me in a hug, her arms grasping me firmly around the waist to pull me firmly into to her. The strand of pearls was cupped between her breasts, all of it spilling over. I took the pearls gently in my teeth and pulled them from their nest, then tossed them on the bed with the blouse.
The smell and warmth of her reminded me of all that was human. This is what I was fighting for, so that lovers, husbands and wives could go home get drunk and make love without worrying if there was a Oilien floating around inside their partner; without concern of subjugation or elimination. Humanity.
Marita took control and quickly and efficiently stripped us both of our clothing then rode me astride. Her hot wet clasping cunt was enough to distract me from the coming travails with Maximillian for a while and we came, one after the other. I wiped the faint sheen of perspiration from her face as she settled down next to me and fell asleep with a sated, smug look on her face.
I extracted myself from her grasp, and pulling my slacks on, I hung up her suit and blouse- her dry cleaner would thank me- and made sure the pearls were safe on the dresser. Nothing like using a $75,000 necklace to jump-start the foreplay. In the living room, I sought out the remainder of the tequila, finishing it to the bottom of the bottle. The hell of it was I wasnt anywhere near drunk enough to eat that damn worm.
Inter oves locum praesta,
Et ab hoedis me sequestra
Statuens in parte dextra.
January in New York City--some part of me had hoped that I would never again have to deal with the miserable place as snow and slush infuriated citizens and visitors alike, but I wasn't that lucky. The day was cold, not just chilly but down right frigid. The good news is there wasn't any more snow in the forecast today, but the bad news is there are piles of the filthy stuff piled in long furrows where the snowplows had dredged it off the street. The slight warming trend yesterday had left big wet sploshy footprints in the slush, and they had refrozen into difficult to navigate potholes of slippery ice.
If I could avoid going out, I would've, but the calling card he left last night was still a caustic stripe on my chest, giving me no other choice. The mirror had revealed nothing but I could feel it, a finger-width Vee painted with invisible acid ink.
Marita had been mildly curious when I told her I had to go out, and that I didn't know how long I was going to be gone, but our relationship wasn't about knowing where the other was going or when they were coming back. She accepted a general 'maybe a couple of days, maybe longer' without me having to elaborate that I was about to go have a devil of a good time.
Maximillian could make it seem like time was manipulated while he had you in his clutches, but some of the laws of physics applied to him, same as the rest of humanity. Time, gravity. He just made it look good, or work in his favor. One of the afflictions he had to deal with as his masters' Lieutenant.
A very powerful Lieutenant-do not let me ever lead you to believe that Maximillian wasn't the single most dangerous entity on the planet-but he had rules, and his agenda was more focused on his long term goals rather than creating pure havoc simultaneously on every continent. Therefore, it was possible to interact with him on certain levels; similar to the way it was possible to deal with Mulder on a certain level, though Maximillian did have a wider control over the rest of physical nature that Mulder didn't. I had to laugh at that one
I had let my concentration waver and I nearly slipped on a particularly slick patch of ice, but a firm hand on my elbow kept me from falling on my ass. I looked up to thank my savior, and it was Maximillian. Of course, who else would it have been?
"I couldn't let you break that beautiful ass, now could I?"
"Good morning Maximillian, I was on my way to see you." The tone of respect in my voice was automatic; even I know when to apply the proper obeisance.
He looked better than he did last night. The dark olive cashmere coat nearly swept the tops of his perfectly polished shoes, the bright red scarf round his neck and tucked into the lapels of the coat added a dash of color to his ensemble. Personally I stuck to black--black shirt, black pants, black coat, black gloves, black hat. If you're going to make a statement with your sartorial splendor, then be consistent. I even had on black socks.
"Then I'm glad I was on my way home. I was just taking a constitutional to see the goings on in the city." He leaned over to me and whispered conspiratorially, "Never rely too heavily on your sources, and check up on them sometimes."
His hot breath on my face in the cold air sent armies of shivers marching up and down my back. I agreed with him. "It's good to get out in the trenches and see for yourself."
"Exactly! Just so, I think we have other business to attend to now, don't we?" He slipped his arm through my prosthetic and linked together thus we started to walk towards his apartment.
Rex tremendae majestatus
Qui salvandos salvas gratis
Salva me, fons pietatis
Maximillian's stylish digs were spacious, and uncluttered. The furniture was elegant and modern; the few obscure pieces of art scattered around the room were ambiguous in nature. He was ever the gracious host, taking my coat he asked "Would you like a cup of coffee? Did you eat breakfast?" I shook my head no, and he frowned at that. "You have to have something to eat, Alexei, you know you shouldn't do this on an empty stomach."
"I would rather not vomit it all back up in a few hours, thanks. I'll have a cup of coffee." As you may have expected, Maximillian was a coffee snob. It was always unusual and prepared perfectly.
"Then by all means let's have a cup of coffee together. Are you sure I can't tempt you with some thing else?" He started towards the kitchen, I followed.
Maximillian made the coffee and set out a plate of fresh krullers, the ones he knew I could never resist. Mimicking his tone of voice from the night before, I remarked, "Maximillian I'm touched, you remembered." I grinned at him as I took one of the doughnuts and ate it while he busied himself with cups and cream.
He laughed at my little joke. He could afford the expense, after all. "How could I forget the only thing I ever get you to eat for breakfast? I have to keep you happy, otherwise you'll stop coming back."
I unconsciously touched my throat where his hand had touched me mere hours ago. "What about this compulsion?"
"Alex, things are never exactly what they appear to be." He handed me a large cup of coffee. "But seeing that I never really give you a chance to think about our relationship too much, I'll let you off the hook." He reached over to outline the invisible mark with his hand, and the fiery itch disappeared immediately.
Rubbing my hand over the spot, I considered his comment about things were never what they appeared to be. Our eyes met, and held. "Why do you make me forget?"
"Because, Alexei, my best darling. There are some things that man wasn't meant to know; and it would be unfair for you to carry that burden every day of your life. Better to lock it away and keep it safe when you don't need it."
This time I was the one that leaned toward him and kissed him, the chaste touch a companion of the one that he had awakened me with. It was electric, no comfort here, only the promise of torment and suffering to come-and I wanted more. I dipped in to deepen the caress, our tongues slid across each other, and the taste and smell of him so sweet that I nearly burst into tears from the wanting.
"Come on, let's get this show on the road." I took his hand and he quickly rose from his chair, shoving it backward. I led him through the apartment that I knew as well as any place I had ever been. I guess the minions had cleared out for the duration; this was between him and me.
Ingemisco tanquam reus
Culpa rubet vultus meus
Suplicanti parce, Deus.
The bedroom was large, airy and warm, with skylights in the ceiling and the huge windows let in all the light they could of the cold winter sun. The four poster bed was huge, and was covered with an old-fashioned white chenille bedspread that contrasted starkly with the smooth rosewood headboard.
We stood in the room, just an arms length from the other, pausing a moment before peaceful room was shattered with screams and blood.
"Don't make me wait any longer."
I nodded; the weight of the exercise was already hanging over me. I knew what to do. I undressed him slowly; every undone button or removed garment was punctuated with a kiss, or favored with a touch. It was sick the way that I worshipped his body, but I needed it desperately, and it was thrilling to know that he needed me. I never asked if I was the only one, that would be stupid, but I have a feeling that he had chosen me alone for this exigency.
Maximillian was naked, gloriously naked and I undressed under his watchful eye. He wore a smooth mask, neither desire, fear nor urgency creasing it. I was finally as nude as he was, but I still wore my prosthesis. I would need it for the coming travails.
"Do it now."
Quarens me, sedisti, lassus
Redemisti crucem passus
Tantus labor non sit cassus
The dresser held the things we would need, leather cuffs, appliances, pliers, irons and the cat-o-nine that Maximillian laughingly referred to as his Divine Scourge. The cruel clamps and screws were set out on the table, and still Maximillian watched, face impassive. I would see that change, contorted with need and passion-sweating with the pain I was about to inflict on him.
I took each wrist, and buckled it into a leather cuff. With no lining to ease the strain, they would chafe and cut into his skin, maybe even bleed. That was to be expected. Once the cuffs were on I led him to the rack on the side of the room. It was really such an anachronism here in this clean, modern room; but they didn't make these things like they used to, it was a joy to work with. I chained Maximillian by his wrists and slowly cranked him high, until he was barely resting on the floor. I knelt at his feet, pulling each to the side until he was spread eagle, fastened at his ankles with more chains.
He had already begun to sweat a lustrous sheen. I dragged the tip of my tongue over the damp on his pale skin, the fresh perspiration still clean and sweet. It would be rank later, so I took my fill now and bathed him cat fashion. The moist nether fur had a sharp fragrance, and inhaling deeply I licked the smooth hairless skin over the jut of his pelvis. Rising to continue my lingual ablutions, tasting the flat plane of his chest, and laving the nipples that were the same dark, rose petal color of his lips, until they stood proud.
Maximillian was shivering under my attentions, whispering in the unknown language that struck a familiar chord in me--whether it was a prayer, a psalm for redemption or release, I dont know. His voice rose and fell in time to some internal sound track, soft and breathy, catching here and there as I continued to graze and stroke his alabaster form.
"Please, Alex--go on, do it. I need…" He implored me to stop teasing him. The muted green eyes had darkened, the delicious lips parted slightly to allow little pants of breath to pass. When Maximillian was reduced to begging in English I knew it was time to relent. We had no need of safe words as he could free himself at any time; I only had his desire with which to keep him in check. I could do this to him because of this, and knowing that there could never be any real permanent damage.
The nipple clamps were first, the rough jagged edges of the alligator clips elicited a rough gasp, and I could feel his ripples of pain as if they were my own. Tugging at them to make sure they were well seated and wouldnt slip loose, I added a pair of weights to bring up the level, like the volume on a radio, louder in their throbbing insistence. The first blood of the tryst appeared-- a tiny upwelling from an abused aureole. I lapped it with my tongue, and the exquisite feel of turgid, bloodied flesh nipped between tangy metal was delicious. It just made him want more, and he writhed under my ministrations as I clipped another pair of clips to the skin of his scrotum. The slack flesh crawled up from the sensation, but the fishing weights pulled against the motion.
I touched my lips to his, the metallic taste between us and he kissed me as roughly as he could, being restrained. Slick tongues thrust against the other, each plumbing the depths of the other. Maximillians eyes were wide, the need in them burning, and he started a low throaty keen that arrowed down to my cock through my heart.
I turned away, it was dangerous to get lost in this one's eyes, or you would never find your way out again. I looked over the accoutrements on the table behind him, and decided on the birch. Each thin branch was stripped of bark, and I could smell the pickling brine still on them. I shook my head at the violet ribbon that tied them together in a bundle. "It's all in the details, isn't it?"
The first blow caused him to jump, and cry out. "Oh! Yesss.." He hissed between his teeth as I landed a few strokes in an odd pattern, to keep him guessing as to where the next blow would fall. My victim didn't make any appeals for mercy, no-- the cries he made were calculated to spur me onto greater efforts. I was sweating from the exertion, and his back had a lovely pattern criss-crossed in raised welting, but none were bleeding. A good birching is such an art form, and I knew the burn on his back, buttocks and thighs intimately, I had suffered through every slash.
I went to the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator. I found the champagne chilling and I picked up a bowl and tossed a few ice cubes in it, grabbed a bottle of Evian and a straw for later, when he couldn't drink from the bottle. I managed to carry it all back to the bedroom in one trip, and not drop anything. "Maximillian, here. You need some water, drink this."
"Thank you." He sipped at the water bottle I held to his lips, and he took several deep draughts. I knew instinctively that while the water was appreciated, it was not what I was being thanked for.
"What next, Alexei-what are you going to do next?" I looked at him, and knew he would bolster my lagging taste for the work. In theory it sounds great, but I really couldn't go to the cruel depths of torture that I had been subjected to. Maybe that was why I was chosen for this labor of love. "The knife…."
Maybe I would wield the knife and do as he asked. I took a deep breath, and sat down cross-legged to work on opening the bottle of champagne, I was going to need liquid courage for this. The cork popped out with a suspicious ease, and I poured a glass. It was good, fucking good, like a shimmer of bubbles on a draft of quicksilver. This would be perfect with caviar.
Maximillian laughed. "Yes, it is, and if you're good, we'll have some later."
I growled at him. "I'm always good." I stood up, and brought the champagne to him, giving him the chance to taste the bubbly.
"Yes, you are my darling, and I adore you for it. Worth every bottle of Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises I can lay my hands on." He tasted it and then begged a kiss. "Kiss me again Alex, let me taste the champagne."
I took a sip of champagne and kissed him, letting the wine drip into his mouth slowly. When it was gone, I took another drink and repeated the gesture. "You taste incredible with the champagne, Maximillian. I could kiss you forever." I straightened up and inspected the form hanging before me. "But if you can have a conversation, then you must need more weights." I clipped them on above and below, and resettled the nipple clamps in a new position, bringing a fresh font of sanguine fluid from the taut flesh, eliciting a squeak from Maximillian. "Mmm better."
Preces meae non sunt dignae,
Sed tu, bonus, fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.
The knife on the table was sharp and well balanced, and had a wicked point. I picked it up and tossed it in the air a few times, but I decided against the blade; he was expecting it, and my job was to keep him guessing. The soldering iron looked good. It was a low voltage model used for electronics, but hot enough for the need at hand. I plugged the iron into the socket and had another glass of champagne while it heated. Maximillian was shifting restlessly, chains clinking gently. I smoothed my hand down his welted back, hot under my hand.
I used the brand, made long ugly stripes of burnt flesh that bubbled and wept. The smell of burnt flesh and hair permeated the room with a rank miasma, and this is what gets me every time-no blood, bruising, battering or whipping affects me like the smell of roasting human flesh. My insides finally roil and revolt, and I make it to the bathroom to heave my guts out into the toilet. I wash my face and rinse out the remaining bile before returning to Maximillian, hanging whipped and burnt. I stood in front of him, until he opened his eyes to mine. "I'm sorry, I was weak."
His face was a grimace tightened by the pain. "Alexei, you always do that, you're human, you can't expect to be other than that." Maximillian shifted, made a motion like he wanted to stretch and I released the tension some, enough for him to bestow on me the blessing of an embrace. "I need more, you have to go on." There was no question here, I had no choice but to be the tool he required. Tightening his bonds, I continued my task. The hard rubber truncheon applied just so, wouldn't necessarily break any bones, but wasn't what he wanted. The bruising wouldn't show up for a while, but the sharp crack heralded the first of several broken bones. His right elbow canted at a bizarre angle now, and he cried small whimpers as a steady rain of blows fell in a methodical pattern.
I had missed not an inch of his broken body when I was done. Maximillians face was reddened and puffy, the lilac smudges were already deepening to dark wales. His eyes were completely swollen closed, and the broken tissue around his mouth was bleeding, where his broken teeth had cut through his lips in jagged tears. There were more than a few broken ribs, and there would be serious internal injuries in the soft tissues, perhaps even complete failure of the kidneys and liver. I lifted his head, and he moaned as I fished out the pieces of his teeth that had flown back into his mouth with the force of the baton. He drank convulsively as I poured some water into his mouth. I took a drink myself, and then gave him another. Maximillian was completely limp at this point, but I was not done, the sign hadnt appeared. I laid on the bed and rested for a few minutes as I contemplated the pendent broken man. He had started talking to himself, in that haunting unfamiliar language that raised my hackles. I had to get this over with.
Flammis acribus addictis,
Voca me cum benedictus
I picked up what I hoped was the last of my weapons, the lash that had sharp metal tips embedded in the ends. The long strokes fell, the flesh welted from the birch opened up, and began to bleed. The words that Maximillian was speaking became a Latin prayer. The wounds gave purchase to the metal nips, and the points began to flay the flesh and skin off of him in bloody scraps. The tender flesh between his thighs was particularly susceptible, and I could see the blood, heavy, red, thick running down his back, into the crack of his ass, and down his legs. I continued to strike at him, and his blood flew and spattered me with every blow. His singsong prayers became a hoarse guttural cry, until finally his filthy bloody body began to transform. He seemed to grow larger, but I didnt let it distract me-I had made that mistake once before. Maximillian was shrieking now, the pain he was experiencing informing his supplication. The human I had chained to the rack was gone, and the dark ethereal angel took his place, the huge wings quivering with the force of the whipping. He was nearly translucent, tears running from his blackened eyes, and I could not go on. I went to face him, his smashed face and body a faade superimposed on his true form.
The archangel was there only a moment, and then the chimera faded and left the shattered man hanging on the chains, completely unconscious.
Libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum
De poenis inferni et de profundo lacu,
Libera eas de ore leonis
Ne absorbeat eas tartarus
Ne cadant in obscurum
That Maximillian should trust me to see him this way and to care for him while he was insentient made me weak. I could barely lift his inert body, the blood made my hand slippery, but I managed to get him into the shower. Damn the prosthesis. I left Maximillian slumped in a heap as I stripped it off and tossed it onto the bathroom floor. I turned the tepid water on low, and the water turned scarlet before swirling down the drain. I took off the clamps and laid them aside. The water eventually stopped running red and I gingerly ran a cloth over the least damaged parts to remove the clotted blood that had dried there.
The shower revived my victim. He smiled, and I had to look away from the gaping holes where broken teeth were missing. He stood shakily, and wrapped his arms around me, a dark sweet envelope. We dried each other, mainly so I could gently dab the water from his back to keep the wounds from bleeding afresh.
"Come, my darling-- let's lay down a while, and I'll be back to my old self in no time. Then we'll see to your reward for a job well done."
I was exhausted. I'd had little or no sleep last night and the strain of only having one arm with which to inflict his punishment had taken everything I had in me. The soft warm sheets beckoned, and Maximillian lay behind me on his left side to avoid the broken elbow.
Fac eas, Domni, de morte
Transire ad vitam
The room was dark when I woke up. The skylights had a light layer of snow on them, and despite the curtains being pulled to, I could tell it was night. I was alone on the still pristine sheets, and the white carpet and bedspread provided an ambient reflection of the dim light. I took a shower in the darkened bathroom, this time the water was hot and there was lots of lather. I found my clothes in the dark, and dressed in only my jeans and tee shirt went looking for Maximillian.
The rest of the apartment was dark as well, and I found him sipping champagne in front of his window, the lights of the city twinkling in the light snow that was falling. He was whole and unwounded with no trace of the games left on him. I came up behind him, and rested my hand on his hip.
"Did you sleep well?" He handed me the glass of champagne in his hand.
Taking the glass, I cleared my throat. "Uhm, yes, I did. You're looking better." It was that same champagne, rich and lush and very complex.
"Thank you, I feel like a new man." He clasped my head in his hand and kissed me deeply, full of dark promise that sent fireworks exploding in my mind. "Your caviar is here." He whispered, the fresh dewed lips seductively moving against my ear.
I chuckled at that. 'You remembered, how sweet of you."
He wound his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, his hand till on my shoulder. "I always remember, my darling pet. Shall we go have some?"
The table was set with crystal dishes and heavy silver flatware. Three or four caviars and all the proper garnishes were arranged in between the intimate setting for two. The tall tapers cast a flickering glow in a pool that enhanced the scene. Maximillian had tried to impress me with bounty and largesse in the past before he had learned that sparse luxury impressed me more. We drank the entire bottle of that rare wine of mythic proportions, as we ate the caviar. I was right-the aroma and flavor of the Vieilles Vignes Francaises was perfect with the caviar, and we ate and drank all that there was.
I was drunk, and I daresay that Maximillian had allowed himself to get a little tipsy as well. We laughed raucously at inane observations, and I told him about my latest Mulder problem. He was more than sympathetic with the concept of your dearest enemy making you absolutely crazy. He flirted with me, and made me feel like the most important person on heaven or earth.
There was no doubt that we would end up back in bed, this was my true recompense for fulfilling his need. We never talked about the exact nature of that, but I had my suppositions, and I doubt I could fully fathom the real character of his desires and remain human, or sane.
Mors stupebit et natura
Cum resurget creatura
Maximillian always made love to me; it was never just sex with him. The intense concentration that he focused on me was like the fire that brought down Icarus, it was sure to melt me, and my soul would plummet back to earth. He touched and licked me every where, the knowing hands and lips of my demon lover brought me to the brink, then eased off, again and again until it was my turn to writhe and pray.
He finally had mercy, and took me hard. I had my legs wrapped around his lithe waist, and his cock invaded me, filled me with such finality. He slid deep into me until we joined-- a distorted mirror image that repeatedly separated and came together. Maximillian had captured my hand and held it to keep me from my own cock, and angled his penis at every thrust to rake my prostate until I could take no more. I begged, I pleaded, I threatened, but he took his time in relenting.
Finally, finally, with the sweat running into my eyes and nearly blinding me, he took my throbbing, weeping cock and began to glide the skin over the hard flesh, the rhythm staccato to the fucking. Maximillian started to talk to me, and it made no sense, I didnt understand what he was saying. I opened my eyes and looked at him, the conjuration was in that other dialect he used before. I could feel the orgasm begin; my balls were in a pool of electricity that was gathering lightening to strike at my mind, my heart and soul.
There was no other lover for me; nothing that could compare to the intensity, the mystery and the perfect fulfillment Maximillian gave me. "I love you."
Maximillian looked down at me; "I love you, too." He let his hand at my crotch match the cadence of his cock, and he arched down to kiss me, his tongue forcefully thrusting into my mouth. I came, the thick ropy semen covering his hand, as he gently put his thumb over my slit, and controlled the orgasm to the rhythm of his thrusts into my ass. The intensity of the controlled ejaculation was too much- as I passed out he said good-bye to me in my mind, building the walls against memory, echoing in time with the fading ebb of the orgasm.
Marita woke me up from the sofa-I must have fallen asleep there. She looked concerned; her face loomed over me.
"Alex, are you all right? You never sleep during the day."
She straightened up, and I pulled myself to a sitting position. I rubbed my hands over my face, pulling the sleep out from the corner of my eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine." I looked at my watch, and I realized I was missing nearly two days.
Marita didn't look convinced, but she was willing to let it drop. We never investigated each other's actions to closely. There were some things that you just didn't want to know. Some things I didn't know.
"I've got a formal dinner with the representatives from OAS. I'll be back late, will you be here?"
I nodded absently. My mind was on problem of the 48 hour blackout. "Sure, I'll be here, I don't have anywhere to go."
"Fix us a drink, we can talk while I get ready." Marita kissed me on the cheek, and went to the bedroom.
I stood over the bar, looking at the two glasses and the decanter of scotch in my hand. It had been a couple of years at least since I had blacked out like this. I had even gone so far as to see Mulder's favorite hypnotherapist, but there was never any conclusive proof that I had been abducted. Some part of me refused to worry about it.
I picked up the glasses in my hand and went to the bedroom, wondering why I felt so fucking great.
Oro supplex et acclinis
Cor contritum quasi cinis
Gere curam mei finis
Fandom: Earth Angels/X-Files
Category/Rated: Slash, Het, Adult
Year/Length: 2001/ ~6800 words
Pairing: Alex/Marita, Alex/Maximillian
Spoilers: None for Earth Angels, other than Maximillian's existence. Some for X-Files through S8
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, only having fun. I just hope Anne Rice doesn't squash me too badly. CC and his cronies at 1013 I could give a flip about. Alex n'Max will be glad to go home.
Warning: Torture. Not for the faint of heart, but it's graphic only as far as it has to be, though Musical and Religious Blasphemy ensue.
Summary: Things are not always what they appear to be. Max is looking for something that only Alex can give.
Author's Notes: The Latin text of the Requiem is from 13th century poem "Dies Irae" accredited to Thomas of Celano. I have only used tiny parts, and they are not in order, and it's not my translation that appears at the end. Written on a dare from Jami Wilsen, to write something less than 10,000 words.
Beta: My darling Sue, of course!