Alex steps from the bedroom, heart pounding in his chest. Fox is lying
on the couch, blanket thrown across long, bare legs. It makes the
breath catch in Alex's throat. Fox is so beautiful. What did he do to
deserve this?
Fox stirs, eyes meeting the sad green of his lover.
Alex drops to his knees beside the couch. Both hand and prosthetic
gently run up and down Fox's legs.
"I'm sorry, Fox." Whisper-soft. Alex swallows the lump in his throat.
Sharp teeth gnaw at his stomach.
"I'm sorry won't cut it, Alex."
Alex leans down and kisses the light fur on Fox's legs. "I know. Make
me sorry, Fox."
Fox glares at him with feral eyes, wide and blue. "It won't be
pretty," he says, already beginning to stand.
Alex leans over so that his head rests on the couch. "Remind me not to
hurt you, Fox. Show me how much you want me. . ." He stops
mid-sentence, not sure what else to say. It didn't matter; Fox removes
the leather belt from the desk drawer, the one they always used when
one needed a lesson.
Alex shivers, anticipating how much the leather bites. All for Fox, to
purge his guilt, both of theirs.
Fox raises the leather belt and swoops down. The resounding crack
echos through the silence of the room. Alex does not cry out.
The pain feels good against the flushed skin of Alex's back. He bites
his lower lip as the leather brakes skin again. Scars over scars over
scars across his slightly tanned flesh, from multiple leather
reminders.
Fox strikes and strikes, yearning to hear the screams that let him know
that Alex had enough. This time was not going to be like the others,
however. This time, Fox wasn't going to stop until all the pain Alex
deserved, he got. This wasn't going to end with sex. This would end
with one man unconscious and the other very, very happy.
Alex wriths against the couch, letting the pain seep into his back,
loving the warmth of the blood that trickles down his back. Tears
prick at his eyes, and he swallows back a sob. As much as he knows how
he'll break if the beating doesn't stop soon, he understands that this
isn't going to get any better. Fox is so fucking pissed! And that
anger is going to be taken out of his pretty hide.
Fox feels his rage, a pure hate, course up his spine and down his arm.
Such burning pain runs through his fingertips, so he lays the strap
tight to the shivering flesh before him. Alex is starting to come
undone. Only a few more until he'll be crying, then only a little more
from that until he is begging for it to stop.
The pain didn't get any better to handle. Alex let the shameful tears
course down his cheeks as the leather bites into his oversensitive
skin. It hurts so much; he wants to beg for Fox to stop. But it would
hurt more to not give Fox the release he needs. Even through the
whipping, he yearns for Fox's cock up his ass, and two arms encasing
his cold, shivering body.
No, Alex reminds himself. You don't deserve him. This. This pain is
what you deserve.
"You like this, huh, Alex?" Fox says as he lays on thick with the strap. "I won't stop until you are screaming."
Alex lets his voice ring out, and words flow in between the sobs. "I'm
sorry, Fox." "I love you." "Forgive me, please."
Fox relishes the cries his lover makes. It is music to his ears. He
puts all force into the next six lashes, then throws the blood-stained
whip to the ground.
Fox runs a hand down the blood trails on the back. He tastes the
copper sweetness and leans down to kiss Alex's ear. "I am locking you
up tonight."
Alex shivers. He hates the box. But to make Fox happy, he'll do
anything. So it's a dark, lonely night in the fucking box. Alex feels
his heart break over and over again. To think, it has to be the box to
make Fox love him again. It makes the tears continue to drip from his
eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Fox. Anything to make you happy again." He knows it
sounds completely pathetic, but every time Fox is upset it makes every
bone and muscle in his body ache with a pain that he cannot endure.
Slowly, he stands, and allows Fox to lead him to the box. He sits into
the cool wood, eyes still watering as Fox closes the door.
The pain from the whipping burns as the harsh wood scrapes against the
fresh wounds. He deliberately rubs his back against the box,
determined to make himself pay for making Fox so angry he would use the
box as redemption. In a sick twist of Alex's mind, he hopes that Fox
would leave him in the box forever. But then, who would he fuck?
***
The darkness crawls over his skin like spiders spinning webs. Alex
shivers uncontrollably and sobs under his breath. At least when Fox
lets him out he will love him again. At least now Fox won't tear his
soul with frighteningly angry eyes. Now Fox won't hate him.
Fox paces the living room trying to calm himself down. Anger fills him
from toes to head, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Alex is
such an asshole! As much as Mulder loves him. . .no, as much as Mulder
*did* love him. . .no. . .He feels so confused. Alex's cries had made
him hot, and he had jerked off, but he doesn't think he really wants
Alex anymore.
Fox sighs, gathers up Alex clothes and opens the door to the box.
"Get out."
Alex blinks, stares mutely at the man he loved more than anything.
"What?"
Fox throws the clothes at him. "I said, get out."
Alex's eyes drip with the tears he saves only for this man he couldn't
live without. "But, I-I thought we were okay. Fox? Please, don't do
this. I-I love you."
The words hit nothing in Fox. "No. I can't do this anymore. You
can't stop."
"I'll try, plesae, Fox. Don't. . ."
Fox turns and leaves. Alex pulls his clothes to his face and cries
bitterly. When he calms down enough to move, he dresses, and leaves
the apartment. To get drunk and maybe get killed. Without Fox, he's
nothing. Without Fox, he ceases to be a person. Without Fox, he'd
rather be dead.
FIN