Life from the Ashes Book 1 - A New Beginning
Chapter 10
Nikolai Slavaby Jo B.
purplefox@usfamily.net***
Moscow
Wednesday, December 30
1:00 p.m.The expansive office space was dimly lit and richly furnished, in front of the huge set of double doors was a raised platform two steps up from the floor, upon it sat a large glass desk. Behind the desk sat Nikolai Slava, he had just returned from St. Petersburg, dealing swift punishment to an employee who had embezzled from him. Only fools tried to steal from him and death was their reward, but with this fool he was generous and only had his hands removed.
If it weren't for this man embezzling money from him, he would never have flown to St. Petersburg. Then he wouldn't have met Special Agent Fox Mulder on the flight over. Fox Mulder had just become his special project; there was no way he could leave the beautiful FBI man alone. He was a collector of priceless artifacts: paintings by the great masters, sculptures, priceless gems, and antiques . . . the agent was such an artifact to be owned and admired.
Slava looked down at the young man seated on a pillow by his feet. Dmitry was a pretty man in his late twenties, with coal black hair and eyes. He had owned Dmitry for over six years and the young man had served him faithfully, providing for his sexual needs. But Dmitry had none of Mulder's classic beauty, grace, or intelligence.
He would reward the young man for his services by giving him back his freedom. He would no longer need Dmitry once he had possession of the FBI man. His slave stared lovingly up at him licking his lips. Slava spread his legs apart, there was no need for words . . . vocal or telepathic . . . he had trained him well. Dmitry crawled between his legs and unfastened the zipper to his expensive trousers and pulled his cock out. The young man then took him in his mouth, licking and sucking the bulbous head of Slava's large twelve-inch cock. Slava imagined it was Fox Mulder that knelt before him and that it was his full lips blowing him. That thought deeply aroused him and his cock swelled.
Guarding the doors to his office were four large Neanderthals, two on the inside and two on the outside. Slava employed an army of them to police his properties and mete out punishment. The two that stood guard on the inside shifted uncomfortably as bulges tented their pants.
Slava smiled sadistically, the n'thrals had strong sex drives and he loved to torment them by having in sex in front of them. They were not allowed to move or touch themselves. They knew the punishment for that would be extremely painful. He had fine-tuned his skills for physical torture using his powers as a sorcerer. With just one look he could have them howling in pain as all their nerve endings caught fire.
Slava looked down at the head in his lap. His slave was starting to age he had a bald spot, and faint wrinkles forming around his eyes. It was a good time for him to get rid of the young man. He could not tolerate imperfection. He grabbed Dmitry's ears and used them as handles as he thrust his thick cock into his slave's mouth. Dmitry attempted not to gag as the large organ pushed deeply into his throat, after years of practice he was able to handle the thickness, but the incredible length still gave him a problem. Slava had set a bruising pace of thrusting in and out of his slave's mouth, paying no attention to the comfort of the younger man.
He thrust in deeply one last time and came hard, he did not pull out until he had pumped his load down his slave's throat. Dmitry learned to swallow fast and thoroughly lick his master clean with his tongue. There would be a beating if any of the semen stained his owner's trousers.
"Very good, Dmitry," Slava praised him as the young man tucked him back in and zipped him up.
"I will be giving you your freedom soon."
Instead of a look of appreciation, there was a look of anguish on the young man's pretty face. Despite his circumstance, Dmitry had fallen in love with Nikolai Slava. Slava had pampered him and dressed him in expensive clothing and jewelry.
"Master, have I done something to displease you?"
"No, that is why I'm giving you your freedom."
"Please, Master, don't make me leave you." He was close to tears.
"I will offer you a choice, Dmitry. Your freedom or the auction block. Choose?" Slava was getting tired of the young man's whining.
"Mmy . . . my . . . freedom," he stuttered.
"Good, you may leave after you've trained your replacement. Until then I expect the same service from you."
"Yes, Master." Dmitry sat back on the pillow. He would take care of his replacement; no one serviced his master except him.
Slava turned his attention back to the laptop on his desk. He had many enterprises throughout Russia and Eastern Europe and he had been expanding globally. The largest and fastest growing business was the slave trade. It had been the smallest part of his enterprise before the attempted alien invasion, but now it had surpassed drug trafficking, extortion, loan-sharking, gambling, and the black market.
The New World needed laborers and prostitutes, and he provided both for a price. The basements below several buildings and warehouses in Moscow, Kasan, Omsk, and St. Petersburg were full of young men and boys abducted from around the world. They were being trained and conditioned for their future roles in life.
There was a high demand for attractive young men. He had received requests from the warlords and dictators, who had taken over most of the world's countries. A majority of the new rulers were Neanderthals who had taken control by sheer force and intimidation. The n'thral's sexual appetites were uncontrollable and they were back repeatedly to purchase new slaves.
The underground auction houses were packed the first Saturday night of every month with their massive, sweaty bodies, along with more dignified buyers. The prices for the most beautiful men went through the roof. Nikolai had agents in countries around the world looking for the most exquisite men. He'd had them kidnaped, then conditioned and trained on how to provide for their master's needs. The handsome Cossack found he could demand more money for a well-trained sex slave and virgins garnered the highest bids.
Slava was planning a trip back to St. Petersburg tomorrow. He was going to handle kidnaping Fox Mulder himself. Alexei Krycek was far too dangerous for any of his other operatives to deal with. Besides, it would give him great pleasure to take the FBI man right out from under Krycek's nose. They had been bitter enemies for years now.
***
St. Petersburg
Thursday, December 31
4:00 p.m.Mulder hadn't ventured out of his and Krycek's room since they arrived. He knew it was to avoid Scully, but he couldn't face her right now. He no longer thought of her as his partner; partners didn't lie to one another or betray their trust. But . . . whom was he fooling? Walter and Alex had also lied to him and didn't confide in him.
It was New Years Eve and tomorrow would be 1999, the last year of this century. Mulder reminisced about watching the New Years celebrations on television all alone last year. He liked hearing the psychic predictions for the New Year, unfortunately they were all way off, last year. He needed to get out of this room. Maybe, if he was careful, he wouldn't run into Scully.
Mulder listened at the door before opening it and stepping out into the expansive hallway. He walked to the top of the curved staircase, listening carefully before heading down. The agent headed across the foyer toward the parlor after he heard voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. He knew Alex was in the kitchen and assumed his lover was talking to Scully.
Mulder entered the parlor and turned on the light switch. Looking around room, his gaze drifted to the painting over the fireplace. He had been too distracted when Alex gave them the tour of his home . . . he hadn't noticed the painting. A light of recognition went off in his head immediately upon seeing it. He walked up to get a closer look. The woman in the painting was beautiful and her resemblance to Krycek was uncanny. As much as a woman and man could look alike, she looked like Alex. He imagined when Alex was teenager they must have looked like twins.
However, it wasn't the resemblance that surprised the agent; it was the fact that Walter Skinner had a photo of the same woman. It was on the dresser in their bedroom in D.C., Walter had told him it was a photo of his mother. At the time, Mulder had seen the resemblance to Alex in the photo, but didn't want to antagonize Walter by mentioning it.
Mulder thought back to the story Walter had told him of his mother's death and his father's defection from the Soviet Union, shortly after. That was in 1958 and Walter was six years old at the time. Mulder quickly did the math in his head, so, Alex wouldn't have been born until five years later. They were half-brothers . . . this was too good. He smiled as he thought of their reactions to finding that out. Still, he wondered what the whole story was behind this beautiful woman in the portrait and her faked death.
He was so lost in thought staring at the painting that he didn't hear Scully as she walked up behind him. "She's very lovely, isn't she?"
Mulder's shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice, he closed his eyes briefly trying to relax. "Yes, she is."
"Mulder . . . I really am sorry for lying to you. I hope that you will be able to forgive me . . . someday."
"Scully . . . people have been lying to me all of my life . . . I never expected it from you, too. You hurt me more than I can say . . . please don't expect my forgiveness anytime soon. It's not going to happen!" Mulder turned around and quickly left the room.
Scully sat down sadly on the sofa, knowing that she really blew it big time with her partner.
Mulder rushed back up to his and Krycek's bedroom, it was a mistake to have left it. Scully had hurt him deep inside, her presence brought back all the memories of their partnership. They had worked so well together and knew each other inside and out . . . but now they were strangers.
*Agent Mulder.* Mulder glanced around quickly upon hearing the voice in his head.
*What? Who are you?* he asked silently back.
*We met on the airplane . . . I'm Nikolai Slava.*
*What do you want?* A cold shiver ran down the agent's spine.
*I want to help you, Agent Mulder.*
*Why?*
*I'm a businessman, Agent Mulder, and for a price I will help you return to D.C. and back to your lover.*
*How do I know you're telling me the truth?*
*I know about the large inheritance that you received after your father's death. For say, five hundred thousand dollars, I will help you escape and personally see that you are returned safely to D.C.*
Mulder considered briefly, it was a lot of money, but it would be worth it to return to Walter. There was no way he could leave without Alex finding out and stopping him.
*Don't worry about Alexei, Agent Mulder, he will never know.*
*Alex is constantly scanning my thoughts. There is no way he could not know . . . I couldn't leave this apartment without him finding out.*
*With my help you can. Are we in agreement on the price?*
*Yes. What do I have to do?*
Down in the street in the back of a long, black limousine Slava smiled, the agent had taken the bait.
*Pack up what you need and when I tell you, walk down the stairs and out the front door. Take the elevator down and go outside. I will pick you up in front of the building, then take you to the airport. From there, we'll fly to Havana and hire a boat to take us to your United States.*
*Okay.* Mulder had a bad feeling about this, but decided it was worth the risk to be back with Walter.
Mulder retrieved his carry-on from the armoire, and started putting his few meager possessions into it, placing the wooden box containing his medication on top of his clothing. He felt a tightness in his chest. He had grown so attached to Alex that he was finding it difficult to leave him. He couldn't leave without letting Alex know how he felt, so he took out some notepaper and started writing his lover a letter.
In the back of the limousine Nikolai Slava concentrated on the other people in the apartment, it would be so easy just to kill them all and take Mulder by force. However, he wanted Alexei to know how powerful he was and that Fox Mulder now belonged to him. In addition, tricking the intelligent FBI man had added to his pleasure.
The four people in the kitchen found themselves growing sleepy. Before long the three adults had their heads down on the table and the little boy lay curled up on the floor -- they were all deeply asleep.
Mulder reread what he wrote, then put the letter on top of Krycek's pillow on the bed.
*It's time, Agent Mulder.*
Mulder pulled his coat on and picked up his bag he quickly left the room, hurrying down the stairs and out the front door. He didn't have to wait for the elevator it stood open waiting for him. There was something ominous about the gaping elevator, he reluctantly stepped in and it started down before he could push the button. He exited the elevator in the lobby and cautiously headed for the front door.
Just outside was a black limousine and a huge n'thral stood holding the back door open for him. He steeled himself as climbed into the large back seat. Wrapping his coat more tightly around him, he sat across from Nikolai Slava, putting his bag on the floor by his feet.
"Agent Mulder, it is so good to see you again," Slava said as the n'thral shut the car door and climbed into the driver's seat he started the car and pulled away from the curb.
"Mr. Slava, how soon does our plane leave?" Mulder wanted to keep the conversation all business; he didn't like the way that Slava was looking at him.
"There's been a slight change of plans." Slava smiled charmingly.
"What do you mean?" Mulder felt his gut sinking, he knew instantly that he was in deep shit.
"Now that I have you . . . do you honestly think that I will ever let you go?"
"We had a deal! If you want more money . . . I can give you everything I inherited from my father . . . there's over two million dollars," Mulder replied nervously.
"My dear, Fox, money isn't the issue. If I wanted money . . . I would put you on the auction block and easily get a hundred times that amount. You have absolutely no idea of your worth . . . do you?"
"What do you want?"
"Sex . . . obedience . . . loyalty."
"I will never give you any of those, bastard!" the agent hissed, trying the door handle in vain.
Slava moved to sit beside the outraged younger man. Mulder scooted away from him only to have his wrist grabbed and an arm wrapped around his slim waist, pulling him back close against the larger man's muscular body. Slava smelled nice like expensive cologne not rancid like Henderson or any of the past men that had tried unsuccessfully to molest him. Mulder tried to elbow the Cossack in the ribs, but he was held too firmly and couldn't move his arms at all.
"I'm not asking you to give me anything, moi krasivy Fox, I prefer to take what I want." Slava pushed him down onto the seat and covered Mulder's lanky body with his much larger, muscular one. He easily outweighed the agent by at least sixty pounds and was five inches taller than him.
Mulder struggled underneath the larger man, one hand broke free his other arm was trapped between his body and the back seat. Slava grabbed the agent's free wrist in a steel grip and held it down at his side, with his other hand he explored the agent's body. He pulled the shirt free from Mulder's pants and reached his hand under, feeling the smooth, warm skin.
"Get you filthy fucking hands off of me, you goddamn mother-fucker!" Mulder bellowed, bucking, trying desperately to get away.
"Now, now, we'll have none of that language. If you can't talk nice then you'll have to hold your tongue," Slava murmured, pleasantly.
Mulder started to tell Slava where he could shove that advice, but found himself unable to speak.
Slava enjoyed the shocked expression on the agent's face . . . he was so fucking beautiful. "Enough!" He sat up becoming impatient he wanted Mulder naked, now.
"Remove your clothes, Fox."
The agent didn't move; he just glared angrily at him.
"NOW!"
Mulder jumped at the loud command and watched helplessly as he lost control over his actions and started doing as ordered. He shrugged out of the thick cashmere coat Alex had given him for Christmas. Slava took the coat from him and hung it on a hanger by the car door. "We wouldn't want to ruin such a lovely coat."
The agent continued undressing, he glanced up as he was removing his boxer shorts and caught the eye of the n'thral driver who was staring lustfully back at him through the rearview mirror. Maybe he'd get lucky and die in a car crash before anything else happened.
Hearing Mulder's thoughts Slava turned angrily to his driver. "Keep your eyes on the road," he snarled in Russian.
Slava turned back to the agent who had finished removing the last of his clothes. He drank in the sight of him. Fox had a beautiful body long, lean, and well-toned muscles -- not an ounce of fat on him. He had very little hair on his chest and legs, and thick pubic hair running down from below his bellybutton to his groin. Slava would have him shaved when he got the agent home; he didn't abide body hair on his lovers.
"Lay down on your back, knees up, and spread your legs."
Mulder did as ordered and Slava continued his inspection. The Cossack smiled, unlike so many men, the agent did not have any hair covering his cleft or puckered opening -- this should make his first time with the agent more enjoyable.
Slava ran his hand down the agent's long leg and stopped at his ankle, he lifted the foot onto his lap. Admiring the its perfect shape, he lowered his head and sucked on each of Mulder's toes as his hands massaged it.
The handsome Cossack lowered the foot, then went back to studying the reclining body before him. Everything he saw was perfection: hands, arms, legs, and cock.
"Turn over and put yours knees under you."
Mulder found it difficult maneuvering his body on the narrow car seat, there wasn't much space for turning, but he managed to do as ordered.
Slava admired the cat like grace with which the agent moved. When Mulder was kneeling with his legs tucked under him and his ass elevated, Nikolai knelt behind him and caressed the agent's back. He ran his fingers over the FBI man's spine, stopping at his ass.
"Spread your legs wider apart, moi krasivy Fox."
Mulder shifted his legs apart exposing more of himself to the Cossack's touch.
Nikolai brushed a finger over the tight puckered opening. The Russian was painfully hard and his cock was straining against the front of his pants. Playing with the agent's tight opening only made him harder as he imagined his large cock possessing this body.
Slava opened his pants and pulled his large organ free. "Moi krasivy Fox, you will soon forget your other lovers after you've had my thick, twelve inches of hard meat in you, you'll soon be begging me for it."
Mulder gasped when he glanced over his shoulder at the Cossack's massive organ. That was going to hurt, how did he get himself into these situations? Mulder put his head back down on his arms, trying to block out what was about to happen.
"No you don't . . . pay attention, beautiful." Slava slapped Mulder's ass hard. He pushed in two dry fingers; he wanted the agent's undivided attention, so he roughly and painfully stretched him. Slava reached into a small compartment in the door and pulled out a tube of lubricant. He eased his fingers out and inserted the nozzle of the bottle up the agent's tight anus and squeezed a generous amount of lubricant into him. He pulled the nozzle free and squirted some into his hand, coating his cock. Then he eased three greased fingers into the agent and pushed the lube in deeper. He wanted to drive all the way to his root in that firm little ass.
The Cossack removed his fingers and replaced them with the tip of his fat, bulbous cock. Mulder felt large, hard object spread his cheeks apart, and the thick head push against his small opening, damn he was too thick, the agent tried to relax, but his muscles tensed up as Slava forced his cock in. Mulder screamed in pain when the thick head popped into his anus, stretching his sphincter muscle unbearably taut. The Russian's hands dug into the agent's hips as pushed his cock in further. He pulled back on the agent's hips, going in deeper and deeper against the resisting muscles. Mulder felt like he was being ripped in two, he had never been filled this tightly or entered as deeply and the bastard was still pushing his cock in deeper.
"Mm, moi krasivy Fox, you are so fucking exquisite," Slava exclaimed when he was fully seated within the agent's hot body.
Slava leaned back and admired their joined bodies. Mulder was visibly quivering trying to adjust to the unwelcome invasion up his rectum. The Russian caressed the smaller man's body, feeling the trembling muscles under his fingertips he tried to soothe him. "In time, moi Fox, you will come to appreciate my length and girth."
Mulder thought that would be impossible the pain was too great, but he didn't plan on staying that long to find out, he would escape first chance he got.
"There is no escape," the Cossack murmured. Reaching underneath Mulder's hips and found his limp penis. Slava wanted Mulder to be hard with arousal as he was thrusting into him so he started stroking and manipulating the FBI man's penis, until against its owner will, it started to harden and swell. The muscles in Mulder's ass had started to relax allowing the large Cossack pulled out part way, feeling the silky, hot passage grip his cock. He angled his cock so the mushroom shape head would rub against the agent's prostate.
Slava started slowly thrusting into the agent's body and stroking his hard, swollen cock. Mulder started moaning as his body betrayed him, he became awash with sensations of pleasure that over shadowed the pain and brutality of being raped and opened. His cock was straining against his belly as the Cossack's fingers gripped and stroked it. His mind was screaming his outrage . . . but his body continued to shut him out.
The Cossack pulled all the way out and roughly flipped Mulder over onto his back. He leveraged the agent's legs onto his shoulders and reentered him in one fluid stroke. They were both sweating and Mulder felt his sweat dampened back sliding on the leather car seat each time the Russian thrust into him. Two more hard thrusts and he came shooting milky white semen spurted over his chest and stomach.
The large Cossack continued to thrust and pound into the agent's body for what seemed like hours to Mulder. Finally, he felt the cock impaling him, thicken and hot fluid was pumped into his bowels.
Slava allowed the agent to lower his legs, but he did not pull out of him. He sat back with Mulder's bare ass resting on his cloth covered thighs and the agent's feet were on the leather car seat on each side of the large Cossack's body. Both men were breathing heavily.
Slava finally pulled his softening penis out slowly out inch by inch, still relishing the feel of the FBI man's hot body. He hadn't come so hard in years and had never enjoyed fucking anyone as much as this beautiful young man. He was going to have many decades of sheer bliss with Fox as his lover. After all, the agent was an immortal -- he would remain young and beautiful -- forever.
Nikolai Slava lay over Mulder's body and captured his mouth in a deeply possessive kiss. Not caring that the agent semen was staining his elegant suit. He wanted . . . no he needed to taste him, the agent was intoxicating, never had he experienced anyone so sensual. He was becoming hard again. Oh, they had a long drive to Moscow and he planned on enjoying the trip all the way there.
Up in the driver's seat, a very sweaty and aroused n'thral sat stiffly. The front of his pants was drenched in cum. The smell of the young man in the back seat was making him hard again and he weighed the odds of killing the crime Tsar and taking Mulder for himself.
***
St. Petersburg
Friday, January 1
2:00 a.m.Alex Krycek jerked instantly awake and glanced around him in a panic. Bill and Dana were still sleeping with their heads on the table. Matthew was standing next to his chair hitting his leg and crying. It was Matthew who had woken him. Krycek pushed his mind out looking for Fox. When he couldn't locate him in the house, he expanded his search to as far as his powers could reach.
Mulder was out of his range. Could Skinner have gotten past his defenses and snatched him? It hardly seemed likely, although, Skinner was remarkably stronger the last time he saw him. It was only a matter of time before the A.D. surpassed him. Krycek had unconsciously picked up the crying boy and was soothing him as he shook Bill awake. No it couldn't be Skinner, he knew the older man's essence from past encounters and he would easily be able to sense him.
Bill woke startled, "What . . . where?" He took Matthew from Krycek.
Krycek rose and started pacing. If Skinner didn't have Fox, who else could have gotten through? Slava! That *fucking* Cossack. He should have killed that man years ago when their paths first crossed.
"Damn!" Krycek slammed his foot into the wall breaking the plaster.
Matthew started to cry again -- afraid.
"Alex, what's wrong?" Dana asked, waking up to all the noise.
"Fox, has been kidnaped, again. Goddamnit! Can't we have one fucking moment of happiness together? I'll rip that fucking Cossack's heart out when I get my hands on him!" Krycek put two more holes in the plaster wall.
"Alex . . . calm down, who has Mulder?"
"Nikolai Slava that man who was on airplane with us on the flight here. The bastard's a sorcerer, and he's also the most powerful crime Tsar in all of Eastern Europe."
"Where would he take Mulder? Damn it, Alex, we have to find him!" Dana was fighting mad, Mulder may not have forgiven her, but that didn't matter, no-one hurts her partner.
"I . . . don't know. Slava has businesses and residences throughout Russia and Eastern Europe . . . he could have taken Fox anywhere."
"Can you get a list of locations? We'll drive to each one and if Mulder is within ten miles you should be able to make mental contact with him."
"Dana, you don't understand . . . Slava is a stronger sorcerer than I am and he knows my brain patterns. He will be able to detect me within a twenty-mile radius. He'll never allow me to get close enough to discover Mulder's location or make telepathic contact with him."
"Alex, we have to try . . . what else can we do?"
"I don't know, Scully, just let me think." Tears were streaming down Krycek's face, please don't let him hurt Fox. He should have let his lover return to Skinner. It was safer for Fox in the United States there were more people to guard and protect him.
Fuck, why did he have to be so selfish? Krycek had wandered into the parlor and stared up at the only person other than Fox that he had loved with all his heart. "Mother, what am I going to do?"
Krycek sat down in a chair by the fireplace, putting his head down he sobbed into his hands. Through his grief and fear, he didn't notice the room getting colder or the white mist forming in front of him. Krycek felt a soft touch of lips on the top of his head and the sweet smell of Lily of the Valley filled his senses. He looked up into the angelic face of his mother. She was semi-transparent and a warm golden glow surrounded her form.
"Mother!"
"Alyosha. Call your brother."
"I don't have a brother." Krycek looked at her in awe and confusion; she had used her pet name for him.
"Call Vladimir," she murmured before fading away.
"Wait, mother, who's Vladimir?" Krycek leapt from the chair and searched the room for her.
On a small desk the receiver from on the telephone lifted up suspended in air. Krycek walked over and snatched it -- when he did the buttons on the phone started to press down on their own. Krycek lifted the receiver to his ear.
"Skinner," the brisk voice on the other end answered.
***
Airborne
Friday, January 1
2:30 a.m.Walter Skinner spent most of the flight to Germany doing reports on his laptop. He had fallen way behind on his paperwork and was making a valiant attempt to catch up. The Director had approved his leave of absence with full pay, he was anxious to have Agent Mulder back, too.
The agent had garnered a good name for the bureau with the public. It was important to maintain the public's trust and confidence. It didn't look good to have the countries most celebrated hero staying in Russia. The FBI decided to keep the latest development quiet, until the A.D. could bring the agent back home.
"How long has it been since you've seen your relatives, Walter?" Frohike asked, trying to relieve his boredom.
"Forty years," the A.D. answered still typing on his laptop.
"What made your father defect?"
Skinner sighed and saved his report and shut down the laptop. He wasn't going to get anymore work done, now that Frohike was in one of his talkative moods.
"I was only six years old when we moved to the States. My father never really told me the reason he left Russia, but I always assumed it was to get away from painful memories of my mother. Since we left immediately after her death."
"How did she die?"
"She was hit by a car. My father broke the news to my sister and I, after she didn't come home from work. Both my parents worked for the Soviet government back then."
"At least going to Russia will give you a chance to visit your mother's grave, again."
"Yeah, hopefully one of my father's brothers will know where it is. My sister and I didn't attend her funeral. The only thing I have to remind me of her is an old photograph." Skinner's cell-phone rang and he picked it up.
"Skinner," he said into the phone. And waited for the person on the other end to response. "Hello, who's this?" he asked, growing impatient.
"You wouldn't happen to know a Vladimir?" Krycek asked weakly, recovering from his brief surprise.
"Krycek, what the fuck do you want? If you've hurt Fox . . . I'll . . . "
"Just shut up and listen! This concerns Fox. His life may depend on your answer . . . do you know anyone named Vladimir?" Krycek asked anxiously.
"Besides myself . . . no. What is this about? What's happened to Fox?"
"What do you mean, besides yourself? Your name isn't Vladimir."
"It was before my father had it changed to Walter. Why are we having this conversation?" he growled.
"What's . . . what's your mother's name?" Krycek asked in a small nervous voice, staring up at the portrait of his mother.
"Aleksandra Mikhailovna," Skinner answered harshly.
"Fuck." Being the only word Krycek could get out, as he sank down into the desk chair, holding the phone loosely in his hand.
"Krycek?"
"I think you better . . . meet me in St. Petersburg as soon as possible. I'll have a car waiting to pick you up at the airport. How soon can you get here?"
"I'm on an U.S. Air Force plane now heading for Germany. If you could obtain clearance for it to land at the St. Petersburg airport, I could be there in two hours. Now what is this about?"
"I'll get you the clearance, see you in two hours -- moi brat."
Skinner listened angrily to the dial tone for several moments, before putting the phone back in his pocket. What was that all about? Moreover, what had Krycek meant by calling him -- his brother?
***
Moscow
Friday, January 1
3:00 a.m.The limousine pulled into the private, underground, parking garage. The massive n'thral eased his frame out from behind the steering wheel. He walked stiffly around to open his master's door as several n'thral guards rushed over to assist.
As Slava stepped out, he reached a hand back to gently helped Mulder to his feet. He had helped the agent back into his clothing shortly before they arrived. Mulder swayed wobbly on his feet, only the Cossack's arm wrapped around his waist was keeping him standing. He had never felt so exhausted and sore -- every muscle in his body ached. His hair was tousled and his lips felt swollen, he stumbled slightly, and Slava braced him even tighter in his arms.
Three n'thral guards stared in awed admiration at the beautiful agent. So, this was the man that was taking Dmitry's place in their master's bed. No wonder their master wanted to get rid of his other slave, Dmitry didn't even close to this man's beauty. The smell of sex hung strong around their master and his new slave and the three guards shifted stiffly from arousal.
"Come, moi Fox, I'll show you your new home."
The captain of the guard stared in shock at the gentleness with which their master treated his new slave. His master was never gentle with anyone and here he was falling all over himself for this beautiful young man.
"Captain!" Slava called.
"Yes, my Tsar."
"I want my tailors here by noon and have a guard remove Dmitry's belongings from my rooms. Have them taken to the servant quarters!" Slava barked his orders at the guard. "Come along, moi love," he murmured lovingly to Mulder. Guiding him into the elevator, he made sure that none of his guards were close enough to even touch him. The agent leaned back into the comfort of his arms too exhausted to even think clearly, he needed sleep desperately.
"Don't worry, moi Fox, you'll get to sleep soon. I'll tuck you in and even tell you a bedtime story," Nikolai teased affectionately, hugging the agent close.
The elevator opened into Slava's private living quarters where two more n'thrals stood guard in front of the elevator. There were always guards posted there, whether he was home or not.
Dmitry had come into the room, hearing his master was home, he was anxious for his company. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the man held lovingly in his master's arms.
"Dmitry, Captain Mikhin will show you to your new quarters."
"I . . . I thought you wanted me to train my replacement," Dmitry stammered.
"My dear, Dmitry. Fox isn't your replacement, he is far too noble to be a mere slave," Slava replied, kissing the agent's cheek. Mulder only was able to understand a few words of what was being said, he knew very little Russian.
Jealousy raged in the young Russian's heart, walking toward the elevator, he pretended to do as his master ordered. Dmitry pulled a long knife from the folds of his clothing, and before anyone could stop him, he plunged the blade into the agent's chest piercing his heart.
Slava had been distracted by Mulder and hadn't picked up Dmitry's intention from his mind.
"No!" Slava cried, cradling the agent as his lifeless body collapsed in his muscular arms. Blood soaked his clothing as he quickly scooped Mulder's body up in his strong arms, holding him cradled against his chest he carried him into the bedroom and laid him gently on the bed.
Mulder's dark eyelashes lay tranquilly against his pale bloodless cheeks; his lips had taken on a blue tint. His heart was no longer beating, and he wasn't breathing -- dead. Slava stared down at him in shock. Mulder was an immortal he couldn't be dead -- could he? Slava tore away the bloody shirt exposing the agent's damaged chest. Getting up, he went into the bathroom and grabbed clean towels, filling a pitcher with warm soapy water, he brought it back to the agent.
Slava set to work cleaning away the blood from the quiescent body before him as long minutes passed. His hands were shaking as he touched the wound *don't be dead* he repeated over and over in his mind, but Mulder's skin felt so cold. Suddenly as if responding to his silent plea, the agent's body jerked as his heart started beating again and air surged into lungs. The alien virus had repaired the damage to Mulder's heart and set about repairing the damage done to his brain from going without oxygen for so long.
The handsome Cossack sighed. He had never felt such relief in his life and he honestly was beginning to believe that he had lost Fox forever. Mulder was still unconscious, but color was returning to his skin and he was breathing normally. Slava finished cleaning away the blood and took the pitcher back to the bathroom, pouring the bloody water down the sink.
He slowly and menacingly walked into the other room where Captain Mikhin held Dmitry in a painful grip after disarming him. He walked up to the young man and backhanded him hard across the face.
"Captain, give this piece of meat to your men to play with, then, if he is still alive, have him cleaned up for the auction block."
"No! Master, please don't . . . I'm sorry."
Slava ignored him and walked back into his bedroom.
The n'thral captain dragged Dmitry into the elevator, looking forward to the fun he and his men were going to have.
Back in the bedroom, Slava stared down with relief at his new lover then he started to remove Mulder's remaining clothing. Tomorrow his tailors would take the agent's measurements. He wanted him dressed in only the finest clothing. Once he had the agent undressed, he pulled the blankets over him to keep him warm.
Slava placed his hand against the agent's forehead, feeling the now warm skin. He pulled the blankets down, far enough to see the healed over wound, it looked several days old. Relieved that Mulder wasn't going to die and was healing fast, the Cossack walked back into the other room and picked up the agent's bag. He opened it and removed each item, American jeans were acceptable, but the T-shirts and cotton boxers were not. He threw those into the fireplace. Fox would only wear the purest silk boxers or nothing at all. Slava open the wooden box and surveyed the contents, he knew what the drug was from the agent's thoughts.
He took each small vial out and threw it into the fireplace, smashing glass on the stone wall. He was looking forward to experiencing the agent without the drug in his body. Slava wanted to walk into his auction house on Saturday night with Fox at his side. He wanted to be the envy of every other man in that room, to know they would never be his equal or have what he had.
He smiled smugly and walked back to the bed, he shrugged out of his clothes and lay down next to his lover's healing body, hoping Mulder would be well enough to attend the auction with him tomorrow night.
***