Fantasy Fuel: Gifts: Marked

Marked

image by Belladonna

Author: Belladonna
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Krycek/Doggett
Spoilers: Oh, crap, were you serious?
Feedback: Don't make me beg. belladonna81575@yahoo.com
Dedication: To my greatest fan, my wife, and my muse. Happy birthday, Rachelle, honey. I hope you like it!
Summary: He thought this would be good for Alex, to have something to remind him of what he and John shared.

---

John had begun to notice that Alex seemed to be fascinated by his tattoo. Sometimes they'd be lying together, side by side, and John would realize that Alex's fingertips were moving gently over the place where the ink was laid under John's skin. And, late at night, when he was alone, sometimes John thought about his ink, and how it might look on Alex's skin.

John had been in shock when he finally got back stateside after the bombings in Lebanon. Nothing had felt real for John, nothing at all, not since that moment when John saw the building come down around them. No, that wasn't true. Things hadn't started to get surreal until he'd came to, buried under an entire building's worth of rubble above him; choking on air that was fouled with dust, sand, cordite, and the heavy almost sweet scent of blood; and figured out that he was pinned. There was nothing to do but wait, calling out occasionally to try to get the other Marines that were trapped to talk to him. A few had tried, their voices weak and ragged; but mostly there was just the flat empty, unnatural sound of nothingness. Oh, there were crews on the scene, seeking out the survivors, digging and dragging rubble away. But those noises were muted by the settling rubble, and by the ringing sound in John's head. Everything sounded far away.

It was two days before the rescue crews got to John. He looked up at the clear, painfully bright blue sky, his bloodshot eyes watering and burning, and reality had just… slipped away. John had taken everything in, feeling numb, like he was wrapped in cotton batting. The total destruction, the dead Marines, his own injuries, Barb's tears.

It was long after he was back stateside, when his own injuries were nearly healed that the shock finally wore off. There hadn't been any one thing that had broken through, not really. John had just woken up one morning and it was like the glass that had been between him and the word was simply gone. He'd wanted to weep, to hit something, to rip himself to pieces, but he couldn't let himself. So, in the end, he did what any good Marine would; he called the other surviving members of his unit, got drunk, and got tattooed.

John thought about all the scars Alex had; inside and out, and he wondered if Alex felt the same. The scars were memories, bad ones; but ink… ink was a celebration. A scar you made yourself, for your own reasons, one you chose and marked for your own reasons. It was something you could associate with good memories, not bad. John grinned to himself in the dark of his bedroom, wondering if he could find a good artist who would be willing to help him surprise Alex.

---

Three days later, John sat at his kitchen table, a stack of books from the library next to him. He wanted something small, discrete. Even though he had to turn a blind eye, John knew what Alex did for a living, and he didn’t want to make any problems for his lover with his bosses.

Eventually, John decided on Kanji. He poured over the book, struggling to find the right symbol. Love? Desire? Need? Too trite. Danger? No, John wanted something to symbolize the two of them. Something to make their time together real for Alex. Hope? No. John lingered over the symbol for faith for just a moment, but eventually moved on. What did Alex mean to John? John called up Alex's striking face in his mind; the strong cheekbones, the delicate line of his jaw, the emerald green of his eyes, and tried to think of a single word.

With a quick grin, John flipped pages, touching a symbol reverently. It was complex and quite beautiful. Yes, this would be perfect.

---

The next day, after work, John drove to Eighth Street to visit an artist who had been recommended to him by an old friend. The sign was large but not huge; Valentine's Ink, it read in dark purplish-red letters. John opened the door and went in, tugging self-consciously at his tie.

He was every bit out of place as he had expected to be. "Help ya?" The girl behind the counter full of body jewelry had pink hair and complete sleeves done in old-fashioned Asian type tats. There was a chill in her voice, and John flinched. Damn, he always looked like a cop, didn't he?

"Ummm… I'm looking for Rachelle. I called earlier."

"Last room on the left." The girl popped her gum as she jerked her head towards the back of the shop.

John nodded his thanks, and went down the small hallway, looking into each room as he went by, out of curiosity. The rooms all looked the same; shining black tile floors, black leather chairs, blindingly bright white walls. And they were all so clean they almost glowed. Mike was right about this place. The last door on the left was half closed, a sign saying it was the office handing on the door. John took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in."

"Hi, my name is John Doggett. I called early this afternoon."

"Hi!" The girl at the desk sat down the colored pencil she'd been holding and pushed her artwork away as she stood. "Rache Valentine."

John shook her hand, sizing her up. Bright eyes, great smile, amazingly beautiful and long-fingered hands. "My pal Mike said that you're the best."

"I try." She motioned to the empty chair on the other side of the desk. "So-- you said that the situation was special."

John nodded, settling in the chair. "Well, my--" John blundered for a moment. He wasn't used to talking to people about Alex, and he wasn't sure what to call his male lover. He stammered for a second, before deciding to just go ahead. If this woman had a problem with it, then he wouldn't let her do Alex's tattoo, it was just that simple. "My lover, he loves my tat, and I thought I could maybe surprise him."

When she said nothing in reaction to John's comment, he heaved a sigh of relief. Thank god. He didn't know if was up to dealing with any homophobia right now.

John tugged the photocopied sheet of paper out of his pocket, holding it out to her. He'd copied the page and enlarged the symbol he wanted, hoping to help her.

She took it with another brilliant smile, unfolding it carefully. "Kanji, huh?"

"It seemed like the right thing."

"Just the one symbol? It'd be awfully plain."

"Well, I though that maybe you could make it look a little fancier, but I don't want anything huge or ornate. It's not for anyone but the two of us."

She cocked her head to the side and stared hard at John. "Is he gonna like this idea?"

"I'm not sure. I think so." John shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling her eyes on him. "It's just an idea. If he doesn't think it was a good idea, then I wouldn't push, of course."

"Of course," she echoed, smoothing the paper out where it laid on the desk. "Tell me about your lover."

"Well-- he works out of town, so we don't get to see each other very much. Sometimes it feels like our time isn't real."

"And this will make it real?" She tapped the symbol with one fingernail.

"This might keep him from forgetting that he is-- loved."

For just a minute she stared at him, hard, like she was trying to see inside of his heart. "Alright, I'll do it. You make your plans, give me a call and let me know what night and what time, and we'll see if we can't introduce your lover to the wonder of ink."

"Thank you."

"Welcome." She pulled a business card out of a holder on the desk and wrote something on the back. "This is my cell number. Just let me know the when, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks." John was surprised at how grateful he felt. Before he got here, John had begun to think this was a stupid idea. But now, he thought he was right originally; he thought this would be good for Alex, to have something to remind him of what he and John shared. Something tangible.

>---

If John was exceptionally lucky he would get a phone call saying Alex was coming to see him before he actually showed up. If he wasn't, then he just found Alex in his house when he got home from work, or in the middle of the night. Of course, that had it's own kind of good luck.

John was content to wait until he got a phone call so he could call Rachelle and do this right. He didn't want to rush anything,

---

Two weeks later and John finally got the phone call. Alex had a whole weekend free to spend with John. John had never been so grateful for anything in his entire life. It had been too long since they'd seen each other, and even longer since they had more than a night together. John was looking forward to seeing Alex, regardless of how the tattoo thing worked out.

He called Rachelle and set everything up for Saturday evening.

---

All day Friday, John thought of nothing else except Alex. He got absolutely nothing done, and he finally gave up around six, heading home. Alex was sitting on the couch in John's living room.

"Hi," John said, dropping his suitcase next to the door and yanking at his tie. It shouldn't take too long; they'd been apart for weeks-- Before John could even get his suit jacket off, Alex was there, his hand twisting through John's short hair and pressing his lips to John's.

John was overwhelmed by Alex, like he always was. It was strange to imagine that someone who was capable of the things that Alex was, was so amazingly alive. John was a good man, a cop, a FBI Agent, but he couldn't fight what was between them. Not since that first night. By now John had learned to not even try to fight it. He simply gave in, wrapping his arms snuggly around Alex's waist to hold them together.

"Fucking missed you," John muttered into Alex's mouth when he was forced to pull back to breathe.

"Want you." The words were nothing more then a breath, but John felt them all the way down his spine.

Alex pushed him back against the door, hard, dropping to his knees. His hand jerked roughly at John's suit pants, and John heard the button fly off and go skittering across the hardwood floor and under the couch. The zipper was wrenched open with a metallic shriek, and the sound of the cotton of John's boxers ripping was unnaturally loud, even over their panting breaths.

John twined his hands through Alex's dark hair, yanking him forward. It was always like this, always out of control always right on the edge of violence-- "Now!" The word was a guttural gasp, and sounded nothing like John's normal voice. Alex's tongue dragged across the slick head of John's cock slowly, once, twice; then his hot mouth was around John. John cried out, the sound reedy and thin, his hips pushing forward. But Alex just shoved him back against the door, holding him there with his hand on John's stomach. One more teasing suck, and then John was deep in Alex's throat. "Yes--" Oh god-- John's head fell back against the door, even as his hands tightened in Alex's hair. Alex was so fucking good at this, so perfect, so fucking ready to please…. When Alex dropped his hand, John began to move, fucking Alex's mouth with his cock, John lost all ability to think. There was just heat and slickness and Alex's hot hot hot fucking mouth, the strong muscles of his throat-- John closed his eyes tightly, seeing brightly colored pinwheels of stars in the inside of eyelids. He could vaguely hear himself, muttering, begging, whimpering love words, words of intent, filthy words. When Alex picked up the rhythm John was lost, crying out brokenly as he came and came.

When John came back to himself he was laying back against the arm of the couch, naked and sweaty. Alex still knelt at his feet, his eyes dark and hungry. "Fuck, Alex…"

"That was what I had in mind." The words were a husky growl, and John felt his cock give a twitch. It was going to be a long night. Thank god.

---

Saturday night rolled around, finding the two of them still in bed. It was always like this if they went too long without seeing each other. They were just so fucking electric together that they had to fuck it out of their systems before they could even have a damn conversation.

Around eight, John started prodding Alex to get up and shower. "Why the fuck should we go out?"

"I have plans."

Alex looked at his distrustfully. "What kind of plans?"

"It's a surprise." John's head was pillowed on Alex's chest, and he keep his gaze lowered, not wanting to met Alex's eyes.

"John--"

"Alex--" For a moment John almost spilled his secret, terrified that Alex wouldn't want to get the tattoo. But then he felt Alex's fingers, tracing familiarly across the tattoo on his bicep. "I think you'll like this surprise."

="Fine." John jerked in Alex's arms, lifting his head. He'd expected much more of a fight on this. He was having trouble believing that Alex would just give in like this. But when John's eyes met Alex's green ones he realized that Alex had. Alex was willing to trust John, to follow him, to let him have control.

--- =

By nine thirty they were in John's truck and on their way.

They pulled up outside of the tattoo shop right on time. John stared up at the sign, dark now, no lights on it. He didn't want the surprise to be ruined. He wanted to be the one to tell Alex, to ask him. Maybe Alex wouldn't see the sign. When John looked over at Alex, though, the other man's eyes were strictly on John, an amused look on his face. "What do you have planned, Johnny?"

"Come on." John tugged at Alex's good hand, opening the door.

The shop was dark, except for a light on in one of the back rooms. They walked towards it, John calling out. "Rache? We're here."

"In here, John!"

Alex was looking at the walls, at the hand-drawn flash there, looking vaguely confused. "What the… what are we doing here?"

John ignored Alex's question and pushed open the door. Rachelle was sitting on a stool next to the black chair, her tattoo gun and ink already spread out on the table. "Alex, this is Rachelle. This is her place." Alex looked at John, then at her, then back to John, his eyes unreadable. "I thought that maybe, since you like mine so much, you might want to get a tat." Still no response, just that same calm mask on Alex's face. "I mean, it's just an idea. You don't have to--"

"Did you pick something?" Alex motioned to the small plastic cap full of black ink. "Was there something you thought I'd like?"

"Ummm-- yeah, kind of. Just an idea, you know? But, I kinda thought, it's a-" John reached over to grab the photocopied page that had the symbols on it, but was stopped by Alex's voice.

"Johnny--" Alex took a deep breath, and John watched as most of the tension in his shoulders disappeared. "Whatever you chose will be great."

"What?" John looked at Alex, confused. Surely he'd heard that wrong.

Alex tugged John into his arms and pressed his lips to John's lightly. "I said, I think it's a great fucking idea." John pulled away to look at Alex's face and was surprised by what he saw there. For once, Alex's eyes were calm, and maybe even content. He was happy. Happy about the tattoo, about the surprise, about John taking the initiative. He meant that it was a good idea. It wasn't something he was just going along with. Thank god.

"Well, if that's all settled, boys…" Rachelle's voice was amused.

"Yeah, it is." Alex released John and took a step towards Rache. "Where is this tattoo going, Johnny?"

"I thought-- maybe over your heart." John could hear the hesitation in his voice, and for a minute he thought he was right, that Alex would think it was stupid, but then he smiled.

"You are such a fucking romantic, Johnny." The content of the words sounded harsh, but the tone was as gentle as John had ever heard from Alex. "Okay, then. Over the heart it is."

Alex let his jacket slide off of his shoulders, handing it to John. The long sleeved Henley he wore was next, pulled off over his head, ruffling his dark hair. Alex only hesitated over his tee-shirt for a moment, but he took a deep breath and tugged it off as well. John wanted to thank god aloud when Rachelle said nothing and didn't stare at his prosthetic. John knew that if she said anything about it Alex would have shut off again, and no amount of coaxing from John would have gotten him back out of his shell. Then Alex would disappear into the darkness, and there would be no word from him for weeks or months.

Alex settled himself in the chair, his eyes still on John. "I'm ready to start whenever you two are." John nodded at Rachelle's words, moving to stand next to the chair. She had latex gloves on, and the gun lying on the table was covered in a plastic bag. She shaved a spot on Alex's chest and then cleaned it with alcohol. "This might hurt a little-- more like irritation than pain."

Alex laughed; the sound low and surprised. "I doubt I'll even notice it, but thanks for the warning."

She pressed the transfer of the design against his skin, and picked the gun up. She pressed the trigger down, and John was shocked at how familiar the sound was. It had been a damn long time since he'd heard it, but it wasn't something he could ever forget. "Ready?"

"Hell yeah." Alex was answering her, but his eyes stayed locked on John's face. John grabbed the other chair and sat down next to Alex, resting his arm on the armrest by Alex's. He wanted to hold Alex's hand, but he wasn't sure how Alex would react. They'd never been out together in public very much, and John had no idea how Alex would take something like that, so John just watched as Rachelle laid the buzzing needles against the skin of Alex's chest. He hadn't thought that he would want to watch, but once she started, John found himself quite unable to look away. The black ink went in smoothly, laying down a thin outline of the symbol John had chosen. Blood welled up around the design and she blotted it away, but Alex said nothing about the pain that John knew had to be there.

When the outline was done, Alex's hand moved, just a little, his index finger sliding softly over the back of John's hand. John looked up into his eyes, shocked at what was there. Love and desire and need. Alex was happy, right here, right now, he was happy.

John turned his hand over, grasping Alex's tightly. She finished the tat while they held hands, never commenting on the fact that they were both acting as if she wasn't even in the room. Alex's lips were curved up in a soft, contented smile, familiar, but also strange, because John had never seen it outside of bed. He'd made the exact right choice in doing this.

"I love you," John murmured; the words barely audible over the tattoo gun. Alex nodded, his hand tightening around John's.

In what only seemed like minutes, Rachelle sat back and quietly announced that she was done. John looked back at the tattoo, the black lines thick and clear in Alex's skin. "It's beautiful," Alex whispered, but when John looked back at his face, he realized that Alex wasn't looking at the ink, he was looking at John.

Rachelle laughed quietly, and smoothed some kind of cream over the tattoo before taping a piece of plastic wrap over it. "I've got a paper I'll give you that has aftercare stuff on it, but for now-- leave that," she pointed at the plastic wrap, "alone for an hour. Then wash it gently with an antibacterial soap. John can give you the details." She snapped her gloves off and tossed them into the trash can. "It looks great."

"Thanks, for everything."

"Anytime, John. Now, Alex, if you just want to--"

"Wait." Alex sat up, his eyes finally leaving John's face. "I want John to get one too."

John started, but for some reason, he wasn't really all that surprised. It seemed fitting somehow. "Anything you want, Alex. You pick it."

Alex looked down at his own tat for the first time, his eyebrows knitted together. "Do you have a kanji book?"

"Sure." Rachelle disappeared through the door, going to get the book.

"You sure about this, Johnny?"

"Hell yeah. Once you said it-- made me wonder why I hadn't thought of it. You have one to remind you of me… and I'll have one to remind me of you. It seems-- fitting."

"Yeah, it does." Alex squeezed John's hand tightly before letting it go to reach for his shirt.

John helped him get the shirt over the prosthetic and settled around his shoulders. Alex had just slipped his jacket on when Rachelle returned, book in hand. "Sorry, it wasn't where it was supposed to be."

"It's fine." Alex took the book, flipping through it with purpose. Unlike when John did this, Alex obviously knew what he was looking for. He pointed a symbol out to Rachelle. Can you do this one? Ornate though, a little larger than size of mine?"

"Sure. Let me get set up." She dropped onto the stool, turning to snap on a fresh pair of gloves. "Oh… John?" She twisted her head around to meet his eyes. "You okay with this?"

"Yeah, I am." John grabbed the waistband of Alex's jeans, tugging him against his body. "It's right that we should both have one."

"Okay then." She went back to putting black ink in a new cap and laying out fresh needles, still in their autoclave packages. "Where shall we put your new art?"

"Well--" John looked over at Alex, shrugging. "Where is she going to put the tattoo, Alex?"

Alex smiled ferally, his hand dropping to cup John's hip possessively. "On his right hip, here." Alex's hand tightened; and John couldn't hold back a gasp. The feel of Alex's hand there-- Alex was having her out the tattoo in the place where his real hand rested when he fucked John. The same place where Alex always left bruises; marks of ownership. It was the ultimate statement of possession. And the thought of it made John hard as a rock. Fuck, he wanted, needed Alex right this second. How was he ever going to get through this and survive until they got back to his house? "Come on, Johnny, we need to get those pants down below your hip." As soon as the words were out of Alex's mouth, his hand was right there, on the button of John's jeans, undoing it and slowly easing the zipper down. John was struck dumb when Alex made sure to rub the backs of his fingers against his hard cock as he pushed the jeans down over the curve of John's ass. Alex leaned close, his lips brushing John's ear. "When we get home I'm gonna fuck you, Johnny."

"Fuck." John muttered the word when Alex ground his hard cock into his bare hip. "Jesus, Alex, how do you expect me to do this when you've got me all wound up like this?"

"Admit it, Johnny, you've been hard since I went under that needle." Alex's voice was low, seductive, and John never had a fucking chance. He was still shuddering at the feel of Alex's hot breath against his ear when Alex spun him around, pushing him down into the chair. While John gaped up at Alex in shock, Rachelle spoke through snickering laughter.

"Do you boys need a minute before we do this?"

"That would be lovely of you." Alex was already tugging John's jeans down to his knees, leaving him only in boxers.

"God, the things I have to deal with for love," she muttered, obviously trying to sound pissed off, but the laugher was still there. She snapped off her gloves and ducked out the door. "You boys just let me know when you're ready to get started."

"Thanks," Alex muttered, his hand sliding John's boxers down over his hips.

"Alex! What the fuck are you doing?" Jesus, John was angry, but damn, this was so fucking hot… He couldn't fight this. Alex was too strong, too huge. He was like a fucking force of nature.

"I'm gonna suck your cock, and then you're going to get inked." Alex got the boxers down to John's knees, and he wrapped his hand around John's straining cock. "Fuck, John, I'd do this while she tattooed you, if she'd let me." His hand moved, up and down, quickly, trying to get John as hot as possible as quickly as possible. It worked. He moved his hand down to cup John's balls and leaned forward. "And don't forget, that when we get back to your place," Alex leaned even closer, his hot breath ghosting across John's cock. "I'm gonna strip you down, and fuck you until you scream." Alex took John's cock deep into his throat, swallowing around it as he massaged John's balls. John had to bite back a cry at the intensity of the feeling. Fuck, Alex was always so damn good at this-- Alex did that thing with his tongue, rubbing right under the head of John's cock, and that was all it took. John was coming, biting down on the inside of his wrist to stifle his scream.

When John's brain finally began firing again, Alex was tugging John's boxers up to cover his spent cock. "Fuck." John let his head roll aimlessly against the headrest on the chair, struggling to catch his breath.

"Yep, that's the plan." Alex stood, cupping John's hip possessively. "I think we can do this now." For a moment, John wondered why Alex's voice was so loud, but then he figured out that Alex wasn't even talking to him. He was talking to Rache.

"Alex-- what about-"

"I can wait." John nodded in answer, struggling to not look at Alex's hard cock tenting the front of his jeans. Alex leaned forward and pressed his lips to John's softly, chastely, just as the door opened behind him.

"Everything under control in here?" There was still laughter in Rachelle's voice, but it was overlaid with heat, and John realized that there wasn't any way that she couldn't have overheard them. He blushed, feeling the heat crawl up his neck and face. But, thank god, Rachelle treated the two of them like this was something that happened every day. She just sat down on the stool and laid down the stuff she'd been carrying. A photocopy of the page Alex had pointed out, and a transfer like the one she'd used to guide her on Alex's skin. She grinned and pulled on a pair of gloves.

John wiggled a little in the chair, trying to get comfortable. When he was settled he nodded at Rachelle, taking Alex's hand in his own. "Ready to go when you are."

"Good." She picked up the transfer and a spray bottle of water, laying the transfer right over the bony outcropping of his hip. "Alex?"

Alex craned his neck to see, and John gasped at the smile on his face. Predatory was the only word for that look. "That's perfect," Alex muttered, leaning closer to press his lips to John's ear. "That's my spot. The place where my hand goes when I fuck you. Now it's really mine."

"Yes, it is." John was so caught in Alex's eyes that he hardly noticed the buzzing of the gun or the small pain as Rachelle began the outline. The longer she worked, the more turned on Alex got; his breathing speeding up, his eyes growing darker, his hand tightening on John's. Alex loved this, watching the ink go in under John's skin. And John had forgotten how amazing this felt; to know he was being marked. By the time she started on filling in the symbols, the endorphins had kicked in, and John felt like he was floating.

It seemed like only another moment passed, and then Rachelle was speaking to Alex, softly, taping a piece of plastic over John's hip. Alex squeezed John's hand once more before releasing him. "Stay put."

John did. There was very little else he felt like doing right now. He felt stoned and drunk and deliriously good. John just laid there in the chair, his hips throbbing in time with the beating of his heart, imagining Alex's hand closing over the black ink as John was fucked. The thought of it made John's cock wake back up, and he hoped that Alex could come back to see him soon. Right after the tat healed. And, until then, John would be able to care for the ink, knowing that the mark was one that Alex had put on him. Alex had claimed him in a primitive way, and it meant that John would never lose what they had.

---

Alex left late Sunday night, pressing the sweetest, softest goodbye kiss they'd ever shared to John's lips. "I love you," he'd whispered, his hand hovering just above the new tattoo.

"I love you," John had answered, trying not to beg Alex to stay. But, on the way out, Alex had pressed his palm flat to his own chest, right over his heart. The motion had made John feel immeasurably better. Alex couldn't forget about them, and neither would John.

And if he found himself with his hand resting over his sore hip all week, well, that was perfectly fine. The slight throbbing on his hip felt almost exactly like a bruise did, the day after. John was comforted by that. Alex was still with him. And John finally broke down and looked up his own symbols. Hero. That was the word that Alex had marked him with, the word that Alex had chosen for John, the word he felt strongly enough about to have it placed permanently on John's skin to mark his possession. Hero. The word warmed John when he was in his bed alone, in the dark. John was loved, he was needed.

John couldn't wait until their new ink was healed, so he could run his tongue over the black symbols on Alex's chest. He wondered how long Alex would wait before he looked the symbol up. John hoped he'd be pleased.

Warrior, John had chosen for his lover. Warrior.

END