Out of the Blue

By Palinurus

October 14, 1997

It had been dark for at least two hours, and I had begun to despair. It was after ten p.m. when Mulder finally emerged from the shabby motel. He turned into the street, away from me, his obviously expensive coat flapping behind him, making him stand out like a sore thumb in this tiny rural town. He walked a block and disappeared into a diner, as shabby as the motel. He had apparently given up on his battles with Skinner over his expense accounts.

The lock of his room was no problem at all. It took less than a minute to get inside. I switched on the light and inspected the room. To my relief, the bed was king sized and stood on decent, old-fashioned legs. It didn't sag much when I sat on it. This just might work. I looked around a bit, rummaged through his bag, smelled his clothes (all newly washed), looked through his papers, all uninteresting and related to what he was apparently working on. I switched the light off again. Then I took off my jacket, stuffed it under the bed, and, with some difficulty, folded myself into the same space. It wasn't very high. It was very dusty.

I had barely installed myself when the door opened, then was closed again. The light came on. I heard him take of his coat and hang it up, then take off his shoes. He sat down at the rickety table and had just switched on the computer when he suddenly said, "Mulder," nearly making me jump. It took me a moment to realize that he was talking into his cell phone.

"I'm fine." (pause) "No, I'm not getting anywhere, it's like a bloody conspiracy of silence here. They look at me as if I have leprosy or something, and they speak only in one-word sentences. And they still manage to lie. I don't know what's going on but it's getting on my nerves." (pause) "That's not very funny, Scully." (pause) "Okay, well, it doesn't matter. I'm coming back tomorrow anyway. I'm wasting my time here. If there is an X-file here, it's buried under three feet of xenophobia" (pause) "Yeah, well, maybe it's my turn for a change. It wears me out to always be the gullible half of the team." (pause) (sigh) "Okay, I'm sorry, I guess I'm just tired and lonely and I hate this place. I'll see you tomorrow morning." (pause) "You too Scully."

The chair creaked. The computer was switched off, making a disappointed sound. He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard him take a piss, then the shower running. It's amazing how a few sounds are sufficient for a whole movie. Maybe being blind isn't as horrible as it seems. Maybe it's better than missing an arm.

The shower stopped, he was making toneless humming noises as he dried himself. I couldn't help grinning in my hideout. He came out of the bathroom, draped his clothes over the desk chair, and got into bed, further reducing my cramped space, but I still had room to move. The lights went out, the TV came on. He flipped through the channels for a while, then switched it off again. Silence. Darkness.

He moved, turned, then a rhythmic motion started above me. Oh god, this would get difficult. I listened to the tiny creaks of the mattress, and tried not to imagine what he would look like right now. What he would be thinking of. It was all but impossible. Then his breathing became harder. Would he be lying on his back? Hidden by the blankets, or in full view? I tried to control my breathing. He made a little noise. A muffled, throaty, raspy noise. I could imagine exactly how his face would tighten in intense concentration. I swallowed, with difficulty. The noises became soft, whispery moans. My heart wanted to jump out from under the bed. I pressed my hand against my chest to keep it with me, and my elbow hit the mattress, jangling the springs.

The sound was deafening, shattering the night, crushing me into the carpet, blinding me. When it finally receded, the movements had stopped. Only the panting, his and mine, was still there. I wanted to kick myself. There was no way the game could be rescued. He would go for his gun, he might even shoot me. I could grab his ankle as he got out of bed, but he probably would need more than one night to forgive me for that.

I cleared my throat. There was sharp movement above me. Quickly, I said, "Mulder, it's me. Don't shoot me."

A moment of silence, then movement. More silence. I could almost hear the wheels turning. Then, "Krycek?" Disbelief.

"I'll come out if you promise not to shoot me."

After a second, he said, "I promise I'll shoot you if you don't come out."

I got out from under the bed. He was sitting on his slightly spread knees, no blankets, with a wilting hard-on, illuminated by the gleam from the sodium lights through the thin curtains. No weapon. He stared at me wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open, looking like he saw a ghost.

I couldn't resist. "Were you going to shoot me with that?"

He grabbed the blankets and covered himself, then sat back, still staring at me. "What the fuck is the big idea tonight?"

"Mulder, I'm sorry. I was going to wait until you were asleep, and then get in the bed with you, and wake you up slowly by being really, really nice to you... But you sort of messed it up when you started making those noises above my head." He actually looked embarrassed. "I tried to ignore it but, um, I guess it didn't work, you sounded so... inviting... and then I hit my elbow against the mattress..." He looked away, then back, shook his head slowly, open his mouth, closed it again. Then he said, "Goddamn you, Krycek. I'm going to shoot you one day, either out of exasperation or by accident."

I waited, hangdog. You fuck up a job, you take the consequences. I did stare at his nipples, though, and thought they would look even better once I got my mouth on them. If only I could call him on that damned cell phone of his, make an appointment and come in like a normal, daytime person. But the only way to get him to agree, to win out over his rational alter ego, was to be physically present.

He leaned back against the headboard, still looking at me. Then, suddenly, he got out of the bed and took me in his arms, kissing me fiercely, wrapping one leg around mine. "I hate you," he said into my throat. I ran my fingers up his spine, then down again, into the crack of his ass. He started tugging at my T-shirt, pulling it up, over my head, dropping it on the floor. "You'll cost me my job," he whispered into my face, unbuttoning my jeans. "You'll cost me my sanity," putting his hand inside, "my friends will despise me," getting down on his knees in front of me, "my boss will never forgive me," freeing my cock, "and my partner will have me locked up in an asylum," taking it into his mouth. He sucked gently for a few moments, making my knees tremble. Then suddenly he bit me. Hard. I cried out and grabbed his hair, pulling myself out. "Jesus Christ, that *hurt*!"

"I'm tired of being the only one hurting, Krycek," he said.

That really pissed me off. I felt like hitting him, the spoiled brat, with his two arms, his tenured job, and his expensive coat. I pulled him up by his hair. By now, my one arm was used to doing the work of two. He grabbed my hand with his, trying to lessen the pressure. "Don't imagine for a moment you know anything about pain, Mulder. You have no fucking idea." He looked at me, eyes smoldering with anger, then they suddenly softened and he blinked. "I'm sorry." He had remembered that I was an invalid. Oh, god, this wasn't the effect I had aimed for. "Fuck that," I said, dumbly. Damn, damn, damn.

He knelt down again, taking off my shoes and socks. He looked contrite. It wouldn't help to tell him I could do it myself. Then he took me by my elbow and pulled me over to the bed. He pulled down my jeans, then sat me down to take them off. I suddenly started to giggle. Even naked, he looked like a nurse in a home for the elderly. "Mulder, this is how you would undress your grandmother!" He looked at me, horrified, then a lopsided grin appeared. "But I would never suck my grandmother's dick." He went down on me with a vengeance, I guess to prove his point.

I lay back on the bed. I felt good. It felt incredibly good. The blood rushed to my cock and to my head, leaving a vast empty plain in between. His hands caressed the insides of my thighs, he nipped on the tendons there, then clasped my cock between his cheek and his shoulder as he spread saliva all over my stomach. He cupped my buttocks as he swallowed all of me, the heat almost painful. His tongue rasped over the tiny slit at the top. My hips bucked, I couldn't help myself. Too fast, too soon. I quickly sat up, pulled up his head. "Mulder. Get up." He got up, panting slightly, looking confused.

Some things about beds and body proportions are very well thought out. His cock was in front of me, at exactly the right height. Before he could change his mind, I reached out, grabbed his ass, and pulled him towards me. He put his hand on my shoulders to keep himself upright. I slowly, tenderly, stroked his back, his ass, his thighs. He spread his legs slightly. I started showering little kisses and licks on his cock, which twitched this way and that and seemed to be straining to follow my mouth around. He began making little, plaintive sounds, and his fingers dug into my shoulders. I dug my fingers into the crack of his ass, finding his anus and massaging it gently. His knees almost gave, but he caught himself in time and stayed upright. I moved my mouth to his abdomen, kissing and licking my way around and enjoying his frustrated movements. I tried to reach his nipples, but that proved impossible, so I went back to his cock. He sighed deeply and leaned further forward, almost choking me. So I bit him, rather hard but not too hard. He jerked his hips back immediately, making me smile around his dick. I licked him some more, then begin to suck in earnest, at the same time pushing my middle finger into his ass. He gasped, the muscle tensing up. I moved it around a bit, massaging, pushing against the muscle, noisily sucking his cock all the time. His thigh muscles started to tremble. Most of his weight seemed to be on my shoulders now.

I looked up. He looked ravishing, his face slightly flushed from arousal, his lips swollen, his jaw muscles tensed, his chest heaving. He looked down, wondering why I had stopped. I moved my finger in his ass and watched his face contort.

"What?" he whispered.

"I want you to put on your coat."

"*What*? Why the fuck should I put on my coat?"

"Mulder. I want it. Do me a favor. I've gone out of my way to do you one."

"You have such a sick mind, Krycek."

"Coming from you, that's a compliment. Just let me know if you'd prefer to do without my sick mind."

He sighed deeply, then said, "So refusing means you're out of here?"

I smiled. It was so easy if you got the timing right.

He pushed himself up off my shoulders and walked across the room, getting his coat. "This is very silly." He put it on and started to walk back.

I got up too, caught him by a hand on his way back to the bed, and pulled him over to the wall, stopping him about two feet from it. "Lean against it on your hands." He looked at me in total exasperation, then complied.

He looked just perfect. The dark blue cloth of the coat made his skin appear almost translucent. The slit in the back of the coat, hitched up by his reaching, revealed his ass and his legs. His magnificent face looked over his shoulder suspiciously to check what I was up to. The long coat hid everything else. I moved up to his back and leaned against him, reaching around to stroke his chest, reveling in the feel of the soft wool of the coat, the clean smell of it, the way it plied itself around him in elegant folds. I pinched his nipple, slowly moving my hand around, and pushed my cock against his ass. He pushed back. I rocked against him suggestively. He moaned.

I left him briefly to get the lube from my jeans pocket, opened the tube and squirted some on my fingers, no mean feat with one hand. I began to spread the goo around his anus, moved inside, gently, giving his time to adjust. He was panting now, leaned his head against the wall to relieve some of the pressure on his arms, spreading his legs a little wider, moving with my fingers, rolling his hips. I pulled out and stretched out full length against his, rubbing myself against the cloth, putting my arm around his waist, supporting some of his weight. I thrust my cock up and down the crack of his ass a few times, then pushed against the tiny hole. He opened up slightly. I pushed harder, evoking a tiny whimper, then the pressure lessened and I got in almost halfway. I started a languorous rocking motion, in a little bit, out a little bit, then in again, further and further. He leaned on my arm very heavily.

I couldn't kiss his neck, the coat was in the way. But it was worth it. He looked so stern from behind, so serious, so much like an unattainable, incorruptible FBI agent, it made fucking him even better. I began setting a serious pace, pushing all the way in, pulling back almost completely. He was moving with me, rotating his hips for friction, muttering "yes, yes," through clenched teeth. I pushed him down slightly for a better angle to get to his prostate. At my next thrust, he cried out, and his knees really did give this time. I held him up and fucked him like a demon. He moaned, made a sobbing sound, and my cock told me he was going to come. He heaved some very deep sighs, and I felt a tremor running through him, starting way down, culminating in intense shivering. It was like an earthquake. His ass muscles clamped down on my cock, making my last thrusts slow but incredibly intense, and then setting me off too, coming in huge waves inside him. My legs couldn't support his weight anymore and we crashed to the ground. I somehow managed to stay inside him. There we lay.

It seemed like he had passed out, but when I touched his face tentatively, he stirred. He made some faint noises, and after a few seconds I realized that he was laughing. "Looks like we managed to keep my coat clean," he said. I held him a bit longer, smelling the coat, smelling his hair, a faint scent of honey.

"Can I take this thing off?" he asked.

I regretfully pulled myself out of him, got up and into bed. He took off the coat and lay down next to me. "What was that thing with the coat anyway?" "All my life I've wanted to fuck someone with a coat like that. An FBI agent with a coat like that," I said. Truthfully.

That shut him up for a minute. Then he said, "You're really screwed up, Krycek," and turned his back on me.

~.~

"Mmm..."

"Don't wake up Mulder. Not yet."

"Jesus, Krycek, what do you want now?"

"I'm going to act out my original plan. The one you messed up earlier when you started touching yourself indecently. It was a great plan. I'm sure you'll like it too."

"I don't want to do this. I'm sleepy. It's the middle of the night. All the good folk are asleep in their beds at this hour."

"Stop whining Mulder. You're not with the good folk anyway, no matter how hard you try. I brought you a little present. A little toy. Wait a moment, I'll get it from..."

"Knowing you, it can't be anything I want anything to do with."

"Here it is. It's a really cute little... No, don't look around, wait... Here it comes..."

"What's *that*? It can't be - Jesus *Christ*! Where did you get that from?"

"In an inside pocket of my jacket. It's a very nifty jacket - it hardly bulges, even with this inside."

"You weren't even *wearing* a jacket, Krycek."

"I took it off, you blockhead. It's a very noisy jacket, and I had to be quiet for a while, as you may remember. It was under the bed all this time. Waiting to surprise you."

"Mmm... And what were you planning to - Shit! Switch it off! That's really... really... tacky! Really... gross! Get it away from me!"

"Do you always have to start out by complaining? Just shut up for a while and let me expand your horizons for you. They definitely could do with some expanding."

"I really don't need your type of expansion, Krycek. My mind is sick enough as it is."

"Don't move. Let me do this, you'll only mess it up. Lie on your side, away from me. No, keep your hands out of the way... Shit, Mulder, give me a break, it won't bite! Just let me... okay... why don't you tell me a story?"

"You're... oh... you're *so* warped. Story... what about?"

"Anything. Tell me about your first time in Oxford."

"Ohhh.... my first time doing *what* in Oxford?"

"Don't be an asshole Mulder, or I'll -"

"AAHH!"

"pinch you right there, really hard. The first time you got laid in Oxford."

"Fuck you, Krycek! Don't do that again or I swear I'll kick you out, with that damned thing, and I'll keep your jacket. You should make... uh... mmm... ohhh... make a pretty picture... sitting outside on the porch... hehheh..."

"My *story*!"

"Ahhh... eh... Jesus, I can't remember what that... Krycek! Are you sure we should... you will be careful with that thing, won't you, I wouldn't want to... wouldn't want you to... ahhh... to lose it or something..."

"Don't worry, I've done it before. Lots of times. I won't lose it. And if I do, I'll get it back out. No no, don't turn around, I was just kidding... O, ye of little faith!"

"It's just that I would really hate to... really really hate to end up in an emergency room with this... this thing... ohhh..."

"Don't *worry* about it! Try to relax, I'm going to push in a little now. Jesus christ, this shouldn't be so hard, it's a lot smaller than I am, it just moves a little differently. Relax... there we go! See, it's not that big."

"Ahhhh..."

"Jesus Mulder, don't do that! I'll lose the damn thing after all... will you STOP THAT! Lie still for god's sake! Leave the big movements to me. Go on... your first time in Oxford."

"Okay... my first time... I think it actually was... Oh god, Krycek, don't... Oh yes... it actually was a disaster, I was at this party... ahhh... I can't do this Krycek, really, *Jesus*, ohhh... No, don't stop! You *bastard*! What do you care about that fucking story!"

"I want some fun too, Mulder."

"You're getting off on torturing me, that's it... you're disgusting... HEY! Shit... okay, I take that back, please switch it on again... oh yes... oh, oh god... this party and there was this girl and by the time... ahhhh... by the time I finally had the guts to... *Krycek*! Oh god... oh no... by the time I finally got her to agree, there... oh yes, ohhh... there were no empty rooms left, and then... oh Jesus, don't stop, keep moving that thing! Don't stop, oh Christ, *please*... then we had to go outside and it was winter and I was so drunk... faster, Krycek, faster... I was too drunk, it didn't... I couldn't... ohhh... ohhh..."

"Lie still... here..."

"Oh god! Krycek! Oh *God*! OH! "

"That should teach you something about your horizons, Mulder. You wimp. "

~.~

I always wake up before he does. I cherish the minutes I have to look at the back of his head in the dim light, feeling his chest move as he breathes, smelling him. That morning, his hair still smelled of honey, despite all the exertions of the previous night. The exact right smell for that light, for that moment. I stayed very still, but he woke up only a few minutes later. He turned onto his back and looked at me, exasperated.

"I'll never get used to you," he said. I think it was a compliment. "The next time you jump out of a closet, will it be to have sex or to kill me?"

"I won't kill you, Mulder," I said.

"That's today, but it may change next week," he said resignedly. I didn't deny it. In my life, the Fates move in mysterious ways. But I would much prefer not to kill him.

Please send your comments to palinurus@squidge.org

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