He touches me and my knees go weak.
I shouldn't feel like this, he's Mulder's enemy. That makes him mine.
But I kiss him; he never initiates what we do. I feel like I'm fourteen again, sneaking out to smoke my mother's cigarettes. Making love to Alex Krycek is wrong in all the right ways. He gently bites my lower lip and leans me down onto my bed.
With one hand he's quick to undress me.
My slacks.
My blouse.
My bra.
And he takes his time to admire my chest.
He looks me in the eyes; his green eyes are my drug. An addictive drug, one I cannot resist. I feel dizzy under his touch, out of my mind and I enjoy it.
He rips off my panties, and I gasp.
He's quick to stroke me between my legs.
I moan.
For a split second I wonder why he's not undressing. Then I feel one, two, three fingers slide into my juicy center. He's quick to find the spot that drives me wild.
And he strokes me harder and harder.
I spread my legs.
Three fingers are not enough to satisfy my desire for something larger.
I rub my own clit.
He watches me with a sexy smirk on his face.
My muscles begin to contract.
The beginning of an orgasm.
And the bastard pulls out.
I writhe in frustration.
I haven't finished.
"Alex? What the hell?"
"I'll be back later. I've got to meet with Mulder about a little green man."
He winks at me and leaves.
I cover my crotch with my hand.
I'm panting, wanting more.
I'll have to wait.
The bastard.
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