Memento Paperpusher

Slowly, slowly he traced the droplet of sweat with his tongue, shivering with sensation as he felt the body under his shift in response.

Hands, lips, thighs -- they writhed in time to his adept work as his attention focused on the valley of a hip, the stretch of a muscle, the tautness of a firm stomach.

He could feel his own body responding as he moved closer, tongue gliding in a dance of pleasure he could now hear reflected in the sounds coming from beneath him.

The moaning...oh, God, it reverberated throughout his body like a hot wind, making him ache, making his arms and legs quiver.

He licked his lips in anticipation, and then looked up into the face of Alex Krycek.

"Yessssss..." came the breathless reply to the unasked question. "You know you want it..."

Mulder bolted upright in bed, sweating, his hands tangled in bed sheets.

"Holy *shit*!"

"Mulder?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear what I just said?"

Mulder looked up from his neat row of pencils arranged across his desk blotter. "Uh..."

Scully scowled at him. "You can at least *pretend* to pay attention when I'm talking, Mulder. Y'know, the way you generally listen to me."

"Hey!" Mulder feigned a hurt look but had to grin. "Okay, point taken. Sorry, Scully."

"You've been awfully distracted for the past two weeks, Mulder. Anything you want to tell me?"

He shook his head. "Nothing nefarious. Just having trouble sleeping again."

"I could suggest better ways to deal with the insomnia if you'd like, Mulder."

"Soothing backrubs followed by copious amounts of cookies and milk?" he asked hopefully.

"No. Sleeping pills."

Mulder laughed at that. "I've got enough to deal with, Scully," he said. "With my history of sleep problems I'd be addicted in no time."

"I suppose you could always hire a masseuse who works for the Oreo Company," she said, grinning in spite of herself.

"Which would lead to another hopeless addiction," he sighed wistfully.

She playfully batted his arm. "Well, you're going to have to find some way to fix this, because I can tell it's affecting you."

"You can?"

"Mulder, you've been walking around here like a zombie for the past two weeks. Something is going to have to change before you either make yourself sick or get one of us hurt."

"You're right, Scully," he admitted. "If I don't make progress within the next few days, I'll consider the sleeping pills. How's that?"

"Better," she agreed.

He was kissing him this time, hot and rough, tongues colliding and stroking.

He was throbbing, his body searching for the release he knew only Krycek could provide.

A wet trail snaked its way down his throat as Krycek slid his lips over his neck. Krycek was moaning, a deep guttural sound that sent shockwaves across Mulder's skin every time his mouth moved.

Mulder needed that mouth on him, over him, around him, sucking, licking, teasing. He couldn't hold still -- his hips began slowly thrusting into the other man's chest.

He heard a soft chuckle as Krycek moved to kneel before him. "So hot...I'm going to make you scream..."

Mulder awoke with such a start that he almost fell out of bed. Panting, and feeling a familiar strain against his boxers, he steadied himself with a deep breath.

"My God...what the hell is happening?"

"Did you hear me?" she asked impatiently.

"Did I file what?"

Scully sighed and leaned against his desk. "I didn't ask if you filed anything. I said I'm due in Skinner's office in a little while."

"Oh."

"Mulder..."

"I know, Scully. I know. I thought it would get better -- I don't eat before I go to bed, no TV in the bedroom, tried the warm milk, mediation. I can fall asleep, I just can't...stay that way for any length of time."

"If you're still in this state by the end of the week, I'm going to take action."

"Y'know, Scully, they say sexual activity can aid sleep patterns."

She rolled her eyes and gathered up her report for Skinner. "I'll take your word for it," she answered sarcastically. "See you later."

"Maybe if you came back after your meeting in something red and reveal..."

She shut the door behind her before Mulder could finish his sentence.

While Scully was gone Mulder kept busy by re-alphabetizing some of their newer files. He was in the middle of the H's when the office phone rang.

"Mulder," he answered.

"Hello there," the low, sultry voice responded.

"Uh..."

"If you don't know who this is I'm going to be seriously disappointed.

"*Krycek*?"

"Ding!" he said. "It's so good you got that expensive Oxford education."

"Yeah, um, what did you mean, 'disappointed'?"

Krycek sighed on the other end of the line. "Having trouble sleeping lately?"

"I knew it!" Mulder hissed angrily. "You bastard...you've done something to me..."

"Well...maybe."

"Damn you, Krycek, when I get my hands on you, I'm going to..."

"Going to what?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

"Uh..."

Krycek continued, his voice taking on a warm, inviting tone. "You're going to make your dreams reality?"

"Wha? I...no..."

"Yes you are, Mulder," Krycek said, soothingly. "I think you're imagining it right now, in fact."

Mulder shook his head, but couldn't get the sound of Krycek's voice out of his mind. "I'm not...I...

"Oh, I know you are, Mulder," Krycek interrupted. "Just thinking about it is making you touch yourself."

"No..."

"Yes. You're sitting at your desk right now with your hand down your pants, aren't you?"

Mulder shook his head at the phone, but realized he really did have his hand down the front of his trousers. He didn't even remember sitting down behind the desk.

"Yesssss," Mulder answered dreamily.

"Uh-huh, and who are you thinking about when you touch yourself, Mulder?"

"I'm thinking of...I don't...it's...

"It's me, and I'm naked. Can you see it?"

Mulder grinned, his hand working. "It's you, naked..."

"Right Mulder, but you need to stop now."

"Stop? But it feels so..."

"I know," Krycek said, his voice still holding that steady timbre. "But you should meet me so we can talk."

"Talk. Okay."

"Write this down. Meet me in an hour at the Pour House, 319 Pennsylvania Avenue, Southeast. Walk down to the Capitol building and make a left. Bear right after the Library of Congress. If you reach Seward Square you've gone too far."

Mulder scribbled as Krycek talked. "Okay, Krycek. But isn't that a far walk?"

"Stretch your legs."

"Stretch, okay."

"See you then," Krycek said, and hung up.

"Okaaayy..."

It was a typical D.C. bar, but not crowded enough for Mulder to miss the leathered form of Alex Krycek.

Krycek was sitting at a table near the bar, nursing a pilsner of beer when Mulder walked over.

"This had better be good, Krycek," Mulder spat. "I walked all the way here..."

"Because I told you to," Krycek replied, his voice lowering.

"I...but you...uh...yes, you did. And here I am," Mulder smiled back. "What did you want to talk about?"

"An agreement."

"To what?"

"Well," Krycek said, "I have this brain tumor..."

"A brain tumor?"

"Yes, a nasopharyngeal tumor..."

"Like Scully."

"From an implant similar to hers, yes, but it's affected me differently. I seem to have...heightened abilities."

Mulder sat down on the chair next to Krycek. "Like what? I don't understand."

"You remember Robert Patrick Modell, Mulder?"

"Pusher, of course, he could...are you saying you have the ability, as he did, to 'push' your will on others?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, among other things."

Mulder scoffed. "I don't believe that. Modell's tumor was in such a position as to render him..."

Krycek sighed and lowered his voice. "Mulder, I can do it. All I have to do is make my voice husky and you'll do anything I tell you to."

"I'll do whatever you want, as long as you keep talking to me like that," he swooned.

"Mulder!"

"What?"

"Pay attention. The other abilities include the connection I have to you through dreams."

"My dreams," he echoed, suddenly looking up at Krycek and turning red. "It really has been you doing that. It wasn't just my, uh, fantasies, then?" he asked, making sure his voice couldn't be overheard.

Krycek nodded. "Similar to that 'nexus' you shared with John Lee Roche, only ours is slightly more...pleasurable...and I can't control it."

Mulder bit his lip and stared at Krycek. "So what's this arrangement you have in mind?"

"It's the dreams...I haven't been sleeping since they started."

"The dreams have been...um, quite vivid," Mulder admitted. "I'm exhausted, and my work is suffering. You have something that might help?"

Krycek cleared his throat. "I...um, I was thinking of one way to alleviate the problem."

When Mulder saw the look on Krycek's face, he immediately knew what he was suggesting. "You're kidding."

"It's the only way I can think of that would, well, burn off the excess energy and get rid of the constant connection between us. If we act on it, chances are the dreams will stop."

"And if they don't?"

The other man shrugged. "If I'm *that* repulsive to you, I can push you to..."

Mulder held up a hand. "No, that's the strange thing. I keep thinking of those dreams, and you, and those lips, and...wait, are you pushing me right now?"

"No."

"Then what was that bullshit on the phone at the office?"

"Just a little fun."

Mulder frowned, and felt something odd happening. "Hold on...if you're not pushing me right now, then why am I seriously considering this?"

Krycek merely grinned and finished his beer.

"Mulder..."

"Yeah, Scully?"

"Is it me or do you look a whole lot better this morning?"

Mulder just smiled and said, "It must have been the warm milk."