Never Forget

The lean, chestnut-haired man stirs, freezes, realizes who the other person in his bed is, then relaxes with a soft sigh. Tentatively, as if he expects the other man to strike out at him because of it, he slides the palm of his hand across the broad, finely muscled chest under it. His companion grunts and arches into the touch slightly, then turns toward the touch, shifting in the bed.

Is this still 'his' Krycek? he wonders, ring finger moving in soft, almost unconscious circles around one tightening nipple. The Krycek in question sighs, soft pink lips parting on slightly accelerated breaths as the long, slender finger brushes over the hard nub before circling it again.

"Mmmmmulder..." Mulder's chest and groin simultaneously tighten at the low, open need in that husky voice. He moves in closer on his side, pressing his hardening groin against one slim hip with a soft gasp. The self-preserving, paranoid side of him worries that last night was all a ruse...an attempt to get him to drop his guard (and his pants?) so that Krycek could get the upper hand. The other side of him, the side that finally got what it wanted after three years of thinking it would always be denied, is content to pretend it doesn't matter. Almost desperately, Mulder shuts out any thoughts of duplicity, telling himself that he will have this man, *this* Krycek, for only a short time more, and he will take advantage of every moment.

"G'morn-" Krycek begins, eyes opening lazily, but Mulder's hand lifts quickly from Krycek's chest to his mouth and he covers it, shaking his head.

"Shhh..." he says softly. "I need this. I don't care if it's...I don't care. Just...don't talk." He looks intently into Krycek's eyes, watches them widen, watches the lashes flutter as he blinks in confusion, then watches them soften as the dark head nods once in acknowledgement and acquiesces. Mulder sighs with relief, then smiles as he feels Krycek's hot, wet tongue dart out against the palm of his hand. He lowers his hand, stroking over the slightly parted, moist lips with his thumb. "I don't know what this is...what I've been given here. I don't know if it's real or just part of an elaborate scheme." Krycek's eyes narrow, but Mulder continues. "Whatever is going to happen will just have to happen. It's gone too far for me to pretend I don't need this. So whatever else you've got planned, Krycek, I'm going to fuck you now."

Krycek's gasp is loud in the room, the warm puff of air washing over Mulder's thumb where it still lays gently on the plump lower lip. Mulder slides his hand up Krycek's jaw and into the dark hair, taking a firm grip and bending in to take the shocked mouth.

As soon as his lips touch Krycek's, he pushes his tongue deeply into Krycek's mouth, nudging Krycek's tongue aside and fucking his mouth deeply, possessively. Krycek's body arches up off the bed and Mulder feels two hot hands land on different areas of his body, one on the back of his neck, pressing him in harder, and one moving down his back, grabbing and squeezing along the way. He moves his body over Krycek's, thrusting his cock against Krycek's hip as he presses his knee in between the opening thighs. He rides it as he slips his freed hand under one tensing butt cheek, Krycek's hip lifting, grinding against Mulder's crotch.

"Mldrr..." Krycek attempts to speak around the tongue filling his mouth, and Mulder kisses him harder, turning the words into a deep grunting groan. No words. Just this...just this. When he is reasonably certain his message has been received, and the only sound coming from Krycek is a deep, whimpering moan, Mulder nips his full lower lip one last time then begins kissing his way down the jaw and to the side of the throat, grunting quietly.

Krycek arches again, tilting his head to the side to give Mulder better access, and with a growl, Mulder takes it, fastening his mouth on the side of the strong, pale column hungrily. He sucks hard, yanking Krycek's groin up against his own, groaning as his cock is mashed between them. When he's satisfied with the deep red and purple mark, he leans back just enough to look at Krycek's flushed face.

"Don't say anything," Mulder whispers, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Krycek's, keeping them there as he speaks. "Please...don't say anything."

Again, Krycek nods against Mulder's lips, then Mulder kisses him again, sliding his hands over the body under him, beginning to thrust and slide their two cocks together. Mulder can't decide between closing his eyes and thus living out his fantasy, or keeping them open and actually seeing it beneath him. He's so afraid that if he watches too closely, pays too much attention, that Krycek will give something away, leading Mulder to believe that his amnesia is all just a game. As Mulder thrusts against him, reaching for the bedside lotion bottle and a condom, and tries not to entertain the fears blooming in his heart...fears that, even if it *is* a game, that he'll never stop needing this. And needing this when Krycek is just playing him is a pain he's not sure he can bear.

That's why his vision is blurry and there's a sick feeling in his stomach warring with his intense arousal as he dons a condom and pours out some lotion in his hand, sliding a thick coating over his erection.

"Turn over," he rasps, thinking that if he fucks the man from behind that any flicker of the real person inside this delicious body will be hidden from him. Krycek quickly and wordlessly complies, spreading his legs as he leans forward on forearms and knees. So pretty, so perfect, so willing...Mulder closes his eyes against the tears, then opens them and reaches down, sliding one slick thumb over the tight little opening being offered to him. Krycek grunts and whimpers as the thumb begins to circle, then gasps as Mulder pushes it in deeply. Mulder bites his lip, feeling his cock twitch and throb impatiently as he leaves his thumb there, letting the muscle and skin adjust to the invasion. When it's no longer being gripped painfully hard, he begins to pull it out then pushes back in, fucking Krycek's ass slowly and carefully with one long, slender, lotion-slicked thumb.

Krycek, ordered to say nothing, simply moans and whines and then begins moving against the thumb, forcing it deeper. Mulder replaces the thumb with two fingers and when those are received just as successfully, he withdraws them and takes his slippery cock in hand.

"Always wanted to fuck you," he whispers, feeling the terror of this disclosure cause a rush of adrenaline. Krycek knows his secret now. He can't help but wonder how it will be used against him in the future.

"Mulder..." the other man whispers, his voice broken.

To silence him, Mulder lines up quickly and shoves himself inside up to the hilt with a deep cry. Krycek cries out, too, losing his breath for a moment, and they both gasp and pant, recovering. Mulder begins to thrust, withdrawing and driving in, first slowly, then faster and faster until he's pounding into Krycek's body, flesh slapping against flesh, both men grunting with each impact.

"Oh God!" Mulder sobs. "Why couldn't you have just been this?" he whispers to himself. "Just this...just this..." He's breathing hard with the exertion of fucking Krycek so fiercely, and Krycek doesn't say a word, only whimpering, moaning and groaning as Mulder pushes him into the mattress.

"T-touch...yourself..." Mulder gasps out, and immediately Krycek slides a hand backward, taking his weight on one shoulder, his face being pressed into the sheets as he rapidly jacks himself to Mulder's thrusts. Within a few minutes, Krycek is yelling incoherently into the bedsheets as he comes all over them, and Mulder groans and grips his hips hard, driving in a few more times before crying out his own orgasm, jerking and shuddering, his body slowly relaxing down over the top of Krycek as he comes.

Both men collapse on the bed, Mulder still buried in Krycek. When they can both breathe a bit more steadily, although Krycek is having a problem breathing freely with Mulder lying on top of him, Mulder reaches down and takes hold of the base of his cock, carefully sliding out of Krycek and rolling his way off the mattress, leaving the bedroom to dispose of the condom in the bathroom.

While there, he looks at his face and notices that it seems some of the lines he'd been seeing lately have gone. A good fuck will do that for you, he tells himself, then frowns at his reflection in the mirror, remembering the disclosures he made during that fuck. He doesn't ever want to walk out and face the other man, but avoiding him is a show of weakness as well, he finally decides. He showers, brushes his teeth, and shaves, then exits the bathroom calm, cool, and collected. He strides into his bedroom and over to his dresser, trying to ignore the bed, although he can see out of the corner of his eye that it is still occupied. When he hears nothing as he pulls out a pair of underwear and socks, he finally turns, a frown creasing his brow.

Krycek is sitting up in bed, knees bent, arms wrapped around them. His head is laid on his knees and he appears to be staring at nothing. Mulder's frown deepens, and he stands there holding his underwear in one hand, dress socks in the other. He starts to feel guilty, then that makes him angry, and finally he turns away and roughly steps into his underwear, jerking on his socks, then reaching into his closet to take a suit off the rack.

"I have to go to work," he says quietly. Then he realizes he isn't sure what to do with the man in his bed. He can't let him go...he's a criminal. He can't take him in...the man came to him for help, and Mulder made an unspoken promise to give it. He just wants Krycek to stay here, waiting for him, until he can come home and talk to him some more. Mulder feels more and more frustrated and uncomfortable as he realizes what his life has just become.

"Do...you want me to go?" the man on the bed asks, hesitant as though he's not sure if he's yet allowed to speak.

"No," answers Mulder quickly. "No, I'd...like you to stay." But don't go through my things, don't get on my computer, don't look at my video collection... Mulder sighs heavily. There is no way he can work knowing Krycek is milling about his apartment, possibly amnesiac and possibly not. Slowly, he puts the suit back on the rack, then opens the dresser again, pulling out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Then, considering, he pulls out another set of clothes and tosses them on the bed without looking at it. "Just...stay here a minute," he says, still not looking at the man on the bed, who himself hasn't moved during the short conversation. He pulls on the jeans and shirt and quickly goes into the living room, picking up the phone.

"This is Fox Mulder, Special Division X-files. I won't be in today. I'm sick." He hangs up the phone and rubs his face with his hand, then rakes it back through his hair. He stares at the ajar bedroom door, finally hearing the sounds of Krycek getting up off the bed. He turns quickly as Krycek comes out of the bedroom nude, heading slowly for the bathroom. Mulder heads into the kitchen and decides to make breakfast for the first time in months as he listens to the sounds of Krycek's shower, then as the water turns off and he hears Krycek leave the bathroom, he brings out coffee, eggs, and toast and lays out two plates on the coffee table.

Jesus Christ, here I am fixing Alex Krycek breakfast like some Goddamned housewife, he laments to himself as he brings the sugar out to the table, remembering how Krycek liked his coffee when they were partners. Then in a fit of pique, he takes it back into the kitchen, deciding Krycek can get his own damned sugar if he wants it. He's sighing with disgust at his own immaturity when Krycek walks out of his bedroom, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, hair wet and spiky, face clean-shaven. As Krycek sees the food on the coffee table, his lips part in surprise, then he looks from the food to Mulder, brows arched.

Mulder shrugs, barely making eye contact, then sits down at his plate and starts eating. Krycek slowly shuffles over and lowers himself slowly and somewhat gingerly onto the couch, then begins to eat his breakfast, Mulder blushing and trying not to breathe his scent too deeply.

When they are half-way through their silent meal, Krycek clears his throat.

"Can I talk?" he asks simply, looking at Mulder, sitting two feet away on the couch next to him.

"Of course," answers Mulder, shoveling in another bite of food to avoid having to say more.

Krycek nods and returns to his meal, and they finish it in silence. When the food is gone, Krycek picks up both plates and takes them into the kitchen, and Mulder frowns as he hears water running. A few minutes later, Krycek comes back in, his bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floor except for the soft creaks. He takes his seat beside Mulder again, carefully and with a small sigh, then they sit there, drinking their coffee, both staring straight ahead.

"I'm sorry," Krycek says, finally breaking the silence with a low rasp. "I must have really hurt you."

Mulder turns his head and studies him, eyes narrowed, until Krycek fidgets and looks down, frowning. Mulder inhales deeply then lets it out slowly.

"What do you want?" Mulder finally says, voice low.

Krycek looks up, mouth parting to speak, then licks his lips and stares down at the floor. "I wanted you to help me find out who I am," he says quietly, staring at nothing. "But now I know I don't ever wanna be that again, so I'm not sure." He trails off, eyes widening and blinking rapidly. Then, after several long, uncomfortable minutes, he looks up, squinting at Mulder. "What do *you* want?"

Mulder feels himself blush again, remembering what he told Krycek he wanted when they were in bed. But Krycek's face is serious and imploring, and Mulder gives it some truly deep thought.

"I-I guess I want two things," he answers softly.

"What?" Krycek asks quickly, as though he's eager to give them to him.

"I want to know all the things *you* know...or...knew..." he says, shrugging as he realizes how he sounds. "But I..." He can't quite make himself say it, but his mind thinks it hard and sure. I want *you*.

Krycek sighs deeply and heavily, and it's quiet for several more moments, both men out of coffee and so unable to even feign drinking any longer.

"Whatever you want," Krycek finally says in hushed voice. "That's what I want."

Mulder frowns deeply, studying the other man once again. He doesn't know what he wants, now that it's on offer. The other Krycek, the Krycek he knew, had secrets...knowledge...power and influence...and he was a killer, a liar, and a traitor. This Krycek is innocent, he knows nothing, *has* nothing...but touches something so deep in Mulder that he'd forgotten it was even there.

He loves this Krycek.

"What happened to you?" he finally whispers, brow furrowed.

"I don't know," Krycek answers, his own voice still raspy but stronger than it was yesterday. "I woke up on the street with my hands torn up and my voice gone." He holds out his hands and shows Mulder their ragged tips and bruises. "I have no I.D., no money, no anything...but your card was in my boot."

"Why should I believe you?" Mulder's voice is quiet.

"I guess you shouldn't," Krycek answers with a sad shrug, looking away. "But it's the only answer I have for you right now. I'm sorry."

It's quiet again, the only sound in the room the gurgling of the fishtank, then Krycek takes another breath. "I think I should just go," he says, beginning to stand, and Mulder reaches out and stops him with a hand on his arm.

"Don't," he says, pulling Krycek back down. He keeps his hand on the other man's arm as he decides what to say, then with a rush of adrenaline, blurts out, "Did you...do you..." He firms his lips in a frustrated line and he closes his eyes.

"I love you," Krycek says quietly, with such surety that it forces Mulder's eyes open again.

"How..."

"I just know," Krycek shrugs, blinking and looking into Mulder's eyes. "I knew it the minute I met you."

"You mean at the plaza last night?" Mulder asks softly.

"Maybe," Krycek answers just as softly.

"You...hurt me..." Mulder whispers, almost too quietly for Krycek to hear.

"I'm so sorry," Krycek replies, closing his eyes. "I don't know why that happened. I don't know *how* I could have done anything to hurt you." He opens his eyes and stares into Mulder's sad face and sighs deeply. "I'll do anything," he says, taking another breath. "*Anything* to make it up to you. I'll spend the rest of my life doing it," he finishes, eyes closing as they fill with tears. "If you'll let me."

Mulder lets out his breath in a rush. "I don't know about forever," he finally says, again so quietly that Krycek has to open his eyes and even lean in a little to hear him. "But right now, I just want to know *you*, the way you are now, the way I never got to before." He scoots in closer until their thighs are lying alongside one another, then reaches up and takes Krycek's face in his hand, turning it to meet his. "Stay."

"As long as you'll let me," whispers Krycek, then he doesn't get to say more because Mulder's lips are pressing against his, and he makes a small sound of joyful pain and kisses Mulder back. And twenty minutes later when they take their clothes off and climb back into bed, he doesn't know about the puzzling dream he's going to have for the next forty years in that bed, about being in a cold, dark, lonely place and being offered a gift he couldn't refuse by a being from another world.