Towel IV: Inception

"I have seen this before."

Breathe, Mulder. Breathe. "What do you mean?"

"These are the same files you brought to me before, Fox."

I'm gonna pass out. "You're sure." Scully fixes me with a wide blue gaze.

"I cannot guarantee they have not been tampered with, but I can say that everything here is identical to that which I decrypted before."

My eyes flutter closed, and I feel Scully's hand on my shoulder. It feels far away somehow, and there is a rushing in my ears, a wind blowing her words away.

"I'm going to start printing, Albert. We need to be extremely careful, here. I don't want to risk losing this information. We need to put security on this office, Mulder. Mulder?"

I try to answer her. I really do. But I feel so heavy. And the buzzing is so loud.

"Mulder, I think you're...I think he's in shock, Albert," she says, and then I feel warm as a heavy wool blanket is draped over my shoulders. It starts to ground me, to let my blood stop screaming in my ears.

"I'm sorry Scully. What?"

"It's okay, Mulder. I've already put the call in. We're only working through Skinner on this, and he's sending some people from outside the bureau to secure this office while the information's printing. Then maybe we can get the Gunmen to come and see what they can do to make copies of some of or all of it."

I nod, feeling like yes, that needs to happen, but there's something else...

"Alex!" I jump up out of the chair and the blanket falls to the floor. Scully rushes to my side, putting it back up. I shrug it away.

"Mulder, calm down, we'll find him."

I look at her, finally hearing her voice, clear and soothing in my mind. "Mulder, listen. Someone needs to stay here with Albert until Skinner's people get here. I'll stay. You...go find him."

My mind is suddenly clear as two words seem to resonate with haunting familiarity. Find him. Find her. Find him. I nod and squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, thanking her silently for being strong. I try not to run to the rental car parked out in the Arizona sun.

I lean up hard against the cement piling, pulling myself into as small a figure as possible, conserving body heat. There are some men down the beach a little ways huddled around a fire, and though my body feels drawn like a magnet to the warmth, my instincts tell me to keep the stone to my back.

Be careful, Mulder. God, please. Be careful.

He doesn't believe me, so he doesn't know what he's holding. I just hope that he gives me enough benefit of the doubt to treat it as if it is real even if he thinks it might not be.

I start to really think about what I've done, putting that tape in his hands. Jesus. I've made him a target. A walking, oblivious, almost-innocent target.

And then I walked away.

Fuck, fuck fuck! I was so focused on his rejection of me that all I could think of was how much I needed to get away from it. I didn't consider that I was leaving him unprotected. My god, I didn't even stay where I could see him, let alone watch his back! Oh yeah, Mulder. Take me in. I'm really useful.

I rock forward and get to my feet suddenly, the cold now making no more impression on me than the ache in my limbs. I curl my hands into fists and step out of the shadows. I move quickly and purposefully, slinking my way back to his apartment the same way I came.

Sometimes I can't even define what it is, but I get this feeling...just a kind of breathlessness that lets me know there is danger near. It saved me from that car bomb. I'm sure Mulder would love to pick it apart and analyze it. I'm just grateful for it, and I never, ever discount it.

Things are fine. It feels okay. I'm staring up at his window, and it's black. I'm surprised. I would have thought he'd be up all night trying to look at what's on that tape, encrypted or not. My eyes narrow and my gut clenches. I reach around to the back of my waist and feel...nothing. I don't have my gun. I gave it to Mulder.

Okay, maybe it was a powerful gesture, but if you aren't even armed enough to back him up, was it really worth it, you fucking moron? I swear to God, around this man I get stupid. All I have is my blade, a wickedly sharp little four-incher I keep tucked into the custom sheath inside my boot. I slowly slide my hand down and slip the knife out, instantly reassured by its smooth, steel weight in my hand. It's not enough, of course, but it's better than nothing, and I don't feel quite so useless anymore.

Why is it dark? God, have they gotten him already? What the fuck have I done? I skitter around, keeping to the shadows, and get into his building my usual way, through an abandoned storage closet window down in the basement. I hurry up to his apartment, looking and *feeling* for signs of wrong, but I don't find any.

His hall is empty and I make my way to his door, flattening my ear against it and listening. Nothing. Not even a creak. Should I knock? Should I pick the lock again? I squeeze my eyes shut, frowning, trying to make a crucial decision. Finally, I decide that my sense of danger isn't going off, so other than a dark window, I have no reason to suspect foul play, and breaking into Mulder's apartment might really piss him off at this juncture if he's in it trying to sleep. I look around furtively and then raise my twitching hand and knock.

Nothing. No sound at all. No creak, no rustle, no anything. I rap again, a little louder this time, and still there is no reply. My pick is out and tumbling the lock before I have a chance to think about it, and then I'm in.

It's dark and quiet and it feels very empty. I don't make a sound, checking each room for signs of occupation and finding none. The bathroom is last, and it too is dark and silent. I finally release a breath I've been holding since the pick slid into the lock. I have another decision to make.

Wait...or try to find him.

Why the *fuck* did I leave and let him out of my sight? I'm so fucking stupid and useless and worthless! I vow it will *not* happen again and don't let myself think anything except that I will get the chance to keep that vow. I sink down onto the floor, sitting crosslegged, unwilling to use the furniture lest someone be watching through the windows. I decide, finally, that I can't risk exposure by going on a search for him, so my option then is to wait.

And so I wait.

Fucking flight delays! I don't make it back to D.C. until fourteen hours later, and each of those hours twists my stomach a little tighter. All I can think is he's out there. He's out there, and I've got to find him. I'm not sure why this compulsion to find him is *so* strong. Yes, he gave me the one culminating magnum opus of my existence and then walked out unarmed, but all that proves is that this time he's not lying. It doesn't mean next time he won't.

But still...I have to find him. It's all I can think about. I don't let myself wonder why any longer as the cab pulls up in front of my apartment. Four A.M. and the streets are pretty much deserted. I can't help but scan the area, looking extra hard into the shadows, hoping one of them will dislodge from the tree or the wall and step forward. None do. I suppose I really should be worrying about whether I was followed or if my place is safe, since I now have something the smoker would gleefully kill to reacquire. I make my way cautiously through the building to my door and reach forward with my keys to unlock it.

And that's when I realize it's not locked. My heart begins thudding wildly in my chest. I slip Alex's gun from my hip hostler, flipping the safety off. Very slowly, I turn the knob. With a crack, I slam the door open, catching the backswing with my leg, swinging my gun in a wide arc, ready to shoot anything that moves. I'm stepping through the doorway, gun still up and ready to fire, when he steps out of the shadows holding a glittering little blade in a threatening battle stance.

"Alex." It's a breath, and my gun arm drops, and then I realize I just made an automatic assumption that Alex wasn't brandishing that knife at me. I'll examine that later.

"Mulder," Alex sighs. In a move I can't even really track, he flips the knife around, securing it up his sleeve like some amateur magician. He's no amateur, Mulder. Don't be fooled by that old look of innocent wonder.

I flip the safety back on with a slightly trembling hand, not really knowing what to say next now that we have identified one another as *not* the bad guys. He appears to have the same reluctance to speak. He stares at me, fingers twitching as his hands hang at his sides.

Just moments ago, all I could think about was finding this man, and now that I have him, I don't know what to do with him. I rake a hand back through my hair, then turn around and retrieve the duffel bag I dropped when I decided to storm my own apartment.

The sight of him is like water in the desert, and finally my throat opens and I can breathe.

I secure the blade and watch as he turns and retrieves his bag from the hall. Shit, I should have done that. Of course, he probably wouldn't have liked the sudden movement it would have taken to beat him to it, given his complete lack of trust in me. I eye the bag, feeling restless, needing something to do to prove I'm necessary.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is quiet, void of inflection.

Good question. What am I doing here? Waiting for you, hoping you aren't dead, kicking myself for letting you out of my sight. I'm not sure what answer I can even give that will make sense and not make him freak out.

"Are you here..." He stops and starts again. "Did you need somewhere to stay?"

Hah! He thinks I'm here for my own safety! God, what a waste of effort that would be. No, Mulder. I may be stupid but I know silk from a sow's ear.

"It's okay, Alex. You can stay here...for now," he says, carrying his duffel bag into his bedroom and tossing it on the bed. He comes back out, and I notice the red in his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks. He rubs his hand through his hair and looks at me. "I'm thirsty. You want something?"

I have not eaten any of his food, not feeling it was my right to do so, so all I've had are the protein bars I always carry with me. It's been days since I had a meal.

"Yeah," I croak out, my voice rusty from disuse. "Please." I duck my head as I say it, the gesture well-trained and automatic.

Mulder nods and walks into the kitchen, flipping on the light and rummaging in his fridge. I stand and wait for him, and he comes back into the living room and stops, an odd look on his face.

"You can sit down, Alex," he says, gesturing to his couch with a soda can.

Wordlessly I step around the coffee table and sink into the leather, breathing slowly. He eyes me a moment and then walks over and extends a can to me, then comes around behind the table and sits next to me, settling in with a deep sigh. He takes a long drink of his soda, and I watch him for a moment, and when he's done, I take a sip of mine.

"Um, I'm not sure what to say here, Alex," he says, his eyes glancing sideways at me and then away again. He sighs again and I'm at a loss. "The tape appears to be the real thing," he continues, stretching his neck. I hear a vertebra pop and my hands clutch, wanting to massage away his pains. "So," he continues, taking another drink. "What do we do now?"

"Whatever you want to, Mulder," I answer without hesitation, meaning it every way I can. He really does look over at me then, turning his head and fixing me with that gaze of his.

"The tape is being decrypted," he says, not taking his eyes off me. I can't help but widen my eyes a bit at this, knowing how difficult I found it to extract any usable information from it. I feel justified in my choice of masters at this proof of his superior abilities and can't help but smile very faintly. To my utter surprise, his lips move just slightly in an answering smile.

"I...I guess we should get back out there, and then figure out what the hell we're going to do next." Mulder leans back into the couch, appearing to relax as he drinks down another long swallow of soda. I drink from my own can without looking away.

He looks over at me again, and his brow furrows. "Are you going to say anything?"

My lips part immediately, brain trying to choose something I think he'd want to hear. "They think I have the tape, and that I will expose them if they come near me."

He nods, pursing his lips.

"We're safe," I go on, heartened by his positive response, "until we do something to call attention to ourselves."

He nods again and sighs quietly. "We'll have to be really careful with this, won't we? This isn't information we can just put into use as soon as we decrypt it, is it?"

I'm not used to my master asking my opinion, so it shakes my concentration for a second, until I remind myself I am a source of information for him and it's my job to answer.

"No, it isn't," I say quietly. "There are secrets on that tape that could change the very fabric of our civilization."

I watch his lips part as I reveal this, and I'm proud of being such a valuable source of information for him, but also chagrined at being the harbinger of something so frightening.

"We're going to need your help on this, aren't we," he says very quietly, looking away and fiddling with his soda can.

"I'm yours," I say without hesitation, sitting up a little straighter, ready to be of use. I'm confused when his lips quirk up in a half smile as he turns to look at me again.

Oh. His eyes are darkening, his breaths quickening. Yes, Mulder. That, too, is yours. Always has been, even when I bowed to another master. I slide to the floor in a single, boneless movement, settling in on my knees before him, head bowed, hands behind me. It feels so good. I sigh deeply.

"What are you doing?" He sounds confused.

I don't look up. "I'm yours," I repeat, hoping he wants to hear it.

"Alex..." A note of displeasure hovers in his voice. I look up.

"Please, Muh...please. I just want to be yours." Fuck, I almost screwed up and used his name, which he told me not to do when we're like this. I'd screwed it up before and was surprised when I didn't incur his wrath for it. I swore not to mess that up again. I look back down at the floor, hoping I haven't upset him by the partial utterance.

Then his hand comes down on my head, so warm and heavy, like poured honey, and I sag forward, my body sighing.

"God, Alex," Mulder sighs. "You're so beautiful like this."

The tears prick at my eyes. Whatever I've done is good, because he's said it again, and my world is right. I lean forward more, daring to lay my forehead against his knee.

"Please let me make you feel good."

The gasp I hear above me turns my cock to iron instantly. My body twitches at his feet.

"Yes, Alex," he says, his low voice a silky rumble. "Make me feel good."

I sigh and raise up on my knees, leaning forward, careful not to displace his hands on my head as I move in toward his groin. I can see that he is also very hard beneath his suit pants, and I can't help but nuzzle against it like a cat, breathing deeply of his scent.

God, it's so good. So unbelievably right. I've never enjoyed serving anyone as much as I do him. The very smell of him gets me hard. Always has. I nudge his cock through the fabric of his pants and revel in his sharp intake of breath. I speak against the hard shaft, letting my words vibrate against his flesh. "May I use my hands?"

"Oh yes, Alex, yes," he answers in a breath, stroking his hand through my hair. I shudder against his legs. "Touch me."

I groan and bring my hands around in front, working gently at the belt and button on his pants. I carefully unzip them, letting his erection push through, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton knit. I put my mouth against the cloth and moan, mouthing him as I work his pants down his hips.

"God, yes, Alex," he says breathlessly, and the sound makes my body flash with heat even as I wait for something else. I need to try harder, I decide, and give more.

He lifts his hips to make it easier for me, and I slide his pants and boxer-briefs down his thighs, revealing his gorgeous, strong, dusky-pink erection. It beckons me with a pearl of precum at the tip. I feel the drool begin to collect under my tongue and groan. Then I stop, inhaling quickly, realizing that I don't know if he wants to hear these sounds from me or not. If I'm to earn what I need, I'm going to have to be more aware of his preferences.

"What is it?" he breathes, stroking through my hair again. "What's wrong?"

I blink and look up at him, struggling to understand the question.

"I heard you, Alex. You hesitated. Are you okay?"

I close my eyes, letting a shudder work its way through my body at the concern in his voice. "I don't want to...to focus on my own needs," I stammer, not knowing how to explain. "My need to...voice my pleasure," I finish in a small voice.

"Jesus Christ, Alex, the sounds you make go straight to my cock," he replies, and his words go straight to mine. "Make the noises for God's sake. You have my permanent permission on that one, got it?" He's smiling gently at me now, and I grin back, happy to have made him happy. Then I lower my head and moan as I take him all the way down my throat in one hard, wet lunge.

He cries out, his hips rising off the couch, shoving himself deeper. I groan my encouragement, moving my head up and down, pulling his hips a little to give him the cue. Fuck my throat, Mulder. Make it yours. Use me and make it hurt. Please.

His grip on my hair tightens, both hands pulling hard, and I moan against his flesh in my mouth, voicing my enjoyment, begging wordlessly. As his hips begin small, aborted thrusts, I groan loud and deep, signaling him that yes, this is what I want. This feels right. It's good.

"Oh fuck," he gasps, and I'm disappointed that I still don't hear it, so I work myself harder, tongue rubbing fiercely against him. I stroke my hands up under his shirt, remembering how he enjoyed my attentions there before.

To my surprise, I feel one of my hands being grabbed, as the grip on my hair becomes one sided. Mulder presses my hand into the leather at his side, our fingers entwined. I slide the other up his chest blindly, and when my nail scrapes gently over his hard nipple, he thrusts up into my throat deeply. I sob, willing him to continue. My nail scrapes, then my finger strokes, then my nail scrapes again, and finally he's gripping my head and fucking my face hard, his mouth open and emitting a series of cries that turn my body, all but my dick, to liquid heat. His hand squeezes mine, hot and sweaty at our sides.

"Gonna...come....down your throat...Alex..." I nearly come against his leg then, but I hold myself back successfully.

Then I hear his low growl.

"Mine."

I sob and growl against his flesh and feel him begin to pulse and shoot his cum. I quickly draw back so that it doesn't all go down my throat untasted, and as he continues to pulse and spurt, I suck and slurp and lick it all up, memorizing his taste, humming as it takes over my senses.

He falls back against the cushions with a shuddering gasp, and I gently lave away the last traces of his cum. I lick and kiss his thighs, settling my head there with a sigh. The fingers of one hand stroke through my hair, and I can't control the shivers that wrack my body. I ignore the persistent, throbbing ache in my dick. He lets go of my hand, and I feel his palm against my cheek. He raises my face and I open my eyes.

"MMmmgood," he hums, smiling that heavy-lidded, well- sated smile at me. I sigh and smile back, trying to forget the small nagging hurt.

His smile fades. "What is it, Alex? You know I'm going to take care of you, too."

Damn. I'm usually very good at hiding my emotions, not letting them show on my face, but I'm so completely undone by Mulder that I can't concentrate. "I'm sorry," I murmur, trying to lower my head.

He holds it in place, frowning. "For what?"

"I've...disappointed you," I answer, my throat constricting.

"What? Oh, Alex, I can assure you that is not the case." He smiles at me reassuringly, but I can only stare, willing the tears not to well up.

"If I was better, you would...I would earn the...I would be your..." I can't say it. My eyes squeeze shut, my mouth pressing closed, frustrated. I don't deserve it. It's not mine to ask.

"Oh, pet!"

My whole body falls forward, and the tears I've been holding back trickle out from beneath my lashes. I'm ashamed at my weakness and not a little bit shocked. I've never craved anyone's approval like this. No master's ever made me feel so...cherished. It's a gift I never thought I'd get, and now I'll do anything to keep it.

"Pet, pet, you're beautiful," he says, and it's almost too much, to hear it all at once. I might break down completely, and I don't want to do that, not here, not in front of this man.

"I was tired, and you were so good, and I just...I wasn't thinking," he says, stroking my hair as I nuzzle into his groin, hiding my tears, trying desperately not to sob. "Please...can we talk about this?"

I swallow back my tears, cursing myself for being so fucking weak, and raise my face, flushed with shame at my childish display. Mulder looks at me with a look of wonder and confusion, and then his thumbs are gently wiping the tracks of my tears from my cheeks.

"I won't forget again, pet," he says, his thumbs now moving very softly over my lashes, brushing the wetness from them. I struggle not to close my eyes, blinking.

"Between us, like this, you're my pet," he continues, his voice calm and sure. I want to weep at how it feels, to hear him say I'm his.

"But we're going to need everything you've got when we're working together," he continues, his eyes narrowing. "I don't want you serving me. I want you at my side, not at my feet. So when we're working, you're Alex, okay?" He smiles and I feel my chest squeeze at hearing him casually use the word 'together'. I close my eyes and nod, and then decide to take a risk.

"I...what should I call you?" I croak out, afraid of losing this precious moment of surety.

His lips part, brows arching. Then his eyes narrow as if he is considering this very carefully.

"Alex," he begins, and I straighten a little, recognizing that we are somewhere else now. "I love it when you give this to me. I think I need it as much as I think you need to give it. And your gift is so pure and complete that I feel safe..." He looks away for a moment, and I'm horrified to see tears sparkling in his dark eyes. I know I put them there. Not all of them, but some. He blinks to clear them and looks back at me. "I feel safe in this place, Alex, and so I want you to call me a name which has never made me feel safe. Call me Fox."

I can't help the surprised gasp that leaves my lips.

"Fox needs this, Alex," he says softly. "Needs his pet."

And then I understand. I nod, feeling shame again, knowing that he will never feel safe with Alex. Pet can make some of the pain in his eyes fade, if only for a short time.

"And when you need...this," he says softly, "you can call me Fox, but let no one else hear you."

I smile again. He seems to see inside my soul and understand everything so completely. "Okay."

"And when I need it, I'll call you pet, and no one else will ever hear that, either." His eyes are intense, and my smile fades, washed away by the gravity of his vulnerability.

I nod. "Yes." We look at each other for a few more moments, sealing the pact between us. Then he pulls his hands from my face, placing them at his sides. He looks at me expectantly. Oh. He's asking me.

I have to smile again, and I raise myself up, unfolding into a standing position, stretching my back, popping my knees and rolling my head, loosening tight neck muscles. "Do you have any food in this place, Mulder?" Yes, I'm horny, but damn, I'm hungry.

Mulder grins up at me and works his underwear and pants back up his hips. "Food being a subjective term, I think I have some," he answers, zipping up and pushing off the couch as I step back, getting out of his way.

Together we walk into the kitchen, and as he pulls multiple cartons of very old leftover Chinese food out of the fridge, I wonder just how hungry I'd have to be to eat it. He turns around and finds me frowning at it.

"Yeah, guess it is pretty rank," he says, tossing it into the garbage can. "I have soup," he says hopefully, reaching up in the cupboards. My stomach growls loudly, letting us both know that soup will do very nicely, thank you.

"Can you please hand me another of those sodas?" I ask, gesturing to the fridge, and he grabs one and hands it back. I drain it, finally giving in to the thirst and hunger I've been working to sublimate for days.

This arrangement is...different. I'm used to going from bottom to top, but never with the same man. It's usually a matter of who I'm with, not what we're doing. This is going to take some getting used to. I like it, though. In fact, I love it. I get to have Mulder both of the ways I need him most.

He makes me soup, and I inhale it so quickly he makes me some more. When that's gone, and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna keep it down, we both yawn hugely at the same time, our exhaustion catching up with us as the sun climbs the morning sky.

I eye the couch, wondering where Mulder might keep an extra blanket. I raise my head to ask him and see him looking at me with a softness in his eyes.

"Come to bed, pet."