Alex had given Mulder a week to find him, but it had only taken him three
days, wouldn't have taken that long except that he'd had to make a quick
trip out of town to clear up some loose ends on a case. Once he'd gotten
Alex's telephone number from his own phone records, the address was easy
enough to track down. Just to be difficult, Mulder had waited another two
days to come here. It was also very convenient that he'd come on Friday
night, and he didn't have to work the next day.
Mulder raised his hand to knock then lowered it again, assailed by doubts
from all sides. He was unsure if going forward was really the best thing
for either of them. It couldn't possibly help his career any to get
involved with a man who had done the things that Krycek had been accused of
or suspected of doing. Mulder was even more worried about the things Krycek
had done that they didn't suspect him of— the things he'd gotten away
with doing. And then there were those crimes Krycek claimed not to have
committed. Mulder wanted to believe him, but the man had told the truth so
selectively that his credibility was strained, to say the least.
Remembering the key that Alex had left for him, Mulder pulled it from his
pocket and turned it over in his fingers. Why was he balking now? He'd let
Alex into his home and into his bed. Why was it so hard for him to just put
the key in the lock and turn it? He sighed and stuck his hand back in his
pocket, key still gripped tightly between his fingers. He had to wonder
just how he'd gotten to this point of indecision that was really unlike him.
On Sunday morning, it had seemed a simple plan— find Alex, fuck Alex, let
Alex fuck him— lather, rinse, repeat. What could be simpler? Maybe it was
too simple? The man had challenged Mulder to find him yet made it
pathetically easy to do so, and that was a puzzle in itself. As far as
mindfuckery went, this one didn't even rate an honorable mention. So why
did he even bother?
A door down the hall opened, and a young woman came storming out into the
hall followed by a wave of shouted curses from a masculine voice that
sounded more petulant than dangerous. Raising his hand as if he were about
to knock, Mulder gave her a slight smile, but the woman just snarled at him
as she stalked past. He watched her until she had disappeared into the
elevator, then returned his hand to his pocket. After checking out the
other apartments for open doors or any other activity, he returned to his
blind contemplation of the door in front of him.
Alex Krycek could be behind that door... or not. Mulder suddenly felt like
he was stuck in an episode of "Let's Make a Deal", and half his brain was
urging him to pick door number one and the other was screaming for him to
choose the box. If he chose the freedom of getting back on the elevator and
going home, he might be losing a fabulous prize. Choosing the door, on the
other hand, may be a mistake from which he'd never recover. What did he
expect from this relationship? A house with a white picket fence and Alex
playing Mr. Mom to their adopted war orphan children? Not even if hell
froze over. Mulder suppressed a shudder, although the thought of Alex in a
frilly apron scrubbing the kitchen floor sent a surprising thrill of lust
through him. Maybe not so surprising since in Mulder's mind the apron was
all Alex wore and he was on his knees with the scrubbing motions doing
lovely and interesting things to the long muscles of his back and the round
tautness of his...
Shaking off the distracting image, Mulder adjusted his jeans over his rising
erection and tried to think of something less arousing— like what could
happen if his relationship with Alex was found out. While he didn't think
it would actually get him killed, he couldn't be so sure of Alex's safety.
In one of their recent conversations, Alex had implied that he was quite
high up in whatever remained of the organization now, but Mulder had to
wonder just how much actual power the other man had.
The thought of Alex's "job" led his thoughts back to his own career, if his
crusade could be called a career anymore. It's not like he had much use for
the FBI as anything more than a means to an end. And they certainly didn't
have much use for him either, a fact to which he had grown accustomed and
most of the time appreciated. When they left him alone, he could go on
about his business without all the B.S. of bureau politics. He was not
really interested in rising through the ranks. Just leave me in the
basement doing my thing in relative peace.
"This is ridiculous," Mulder muttered under his breath. He had to do
something, instead of just standing here staring at a door that wasn't
giving up any secrets. He raised his hand slowly to knock, and then decided
to take Alex up on his offer. Taking his gun from the holster clipped into
the back of his jeans, he slipped the key into the deadbolt and turned it
with a barely audible click. The doorknob turned easily under his hand, and
he shook his head in dismay. He'd expected it to be much more difficult
than this. His nerves were singing with tension and warning. He gripped
the gun tightly and held his body off to one side as he pushed the door
open. Nothing happened, so he chanced a look around the frame. The door
opened directly into the living room, which seemed deserted.
After listening intently for a few minutes, Mulder determined that the
apartment was probably as empty as it seemed, so he went inside and shut the
door. The living room was spacious and very neat. One wall held a wide
entertainment center with a variety of electronics—stereo, TV, a couple of
VCRs, DVD player, and what appeared to be video editing equipment. One
shelf held several movies of different genres, and two other shelves were
filled with videotapes that had only a number or were unlabeled altogether.
The opposite wall held an overstuffed sofa of creamy leather that made
Mulder's own couch look like a garage sale reject. The third wall had a
large window covered in both mini-blinds and snowy white draperies and
flanked by tall, matching wood bookcases.
In the corner between the sofa and one of the bookcases, sat a large easy
chair in gold crushed velvet under a floor lamp tilted at the perfect angle
for reading. Resembling something one might find in a brothel, the chair
should have looked tacky, but for some reason didn't. It fit in with the
rest of the room, and spoke strongly of Alex's love of creature comforts as
did the plush charcoal carpet, so soft and thick that Mulder's toes curled
inside his sneakers, silently begging to be released. He shook his head and
wandered into the dining alcove which held only a computer desk and chair.
The desk seemed to hold every peripheral known to man, and a few that he'd
only seen in the Lone Gunmen's lair.
The kitchen was next and it looked like most other apartment kitchens. All
the surfaces were very clean, even the kitchen table. There were no piles
of junk mail or unpaid bills lying around. There were no knick-knacks of
any kind sitting out, not even a salt shaker. The room had a complete lack
of personality, which puzzled Mulder until he walked down the short hall and
into the bedroom.
Stopping in the doorway, Mulder stared into the room and every rational
thought fled his mind. The brass bed was huge, a rippling cerulean ocean
piled with pillows in a series of shades from palest sky blue to deepest
indigo. The dresser and two nightstands were antique walnut that gleamed as
if from a fresh waxing. He poked through a few randomly chosen drawers,
finding the usual stuff in the dresser. In the nightstand, he found a box
of condoms, two bottles of lubricant, and a Les Baer .45 that was worth
roughly three times more than his Sig.
Behind the same white draperies as those in the living room, French doors
opened onto a small balcony. Mulder checked out the view from the windows—
a small duck pond and another apartment building identical to this one.
On the wall opposite the French doors, double doors opened to reveal a
closet half full of clothes ranging from a very expensive designer tuxedo to
some scruffy army fatigues with no insignia. Mulder felt sure that if he
searched through the boxes on the top shelf he'd find a wealth of insignia
of different nationalities and ranks. The rows of shoes and boots on the
floor also ran the gamut of fashion and function—the most intriguing being
a pair of size thirteen spike heeled pumps in 'fuck me' red. Mulder took
note of those for future reference, then replaced them in their box and went
back out into the hallway.
Checking out the bathroom, which was as clean and impersonal as the rest of
the place, he decided to use the facilities before trying to hack into
Krycek's computer. He'd washed his hands and was drying them on a sinfully
fluffy white towel, when he heard the front door open almost soundlessly.
He stepped into the hall in time to see Alex slink into the apartment
carrying a couple of plastic grocery bags in one hand and a compact Glock
nine millimeter in the other.
Tucking the gun back into his shoulder holster, Alex smiled and said, "Hey,
Mulder. What took you so long?"
Mulder moved closer and tried to pretend he was caught in other people's
homes everyday. "Oh, well, I've been busy. You know, same old-same old.
Where've you been?"
Alex held up the bags and stated the obvious, "Shopping."
Mulder chuckled, more from nervousness than amusement. "Surely Alex Krycek
doesn't do anything as mundane as shopping."
"He does if he needs groceries." Alex hung up his jacket and headed for the
kitchen.
Mulder followed close behind, noting that Alex looked really good dressed so
casually. His well-worn jeans did nice things for his long legs and firm
ass, and the faded black T-shirt made him look younger and almost carefree,
until Mulder really looked at the shirt. It read "HARD CORE LOGO"—an
advertisement for a rock group or a movie, Mulder figured. The interesting
thing was how the "A" was printed in blood red and circled, reminding him of
a target in the middle of Alex's chest. He wondered if that's why Alex wore
it—as a challenging "fuck you" to his enemies. The man was just contrary
enough to do it.
Watching in silence as Alex put his groceries away while humming tunelessly
under his breath, Mulder wanted to say something—anything to break the
awful tension that seemed to grow with every tick of the clock. He didn't
know what to say, because just being in Alex's home was odd and overwhelming
enough.
"So... what have you been up to this week?"
"Which version of the truth do you want? The one I give the IRS on my tax
returns?"
"Yeah, right, like you actually pay taxes."
"Fox, they brought down Al Capone. Even I won't fuck with the IRS."
Pulling a bottle of vodka out of the freezer, he turned and asked "Would you
like a drink?"
"Do I need one?" Mulder bit back a smile as he asked the question.
"I dunno." Alex took a couple of crystal highball glasses out of a cabinet
and glanced over his shoulder. "You're not going to try to arrest me, are
you?"
"No, no outstanding warrants. I checked." Mulder did smile then. He
couldn't believe the little bubble of happiness that settled in his chest.
Where had that come from? "But I'm interested in what you tell the IRS."
Motioning Mulder to take a seat at the table, Alex poured their drinks and
sat down himself. He took a long sip and explained, "To the Internal
Revenue Service, I'm a freelance computer consultant. System
troubleshooter, webpage builder—I do a little of everything and I have
receipts and documentation for all of it. Now if on occasion, my consulting
takes me into a dangerous situation which requires that I discharge my
weapon into a certain individual's head a few times, well, the IRS doesn't
really need to know about that, do they? And neither does the FBI and it
didn't happen anyway."
Mulder took a sip of the icy cold vodka, noting the twinkle in Alex's eyes
as he tilted his glass and slammed the liquor back. "And who did this not
happen to?"
"Some prick named Dexter. It was nothing. It didn't happen. Who names
their kid Dexter anyway?"
"I'm in no position to judge anyone's name." Mulder finished his drink and
held out his glass for a refill. He felt like he'd probably need it.
"I don't get that either. Fox is a perfectly good name. It suits you in a
way. Foxes are cunning creatures. They can survive almost anywhere— did
you know that? Even in the middle of the city. They're also sleek,
beautiful animals."
"Shut up." Mulder turned his head and rubbed his fingers over his mouth.
He could still taste Alex's kiss, had thought about it at the most
inopportune moments. Poor Scully had probably thought he was having a
stroke when she'd caught him staring into space, not hearing a word she
said. He did that occasionally when he was turning a problem over in his
mind, but not for such an extended period when they didn't have a
particularly pressing case in front of them.
Concentrating on the minutiae of everyday life was becoming increasingly
difficult when the memories of such inappropriate actions filled his mind.
He had no business getting involved with Alex Krycek, but no matter how many
times he told himself that, the warnings didn't take. He was here in the
man's apartment and that signaled involvement to Mulder— or insanity. He
wasn't quite ready to give up the insanity defense entirely.
Then, of course, there was his kiss. Alex turned him inside out with just
one kiss, whether soft and shallow or deep and intense. The warmth of silky
lips pressed against his, the firm-soft tongue stroking gently or
frantically, the reckless scrape of sharp, straight teeth. Mulder even
enjoyed the faint scratch of late night whiskers.
For the last three nights, he had dreamed of tender hands cupping his face,
holding him in place for a soul-stealing kiss. A kiss that, cliched as it
may sound, he could feel all the way to his toes. He dreamed of long wet
kisses that lasted for days and made him come from the force of them alone.
He'd woken from the dreams on the verge of orgasm, and just a single
masturbatory moment left him gasping and wrecked, unable to go back to sleep
despite the physical release.
Now here he was in the lion's den, ground zero, point of no return... Alex's
apartment. Realizing he'd been silent for several minutes, he glanced
across the table at Alex, whose eyes sparkled with amusement as he lifted
his refilled glass for a drink. Mulder ignored the glint of humor and
focused on the lips slightly pursing against the rim of the glass, the hint
of pink tongue darting out to catch a preliminary taste of the clear liquor.
As warmth suffused him, Mulder wondered if Alex did it on purpose, this
sensual teasing that seemed so effortless. Of course, he does. Every
move is calculated for maximum effect. Mulder thought suddenly, half
amused and half angry, at both Alex's manipulation and his own
susceptibility to the other man's machinations.
The anger was easier to squash than it used to be. All Mulder had to do was
look into the unexpectedly open expression on that handsome face and the
anger drained away— with lust and guilt taking its place. The guilt fit
like a well-worn sweater, barely even noticeable except for the ease with
which it settled over his shoulders. The lust, on the other hand, would not
be so easily ignored, and that was fine because Alex was here and ready to
return the feeling.
"So... We gonna sit here and stare at each other all night?"
"I could do it," Mulder muttered with a slight smile.
Alex laughed out loud, and said, "You must be drunk or really, really
bored."
"Nope, neither."
"You're gonna make me blush, Fox-don't-call-me-that."
"I'd rather make you scream."
"Think you can?"
"I'd like to give it a try."
"What would you do? How would you make me scream?"
"Well... I could always hit you— that's always good for a squeal at the
very least."
"I don't squeal— a manly grunt perhaps... Anyway, I thought you were
over that, thought we were past it."
"Yeah, you're right, and I'd hate to get blood on such a nice carpet."
"Got any other ideas?"
Mulder nodded as he stood and circled the table. Alex shoved his chair back
but before he could stand, Mulder planted a hand in the middle of his chest
to hold him down. Spreading his legs wide, Mulder straddled the chair and
lowered himself onto Alex's lap, bringing his mouth down to Alex's surprised
smile.
Threading his fingers through Alex's silky hair, Mulder licked around the
edges of that smile before parting Alex's lips with his own and kissing him
slowly and deeply. As Alex began to kiss back, Mulder felt that peculiar
twisting feeling deep in his gut that was becoming so familiar to him in the
presence of this man. It felt as if he was being rearranged from the inside
out and nothing would ever be the same again. The sensation bordered on
painful, but there was also a feeling that however he ended up would be how
he was meant to be. And yet, he couldn't see any happy endings for Alex and
him.
If this relationship were to continue, he'd have to learn to live in the
moment. He could do that. If Alex kept kissing him like this, he could do
it very easily.
His body burning for more contact, Mulder settled his butt back onto Alex's
thighs and worked his hands in between their bodies, unbuttoning the fly of
Alex's tight blue jeans. He pushed the T-shirt up with the tips of his
fingers, skimming over the flat belly. Mmm, look who's been working out.
He thought, but didn't pull his mouth off of Alex's long enough to
comment, as his fingers continued their journey over the pectorals to tweak
the firm little nipples. He gave them a squeeze, evoking a startled groan
from the back of Alex's throat.
Alex let go of Mulder's mouth, nipping at his chin as he curved his hands
around Mulder's ass, pulling their erections together to bump and grind in a
heated dance. Mulder moaned and shoved the T-shirt higher until it got hung
up on the shoulder holster that Alex hadn't removed. Hips bucking into
Alex's, Mulder stripped the holster and shirt off, absently dumping them on
the table as he captured Alex's mouth for another kiss.
Mulder had just taken Alex's heated erection from his underwear and was
beginning to stroke it when the telephone rang. He wrenched his mouth from
Alex's and said, "Ignore it."
"I'd love to, but I can't..." Alex groaned as Mulder bit into his neck, but
he lifted the other man from his lap anyway. Leaning against the kitchen
counter, cock jutting from his open jeans, Alex answered the insistent ring
rather breathlessly, "Yes? Oh, hey, Cam."
With an evil grin, Mulder dropped to his knees and pulled Alex's pants all
the way down. Holding the base of Alex's cock with caressing fingers, he
placed his lips against the tip and gently sucked it into his mouth.
"Fuck! Um, yeah, I meant to call, but I've...mm... been busy. You know how
it is... Um, could you hold on a minute?" Alex put his hand over the
mouthpiece of the phone and hissed, "Stop it, Fox."
Nodding his head, Mulder slid his lips along Alex's shaft then pulled off
with a soft pop. Petting Alex's wet swollen cock soothingly, Mulder waited
until his lover had turned his attention back to his phone call.
"No, I'm okay. I just got a little distracted. What were you saying?"
Alex listened for a moment, and then laughed, "Yeah, that's good."
Mulder leaned in and swallowed Alex to the root, surprising a yelp out of
him. He sucked hard on the throbbing flesh, hands wrapped around Alex's
hips, fingers digging into the curves of his ass. Mulder worked him until
Alex was nearly incoherent, the phone slipping from his hand to land on the
counter with a thud.
"Fffff-Fox!"
Mulder pulled back far enough to ask, "Want me to stop?"
"Hell, no!" Alex's eyes slipped closed as he grappled for the phone,
finally dragging it up to his face and gasping, "Cam, I'll have to call you
back." He fumbled the phone back into its base and put his hands on
Mulder's head, rough fingers raking through his hair none too gently, urging
him to finish what he'd started.
Shaking Alex's hands loose, Mulder settled back and conversationally asked,
"Who was on the phone?"
"What?" Alex shook his head as if trying to catch up. "It was a friend—
no big deal. He'll understand. Now, get back to what you were doing."
"He'll understand? You're going to tell him why you couldn't talk?"
Mulder didn't know whether to believe it or not, but he thought Alex
probably would do it.
"Maybe. Now finish what you started." Alex was sweating and he had a
white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counters. His blood-flushed cock
shone with pre-ejaculate and Mulder's saliva, creating a very pretty picture
to Mulder's eye.
Raising one eyebrow in challenge, Mulder said, "Beg."
"What?" Alex stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns. "You're
the one on his knees, buddy, not me."
Before the other man could lock them, Mulder grinned and grabbed Alex's
knees, pulling abruptly to bring him to the floor. Because of Mulder's
position in front of him and the cabinets behind him, Alex ended up with his
feet sticking out at awkward angles and the front of his body plastered to
the front of Mulder's. Nipping sharply at Alex's lower lip, Mulder looked
into eyes dark with passion and wide with confusion, saying once again,
"Beg. Beg me to suck you off, Alex."
"Fox...Mulder... would...youpleasesuckmeoff?"
"Come on, you can do better than that." Mulder held back a laugh, feeling a
little cruel but enjoying it immensely. He slipped his hand between their
bodies and briefly stroked Alex's erection to give him added incentive.
Mulder could hear Alex swallow hard as his eyes closed, then they opened and
he said slowly and precisely, "Fox, please suck me off. I want to feel your
sexy lips around my cock, and your hot wet tongue licking me until I come
down your beautiful throat. Please?"
"You want all that, huh?" Mulder gave Alex's cock a slow stroke from base
to head.
"I want it." Alex caught Mulder in a hard kiss. "I want it bad. Suck me."
"Okay, but not here. Let's go to your bedroom." Mulder slowly rose to his
feet, wincing at the creaking in his knees. "Really, Alex, we're much too
old to be playing on hard kitchen floors. What were you thinking?"
Alex snorted and rolled his eyes as he got to his feet, holding his jeans up
with one hand. He walked out of his kitchen without a backward look.
After a moment, Mulder followed, heart pounding in anticipation. He stepped
into Alex's room to find the covers folded back neatly, and Alex seated on
the side of the bed removing his boots and socks. He looked so beautiful
and unconcernedly sexy that Mulder stopped in the doorway and just stared at
him.
"I find my willingness to follow you quite disturbing," Mulder said quietly,
feeling his brow furrow in the beginnings of a frown. "I should..."
Alex set aside his boots and smiled slightly. "Should what?"
"Know better." Mulder shrugged. "But it doesn't seem to matter right now.
I just want you. Scully, the Bureau, and our past all seem very far away. I
guess I'm still having trouble with this thing between us. It can't be
right."
Alex stood up and crossed the room. He stopped a couple of feet from
Mulder, and said with apparent earnestness, "Why does it have to be? Why
should it be right or wrong? It is what it is. Just let it be."
"That sounds a little too simple. Like a cop-out." Mulder crossed his arms
over his chest, and wondered why he'd brought this up now.
"Okay, look at it this way... You and I lead very dangerous lives, right?
How many times have you been in mortal danger? A gun to the head, a knife
to the throat, an alien retro-virus in your veins... Mulder, you've been in
more quarantines than anybody I've ever heard of—besides Scully, of
course."
Mulder tilted his head to acknowledge the truth of the statement, but
impatience crept into his voice as he replied, "And your point would be...?"
Alex shook his head, but when he spoke his eyes glowed with the fervor of a
TV preacher. "My point is that you can have all these experiences—live on
the very edge every day—and have one of two reactions. You can withdraw
into yourself and live in fear, which would make your life really pathetic
and put you in more danger than you already face. Or you can realize how
fragile life is and wring every last drop of enjoyment out of it before it
breaks."
"So...I should just ignore the danger of being involved with you and take
whatever you can give me between whatever schemes and scams you have going?"
Mulder raised an eyebrow and waited for an answer, watching Alex with a new
appreciation for his ability to explain away anything—any fear, any doubt,
any feeling.
"Well, when you put it that way... But essentially, that's what I'm
saying."
"What do I get out of this?"
"You get me." Alex grinned as if this should obviously be enough for
anyone.
Although Mulder thought that having Alex should be plenty, he had to ask,
"What are you going to do? Quit playing both sides and settle on the side
of the angels?" If there even is such a thing in this twisted wreckage
of aliens, conspiracies, rebels, colonization, and betrayals...
Alex laughed sharply, and cracked, "I've always been on the side of the
angels, Mulder. Keeping myself alive is the most righteous path I could
be on. We've never really been too far apart in our philosophies about
world domination and alien takeovers— mine just has a more personal bent.
While you seem to have no sense of self-preservation at times, my own can be
too strong causing me to lose sight of the big picture, although, granted,
that doesn't happen very often. And your obsessions can blind you the same
way. See? We could actually be good for each other. Because this thing is
all about the big picture. It's not about your sister, Scully's
abduction, a missing alien fetus, dead Spenders, or my carrying an alien
halfway around the world and getting locked in a fucking missile silo for my
trouble— those are just small pieces of the puzzle."
Dropping his gaze to the floor, Mulder silently turned over in his mind
everything that Alex had just said. His body was urging him to believe, but
that self-preservation that Alex didn't think he had was telling him to
think about what he was doing. Bare feet moved into his field of vision and
Mulder was struck by how vulnerable they looked. Maybe Alex was offering
him more than he'd realized. Alex had said he "loved" him, but what did
that mean? Mulder loved Scully, but he didn't want to have sex with her.
And he'd had sex with people he hadn't loved. So what did it mean to Alex
to say those words or, more accurately, to have them pulled from him in a
moment of drunken weakness? Mulder couldn't be sure, and wondered if he'd
ever be inspired to return those words—drunkenly or not.
Gentle hands raised Mulder's face and warm lips settled over his, scattering
his thoughts and replacing them with just one word— more. This is what
had brought him here in the first place— Alex's kiss. And all that went
along with it— his touch, his taste, his body, his passion, and his
quicksilver personality.
Mulder closed his eyes and opened his mouth— not to speak but to return the
kiss, to give more... to take more. He sank into the kiss, hoping to find
something there to let him know he was doing the right thing.
After several breathless moments, Alex pulled back and whispered against his
swollen lips, "Don't think, Fox. Just feel."
"Mmm, I feel something..." Mulder murmured as he shifted into Alex's body,
moving his thigh between Alex's. The other man was hard—whether again or
still, Mulder didn't know, but his own cock was rising to meet its mate. He
licked at Alex's lips and rubbed against his body, touching anywhere he
could reach.
After several moments of just kissing and rubbing against each other, Mulder
was starting to feel a bit like a teenager afraid to go any further, but
desperately wanting to do so. Alex must have felt his hesitation because he
soon took control, removing Mulder's clothes and pushing him toward the bed.
Mulder followed willingly yet again, but this time he was too preoccupied
with the physical sensations to give much thought to emotional questions or
doubts.
When they were both naked and unbearably aroused, Alex lowered Mulder to the
bed and whispered, "You can give me what you owe me later...when I'm done
with you."
Mulder was about to ask what he meant when Alex went down on him, and all
powers of speech seemed to flee him. The wet heat engulfing his cock warmed
him from the inside out, made him feel both excited and relaxed at the same
time. Settling back into the soft surface of the bed, Mulder closed his
eyes and just...felt. Alex's tongue fluttered around the ridge and over the
head, making Mulder lift his hips in Alex's grasp for deeper contact. He
sighed loudly when Alex obliged him, taking more of the length into his
mouth and sucking, starting gently then slowly increasing the intensity
until Mulder was sure his spine was dissolving and flowing out with the
fluid rushing down Alex's throat. He shuddered as the pleasure continued
its sweep through his body, first in surges, then in lapping waves. He
raised heavy eyelids to look at Alex, but all he saw was the rippling
muscles of the other man's back as he reached into the nearest nightstand
and withdrew the supplies that Mulder had noticed during his earlier
snooping. His paranoia breathed a silent sigh of relief when Alex turned
holding only a condom and lube and not the gun.
"I hope you don't mind, Fox-don't-call-me-that, but I thought I'd fuck you
now." Alex spoke matter-of-factly with a slight smile, but his voice was
pure sensual velvet rasping over Mulder's nerve endings. Watching as Alex
quickly prepared himself, Mulder had the fleeting thought that confidence
was a strong aphrodisiac. Alex knew what he wanted to do and he did it.
And he did it well, Mulder thought, as cool slick fingers touching him in a
very sensitive place made his skin burn and his stomach tighten.
With his free hand, Alex wrapped Mulder's hands around the back of his
thighs and told Mulder, "Pull your legs up and hold them. This way I can
see you." Alex leaned forward and planted a deep wet kiss on Mulder's mouth
then whispered against his lips, "I need to see you this time... this first
time."
Alex's soft voice washed over Mulder, darkly tingling and fuzzy in his ears.
He shivered and moaned as the fingers slowly penetrated his body. He felt
faint echoes of his earlier orgasm and wondered if he could get it up again
so soon. Then Alex touched his prostate and Mulder didn't care anymore. He
just closed his eyes and let Alex do whatever he wanted, as long as it felt
this good he had no complaints— and it was very good. Alex played with him
so much that by the time the agile fingers moved away, Mulder was half-hard
and relaxed enough that Alex pushed the head of his cock in with barely a
twinge of discomfort.
"Are you all right?" Alex stopped and waited for Mulder to nod, then
continued his invasion with a slow smooth glide. As his own cock grew
harder and harder, Mulder was sure he was going to burst into flames. The
combination of Alex thrusting inside him and the burning imprint of the
strong fingers wrapping around his aching cock made Mulder shiver and cry
out. He was swept away on another wave of sensation as Alex's cock bumped
across his prostate with every stroke.
The last working brain cell in Mulder's head made him realize that he was
lying here taking what Alex gave him, without really giving anything back.
His hands still gripped his own legs, and he forced himself to turn loose
and reach for Alex instead. His fingertips slid across the damp silk of
Alex's back, digging in, marking and claiming. Planting his feet on the bed
he raised his hips into Alex's thrusts and was rewarded with a wide smile.
Mulder licked his lips and tried to smile back, but his mouth trembled and
his breath caught in his throat. He could feel another orgasm pressing down
on him, crawling down his spine to burst from his body in a warm spurt over
Alex's fingers and wild cry that sounded utterly alien to his ears. He was
drowning and dying and desperately wanted to take Alex with him. And he
did.
Alex kept his eyes open and focused on Mulder's as his whole body stiffened,
then jerked several times as he came inside Mulder. After a suspended
moment in which time stood still and Mulder would have sworn he could feel
the very blood in his veins, Alex pulled out and collapsed onto Mulder with
a loud groan. Mulder let out a breathless grunt as the heavy weight settled
on him, but he smiled just the same.
Alex raised his head from Mulder's shoulder and said, "I'm squashing you."
He started to move off, but Mulder wrapped his arms tight around him. "I'll
let it slide this time. Just don't move until I can breathe on my own
again." And it was true that their chests moved in perfect synch, with Alex
exhaling as Mulder inhaled.
For several minutes, they lay there and enjoyed the blissful peace of
afterglow, but eventually the glow faded into a cooling sticky mess that
started to itch. With a reluctant sigh, Alex moved off Mulder with kiss and
a whispered, "Be right back."
Mulder continued to lie quietly on the soft bed in the dimly lit room,
waiting for regrets and doubts to assail him once more. He was still
waiting when a sparkling clean Alex came back with a warm wet washcloth and
a hand towel. He took the cloth and cleaned himself up as Alex went to the
dresser and pulled out two fresh pairs of boxer-briefs. Mulder caught the
grey pair that came flying at him, and slipped them on as he stood up.
Watching each other across the room, the two men each waited for the other
to speak first. When the silence became oppressive, Mulder finally said
dryly, "Well. It's been a while since I've done that."
"How long?" Alex laughed, but the curiosity in his eyes was serious.
"Very long... embarrassingly long. So, what now?"
Alex ignored the question and remarked, "It was good, wasn't it?" He didn't
seem to be seeking confirmation or reassurance, just sharing his opinion.
"Yeah, it... it was real good. We'll have to do it again sometime."
Alex walked over to Mulder and took his hand. "There you go,
Fox-don't-call-me-that. We have to, because we can't seem to leave each
other alone."
Mulder nodded, but his doubts came back— not as strong as before, but there
nonetheless. "How are we going to do this? We can't have much of a life
together, because much as we might wish otherwise, we are not normal
people."
"We don't have to live together to be together. We carry a piece of each
other around with us wherever we go. We have for a long time, but couldn't
acknowledge it as such." Alex leaned in and kissed Mulder softly, laughing
into his mouth when a loud grumble broke the silence.
Mulder shrugged, smiled sheepishly, and stated the obvious, "I'm a...a
little hungry."
"So I gathered. Come into the kitchen and I'll feed you. You'll need your
strength later."
"You can cook?" Following closely, still holding Alex's hand, Mulder found
the idea both strange and appealing.
"Sure, a little. Don't you?" Alex seemed sincerely surprised
"Well, I haven't starved yet. What are we having?"
While Alex rattled off a list of possibilities, Mulder thought they seemed
like any other couple discussing dinner. How... almost... normal.
Not that they were a couple exactly. Oh, who was he trying to kid? They
were a couple. A couple of what he wasn't entirely sure. After due
consideration, he decided it felt good. Maybe he'd put all the doubts and
introspection on the back burner for a while and just go with it. Give
normal a try...
...with Alex Krycek. Scully is going to kill me.
"Hey Alex, is there any vodka left? I think I'm going to need it."
"Gonna sleep with the stars
His Kiss
by Amy B
Fox Mulder stood in front of a door. It was a standard steel over wood
door, painted white with the number 201 in plain brass numbers over the
peephole. As doors go, it was nondescript. In fact, the whole brick
apartment building was nondescript. There was nothing special or remarkable
about the street or the smallish Maryland town halfway between Baltimore and
D.C., either. Nondescript. Camouflage. The perfect place for a man like
Alex Krycek to hide.
And a slice of the moon
Hanging right above my bed
Gonna dream not of things that I've left behind
But those I found instead down in Mary's land."
—Down in Mary's Land, Mary-Chapin Carpenter
