"Thought you were running out of time," he managed to squeeze out into
the silence that
filled his cellular phone.
"Were you hoping that this time he'd managed to kill me, Mulder?" The
voice was
scratchy, as if from fatigue, or fear, or probably both.
"Why should I want you dead?" The sarcasm was thick, and stinging.
"It would be counterproductive."
"In what way?" He couldn't believe he was hearing this. After all the
nightmares this man
had given him, why shouldn't he want him dead? Except that would be
one more victory for
the Cancerman. He steadfastly refused to consider the other, equally
disturbing dreams he
had had about this man.
"I have what you're looking for." What now? he thought, but waited for
the other man to go
on. "Proof, or at least a starting point."
"Of what?" Mulder ventured.
"Some of the insurance I took with me before I split. Meet me. I don't
want to talk about
this over the line."
"When and where?" And why was he doing this? It wasn't as though he
trusted the son of a
bitch.
"Alley behind the Gann building. Thirty minutes." The click announced
the end of the
conversation. Mulder slowly folded the phone and sat for a moment,
looking out the
window. It was dark, just before ten, and the weather was warm, almost
steamy on this
August night. Just how he wanted to spend his evening, exchanging information
in a back
alley with a man he hated, and wanted, and wished was dead.
Dana Scully pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment building in time
to see his car pull
away. Damn. Now, when she really needed to talk to him, in person,
away from the office ...
just when she'd gathered her courage to finally tell him what she had
seen. And how it had
affected her. And how it was affecting their partnership. She had to
trust him, and she had
to know he trusted her. As long as this was between them, unspoken,
unacknowledged, the
extent of her unwitting culpability weighing her down, they would never
find the ease they
had had with one another. It had been four miserable months. It couldn't
go on. She put the
car back into gear and pulled out, carefully shadowing her partner.
Whatever he was doing,
he'd probably need backup. And when it was over, they would talk.
A shadow detached itself from the side of the wall as Mulder cautiously
picked his way into
the dark alley. The flash of even white teeth in the darkness gave
away the other man's
position, and Mulder drew his gun.
"Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" The light, mocking voice
seemed to float
through the darkness.
"You are not my friend, Krycek."
"Well, I may be, after tonight."
"What do you have for me?" Friends? He sincerely doubted it.
"Not while you're holding a gun. Truce, remember?"
"I remember." Everything. "Okay," he slipped the weapon back into the
holder clipped to
his waistband. "Now. What have you got? And why give it to me?" He
was closer now, his
eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he could make out Alex's face,
the wide eyes staring at
him intently, an almost feral expression in them. His lips were pulled
upward in a tight grin,
and his hair fell forward across his brow. Mulder had a completely
unexpected impulse to
reach out and brush the lock of hair away from those dark eyes, but
checked it before he
made a complete ass of himself.
"I want to take him down. He nearly got me this time." Alex was almost
whispering, and
Mulder found himself drawing nearer in order to hear him. This close,
he could feel the heat
radiating from the other man's body. His own body began to react to
the memories that heat
triggered, and he clenched his teeth against the rush of arousal. "I
can't keep running. My
'insurance' is only buying me time. At this rate the only permanent
solution is either his
death... or mine." He swept his eyes up to meet Mulder's, challenging
him. "You may hate
me, but I'm not in your way in your search for the truth. I can even
help you. He never will.
So make up your mind. Who would you rather see taken out of the game?"
He wanted to say 'you,' but he couldn't. "Cancerman." In the dim light,
he saw Alex nod.
The younger man reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a manilla
envelope. As
Mulder reached to take it, he drew back. Mulder looked at him suspiciously.
"I need something in return." Krycek's voice shook slightly.
"What now?" He stared hard at Alex, noting the increased rate of his
breathing, the glitter
growing in his eyes. Alex reached into the envelope and drew out a
sheet of paper.
"Here's what I'm offering." Mulder took the paper and began to scan
the contents, holding
the page close to his face in order to read it. He didn't see Krycek
moving closer to him, too
excited by what he saw in the photocopied sheet. Names. Dates. Places.
Forty years ago,
but the beginning of the paper trail that would tie Cancerman directly
to the human/alien
cross fertilization experiments... to Samantha. "There's more." Krycek's
husky voice was
right at his ear, and he started, raising his head from the paper to
come face to face with
Alex. The other man was so close he could feel his breath on his face.
He swallowed. He
really wanted these papers.
"What do you want from me?" His voice sounded raspy, although he wasn't
sure if it was
fear or arousal. Krycek was so close now, he could see the flush in
his cheeks, the light
glistening off his moistened lips, where he had recently licked them.
He swallowed again,
more heavily.
"Something I've given you, twice now. Turn about's fair play, after
all." Memories burned
in Mulder's mind, and he involuntarily glanced at the bulge in the
front of Krycek's jeans.
The two men locked glances, and Mulder swallowed a third time. Then
he nodded. Krycek
smiled, a hint of the feral showing through there as well, then took
back the sheets and
carefully shuffled them in with the rest. He put the packet back in
his jacket, and the two
men stood there for a long moment. Mulder could just take them and
run. Except Alex
would probably catch him. He could shoot Alex, now, and take the evidence.
But he wasn't
sure he could... or even wanted to. Finally he admitted it to himself.
He wanted this. He
would never admit it to anyone else, and he wasn't sure he wanted to
think about it at all,
but he wanted this.
"When we're... you're finished. Then you'll get it." Krycek waited
patiently, wanting
Mulder to make the first move. Demanding it. Taking a deep breath,
taking in the unique
scent of musk and cologne and sweet urgency that was so familiar from
their previous
encounters, Mulder pushed Krycek gently against the wall and knelt
gingerly in front of
him. They were sheilded from the street by a pile of broken slats and
cardboard, creating
an illusion that there was no one else in the world, no one sharing
the dark except
themselves. Tentatively reaching out to work the zipper of Krycek's
jeans down, he wasn't
surprised by the heft of the erection behind it. His own body was hardening,
and he licked
his lips.
"I'm not very good at this," he growled, concentrating on freeing Alex's
rigid cock from the
cotton briefs. He couldn't have looked up to save his life. Alex ran
the fingertips of his right
hand through the dense softness of Mulder's hair, his left hand hooking
his waist band to
draw it down and give the other man better access. "I'll let you know
when you're doing it
right," he managed, then caught his breath as Mulder wrapped his fingers
around his
straining penis, pushing the material out of the way with his other
hand. Mulder was caught
up in the stangeness of the whole situation, and his world narrowed
to the hot, slick flesh in
his hands. He took a shuddering breath, and began to stroke the shaft,
thinking of the
movements he used on himself, what gave him pleasure. As his fingers
traced the veins,
pressing firmly into the muscle then palpating the head with his thumb,
he heard Krycek
gasping above him. A single salty tear appeared at the slit along the
top, and the hand in his
hair began to urge his head down. Mulder went with the movement, allowing
his curiousity
and unacknowledged lust sway. He delicately licked all around the crown,
wetting the skin
with his saliva, before allowing the head to slip into his mouth. The
slightly bitter taste of
precum slicked over his tongue and he reacted instinctively, working
his lips and tongue to
spread the liquid around. Judging by the light panting and softly repressed
moans rumbling
from Krycek, he was doing something right.
Having given himself up to doing this, Mulder finally shut off his mind
and allowed his body
to take over. He leaned closer to Krycek, one hand roving down to cup
his balls, kneading
them and rolling them in the sac. The other hand held his cock firmly,
as he slid his mouth
up and down the sides, licking here, nibbling there, as if Krycek was
a lollipop and he was
starving for sweets. So different, and yet so much the same. Alex began
to buck slightly
under his hands, and he bent to his task, covering the whole shaft
with one hand, digging the
fingers of his other hand into the soft skin and firm muscle of the
hip under him, and
concentrating on the sensitive cock head, sucking hard.
After several moments of this, he felt the quivers begin in Krycek's
legs, and he slipped
one hand between the other man's thighs and up between his ass cheeks,
probing for his
opening and pressing firmly. His other hand wrapped around Alex's balls,
and he rolled
them from side to side in counter rhythm to the two finger stretching
Alex's ass. Trying to
finish him off, Mulder opened his jaw, relaxed his throat, and took
Alex as deeply into his
throat as he could, fighting the reflex to gag and concentrating on
the taste and texture of
the cock thrusting into his throat. He clamped his lips as firmly as
possible along the shaft
as Krycek increased his thrusts, allowing a hint of teeth to scrape
at irregular intervals,
eliciting whimpers from Krycek, dragging his soft lower lip along the
underside of Alex's
cock until the other man could no longer supress his moans.
The triple assault was more than he could cope with, and Krycek found
himself thrusting
mindlessly into Mulder, both hands buried in the thick mop of hair,
his head thrashing back
and forth. He forced himself to look down, entranced by the sight of
Mulder, eyes squeezed
shut, going at his cock like an expert. Who said he was no good at
this? He was a natural!
Before he could complete the thought, he felt the undeniable build
up of pressure in his
balls, and tried to warn Mulder. But the only sounds he could force
past his tight throat
were moans. He untangled one hand long enough to nudge Mulder's cheek,
and Mulder
managed to look up at him, not breaking his rhythm in the least. Alex
tried to gesture with
his head that Mulder should pull away, but before he could, his orgasm
hit, and he found
himself pressing forward as hard as he could, shooting into the other
man's mouth. To a
surprise he could only think about afterward, Mulder kept his eyes
locked on his own, and
swallowed as fast as Krycek could shoot. The hard sucking around his
spasming cock only
made the convulsions stronger, and he came so hard he nearly passed
out. Mulder
continued to milk him with his fist and mouth until he was drained,
leaning weakly against
the wall, running his hands tenderly over Mulder's face and hair. He
hadn't expected such
... enthusiasm.
Mulder didn't really want to stop. If he stopped, he'd have to get up,
and face Krycek. And
after his performance, he didn't want to do that. But when Krycek began
to slide bonelessly
against the wall, he found himself rising and supporting the smaller
man, nestling the solid
warmth against his own body, shaking from the aftermath of what he'd
just done.
Voluntarily. Without drugs, or really much coercion. He felt intensely
confused, and
aroused, and frightened. He licked his lips, tasting the semen there,
and shivered. Alex
raised his head, his deep green eyes meeting the open hazel eyes slightly
above his own,
and sympathized. Mulder did the same thing to him that he was now apparently
doing to
Mulder. Confused the hell out of him and made him incredibly hot. He
gave in to a sudden
need and reached up to capture Mulder's lower lip between his, deepening
the nibble into a
full kiss, sweeping his tongue into the agent's mouth to taste himself.
Mulder allowed the
contact, even leaned into it for a moment, then he broke away suddenly,
tearing himself
from the inviting warmth of Krycek's body, shaking his head as if coming
out of a trance.
Alex watched him for a moment, then, with a decisive nod, drew the
documents from his
jacket and handed them to Mulder.
"Here." You earned them, he nearly added, but he didn't. That would
make Mulder feel
like a whore, and that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted more, and if
he played it right, he
just might get it.
Mulder looked at the envelope in his hand and licked his lips again.
He had it, but at what
price? He couldn't read Krycek, not now... he couldn't bring himself
to look at him that
closely. There was a rustle of denim, and a snick of metal, then silence.
"Use them well, Mulder. Get the bastard." The soft words were nearly
whispered, and he
nodded in response. When he finally gathered his courage and looked
up, Krycek was gone.
He took several deep breaths of the sultry night air, then shakily
moved out of the alley
twoard his car. Placing the precious envelope on the passenger seat
behind him, he
clenched his hands on the steering wheel and headed for home, still
in a state of shock.
Scully was in a state of shock as well, reeling from what she had seen.
Krycek, showing
Mulder a piece of paper, then moving in and taking the paper back.
Mulder, with seemingly
no hesitation at all, dropping to his knees and giving Krycek what
looked to be an expert
and extremely effective blow job, judging by the effect on Krycek.
The ecstasy drawn on
the man's face as he leaned against the wall, her partner's hands and
mouth driving him
insane, was burned into Scully's brain. A thought from an earlier unwilling
voyeuristic
episode swam through her mind... they were both so beautiful. She
was breathing in short
pants, her fists clenched, her eyes darting wildly from side to side.
One she loved. One she
hated. And she wanted both. Stepping carefully from the nest of wood
and cardboard that
had covered her, she almost ran to her car. She had to get to Mulder.
Now.
He didn't bother to turn on the lights, just sat in the darkness lit
by the fishtank. His mind
was running in crazed circles, like a fox caught in a trap. He laughed
out loud at the
unintentional pun, and dropped his head back onto the couch. His mind
was insisting on
being heard, and he sighed and let it have it's say.
He was crazy. Certifiable. Should be shot, or locked up for his own
safety, or something
equally drastic. Because he hated Alex Krycek to depths he had seldom
hated anyone, and
he wanted him just as deeply. He toed off his shoes, then pulled off
his socks and shirt,
trying to cool down. As usual, his air conditioner was on the fritz,
and equally as usual, he
hadn't gotten around to calling the landlord about fixing it. The August
heat, combined with
the thoughts of his recent activities and his own unsatisfied arousal,
were making his body
temperature skyrocket.
"Fuck it," he growled to the fish. Wiggling out of his jeans and shorts,
he tossed them
carelessly beside the couch. Feeling slightly cooler, he collapsed
back onto the worn
cushions, debated on whether to turn on the tv, thought about the tape
currently in his vcr,
and swore again. His head dropped back to the soft cushion and his
hands began to skim
over his body as his mind replayed what he had done to Alex Krycek.
As the scene began
to unfold with eidectic perfection behind his eyelids, his hands went
directly to his rigid
cock, and he began to stroke himself firmly. The taste, the scent,
the strangled cries he had
incited earlier came back to him, and his own muted groans began to
fill the room. Caught
up in the sensations radiating from his hands on his cock, he didn't
hear the key snick in the
lock or the gentle swish of the door opening.
Scully closed the door as quietly as she had opened it, her attention
completely caught up in
the unmistakable sounds of her partner's voice moaning in pleasure.
Forgetting to set the
security chain, she dropped her purse on the floor, moving silently
across the thin carpet to
the living room, entranced at the sight that met her eyes. Mulder lay
in splendid abandon,
one long leg splayed out along the front of the couch, the other bent
slightly, heel digging
into the cushion. He was completely naked, and she drank in the sight
of his flushed,
sweating skin, bunched muscles in his chest, arms, thighs, his head
thrown back and the
tendons showing in his arched throat. His nipples were erect, and the
sinewy muscles along
his arms quivered with the force of his thrusting hands. His fingers
were wrapped around
his straining cock, almost purple with the force of his arousal, so
close to bursting. His flesh
was slick with ejaculate, and she could see by the rapid pounding that
he was close to
coming. The moans were almost continuous now, low, growly, distinctly
Mulder. She had
always wondered if he was a screamer. As he spilled over the edge,
come soaking his hands
and spilling over onto the tops of his thighs, she had her answer.
She hoped his neighbors
were sound sleepers.
Eyes still shut, feeling some relief from the pressure built up earlier
in the evening but still
flushed with arousal, he was jolted from his thoughts by the completely
unexpected
sensation of a tongue lapping at the base of his cock. He jolted upright,
or tried, but she
followed him, and he stared in shock at the burnished red hair of his
partner, kneeling
beside the couch and busily licking up the puddles of semen along his
groin and the soft
skin of his inner thighs. His cock stirred, and he finally managed
a croaked question.
"Scully?" God. That felt incredible. Now, here was someone who knew
what to do with her
tongue. He tried to push her away, or that's what he told himself,
but she felt so incredibly
good that he found himself pushing up toward her questing mouth.
"Mmph?" She sounded preoccupied, and didn't bother stopping to look
up at him. His hand
slipped away from her hair, down along her shoulder, coming to rest
on her collarbone
before giving in to temptation and sliding down to cup her breast.
She edged closer to the
couch, pushing the weight of her breast further into his hand, and
he felt the hard nub of her
nipple butting into his palm. Her pace increased, licking all the way
around his cock, lifting
his sac with her fingertip then cleaning under it with her agile tongue.
Her hands worked
their way under his hips, cupping his ass and urging him closer. Finally,
he couldn't stand it
any longer. He had to have more.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled her head away from his crotch. She fought
him at first, then
gave ground, allowing herself to be moved. Before she quite caught
her breath, he gripped
the hem of her tee shirt and stripped it efficiently off, biting back
a moan at the sight of the
pale skin filling the white lace bra. He could see her nipples straining
against the material,
and he curled over, drawing her over him in order to nibble them delicately
through the
material. She groaned in response and raked her nails down his chest,
returning the
delicious torture.
As he continued to work on her breasts, chaffing the tender skin through
the material, she
pushed off her shorts, frantically kicking off her sandals. She had
waited four years for this,
and she wasn't waiting a second longer than she had to, now that they
were finally naked
together. Something to thank the rat bastard for, she thought muzzily,
then gasped as
Mulder finally flicked the clasp to her bra and began to knead her
bare breasts. She pushed
him further back onto the couch, her small, strong hands pushing at
his shoulders until he
was prone. Straddling his waist, she rubbed her inner thighs against
his soft skin,
luxuriating in the feeling of his mouth on her breasts, letting the
flow build before finally
allowing her now wet cunt to rub against his stomach. He thrust up
in response, the tip of his
erection prodding against her ass, and she reluctantly sat up, pulling
her nipple from his
teeth. He held on for a little while, stretching the flesh delightfully,
before letting her get
away.
"Sometimes being short sucks," she hissed, and he grinned at her. The
grin was wiped
away as she lifted herself and reached between them the grasp his cock
firmly, pulling it to
her opening and very carefully guiding it into her. It had been awhile,
and even as wet as
she was, it was a tight fit. He held himself as rigid as possible,
trying to control the urge to
roll her over onto the floor and plunge into her. As the tight heat
enveloped him slowly, inch
at a time, he tossed his head back and bit at his lip. She rocked gently,
getting the tip in,
then sliding a little further down the shaft with each rock, letting
gravity do some of the
work, mentally congratulating Mulder on his restraint. Of course, the
fact that he'd just
jerked himself off was undoubtedly helping, she grinned to herself.
With one final push,
forcing a gasp out of both of them, she took all of him in.
He was in hell, and heaven, all at the same time. The anticipation of
movement was surely
going to kill him, and the wet, tight heat clinging to him like a second
skin felt better than
anything he could remember, even with his memory. She slowly folded
over onto him, with
his cock buried deep inside her, and stretched her mouth toward his
ear. "Don't just lay
there, Mulder. Fuck me." The unexpected command broke his control,
and he began to
thrust, slowly at first, then gradually building speed. Her eyes were
locked with his, and the
heat radiated between them. Her hands roamed over his chest, testing
the muscle, tweaking
his nipples, caressing his arms, his throat, his face. His hands also
explored, teasing her
nipples, rounding her hip to squeeze her ass, finally drawing down
between their driving
bodies to seek out her clit. As he neared his climax, he pincered her
clit between two strong
fingers, frigging it in time to their thrusts. The precise movements
on her delicate flesh
jolted through her, and she threw her head back, sighing loudly as
her body clenched
around his in orgasm. The milking sensations of her internal muscles
sent an answering
orgasm ripping through his body, only he was much louder than she,
cutting loose with a
rasping scream as she collapsed on top of him.
As the humid breeze from the open window washed over the sweaty bodies
entwined on the
couch, Mulder wondered what the hell he was supposed to say now. Before
he got the
chance, she spoke, her words half muffled by the pressure of her face
against his chest.
"We have to talk."
Did they ever, he thought, but he waited for her to continue.
"I saw you." She wouldn't—couldn't look at him. "In the alley." His
body jerked
underneath her, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, not letting
him withdraw. "It
wasn't the first time, Mulder. When Krycek kidnapped me, and you came
to rescue me."
Her words started to come faster as she felt his body grow rigid under
her, either from
shock or horror, she wasn't sure which. "He did put me in the little
room, as I told you, and
I couldn't get out, but I didn't tell you that he turned on a monitor
before he left. It was
showing the room that you were in. I heard everything, Mulder." She
gulped and rushed on.
"I saw everything. He told me that he wanted to show me, and that you
wouldn't have a
clue. I saw him inject you, saw your reaction. I... saw you having
sex with him... having sex
with each other."
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was flat, and dead.
"Because I didn't know what to say. I was half hoping you would talk
to me, and half hoping
you wouldn't."
He gripped her shoulders and pulled her gently up so that he could see
her face. "Why not,
Scully?"
She stared at him for a long moment, embarrassment and arousal warring
in her eyes. "I
was... it was... the two of you... god, Mulder, you were both so
beautiful!" She pulled from
his grip and leaned down, kissing him voraciously, her tongue capturing
his full lower lip
before sweeping inside. He arched up into the kiss, then broke it off.
Staring at her in
fascination, he mused, "I do have a bed, you know. And it'd be a hell
of a lot more
comfortable than this couch." She grinned and slid off of him, wincing
as seldom used
muscles protested the movement. Taking her hand, he levered himself
off the couch and
followed her into the bedroom.
A shadow watched from the doorway, smiling to himself. This situation
had definite
possibilities. He waited to hear the soft sounds of lovemaking begin
to issue from the rear
room, then let himself back out the front door, carefully locking it
behind him with the same
pick he had used to get in.
In a well equipped dark room in an elegant Georgetown home, a quiet,
powerful man looked
on as the prints he had paid for developed slowly in the solution.
His spies had finally
managed to catch another of Mulder's sources, and he was very interested
in seeing the
identity of the man who was feeding Mulder information. He needed to
know, in order to
control that flow of information, for Mulder was no use to him unless
he could be controlled.
As the images developed, an unusual expression of surprise tightened
the normally calm,
dark features. His eyes narrowed, glittering in the dim light, and
a cold smile tilted the
corner of his mouth. It would appear that Agent Krycek had not left
the picture after all,
contrary to the reports of his demise. And it would also appear that
Agent Mulder had a
somewhat more intimate relationship with Mr. Krycek than he had previously
thought. The
man known as X traced his lips with the tip of his index finger, eyes
riveted to the images
taken from the dark alley, by a watcher hidden in the shadows of a
nearby roof.
This situation had distinct possibilities. He could always use a proven
foot soldier, and as
for Mulder... the smile grew. Possibilities, indeed.
Possibilities
by Brenda Antrim
He'd hoped, almost prayed, that he'd never hear that voice again. The
memories of what
that bastard had done to him, and the more recent memories of his own
actions, haunted
him. He understood a little better why his enemy had not been able
to get their coupling out
of his mind. Having both given and recieved, and having confronted
depths to his sensuality
that he'd have been happier never seeing, he had hoped that it would
be over. The
traitorous voice in the back of his mind that whispered of his pleasure
was one he tried to
ignore. But this other voice brought it back.
