"Mulder's straight," was all he had been able to think of replying. Sure, he had expected to hear a lot of things on this meeting, but that particular suggestion had still taken him by surprise. "Well," the smug cigarette-smoking bastard had leaned back and peered at him calmly, "I am sure you are just the man to change that." There had been an insult in there somewhere, he had been sure, and he had tried to meet the level gaze, communicate back what a completely fucked up idea this was. The old man Spender had only tilted his head to one side and waited. Challenging Alex to argue. He had seen and understood and, biting his lip to stop himself from making a face, he had only sighed and shook his head. "It's not going to work." Spender had not even given him an inch. "I have faith in you, Alex." Alex would have laughed if he didn't know what lay behind those innocent words. Yeah, you have faith that I know exactly how much is at stake here. He had no doubt he was not going to last very much longer if he did not comply, but he didn't allow his feelings to show, didn't want to give the old bastard the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. He would have to take a very humbling outlook on life to sail through his ascent in this group, for that he was more than prepared, but there was no need to go nuts. He had made a casual gesture, hid his concern. His disgust. "I'll try my best," he had said. "I know you will Alex." I know you will, Alex. The words rang in his ear even now as he was standing in front of the mirror, trying to make his tie even, and cursing a constant stream of profanities under his breath. He needed to swear. It took the edges off, and made the thundercloud moving in over his mind less consuming. It was a skill he had had to learn as he started working for the Consortium; to not let his explosive temper get the better of him, and it was a skill he was learning to master almost perfectly. Well, he had got a lot of practise lately, the more he got involved with 'the cause'. Man, but those old men could send him to the very end of his tether. And this last plan was just too much. "Seduce Mulder", they had told him. "You need to be more to him, get closer." And then the unspoken threat of what would happen if he didn't agree. Lucky for them he was exercising this uncharacteristic self-control, not to mention unabashed grovelling. Very lucky. The payback would be sweet, though. He made a face at himself in the mirror and pulled at the ugly tie, which he had chosen carefully because it had just the right touch of 'seriously clueless' with 'seriously no threat'. Well, that was all going to go to hell now. All his hard work on getting close to the FBI agent the Consortium had such a complicated ambiguity to, it would all be ruined if he did what they had ordered him to do. The tie made a distinct organic sound, and ended up on the other side of the room. It was not that the thought of seducing him scared Alex. When he had taken the old man Spender up on his offer he had realised there would be some extreme things asked of him, and sure, he was willing to go that bit extra to prove himself, to gain access. He had prepared himself for some low moments, some running errands and being called 'boy'. It was a fair price to pay for getting in. Everyone had to start somewhere, and they better all enjoy him while they were able to order him around. Granted, prostituting himself had not been on his list of expectations, but what the fuck, it was not like he hadn't done worse things. It might be the first cock he would suck for his career, and perhaps not his last one, but it didn't scare him. It was just not what he had planned. Besides, it wouldn't work anyway. He'll see straight through it. It doesn't fit into my character. It'll blow my cover. He stopped suddenly, as he realised he had not incorporated the notion that Mulder would simply say no into his list of what would go wrong. Why, he didn't know. He had said himself that Mulder was straight, although admittedly 'straight' might be too rigid a word for such a fluid person as Fox Mulder. "Yeah, he probably takes it every which way he can get it." Alex snorted his disgust at such an unabashed lack of principles. And control. Well, that came without saying. On the way to work he thought about the best way of going about it. What would seem plausible, what would fit in with the character he had already worked so hard to establish. Should he tell Mulder straight out and let him do the actual sexual initiation, or should he simply start throwing starry eyed looks and love-charged hints his way and pretend to be scared and nervous when the other man confronted him with it? As he got on the highway and into the usual morning queue, he noticed that as he actually started thinking practically about what he was about to do, he had tensed up and his fingers gripped the steering wheel harder than really necessary. In Alex's book, bodily reflexes were there to overcome, and he frowned as he mulled over the unwanted response. If he reacted that way just thinking about it... Okay, getting all nervous is not going to make it any easier. Just concentrate on the task But it took all his effort just to force his shoulders to drop and fingers to release, and by the time he got to the FBI Headquarters he did not have any more ideas than when he left. As he rode the elevator down to the basement, he caught a glimpse of his own tense face in the metal doors, and grimaced. He was feeling nervous, self conscious, and fidgeting with the end of his jacket like some nervous school boy. He was not used to behaving so...unprofessionally. What the hell is the matter with you? Just go in there and do your job. He took a deep breath and opened the door to Mulder's office. "Good morning." The sandy-brown haired man did not even look up. "Yeah. Krycek, would you have a look at these for me. Tell me what you see." Alex found himself pulling a little on his shirt as he moved over to where Mulder was sitting to lean over him. "I see a blurry photo of a hill." The faint scent of Mulder's hair suddenly had him surrounded and he reached for the damn tie again, irritated at himself for doing so. "Why? What do you see?" The other agent turned his face towards him and suddenly they were only inches apart and there was definitely something wrong with the air in the room, and their lips must be closer than they'd ever been before, close enough to... Before Alex knew what he was doing he had straightened up and out of Mulder's personal zone, only then finally able to breathe properly again. Once he realised what he had done, he blinked surprised at himself. What the fuck was that? Noticing his hands were clammy, he fisted them and staved off an urge to slam them against his knee. Get yourself together. Now. If Mulder had noticed anything he did not let it on. "I see something moving," he said, putting the photo down on the table again. "Going somewhere. Pick up or deliver." Alex managed a very convincing frown. "What are you talking about?" There was more to the slight shiver in his voice than mere surprise It was no good. He needed a plan. Could not work without a plan. Needed a well-structured idea that he could follow, one that would not allow for any mistakes. Turning to face the man he noticed Mulder had loosened his tie. It might not be the most thrilling striptease Alex had ever seen, but knowing Mulder the short while he had, it was pretty significant. He focused on the tie and was suddenly side-tracked by the thought of Mulder's body underneath. It was a body which he was now supposed to be turned on by now, one which was pretty nice, well, at least in comparison to the limited number of bodies Alex had had the opportunity to look at. It was also a body which his character would want to look at, touch and perhaps even lick. "- tion sites." He realised Mulder was looking at him expectantly. "Eh, sorry, what was that?" Mulder gave him one of those looks, the ones that always made him smile a little, but didn't usually make him have to swallow thickly. He swallowed thickly. "I asked you how much you know about alien abduction-sites." "Eh, not much." Just about every location of every past, present and future sites and pretty much who will be abducted. He managed a dumb-founded look. "You...you think it's...alien?" He got a short nod, and felt himself able to breathe again as the penetrating eyes left his. "Well, I am going to go up there." Mulder got up and grabbed his jacket. And then, just as he swept by him, the off-hand question. "Want to come?" Alex's hands went up to his tie again. Otherwise his "sure", would have been almost equally casual. Almost. They had spent exactly nine hours together, and still Alex had not managed to find a single opportunity that seemed suitable for Operation Seduction to commence. Having decided that the hints-approach would be the one working best in accordance with his character development, was about as far as he had got. They had sat quietly in the car, listening to cheesy country love-songs and he had attempted a long, smouldering look, but Mulder had not seemed to notice. Eating lunch at a small roadside diner, he had taken up a thread of being lonely and finding it hard to meet people—hoping Mulder would pick up on the missing pronoun—but Mulder had been deeply immersed in the folder he had brought and only grunted something affirmative that probably meant he wasn't listening. As the day turned into late afternoon, and after three accidental thigh touches, three mentions of gay clubs in the Washington area and even a "I like this singer, he looks so good on the album cover, don't you think?", Alex had started to wonder if Mulder might not be a bit too dense for subtlety. He looked out the window, feeling one of his explosive tempers coming on, and decided that he should turn to a more direct strategy, both for his own a well as Mulder's continuing health. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the hazel eyes meeting his own. Here we go. "Mulder." "What?" "Ehrm, there is something I think you should know." Okay, once more with feeling. He cleared his throat slightly. "I just think that you should know how I feel about you, me...us." He made an inner grimace. It sounded too much like cliché, too thought out. He was trying too hard. "Don't worry," he continued, holding up one hand to stop Mulder's response. "I don't mean to push you or anything, I just mean, you have me wondering." Cool detachment. Much better. In the driver seat, Mulder was silent, a small frown on his forehead, but still quite calm. "I see," he said then. There was a short pause. "So that's what you wanted to talk to me about?" There was no real emotion in his voice and for a few seconds Alex could think of absolutely nothing to say. "Uhm," his hands were on that damned tie again, and he squirmed, irritated both with himself and Mulder. "Yeah, well, I don't know. I guess I'm just a bit confused," he said finally. Oh, hell, another cliché. He should have done some more reading on this, not just quote every line from every Gay Melodrama. Mulder, however, only nodded. "Okay." And went back to watching the road. Having expected more of a reaction right there, Alex just blinked for a few moments, unable to think of anything else to say. He had hoped to simply have to hand the ball over to Mulder and just lie back watching things unfold in either direction. He had figured it would be a bit more of a big deal for Mulder. Did the man have young agents come out to him every day or something? Had the scenario been real, Alex would have been quite insulted. As it was, he felt the previous nervousness being replaced by irritation. "Okay, then." He went quiet, looking out the window again and waiting for the silence to force a response out of the man next to him. It didn't. When they pulled into the Bureau's garage Alex was seething. No more mentions of inappropriate feelings. No reaction either way, and once inside Mulder only gave him an absent-minded pat on the shoulder. "I have a lot to do now, but thanks for your help." Thanks? You're thanking me? For what, not getting my dick out and jerking off all over the car? Exasperated, Alex decided to throw caution to the wind and followed him. He caught him in his office already hard at work, of course, and probably not even remembering their little exchange in the car. He decided to try a bit more hands on tactic. The man was an academic after all, maybe he needed more obvious signals to break through his concentration. Swallowing his earlier nervousness, he perched on the desk, put his hand within Mulder's vision and even leaned back a little. "Mulder, there is something I want to talk to you about." The other man hardly looked up from the photo in his hands. "Mm." Alex counted slowly to ten, then he decided what he needed to do was turn the conversation more interactive, he formed the next sentence as a question. "I just want to know how you feel about it?" "About what?" His voice was soft, but betrayed no feelings and Alex wondered irritated if there was a class at Quantico that he had missed. "About what we were talking about in the car." Mulder looked up then, one eyebrow arched questioningly. "That you're gay?" So he had been listening then. Apparently not got the implications, though. "Well...yeah. For starters." Mulder nodded. "I think that's fine." And went back to studying his photos. Alex managed to swallow his approaching angry outburst. God, it was like pulling teeth, getting an answer out of Mulder. He made one more attempt. "And how do you feel about...us?" Finally a bit of a stir. "Us?" "Yeah, us." Come on, you fucker, put me out of my misery. "I think," Mulder's gaze did not falter from Alex's, his eyes open and warm, but his expression calm, "that we can be friends." ARGGHH! Alex held his eyes for what felt like a very, very long time, but when the other man made no inclination to move, he decided he had used up all his patience for that evening. "Alright then," he knew he snapped it in a way that Mulder was bound to notice and that was completely out of character, but then again this whole fucking stunt had been out of character, and if that did not bother the old bastards in the Consortium then it didn't bother him either. He exited the office, frustrated, irritated and about to put his fist through something. He decided there was only one thing for it. Staring at the way the golden hue of the whiskey reflected the dim lightning in the bar and feeling the familiar mushy feeling take form behind his ears, Alex realised something. Alcohol lowered inhibitions. Albeit this information was nothing new per se, he had never thought about in the context of sex before. He had never had any reason too. Sexually, he had always been the aggressive type, getting off on the buzz of the risky, seedy sides of sex almost as much as the act itself. Now, as the edges of his vision were starting to blur, and things seemed a bit less frustrating and a bit more humorous, he realised something. He could think of seducing Mulder without reaching for his tie. He was not gay and he did not fancy Mulder, still he could think about what he was supposed to do to him and feel a bit... thrilled. He like challenges, always had. Got off on them. Maybe he had been going about this the wrong way. He had himself already decided that it was a stupid idea that would ruin his undercover assignment no matter what, so then why did he creep around thinking he should stay in character? What he ought to do was go over there and get it over with as fast as possible. Like ripping of a bandage. Quick and painful. One shot and he could go on with the rest of his working life. It was the only way to do it. Quick and painful. Oh, shit. No, don't get like that again. Don't think. It's only about the results. Sweeping the rest of the whiskey, he stood up, grabbed his jacket and unsteadily but determinedly exited the bar. The cab-ride was a bit of a blur, as was the brown door he was standing in front of and hammering on loudly with his fist. "Mulder! Open up!" The hard, tough FBI-agent that opened the door was dressed in jeans and a rumpled T-shirt and had hair that stood out in all directions and unfocused, tired eyes. Just like the other FBI-agent in front of him, although for completely different reasons. "Alex, shit, it's the middle of the night. What are you doing here?" His voice was cottoned and drowsy, almost a whisper. It felt like teasing feathers on Alex itchy nerves. "Can I come in?" He said it loud enough to be inappropriate for this time of night. And with this amount of neighbours. He didn't want to give Mulder a choice. Mulder blinked a couple of times, then looked quickly behind Alex at the so far empty hallway, and then he sighed. "Yeah, sure, why don't you." He held the door open and Alex made a show of pressing against him when he moved past him and into the warm apartment. "Oops, thanks, Mulder, s'preciate it." He could feel the other man flinch slightly as their bodies made contact, and he tried to interpret the signal. Was it resenting or relishing the touch? Which direction was it appearing to be heading? To a fight or a fu... Nerves suddenly got the better of him, and he took a few unsteady steps away from the enclosed hallway. "You're drunk," Mulder said simply and Alex didn't see there was much he could say to that so he just nodded. "Yes, quite." There was a silence and he could feel Mulder's penetrative looks as they bore into his back, reminding him that he was actually a lot less drunk then he pretended—and by now wished—he were. Trying to avoid looking directly at the other man still standing quietly over by the door, he looked around in the apartment. Nice, but not homely. Warm, but not cosy. He snorted to himself. Like he knew anything about stuff like that. "Nice place," he said anyway as he sat down heavily on a chair. He had contemplated the couch, but somehow it felt a bit daunting. In time, he would move over there. When he knew where he had Mulder. Not before he was sure he had the situation under control. So the chair it was. "Is something wrong, Alex?" Mulder was looking questioningly but undeniably friendly at him. And the name, Alex, he had just started calling him that. Just the day before or so. Did they know that? Was that why they chose this particular moment to forward things? The thought made him cold, in more than one way. Being there, in the dark but warm apartment, finally about to do it, Alex felt a bit less bold than he had thought he would. Somehow he had figured that five straight shots of whiskey would make this easy. Drink, go there, jump Mulder's bones, close his eyes and watch himself climb another step on the ladder to where he wanted to end up. Yeah, he had figured it be a bit of a more rush by now. Like the first time he had to hurt someone. He had been nervous and sick and wondered what he was doing, then precisely that feeling of doing it anyway had pushed some button within him and the adrenaline and mental rush had been unreal. Soul-cleansing, somehow, sorting out his own head, finding out what a son-of-a-bitch he really was. Getting in touch with his inner dark child. Oh, yeah. But for some reason, now, in Mulder's apartment, about to drop his pants and basically sell his ass, the lurid adrenaline alluded him. He only felt scared, a bit dizzy and frankly a bit shy. Come on, you fucker. Sonofabitch, just fucking get it together. He took a deep breath and looked over at the door. Mulder was still regarding him quietly, and his eyes burned Alex's face. Forcing himself to ignore the slight shiver that went through him, he even managed to let his gaze travel suggestively over the other man's body. "I think you know why I'm here." If you don't then I want to know what pills you're taking. He waited. Tilted his head, licked his lips and waited. Mulder met his gaze for a few moments, then he sighed and nodded. "I guess I do." He didn't make any inclination to near him, however, only made a small gesture and said; "I'll make you some coffee, shall I?" And that was it. It was out in the open, and Alex found that he could suddenly hear his own heartbeats pulsating in his ears. Jesus! Is this really me? He found also that he was still alone on this side of the living room, and that Mulder had simply turned and disappeared into the kitchen. "Okay," he shouted after him, and his voice cracked a tiny bit, possibly from the alcohol, but also possibly from something else. "Milk?" What the fuck? "Eh, no...thanks." When Mulder returned with the coffee, Alex pounced. The first touch of lips against lips was weird, hard and awkward, so Alex decided that all careful manipulation plans be damned and threw himself headfirst into it. He parted his lips and pressed his tongue inside the other man's mouth with no regard to the startled moan breathed back into his own. It felt good to do something, not just sit and wring his hands and worry, so he decided to keep up the strategy. Without breaking the lip-lock, he let his hand trail down to the top of Mulder's jeans, and although unable to stop his hand from shaking, he soon had the top button opened. Mulder let out a surprised gasp as fingers moved down his zipper, and Alex took the opportunity to press his mouth to the older man's ear. "Let's do it," he whispered, trying to make his voice husky and sexy. The body over his stiffened, and Mulder's voice was a frown as he tried to push away. "What?" "No strings attached. Just sex. Hot...hard..." He bit playfully in one earlobe, and emphasised each word by pressing his groin against the other man's hips. "...sex." "Alex..." "It will be great, I promise." "You promise?" Somewhere in the alcohol haze Alex did register the warning tone in his voice. That, and also Mulder was way too calm and collected for someone being so obviously seduced, but he kept on anyway, wriggling one hand free and placing it between the other man's legs. Mulder was hard. But he was not very hard. "I want you right now?" Mulder was quiet for a while, watching Alex intently and then he suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, clenching them so hard it hurt. "Alright, let's do it. Why don't you start by giving me a blow job?" He pushed Alex roughly to his knees, holding his shoulder firmly with one hand and unbuttoning his fly with the other. Shock managed to break through the whiskey in his blood and Alex felt a bit less confident suddenly, as he hesitantly moved his hands up to fit over the other man's. "Oh, okay." Mulder raised one eyebrow and nodded. "Yeah? And then perhaps you could let me come in your mouth as well. I love that, you know." "Oh." He felt confused, the words too fast for his spinning head. When he hesitated Mulder grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him up closer, his eyes dangerous and his voice low and angry as he spoke again. "Exactly what part of you, raving drunk, letting me do things you'd be too out of it to enjoy and then regret or not remember, do you think turns me on?" Alex couldn't get his head together enough to be able to formulate an answer to that and Mulder shook him again, harder. "What? Gee, Alex, it's nice to know you have such a high opinion of me." Not understanding what Mulder was saying, Alex could only wince at the shaking. "Mulder, please, I..." "What was that? I couldn't hear." "I feel dizzy." "Right! Well, that can be fixed." Before Alex have time to react he was dragged into the kitchen and taking little care Mulder turned on the tap and forced his head under it. The ice cold water made him jump, but Mulder held him firmly under as he struggled and spit and cursed, until he apparently thought Alex had got enough and released him. When Alex re-emerge he handed him a kitchen towel and then he just stood with his hands crossed over his chest and looked at him. "Now, go home." Alex knew that was not a good thing, so he decided to protest. "No, please. Let's...I..." Seeming to have anticipated that Mulder just nodded. "Okay, you can sleep in the bed then." And before Alex knew it, he was finally in Mulder's bed. Only he was in there alone. Alex woke up to a throbbing headache, the smell of pancakes from the kitchen and surprise at the fact that it was well past noon. As he staggered up, Mulder greeted him cheerfully in the kitchen. "Morning." He offered him a plate stacked with pancakes and Alex took it, hesitantly but hungrily, and then there was a silence as Mulder puttered around the kitchen and Alex chewed and watched him. "Mulder," he said finally getting that Mulder was not going to bring it up, "listen, about last night..." "Don't worry about it." "But I want to explain..." "Some other time, okay. Let's just eat." There was a finality in Mulder's voice that Alex didn't want to argue with. He looked down on his plate and ate is pancakes and wondered how he had got into this situation and how he would get out of it with his dignity. He decided he probably couldn't. When breakfast was finished, Alex wondered if he ought to leave. He realised the night before had been a definite bad move, and that he probably had to face the fact that he had not managed 'the task', and now he had new problems. Staying alive, for example. He wasn't sure what the Consortium would do once they realised his limited usefulness in the Mulder department from now on, but he was sure it was not going to get him upwards on the ladder anyway. It would possibly even get him further down then he was able to climb back up from. It might possibly make him dead. "Alex." It took a few moments for the soft word and the source of the equally soft voice to register. Then he looked up and saw Mulder standing by the fridge looking at him. He was holding out a glass of milk, and had probably been doing so for a while. Alex smiled in what he hoped was a bashful way. "No, thanks." "Go on, it's good with pancakes and hangover." He actually smiled for real then. "Not as good as coffee." "Now that is no way to live past thirty." It was funny, considering his situation. He could probably drink all the milk in the world and still not be able to guarantee living past thirty. He felt a strange warmth suddenly as he accepted the glass. "Okay, I'll have a sip." "Do you want to stay for a while?" The sip didn't reach his stomach but followed the gulp of air he couldn't help taking, and ended up in his left lung instead. Mulder caught the glass before it hit the tiles, and watched Alex coughing fit with a frown. "You okay?" "Yes," Alex rasped, and shook his head. He got a few helpful pats on the middle of the back as he got through the attack, at which time they both realised Mulder was behind him and he was bending over, which caused Alex to flinch away and Mulder to smile broadly. Alex realised his mistake when it was too late. The frown on Mulder's forehead spoke volumes. "Sorry," he said and there was sudden ice in his voice. "Didn't mean to scare you." Alex tried to think quickly. "It's not that, I just didn't think you wanted me to stay because of last night and stuff." "Okay." But the moment was gone, Mulder was back by the fridge and Alex cursed his own reflexes. He had basically had him. And he had screwed up, again. You stupid fuck! He drew his hand through his hair and couldn't help but let out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Mulder," he said, the sincerity in his voice not completely faked. "I know I am acting really weird. It's just so complicated." "Why?" Because I am a bad person, and you are not and I don't really want your cock anywhere near me, but I would still let you put it anywhere to get what I want. And that is just half of it. "Because I have had some bad experiences." "Oh?" Mulder regarded him for a few moments and then seemed to realise what he was hinting at. "Oh." "Yeah. I didn't mean to put it on you, but...you know. I'm sorry." Something in Mulder's eyes went soft, and Alex couldn't help but feel touched by the gentle concern. He wanted to look away, but forced himself to stay focused. "Anyway, it has nothing to do with you, I promise." "Want to tell me about it?" God, he wasn't sure he could do that. He had never been a good story-teller and he had no real experiences of gay sex to draw from. But Mulder expected something from him, otherwise he would shake his hand and make them go back to being nothing more than FBI-agents again. He reached for something, anything, and wasn't even sure what he was going to say even as he opened his mouth. "I'm catholic." Alex felt almost as surprised as Mulder looked as the statement hit air. He groaned inwardly. Catholic? He could have said that he had been raped, molested as a child, cheated on, bullied at the academy, anything. But no, instead he was now a catholic. He wondered if he should start praying. By the fridge, Mulder was still looking perplexed but trying hard not to show it. "You are?" was all he seemed to be able to think of replying. Alex made a twisted grin and nodded. "Yes. My family is from Poland and I didn't really have a choice." Great, now he was apparently also a Russian orthodox catholic. Why didn't he just go all the way and say he was hoping to be the next pope. "Well, as you can understand there's just a lot of guilt and...stuff. It's just hard to deal with." To his relief, Mulder finally seemed to have composed himself, because he nodded understandingly and there was genuine concern in his voice when he spoke again. "Have you always had problems being gay then?" Alex silently thanked the psychologist in front of him as he nodded grimly. "Yes. It always starts out well and then... well, usually I just start drinking. As you found out yesterday." "Does your family know?" "No." Alex thought about all the foster families he'd had, but he couldn't remember any of them being catholic. He went for the safe option. "I don't think they do." "You know, therapy can help with guilt and such." Alex couldn't help but smile a little. If he told his problems to a shrink he would have to kill him afterwards. He suppressed the amusement and looked down on the floor. "I don't know. I'm not sure that would help." When he looked up he knew he had the saddest look in his eyes. "Maybe I'll just have to live with it." Not surprisingly, Mulder couldn't help but melt all over the floor. "Oh, Alex." He put a soothing hand on his arm, and not too long after Alex was pressed against his shirt and he could have cheered because he was suddenly back to winning again. "Mulder, I'm so sorry." He managed a sob, and held on to the other man. Mulder stroked his back soothingly. "It's okay, I understand." Alex knew it was time, so he lifted his head and looked deep into the hazel eyes gazing back into his own. "But I really, really want you, Mulder." Then he leaned closer and their lips brushed against each other. Kissing while sober is always a much different experience and Alex felt a small tingle in his stomach, as he remained still, letting Mulder draw back only to repeat the tentative kiss again. "Alex." The man in his arms said softly, not quite a question, but near enough, so Alex answered "it's okay, Mulder, please," and was kissed again. Longer, with more intensity, and quite overwhelming. He gripped the ledge of the counter for support, and hoped Mulder would think it was lust buckling his knees. It was weird, but it was not as weird as he had imagined, and after so long of thinking about this and him it was actually a relief to finally be doing it. Alex gripped strands of soft hair and parted his lips even more, feeling almost a sense of pride at the groan in reply. Then, just as he started relaxing, thinking that maybe this was okay, this was doable, Mulder pulled away again. He uncurled Alex's fingers from his hair and looked him deep in the eyes. "Want to tell me what is really going on here?" A cold chill went straight through Alex at the words, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the beginning of a real-actual-couldn't-pretend-a-better-one erection shrink back down again. "W...what do you mean?" He knew his voice sounded shrill, but couldn't do anything about it with Mulder's unnerving gaze so close. "Is something wrong?" "Well, this feels like granite." Mulder squeezed Alex shoulder and gave him a meaningful look. "As much of a good sign that would be somewhere else, being stiff there usually means you are doing something you are not completely comfortable doing." Fuck people who read people. Who actually care. Alex had wished the heat on his cheeks could have dulled at least some of Mulder's perception. "Why, Mulder," he tried to hide the nervous twitch forming around his mouth by smiling and coughing a little. "I am just a bit...I mean, it's you...I am just worried that you won't, you know, think I'm any good." God, he was there in another man's arms blushing and obsessing about how good in bed he would be. That Spender man had really got him to steep low this time. He better compensate him for this one, or he would show him what humiliation really meant. In front of him Mulder still looked calm, but unmoved. "I'm sorry," he tried and reached up to pull the agent towards him again, to get back on track with what he had started. And he had to admit it wasn't solely about his orders anymore. There was a new thrill in standing in an FBI-agents kitchen trying to make him go out of his mind. The press of flesh reminding him of other, less gentle deeds. He realised he was starting to get turned on. So, he would fuck Mulder, so what? He would do it, and he would do it well. He would have the man eating out of his hand by the end of the weekend and it would just be one more thing to file under things he succeeded at. Damn, but he was good. The best. Suddenly he felt energised, wicked and quite horny, actually. He felt the other man shift, and held on tighter, groaning into his neck. "I can't believe it, Mulder, I have wanted this for so long, you can't imagine." "Good, then you don't mind waiting another few days, huh?" He froze. What? "What?" "I think we should take it slow." "Why?" He looked up from the soft fabric and the accusing look was genuine. Mulder met his eyes seriously. "Because I think you're nice, Alex, but I don't jump into bed with people I work with on a whim. This is complicated stuff, we should think about what we are about to do. If it's worth it." "If it's worth it?" His vanity nerve took a hard blow and he just stared at Mulder, real blushing now from silent rage. He didn't know if he was worth it? Who the hell did he think he was? With effort he scrambled for the green, vulnerable agent inside him and managed a smile perfectly balanced between shyness and wanting. "Okay, I think you're right. Sorry." "That's okay, Alex." Mulder stroked Alex face gently, but took a step back from the counter they were leaning on. "Maybe you should go now and I'll see you tomorrow, and perhaps after work we can go somewhere and talk." Alex fisted his hands and gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. "Sounds good." They never got to do it. Duane Barry got between them, and Alex told himself that the sting of disappointment he felt was because he did not have the chance to prove to himself that he could actually get Mulder if he wanted. The arrogant bastard did not know what he missed, he told himself and the first opportunity that presented itself he slept with a man. Just to get it out of his system. Just to master yet another skill. Just to fuck. Soon he learned not to dwell on things that were of no importance to 'the cause'. He learned to master that skill even better. Part II
Mulder squeezed the cup of coffee he was holding so hard he was surprised it didn't shatter in his hand. "What the hell?" He could only stare in disbelief at the sight that greeted him across the other end of the departure hall. Alex Krycek was strolling across the floor, perhaps a bit warily, but still inappropriately as if he had every right to do so even though he was a murderer and thief who could now add international traitor to his list of merits. Leaving Hong Kong, are we? Mulder thought bitterly. Figured you had left enough bodies behind? Well, there is one less then you think, pal. He clenched his jaw and put the cup back down without drinking it. He had suddenly lost his taste for coffee. Now all he was thirsting for was Krycek's blood. The fight was short and sweet. Krycek came up, BAM, he took one to the face, BAM, he was up again, challenging as usual and, BAM, Mulder didn't think this was the day he would grant Krycek's wish and they were going to do this right. That meant get back to D.C., get the tape and go to jail, well, one of them at least. "Go in and clean up. If you are not out in five minutes, I am coming in to kill you." Alex obeyed him, well, he didn't have much choice, and when he came out again Mulder had the sweet task of cuffing him and manhandling him to the plane leaving for Washington. On the aeroplane Mulder made up for his deserted cup of coffee and ordered three. Admittedly, it was not completely for the taste. It was night time and he wanted to keep awake, partly because he didn't trust Krycek wasn't a master at picking handcuff-locks, and partly because he was awake, hardly blinking in fact, and looking...strange. Usually Krycek's face was a virtual display of emotions, but now he was just staring calmly ahead where he sat in the window seat, his face unreadable and placid. It made Mulder uncomfortable and he started downing the coffees to make sure he stayed awake. "Why don't you take your chance to sleep?" The words came out a little too high-pitched, frantic, and he cringed at the sound. "You know, while you don't have a room mate jerking off in the bunk below you." He added for good measure. Krycek turned to him, tilted his head slightly, but didn't answer. Meeting his gaze, Mulder felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand out as the green eyes fixed on him, dark and intense, burning holes in his skin. He managed to casually shrug. "You're choice." He had to actually clear his throat to get the words out. "You have nine hours of freedom left, spend them however you want." Krycek looked about to say something, then just blinked once, twice, and then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Mulder breathed out, but still found himself unable to relax. He did not know why, but he was feeling very uncomfortable. Something about Krycek was very unnerving, what he could not pinpoint exactly. He supposed being a fugitive in Hong Kong must affect a man, but there was something more than that. Krycek looked haggard, fair enough, and like he had not slept for a fortnight, but the psychologist in him was not satisfied that was the whole answer. The voice in itself was enough to set off warning bells in his head, and he rubbed his hands over his eyes, noticing how sweaty they were. He threw a glance at his watch. Eight hours and 20 minutes until landing. When the stewardess came by he stopped her and asked for a coke, no, make that a vodka and coke, no, wait, make that a double. He refused to feel guilty. He deserved a drink. He was worried about work, he was jet-lagged, he had almost been killed, what man would not be a bit edgy. He just needed to forget about Krycek, who was after all restrained and apparently resigned to his fate, and besides, eight hours was plenty of time to get alcohol out of the system enough to be able to drive. The thought of the hour and a half drive in the darkness alone with that dark, silent presence next to him, made him shudder. He glanced over at the window seat. Krycek was still leaning back with his eyes closed, but whether he was asleep or not was hard to tell. He estimated how long before Krycek should have nodded off, trying to detect the pattern of steady, deep breaths that would indicate sleep. He finished his drink, not taking his eyes off the unmoving figure, then finally he bent forward and put his ear to Krycek's chest. "Anything the matter?" The voice right by his ear made him almost jump out of his own skin. Startled he drew back to find the emerald eyes regarding him calmly. It took him a few seconds to collect himself, then he made what he attempted to be a disapproving frown. "So you are not asleep then." "No." The level gaze didn't change. He swallowed. "That's what I thought." "Yes." Silence ensued, and Mulder itched to grab Krycek's head and bang it against the window shouting "talk, you sonofabitch, be mad at me, act like your own pathetic self, for fuck's sake." But he restrained himself, and instead looked away and gestured to a stewardess. "Can I have another double vodka and coke," he ordered, and the he had an idea. "Do you have any sedatives? He," he indicated to Krycek, "is a bit nervous about flying at night." Then he had another thought. "Oh, and listen," he lowered his voice and quickly flashed his badge, "could I have a double dose?" She paled slightly and threw a quick look at Krycek, sitting straight up, his expression unchanged although he must have heard what was being said, and again Mulder had to stave an urge to start pounding a reaction out of the triple agent. Soon the stewardess returned with three small pills, and Mulder handed them over with a single order, preparing to have to force them down the brown-haired guy's throat, actually looking forward to doing just that, but Krycek only looked uninterested at the tablets, then he put them in his mouth and swallowed. "Right, that should have you snoring in no time," he concluded, mostly to himself, and then he reached for his drink again. And I will let a few more of these gently guide me to blissful peace of mind, and that will be this strange flight over with. He watched Krycek shrug and lay back again, but he didn't close his eyes. Mulder sipped the vodka, and waited. And waited. Plenty of time passed and he knew the pills must have started working, but Krycek still did not seem any closer to falling asleep. The oxygen-thin air and his own tiredness started giving results and he felt a familiar feeling forming behind his ears, and when he turned for the umpteenth time to check the status of the man beside him, the surrounding did not move completely synchronised with his eyes. Good old reliably alcohol never let you down, however, he had hoped that Krycek next to him would be asleep by the time his own medicine kicked in. He had a sudden flash of another occasion with the two of them and alcohol. He brushed it off irritated. There were a few times when he had wondered about that time. Whether it had all been just another part of the deception. He was pretty sure that was the case. After all, that was probably why he had interrupted it himself that night, his sixth sense telling him there was something off about it. He had thanked his lucky star that he had, once the betrayal was all revealed, and then he had gone out to sleep with the first guy he could. First time in years. Fucked his mind back on track. Laughed in the face of the memory of Krycek over the shoulder of the man who's bed he had jumped into. It had been the best sex he had ever had. Then his thoughts were interrupted by a more urgent realisation. He seriously had to go to the bathroom. Soon. That's what you get for having alcohol on top of coffee, he cursed silently to himself, as he bit his lip and tried to decide what to do. As little as he wanted to take Krycek with him to the bathroom, he wanted even less to set him free. There were other people to think about, after all. He made his decision and began to stand up, pushing his jumper expectantly on to the black denim-clad lap next to him. "Come on." Krycek obeyed silently. Not whining, not complaining, not snorting arrogantly. Only hid his handcuffed wrists with the jumper and followed Mulder to the toilets. It was a big flight, the toilets were located in between decks and out of sight, and no one came to protest as Mulder pushed in the other man and shut the door behind them. The small cubicle did not invite modesty, and Mulder steeled himself, as he pulled down his zipper and tried to be quick. He could feel Krycek's body behind him, leaning against the small washbasin as best he could, and felt very vulnerable and exposed. Getting drunk had seemed like a perfectly good option, but now, faced with Krycek's presence he wished he had just a few more sense under control. "I have one hand on my gun, so don't try anything," he muttered, then realised the witty reply he had left himself open for, and sighed, only to frown when none came. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he finally said, unable to take it any longer. "Why are you suddenly acting like this?" "What am I acting like?" came the slow, steady voice behind him. He zipped up again and manoeuvred around to reach the soap and water, and suddenly found himself face to face, and uncomfortably close to the man pressed against the door behind him. In the dim light his green eyes looked deeper and darker than normal as they fixed on his own, and Mulder had to catch his breath as he felt a his pulse quickening under the uncomfortable scrutiny. Up close, Krycek's unreadable hard face almost scared him. He had also never seen him look so beautiful before. Perfect. Too perfect. He swallowed thickly. "You haven't hardly said a word the whole trip, you keep staring at me, and..." he exhaled to try to get the panicked edge out of his voice, and his own breath bouncing off the other man's lips and back on to his own made him only too aware of how close they really were. He moved to back away and froze as the movement made the erection he hadn't even noticed he had got, brush against the fabric in his pants, sending electric jolts up through his stomach. There was a brief second when he only stared down at himself, then he quickly lifted his gaze, but too late. Krycek's intense eyes were already fixed on the bulge in his jeans, and when he looked up again he had a knowing expression and the slightest hint of a smirk around his mouth. "I see." His voice was a soft breath, and Mulder jerked back as hands reached for his face, but the small cubicle allowed for no escape. "Get off, you fu -" then he gasped as his head was tipped backwards and Krycek licked his neck, slowly, slowly, all the way from the base of his throat up to his chin. "Jesus." The hot wet tongue burned against his skin, and for a moment, all Mulder could do was clasp the shoulders pressing up against him and hold on as the sudden quickening of his heartbeats sent his alcohol-induced blood surging through his veins. Involuntarily, he leaned after the touch of lips as they retreated back again, only to forget that and anything else as soon as their hips made contact. In front of him, Krycek leaned against the door and, without faltering in his steady gaze on Mulder's face, pulled him closer to rub their groins together. Mulder was surprised he managed to keep upright as white hot flashes of incredible pleasure spiked his brain. "What do you think you are doing?" The words would have sounded harsher if they had not been mumbled into Krycek's shoulder, and Mulder was only too aware that he was doing something he might have resisted had he been sober. The thought fuelled his anger, and he pressed even harder in between the legs that spread accommodatingly to allow him access. He knew somewhere inside that this was crazy—more than that, it was stupid, wrong and dangerous, but then the handcuffs scraped across his face as Krycek tried for leverage, and the reminder turned his concerns into a wild chorus of yes, yes, yes, oh god, yes. His head was spinning with sensations and responses, all uninvited, all incredible. Was this what Alex was like, was this what he had been like all along, so hard and hot and tasting so good. How could this be? How could this be him? Because it's not. The thought, like a slap in the face, hit him suddenly, sharply, broke through the furious hammering of his body and his mind, making him freeze mid-thrust and stiffen. It's not him. Feeling suddenly cold, he lifted his head and looked at the face only inches from his own. The familiar face stared back at him. Krycek's face. Krycek's eyes. No mistake there. Why does it feel that way? Allowing himself to recognise the feeling that had nagged him the whole plane ride, he thought quickly back. Since the airport. Since...since he had left him alone in the bathroom. He had come out different. But a difference not completely unfamiliar to Mulder, and somewhere inside he knew. Oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god. In front of him, Krycek's head lifted and Krycek's green eyes met his questioningly. Mulder felt the room starting to spin as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts. "Krycek..." "Are you alright in there, sir?" The voice of the stewardess suddenly rang through the small cubicle, breaking the heavy silence, and releasing Mulder's frozen limbs. Remembering how to breathe again, he drew in a deep breath and shook himself back into life. Calm, must stay calm. "Yeah." Dropping the armful of Krycek he was holding, he quickly took a step back. "Fine. Don't worry, it's all under control." He looked from the man in front of him, and prayed that the sweat he could feel trickling down his back did not show in his eyes. "Right, Krycek, I think we should go back to our seats now." You don't know for sure. You're drunk, you're imagining. In front of him, Krycek peered at him coolly and nodded. "If that's what you want." Then he just pried himself from the wall and turned around. Mulder looked at the back moving under the leather jacket as they walked the small isle back to their seats. I'm not that drunk. Once seated again, he ordered a coffee. He noticed his hands were shaking slightly as he lifted the cup to his lips, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Krycek leaning back against the window, like he had before. Mulder hoped it meant he was going to go back to being passive and silent. Maybe the pills had finally kicked in. Maybe he would go to sleep. Carefully, as not to disturb the man by his side, he looked over, only to stare directly into a calm, cold gaze. He inhaled sharply. The window had the curtains pulled over it and against the dark red fabric, Krycek's green eyes seemed almost black. III "Get out! It is one thing to have to look at you at work but in my own apartment." Mulder contemplated throwing the cup of steaming, hot coffee he was holding at the tall dark-haired guy standing in his doorframe. He still couldn't believe it. Skinner, Skinner, had just showed Krycek into his office that morning as if murderous triple-agents usually got a chance to explain themselves by the FBI. Granted he was in some pretty impressive company, but Marita had been on the suspicion list for years, she was no guarantee Krycek would behave. It had been a hell of a day. Scully had been upset, and he hated seeing her upset. Skinner had been uptight, and that was almost worse. Even Langley had been subdues and edgy. The only people who had seemed completely unaffected had been Krycek and Marita, and that was the really irritating bit as they should rightfully be the ones most out of their element. He wondered briefly if the two were screwing and then wondered why he wondered that. Now Alex was standing outside his door, looking as if he expected Mulder to beat him but determined to get into his apartment afterwards. "I need to talk to you." "You have talked to me, thank you. I am packing and then I will take your advice and then you should be happy. Don't push it." He was about to slam the door, but Krycek put a foot between the wall and frame. "I don't particularly want to come here knocking either," he said icily but with a pleading somewhere in it, "but I need to talk to you." Mulder let out a snort. "About?" Krycek only shook his head quickly. "Let's go for a drink." He mouthed one word. Bugs. "You're kidding. I don't have time, okay." "Suit yourself." He gave Mulder a look, turned and left. "Shit." Mulder swore and grabbed his jacket. "Shit." He closed the door behind him and hurried after the dark Armani jacket. Shit, shit, shit. The bar they went into was not very nice, but it was not very bad either. Krycek ordered two beers and they took a table. Then he looked seriously at Mulder who sullenly stared back. "What is it then?" Krycek watched him for a few more moments, and his voice was low when he spoke. "There is something you should know concerning the smoking man." Mulder didn't follow suit. "Yeah?" He shrugged. "Spit it out." Krycek was quiet for a time, watching Mulder over the table. Mulder took a deep swig of his beer and estimated his company. He did not know why, but he had had a strange feeling all day, a creepy, worried feeling that there was something he was overlooking and that this something might come to cost him dearly. It made him edgy. I was good to have a catalyst perhaps. "Well, tell me then," he demanded, unimpressed. Krycek peered calmly at him over the table. "We have to decide what's in it for me." "Screw you." "Mulder..." "S-c-r-e-w you." Something passed over Krycek's eyes and his mouth hardened suddenly. Mulder took another deep swig of beer, and enjoyed the view. Making Krycek mad was sweet. After a day of basically taking orders from him it was practically required for his mental health. "You seriously think I am here to do you favours." Mulder wondered if Krycek could read his mind. It was a possibility, after all that went on with both of them. Well, read this then, Mulder thought and noticed he was almost through his whole bottle. "I don't know, but I am definitely not here to do you any favours, so why don't we just forget it right now." He waved at a waitress. "Excuse me, could I have a whiskey, please." When he turned back to Krycek he was watching him with a quizzical look in his green eyes. "Scully driving tomorrow then?" Mulder didn't bother answering that. He was still feeling odd, and it was only partly because of the company he held. He couldn't seem to hold his hands still as he tried to sort through what could be causing this anxiety. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." "Whiskey?" He had decided that a good distraction from his problem filled mind would be to drive Krycek out of his mind. He resented the stern control he was displaying at the moment. He knew how important it was to the guy. Control. It bothered him that it had always been about his abandonment. He had said no to Krycek, sure, but he had been willing to give in, they both knew that, and Krycek had got away with it having been careful manipulation. And Krycek had instigated it on the plane, but it had not been him, really, and Mulder's response, however brief, had been unmistakable. It was humiliating and unfair. It was about control and Krycek sure had had far too much of that already. He also had a temper, Mulder had seen hints of it on occasion, and now he decided it was time to use it against him. It was a good plan. He smiled at the waitress as she brought him his order. "Cheers." He raised his glass to Krycek with a mocking face, actually wishing the man could read his mind. Krycek only frowned slightly, his fingers curled around his own bottle, but not drinking it. "So, I hear Scully hasn't been feeling too good lately." Mulder's chest tightened. Okay, so he knew what buttons to press, that was for sure. And he was looking so damn stubborn, so damn professional as he sat staring at him across the table, seeing what effect his statement would have on him. Mulder wanted to see just a small tear, just a tiny little one, that he would have caused. He chose to shrug and order another drink. "Yeah. Don't tell me, it's you're fault again." There was a short silence. "There is a lot more at stake here than you think." The jitters had started to be replaced by alcohol, but he still felt them in the back of his consciousness. He had been right. Sweeping his drink, he shuddered only partly from the bitter warmth hitting his stomach. "Yeah." "You'll want to hear this." "And what do you want?" "Just some access." "Subtle, but not subtle enough." Krycek shrugged. "I just want things to go smoothly. And so do you. Let's not get hung up on personal differences." That was almost funny. The guy had used seduction to get what he wanted and now he was accusing Mulder of being 'personal'. "There is a mass surge of abductions, this time we have a spaceship, we know where it is and we know roughly how long it's going to be there. You can't afford not giving me a chance." "I gave you a chance in Tunguska. You screwed me over. End of chances." He signalled for the waitress. "Could I just have a bottle, please." He poured another generous amount in his glass and peered at Krycek over the table. He was feeling a bit better, the alcohol dulling his sixth sense, and making the frustrating jitters go away. In front of him, Krycek was talking again. "The way I see it, we have a lot of common goals that we..." "Getting any lately, Krycek?" Krycek blinked a couple of times, then apparently decided to ignore the impromptu question. "I think it is in both our interests to help each other." "Is that a no then?" Krycek flinched slightly, but composed himself. "Something might...change in the near future concerning..." He broke off and looked down on his hand resting across the table. Then his mouth hardened again. "Are you going to grant my request?" Mulder raised his glass to him. "I am getting plenty, thanks for asking. I'm bedding everyone I can. Not saying no to anyone ever, oh, except for that one time. With you, remember. Wasn't that lucky." Krycek flinched again, then looked away in disgust. "Stop that," he said. "Stop what?" "Stop drinking." "Tell me, if I had let you blow me, would you not have done what you did?" He licked the whiskey from his lips and enjoyed the way Krycek's eyes narrowed. "Damnit, Mulder, you'll want to hear what I have to say. Trust me." Mulder gave a harsh laugh. "Trust you? Oh, please, say that again. It was almost worth it seeing you again to hear those words from your lips. Go on." He leaned over the table. "Say it." When he was so close to Krycek he could feel the other man's breath on his face, he tilted his head some and made a show out of sniffing him. "Is that tobacco I smell? Have you taken up smoking, Krycek? Or is it from your dying sugar daddy? I guess that answers my question of whether you have got laid lately, huh. Congratulations, he is quite a catch." Krycek gone completely still and as Mulder leaned back with a smirk he shook his head, his exterior calm but his green eyes blazing. "Okay, Mulder," he said then, his voice suddenly hard. "I didn't want to blow you. I thought it might be a smart move. You almost fell for it but lucked out by due to timing. Now can we go back to talking about tomorrow?" "You were hard as a rock, though." "Shut up." "You were. I could feel it. And I bet you were hard for me when we were in that cell as well. And in my apartment. Is kissing on the cheek Russian for "fuck me, please"." "Don't do this, Mulder." Mulder knocked back the whiskey, his third or fourth, in one go, Then he grabbed the bottle, stood up, leaned over the table until he was only inches from the dark-haired man's face. "What about when you killed my father, Krycek. Were you hard then? I bet you were." It took almost half a minute until he heard steps behind him. "Mulder." He stopped and let Krycek catch up. The triple agent's eyes were dark as he stopped a few steps away from him. "You are really going to be that stupid, then?" he said. Keeping his distance. Afraid to lose his temper. Mulder knew he had him. "Well, we already know I am stupid. Saying no to someone on his knees begging to suck me off. Well, I don't need to tell you that, because, hey, it was you." He got a hard push in the chest. Happy he had managed to find one of Krycek's buttons he only took a few unsteady steps back, and then he turned. "Thank you, that was nice. Now, if you don't mind I am going home and then I hope I never see you again." He started walking, fully intent on doing exactly that. "He is closer to death than you think." He stopped suddenly and turned back. Krycek was looking a bit crest-fallen, blinking silently at Mulder who stared back. Had Krycek just given him something for free? Was it another trick. One look at him told Mulder it had been more of a desperate slip than any calculated manipulating. He took a half step towards the man. "How close?" But Krycek was pressing his lips together, regarding Mulder with a stubborn look. "I am not going to give you access, Krycek." "Someone else might be in danger as well." "Who?" "How bad do you want to know?" "How badly do you want to tell me?" The worrying thing was that the urgent need in Krycek's eyes to tell him indicated that it might be himself who was in danger. Mulder swallowed. "I can't give you access." There was a pause as Krycek's eyes grew even more intense, then something seemed to pass over them and he just nodded tiredly. "Then...then I can't help you." He looked suddenly resigned, weary, and as he turned to leave, Mulder watched his tense back, his fisted hands and his strident steps. He had understood the look, and his chest tightened at the thought. "Hey." He started after the disappearing figure. "Wait." At the words Krycek turned back. "What, Mulder?" "Is it me?" They were standing closer than they had been all evening. Krycek's face was still stoic, so Mulder kissed him. Quickly, but hard. Drunkenly, but with determination. Surprising both of them. "Is it me, Alex?" he whispered again, his lips still brushing against the other man's. He could feel the body against him shuddering, then tensing. "Fuck, Mulder," was all he said. Then he suddenly reached out, grabbed the bottle from Mulder's hand and quickly put it to his lips. Mulder found he could only stare at him. Jesus, the guy hardly made a face gulping down an amount that Mulder wasn't even sure he would have been able to keep down. When he handed back the bottle with a dark look his mouth had a sticky wetness around it and Mulder felt himself suddenly completely mesmerised by the soft, perfectly curved lips. "Kiss me," he whispered. "Now. Kiss me." Krycek looked up at him, and Mulder licked his own lips involuntarily, and this seemed to trigger something in the other man because suddenly Krycek attacked. He tackled him low and Mulder grunted and then gasped and enjoyed the alcohol getting a new surge as they tumbled into some containers lining the small alleyway. The fight was sharper, edgier, than usual. He was hot and hard and dizzy as they spun, crashing into the stone wall and landing behind the dumpsters. It seemed that Krycek had finally lost his temper. He was cursing and spitting and biting and kicking, Mulder found he could do little to defend himself against the feline attack pinning him down. He reckoned he should feel proud. This was what he had wanted, what he had aimed for. Not being torn to pieces while being flat on his back on the ground, perhaps, but to be able to pierce through Krycek's precious self-control. "Jesus," he gasped out as Krycek's teeth made contact with his cheek, having time to think that it was lucky the whiskey would probably help clean the wound, while trying to stave off the savage attack. Then he managed to push Krycek's face down a bit and when the mouth latched on to his neck the biting was suddenly different. "Jesus, Krycek," he repeated, meaning it to be a warning, an objection, but the pulsating in his ears had reached his groin and involuntarily his hips thrust forward. "No, I...shit." He got no room to finish the sentence as Krycek bit him again, just below the ear, and then the feel of his wet tongue sent Mulder's thoughts scattering over the ground and his whiskey-flavoured blood straight down to his groin. It could be another trick, another way of using his dick to get what he wanted, but Mulder doubted it somehow. He didn't think Krycek was conscious enough at the moment to be that manipulative, and besides, at that point he didn't give a shit. There was not a single part of their bodies that wasn't touching and Krycek could have been wearing a microphone and tape-recorder and pointed at a camera in the corner, and Mulder still wouldn't have stopped. He was so hard and drunk and had been teased for so long and goddamnit he had been so scared all day and nothing helped but the taste and smell and feel and heat of Krycek's body against him. Quickly he rolled them over, and he ground was cold and the alcohol and arousal and fear melted together and he closed his eyes and didn't even try to fight it as he started thrusting hard, relentlessly, just to get himself a bit higher, a bit closer. When he looked down, Krycek had turned his face away and was pressing his lips together as if resenting what was happening, and Mulder might have believed it if his eyes hadn't been so dazed and his fists on Mulder's hips hadn't kept clasping and unclasping as they drove into each other. He felt a sense of wonder and menace, Krycek has given up... Krycek... Alex wants this so much he has given up, and he reached down and grabbed strands of brown hair and pushed the quiet man's head back roughly. "This what you want?" he demanded and got off on asking it. No way would Krycek be able to pretend it wasn't real afterwards. "Tell me. Is this what you want?" Krycek still avoided meeting his eyes, but his neck arched into the brusque grasp, and Mulder took that as an affirmation. He let out a victorious grunt. "Want to fuck? Huh?" Then his fists involuntarily tightened in the dark hair. "If something's really going to happen to me tomorrow, don't you want just one last, hot fuck right now?" The body underneath him went suddenly still and when he looked down to meet the green eyes there was so much pain in them for a moment that he was taken aback. "Fuck you, Mulder." The voice was a hiss, a low rasping sound. "I couldn't care less about you, you son-of-a-bitch." And then Krycek kissed him, and there was a desperation in it, and Mulder thought he could hear him whispering fucking sonofabitch, and the words sent jolts of panic through him, making him push harder as the kisses deepened and then suddenly he heard a loud groan and the arms around his neck tightened and teeth bit into his lips as Krycek came hard, shuddering in his arms. Mulder hardly noticed his own orgasm, as he closed his eyes, moaned and bit back. They lay still for a long, long time. Panting and not letting go, the embrace painfully hard. Mulder felt dazed and weary and wondered if he could open Krycek's jeans and lick the sticky seed there, but he decided letting go of Krycek's body might be a bit more than he was capable of. "I'm glad you finally lost control," he mumbled, resting his forehead against the flushed face in front of him and his hands on the now unmoving hips. Krycek only reply was a long shudder. Their mouths kept brushing together. "Your lips are so beautiful." Mulder was far too tired to care. The light brushing quickly became deep and needy again. "You son-of-a-bitch," Krycek said. They went home to Mulder's place and fucked the whole night. Up against the wall in the hall, not even taking care to do more than unzipping their jeans as they went down on each other. On the couch, Shirts undone, jeans around their ankles, Krycek coming all over the upholstery hardly three thrusts after Mulder had entered him. On the bed, naked now, taking a little more time as Krycek did him slow but hard, making Mulder take leverage against the head-post, wondering if there was any way of making it last forever. He fell asleep with Krycek collapsed on his chest, still inside him, and woke up again at dawn by the furious ringing of the telephone. "Yeah." His voice was hoarse, rasping against his sore throat, and he wondered if he looked about the same as he sounded. Sick. Disgusting. Thoroughly fucked. "Mulder? Are you ready to go?" It was Skinner's voice. He looked at the sleeping form of Krycek next to him. He looked at the few things he had packed. He looked around the apartment. "Yeah," he said. "I guess I am."
Gender Bender
by Cappuccino
Alex had almost dropped his cup of complementary coffee when they had told him.
