Scully stared at him in stunned silence. There were red spots high on her
cheeks, and her mouth was a tight line. She waited.
"I kept thinking...," he stumbled blindly on with his confession. But no,
he hadn't been thinking at all, had he? He'd been lost in the sensation: down
on his knees before the man he hated, gripping the strong thighs in their tight
denim, mouth stretched wide around the man's thick cock, feeling the silky hot
skin on his tongue, tasting the drops of precum at the back of his throat.
"I kept thinking, if I did it, somehow it would change things."
As he'd knelt there, Krycek's fingers had run through his hair, stroking,
gripping, pulling Mulder's head closer, driving his cock further down Mulder's
throat. Mulder hadn't really known what he was doing—he'd gone mostly on
instinct, moving his mouth and tongue in ways that felt good to him,
remembering what felt good on his own cock, and letting Krycek's response guide
him: the squirming thrusts of his hips, the pleasured groans, the tightening of
his fingers in Mulder's hair.
Scully's mouth worked, as if swallowing the words she wanted to say, as if
tasting the enemy in her own mouth and finding it bad. "And did it?" she asked,
finally.
"Did it what?" He'd already lost the thread of what he was saying. On his
knees, he'd slid one arm around Krycek's waist, pulling him closer, burying his
face in the crisp hair at Krycek's crotch, and worked the other hand beneath to
cup Krycek's balls, squeezing and rolling them in his palm. He'd sucked
greedily, as if he was starving for it, swallowing the cock deeper into his
mouth.
"Did it change things?" Scully spoke patiently, but her patience was thin
and strained.
No, he wanted to say. Nothing had changed. He still hated him. Still wanted
him dead. But that would be a lie, and he couldn't lie to Scully. "Yes. I think
so. Maybe." Of course, he could still lie to Krycek. After he'd finished, after
he'd felt Krycek's cock swell and burst in his mouth, after he'd tasted the
hot, salty semen sliding down his throat, after Krycek had stiffened and thrust
up his hips, and then collapsed back onto Mulder's couch with a satisfied moan,
Mulder had stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and growled,
All right, you've had your fun. Now get out.
Krycek had also stood up. The look on his face had been strange, almost
stricken. He'd reached out for Mulder's arm. Mulder, he'd said, in that
soft, throaty voice, the one that made him sound so young and innocent. The one
in which he'd asked, How'd you sleep? all those years ago, back when he
was Mulder's partner, when Mulder had made the mistake of trusting him, when
he'd wanted to call him his friend.
But Mulder had turned away, brushing off the hand that reached out for him.
Still tasting Krycek's come in his mouth, his cock had burned like molten rock.
Just go.
"He's a dangerous man, Mulder. You can't trust him." Scully's disapproval
was hard on her face.
"I know," he said softly. What else was there to say?
Scully sighed deeply. "Why did you tell me this?" No doubt she would have
preferred not to know.
"I don't know. I...." He swallowed, still tasting it. Because I wanted
to do it, and I don't know why. Because I haven't been able to stop thinking
about it. Because if he came back right now, I'd do it again. "You're my
friend. I had to tell someone."
She nodded. "All right. What are you going to do about it?"
"I don't think there is anything I can do."
Scully offered a sad, reluctant smile, and put her hand on his arm. Her
hand he allowed to remain there. "Just be careful, Mulder."
"I will." But it was a hollow promise, where Alex Krycek was concerned.
As I sucked his cock, he thought, I was right where I wanted to
be. Where I'd always wanted to be. And I knew it.
end...
Taste of an
Enemy
by Cody Nelson
"As I sucked his cock...." Mulder stopped, face blazing, throat suddenly gone
dry. He shook his head in disbelief. Had he really just said that? Had he
really done that?
