He stretched, careful not to extend his right leg and ran his hand
down his chest and belly, vaguely wondering if he should go through
the effort of getting under the covers—decided it was too much of a
bother—and scratched the irritating pressure line where the
waistband of his shorts dug into him. He attempted to untie the knot
and loosen the waistline, but that proved too much for his drug-
numbed fingers and so he lifted his ass and took the damn things off.
Naked, he rubbed at the indentation lines a few more times and fell
asleep. Attuned to the hiccupping air conditioner, he did not come
awake when the door quietly opened and Mulder entered his room.
Mulder, gun out and hyper alert for an attack by the room's occupant,
was surprised to find a naked, sleeping Krycek sprawled on the bed
and oblivious to his entry. He surveyed the man, noted the angry,
newly stitched wound on Krycek's right leg and pill bottle on the
nightstand. Well, well, Mulder thought to himself, what do we have
here? He moved closer and took a long look at the bare body of his
nemesis.
Mulder noticed Krycek's gun had slid halfway out from beneath his
pillow. He holstered his own weapon and stealthily reached and
removed it. He slid it under the bed, not taking the chance that
ejecting the clip would make enough noise to wake the sleeping man.
He studied Krycek's face, his strong neck, smooth chest and
shoulders. The truncated left arm was a rude exclamation mark
compared to the rest of the beautiful form. Mulder shrugged his own
left shoulder and gazed at the tapered line of dark hair that ran
from his bellybutton to spread out luxuriously around his sleep-
softened sex and curl around his balls only to thin out into fuzz on
his outer thighs.
Krycek moaned softly in his sleep and wriggled slightly. Mulder
watched, as Krycek's cock grew fractionally tumescent and realized
either Krycek was having an erotic dream or experiencing the natural
ebb and flow of periodic sleep erections.
He knew Krycek was bi, he said so once when they'd been forced to
share a room on one of the few investigations they'd worked on
together. Mulder had said he wasn't and that had ended the
conversation and, he had to admit, any discernable interest from
Krycek. Nevertheless, deep in his secret fantasies, his libido had
indeed been interested, if unwilling, to explore this possibility
with the younger and not wholly trustworthy agent.
Now knowing what Krycek was and hating him for it, conversely, made
his interest burn hotter. He'd wanted Krycek at his mercy and
although he hadn't imagined this particular scenario, as he stood and
stared at the undeniably tempting figure on the bed, he began to
contemplate exactly what getting Krycek into that position consisted
of.
Mulder looked around the room. He had only one set of cuffs on him
and it would take more than that to secure Krycek to the bed. He
quietly dug around in the suitcase Krycek had dropped near the foot
of the bed. Other than a few changes of clothes, some toiletries and,
surprisingly, a copy of Smithsonian Magazine, the bag contained
little of interest or help.
Mulder looked around the rest of the room and then went into the
bathroom. He fingered the towels, but they were too thick for what he
had in mind. He returned to the bedroom, made sure Krycek was still
out, and searched his jacket. When he found the knife secured in a
side-seam, he knew he had what he needed. He took a towel and, as
quietly as possible, sliced it into four strips.
Keeping his gun handy, he secured the doped and sleeping man's right
foot to the bottom rail of the bed and then did the same with the
left. Mulder breathed a sigh of relief when he cuffed Krycek's right
arm to the headboard without difficulty.
Mulder took a step back from the bed and surveyed the sleeping man
once more. Now that he had him at his mercy, he was unsure what to do
with his power. He wasn't a rapist and rather thought that forcing
himself on Krycek was not the way to go. Both because it was the kind
of violence that made him as low as Krycek and because he wasn't
quite sure he could actually rape the man, although the thought of
making Krycek take it in the ass was very alluring. He wondered if
Krycek would beg him to stop, offer him information or try to make
some kind of a deal. The idea of a weeping Alex Krycek, pleading with
him and babbling secrets was intensely satisfying and fit into his
fantasies perfectly.
Mulder sighed soundlessly, he doubted Krycek would weep, beg or make
deals. He was much more likely to bite him or manage to knee him in
the balls or something. Krycek groaned and tried to stretch his
wounded leg. Mulder decided to improvise, he was sure Krycek would
wake as soon as he became uncomfortable and he had no real idea what
to do. If Krycek had information, it was in his head and not in the
room. Mulder pulled up the lone chair and sat near the bed on
Krycek's left side. He hoped Krycek would be very disturbed by the
state he found himself in and be amenable once he awoke. He trained
his gun on the sleeping man and waited.
Alex wet his lips, his mouth was very dry because of the meds and he
started to wake up, needing a drink. He tried to stretch his leg and
found it hampered. At first, he thought it was because of the
stitches, but soon became aware of his ankles tied to the bed. His
heart started to pound and he tried to move his other leg and then
his arm. Fuck! Fuck! He was drugged, naked and bound. He wondered who
had him this time and slowly opened his eyes.
He saw Mulder calmly aiming his gun right at his head and closed his
eyes again. How in the hell had Mulder found him? He was in Dallas,
for Pete's sake! Mulder was waiting silently, Alex thought this was a
bad sign; usually Mulder went right for beating, threats and
accusations. That he had managed to break in, tie him up and wait
patiently for him to wake told Alex that Mulder felt very securely in
charge. Moreover, Alex knew Mulder liked being in charge very much,
since it happened so seldom. He thought as quickly as his sluggish
brain allowed and decided to play it by ear. He opened his eyes.
They stared at one another.
Alex licked his lips again, he really needed a drink, but was damned
if he was going to start the negotiations by asking for anything.
Mulder realized Krycek's lips were chapped and dry. He probably
needed a drink real bad after sleeping with a slew of drugs in his
system. He probably needed to urinate too. Mulder felt a surge of
renewed power over the man. Denying a person his basic necessities
was one of the best places to start a siege. Mulder's conscience
whispered `torture', but he shrugged it away.
Mulder spoke first, "Krycek," he said shortly and slowly allowed his
eyes to drift over the naked man. He noted Krycek made an aborted
gesture to raise his leg and hide his groin. Mulder smiled
coldly, "Have a nice nap?"
Shit! Shit! Shit! Alex thought. Mulder is in rare form today. He
wanted a drink, wished he had his shorts on and realized this was the
first time Mulder would know he lost his arm. Alex steeled himself.
Despite everything, Mulder had followed his lead and gone to Weikamp.
That had to count for something. Mulder would have lots of questions.
Everything had gone to hell and Mulder would only have bits and
pieces of the whole picture.
Of course, Alex realized, he only had pieces of the picture himself.
Spender and Diana had survived the barbeque, young Spender and Marita
had made it out of the hospital, with his reluctant help. The alien
fetus and Cassandra Spender were back in rebel hands and that changed
the game.
With the fetus and Cassandra gone, there wasn't any advantage for the
human resistance to use to prevent more of the mass burnings by the
rebels. Basically, the rebels were as much of a threat now as the
colonizers were. Earth and humankind remained targets. The rebels
would continue cleaning up any vestige of the Purity Project, and
while that meant death to thousands instead of colonization of
millions, it was still an unsatisfactory possibility. Alex knew that
if the rebels didn't win the war against the colonizers, they would
have no compunction about annihilating the entire planet. If the
colonizers won, well that meant without the fetus and the Purity
experiments, they would simply use humans as incubators and to hell
with the slower, neater process of inoculation. Alex wished,
fervently, he knew if the Brit and Strughold had survived. If they
had, it was possible they had an ace or two up their sleeves.
He sighed. He knew Mulder meant to humiliate him by making a point of
his vulnerability. It was petty, but he was still human enough to
feel the sting of it. He didn't really believe Mulder would torture
him to death, but then again, it was a long way between being naked
and thirsty and all the things Mulder could do and yet not actually
kill him.
Mulder watched Krycek think. He clenched his hand around the gun and
wished he were strangling Krycek. His earlier carnal thoughts renewed
themselves. He felt them strongly and became aroused. He was suddenly
and uncomfortably aware that he was hard. The temptation to crush
Krycek's naked body with his own, to feel all that warm skin next to
his, and bite the reddened mouth was almost overwhelming. He took
several harsh shallow breaths and tried to calm down.
Krycek opened his eyes again and worried that Mulder's heightened
color and rapid breaths meant he was feeding his anger and that he
would launch a physical attack. "What do you want, Mulder?" Alex kept
his voice soft and even, hoping to calm the other man and get him
talking.
Mulder, surprised that Krycek spoke, opened his eyes wide and
couldn't resist a long sweeping gaze over Krycek's body once more.
Alex wondered what Mulder planned to do since he was studying his
body so thoroughly. In another time, place and situation, Alex
thought that kind of a look could mean he was attracted. But, Mulder
couldn't possibly mean anything like that. Mulder was as straight as
they come, as well as hating the very air that Alex breathed. It
wasn't within the realm of possibility that Mulder was having sexual
thoughts and much more likely that Mulder was trying to determine
which way to hurt him first.
When Mulder put his gun on the floor and reached out towards his
groin, Alex felt nothing but fear and braced himself for something
painful.
Mulder felt the compulsion to touch Krycek and slowly laid his gun
out of reach beneath his chair. He intended to grab Krycek's stump
and say something cutting, but his hand, seemingly of its own accord,
reached toward Krycek's sex instead.
When Alex felt Mulder's fingers tentatively grasp his penis, he
cringed further away. He really, really hadn't thought Mulder capable
of inflicting this kind of pain. He believed Mulder to be much more
up front and direct about hurting him. Break a rib or two with a hard
right or break his nose, were the kind of thing he expected. Alex
prayed, for the first time in ages. He prayed now when he hadn't
prayed for rescue in the silo or for a surgeon to reattach his arm.
He felt his throat choke and his heart stutter. God, he beseeched,
please don't let Mulder hurt me this way. Not Mulder, God, don't let
him do an act he cannot live with afterwards. Alex thought of all the
things Mulder had lived through and still kept on fighting, hoping,
and believing he was just. He knew that if Mulder went down this
path, he would never be clean again. Alex realized that somewhere in
the very depths of himself, he wanted Mulder to keep on fighting the
good fight. He wanted Mulder to win against impossible odds.
Alex twisted away as far as he could, "Please, Mulder!" He cried out
in a rough pleading voice, "Don't do this!"
Mulder paused; his bemused concentration with the texture of Krycek's
very soft and wilted penis between his fingers, broken by the hoarse
cry. He let go of Krycek's sex and looked at the man's face. Krycek
was pale with bright slashes of red on his cheeks. His eyes were wide
and terrified. Mulder met Krycek's eyes and Krycek turned his head
away and said, "Don't," very softly in a broken voice.
Power, thought Mulder, was indeed a truly corrupting influence. With
one small and painless gesture, he had reduced Krycek to a state that
he had not thought possible. He looked at Krycek's body and saw he
was breathing in gasps, the muscles in his abdomen and thighs were
taut and rigid with strain. Was Krycek truly afraid Mulder was going
rip his cock off, or worse? He'd begged Mulder to stop and not do
this. What `this' did he mean exactly?
Mulder tried to frame the right thing to say. He wanted Krycek to
tell him all the things he knew and Mulder didn't know. Something was
decidedly off kilter though. Krycek was a liar, a coward, a killer
and a spy, but this kind of abject defeat just wasn't right.
"You afraid of me, Krycek?" Mulder asked, keeping his voice soft and
quietly intense.
Ales swallowed. If he said yes, Mulder might be inspired t humiliate
him more. If he said no, Mulder would certainly need to prove himself
fear worthy. The truth then, Alex decided, whether Mulder would
believe it. "If you humiliate me, Mulder, I won't be the only one to
suffer."
"You think so?" Mulder asked viciously. "You think there is anything
I can do to you that will give me a moment's unease? After everything
you've done?"
Alex turned and faced Mulder, "Yes, I think there is." He said
quietly.
Mulder felt the power shift. He was losing ground and needed to back
up and rethink what he was doing. Having Krycek occupy the moral high
ground was unacceptable. "Maybe I wanted to see how far you would go
to try and weasel out of your position." Mulder said.
Alex thought hard and the fog cleared from his brain. "You thought I
would get turned on? Offer my ass as a bargaining chip?" He asked
incredulously. He saw Mulder's face redden. "Christ! I never thought
you were crazy. But, if you think being taken hostage and bound makes
for fun and games in bed, you are nuts. What is it, Mulder? The world
coming to an end isn't enough for you to get off on anymore? "
"Shut up!" Mulder yelled and reached for his gun.
Alex shut up, wondering what the fuck Mulder really had in mind.
Mulder clenched his gun and looked at it and his white knuckled hand
for a long time. He heard Krycek taking measured breaths, that more
than anything told him the man was scared and trying desperately not
to show it.
"What do you want, Mulder?" Alex asked resignedly.
Mulder put the gun back under the chair, got up, moved to the bed,
and sat down on it. Krycek's body slid slightly as Mulder's weight
settled. He placed his hand on Krycek's chest. He felt Krycek flinch
and the heartbeat under his hand speed up. "Is Samantha alive?"
"I don't know. The aliens promised the original abductees would be
returned when colonization began. I don't know if the recent barbeque
of a good portion of the conspirators changes that or not." Alex
answered.
Mulder nodded and lightly stroked small circles on Krycek's
chest. "What did I see at Weikamp?"
Alex tried to concentrate on Mulder's questions and ignore the light
touches. He didn't know if Mulder meant to caress him or was setting
him up for something painful if he didn't get an answer he
believed. "I think you saw the rebels manage to save the life of
their leader."
"Both sides use the shape of the bounty hunter, only the rebels seal
their orifices?" Mulder widened the area he was touching and skimmed
his hand over Krycek's belly. Lying flat, Mulder could feel the
muscles beneath the softness. Krycek's skin was warm and smooth,
almost hairless.
"Yes," Alex answered and sucked in his stomach. Mulder's fingers
outlined his navel and stroked the line of hair that led to his
groin. Alex felt very uncomfortable. He thought again, that in almost
any other situation, he might believe the person touching him meant
to arouse him. Since this was Mulder, Alex didn't believe he was
interested in anything but his humiliation.
"The rebels have possession of the fetus and torched Cassandra
Spender. Marita Covarrubius survived some sort of test with the black
oil and she and Jeffrey Spender have gone to ground?" Mulder clasped
Alex's stump, and although he shied away as far as he could go,
Mulder held on.
Panting with distress and alarm, Alex began to see the game. Mulder
touched him, knowing the intimacy without pain was more frightening,
in its reserve, than torture. Nonetheless, he was asking questions
and demanding answers and Alex felt compelled to answer. He found he
was afraid of Mulder and the unknown threat inherent in the calm,
concentrated attention. "Yes," Alex ground out, trying to get under
control. "Her survival means that the serum works. It kills the black
oil. Resistance to occupation is possible. The conspirators are in
disarray and split. Most of them want to continue the alliance.
Spender and the Brit are on opposite sides now that resistance is
possible."
"Ah," Mulder murmured and massaged the short trunk. He could feel the
abrupt end of bone and the hard mass of tissue at the end. Krycek's
underarm and shoulder were muscular and he wondered how the man
managed to exercise and keep it from atrophying. In fact, his entire
chest was more developed. Mulder had the compulsion to feel all of it
pressed close to him. His fingers dug into the stump and he literally
felt Krycek cry out, although he made no sound at all. "So, Jeffrey
Spender was supposed to follow in Daddy's footsteps? I rather thought
the Brit was grooming you for that position?"
Alex lost track of the questions. He hated what Mulder was doing,
hated having his arm held while he couldn't resist. "What do you want
from me?" He cried out, abandoning all attempts to stay cool.
Mulder held on to the stump and watched Krycek sweat. He looked just
like Mulder had always imagined in his revenge fantasies. This was
the real man—no more attitude, mockery or slyness. Using one hand,
Mulder reached in his pocket and withdrew the knife. He flipped open
the blade and Krycek whitened and went still.
Mulder let go of Krycek's left arm and held the knife in front of his
eyes. "I've got you now," he said evenly. "All bets are off; it's
just you and me. Isn't that right, Alex?" He spoke scathingly, using
Krycek's first name to increase the personal meaning of his actions.
Alex nodded. He took a deep breath and began to allow his mind to
distance him from the fear. He knew how to do this almost
effortlessly. He'd learned it young and it served him well. If he
could go far enough, no matter what Mulder did to him, he would be
safe until it was over. This was his place, no one, no matter how
hard they'd tried to break him, abase or hurt him, had ever been able
to intrude. It was green in his place, a lush paradise of soft warm
grass and sunlight. His heartbeat became the throbbing surf and the
salty copper dread in his mouth, the taste of the sea. His sweat was
droplets of ocean foam and the flashing blade merely reflected
sunlight on the sea. He expanded the scenario and heard the squawking
of gulls instead of Mulder's harsh, contemptuous demands. He felt
himself begin to drift and was glad.
Mulder saw Krycek's eyelids flutter and close. Saw him lick his lips
and make a shuddering, soundless sigh. He thought Krycek might have
passed out; he was breathing steadily, his left hand slowly
unclenched, and his neck and torso relaxed. The small smile, however,
told a different story. Krycek hadn't passed out, he'd taken himself
away instead.
Mulder watched Krycek relax and slip further away. He realized this
was a classic response to overwhelming fear and pain stimuli. He'd
seen it before, when he worked with abused children and kidnapping
victims. Mulder felt himself soften. The pinnacle of dominant
supremacy he'd attained weaken as he considered what Krycek was
doing. Whatever he'd imagined Krycek's response might be, he'd never
considered this.
Mulder closed the knife and put it beneath his chair with his gun. He
was sweating, so he took off his shirt and untucked his tee shirt. He
rose and refilled the water glass. He drank the whole glass and
filled it again. He brought it back to the bed and dribbled some into
Krycek's mouth. The man choked and sputtered, but didn't come back.
He licked his lips and turned his head, although his eyes remained
closed, Mulder knew he was looking at something in his dream state.
He'd thought about Krycek a lot during the past three years. He'd
come to the conclusion that Krycek was evil. Until now, nothing had
mitigated this opinion. Seeing Krycek take this way out made Mulder
rethink his previous summation. His instincts, as well as his
training, told him that Krycek had retreated to a place so old and
held so dear, that it must be the remnant of childhood trauma. And,
Mulder thought, if anyone was familiar with that kind of suffering,
he was.
Mulder sighed, untied Krycek and rubbed his wrist and ankles. Freed,
the man first stretched, and without regaining consciousness, curled
up on his left side and seemed to slowly fall into a normal sleep.
Mulder took the guns, cuffs, and the knife, wrapped them in his shirt
and put the bundle into the bottom drawer of the bureau. He was very
tired and incredibly saddened. There really were no simple answers.
The puzzle that was Krycek remained as opaque as ever and the
inexplicable connection they shared, just as complex.
He tugged at the sheet and blanket and covered the nude, sleeping
man, kicked off his shoes and joined Krycek on the bed. He placed a
hand on Krycek's back, hoping that if he fell asleep, he would feel
the other move and awaken. Mulder drifted off wondering what scenario
Krycek concocted for his safe place.
Alex woke. He was warm and for a moment, he didn't remember the
events leading up to his nap. Hearing a gentle snore at his back, he
froze, and remembered. He tried to make sense of what was happening
now. He was unbound, covered and seemed to have undergone no new
physical trauma. Mulder seemed to be asleep right next to him on the
bed. Alex tried to `feel' if he had said or done anything to make
these changes occur, but recalled nothing. He clenched his ass and
took a deep breath to determine if somehow Mulder had done anything
to him sexually, but smelled no scent of semen and felt no residual
soreness from penetration.
He tried to make sense of his freedom and Mulder's sense of safety
and ease. Carefully, he turned to face Mulder. He felt Mulder's hand
slip off his back. The other man opened his eyes. For the first time
in three years, Alex wanted to kiss Mulder. The occasional fuck
fantasies notwithstanding, he hadn't felt this gentler, sweeter need
for Mulder in a long, long time. Alex licked his dry lips and Mulder
sighed. Very hesitantly, Alex reached out and touched Mulder's mouth.
Mulder's lips trembled beneath his fingertips.
"Mulder," Alex whispered brokenly, "Mulder?" He withdrew his hand and
waited.
"Who are you Alex Krycek?" Mulder whispered back, but he didn't wait
for an answer, just shifted slightly and kissed him gently.
Alex felt Mulder's lips on his and thought his heart actually twisted
in his chest. Tenuously, he kissed Mulder in return.
Neither man spoke again.
Mulder pressed his lips more firmly and Alex opened his mouth. The
first slide of warm, wet tongue and he was on the verge of orgasm. He
buried his hand in Mulder's hair and the kiss deepened. They were
both gasping when they broke the kiss.
Mulder turned and faced Alex and wrapped his arm around his waist.
They both moved in for another kiss.
Alex ran his hand down Mulder back and up again under his tee shirt.
Mulder's skin was hot and smooth. Alex groaned and Mulder quickly
divested himself of the shirt. Chest to chest they moved against one
another. Alex felt Mulder's sharp intake of breath and knew Mulder
was as aroused as him.
Mulder pushed the sheet down and this time, when he ran his hands
down Krycek's torso, the body strained towards and not away from him.
He refused to hesitate. He'd waited for this for so very long and had
refused to acknowledge the need. Why this man, only this man,
inspired Mulder to the pinnacles of desire and the depths of hatred,
was inexplicable to him. But, god, he did.
Mulder touched Krycek from neck to pelvis. Krycek drew him firmly
into another open mouthed, desperate kiss. He reached for and finally
took Krycek's penis in hand. He felt Krycek jerk hard and moan deep
in his throat, without removing his mouth from the long, long kiss.
Mulder could hardly believe what he was doing. The firm shaft in his
hand made him dizzy and he felt his universe shift as the hot
ejaculate burst between his fingers and onto his belly. And, still
Krycek kissed him, kissed him as if ceasing the molten union of their
mouths meant exile back to a place so terrifyingly alone that only
death could be worse.
Alex came at the very first touch of Mulder's hand on his cock. It
was the least important of all the things he was experiencing. That
Mulder was near him, with him, holding, caressing, and kissing him,
far outweighed an insignificant orgasm. This was more than he'd dared
to imagine. He kissed Mulder unceasingly, attempting to impress the
very essence of his desire, dreams and hopes on him before the moment
ended. He had no idea how this had come about or what had turned in
Mulder's mind to make him want this, but Alex knew this might be the
only time and the only moment he would ever have.
Eventually they had to catch their breaths.
Alex, panting heavily, pushed Mulder down on the bed, turned on his
side and pressed his face into Mulder's neck. He used his hand to
scrape lightly down Mulder chest and unbuckled his pants. He felt
Mulder's hands fumble with the zipper and impatiently help get the
damn things off. He was making soft, needful sounds and Alex obliged
him immediately. He quickly caressed Mulder's sex, pushed at his
thigh until he gave in and parted his legs, and then Alex moved
between them. He kissed Mulder's neck, chest, and belly. Mulder
arched perfectly into Alex's mouth. Alex thought he heard Mulder cry
out a curse or a prayer, it didn't matter which, because he was deaf
and dumb to everything but the desperate thrust of Mulder's cock in
his throat.
Yes, Alex thought, I knew he would taste this way. Yes! Take
everything I offer. He sucked sloppily, mouth wide and welcoming. He
wrapped his hand around the hard length and forced a fast, furious
rhythm. Mulder's hands grasped his head and he slung his leg over
Alex's shoulder. Alex bore the weight and took Mulder all the way
into his throat.
Mulder came with a scream, his heart beating so hard he thought he
might actually stroke out. Krycek gently allowed him to get his
breath back and remained silent, resting his head against Mulder's
belly. Satiated and calm, he tugged on Krycek's hand and brought him
up alongside him. He kissed Krycek and petted his chest and
shoulders. Krycek hung on and they rocked together.
"We just had sex," Mulder, stated the obvious and felt Krycek nod
into his shoulder. "It's crazy." Krycek nodded again. Mulder
tightened his arms and whispered hoarsely, "I hate you."
"I know," Alex said, just as softly and held on just as tightly.
"I want you. I don't understand it, but I do." Mulder kissed Alex's
neck and cheek.
Alex wanted to reassure Mulder, but he didn't have the facility to
explain himself, let alone have it make sense. He'd been alone a
long, long time and intimacy of this kind was unknown to him. It
wasn't about the sex, although he knew Mulder rarely indulged at all
and never with men. "We're like satellites," he said at last, hoping
Mulder would understand despite the obscure reference.
"Our orbits preordained by gravity?" Mulder replied.
"Yeah," Alex said.
"Yeah," Mulder answered and made himself more comfortable on the bed.
"Rest," Alex said, got up and used the bathroom, brought back a warm
washcloth. Mulder rubbed the semen off his belly. Alex took the cloth
and tossed it back towards the bathroom, drank a glass of water,
stretched out his aching leg, and rejoined Mulder in bed.
Mulder fell asleep and Alex watched him. He wanted to recall
something poetic or romantic to mark the occasion in his mind. Mulder
snored softly and Alex laughed to himself. Fuck romance, he thought
as Mulder shifted closer to him. He turned onto his left side and
somehow they fit, cock-to-cock and chest-to-chest, legs entwined.
He circled Mulder's waist with his arm and quietly matched the rhythm
of Mulder's sleeping breaths. He felt a piercing sense of rightness,
decided this was as good as life gets, certainly more than he'd
imagined his could be, and closed his eyes.
End
Elliptical Orbits
by Flutesong
Everything was sort of fuzzy and dense. The hum of the air
conditioner hiccupped once in while and at first, he thought it was
someone trying to get in the door. Spread-eagle in old gym shorts on
the king sized bed, Alex felt as if he were adrift on a warm ocean.
He was stoned, knew it was dangerous to be in this state, but was too
loaded to hold on to the thought. The wound to his thigh wasn't life
threatening, but it hurt like hell. So, until the stitches had time
to stop throbbing, Alex made it to the nearest hotel, checked in,
undressed and thankfully swallowed the painkillers.
