Jesus. He couldn't help staring; Alex looked a frightful mess. His eyes were
red-rimmed and tired, his hair was mussed, he was dressed in a t-shirt and
sweats without shoes or socks—he looked as though he hadn't slept in a week.
"Alex?" Mulder inquired, wondering what the hell had happened to his old
adversary to reduce him to this state.
Alex blinked at him. "It's after midnight. What the hell are you doing here?
How'd you find me? What do you want?"
Mulder regarded him and decided to ignore the barrage of questions. "Uh, can I
come in? Look, I'm not here to fight with you, or kill you or compromise your
presence here. I just want to talk. That's all, I swear."
Alex glowered at him searchingly for a few tense moments, then stepped away from
the door, leaving it open.
Mulder took a breath and picked up his bag. Entering the living room of the
small rented apartment, he shut the door and put the bag down. Curiously, he
looked around. Sparse, Spartan even. Bare essentials. And television, showing
yet more of the unceasing unfolding of tragedy and sorrow in the wake of the
WTC, Pentagon and Pennsylvania crashes.
Mulder sighed. Alex was standing behind the sofa with a frown.
"You don't believe that I had anything to do with this?" Alex asked, angrily.
"No, I don't," Mulder said, firmly. "That's—not why I'm here. Well, not
directly."
Alex stared at him, obviously nonplussed, expecting—
—Violence, Mulder thought, wearily. Recriminations. Another litany over past
pains and deeds. "Look, we can talk about the past later, okay? It was a
really rough flight. Everyone's really jittery just now in the airports, on the
planes, security is really—it's all freaky at the moment... You know?"
Alex's eyes glittered. His tongue came out slowly to wet his lips. "Are you
carrying, Mulder?"
"Are you kidding? With airport security so tight in the wake of what happened?"
Mulder injected enough disbelief in his voice to make Alex look away.
"Right. Of course. Like you couldn't have arranged to have an FBI issue
sidearm waiting here for you on your arrival," Alex pointed out.
Mulder snickered. "You're more paranoid than I am," he said with amusement.
And that's saying something," he added. He stepped forward and put his hands up
in the air. "Go on. Check me. I'm clear."
For a split second, Mulder could've sworn that Alex had a look of startled...
panic... yeah, panic in his eyes. It fled quickly, and Alex's eyes narrowed
suspiciously. "Fine. Sit down." He sighed, expressively. "Coffee? Tea?
Beer? Water?"
"No, no, no and no. No, thanks. Had coffee at the airport actually, before
catching a cab." Mulder sat down heavily on the couch.
The television's volume was down too low to hear what they were saying. The
images were all too vivid and familiar, though.
Alex picked up the remote control and switched off the television. "I just like
to keep abreast with recent developments," he murmured. He sat down wearily on
the opposite end of the couch from Mulder. And then turned to stare at him.
"How the FUCK did you find me?"
Mulder looked down. "I've actually known you were here for some time now.
Don't worry," he added, "nobody else does. They all think I came here to get
away for a while, visit some friends."
"Sure. And how do I know you're not an alien replacement?"
"Because I'm NOT. How do I know YOU aren't?"
Alex snorted and looked away. "Go to hell, Mulder."
Mulder sighed. "I think I already am in hell, judging from your presence here."
Alex scowled. "Fuck you," he said, dismissively.
Mulder laughed aloud. "Maybe later. Um, I didn't mean that to sound—Look,
I'm not an alien, or a—a robot or any other kind of paranormal oddity.
Alright? What I meant was that you look like hell, yourself. You look like you
haven't been sleeping."
"Are you drunk?" Alex asked, glaring at him, worriedly. "Jesus, Mulder, you
come here—past midnight, acting like the last time we saw each other wasn't
over the barrel of a gun. And just how the hell do you expect me to swallow
that part about not compromising me, here? With you here...just by BEING here,
I'm fucked. You know that. You're watched, wherever you go."
"Not this time. No tail, no shadows. Besides, I'm out of the Bureau.
Otherwise I wouldn't be HERE trying to comfort YOUR sorry ass in this time of
sorrow. I'd be out there with Doggett, Skinner and the rest." Mulder stated
all of this in a bored and matter-of-fact tone, ending with a yawn. "And I'm
really tired. It was a stressful day. Hell, a stressful WEEK. Come on, Alex,
give me a break."
Alex shot him a look. "You watched me die, Mulder. What makes you think
there's any warm feelings in this room for you? Go fuck yourself."
Mulder sat, quietly. "Yeah, there is that. I think I was kind of stunned,
actually, at the time. I didn't believe it, of course. That's why I checked up
on you afterwards. Of course, I WOULD like to hear it from your own lips. How
did you manage to pull through that one?"
Alex looked away.
"My guess is that you were revived by one of those alien healers, like Jeremiah
Smith, through your contacts with the Resistance. Am I right?"
Alex took a breath and exhaled, irritably. "What do you want, Mulder?"
"Well, to talk."
"So talk."
"And some soup. I don't know... I, uh, don't want to put you out or anything.
I'm actually kind of hungry. Do you mind?"
Alex stared at him a little incredulously. "You've got to be kidding," he
finally said.
Mulder ruefully slouched further down, folding his arms. "Fine. No soup.
You're right, it's a bit much to ask for, after arriving at your door without
any warning."
Alex twitched, facing forward, staring into space and not looking at his
unexpected visitor. "If you really need the soup that badly, help yourself."
Mulder sat up. "You don't mind? I mean, you don't mind me fixing myself
something?"
Alex sighed, still not looking at him.
Mulder stood up and went into the kitchen. "Nice. Your cupboards are hardly
bare," he called out. "What have we here? Basil, garlic... Knotts Berry-Farm
blackberry syrup. Nice. Nope." He tried another cupboard. "Rice. Canned—"
Mulder frowned and then grimaced, muttering, "EEL? Tins of jellied eel....
Jesus, Krycek..."
There was a pause and Alex's reply drifted back, "So you AREN'T here to kill
me."
"Cream of asparagus," Mulder replied. He began to look around, opening drawers
and cupboards, trying to find a bowl, a spoon, a can opener...
Alex called back, "And you aren't here to interrogate me about what I know, in
your Search For the Truth?"
"Nope. Just here to talk, Krycek. That's all." Mulder opened the can of soup
and used the spoon to scrape it into the bowl he'd located.
Alex appeared at the door and leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his
chest. "What in the hell do you want from me? I thought—" he stopped.
Mulder paused in his efforts at soup-preparation and looked back at Alex with a
guileless expression, his hand on the open microwave door. "Thought what? What
did you think?"
Alex waited until Mulder had placed the bowl in the microwave and set it to heat
up for a few minutes.
"I thought I was public enemy number one, your ultimate threat, the one man you
didn't mind watching go down in a blaze of guns and a pool of blood. Your
nemesis." He shook his head. "Why—what—why are you here?"
The very real confusion and puzzlement in Alex's question made Mulder stand
still and ponder the best way to handle this. Finally, he decided the truth was
probably his best bet. "I don't know. I'm not sure. But I was sitting there
watching the world we once knew go up in flames, the American Dream, everything.
That changed everything for me. And I sat there, realizing that I didn't want
to go into this brave new world without having at least tried to heal the past.
My past. Our past—our problems. I came here hoping you would let me talk
with you. Sort of... talk it out. You DIED, Alex. So did I. And if you'll
recall, it was thanks to you that I came back to the land of the living. It was
THAT, that made me realize I hadn't thanked you and that I COULDN'T, until I
understood why you'd done it."
Alex stood for a moment, absorbing this. Then he nodded, slowly. "Makes sense.
In a surreal, twisted kind of way. You WOULD capitalize on something like
this."
Mulder gave a half-smile. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Alex shook his head and then looked up to meet his gaze. "How can I trust you?"
"Well, seeing as I shouldn't be able to trust you—and yet here I am—I'd say
we could both put away the knives, put down the guns and put an end to the
US/Soviet nuclear arms race we've privately been holding between us for more
years than I can count. What do you say?"
Alex regarded him with that little crease between his brows. "A truce? In
light of the need for world peace?"
"Exactly," Mulder said, feeling slightly hopeful. "A positive response in the
face of the horror and the rallying war-cries for revenge." The microwave
chimed and he turned to it, withdrawing the bowl of soup. He put it down on the
counter, murmuring, "I'm just glad you didn't shoot me when you opened the
door."
Alex chuckled, surprisingly, and went to the fridge.
Mulder watched him from the corner of one eye and then said, a little too
casually, "Um, the ones who revived you—they gave you back your arm?"
Alex froze in his perusal of the contents of the fridge and then straightened.
"Yeah," he said, stiffly. "Obviously."
Mulder didn't look away from him when Alex turned to meet his eye. "I'm glad,"
he said, quietly.
Alex turned, took two beers out and shut the fridge. Putting them on the table,
he took a seat and watched as Mulder stirred the soup and brought it over.
Sitting down across from Alex, Mulder threw him a glance. "I was also wondering
if you were alone, here. This is a really hard time to be alone, especially if
one is feeling helpless and unable to do much of anything except watch the
news."
Alex snorted around the bottle. "'Florence Mulder', 'angel of mercy'. Give me
a break."
Mulder took a spoonful of soup. "Well, I was feeling that way myself and I
guess I just assumed you'd be feeling the same. But I guess not. No, I suppose
you're used to living alone, on the run... Now that you've gone to ground with
the rats again."
Alex brought the bottle down to the table with a bump. He rubbed at his eyes,
tiredly. "I don't have time for this shit, Mulder. Just say what you have to
say and let's get this over with."
Mulder continue to spoon mouthfuls of soup. "Hey, it's better than running with
the lemmings over the cliff, like the rest of America. I can relate, actually.
Right now, I'd give anything for a quiet bolthole. You've got a good thing
going here."
Alex snorted. "Stands to reason that a guy called Fox would have a rodent
fixation."
Mulder darted a glance at him. "What?"
"Rats, lemmings," Alex waved a hand in the air. "But you still haven't told me
anything meaningful. I'm about two steps away from throwing you out on your
ass."
Mulder pouted slightly. He couldn't help it. He checked his watch; it was
nearly 12:45 AM. "Can I finish my soup, at least?"
Alex went still. His eyes slid away to regard the floor.
Mulder continued, "Alright, I'll just finish this up and then I'll be on my way.
I'm sorry to have bothered you, Alex. I didn't mean to presume. Or to intrude
on your glorious retirement here."
A frown rippled over Alex's face.
Mulder hurriedly added, "But there's just one thing I'd like before I go."
Alex picked up the bottle, swigged from it and said, "Yeah, I'll just bet there
is. There usually is, with you."
Mulder's lips twitched and he picked up his own beer. "A kiss. Just one. On
the mouth, you know, like the one you didn't give me last time?"
Alex stared at him with undisguised shock. Then a revealing shade of scarlet
began creeping into his cheeks, flooding his face.
Mulder added, mildly, "Well, come on, Alex. You were pretty obvious about it,
you have to admit. But it was kind of disappointing."
Alex swallowed, visibly. Then he sighed. "Right. I get it. This is your idea
of getting me to let down my guard." He shook his head and finished off the
last of his beer. "Your technique sucks, Mulder."
Mulder let the chagrin he felt at Alex's words show in his expression. He was
willing to bet that Alex hadn't actually seen him in full-pout mode before. At
least, he couldn't remember ever having used it on Alex, previously. "Damn.
Well, it was worth a shot." He looked down at the empty bowl in misery. Still
staring down at it, he added in a more subdued voice, "It..." he hesitated...
"It's too late for us, isn't it?"
When at last he lifted his eyes back to see Alex's reaction to this display of
his, he was stunned to find Alex staring back at him with slightly widened eyes,
looking trapped between regret and concern. Alex blinked and looked away,
pressing his lips together in a tight line.
Alex's reply was huskier than before. "I didn't think there WAS an 'us'." His
eyes flicked back to Mulder's face, filled with accusation, fear...and a little
hope, which was quickly replaced with defeat. "You hate me—you've always
hated me."
Mulder shook his head. "I never wanted to, Alex. I think enough time's passed
for us to get over what's happened between us and just let it rest."
"Right. Like you're going to forgive me for—" Alex stopped short.
"For killing my father," Mulder supplied for him. "Maybe not. But I can accept
you as you are. I can see you've changed. I've changed too—hell, we died and
now we live again. That places us on equal footing for once. Let's just say
that you paid for your sins with your death. If you were given a second chance,
same as you gave me, then that's okay by me. I can live with it."
Alex stared at him with that little crease between his brows again. "You're
crazy."
"Probably. But then, you love me that way, don't you?" It was a statement and
Mulder grinned at him before finishing his own beer. "Thanks for the soup, by
the way. I was starving. Couldn't eat on the plane; it was a nerve-wracking
flight."
Mulder could see the hope and the doubt warring in Alex's face. He leaned back
in the chair, stretching his legs. "I always wanted you, Alex," he said lazily,
going in for the kill.
Alex licked his lips, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah? And that's supposed to mean
something to me? Now, after all this time? I think you were right—it's a
little late for 'us'."
Mulder chewed on his upper lip. Slowly, he said, "I've got it. I've finally
figured it out."
Alex looked away with exasperation. Finally, he asked, "Okay, what? What is it
now?"
"You're an E.L.F. Metaphorically, I mean."
Alex scowled. "An elf?"
"E. L. F.," Mulder repeated, pronouncing it carefully. "Electromagnetic Low
Frequency. Every time I'm around you, you affect me in the same way that an
E.L.F. does. It's true; I always find myself behaving irrationally when we
meet. It's like I'm not even myself around you. I kind of... lose it. I guess
that's why I could never stop myself from hitting you, before. The impulse was
too overwhelming."
Alex's face darkened with this reminder of Mulder's past abusive behavior
towards him.
Quickly, Mulder added, "I was sublimating, of course."
"Oh, of course," Alex said, bitterly. "Naturally. And that's MY fault, because
I'm a—an E.L.F. Christ, Mulder, you're more full of shit than I thought."
Mulder chuckled. Still grinning, he said, "We should have fucked, years ago.
Maybe we could've worked through all this before now. But, hey, there's no time
like the present."
Alex was breathing harder, looking like he was either going to explode with fury
or caustic sarcasm—maybe both. With some effort, he let out a breath, slowly,
and replied, "No deal, Mulder. Go fuck yourself."
Mulder sat up and leaned forward, arms on the table before him, over the empty
bowl. Looking down at the center of the table, he said quietly, "It's okay,
Alex. I understand. It's gone way beyond sex now, hasn't it." He looked up
and met Alex's eyes, seriously. "I'll settle for a real truce and a mutual
apology. Maybe there's even a chance we could be friends. At least from a
shared understanding of what we've both been through since we first met."
Alex wavered, looking back at him with a sort of surprise and dismay, as well as
a renewal of that hope Mulder had seen flare in his eyes, earlier. Then to
Mulder's complete relief and gratification, Alex bit his lower lip and looked
down. Lowly, he said, "THAT...that sounds a little more realistic."
But the way he looked up into Mulder's eyes, his face seeming to melt into an
expression of almost pathetically vulnerable optimism now, was Mulder's undoing.
Mulder felt his lower belly clench with a tug of pleasure, and found himself
staring at Alex's mouth... Those pretty lips... Those long lashes that had
always made Alex look ridiculously sweet and somehow deceptively cute,
defenseless.
But now Alex was starting to panic. Mulder could see it in the way his eyelids
fluttered and the way his throat convulsed. Alex turned away, obviously wanting
to regain his composure. Another beer?" he asked in a low, subdued voice.
"Yeah, thanks," Mulder said. "Anything to delay my sentence."
Alex stopped at the fridge. "Sentence?" He opened the fridge and got two more
beers.
"Yeah. Aren't you kicking me out on my ass, after we're through here?" Mulder
looked up at him with The Pout. And it wasn't just an act, he realized to his
dismay. He really WANTED Alex. It seemed like it would be a criminal shame to
let this chance for any kind of resolution between them slip through his
fingers.
Alex slid the beer over to him, across the table and said, "Let's go back into
the living room."
"So, I guess I have a stay of execution?" Mulder asked, as he trailed along
behind Alex.
Alex flopped down on the couch and gave a sigh. "Mulder, you're—" he stopped.
Mulder sat down and Alex regarded him, warily. "You're going to break me," he
said, in a softer voice.
"No." Mulder shook his head. "I'm going to fix you."
Alex twisted the cap off of his beer. "Why should I believe you?" There was a
kind of fatalistic, despairing note to the words. Mulder didn't get the
impression he was being cynical; more that Alex didn't believe that it really
meant what he wanted to believe Mulder meant...
Mulder replied, "Because you have nothing to lose. And neither do I."
Alex winced a little. "Actually, I do. I don't want your pity."
Mulder was about to drink but in his surprise, he let the bottle rest back down
on his knee. "I wasn't referring to having sex with you. I meant the
friendship, our reconciliation."
The blush that suffused Alex's face this time was a revelation. Mulder found
himself enjoying this exchange far more than he had expected he would, when
they'd started in the kitchen.
He took a sip and said, carefully, "I don't have any expectations of you, Alex.
I didn't come here to fight with you, or to seduce you. But I'm not wrong about
this. I can feel it; we DO have a chance. If you're willing."
Alex exhaled quietly through his nose, obviously thinking this over. Taking
refuge in his beer for the moment, Alex stared at the silent, dead television.
Mulder realized he was treading shaky ground now. Not just with Alex but with
himself. What DID he want? How long did he really want to stick around? The
answer whispered coyly in the back of his mind, 'for as long as it can work for
both of us'.
Nervously, he saw that Alex wasn't buying it. He had no right to expect Alex
KRYCEK of all people to believe his overtures of friendship and sexual
solicitation. Not after all they'd been through. Not after all the times Alex
had given him justifiable reason to hate him, and certainly not after all the
times Mulder had made it patently obvious just how MUCH he did hate this man...
He looked over at Alex.
Such a lonely man. This man who had survived YEARS of precarious involvement
with the Consortium and various alien factions. This man who had betrayed him,
helped betray his partner, killed his boss. This man who had saved his life
when no one else had the means or knowledge. This man who had died before his
eyes. This man who, he was certain, loved him. This lonely, lonely man.
Despite everything that had transpired over the years, he knew—like he knew
his own mind—Krycek had held affection for him even while stabbing him in the
back with the blackmailing of Skinner and appropriating the pieces of the
artifact.
"Alex?" He cleared his throat and said, meekly, "I'll take whatever you're
willing to give me."
The way that Alex looked back at him, met his eyes this time, sent a slight
tremor through Mulder. He had the feeling that a line had just been crossed.
He'd just given everything over to Alex.
Alex looked like he recognized this, too. For the first time, that trademark,
familiar Krycek smirk appeared on Alex's face.
Mulder was stunned to realize he'd missed it desperately.
"Anything, Mulder?" Alex's query was curious, almost deceptively so.
Calling my bluff, Mulder thought. He stiffened. He wanted this; might as well
see it through. "Yeah. Anything." He met Alex's gaze calmly.
Alex's smirk told him he wasn't fooling anyone. Mulder felt strangely
off-balance for the first time that night. And light-headed. The stress of the
day, the past week, the giving in to this impulse to try to see if Alex WAS
living here at this hidey-hole in the middle of nowhere, the flight and the
beer... He closed his eyes and laid his head back, resting.
Alex was quiet. Then—"Okay." The acceptance was quiet and understated.
Mulder almost missed the significance of it. He raised his head with a jolt.
"Okay?"
"Yeah." Alex's face was unreadable now.
An equal measure of relief and delight washed over Mulder. It must have shown
in his face, for that smirk intensified and Alex snorted. "Jesus, Mulder...I
oughta have my head examined."
"I'll examine anything you like," Mulder offered.
A shiver ran over Alex at this. He looked over at Mulder and snickered, both
from humor and nervousness, Mulder decided. "I'll be taking you up on that."
Mulder ran a hand through his hair. "I need a shower. Mind if I take one?"
Alex drew a breath. "Go ahead. I'll—" he stopped.
Mulder got up and went to his bag, retrieving a pair of sweatpants and his
overnight toiletry bag. He needed to shave, too...
Alex stood and was looking lost and tired again.
Fuck. Mulder went over to him and pulled a surprised Alex into a close hug.
"Missed you. I didn't know how much though, until I saw you again. I couldn't
be sure it was really you," he said, over Alex's shoulder.
Alex didn't say anything. Just tightened his arms around Mulder.
Finally, they stepped apart, Alex's eyes meeting his for a split second,
betraying hope as well as excitement, before darting away. "I'll get you a
towel."
"Thanks. I won't be long," Mulder said, finding his way through the small
apartment to the little bathroom off of the short hallway.
He was more tired than he'd realized, due to the adrenaline and tension that had
been running up and down his body all day, right up to his approaching Krycek's
apartment. He showered quickly, shaved and brushed his teeth.
Pulling on the sweatpants, he made his way to the living room to find it dark
and vacant. He put his clothes and the little bag away, then wandered to the
bedroom.
Alex's bedroom.
A frisson of electric excitement ran through him.
Truth be told, he'd wanted this for a long, long time. The door was open
slightly, and he knocked once, then opened it.
Candles burned in several strategic places around the small bedroom. Three sets
of low bookshelves loaded with books and personal items provided places for
candles to sit. The bed looked cozy and luckily it was queen-sized. But the
most amazing of all was Alex, naked with the covers drawn up to his waist,
sitting upright against the headboard with a pillow behind him, waiting for
Mulder to come in.
Mulder stood, gaping. Returning to himself, he turned and shut the door. "I—uh, hey, this bedroom is really nice," he said, brilliantly. Mulder wanted to
bite his own tongue. Yeah, that was witty.
He wanted to jump onto the bed and see if it was springy. He wanted to crawl up
to Alex and kiss him senseless.
Alex said, "I don't spend a lot of time in here, actually."
Mulder cleared his throat and said, "Look, if this—if we're going too fast,
here, I'll understand."
Alex regarded him somewhat compassionately. "It's okay. Come here." He patted
the space on the bed beside him.
Mulder went to the bedside, pulled down his sweatpants and dropped them on the
floor, and then pulled back the covers, sliding between them. Next to Alex.
Jesus. Too close. And still not close enough.
Alex looked fucking delicious in the candlelight... Mulder blinked. And took in
the fact that Alex was smiling at him.
"You look totally spaced out." Alex chuckled.
Mulder licked his lips, wondering if he'd fallen down the rabbit hole at last.
"I meant what I said," Mulder stated. "I have missed you."
Alex's smile slipped into an open, unguarded look of wistful tenderness that
somehow managed to completely dispel all residual doubts Mulder had held in the
pit of his stomach.
He felt a tug deep inside and said, quietly, "Alex. Kiss me."
Something bright sparked in Alex's face and he regarded Mulder with something
more akin to hunger, now. Leaning forward slowly, he placed one hand on the
side of Mulder's face and hovered close to press his lips to Mulder's.
Mulder couldn't help closing his eyes. Light, warm and a little too gentle,
this kiss, almost as if Alex was giving him room to pull away if it WAS too
much, too soon, too fast.
But Mulder's heart was beating loudly and the thrumming desire that had been
arcing between them forever, since Mulder had arrived at Alex's door, ever since
that kiss in the dark in Mulder's apartment years before, could no longer be
denied.
Mulder reached up and pulled Alex closer, smashing their lips together. He
opened his mouth and drank in the heat and Alex's sharp intake of breath through
flared nostrils; as he let the tip of his tongue wander into Alex's mouth,
suddenly Alex drew back.
Alex's eyes were almost black in the dim candle-lit room. "Mulder," he said,
huskily, "We don't have to—"
"Yes, we fucking well do," Mulder said fervently. "How long have we been
pretending it isn't like this between us?"
Alex exhaled noisily. "Jesus," he said, under his breath. And turned to take
Mulder in his arms, leaning over and pushing him down.
Mulder squirmed slightly, distracted by Alex's mouth on his again, giving them
the room to take advantage of this horizontal position. The first one that he
could remember in a long time that left him wanting...to be used. He tore away
from Alex's desperately heated kisses long enough to gasp out, "Alex, need you
to—fuck me—come on—"
Alex stopped and drew back, staring down into Mulder's face. "You really want
that?"
"I want YOU," Mulder clarified. He punctuated this with a very wet and deep
kiss, pulling Alex's head back down to him.
After a few moments of this however, Alex drew back again and smirked down at
him. "Let me just get a few things..." He left Mulder laying there while he
rolled, turned and reached into a small drawer in the bedside bureau.
Mulder laughed when he saw what Alex had retrieved. "I don't think I've ever
been SO glad to see a bottle of lube before."
Alex's lips twisted in a wry smile. "Astroglide. It's good. It's more than
adequate."
"Um, are you gonna do that yourself, or do you want a hand?" Mulder asked,
grinning.
Alex's smiled widened into a very Cheshire-like impression. "You can lay there
and watch, Foxy. And think about just where this," Alex reached down a hand to
his own cock and stroked it once, twice, "is going to go, just as soon as I'm
through."
Mulder nearly came, just watching Alex touch himself.
At his paralyzed expression, Alex laughed out loud. "God, you're easy, Mulder."
Alex pulled the covers off of Mulder, slowly, then leaned down and began to kiss
Mulder's knee.
Mulder nearly whimpered as Alex's mouth began an interesting voyage up his thigh
and across his stomach to his navel, going up to one nipple and then the other,
then up to his neck. Alex straddled him and using his weight to hold him down,
began to suck on Mulder's neck.
Mulder groaned, loudly. And gasping, panting, said, "Alex, come on, I want you.
I want it. Do it."
Alex lifted his head. His lips were shiny and his eyes were bright with
eagerness for the task he'd set himself. "You really ARE easy. Mulder, trust
me, let me do this at my pace, okay?"
Mulder sighed in frustration. "Alright."
Alex smiled again, a little more wickedly than before. Then leaned down to lick
lightly at his lips. Mulder opened his mouth but the bastard just ran the tip
of his tongue down along Mulder's jaw instead, moving to his earlobe. Then he
stopped.
Mulder found himself holding his breath.
Then, Alex whispered hotly and almost inaudibly in his ear, "I'm gonna paint
every inch of you with my tongue."
Mulder's cock jumped at this and he felt an accompanying shudder of coiled lust
surge throughout his lower belly.
Alex's mouth fastened on his neck again and Mulder knew he was being marked.
Alex moved down his skin, sprinkling kisses along the way. Back down to his
stomach. And those hands weren't idle, either, gently caressing everywhere.
Mulder began to feel like he'd fallen into the proverbial rabbit hole—that he
had been seized by lecherous fairies...or maybe a particularly amorous ghost.
But soon, the lightness of tongue and fingers began to make him shiver. It
wasn't quite enough to really send him over the edge, though.
"Uh, Alex?" he tentatively inquired.
The soft touches halted. "What?" was mouthed between two kisses on his right
hip.
"I'm dying, here."
Alex was seized with silent, amused shaking at this, making Mulder's body shake
too. And then, he got up, chuckling, saying, "Fine. I'll have mercy on you
this once." He began to unroll the condom over his erection. Then he took up a
generous amount of lube and said, "Spread your legs."
The way he said it... Mulder couldn't help but gather that it was partly a
challenge, partly an order. How DID he feel about going all the way with this?
Now that they had arrived at the moment of truth...after he'd virtually demanded
that it happen, pushing them towards it since he'd arrived-
Alex tilted his head, waiting, looking him up and down.
Mulder gave in and feeling slightly foolish and exposed, spread his legs apart,
lifting his knees.
Alex leaned down on one elbow beside him, on Mulder's left, and kissed him on
the mouth. "I've wanted to do this to you for as long as I've known you."
The closeness, the candlelight, the fact it was ALEX'S bedroom, and the very
inescapable fact that they were both naked and aroused, all seemed so surreal.
Mulder felt like he'd traveled through space and time and taken a strange detour
somewhere along the way, ending up in a parallel universe where he and Alex
were.... were what? Lovers? Friends? Resolved? Reconciled?
He felt Alex's forehead come to rest on his shoulder and then the slick touch of
wet fingers slowly working in small, concentric circles on his ass, towards his
exposed anus. He drew in an unsteady breath.
But Alex was murmuring, "I can't believe this. You're so—God, Mulder."
Mulder suddenly realized that Alex needed more reassuring than HE did, even
poised on the looming eventuality of what he'd said he wanted Alex to do to him.
Then one fingertip pressed into him, so slowly—god, so slowly and carefully—that he felt the tension lift from him almost magically. His head went back,
his eyes closed, and he gave himself over to it. Such a simple, small thing,
one finger, sliding in, but it was like allowing those first moments of feeling
to enter him, months back, when he'd discovered Alex Krycek might still be
alive... He realized now that he'd been hoping, PRAYING even, that Alex was
actually here.
Then a second finger entered his hole, stretching him, burning, and all thought
fled completely. He gasped.
Alex breathed, "You're so fucking beautiful like this."
It was dark, perverse delight that shot through Mulder now and he actually moved
his hips, squirming against the fingers inside of him. "Fuck," he muttered,
with feeling. "Alex, come on. Do this, I want you to fuck me. Right now."
Frowning with concern, Alex said, "I don't want to hurt you. I want this to be
good, this first time with you. You know?"
"I'm okay, I am. Really," Mulder reassured him.
Alex considered him for a moment or two then sat up swiftly. "Your call,
lover." Then he knelt between Mulder's legs, and, with that smirk gracing his
lips, held Mulder's gaze while slowly stroking his own cock again.
"Jesus Christ, that's..." Mulder trailed off, not knowing how to say it. But
the sight of Alex like this above him, wantonly stroking himself, just made the
heat flash over his body, sliding over his skin like a hot sheet of flame.
And then Alex's hands were lifting his legs back, holding them back farther, and
one hand returned to guide his cock into Mulder's ready and waiting ass.
OH GOD. Tight, so tight, so big, full and thick and entering him, inside of
him, ALEX WAS INSIDE of him, it was too much and he was shaking, involuntary
ripples seizing him like little electric waves.
He could feel sweat trickling down his sides and then Alex was bending over him,
teasing his lips with that silvery, wicked tongue.
Alex stopped, breathing hard, a look almost of pain crossing his face as he
stared wordlessly into Mulder's eyes. After a while, Alex swallowed, licked his
lips and said, roughly, "How are you doing? You alright?"
Drolly, Mulder said, "Alex, if you don't fuck me now, I'll—I'll—"
Alex snickered and then...MOVED... inside of him. Mulder shut up fast, wonder
filling him at the sensation. It hurt a little, but it was also entirely
fascinating. He'd discovered his own prostate a long time ago but he'd never
imagined that it could feel like this...
Alex bit his lip and moved again—hitting that magical spot, much to Mulder's
delight. And then pulled nearly completely out and slid all the way back in
again with one hard thrust.
Mulder yelped. "Oh fucking god Alex please do that—"
Alex smiled down at him with something like contentment and purposeful intent,
and then began to slowly rock his hips back and forth, thrusting in and out of
Mulder with a slight 'upward' angle to his thrusts, ensuring that Mulder's
prostate was being properly massaged.
It wasn't enough. He wanted MORE. He gulped. "Alex, for god's sake FUCK ME
HARD."
Alex groaned, a deep heart-felt groan, and bent his head, leaning down against
Mulder's neck, and began to fuck him, harder, harder—
Oh shit, yes, this was much better. Hard. Fast. Pummeling him, Alex's cock was
punishing his ass with every slick slide into him. Every slight withdrawal
scraped back against that place inside of him and the constant rubbing of it was
starting to make him see stars. He felt it in his toes, first, a rising wave of
pleasure that was scintillating and almost painful.
They were crying out, both of them together, and Mulder's throat felt hoarse and
dry, he hadn't realized how often he'd been calling out already—with every
thrust into him he'd let out a sound—a yell—a groan. The wave of pleasure
crested and he felt his face break out with heat, heat, heat... then he was
coming, the spiking, pooling tide of pure savage lust and love and want shooting
out of him, with repeated surges.
He shouted, Alex's cry joining his moments later, both of them pinioned on the
stabbing delight that was running them through. Mulder had the strangest image
of the two of them pierced by the same sword, together in this lover's embrace,
face to face.
And then Alex was panting, catching his breath, whispering, "Fuck, oh GOD.
Fox." He was whispering it like the dearest prayer.
Mulder lifted his hand from Alex's shoulder to touch his cheek. "Oh, Alex," he
said quietly. "I didn't know. Why'd we wait so long? Why'd it take so fucking
long for me to get it, to understand?"
Alex's eyes filled with a little of that earlier panic Mulder had been treated
to before.
Okay. This was fragile. Something new had finally crystallized with this
shared experience, this final fulfilling culmination of all the long years
they'd circled each other warily, hungrily, not daring to take what they both
wanted.
Mulder was afraid to speak. He didn't want to break this new relationship,
delicate as it was, that they'd just forged. Sexual healing, he thought; it
wasn't a cliché at all.
Their earlier words returned to him.... 'You're going to break me.' 'No, I'm
going to fix you.' Mulder swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat as he
stared up into Alex's eyes. "Fixing you; fixing us," he whispered.
The panic and the uncertainty slunk away and Alex gave a little smile that was
almost shy. "Yeah," he agreed, then stopped.
Mulder stroked his face, loving the luxury of being able to help himself, to
just touch Alex however he wanted. He couldn't touch him before, couldn't LET
himself. But now...
With a moan, Alex dipped his head down and rested it against Mulder's chest,
just under his chin. Mulder could feel Alex hard inside of him. In fact, Alex
hadn't fully lost his erection despite the fact that he'd already come. Mulder
grinned.
He began to run his hands over Alex's neck and back. Alex's skin felt like
sun-warmed silk beneath his fingers. And that beautiful satiny cock twitched
inside of him. Mulder couldn't help himself, he chuckled deep in his throat at
this.
Alex silently shook for a moment, too, laughing. Then lifted his head,
grinning. "What can I say? You turn me on, Foxy."
Mulder stopped. "Um—"
Quickly, Alex said, "Look at it this way: my cock's up your ass and we've
finally made love instead of war for the first time since we've known each
other. Do you REALLY want to start quibbling over nicknames now, Foxy?"
"Actually, I kind of like that one," Mulder said, a little defensively. "I was
just wondering if you could touch me, this time."
"Oh. Sure." Alex reached down between them and grasped Mulder's cock. "Big
boy," he said.
Mulder sucked in a breath. Alex's sure hand was slowly and deftly bringing him
to hardness again.
OH FUCK—the pleasure was back, trickling back all along his bloodstream like
sugary little prickles along the his insides. When he closed his eyes, he could
see those lovely flashes of white lightening behind his eyelids. Especially
when he took deep breaths.
"Having sex with you is nearly a hazardous pursuit," he managed to say, weakly.
Alex just said, "If you can still speak, I'm doing something wrong." And he
leaned forward to shut Mulder up with his lips.
Oh yes, this was better. Alex's mouth on his, hot tongue sliding against his
own, and that hard cock shifting inside of him as Alex rocked back and forth a
little.
"Alex, please," Mulder begged, a little desperately, "Don't make me beg this
time."
Alex laughed, obviously unable to help himself. "Foxy, you're begging NOW."
"Yeah, well," Mulder said, grinning, "I want it hard. And fast. You know."
"A man after my own heart," Alex quipped, smiling, then shut his eyes, the smile
slipping away.
Mulder wondered, but was abruptly thrust out into orbit by the sudden push of
Alex's cock into him again, harder. Alex waited for a few seconds, then
repeated the motion. Then waited... waited until Mulder was practically
trembling waiting for it, then shoved into his ass hard again.
Speechless, Mulder could only hold on, taking it. It was different than a
steady fucking; Alex seemed to be making each thrust something of a little event
all its own.
"Is—THIS—hard—enough—for you?" Alex asked.
Mulder shuddered under him. "OH Christ...." he breathed. "Alex. Fuck me.
Faster."
Alex obediently increased the pace. "FUCK, Fox, God," he practically sobbed as
he drove into Mulder's ass over and over, his hand stuttering slightly in it's
accompanying rhythm as Alex fisted Mulder's cock.
Mulder started to feel that overwhelming bubble of pleasure rising over him
again. It was too soon—surely he wasn't going to—
Come. And come and come, and it was pouring out of him with chills and sparks
and like a slow, liquid river...
Alex's mouth seized on Mulder's neck again, a little too hard, sucking and
biting, his breath hot on Mulder's skin. Alex abruptly jerked atop him, then
began a wild series of bucking motions as he came with a sob, deep inside of
Mulder's ass.
Mulder felt a dark lassitude spreading through him; he felt perfectly calm like
he was surrounded by a comfortable blanket. He couldn't remember feeling this
good, ever, and realized he'd never experienced an afterglow quite like this.
One of the candles sputtered and winked out in a small pool of wax, having
reached the end of its life, and he twitched in spite of himself.
The room seemed a little darker, a little closer, just like Alex on top of him,
who now moved sluggishly as if gravity seemed twice as heavy now.
Drifting.
Alex climbed off of him suddenly, and went rummaging around somewhere out of
sight, to the side. He returned to Mulder a moment later with a towel and
gently cleaned him off, then himself.
Mulder began to pull the covers back up over them. Alex looked over at the
candles and then back at him. "I'll blow them out," he said.
Mulder nodded. Alex got up and padded around the room blowing out the
flickering flames. Mulder watched him move, naked in the light, silhouetted
against them. Then it really was dark and Alex was invisibly rejoining him on
the bed, climbing under the covers and sliding up against him.
Mulder opened his arms and Alex moved into them, tucking himself in, up close to
Mulder, in such a cozy fashion that Mulder giggled under his breath. "I didn't
think you were a snuggler."
"A snuggler?" Alex murmured against him, sleepily.
"A cuddler."
"Mm." Alex was obviously drifting off now. But his arm tightened around
Mulder.
Mulder grinned in the darkness. It seemed that they'd healed the rift, at last.
Healing
by Jami Wilsen
Mulder stood before the door, deliberating. Finally, he knocked. He didn't
have long to wait before it was flung open.
