The snow was falling lightly, dusting the shoulders of the dark figure that
stood alone beside the grave with white crystal flakes. The cold air was a
contrast to his numb lack of feeling inside. He felt nothing because he
knew it wasn't over yet. Still, the very act of being there, standing over
the grave of the only other person in the world who had meant anything to
him was enough to make him question his priorities. The anger that raced
through him at the thought of the idiots who had buried Mulder in the cold
ground after recovering him from the grays who had abducted him, was almost
enough to warm him.
What was important? Aliens? Conspiracies? Or the fact that beyond grabbing
Mulder and telling him point blank to his face that he loved him, there was
no way Mulder would ever listen? It was doubtful Mulder would hear him
anyway. The man had never picked up on the countless times in the past that
he'd said it without words.
Guilt followed the anger. He was slightly ashamed at having been
instrumental in leading Mulder right into their hands. If not for Marita's
and his intercession after Mulder and Scully's return from Oregon, Mulder
never would have been abducted.
He'd make up for it somehow. The rebel contacts he had were responding well
to his overtures. They had intimated they could provide a vaccine, for a
price.
Impassively staring down at the tombstone, Alex thought of Mulder's father,
mother and sister. And the few friends that Mulder had. He wondered if
Mulder would ever realize the similarity between them, for he too had no
family left and no one he really could call an unqualified friend.
How convenient that he should be wearing black, again. But how morbid too,
that his chosen color and vocation should reflect such melancholy surrounds.
For a moment, Alex wished he had brought a flower with him for this
graveside vigil. A red rose perhaps, as a dual symbol, out of respect for
the man buried beneath the ground at his feet, and also his abiding regard
and admiration, the deeper sentiment that he dared not name for fear of
getting completely morose. But it was a silly and rather inappropriate
notion considering that Mulder wasn't dead, just hibernating. Ironic that
the man was currently being kept alive by a deadly alien virus that was
slowly consuming him.
It was also ironic that this was the closest he could come into proximity
with Mulder, without incurring either physical injury or the cold shoulder— too bad that he wasn't conscious. He couldn't imagine Mulder actually
returning his affections. It was a ridiculous fantasy. He'd never act on
it. Besides, he'd never actually gone farther with another guy other than
mutual jerk-off sessions. Despite his reputation, Alex had never really had
time to pursue a full-fledged affair with another man. Beating someone off
was one thing; a homosexual relationship was another. He didn't consider it
in the same league. Through the past few years, he'd successfully fended
off the advances of several Elders, including the Smoking Man. Besides,
he'd never wanted another man beside Mulder. Hell, the last time he'd
gotten any had been that ill-advised and horrible interlude with Marita,
who'd screwed him—and then screwed him over.
It had been a purely personal indulgence, this pilgrimage to come here; a
luxury he couldn't afford, particularly when he needed to be elsewhere to
ensure Mulder's eventual return. He wondered how he was going to get the
body exhumed without causing a furor.
A part of him tore inside—to leave Mulder alone in this cold dark place
with no one, nothing to watch over him, only the stark trees and fellow dead
to keep him company.
He sighed and turned away, walking silently, purposefully, the pilot light
of hope still lit within his breast despite the futility of this enduring
affection he could never show nor have returned.
Three months later, U.S. Naval Hospital Annapolis, Maryland
As Krycek sped away from the parking garage, he licked absently at the split
in his lip, cursing the overeager attentions of Agent Doggett, Skinner's new
sidekick. He'd been plenty pissed when Doggett had charged up to his car
and attacked him. The satisfaction of dropping the vial before Doggett's
eyes had been of short duration. He doubted anyone would even guess that it
had been the second vial of vaccine intended for Billy Miles; useless as
Miles had already been turned, replicated, whatever.
A chill ran through Krycek as he considered how close they'd come to losing
Mulder to the same process. It had been a fine edge and a few tense
moments, getting close enough to Mulder's bedside in the hospital room and
injecting him before Skinner entered to discover him. At least they'd got
Mulder dug up before the change could occur. He'd been on the verge of
doing it himself.
He would have laughed if it weren't so pathetic. There was something sad
about a group of federal agents who couldn't understand the slightest
implication of the alien replication program and couldn't follow the
complexities involved, willing to believe the slightest inferences tossed in
their direction. They were still at square one, arguing over the existence
of extra-terrestrial life instead of following the new threat of the
replacement project. The only one with enough intelligence and experience to
pursue it successfully was of course Mulder, which was the reasoning Krycek
had given the rebels for why Mulder should be saved. Never mind his
personal feelings regarding the man who now 'lived' again.
The fact that Skinner grimly held on to the belief that he, Alex Krycek, was
the enemy and worse than the devil himself rather than the absurdly obvious
Kersh, was enough to make Krycek sigh to himself. It was becoming tedious
having to control Skinner through the nanobots; Skinner was a liability in
his previous uninformed attempts to aid Mulder, which had been the reason
why Krycek had decided to compromise him. Skinner could do less damage now,
rather than trying to protect Mulder's quest in his bumbling way. Krycek
tried to ignore the little voice that screamed 'personal!', at this thought
though. After all, Skinner got to see Mulder every day.
Kersh. They would have to learn the hard way on that front. He had enough
on Kersh to put the man away, frame him or even take him out, but it would
do little good to keep mopping up every problem and tying up every little
loose thread for them all. They'd learn nothing.
At least he'd gotten Skinner to question the normalcy of Scully's pregnancy.
He'd successfully shed a kernel of doubt in the man's mind and they'd all
now have to ask themselves why he'd raised it as an issue in the first
place. He snorted to himself. They were ostriches, living in a dream
world, unable to comprehend the severity and scale of the stakes, or the
real power of the foes they faced. It was pitiful how easy it was to
manipulate them into doing the right thing, playing on their own fear and
hatred of him.
Krycek drove off to keep his next rendezvous, to implement the next stage of
the resistance's efforts.
Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. 1:00 AM
Alex was in the basement office, going through the file on Mulder's
disappearance. He had several others on the desk as well; all of them
pertaining to the alien replacement program, although Scully and Doggett
didn't realize it. At a slight noise, he tensed and straightened.
The appearance of Mulder at the door was hardly a surprise, considering that
Mulder was no longer on the X-Files and had to obtain his access to them as
furtively as Krycek did, late at night. Alex remained sitting, watching as
Mulder came into the room and shut the door behind him.
"I've been expecting you to turn up eventually," Mulder said, his voice
giving away nothing.
"Yeah, I heard about your miraculous recovery."
Mulder came to stand in front of the desk, his arms crossed before him.
"Cut the crap, Krycek. At some point during my stay in that hospital;—you
got to me; you administered the vaccine and then scurried off into the
undergrowth again. You saved my life. Why?"
Alex's eyes narrowed. He couldn't see the point in trying to deny it.
Mulder often saw the obvious where others found it inconvenient to even try.
Casually, he said, "As ironic as it would have been to have an alien
walking around wearing your face, I assumed you'd rather keep it yourself.
Besides, the damage they could do by using your identity would have been
considerable, I'm sure you'll agree."
Mulder was thoughtfully chewing his lower lip. "Why threaten Scully's baby?
What's wrong with it?"
Alex allowed himself a guileless, wide smile. "Nothing whatever. I had to
get Skinner to pull you off life-support somehow, take some kind of action."
Mulder was nodding slowly. "To cover for the fact you'd given me the
vaccine."
Alex could tell Mulder was hardly satisfied with that answer and would
undoubtedly pursue the whole baby issue later. He stifled a sigh, resigning
himself to an impromptu, after-hours interrogation before he'd be able to
slip away.
But Mulder was seating himself on the edge of the desk in front of Alex,
staring down at him with a penetrating gaze. "So, what are you doing here,
a little extra-curricular research?" His tone was not unfriendly, but
neither was it welcoming.
"You know as well as I do, that the answer lies in the Census Bureau data,"
Alex said. "That stunt you pulled with your geek computer friends nearly
sent the program into the next phase prematurely. We've had a hell of a
time covering the problems that caused."
Mulder raised his brows at him. "'We'? Who are you working for now?"
Alex smiled, allowing himself a muted chuckle. "Mulder, you should know by
now that no one pulls my strings."
A dark, cold look slid over Mulder's face. "Yeah, that's right. Instead,
you pull theirs. Like Skinner's." It was a direct accusation aimed at
Alex's palm-piloting control over Skinner.
"The man got himself into that position with his wavering loyalties. He had
already severely compromised your work more than once." Alex gave him a
puzzled look. "Don't pretend you werenít aware of that. I'm not
questioning his reliability, just his means. He needed help in deciding
which side of the fence to sit on."
"I'm not interested in whatever justifications you come up with for
tormenting and blackmailing my friends. I'm a little more concerned with
your reasons for saving my life. If you think I'm going to be grateful to
you, you're wrong."
Nonchalantly, Alex said, "You're kidding, right? I'd have to believe you'd
been replaced after all, if you were." Gratitude? From Mulder? He
unsuccessfully tried to quash the little inner twinge of hurt that Mulder's
words still evoked in him. Every damn time. He ignored it. He couldn't
afford a loss of face right now, especially as he was too glad to have this
little midnight confrontation at last. He'd wondered how long he'd have to
wait, before being in the right time and place to see Mulder up and about
after his 'miracle' recovery in the naval hospital.
Mulder was watching him, searching his every word, every facial expression.
Alex resisted the urge to squirm under that intense, sharp scrutiny.
Slowly, Mulder said, "You know something, Alex? If I didn't know better,
I'd say you missed me."
Whoa. Too close to the bone. Far too perceptive, from the Mulder he'd come
to expect. Fists flying and hurling abuse, yes. An actual attempt to
understand his motives, his point of view? Unheard of. Ignoring this, and
attempting to distract Mulder by bringing up something certain to rile him,
he answered, "Did you know that Scully's baby is taking longer to come to
term than a normal human child? Funny, that; how no one seems to
acknowledge the differences. The kid will scan just fine and appear
completely normal, but nobody wants to ask the really difficult questions.
Like how it got there. And who the father is."
"It isn't mine. At least, not to my knowledge. Would it bother you if it
was?" Mulder was still needling him, throwing him a sharp look at the way
he'd sidestepped Mulder's comment completely.
Shit. This was not going well. Mulder was like a terrier, refusing to let
it go. Alex had to find a way to distract him from the fact that he was
entirely too pleased to even be having this meeting in the first place, not
to mention having Mulder all to himself. Alone. In this room, after all
the long months of worrying that Mulder would never return from that cursed
ship, never survive the long months buried in the cold ground, never recover
from the virus despite the introduction of the vaccine into his system at
the last minute. Adopting an equally probing tone of voice, Alex replied,
"Not at all. You've been walking down that aisle with her for the past
eight years. It's about time you made an honest woman of her."
Mulder actually grinned a little at this. "I don't believe it. You're
jealous."
Fuck. He let himself snicker derisively, allowing the building tension he
could feel rising inside him all along his nerves to flow into it, lending
it enough candor to make it believable. "If Dana Scully was the last woman
on earth and we were trapped together on a desert island, I'd be choosing a
mate from among the apes in the trees. Besides not being my type, she hates
my guts. She'd put a bullet in me first."
Before Mulder could reply and correct him, claim that he was jealous of
Scully, not of Mulder himself, Alex added, "The Smoker certainly had a soft
spot for her, though. Too bad he fell down the stairs before I could ask
him about his involvement with her sudden pregnancy."
Mulder's eyes flickered, his expression suddenly looking less smug and
predatory and made a complete 180-degree turnaround to the 'protective
partner and friend', concerned for Scully's safety. "Are you insinuating
that that son of a bitch had anything to do with this? What do you know?"
Alex casually opened the desk drawer and took out Mulder's nameplate. "I'm
surprised you never considered the possibility. I already told you that he
wanted to revive the conspiracy."
"You also told Skinner that I knew about the vaccine, that my father
developed it. You're full of shit, Krycek."
Back on well-tread ground. Alex let himself bask in the sudden relief at
returning to the more familiar kind of discussion with Mulder. Regarding
the nameplate momentarily before looking up to meet Mulder's eyes, he put it
on the desk between them, resting on the files. Mildly, he said, "It must
really eat you up: being taken off the X-Files, having to work around
Skinner's new lapdog."
But Mulder had refolded his arms across his chest and had gone back to
studying Alex. "If I didn't know better, Krycek, I'd say that you're
betraying just how much you actually care. Every time we turn around, there
you are. You turn up like a bad penny underfoot, always managing to find a
way to get our attention. It's almost like... you don't want us to overlook
you. You can't stand not being included, being part of the action."
Alex laughed out loud, briefly, saying, "That's what I like about you,
Mulder. You always manage to find the most outlandish explanation for
what's really a very simple matter. Did you ever stop to think that maybe
we're on the same side, and always have been? My methods may not exactly
meet your moral requirements but at least I'm holding up my own end of
things."
"Really." Mulder sounded unconvinced. "So why'd you save me, then? You
still haven't answered me."
"Come on, get real, Mulder." Alex let a little impatient disgust color his
voice. "How long do you think it will be before the rebels decide that it'd
be a far less waste of time and energy to simply scour the planet clean of
the grays, the Black Oil, us as potential hosts... the whole fucking mess?
We're running on borrowed time; we always have been."
"So what? What's it to you? See, I can't really buy a word of what you
tell me, because you never give me any indication as to your real motives.
Why should you care? You've never shown us before that you care about
anything but your saving your own ass."
Alex sat in the chair looking up at him, debating the possibility that
Mulder was simply playing for time to involve him in this conversation until
he could corner him, jump him, or even bring him in. Which would be
counter-productive to Mulder's own interests, even if the man couldn't see
that. "I have just as much to lose as you do."
Mulder smiled at him, surprisingly. "That practically begs the question.
What do I have to lose?"
Alex couldn't find anything to say to that, certainly not quickly enough
before Mulder continued. His position had reverted to the defensive again
and it wasn't pleasant.
"I've changed, Alex. One doesn't pull through a Lazarus stunt like I did
without experiencing a few shifts of perspective. I've had to re-examine
every angle of my life, and my search for the truth. I've had to
acknowledge that some truths are harder to accept than others, and that some
of them even lie in unexpected places."
Alex wasn't happy with the way Mulder was watching him now. Those hazel
eyes seemed too knowing, too deep. Like he was peeling away all of Alex's
defenses and daring him to voice his own truths, his own agenda. Stalling,
his voice rougher than he intended, he said, "Unfortunately, the stakes are
somewhat higher than your personal edification and continued existence. But
I might have guessed that you'd imagine all of it revolves around you again,
somehow."
Mulder grinned at him, the unexpectedness of having that brightness turned
on him causing an accompanying flutter inside both Alex's chest and his
belly. "Not at all. I'm beginning to learn that maybe it revolves around
you, actually. After all, every single goddamned time I turn around and try
to learn something about the conspiracies, the cover-ups, the alien
invasion, I come across you." He caught Alex's eye and held it, adding,
"Tovarish."
The meaningful way that Mulder stressed that last word sent a jolt of dismay
through Alex, as it conjured all too easily that night long ago when he'd
come to Mulder's apartment, bearing warnings, a rekindled torch to carry— and a kiss he'd dared to bestow and damn the consequences or what Mulder
might then believe. Certainly it hadn't stopped Mulder from attempting to
attack him when he and Marita had accompanied Skinner down to this same
office before Mulder's abduction.
Alex's gaze dropped to the nameplate on the desk, carefully keeping his face
schooled from revealing how this was affecting him. It was a dangerous
dance with this man, every time they met. And Mulder seemed to be going
straight in for the kill on this occasion too. Before, it had been easy to
keep Mulder off-balance, focused on the heavier issues looming over them.
But this was a different Fox Mulder, one that seemed clearer, sharper,
quieter and more perceptive than before. Mulder's words about the effects
of being dead and coming back hadn't been lost on him. A flash of panic
began like the rising of floodwaters somewhere deep inside him, threatening
to undermine his careful hold on this encounter and his composure.
Alex gave him a serious look. "Maybe you're finally getting the point, that
as much as you wanted to believe it, I was never the enemy and that my part
in this has been as important as yours."
"Or maybe I'm just finally understanding what it is that always brings you
back here, Alex." Mulder stood up and stretched. "I think you can't stay
away. I think you don't even realize it yourself, what it is that keeps
drawing us together."
I suppose you're going to wax lyrical about our shared past now, Alex wanted
to say sarcastically, but he held his tongue. And said instead, "Mulder?
Am I supposed to believe that you think you've finally figured me out?
Jesus, I've been pretty much an open book—you're the one who's been
pretending that you don't know."
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, I'm getting the exceptionally strong indication that
you've known for a long time, yourself."
Alex stopped. Known what? Were they actually talking about the same thing?
He didn't have to ask it. Mulder knew he was thinking it and in his next
breath answered Alex with, "We have a connection. We always have. But I'm
going to call your bluff this time, Alex. I'll even go so far as to say
that you can't help yourself, any more than I can. Attraction, pheromones,
a chemical response on an instinctive level, the sublimation of desire into
a more acceptable form of contact such as physical violence—call it what
you will. I believe that we share a connection that both of us have been
fighting for years now."
Alex found himself speechless. He'd never expected Mulder to state it so
baldly. Now that he had, Alex wondered how he could possibly respond. He
sat there, feeling trapped. He couldn't exactly deny it, even if he wanted
to. And he wasn't sure he should bother. Still, the longer he dithered and
couldn't answer, the more it proved Mulder correct in his assessment of
their relationship.
Mulder must have picked up on this because in the next moment, he was
chuckling. "I believe I owe you a kiss, at any rate."
No. No fucking way was he buying this. He looked up at Mulder, his eyes
wide, daring him to follow through on that one. Calling his bluff,
indeed! Hell, if he didn't know better, he'd say that Mulder was practically
asking for it. "Yeah? Suppose I tell you that you can kiss my ass?"
Mulder's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "Careful, Alex. I might just
call you on that one."
Alex's eyes narrowed as he considered Mulder. Mulder had to be jerking him
around. "Sure, Fox, I'll take you up on that sometime." But he couldn't
stop the surge of pain that leaped into him at this. He couldn't trust that
Mulder was serious. It had to be a game, a way for Mulder to try to get at
him in some new way, to break him. His eyes fell to the nameplate as he
silently cursed himself for a goddamned fool in allowing Mulder to gain the
upper hand.
But Mulder was perching on the edge of the desk again. Mulder sighed
through his nose. Wearily, he said, "Alex, don't you think we've gone
around this thing enough times? We're both sick of it. I'd like to hope
that we could progress beyond the usual routine. How about we start over?"
He lifted his chin, saying, "Thank you for saving my life. What do you want
in return?"
But Alex was angry now. It was his last defense against Mulder's hold on
him, Mulder's new angle, how to get to him. "A little credit would nice.
You know? Some acknowledgement, for the part I've played beyond providing
the role of 'evil bastard' for you to rail against and pin the blame on?
Sure, I can hardly ask you to forgive some of my previous actions but hell,
Mulder—I've been on the same side as you, that's what you've never
understood. Why else would I save your skin? Besides, I told you already,
it would hardly serve anyone's purpose to have an alien running around in
it."
Mulder chuckled. "I can only imagine. Just think what Scully would say.
And Skinner." He laughed, shaking his head. "Okay, for the sake of
resolving this, I'm willing to admit that you wanted the bastards to fail as
much as I did. And the credit for taking down the Consortium has to go to
you, too. 'Fight the Future', what a joke. I suppose I'll have to thank
you for the Smoking Bastard's demise, as well?" At Alex's brief look of
self-satisfaction, he nodded. "All right. Which leaves the fact that I
can't trust you; you betrayed me—and my partner, and regardless of which
side you're on we can't count on you sharing our agenda. Which brings us
full circle again: what do you want?"
Alex swallowed, wondering what he could possibly say that Mulder would
accept. At this point, it seemed futile. Mulder was leading the game down
some new path, and Alex could only follow along and try to come out with as
little egg on his face as possible.
But Mulder surprised him by lowering his voice, softening it. "I'll bet
that what you really want isn't too far from what I want. From what anyone
wants. A life, a chance to put down roots, a sense of belonging. To find
some kind of meaning or stability in your life that isn't threatened by the
thought of impending invasion and the life-death struggle to survive. Am I
right?"
Talk about cutting to the quick, Alex thought. He didn't say anything.
Mulder continued, his smooth voice dropping near to a husky whisper,
"Friendship, the kind you can count on."
Mulder would have said more but Alex's eyes flew upwards to meet his as he
snapped, "If you're through with the pop psychology, could I get a word in,
do you think? D'you really imagine that I believe in those things, for even
an instant? At this point it's a pipe dream and frankly, I don't have much
faith in it. I can't afford to be unrealistic, and right now—we're
fighting a losing battle." He added in a cynical tone, "In case you hadn't
noticed."
"Exactly. Why? Why do you bother?" Mulder persisted. "See, I think
you're so conditioned to act from your sense of personal survival that
you've lost your way. You're like a soldier in wartime that's forgotten the
reason why he's fighting. Just—going through the motions. But what do
you expect to gain?"
"Jesus, Mulder. Talking with you—I'm supposed to ask what is the point,
right? I guess it's all over for Krycek, isn't it? Hell, I should go cut my
wrists now."
"Not at all. I'm asking you to tell me. Because I can't figure you out,
Alex. Because the only reason I can come up with for why you keep showing up
here is—" Mulder stopped, midstream.
A sense of foreboding crept into Alex's peripheral awareness. He snickered
softly. "Let me guess; you think I'm the lonely bad guy, so hard up for
companionship that I'll even hang around for the occasional beating from the
righteous Fibbie, right?"
"Not exactly," Mulder said, with a straight face. He hesitated, and then
said, "I have a proposition for you. A suggestion."
"Business or pleasure?" Alex countered.
"Pleasure." Mulder was drumming his fingers on the desk. "I'm wondering
how it might be if we were to try to work out our differences a little
differently than usual. Instead of beating each other up, we could beat
each other off."
Alex stared at him as the crude forthrightness of Mulder's statement rang in
his ears. "You— Let me get this straight: you're actually suggesting that
—that we... what, initiate high-school circle-jerk sessions instead of
using our fists and guns?"
Mulder frowned slightly. "Actually, I was going more for the relationship
angle, myself. You know; intimacy, bonding. Companionship, you know?"
Alex felt trapped as a cold leaden sensation slipped over him. There was
danger here. If he believed this, he was as good as dead, anyway. Mulder
would have him for breakfast. He was lost. He couldn't afford to—
Mulder was getting up and slowly coming around the side of the desk to stand
beside Alex. Alex looked up at him from the chair, wondering what the
fuck he was supposed to do now—Mulder would hit him—He flinched as
Mulder came closer and he prepared to get up, tensing—
And then all sense of familiar reality or rightness in the world vanished as
Mulder leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth. Firmly. Once.
Letting his lips linger against Alex's, just briefly, before pulling back
and remaining there with one hand against the desk, the other on the arm of
the chair. Mulder licked his lips thoughtfully and said, "Is it just me, or
was that really good?"
His heart pounding, Alex could only look up at him, thinking, he's lost it.
He's lost his mind. For good, this time. Really lost it. "Mulder," he
said carefully, "are you feeling okay?"
Mulder's answering grin didn't really help. "I can guess what you're
thinking. That I've lost my mind. But seriously, can you think of a better
way for us to work out our mutual problem constructively?"
"Which is what, again?" Alex blinked and shook his head slightly, as if to
clear it.
Mulder reached out a hand to trace a warm finger along Alex's lips, then his
jaw. Quietly, he mused, "We've always tried to solve it with blows, rather
than blowjobs."
Alex's face darkened as he pulled away from the deadly fascination of Mulder
touching his face. "I don't know where or when you got the impression that
I'm available, but I can assure you that I'm not interested."
Mulder raised his eyebrows at him. "Really. Really?" He frowned, and then
leaned down to whisper in Alex's ear, "Liar. You want this as much as I
do."
With a slight growl, Alex pushed him away. Standing up to be able to defend
himself against this new, different kind of onslaught, he said, hoarsely,
"Talk about projection. You must really be hard up if you think that
coming on to me like this is going to get you laid." Alex stopped, as
Mulder's hand went to the front of his own shirt.
Mulder was undoing the top button of his shirt. Undoing his tie. Alex's
brain tried to wrap around the reality that Mulder was actually unbuttoning
his shirt in front of Alex, standing there, not taking his eyes from Alex's
face. "You don't believe me," Mulder said, unnecessarily, his words somehow
completely disjointed from his actions. He had undone his shirt and it was
open, revealing the t-shirt he had on underneath. He took off his jacket
and then the shirt too, followed by the t-shirt, baring his chest. He
dropped the tie and jacket along with the shirt onto the desk, partially
obscuring his nameplate. Then his hands went to his pants.
Alex shuddered and had to suppress a hissing gasp from escaping him. Fuck,
this was—it was too much—it wasn't fair—not like this...
But Mulder was already dropping his pants and his hands had gone to his
boxers.
"Stop," Alex said suddenly. "Just—just stop. Hold on. What... what do
you think you're doing?"
Mulder chuckled at him. "I think it's obvious. Isn't it?" He began to
pull down his boxers, revealing his ample, full erection...
...and it was as big and beautiful as Alex had always imagined, even
though the reality of this was searing his brain with inevitability and the
longing to just dive into this and not let go... To drop to his knees and
take that incredible Mulder cock into his mouth and...
The sheer torment of the possibility of revenge and betrayal, let alone the
knowledge that this was purely physical and could never be what he had
always wanted it to be, was enough to force him to look away. Mulder was
standing naked there, and the fact that he himself was still fully dressed
and they were there in that same damned basement office where he'd
fantasized about this happening for so long, was sufficient to make him
close his eyes and say bitterly, "It isn't real."
And then Mulder was stepping close to him, pulling him into his arms, his
skin hot and deliciously available, saying, "Sure it is, if you want it to
be. Just let go, Alex. Stop fighting me."
The warring desires to run as far as possible from this temptation or just
to give in, to take whatever Mulder would give him, made him cling to Mulder
frozenly, helplessly, waiting for Mulder to say it was just a joke, just
another way to repay Krycek for all the times he'd hurt him. To his shame
he felt a lump in his throat, and when he finally let out a breath it was
almost a broken moan against Mulder's shoulder, his neck. Like something
out of a dream, Mulder's arms were going around him, holding him close,
helping to steady him, and Alex tried to ignore the fact that the reality of
his missing left arm made it quite impossible for him to return the embrace.
An eternal reminder of his own flawed character in Mulder's eyes, it was
more than a scar. It represented his missing 'moral standards' and sense of
values for which Mulder forever considered him unworthy. It wasn't for this
that Alex was afraid—he had the horrible sinking feeling that this was a
game. And in the end, he stood to lose exactly what he'd always feared:
more than dignity or pride... his heart. Mulder was holding his heart in
his hands, and he found himself shaking with the knowledge that Mulder could
break him with a single word.
His answering arousal was like a separate, automatic reaction outside of the
conflict raging inside of him. He felt a sense of futile inevitability as
Mulder's hands began to loosen his jacket, his belt, his own clothes and
undo his jeans to free his own aching hardness. Mulder slipped his jacket
off his shoulders and helped him shrug out of it. He was unable to stop the
groan as Mulder's warm hand closed around his bare cock, and pulled them
closer together to rub with Mulder's own.
"Alex," Mulder managed, his voice sounding drunken with mutual arousal.
Alex glanced up to meet Mulder's eyes, which were glazed over and feverish,
burning into his own, dark and full of obvious desire. Astonished at what he
saw in them, Alex realized that Mulder wasn't pretending. In fact, Mulder
had no idea what he was doing, was simply deciding to do 'something' with
him, anything...
"Mulder, what do you want me to do?"
Mulder bit his lower lip. "Whatever comes naturally, I guess. Haven't you
ever done this before?"
Alex allowed himself a little laugh. "I guess I was kind of saving it up
for now."
Leaning back against the edge of the desk to steady himself, Mulder pulled
Alex to him, and Alex suddenly found himself released from the paralysis
that held him earlier. He was devouring Mulder alive, his mouth roaming
hotly over every inch of bare flesh that met his lips, tonguing against
sensitive areas in an attempt to elicit more of those maddening gasps and
moans from Mulder's throat. Bucking intermittently against Mulder's body,
he enjoyed the sheer sensuality of the act, making a little wordless sound
of complaint when Mulder held him back. But Mulder was turning around and
actually bending over the desk, leaning forward and exposing himself to him,
even moving his feet apart slightly, his legs and buttocks quivering.
Alex stood in absolute shock. He never, ever would have expected this. He
stepped up close behind Mulder, letting his cock slide naturally along that
crack, between those pale, perfect asscheeks, leaning over Mulder's back and
saying, "Are you sure you want this?"
"As long—as long as you're careful," Mulder said, a note of apprehension
in his voice and it dawned on Alex...
"You haven't ever been fucked, have you?"
There was a momentary silence, followed by a nervous chuckle, "Yeah, I've
always been the fucker, not the fuckee."
Alex rested against him, just enjoying the closeness and surprising intimacy
of this position they shared. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh,
loving the way Mulder shivered slightly as his breath moved over the bare
skin of Mulder's back. He placed his hand at Mulder's hip, resting it there
possessively. "We don't have to do this now. If you aren't up to it—" He
swallowed, wondering if he could bear not to move and slide the head of his
cock against that oh-so-close and tight opening and
just...nudge...slightly... The urge to do so was almost more than he could
handle, simply from the fact that he was acutely aware of Mulder's trust,
Mulder expecting him to know what to do.
"Maybe we should—use protection?"
Mulder's suggestion brought him back to himself with a bump. Right. He
sighed, his breath on him again making Mulder squirrel back against him
slightly, and said, "Have you got anything?"
Sardonically, Mulder said, "I think Scully and Doggett will have cleaned out
my desk. Uh, the desk... So, no."
Alex grinned against him. "No problem." He reluctantly moved back, lifting
away from Mulder's satin-hot skin and holding his jeans up, retrieved his
jacket from the floor. Fishing around in one of the pockets, he withdrew a
condom with no small sense of satisfaction. Tearing it open with his teeth,
he began to unroll it onto his cock, which was now straining and red from
the events that had led up to this moment. He spat on his hand and thickly
rubbed the saliva all over it.
This final moment of truth, the only real truth he'd ever really share with
the man who still leaned over against the desk waiting for him. Stepping up
close to Mulder again, this time he pointed his cock unerringly against that
coveted hole and then leaned back, down to drape himself over Mulder,
enjoying the sensation of his belly and thighs resting against Mulder's
body.
Mulder's breath hitched in his lungs and Alex replaced his hand at Mulder's
waist. "Tell me you want this," he whispered to Mulder, his voice husky and
rough in his own ears, ragged and he hoped not too obviously desperate. "I
want to hear you say it."
Mulder cleared his throat and swallowed. "Alex, I want it—I want you.
Stop stalling already and just do it." Indeed, Mulder's breath was coming
very fast and shallow, obviously tensing up even as he made his declaration.
Closing his eyes, Alex allowed the momentum of this act to sweep him away,
and couldn't help the delectable sensation of having won as it raced through
him, as he finally pressed the tip of his cock into that tightly closed
pucker and pushed. An inch, maybe more, taking pity at Mulder's sudden
strangled sound and stopping, wondering where the hell he was dredging up
the restraint not to shove in hard, all the way, balls-deep. The sensation
of the gripping, silky hot core of Mulder's ass on the end of his cock was
frighteningly good; he couldn't see how he was supposed to make do without
it, now that he'd experienced it once. This is was something way beyond
what even his wildest fantasies had ever imagined could occur between them.
He'd never supposed that Mulder would just... turn around and offer himself
like this.
When he finally began to push back against Alex of his own accord, Alex knew
Mulder had finally acclimatized a little, and obliged him by sliding in a
little more, stopping as Mulder sucked in another suddenly harsh breath,
almost a wince. He could afford to be gentle; God, he could afford to make
this as easy as possible for his beloved Fox, he nearly pulled out and would
have used his fingers at this point but Mulder grew impatient and finally
reached behind himself to pull Alex's hips towards him. The result was that
Alex sank fully into Mulder's heated depth and groaned aloud at the feeling
of being so tightly encased inside the other man's body. "Oh, fuck," he
mouthed against the back of Mulderís neck, and then felt the exquisite
sensation of Mulder's body quivering slightly on him, pulling at his
embedded cock, while Mulder shook lightly with silent laughter at his
candor.
"Yeah," and then the words that reached down into Alex's body, bypassing his
brain altogether, forcing him to begin to move against Mulder, sliding over
and over into that tight ass, "Do it, Alex; fuck me. Now."
It was too good, it wouldn't last, it would be over too soon. The
open-mouthed cries that Mulder was making with every thrust deep into him,
the delight at finally having this man he'd desired for so long, the heat
and the scent and smell of their bodies coming together, the way Mulder's
ass seemed made just for him—It all intermingled into a single river of
overflowing, overwhelming sensation of pure sexual need, and he was just an
animal, unable to control the rhythm of his hips any longer. Thrusting
harder against Mulder, hearing the incredible sound of his flesh actually
slapping against Mulder's and the feeling of his balls colliding with
Mulder's, Alex couldn't stop the fast, jerking motions as he felt his legs
and his own body seized, as if by some unknown power, to drive into Mulder
repeatedly.
The slow, liquid slide of electric pleasure grabbed him by the balls and
slowly rose up along his legs, his sides, and his front, up to his head,
making his face hot with the need to fuck Mulder harder and harder. Finally
the pleasure waved over him with a crashing finality, pooling in his belly
and making him sob against Mulder's smooth back as his insides melted and
raced out of his cock like white fire, rushing liquid lightening into that
taut, welcoming ass, every nerve in him aware only of the tightness that
gripped his hard, captured prick. Mulder's own hand had gone to his cock at
some point, reaching down to pull and bring himself off even as Alex came
inside him. Writhing back against him, Mulder was shouting out loud, his
voice tinged with tremolos of unspoken emotions.
Sometime in the last few minutes during orgasm, Alex's brain had melted and
he was dimly aware of Mulder giving a weird moan under him. Finally, Mulder
said, "This is getting uncomfortable. Do you mind if we move?"
Coming back to himself, Alex swallowed. He didn't want to end this. He
wanted time to stop, right now, right here. He allowed his softening cock
to slip out of Mulder, the regret coming sharply now to sting him, as he
silently reached up to remove the condom. Mulder's sated sigh told volumes,
yet he couldn't face Mulder now. He stepped away and let the used condom
drop into the wastebasket with the secretive pleasure of knowing that
whoever emptied the trash was going to find it there. He began to pull up
his jeans and zip them, looking for his jacket and considering putting it
on. He was abruptly pulled into Mulder's arms and kissed soundly, the
sudden awareness of the act catching them both by surprise as they both went
still. Then Mulder parted his lips and began to renew an assault on Alex's
mouth, sweeping his tongue against Alex's to dance against it with wet,
long, twirling strokes.
Alex was lost. He didn't ever want to be found. But after a long time
spent drinking in this perfect taste and experience of Mulder, he found
himself released and opened his eyes finally to see Mulder looking at him
with a somewhat panicked question in that hazel regard. Mulder pressed his
lips together, then bit them, obviously thinking. Alex wanted to shake his
head. The man stood there completely naked, recently fucked by yours truly,
and with a complete lack of shame or regard for his nudity. It was enough
to make his cock twitch again already. But he was caught by Mulder's
expression and waiting for his verdict. Finally, Mulder said, "Would you
believe I'm getting cold?"
Alex picked up his jacket and shrugged into it, before he sat down heavily
in the chair, pushing it back slightly to give Mulder room as he waited for
Mulder to pick up his clothes and put them on once more.
He felt shell-shocked and could only wonder at the horribly pathetic and
needy thought running around and around in his head, 'please don't let this
be the only time, please. Don't let it be just this once'.
As Mulder straightened, adjusting his jacket now and leaving his tie undone
around his neck, straightening his sleeves and cuffs, he met Alex's eye.
"Shall we get out of here?"
A sickening sense of hope rose within him as he tried to say with a
nonchalance he didn't feel, "Sure."
Mulder paused, a slow grin creeping almost boyishly onto his face. Finally,
he said, "Come on, Alex. Let's go."
Standing, Alex said, "So, where to?"
Mulder shrugged, saying, "My place, I guess. Unless you have a better
idea?"
The renewed anticipation and longing lurched through Alex's insides with a
terrible yearning for more, more and more. He found himself following along
behind Mulder down the corridor to the door leading to the stairs almost
docilely. Making their way to Mulder's car, Alex shook himself. "I'll meet
you there," he said. "I need to bring my car around."
Mulder stopped, regarding him. He looked vulnerable now, and a little lost
himself. Alex realized swiftly that this had to be strange for Mulder, too.
He'd just let Alex fuck him. Alex said, "I swear to you, I'll be there."
He stopped, closing the gap between them and with a complete disregard for
their surroundings gave him a brief hug, almost unable to bear the brevity
and closeness of it. Holding Mulder was fucking addictive, it was a
compulsion. Stepping away, he repeated, "I'll drive straight there, Mulder.
I give you my word."
Mulder was watching him go back away towards where his car was parked with a
thoughtful expression. Alex grinned back him, briefly. Then picked up his
pace. He was willing to bet he'd beat Mulder there.
Then cursed quietly to himself as he realized that he'd left all the files
out, behind him in Mulder's—he corrected himself—the X-Files basement
office. Oh, who the hell cared at this point? Let them wonder at who it
might have been. And besides, they deserved it, for not keeping the desk
stocked with such essential items as condoms and lube, along with the
stapler, pens and paper clips.
He drove all the way to Mulder's apartment building with a sense of dÈjý vu.
He was almost lightheaded with the thought that maybe, just maybe, he had a
chance. A chance to hold his dreams in his hand and not watch them blow
away like dust in the wind, a chance at happiness, finally to revel in the
warmth of Mulder's regard, however precariously. It was at that point that
he began to worry, to doubt. But Mulder had actually given himself up to
him. Had let Alex possess him! But then again, Mulder might be having
second thoughts; might be remembering just to whom it was he'd given his
ass. Maybe it was just something in the heat of the moment, opportunistic
as people are sometimes. There had been no mistaking Mulder's insecurity
afterwards, in the underground car park—he'd worried that Alex would split
and run. The act of having to reassure Mulder that he'd not desert him had
nearly broken Alex's heart. How could he even begin to doubt that Alex meant
it, was sincere and had real feelings for him... And it was with this last
thought that he caught himself. Maybe Mulder had been taking a chance on
him, had not been sure and had been acting purely on his own desires.
Speculation, maybe, but actually, he wondered how much he'd given away with
his own eyes and gestures, how much Mulder had actually read there and how
much Mulder had been merely guessing.
By the time he'd pulled up to park in the street below Mulder's apartment
and had taken the lube he'd stashed in the glove compartment to put in his
pocket along with his keys, he was feeling simultaneously pulled by dread
and hope out of the car. Mulder's car was already there. Mulder had broken
speed limits to get back before him. He grinned at the thought. And
ruthlessly squashed the sudden sensation of doubt that threatened to choke
him. He made his way upstairs to number 42 and then hesitated, drawing a
breath before knocking on the door. It was flung open a moment later, to
reveal Mulder standing there, saying hastily, "Get in here."
He came into the room, and Mulder shut the door behind him, locking it. "I
need a shower," Mulder said, "So help yourself to a drink or whatever.
There's beer in the fridge. And food. They stocked it up for me and I
still haven't gotten around to eating it all." He padded away, leaving Alex
to wander around aimlessly before finally taking off his jacket, leaving it
on one of the chairs, and repairing to the kitchen to take Mulderís
excellent advice and grab a beer.
The novelty of being welcome in Mulder's apartment, in his space, in his
home... it was enough to drive home to Alex with a little thrill of wonder,
Mulder wanted this too. He did. Or he wouldn't have allowed him to come
in. Alex allowed himself a private smile, and drifted back into the living
room to survey the fish.
He finally sat down on the couch, wondering how the hell he fit into
Mulder's life and if Mulder realized just how insane it was to actually let
Alex stay here at all.
It was all moving so fast, and he couldn't account for the sudden change in
temperature between them. The heat had always been understated, unspoken,
ignored. Now it was all open season and up for grabs, and he couldn't shake
the memory of driving into Mulder's tight, beautiful ass over and over—
Mulder was standing in front of him with his own beer in hand, looking down
at him, with his wet hair still sleek and the glow of freshness from the
shower. "Want one? Go ahead, if you like."
He looked up at him, wondering if he should say something, anything.
Finally, he settled on, "Thanks. For the beer. And for letting me in."
Mulder slowly came forward to kneel against the couch, near him, leaning
forward to kiss him, the double union of their mouths mingling the taste of
beer with their lips suddenly sealed together. It felt too right, too
perfect. It couldn't be this simple. It surely couldn't be this easy.
Mulder broke it off, looking down at him to say, "If you want to get a
shower at all, you'd better go now before we start something right here."
"Thanks." Alex couldn't help the smile that came over him at this as he got
to his feet and went to the bathroom. While he showered (in Mulder's
bathroom) and washed his hair (using Mulder's shampoo), he sighed at the
knowledge that Mulder might be giving it second thoughts even now. He
washed carefully, attentively, trying to ignore his hardening cock even as
the hot rivulets of water ran over him, edging him closer to sensuous
imaginings of what Mulder might allow.
By the time he'd wrapped himself in a towel, however, and was getting
dressed once more, he was painfully aware of the fact that he was indulging
in completely unrealistic hopes. There was no way that any lasting
commitment would be possible for them, even if Mulder wanted it, simply
because of the barriers of their separate lives, their pursuits, the way
their chosen paths had so wildly diverged all those years before.
When he stepped back out to face Mulder once more, it was with the stern
resolve not to start wildly believing in his own fantasies again. Beggars
can't be choosers, he thought. He was lucky enough just to have this much.
So much for pride. He'd take whatever Mulder would give him.
Mulder was sitting on the couch, having already finished his beer. He
looked up at Alex as he came in. Alex was not quite prepared for the moment
of actually seeing Mulder's face once more , or for the way that Mulder's
eyes lit up. Fuck. As if he could deny this man anything. He went and sat
down beside Mulder, reaching out for his own beer and hastily downing some
of it, both for fortification and for something to do.
Mulder said quietly, "Once wasn't enough, was it?" He stated it as a fact,
something to be agreed upon and shared.
Alex returned, "No. But I've waited this long; I think I can afford to be
patient. Whatever you're comfortable with, Mulder." And that was being
generous, he thought.
Mulder turned to peer at him calmly. After a bit, he asked, "How long have
you been in love with me, Alex?"
Alex choked on his beer, and ended up having to swig a bit more just to
clear his throat. Sniffing and trying to get the sensation of backed-up
beer out of his nasal passages, he managed with his eyes watering slightly,
"You don't pull your punches, do you? Even figuratively."
Mulder grinned a bit shamefacedly. "Sorry about that. So, how long?"
Alex looked down at the floor. Finally, when the silence had grown a bit
too obvious and unbearable with Mulder clearly waiting him out, he answered,
"I don't know. It was just a fascination at first. Somewhere along the way
it—it got out of hand and became something else."
"Me neither. I mean, I didn't exactly realize it until that night you kissed
me on the cheek. You left me sitting in the dark with a hard-on, about a
thousand questions and the unmistakable impression that you wanted more from
me than just a midnight errand on an Air Force base."
Damn it. It sank into Alex's mind that Mulder had used the 'L' word. He
closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. It was Mulder's hand on his
leg that made them snap open again, with a slight jump. He was instantly
chagrined at being so jumpy.
"Hey, are you okay?"
He drained his beer. "Yeah. Look, I just want you to know that I don't
expect anything, here. From you. I'm not—"
Mulder interrupted him with a smile. "I am. I expect you to stay the night
and not to run off pretending you don't want this the way I do. I expect
you to be honest with me for once. And to give me the benefit of the
doubt and trust me."
Alex threw him a slightly accusatory look. "Oh?"
"Yeah. You're acting like a wild thing, like I make one wrong move and
you'll be off out the door."
Wryly, Alex said, "I'm not going anywhere."
"Good," Mulder said, leaning in against him and putting his arms around him
rather proprietarily, as affectionate as the gesture seemed.
"This—Mulder, are you sure you want this?" Even as he asked it, he could
feel his reserve flying right out the window. Mulder leaning against him
had that effect on him.
Mulder nodded. "I wouldn't have started anything if I didn't. I have to
say I was sure that you were going to bail, instead of coming here."
Alex instinctively tightened his own hold around Mulder as they sat together
on the couch in the dim light of the fish tank. Thickly, he started,
"Mulder, I—" but his voice stuck in his throat and he couldn't say
anything, forgetting even what he was thinking, as Mulder's hand began to
move down across his body, unerringly heading for his jeans, and the bulge
that was evident there. He closed his eyes once more as Mulder's hand
warmly, heavily, almost painfully traced over his cock through the thick
material. He started again. "I remember standing over your grave a few
months ago, waiting to meet with the rebels who I was hoping to get the
vaccine from. I didn't think I would ever be there, in that position.
Having to look down at your gravestone and wonder if it would be permanent,
or if I'd be able to find a way to—" he trailed off, unable to continue.
Mulder held him tighter. "Fuck, Alex," he breathed. "I know it was hard
for everyone to have to go through my burial. But that's harsh."
Alex licked his lips. "I just—I want you to know that I'm sorry. For
everything, Mulder." He found himself teetering on the edge. He knew he
couldn't really expect Mulder to forgive him, that it might even be trite
for him to expect Mulder to say anything now.
But Mulder's tight embrace of him suddenly seemed a little more urgent and
then Mulder was saying against him, his face muffled in Alex's shoulder, "I
believe you, Alex. I believe you."
That tight band of fear that had been holding off any ability to relax into
this suddenly snapped inside of Alex, and he felt years of guilt and pain
suddenly slip away. He'd pay for all his own mistakes, but at least he
didn't have to shoulder the pain of Mulder's hatred anymore. He turned and
kissed Mulder on the head, then down to his forehead, and then quite
suddenly the kisses were turning fierce, and he was possessing Mulder's
luscious mouth with slow, hard urgency.
Mulder finally broke off enough to say, "We could probably take this next
door. Let's adjourn, shall we?"
Mulder got to his feet, taking Alex by the hand and leading him into the
bedroom. With a sense of complete otherworldly dementia as if he were stuck
in some parallel universe where Mulder didn't hate him, but loved him, and
he wasn't alone anymore. He was being undressed with the most attentive care
and admiration for his body. Alex gave himself up to it. Even if it all
turned out to be just a wonderful dream, he knew that a part of him had
finally found the closest thing to home.
When Mulder drew Alex down with him onto the bed and pulled the covers over
them, he contented himself with holding onto Mulder and saying, "Let me have
you again. Please."
Mulder was laughing into his neck. "I was kind of hoping you'd let me have
that pleasure, this time."
Right, like he could refuse him anything. Especially when it appeared that
Mulder was going to punctuate every sentence now with kisses that made him
bonelessly weak. There were worse ways to go though, other than enslaved
with Mulder kisses. This new kind of relating with him was deliriously
wonderful, even though he couldn't get over the fact that he couldn't tell
how long it would last. Some of his tension must have been evident though,
for Mulder ended up stopping and just holding him there.
"Alex? What is it?"
In the dark, wrapped up with him like this, it was somehow easier. He bit
his lip. "I just want this to last." He didn't dare say anything more, for
fear it would sound needy and foolish. However, at this point, he figured
it couldn't get any worse. Mulder already knew he was completely gone on
him and so he decided just to ... hold him. And damn the future, anyway.
But Mulder apparently seemed to feel he needed to allay Alex's fears, for
suddenly Alex found himself being rolled onto his back, Mulder atop him, "I
want you here. I don't want you to go. If you try to leave I'll hunt you
down, I hope you realize that."
Alex grinned. "Yeah? What will you do with me when you find me?"
"I'll kick your ass," Mulder said, "and then I'll fuck it. I'll get one of
those special warrants issued and keep you chained and cuffed to this bed,
fulfilling my lifelong ambition in the process, to have free kinky sex
available whenever I feel the whim upon me."
Alex snorted. "You'd be surprised how mundanely popular that one is."
"What, the warrant? Or the ambition?" Mulder shook him slightly, and began
to nibble down his jaw, his chin, to his neck, making him squirm slightly
and then chuckling as he repeated it, seeing how it affected Alex.
Alex groaned, and said, "Who the fuck cares?" His cock was hard and
throbbing, demanding his attention. He'd tried to not let it dictate the
pace this time, wanting to enjoy the space of shared moments with Mulder,
but with Mulder continuing to play with him like he was a new toy, a new
instrument, he couldn't stop himself from straining upwards to slide it
against Mulder's belly where the man was laying atop him.
Mulder was laughing quietly. And then held him still by moving his hands to
hold him down and pressing his full weight down on him, in place. "Did you
know that I've been wanting to fuck you like this for a long time?" Mulder
asked, his tone conversational.
"Yeah? How much longer are you going make us both wait before you put
yourself out of your misery?"
"No, I'm serious, Alex. I've wanted this for years."
"So have I," growled Alex. "Now for God's sake will you fuck me already?
Like, today?"
The way he said it seemed to do something to Mulder for he froze on him
momentarily, before muttering, "Just how do you expect me to be able to
think when you say things like that?"
"Mulder," Alex explained, slowly and patiently, "thought is not required at
this point. Action is." And he thrust upwards against him.
Mulder promptly renewed his devouring of Alex's mouth, capturing his lips in
searing, agonizingly sweet kisses before pulling back, out of breath. "I
got things ready while you were showering."
Alex's own breath was coming in short gasps, but he managed, "Hindsight is
wonderful. So where are they?"
Mulder was dutifully reaching beneath the pillows, then lifting himself off
of Alex in the dark to make interesting tearing noises and satisfied groans,
accompanied by the fascinating sound of latex being unrolled over a hard
cock.
Alex's own cock was dripping in sympathy as well as eagerness. The fact
remained that this was the only man he'd ever wanted to find shoving
anything up his ass, let alone that large cock that he had drooled over
earlier that night. As Mulder reached for him, a hand on Alex's leg, Alex
found himself sucking in a short breath. "Mulder? Can you—I don't—"
"Relax. It's okay." And then Mulder was settling down beside him, pulling
the covers over them properly once more and urging with his hand to lift one
knee. Alex obediently parted his legs slightly too. And then Mulder's
long, gorgeous fingers, hot and slick with lube were sliding down to trace
along his perineum and then probe delicately at his now-nervous anus. The
strangeness of having the one finger slip into him, then begin feeling
around was enough to make him tense, quivering all over, until abruptly
Mulder found that secret button inside and pressed at it gently. Alex
gasped out loud, shocked at how good it felt. Mulder was grinning, Alex
could tell in the darkness. Mulder repeated the action and Alex moved
involuntarily. Sweating, he said, "Jesus, Mulder, do that again."
Complying, Mulder murmured, "Why don't you turn over? I think it'll be
easier that way."
His limbs shaking, Alex moved to do as he was bid, wondering how the hell he
was going to survive even one night of having his dreams come true. So far
it had been a lot more mind-blowing than he'd imagined. He pressed his hot
face into the cool pillow, trying to keep the doubt at bay, as Mulder's
hands were busy stroking his ass, and sliding freshly slicked fingers into
him. Being impaled on Mulder's hand was a surprisingly interesting state to
be in; it took his mind sufficiently off of his desperately yearning cock
that was now trapped between his body and the bed beneath him. But then
Mulder was pushing his legs even farther apart and leaning in against him,
that big object seeming to take on enormous proportions now in the dark,
unseen behind him.
He nearly panicked but Mulder was leaning against him, letting his hands
trail over his back soothingly, stroking him lightly. In a tone of
wonderment, Mulder said, "You're so beautiful. I thought you were. I mean,
I wondered. But a lot more beautiful than I thought."
Muffled, Alex turned his face to the side and said, "You're unraveling me,
here. Just—get on with it. Please? Please, Mulder."
"Alex, if you don't want this, say so. We don't have to, you know."
Alex almost laughed aloud at this. Lowering his voice, he stated while
trying not to grind his teeth, "If you don't fuck me now, I'm going to get
up and do it myself. You'll find yourself on your back with me on top of
you. Just do it."
Mulder seemed more than happy to do so, pressing his cock up against Alex's
butt and letting out a hum of appreciation that resonated in Alex's bones.
But then the sensation of that large dick sliding home blotted out all other
awareness, filling him and stretching him, reaching up into his core. It
left him suspended on the edge of Mulder's intent, hoping that Mulder would
do it hard.
He reared back a little, speared on it, gasping out, "Mulder, please, come
on, do it to me now. Now."
Mulder hadn't wanted to hurt him but apparently agreed with this excellent
suggestion and began purposefully to follow that instinctive motion, pushing
upwards into him again and again, stabbing against his prostate with every
bump and thrust. The sweet thrill of being possessed like this, especially
by his own beloved Fox, was making his face burn hot and his reserve was
long forgotten, all the tension had drained out of him and was now replaced
with pure need.
And then Mulder wasn't holding back any more and was quickly and roughly
using his ass, fucking him as if his life depended on reaming out Alex's ass
with his dick. It was liberating, to give up control like this at last. He
was nothing but a slut for it, yearning desperately merely to be used over
and over, his waiting prick still trapped under him getting indirect
friction from the rough motions of Mulder slamming into him.
He was suspended over the edge of the hot wet pleasure, the pinnacle,
waiting to touch it as Mulder ground out, roughly in his ear, "Got you, you
fucker, I got you, fucking you, oh Alex, fuck you—fuck you—fuck you,"
and then made a strangled little noise as he halted, jerking uncontrollably
into him.
With the cascading jolts of pleasure running through him, Alex found the
moment of orgasm, grinding his hips into the bed and back against Mulder's
wild movements against him. Finally. Pure relief, like coming home and
finding all is as one left it. Striations of liquid heat were coursing
through his body as he lost it under Mulder.
After a while, Mulder pulled away, leaving only cold space where he had
lain. Alex was dismayed to find that there were tears leaking down to wet
the pillow. He surprised himself, startled, when his breaths stumbled with
the shaking of his shoulders.
And Mulder was suddenly on him again, solicitous. "Did I hurt you? Alex,
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Alex was alarmed, trying to keep the tears back. He hadn't thought he'd
lose it this badly. Sniffling, he said, quickly, "No, no, I'm fine. I'm
okay. It wasn't you."
Mulder was stroking his back, almost as if unsure of what to do. Finally,
he moved in close to Alex again and cuddled against him, taking him in his
arms.
Alex relaxed into him, keenly embarrassed. In the aftershock—wasn't it
supposed to be a glow, he wondered?—he said, "Sorry."
Mulder was suddenly kissing tear-stained cheeks, pressing tender kisses to
his eyelids, whispering, "Yeah, me too."
Alex got the feeling he hadn't meant just the last few minutes. Or even
that night. If anything, this night had been the one thing he wasn't sorry
for, after years of waiting for it, yearning for it, despairing at ever
attaining it.
He said quietly, "I do love you, you know." Damn the cost or the coming of
the next day, he wanted to say it now before it would be changed, taken out
of context, even disregarded as foolish or insincere.
But Mulder held him tighter and kissed him again, smiling wistfully in the
dark, and saying, "Me, too."
They stayed like that, just holding each other in the dark, waiting for time
to change. Alex was a little relieved to find that even as they fell
asleep, time still seemed to pass as uneventfully as when he was alone. He
sent up a prayer of thankfulness to whichever gods were closest. And added
a silent plea for more of the same. Mulder appeared to have changed enough
to accept him, maybe even love him back. It was enough. He had indeed come
home.
Homecoming
by Jami Wilsen
Raleigh, North Carolina
