Go to notes and disclaimers


Strange Crossroads
by Jennie and Jami Wilsen


Part 1
Ceasefire

Chickens!

Nasty creatures, chickens. Smelly. Dirty. Stupid.

Yet, here I am—feeding the fucking things.

How the hell did I end up in Princeton B.C., feeding chickens?

Looking for Krycek, of course. Shit, I KNEW he was dead—had seen Skinner kill him with my very own eyes. Still, I couldn't help hoping...

So, I started looking. Convinced the Gunmen to help me. Damn good move on my part. They found him—well, they found a man that could've been his twin. Curious, I made reservations at his B&B, then descended on him.

And now I was feeding chickens.

HOW had I come to this?

Hell, Matthew had merely asked, fluttered his obscenely lush eyelashes at me, smiled, and I'd given in.

The man is sinfully pretty—and nice, too. He's accepted my presence without a qualm. Ignores the way my eyes seemed always to follow him. Hasn't asked me any questions.

He just lets me be. Insists that I help out around the place. Makes me feel at home.

Asks me to feed the FUCKING chickens.

Calling myself every kind of fool, I head back inside.

Then I feel it—eyes, trained on me. And I know, I just KNOW, that it's Krycek.

Well, like I said, it wasn't as if I'd had no suspicions. Matthew most definitely is NOT Krycek—the noticeable existence of the left arm on the man is a dead-giveaway. Oddly enough, that knowledge only increased my conviction that Krycek was around somewhere.

And now, the feeling of those eyes on me... I had experienced it before, too many times not to recognize it, the hairs on the nape of my neck lifting slightly and the recognizable sensation of being watched. Funny that, he'd always liked to watch me. For whatever reason. And I... well, I'd always known when he was there.

Feeling like an idiot, I call out, "Krycek? Is that you?"

Matthew is standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He's wearing a quizzical expression. "Who are you calling to, Mulder?"

"I was sure... I felt someone else. I can't explain it; I just know I've felt it before. Look, Matthew, are we alone? Ever since I arrived, I've been getting the strangest sense that there's someone else here too."

Matthew peers at me with a slight frown. "That's weird," he says, finally. "I'd understood that you might be a little different, that you had an ability that was almost 'spooky', but I didn't think you were clairvoyant."

"I'm not."

"Well, telepathic, or whatever."

"But I'm not. Really," I protest. "I just- it's this one guy. I can tell when he's sneaking around."

Matthew's eyebrows lift at my telling remark, just as I bite my lip, knowing he's going to pick up on it- Yep, sure enough, he says, "'Sneaking? Doesn't sound very flattering. Do you have a problem with this guy?"

Uncomfortably, I shift from one leg to the other. I don't know how to approach this with Matthew. Krycek is his double, could pass for him easily in any crowd and no one would be able to tell them apart. How can I explain that I'm here looking for Krycek? I sigh and rub my face with my hands. "No, it's more that he has a problem with me."

Matthew looks into my eyes, studying me. I can't gauge right now if he's thinking I'm nuts, or if he's taking me seriously. "What, is he, like, stalking you or something?"

"Not... not exactly," I say in a weak voice. "He... I... We..."

Frowning, Matthew just stands there—giving me time to gather my thoughts.

And I hear a noise. Matthew hears it too—his eyes look past me and widen in stunned amazement.

Shit!

Slowly, I turn—knowing who will be standing there. And—yes—it's HIM. Krycek. Good old Alex. Alive and well. Staring at me with an expression I can't decipher.

Straightening his shoulders, Krycek moves forward a few steps. Looks at Matthew. Blinks and looks again. "Who," he asks suspiciously, "is this man, Mulder?"

"My question, exactly," Matthew says.

"Oh! Um... Alex Krycek, meet Matthew—Matthew, this is—"

"Alex. Got it," Matthew interrupts. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"I'm his... um, we used to be partners. Now—well, I don't know what we are now," Alex offers.

Matthew nods, as if he understands. Though how he can, I'm not sure. Hell, I'm completely at sea. My mind whirls with questions: How? Why? What does he want?

"C'mon," Matthew says. "Let's go on inside. Dinner's ready."

I grimace. The man can NOT cook an edible meal to save his life. But, he tries. He really does try, and I just don't have the heart to tell him how awful the food is.

Matthew leads us inside—then realizes that Alex is still out in the yard. He opens the door and yells, "You too, Alex."

I'm putting a lot of effort into not caring whether or not Krycek joins us. But Matthew is obviously waiting and when Krycek finally appears at the door and comes in, shutting it behind him and taking in this little domestic scene silently, Matthew smiles.

He fills three plates and sets them on the table, frowns for a moment, then gets utensils and a napkin for Krycek. After setting a place, he wipes his hands and says, "Dig in. Before it gets cold."

I'm already sitting at the table, and Krycek views me with an inscrutable expression before slowly coming forward to sit down—directly across from me.

Fuck. Like his company alone isn't enough to unsettle my stomach and ensure poor digestion. The adrenaline surge that accompanied his arrival hasn't left yet. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let him know that his mere presence affects me so badly. I nonchalantly stuff food into my mouth and chew without batting an eye.

Krycek regards the plate of food that Matthew has prepared for him with a doubtful frown. He glances back up. "What—what is it?"

"Lentil and tomato casserole. It's a new recipe," Matthew announces proudly.

Suspiciously, Krycek points to the vegetables. "What," he asks, "are these?"

"Oh, just some Chinese veggies I cooked in the wok. Ummm—bok choy, snow peapods, water chestnuts..."

"Uh huh." Carefully Krycek lifts a forkful of food to his mouth. Sniffs it suspiciously—then shrugs and puts it in his mouth, chewing tentatively.

Oh god! The look on his face. I can't help but smile—that expression is just priceless. He looks as though he's just swallowed a mouthful of sour milk.

With a glare at me, he swallows. Grimaces.

This is almost too much fun.

"So," Matthew says cheerfully. "How is it? Good, huh?" He enthusiastically shovels more food into his own mouth.

Krycek clears his throat. Drinks almost all of the glass of water sitting within his reach—MY water!

"It's great!" I enthuse.

"Ah... yeah, great."

I can't prevent a quiet snicker at this. The lack of enthusiasm in Krycek's voice is hysterically funny for some odd reason.

Krycek flicks a look of irritation at me. He takes a deep breath, obviously not looking forward to eating the rest of it.

"Nietzsche may have been onto something when he said 'That which does not kill us, makes us stronger'," I say, with a smug sense of satisfaction.

Krycek scowls at me, and drinks the rest of the water in my glass rather than take another mouthful of the casserole. "Seeing as we've both literally come back from the dead, we should be pretty tough by now."

I am not at all happy with this attempt on his part to draw parallels between us. I regard him casually while remarking, "Well, one of us, it would seem. Then again, Frank Baum would probably be able to help you more than Nietzsche."

Krycek stares at me, the reference obviously escaping him. "The Cowardly Lion," I explain, helpfully. "You obviously need a dose of courage."

Matthew says, "You don't like it, do you?" He takes away Krycek's plate and then goes to the fridge. "Well, it isn't everyone's taste, I know. Mulder here seems to enjoy it but I can understand if you're not used to a vegan diet. Here," and he comes back with an apple, a wedge of ancient cheese—which does NOT look unappetizing when compared to the casserole—and some bread and margarine spread.

I watch mournfully as Krycek dives into the food with relish.

I look up at Matthew and see him regarding me with a glint in his eyes.

Bastard! He KNEW. He knew I was just playing Krycek...

Fuck. This is not good. Why in HELL is Matthew taking the side of this scum-bag over me?

Krycek comments, "You know, if you keep pouting, your face will freeze that way, Mulder."

Matthew quirks an eyebrow at Krycek. "He do that often?" he asks, waving in my direction.

A smile. A wry smile—but a smile, a definite smile—appears on Krycek's face. I'm inexplicably pleased at the sight.

"Oh yeah," Krycek answers Matthew. "ALL the time."

"And you," Matthew asks, "do you smile often? You should, you know."

I manage to quell my vocal agreement.

Krycek blushes.

Huh.

Silence falls for a spell while we eat our dinners. I can't help noticing that Krycek and Matthew are studying each other. Incredibly, Krycek seems to come to the conclusion that Matthew is safe. He relaxes back into his chair and his expression is ...

Damn—that's young-and-vulnerably-eager-Agent-Alex-Krycek. I haven't seen HIM in years. He always did attr-

Never mind.

I push my chair back and stand up. "Need any help cleaning up, Matthew?"

"I'll give him a hand," Krycek volunteers.

Before I can come up with a reasonable protest, Matthew nods and smiles at Krycek. "Great," he says. "We'll get to know each other while we work. Mulder can go on and relax in front of the TV."

I don't THINK so!

But a dance begins. Every time I open my mouth to say something, Matthew cuts in. It's like he is deliberately shutting me out and giving all his attention to Krycek. I feel inexplicably sulky now and I find myself wondering why. After all, Krycek DID just arrive. And Matthew has no idea who he is. Good point, that. I ought to warn Matthew—and soon—that Krycek is NOT the character that he's acting out here... A man of many faces—and roles—is Krycek.

The dishes get done quickly, with the two of them ignoring me. "So, Alex. What was that about both of you being dead?" Matthew finally asks, obviously wanting to get a satisfactory answer to the puzzling statement that Krycek made earlier.

Krycek chuckles. "It's true. Mulder was officially declared dead and was brought back from a state of decomposition. He had a virus."

Matthew's mouth is open. He's hooked. "That's... that's incredible. How- how did it happen?" His eyes wander over to me, moving over my face, obviously re-examining my form with this newfound perspective.

Krycek snorts. "A vaccine. I saved his life. You'd THINK some people would be more grateful," he adds.

I open my mouth to speak but Matthew steps between us, his hand clapping familiarly on Krycek's right shoulder. He laughs. "That's absolutely amazing! So, what happened to you?"

"Well, it wasn't really the same kind of thing... There were these clones, you see, and—uh, what's your view on extra-terrestrial life?"

Matthew shrugs. "It's a big universe. I'd have to say I have an open mind on the subject. It'd be pretty arrogant to assume that a planet as small as ours would be the only source of life in the vastness of the cosmos..."

They are walking to the door, going outside and as Krycek starts to speak, the door closes behind them.

Damn it! Just when he was about to explain how it is that he's not laying in some morgue somewhere with several bullet-holes in him, Matthew takes him outside.

My curiosity is itching to interrogate the bastard. He shouldn't be alive, not after what I saw.

They've deliberately gone off together to have a conversation—without me. I could get upset. I could be feeling hurt right now. But I don't think Matthew means it personally—does he? Or did he pick up on the tension between Krycek and me and decide to take Krycek's side? I slump down on the couch and scowl to myself. This is not going well, at ALL.

By the time they return, I've decided that dignity is my best recourse. I have the television on and am watching it, arms crossed on my chest... quite dignified.

"Hey there," I say with casual dignity. "Have a nice walk?"

"Yep," Matthew answers cheerfully. "Very um... interesting conversation."

I'll just BET.

Krycek crosses the room and turns at the bottom of the stairs to turn and look at Matthew, a question in his eyes. "Where do I sleep?"

"Oh," Matthew waves in my direction. "You and Mulder can share. His room has two beds."

Oh no. NONONONONO!

I'm about to express my refusal, when Krycek cuts me off. "I... can't I just sleep on the couch? Share your room? Something...?" He's all but begging, by the time his words die away.

I think I'm insulted.

Yes—I AM insulted.

"Well," Matthew muses, frowning in thought. "The couch is VERY uncomfortable and I snore... ummm—"

Fuck! "He can share with me," I say grudgingly.

"You sure?" Matthew eyes me doubtfully.

"I don't think- " Krycek murmurs as he backs away.

"Yes," I snap at Matthew, "I'm sure. YOU," I turn and say to Krycek. "STOP. I'll ... " what the FUCK am I doing? "I'll take you up to OUR room."

So much for dignity.

Matthew's eyes are wide, taking in this little... scene. I'm regretting losing my cool just moments after my display of calm.

Krycek does NOT look happy. I stride to the stairs, not caring if he follows, certain that he'll still try to remain downstairs, actually. Hell, maybe he'll leave... But he follows me up anyway. I go inside the bedroom, leaving him standing in the doorway. "Do YOU snore?" I ask rudely.

"You'll find out soon enough, won't you?" Krycek says, his voice lacking the conviction it had gained with Matthew's presence.

So. The rat-bastard doesn't know how to keep his cool, either, without his new ally, eh? Faced with someone who knows just how low he can crawl.

Hell, why pussyfoot around? I let him have it, point-blank. "Krycek, I don't know what lies you've been spinning for Matthew, but I'm going to tell him exactly who and what you are. He doesn't know you like I do. I don't think he's expecting you to bite the hand that fed you, and he should be warned that you have a tendency to turn on whoever's in closest proximity to you."

Krycek exclaims, "Jesus Christ, Mulder! Can't you give it rest?"

"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

Sneering, Krycek says, "Why should I bother to tell you? You won't believe me."

"Good point. But you aren't going to live to enjoy your resurrection for much longer if you don't start giving me some answers. I want to know what you're doing here, what you want. Why are you weaseling your way in here, with Matthew? How did you find me?"

"Kind of academic for me tell you, don't you think, considering you just gave me another death threat? For fuck's sake, Mulder, you never let up, do you? Why can't you just let the past go? I have," he says, meaningfully.

Right. As if the bastard is gracious enough to forgive ME—when we both know exactly how much and how frequently he's fucked me over in the past! I'm about to retort angrily when Matthew knocks loudly on the door.

Uh oh.

He opens the door rather forcefully, walks in and glares at us. Okay, he only glares at ME.

Fucking Krycek.

"Mr. Mulder," Matthew says—sounding frighteningly like Skinner, "either you cut the shit, or Alex shares my room. He'll just have to endure my snoring."

"But... he... he's not what you think he is," I stammer.

"Did it ever occur to you, Mulder, that he's not what YOU think he is?"

Damn.

Having no answer to that one, I sigh and back down. "Sorry, Matthew—and you too, Krycek. I'll try to—I mean, I will lay off of him. It's just... Shit! We share a long and unhappy history, Matthew. It's... difficult."

"Mmmm." Matthew looks back and forth between us. "Alex? Will you be okay in here?"

After studying the floor, the window, my face, Matthew's face, Krycek shrugs uncertainly. "I suppose. If he agrees to—"

"A ceasefire?" Matthew suggests.

"I—uh... yeah—a truce." Krycek meets my eyes. "What do you say, Mulder?"

His eyes beg me to agree. So tempting, the pleading in his expression. For a moment I lose myself in those eyes.

Matthew clears his throat meaningfully. With a start, I look at him. "Okay," I promise. "A truce."

Satisfied, he nods and backs out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Strangely enough, now that Matthew is gone, Krycek won't look at me. I sigh, and feeling lame, I say, "I mean it. I'll go along with this. No past, for as long as we're both staying here."

"No more death-threats?"

"Krycek," I say, wearily, "I wouldn't kill you. Haven't you figured that out yet? In all the years we've known each other, all the times our paths have crossed, I've never tried to kill you. If anything, it's always been you holding a gun on ME."

He snorts and carefully sits down on his bed. "There's a first time for everything."

I chuckle. "Now you're starting to sound like me."

He throws me a look. "What is THAT supposed to mean?"

"Paranoid," I explain.

He sighs. "Mulder, I'm not here to make trouble for you, or to spy on you. I swear."

"Fine. And I won't try to get you kicked out. Deal?"

His lips twitch. "Fine. It's a deal."

"For Matthew's sake, if nothing else."

"Of course," he agrees, with a grin.

Jesus. Whoever would have thought? A truce... with Krycek.

Now, I have just one problem. How the FUCK am I supposed to sleep tonight, with him lying a few feet away from me?

xx

Strange Crossroads 2
Burnt Toast

Breakfast will be scrambled eggs.

Again.

And... dammit! The toast is burning.

Again.

Mulder never does complain—I really don't think he notices what he eats—but Alex... Shit! I can't blame him for the wary look he's now directing at his plate.

He glances my way, then studies the way Mulder is obliviously devouring his breakfast. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he lifts his fork and starts picking at his eggs.

"What?" Mulder says sarcastically. "Food not to your taste? Again? Didn't know you were so picky, Krycek."

Okay. That'll be enough of that! I clear my throat and give Mulder a LOOK. "Some people," I inform him, "don't care much for breakfast. AND, you eat yours so fast I don't think you even taste how bad it is. Really, Mulder—runny eggs and burnt toast... every morning? Without a word of complaint? Somehow, you don't strike me as a non-complainer."

Alex actually snickers at this.

Mulder mutters in a subdued voice, "Some people don't care much for mornings, either."

"Well, it's a beautiful day, regardless how you might feel about it, Mulder. And Alex and I, we're not going to let you bring us down. Are we?" I glance at Alex for confirmation and his eyes narrow with a silent accord at our tacit agreement to withstand Mulder's testy mood swings. There's much more than meets the eye here; there's a lot of stuff going on between these two that I'm beginning to suspect even THEY aren't aware of. I thoughtfully turn back to my own eggs, an idea beginning to form in my mind.

I need to help, somehow. Otherwise providence wouldn't have sent them both to my door. It's obvious that some higher power has got it into its head that these two guys need to sort out their past and their problems with each other, here with me.

I'm trying to find some way to get them both on even ground, to facilitate some kind of negotiation. But it's an emotional minefield; that much is clear.

"SHIT!" I grab the pan, now containing extremely crispy eggs, forget that it's made of iron, burn my hand, and throw the whole disgusting mess into the sink. And, of course, the toast is burned to a crisp.

Mulder snickers. Bastard.

Rising to his feet, Alex smiles at me. "I'll cook breakfast—you want anything?"

He will? I think I like this guy. "Yeah," I eagerly agree. "I'd love some—whatever you're having."

"How about french toast?"

"Oh yeah," I grin at him happily. "That would be great!"

After a pause, during which he obviously is arguing with himself, Alex sighs and says, "Mulder? You want some, too?"

An ugly look crosses Mulder's face, then he takes a deep breath. "I... " he stops speaking, swallows. Collects himself, assumes a benign expression. "Yeah, Krycek. I'd appreciate that."

Hmmm. Okay. We're making progress—little tiny steps, yes—but progress all the same.

Alex finds his way around the kitchen well, considering he isn't used to the place, and I'm beginning to think he's an extremely handy man to have around. Regardless of the absence of his left arm, he's deft and agile and I find myself blinking back a momentary fantasy of what it would feel like to have him finding his way around ME...

I glance at Mulder and catch him watching Alex with the same expression I can feel myself wearing. AHA! So THAT'S what it is. I can't help a grin, now that I know. I should've guessed, from the way Mulder can't stop needling him. It's kind of juvenile, now that I think about it. He wants Alex and can't accept the truth of his own attraction to him, so he's... in denial. This gives me the handle I've been looking for.

"So, Mulder. What are you going to do today?" I ask. "Like I said, it's a beautiful morning." I indicate the window where the sun is streaming in, illuminating the kitchen and making the house entirely too cheerful for Mulder's morning grouchiness.

Mulder sits glumly and murmurs, "I thought I'd go for a walk."

Good. Great, in fact. Gives me a chance to be with Alex, alone. And scheme. And enjoy his company. Alex is a bit of a puzzle. I know his past is dark and probably complicated, but he seems so emotionally vulnerable. And Mulder knows it; Mulder instinctively homes in on it with every slight and jab.

We devour the—yes, the man can cook—excellent french toast Alex has quickly and expertly prepared. Even Mulder doesn't complain. He actually grunts his agreement when I complement Alex on the food.

Which appears to completely and utterly astonish Alex, giving me an even clearer picture of their relationship.

Once the kitchen is cleaned up—Alex insisted that we do it right away—Mulder wanders into the living room and settles on the couch. He sighs contentedly, curls up onto the corner and closes his eyes.

"I thought you were going for a walk?"

Mulder cracks one eye open to look at me. "Later," he mumbles. "Sleepy now."

Alex tugs on my sleeve and nods towards the kitchen. I follow him in and he gives me the oddest look... "He doesn't sleep much. Let's just... go for a walk ourselves—let him get a nap in."

Well, I'll be damned.

I'm still assimilating the fact that Alex is betraying so much concern and care for Mulder's well-being—in spite of the way Mulder treats him... when it occurs to me that he doesn't really expect Mulder to ever return the favor. "He's never given you the benefit of the doubt, has he?" I ask.

Alex gives me a hard look, and I hold up my hands. "None of my business—I just can't help noticing that he has a personality change when you're around. He's been here for a while now, and I thought I knew what he was like."

Alex sighs. "It's... a long story. He has good reason." He doesn't elaborate further.

"Look, I'm not trying to interfere or anything, but I don't like the way he treats you. He has an impulse control problem."

Alex snorts. "Tell me about it. Look, let's take this outside."

Once outside, the air is bracing, and the sun is bright. God, I love living here. I turn and regard Alex; he seems to enjoy it too. Which is good, considering his past and the demons I suspect may haunt him. I know about night terrors; these two guys each have more than enough to contend with. Last night was a little stressful; I don't know how Mulder slept through it.

Kicking at a stone underfoot, Alex quietly says, "You have a good thing, here, Matthew. I'll admit I'm envious."

Shrewdly, I say, "It's quiet—small. I'm pretty much left to live my life in peace. People don't bother me much... it's a good place to be if you want to be alone."

He chuckles. "Sure, there is that. But I meant the environment. It's very—renewing."

Well, well, well. Alex just gets more and more interesting.

"Glad you think so—it's... I'm happy here."

He turns his face away, but not before I catch a glimpse of the pained longing on his face. I realize that he's never had that—never been happy.

"Alex," I say softly.

"What?"

Hmmm, seems Mulder isn't the only person with the mood-swing thing going on around here. That was positively... snappish.

"I suppose," he says in a weary voice, "that you want to know about me and Mulder."

"No," Is my instinctive answer. "No, I don't think so. I'd rather know about you, Alex. Just you."

"Oh?" He's surprised. Surprised and pleased. I hear both very clearly in his tone.

In a way, despite the fact that I don't really know the first thing about it and Mulder probably has every good reason in the world to feel justified in his behavior towards Alex, I feel a sort of bond between us. Alex and I have both been on the receiving end of other people's emotional problems more than once. The physical resemblance between us is a little startling, but to be honest it's intriguing, too. It's no wonder that Mulder stared at me like I was a ghost, when we first met.

Alex takes a deep breath and confides, "I've never had this. Never had what you've got, here," he elaborates, "And I feel like I've come to a crossroads, here. I really did die; being brought back gives one a different perspective on life."

"No kidding," I say. "Naturally. I think you've been living on the edge. That would also change your perspective, yeah?"

Alex grimaces. "The impermanence of everything; never having a center, no home. It's... debilitating. After a while, you just have to sit back and ask WHY. What's the point?"

I nod. "I think you really needed to be here right now. Maybe that's why you and Mulder ended up here—you both need to relax. Take a break from the lives you usually lead."

Alex winces. "There isn't any escaping it. It's—it's all pretty big, Matthew.

I grin. "The world always is. The point is to make room in your own world, make some space just for you. Otherwise there's only 'the world' and no 'you', at all."

"And no peace," he murmurs.

I feel like I'm reaching him. I clear my throat. "I—uh, I've got a suggestion. When I really need to relax, take a break from my problems and just... reassess the situation, I have a kind of a ritual. Would you be interested?"

"In what, exactly?"

"First a good hike, clear the mind, y'know."

He nods. I can see that he knows exactly what I mean. "Works for me," he says agreeably.

"There's more," I warn him.

"More?" He's looking a little wary again. "More what?"

"To it," I say brilliantly. "More to my system, I mean."

"Uh huh." The wariness is easing but still lurking in the depths of his eyes. "Define more, please."

I grin at him engagingly. "When I get back, I like to light a fire, kick back... and get high."

Ah. THAT surprised him. He's giving me another, more considering, look. "You smoke pot."

"Sure do. Grow it, too. Good shit."

"You want to smoke a JOINT with me?" His face is slack with surprised confusion. "That's all?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking here of the therapeutic applications... relaxation, unwinding. When was the last time you smoked a joint with a friend? Sat back and just... let go for a while?"

He snorts. "Right. You might have a point, there. I can't remember the last time I was in a situation where I felt safe enough to do that."

Wow. He's actually considering it. He throws me another look. "Is there more?"

"Well, once we get to that stage, I think the next step will probably suggest itself," I say, casually.

I'm not making a pass at him, I'm not. I'm pretty open-minded about a great many things, but Alex's vulnerable side is so obvious to me, it just makes me want to protect him from... Mulder. Jesus. What am I getting into? I swallow and take a breath of the oxygen-rich air, trying to imagine NOT being here.

But I don't want him to think this is some kind of attempt on my part to do anything but offer sincere help. "I just think it would help, is all."

Alex nods. "Okay. But I'm not doing this with Mulder around."

I snicker. I can't help it. "Don't worry. We'll get him out of the house, first."

The fun of plotting this with him is starting to affect me—and it's affecting Alex too. He has a twinkle in his eye when he smirks, "Can you imagine Mulder on that stuff?"

I shake my head. "I'm trying to. If anyone needs it, it's him."

Alex thoughtfully purses his lips and says, "I don't think I've ever seen him truly relaxed. He's always so driven."

And you're infatuated with him, I think. I've got my work cut out for me. He doesn't want to talk about Mulder but he can't stop thinking about him. Well, a little pot and some friendly conversation, some simple company in a relaxed atmosphere should help. I'm actually starting to believe this is a necessity for both his emotional well-being and mental health. Mulder isn't the only one who's driven.

"C'mon," I say, nudging at his right side. "Let's take a walk—when we get back, we'll chase Mulder out and... " I laugh. "Get a good buzz on."

He rolls his eyes at my silliness, but grins, too.

"Let's go... " He turns a circle, examining the possibilities in each direction. He finally points to the east. "That way."

Easily falling into a matching pace, we head away from the house.

"High, huh?" He eventually says.

"Very," I say firmly.

"Good," he says.

I think this will be fun.

xx

Strange Crossroads 3
Heatwave

I've been for a walk—in the woods.

Just call me nature-boy!

I needed time alone to think—hell, this situation is WAY out of my league. What IS Krycek doing here? HOW is it that he's he alive? WHAT does he want from me?

Why do I suddenly feel guilty about my growing attraction to Matthew?

So I went hiking. Didn't do me any good, though. I was no closer to answers of any kind now than I had been when I set out on my little jaunt into the wilderness.

Dejected, I climb the steps and walk across the veranda and into the kitchen of Matthew's B&B. And smell it right away. I'm proud to say that I'm not even all that surprised—not any more. Matthew smokes pot—often indulges, in fact. So far, tempting as it might be to join him in this escape from reality, I've managed to resist.

With a shrug, I turn to head up to my room. The room I now share with Krycek. A whole night of sharing a room and I haven't killed him yet.

Damn, I'm proud of my self-control.

About halfway up the stairs, I hear it. Not Matthew—no, that HAS to be Krycek. He's... he's giggling.

How weird is THAT?

Krycek falls silent after a moment and I hear Matthew say something—can't make out the words, but whatever he says seems to delight Krycek, as he responds with yet more giggles.

Okay—I can't stand it any longer. This, I just HAVE to see...

They both look up when my presence finally registers in their pot-soaked brains. Krycek stares at me soberly for a beat, then practically falls over laughing.

Well. Glad I seem to tickle Alex's fancy so—if I wasn't so amazed by the sight of him completely helpless with laughter, I'd have to kill him. The way he keeps looking at me as I stand dumbfounded in the doorway makes it quite clear that I'm the source of his vast amusement.

"MULDER!" He giggles. "Come on in!" Krycek waves expansively at me, falling against Matthew in the process.

I AM in, thanks. No sense in trying to point this out to him—not in THAT condition. Instead, I turn a fierce glare in Matthew's direction.

He, at least, has the grace to look somewhat abashed.

Ignoring Krycek for the moment I ask, "Just what exactly are you trying to accomplish with this?"

Krycek apparently finds this hilarious; he dissolves into helpless, quiet laughter that looks far more strenuous than it sounds. He exchanges a glance with Matthew, whose face has taken on a knowing expression at my simple question. They both chuckle, meeting each others' eyes significantly.

Matthew's lips twitch as he says, "You know, Mulder, you really should learn to—chill."

"Yeah, sit your ass down and chill, Foxy," Krycek quips.

I sigh. Krycek is not helping at all. Of course, what can I expect from someone who delights in sowing discord and manipulating people into uncomfortable situations that benefit only himself? I sit down, warily.

Krycek smirks at me. "So glad you could join us, Foxy. Shouldn't take long—would you like a magazine while you wait?"

I stare at him and then turn to Matthew, pointedly ignoring Krycek. He's so far gone, that it's obviously futile to expect anything coherent apart from his usual snide sarcasm.

He is NOT going to get to me; he WON'T.

"How much have you two smoked?"

Matthew gives me a curious look and points at the ashtray. "Mulder, why are you getting so worked up? We had a joint—that's all."

I reply stiffly, "What you do is your own business. But... did you really feel the need to get HIM high?."

Matthew grins in spite of himself and shakes his head, looking away.

Krycek snickers at me. "Still hasn't kicked in yet, has it?"

Kicked in? What the HELL does THAT mean? I choose to ignore him. "Matthew... "

"Fooooxxxx," Krycek responds.

"DON'T call me that," I snarl.

"He doesn't like that name, you know," Krycek confides to Matthew.

They exchange another look of understanding, then dissolve into laughter again.

Shit! Matthew high is fairly easy to handle—Krycek, on the other hand...

Damn him to hell—and damn Matthew too, for showing me this unexpected side of Krycek. It's fucking difficult to maintain my wariness when the man is lolling on the floor laughing his ass off.

"Here," Krycek sputters, manfully suppressing his hilarity and holding a joint out to me. "You're too tense, Foxy. Live a little!"

"I'm fine, thanks."

Both look at me askance, but seem to accept my refusal with good cheer.

Krycek leans against Matthew's shoulder. "He's a real tight-ass, isn't he?"

Matthew—the bastard—agrees. Then both smile at me.

FUCK!

One of them is bad enough—but TWO? Both smiling?

I think I'm in trouble here.

Gathering myself, I look at Matthew again. "Don't I have enough pain in my life without seeing him... this way?"

I want to kick myself once the words leave my mouth—what the HELL? Why did I say that? What—well, actually, it's true. But the new look that crosses Krycek's face spells mischief. And for some reason, I'M the one who's in a defensive position in this ridiculous scene, when it should be the other way around. A stoned Krycek just might let some of his closely-guarded secrets slip out.

Clearing my throat, I wait.

Matthew finally speaks, "I'm curious. You've never smoked, before? Ever?"

"In college, the usual experiment. I tried it." And then I add dryly, "But I didn't inhale," a deliberate Clinton-quote.

Which of course makes Krycek roll around with fresh hysterics.

Amidst the noise, Matthew blinks innocently and says, "I'm sorry if it upsets you. But with the smoke in here... it ought to be getting to you by now. Are you sure you feel the same? Don't you feel even a little bit better?"

I point. "With him doing THAT?" I exclaimed.

Krycek gasps, struggles to control his laugher, and then manages to pull himself upright. "Foxy, you slay me, you really do. Look, why can't you just accept the fact that even stone-cold killers like me need to kick back and relax sometimes?"

Uh huh. I glare at both of them with disapproval, then, when not one, but TWO pairs of appealing green eyes stare back innocently, I heave a huge sigh. "Fine," I grumble. "Kick back—relax... do whatever the hell you want."

Matthew frowns at me when Krycek seems to wilt at my words. "Mulder... can't you just let the past rest for a little while? Take a chance," he encourages. "He might not be—you may not know Alex here as well as you think you do."

With a snort, I look at the man in question. He's leaning against Matthew, an expression of sad acceptance on his face. SHIT! Why do I feel like I've kicked a puppy?

"Let him be, Matthew. He has very good reason to hate me. I'm not a nice person, you know. And I've... well, our past isn't pretty."

Oh damn. A vulnerable Krycek.

Matthew puts one arm around Krycek as he gives me a silently scolding look. "I think maybe you should go upstairs now."

Haltingly, Krycek climbs to his feet. "No, I'll go up. You and Mulder—er, talk."

Oh no, you don't. Stepping up to push at one of Krycek's shoulders, I rather ungently shove him back to his place beside Matthew. "Fine," I say, giving in to what now seems inevitable. "I'll stay—we'll BOTH stay. Now... give me that joint."

Matthew hands it to me, wordlessly. But the look in his eyes is sobering. Silently warning me that I'd better behave myself—that Krycek is now under HIS protection—and, while he's vulnerable, I am NOT allowed to be anything other than... pleasant to the scum-sucking SOB. I swallow, then decide defiantly that, sure, I'll play along. For now.

Matthew passes me a lighter and I fire up the joint, knowing I'm about to make a complete fool of myself. I don't smoke. This ought to give Krycek a hernia, all things considered—it's certainly going to tickle him to watch me spluttering like a teenager with my first drag.

I get the tip of the joint glowing and the smell is already hitting my brain. The smoke drifting in the room hadn't really gotten to me, despite their expectations. But THIS—

I glance up at them, and Matthew looks calm, accepting. Krycek, on the other hand, well... His eyes are sparkling, and he looks breathless, slightly excited. I can't stop the thought from wandering over the surface of my mind: does he look like that just before sex?

It can't be the drug. No, wait, I correct myself urgently—it HAS to be the drug! I can't be thinking that. Must be the weed. Of course. And I suck in my first toke.

It burns, and suddenly I'm coughing; sure enough, Matthew and Krycek are sniggering. Grimly, I decide I don't care and do it again, just for good measure. It does get easier.

That much I remember.

In silence—broken only by Krycek's occasional spurts of laughter—we finish smoking a good portion of the joint. I sit waiting for it to hit me.

Nothing.

Maybe I'm immune.

"Oh, Foooxy," Alex sing-songs.

"Mmmm?"

"You feeling any better now?"

I shrug and slide down to lay on the floor. "Nope," I answer—why does my voice sound so far away? "Don't feel a thing. I think I'm immune."

Then I laugh.

Krycek snickers, and I... dammit, now I'm giggling.

Guess I'm not so immune after all.

With a sigh, I close my eyes and drift. "Alex?" I say drowsily.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you here?"

"Was looking for you," he tells me.

"Why?"

"Wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Missed you."

Oh. His easy answer echoes in my mind. He... missed me?

"I missed you, too," a voice responds.

Oh. That was me. I frown in thought. I just admitted...

And, it's true. For whatever odd reason—however it happened—WHATEVER it is he does to me—I fucking missed him.

This is bad—very bad, indeed. I close one hand over my mouth to stop any further revelations.

"You two," Matthew says in exasperation. "How long has this... this thing been going on between you?"

Krycek gives a little sigh. It's kind of endearing—although I'm fully aware that it's only because I'm getting high that I find it so. And then he says, "Too long. From the beginning."

Wait a minute—

"What?" I ask, feeling as though I'm talking around clouds of cotton wool blossoming inside my skull. "You mean it's been like this for you since the very start? Since we met?"

Krycek gives me a sly look, one that says 'can't fool me'. "Of course. It has for both of us. Hasn't it?"

Matthew is looking from Krycek to me, and then back at Krycek again. "How long is that? How many years?"

Krycek snorts and sits back, puts an arm around Matthew's shoulders and jostles him in a comradely gesture. "Years. Years and years."

I grin helplessly. "Yeah. Uh, Matthew? Are you sure this stuff is clean? I mean, pure? There isn't anything else in here?" I lift up the joint momentarily, then take another long drag.

"I grow it myself," Matthew says, a little put out at my suggestion. "Why?"

"Because the fucking stuff is like a truth serum," I say.

Krycek falls apart with giggles again at this, snickering helplessly.

Matthew gives me a funny little smile. "Fine. Let's play it that way, then. For the duration of the—ah—session, here, we have to tell nothing but the absolute truth. Any question anyone asks has to be answered as honestly as possible."

Whoa. Hold on there- even if I COULD lie just now, I'm not sure I like what Matthew is suggesting. Truth? Then I catch myself. I'm supposed to be Truth's greatest advocate... and they both know it! Damn. Caught in my own trap. I sigh heavily and look longingly at the roach in the ashtray. The joint's almost gone. Too bad. Maybe I could get him to give me another. I'll even roll it myself. I remember how to do that, too. Like riding a bicycle. One never forgets.

I chuckle to myself, thinking of elephants, pink and otherwise.

And look up to see Krycek watching me light up the roach with an enchanted expression on his face. Jesus, he's watching me like it's a mild form of porn.

"Truth or Dare?" I ask doubtfully.

"No—just truth," Matthew says.

Well, hell.

"That goes for all of us, right? Krycek too?"

"Alex," says Krycek. "And—yes. Truth. 'Bout time, don't you think?"

"Fine."

"Fine," repeats 'Alex'.

"So... who's first?" Matthew asks.

"I am!" I state.

Krycek snickers again. "Let me guess... you want to know how it is I'm alive."

Well, yes. Yes I do—but damned if I'll give him the satisfaction of telling HIM that.

"Why didn't you ever give me any indication that you... er, wanted me?"

He snorts. "Suuure—first you were my boss—then I betrayed you and became public enemy number one. When should I have told you? In between punches?"

"Punches?" Matthew frowns at both of us.

"Oh yeah," Krycek says cheerfully. "He," he waves in my direction, "never missed an opportunity to hit me. Sublimating, you know," he confides to Matthew.

"Sublimating my ASS," I protest. "YOU never missed an opportunity to fuck me over, you shit." Oh Jesus. "Please tell me I didn't say that!"

Both of them are laughing too hard to answer.

Bastards. "Fine," I say, sulkily. "Laugh away."

"Awwww," says Matthew. "It's okay, Mulder. You're among friends, here. Don't pout."

"I'll pout if I want to," I mutter.

"Please do," suggests Krycek with an unfamiliar note creeping into his voice. "It's cute. Suits you."

Giving him a withering look, I gather what's left of my straggling mental capacity. "Instead of leering at me, 'Alex', you could find something useful to do. Like rolling another joint." I turn dismissively away to concentrate on Matthew. "I'm glad you're a friend. But I still don't get the connection. Why are you and Kr-... Alex here? And why should you care whether or not we hate each other?"

"Like each other," Matthew corrects. "Why should I care if you two are attracted to each other? Well, I can answer both questions at the same time."

"I'm impressed," Krycek murmured.

"See, I care because I'm his friend, and he's here because he knows I am."

Huh. Logical. I shrug. And watch Alex's long, lovely fingers rolling up the joint...

I realize that neither of them has asked a question yet. That won't do... "So, Alex?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"Don't you have any questions?"

Silence.

"Either of you?" I prompt . "Matthew? Alex?"

I have one!" Alex announces proudly.

"So ask."

"You ever—you know—do it with a guy?"

They laugh.

"C'mon, Foxxxx—tell us."

O-okay. But first—I lean over and grab the joint Alex has finished rolling and light 'er up. Take a fortifying toke. Let it settle, feel the increased buzz. Niiice.

"No," I tell them dreamily. "Haven't ever tried it—wanted to. Lots of times. But, shit, Alex, you know as well as I do what my sex life is like."

"He does?" Matthew seems to be both amazed and perplexed by my statement.

Krycek snorts. "He MEANS that I know HIM—that I've seen him sitting on his couch night after night watching porn and jacking off. He's afraid, you see."

"NOT afraid! Just... too busy."

They both just look at me.

Fine... "What about you two? I assume that you're, um, experienced?"

Matthew nods. "I'm bi, actually."

"Gay," Krycek announces. "Don't like women that way—like men. Always have."

Oh my. I blink.

Krycek is watching me with far too much furtive alacrity for someone who's as stoned as we all are.

I shrug, trying to assess WHY it is, exactly, that I don't mind his eyes on me now... as well as WHEN I started wanting to watch him the same way. Trying to keep my gaze fixed on Matthew doesn't work because he's also fucking gorgeous. This is not fair. It's an ambush. I begin to suspect that they planned this all along... Yeah, I'm paranoid. Why do you ask?

"Well," I say, nonchalant as you please, "We've established our preferences, our habits and the foundations of our relationships. What about the future?"

Matthew smiles at me. "You know, I wondered when you would get around to that."

"I'll bet you did," I say, dryly. "You don't mind, do you? Discussing motives and agendas?"

Matthew shakes his head. "Not at all."

I don't want to accuse Matthew of anything, but I still want to know. "Is this a set-up?"

Matthew stares at me. "A set-up? What do you mean?"

Krycek is laughing again. "God, you're so paranoid. You're crazy. Of course, I love you anyway, but JESUS, Mulder." He snickers and then says, "I hate to break it to you, but the whole world does NOT revolve around you."

Matthew frowns in confusion. "Hm. Wait, I'm beginning to get it. You think we're smoking pot to try to entrap you or something?"

Hold. The. Phone. Did Alex Krycek just say that he loves me? Holy... My ears are still working, and THAT particular little statement is echoing through my brain over and over.

Maybe he didn't mean it the way I think he does... Or the way I want him to.

I'm still wondering if I should ask him if he meant what he said when Matthew answers me.

"Mulder," he says with VERY irritating patience. "I do not 'set people up'. Alex needed to relax—YOU needed to relax. And you needed to talk to each other. This just seemed like a—a good way to accomplish all three."

Right. I mull this over for a moment. "Okay—so, we're relaxed. We're talking. Now what?" Falling silent, I find my eyes drawn back to Alex. "Did you mean that?" I ask abruptly.

"Huh?" He frowns in confusion. "Mean what?"

"I think," Matthew offers, "he wants to know if you really love him."

"Well, of COURSE I do," is his indignant response. "Why else would I have said it?"

Why else indeed...

Matthew watches me expectantly. "What?" I ask him.

"Well—how do you feel about that?"

I lose it. I really do. Laughing helplessly, I do my best to explain just why I find it so fucking amusing that he's playing the part of couples-counselor.

"He's a psychologist, y'know," Alex tells Matthew solemnly.

"Yeah, he's mentioned that."

"A fucked UP psychologist!" Alex announces; then he starts laughing again.

"I've noticed," Matthew says.

Oh yeah?

Oh YEAH???

"So Matthew... you've been flirting with me all week," I challenge him. "What do YOU want from me?"

That sobers Krycek instantly. He sits up and glares at Matthew suspiciously. "You have? Am I gonna have to kill you, Matthew? I'd hate to have to do that, you know—kinda like you."

Matthew rolls his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, Alex, I've been flirting with you, too."

Wait a fucking minute! He has? I don't like the implications of THAT. Oh no—I don't like that at all.

"So," I say, curiously. "You've been flirting with BOTH of us." My eyes flick over to Alex... Yep, he's certainly paying close attention now... I chuckle silently to myself. "What do you want?"

Matthew exhales. "What do you THINK I want? Do I have to hit you over the head with it? God! I can't believe you two!"

I sigh. "So what do YOU want, Alex?"

"I want to drown in you," he replies in a husky voice, with just enough quiet intensity for my cock to stiffen. Fuck. He's drowning ME with his candid manner and those eyes staring at me. My gaze slides away to Matthew; it's like looking at a mirror image of Alex, and now I know I really AM truly screwed—because there's no way out of it. I want both of them.

I lick my lips. The temperature in this room has climbed to an unbearable degree. Another few minutes, and it'll be imperative for me to start stripping, regardless of whether or not they want me to. "Yeah, me, too," I mutter, barely audibly.

Matthew takes the joint from Alex. "Let me light that up again." In between drags, he asks, "Are you cool with this? Seems pretty friendly all around, really. I don't see any problem."

"You sly devil," I say. I hadn't meant to say it aloud.

Matthew shrugs[ERF1]. "Thank you. I try. Although I have got to hand it to myself on this occasion. You two have more issues than should be humanly possible to acquire."

I glance over at Alex to see his reaction to this and damned if he isn't staring at Matthew now. I feel a surge of lust at the thought of seeing them together... as well as jealousy. Alex is [ERF2]MINE.

Wait a minute. Did I just think that?

Um, yeah, guess I did.

Matthew hands the joint over to me and turns to look at Alex again. I watch, frozen between jealousy, and lust, and wonderment at how beautiful they are together, as they lean gradually closer. Their lips meet. And I... well, shit! What do you THINK I do?

I moan. Loudly. I have NEVER been this turned on! I'm so fucking horny that I think I just might come in my pants from watching them.

With a wet noise, their lips part and they both turn to look at me. Matthew glances down at the erection tenting my trousers. He smirks. Alex's eyes follow Matthews' line of sight. He doesn't smirk, but what he does next is... Oh!

He crawls over Matthew and straddles my thighs. His hand rises and softly touches my cheek. "Mulder," he sighs. "Can I... may I?"

Matthew turns to me, his arm warm around my shoulder. The fingers of his free hand move down to cover my cock. "Kiss him, Alex," he murmurs.

Jesus, if I survive this—him—THEM—I can live through any-godamned-thing.

Krycek—Alex—blushes.

I nearly melt at the sight. It hits me with a jolt—he really DOES want me—he loves me.

God! I can't stand it anymore and put one hand at his nape, pulling him towards me so that I can-

He doesn't hesitate. His arm wraps tightly around my neck and he opens to my kiss, holding nothing back.

Heat. Wet heat. Need. Desperate need.

Dimly, I hear a noise. What? Dazed, I open my eyes and pull my mouth off of Alex's. Matthew...

Oh yeah. Matthew.

He grins at me. And leans forward to kiss me.

Oh yeah... MATTHEW!

Fuck. Those lips, that mouth, and, yes, this tongue. There really IS a God, somewhere, someplace. I'm losing myself in Matthew. Somehow he feels safe, a stability and pleasant warmth like the home I don't have.

So different from the wild danger of Alex, the fire of his being.

Matthew's tongue slides against mine. This warm, wet melting down of my soul into this man—MAN? Yeah, and I can't really believe I'm doing this but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. I want him. I want this.

Alex's hands are on me, pulling at me. It's starting to distract me, but I don't want to tear my mouth away from Matthew's. Then, Matthew is doing it too, tugging on my clothes. Finally, with annoyance, I draw back from Matthew, breaking the kiss, gasping for air, to find myself being expertly denuded by two very insistent lovers.

They aren't exactly rushing the job, either. Now that I realize what they are actually doing, I'm kind of glad. Alex pushes me to one side and slowly pulls my shorts and jeans down past my hips, then my shirt is lifted away over my head. My socks are gone. So are my jeans. So are my inhibitions.

And then I'm free. Alex is pressing up against me from behind, mouthing my neck while Matthew captures my lips again for another oral assault, slow and deep and languid.

It's no fucking joke; I really AM drowning—in pleasure. It's the only way to describe what they are doing to me, pulling me down, pulling me in, and there's no lifeline.

They feel—

They feel clothed, that's how they feel. THAT won't work. Not at all! Gathering my resolve, I break away from Matthew's drugging kiss and wriggle my way out from between them. Together, they frown equally adorable frowns (Adorable? Matthew should patent that pot!) and reach for me.

I back away quickly, with a firm shake of my head.

After my heads stops spinning—don't shake head while smoking pot, I scold myself—I look meaningfully at their clothes. "Both of you," I say quite firmly, "are overdressed. And," I continue, suddenly inspired, "I would like to watch you strip each other." I sit back on my heels with a satisfied smile and wait for the coming explosion.

"Okay," Matthew agrees easily. He reaches for Alex's shirt.

Alex, of course, rears back and scowls fiercely at both of us. He really is cute when he's flustered.

"For me, Alex," I wheedle. Hell no, I have no shame. "I can't imagine anything... ah, I'd really, really like to watch."

His eyes drop to the floor, and his color rises.

God, I'm good. Handling him like a pro.

One look at Matthew and I pause. His eyes inform me that I'm not fooling HIM for a second. He is fully aware of how I'm manipulating Alex, and though he's amused, I can't mistake the warning in his look—if I hurt Alex here, I WILL answer to Matthew.

I swallow heavily and nod. "Alex?"

He looks up warily.

"I... Alex, you turn me on so much it scares me—and TWO of you—why do you think Matthew attracts me so much?" His eyes start to soften just a little. "You've seen my collection—you KNOW I like to watch—and... watching you two... ah... "

Alex licks his lips, simultaneously wanting it and feeling nervous, I think. Matthew instinctively knows what to do at this point, and it's kind of like being privileged to witness a love poem being enacted—live. It isn't like any porn I'VE ever seen.

Matthew shifts towards Alex again and kisses him, slowly, pulling away before it can get too involved. He murmurs gently, "Don't worry. This won't hurt. I promise." He reaches up a hand to touch Alex's cheek, trailing his hand down along Alex's jaw to say, interspersed with more kisses, "You... are... beautiful. Let me do this. Let me unwrap you."

Alex shivers slightly, and his eyes half-close. God, he really IS beautiful like this; he looks like a proud stag that is ready to bolt and yet cannot move from the force of the magnetic lure of the mating call. I want to watch him lose himself in pleasure, now. Ohhhh yes.

Matthew begins to slide Alex's shirt up, kissing his skin softly along the way. Wherever Alex's skin is exposed as the shirt is removed, as new territory is uncovered, Matthew's lips follow, soothing, and smoothing over the doubt Alex has shown. Jesus. It's one of the most intensely erotic things I've ever watched. My cock is so hard in front of me that it actually twitches with every little thrilling pulse in my bloodstream.

The shirt is history. And now—oh god, now Matthew reaches down and opens the front of Alex's jeans and is kissing his way down one hip and an exposed thigh, pulling shorts down along with the denim to reveal a really... gorgeous cock. I've seen plenty of men's cocks in my porn-viewing and this is the first time I can honestly say that I've found one that looks appealing, esthetically attractive and even... desirable.

I can't help wondering how Matthew's cock will compare.

Alex is biting his lower lip almost savagely as Matthew's slow undressing of him comes to a close with the pulling away of the jeans from both his ankles as he drags them over his feet.

Matthew stands up and steps away momentarily, discarding Alex's clothes absently to one side.

Alex is sitting there naked and suddenly remembers me, his eyes flicking back to me almost with a little panic, and a sudden tension. As our eyes meet, I can feel the heat rushing into my face. We are here naked, facing each other, for the first time.

And then Alex swallows. Glances away. He looks like he can barely restrain himself. I suddenly feel more than naked.

And I laugh shakily, seeking to diffuse the sudden intensity of the moment. "You're next, Matthew. Let us do the honors."

Matthew looks surprised as Alex chuckles too, and we climb to our feet, stepping forward to assist him with his own disrobement.

When Matthew's shirt is discarded, I notice Alex turning a bit, so that his arm is almost hidden from view. And, I realize, that I hadn't even taken note of it. I owe him that—an honest reaction. So I step back, look at Matthew's torso, then turn my eyes on Alex.

He flinches, but turns—almost defiantly—so that I have a clear view of his arm. And it's... it's simply HIM. Question is: how do I tell him that—make him understand?

"Alex," I start out hesitantly. "I—Look... it's there. It happened, and nothing will change that now. Just as nothing can change the way you look to me—you are beautiful."

Well. That worked. Suddenly, I have an armful of Krycek. He buries his face against me and just holds on. Matthew steps up behind Alex and puts his arms around both of us.

"He's right, Alex," Matthew whispers. "Listen to him."

A tremble moves through Alex's frame, then he sighs and relaxes. "Mulder," he says huskily.

"Mmmm?"

"Let's fuck."

Oh. OH GOD. "Good idea," I say, the shock of his blatant suggestion reaching down into the root of my cock and tugging at my balls.

Matthew seems to agree, chuckling softly. "Let me just get some things."

Things? What th- oh, right. Matthew is leading us into his room. His bedroom. We both follow, naked satellites to his still overdressed form.

Alex and I exchange a glance, for the first time I know exactly what we are both thinking. His smirk tells all.

Together, we pounce, wrestling him down to the bed. Matthew gasps and Alex holds him down with a wicked chuckle while I divest Matthew of his jeans and shorts. He's aroused, too. And yeah, that cock of his is just as delicious-looking...

Jesus. I never would've thought I'd actually want to have another man's cock in my mouth. Let alone two.

But Alex appears to be enjoying holding Matthew prisoner a little too much, because he doesn't relinquish him, just laughs again quietly and says, "Time to pay-up on all that flirting, I think. Wouldn't you agree, Mulder?"

Matthew is staring up at him with all-too-innocent pair of eyes. Fuck. This little tableau is another visual treat that I really could do without. Otherwise I'm gonna come the moment one of them finally touches me.

I clear my throat. "Yeah. High-time. But where- where's the—"

Matthew says, without taking his eyes off Alex's face, "Down there," as he waves a hand negligently at the foot of the bed, and I dive down, rooting around to locate lube and condoms.

Alex certainly seems to have recovered his poise. "Okay, so we just need to decide who gets fucked, and who does the fucking?"

I snicker; I can't help it. "Who made YOU the Master of Ceremonies?"

Matthew says, "Actually, I kind of like you that way, Alex."

Alex raises a brow and stares down at him. "Oh, you do, do you?" There's a growl in his voice, one that sends a little ripple over Matthew, who is breathing harder.

I can definitely get into this.

Without looking up at me, Alex keeps staring down at Matthew. "Mulder, get over here."

I scramble over to kneel at Alex's side. And wait for his instructions. Eagerly. I like him like this—REALLY like him in alpha mode.

"Matthew," Alex pronounces, "will be fucking me tonight."

I think I'm gonna faint.

"I," he continues, "will be fucking YOU."

Yes—definitely going to faint here.

"He's never done this before," Matthew reminds Alex.

"I know. That's why," he smiles at me, "we will be VERY thorough in getting him ready."

My body goes limp. Well, most of it, anyway. I slump against Alex and gulp for air.

Very kindly, Alex gives me a few moments to recover. Then he nudges me with his chin. "Ready?"

"Um..."

He chuckles. "I'll take that as a yes. I want you to climb right onto Matthew's chest."

Uh huh. Just as soon as I can actually move.

Okay—carefully, I move to straddle Matthew, settling my ass down somewhere in the vicinity of his groin. He groans. Smiles and arches up against me. Oh, I LIKE that.

Rudely, Alex brings one hand down on my ass. "Not there, Mulder. Move up—he's going to blow you—while I take care of other matters."

Oh?

Oh.

I think I get it...

Laboriously, I move up, until Matthew's lips are only millimeters from my cock. Just as he opens his mouth, pink tongue flickering out to taste me...

I jerk and gasp as slick fingers follow the valley between my buttocks. "Shhh," Matthew soothes. "Think about this—"

He takes the head of my cock into his mouth.

I yelp. I can't help myself. The sound escapes before I can do anything to control it.

A husky chuckle comes from behind me where Alex is running his fingers up and down my crack, brushing against my anus slowly and deliberately.

Oh FUCK, I know what comes next—but the slight anxiety that sweeps over me at having Alex's cock in my asshole is completely obliterated as Matthew begins to lick, rolling his tongue over my glans and expertly flicking the tip against it, lashing it over and over until I'm squirming.

"Too fast; not yet!" I gasp.

"Doing too good a job there, Matthew?" Alex asks.

Matthew stops working on the head of my dick with a smile and moves down my length to mouth my balls. I feel like I'm swimming in a nice hazy fog of arousal, anticipation and tension.

Alex breathes a little groan of admiration and pleasure behind me as he unrolls a condom onto Matthew's erection.

I twist around to look and Alex applies lube to Matthew's penis. As I watch, he uses his slicked fingers on himself.

I'm holding my breath at the sight. So is Matthew. I can tell, because of course I'm sitting on him and he's NOT breathing. We're both paralyzed at the vision of Alex preparing himself—his fingers sliding in and out of his own ass.

"Oh god," Matthew says, weakly.

Alex stops with a little smile, and the tip of his tongue darts out, leaving his lips wet and making me want to bite him, to nibble on them. He gets behind me and actually sits on Matthew's cock, slowly and carefully spearing himself. He makes a choked little whimpering sound as he impales himself to the very hilt.

He grabs my arm tightly, holding onto me as if for support.

Matthew gasps loudly and closes his eyes, biting on his lower lip. He whimpers.

I'm practically hyperventilating by now. The tight grasp Alex has on my arm, the way he's leaned his forehead against my shoulder... the soft sounds he's making-

I'm gonna have a heart attack. I just know it!

Alex sighs, settles himself—breathes deeply and evenly. I watch, fascinated, as Matthew's eyelashes slowly ascend. Good god—His EYES! Soft and cloudy—completely lost in the feel of Alex.

Not hyperventilating now. Not breathing either.

A hand closes on my erection and—oh, SHIT—he's—Matthew's sucking me in. Then I feel Alex start to move. Between the two sensations, I really do fear a heart attack. Tensing, catching my breath, I concentrate on making it last—on waiting.

Because, more than anything, I want to come while Alex is inside of me.

Without warning, Matthew relaxes his throat and swallows me down. FUCK! I scream and arch back against Alex.

"Oh," Alex murmurs after taking a look over my shoulder. "Isn't that pretty?"

Matthew hums, and I feel his hips thrust up against Alex.

Alex screams.

I'd laugh, if I had the presence of mind.

Harder and harder, Matthew and Alex come together with audible slaps, grunts and groans—all the while, Matthew continues to blow me—swallow me—lick me—

My cock is enjoying bathing in the sinful wet heaven in his mouth while Alex shudders and makes these gasps and moans behind me, moving against me, riding Matthew's cock...

Matthew's expression is blissfully sublime, as though the torture of ecstasy has transported him into another realm entirely, one that is composed of sweat and flame and sweet consummation.

I think it's called sensory overload, when the brain switches off because one's cock is being sucked a little too expertly, and one's ex-arch-enemy has his arm wrapped around you, writhing around making little screams and groans.

It feels as though time has slowed to a liquid crawl, and I find myself hanging on breathlessly. Until suddenly—with all the devastating grace of a bomb going off inside my body—I'm coming, my climax is streaming into Matthew's mouth.

Matthew swallows, and I'm shaking while he starts to come inside of Alex, bucking his hips and nearly dislodging me. I'm spent, and I quickly pull back; he's in such a seizure of climax that I suddenly worry he might bite me unintentionally. And as he comes, oh god—it's like watching an angel dying.

He collapses with a moan and pulls me down into his arms. Alex leans against my back. Has anything in the history of sex ever felt so perfect?

With a needy sound, Alex pushes forward, laying his cock along the crack of my ass.

And I—slut that I apparently am—catch my breath, and eagerly grind myself back against him.

"Like this?" Alex asks.

Matthew nods. Good thing too—I couldn't manage to respond right now if my life depended on it.

Two fingers slide into me and I—god, I AM a slut—I gasp and wriggle onto him, begging for more.

"Hang on," Alex whispers. "Just let me make sure—"

"No," I insist. "NOW!"

Wow—two whole words. I'm very proud of both!

With a chuckle, Matthew looks over my shoulder at Alex. "I think he's ready."

"Yeah?" He sounds more doubtful than teasing.

"Dammit, Alex... just DO it!"

"Pushy one, isn't he?" Matthew says with a grin.

"Fuck you!" I growl.

"No, Mulder," Alex says huskily, "Fuck YOU."

And the head of his cock pushes its way into me.

Oh shit. Oh man. It... it hurts.

Alex freezes in place while Matthew reaches up to cup my face. "Breathe, Mulder," he instructs. "That's it—Easy now—just give it time."

Time? There's a huge cock up my ass, and he wants me to give it time. Actually, I've seen it, and it isn't too big, but it feels so—filling. Stretching. I feel cored out and run through.

Then Alex rests his face next to mine, leaning on me, and he kisses my cheek slowly, then licks the back of my neck. I shiver involuntarily.

"You're so hot inside," he says. "So silky. I'm going to come inside you, Fox. God, I've wanted to fuck you forever."

I'm gasping for breath. How can he TALK let alone whisper these sweet...somethings? Because his words aren't 'nothing' at all, and my mind is feeling like someone has stuffed it with flowers, his words adding a touch of emotion to the raw sensation of being fucked.

Staring down at Matthew, who is watching us like it's the most beautiful and riveting thing he's ever seen, I can't help but feel pinioned, trapped in this unexpectedly mind-altering scenario. I never knew.

"I didn't know," I whisper, hoarsely.

Matthew nods slightly, seemingly empathizing, understanding exactly what I mean.

Amazing. Even I don't know what I mean.

And then Alex moves...

OH.

OH GOD-

Alex lets out a breath and then moves again, a little harder, more of a thrust into me. Sliding back and then jutting forwards again, pressing into my tightness. Something is tingling and magical and feeling absolutely great inside of my ass. Hello, prostate! Holy FUCK.

Matthew moans under us, shifting slightly.

And Alex is holding onto me, clinging to me as if to a life-raft. "That's—that's good, that's so good," I manage.

"Yeah?" Alex breathes, in my ear, on my neck, and then bites me, chewing slightly, and sucking, and I'm shivering all over while he starts to fuck me harder.

My brain achieves meltdown at that point, officially speaking. I can't talk; I can only cry out with every thrust of him inside of me. I don't want this to be over, I want to stay here forever. I staring down into Matthew's eyes, he's holding me fast, a magnetic connection to keep me from drifting away entirely.

I love being fucked, I decide.

And then Matthew grins up at me, and I realize I said it out loud.

"And I love fucking you," Alex whispers, behind me, punctuating this with another slam of his hips against me, his cock forcing its way even deeper.

He... LOVES? Oooh—I, too... LOVE. Suddenly, achingly hard again, I whimper. Matthew reaches up to hold my hips and pull me down against him. Damned if he isn't hard, too.

Alex moves again, a long slow glide into me.

Fuck!

Reflexively, I start moving against Matthew, rubbing our erections together. Each thrust back pushes me onto Alex.

I think I've died and gone to heaven.

No, I realize, as Alex increases the speed and power of his movements, not dead. Definitely not dead. Matthew's hands tighten bruisingly on my hips and I... Jesus! I can't—can't wait—have to come... right now!

"Alex," I gasp. "Now—please now... I'm—oh god! ALEX!"

"Yes!" he hisses into my ear. "give it to me, Mulder! Let me feel you—FUUUCK!"

He jerks against me—does it again—and... we're coming. So is Matthew, judging by his expression.

That is my last thought before I—yes, I faint.

Complete overload.

When I come back to my senses, I find that I'm laying on my back, with a fuzzy recollection of Matthew kissing me on the mouth before getting up from the bed, and Alex holding me as we slumped down together.

He's holding me right now, his arm around me, as Matthew helps us clean up. I'm still not really ready to start holding any intelligible discourses on anything, least of all what just happened. But I have a big goofy smile on my face. Matthew comes back and joins us under the covers, with Alex ending up in the middle.

"Thanks, guys," I say, sincerely.

Matthew laughs quietly. "All part of the service. We hope you've enjoyed your stay."

"Jesus. Any other side benefits I should be warned about?"

Alex tightens his arm about me. Sounding tired but mellow, he says, "Oh, I'm sure we can find plenty of benefits, if we all stay on the same side."

That sounds a bit loaded, and I really don't want to go into it right now. But he's right, however obliquely he's referred to it: it DOES feel good no longer to be at odds with him. To have dispelled the tension—I grin to myself—and worked it out this way, thanks to Matthew. Hm. I wonder how MUCH pot he has left? I'm wondering, as I drift off to sleep, how many times we can repeat this new experience?

xx

Strange Crossroads 4
Afterburn

I'm lying sandwiched between Mulder and Matthew, their arms draped on me, debating trying to get up without waking them. My stomach is growling incessantly. I feel like I'm starving, like I haven't eaten in days. An unfortunate side-effect of weed, I remind myself. With a sigh, I carefully extricate from between the two men, removing Mulder's arm from around my middle with a twinge somewhere in the region of my chest.

Oh, who am I kidding? There isn't a hope in hell of anything extending this truce. A stoned Mulder may be easier than a sober one, but he's hardly likely to want to stay on the stuff. And Matthew... There are variables and possibilities but it's a bit late in the game for me to start building castles of dreams without thinking about the solid foundation beneath. I pull on my clothes silently and go into the kitchen.

With my stomach clamoring insistently for food, I open cupboards and the fridge in a search for something, anything, to eat, wondering what the likelihood is of keeping Mulder here indefinitely. Would Matthew allow us to stay for a while? Why do I WANT to stay? I survey the senile cheese in the fridge with a suspicious glare. I really don't want to eat that. Let's see... it's only 2AM. Well, never mind. It's morning in some part of the world, and technically it is here, too.

Breakfast, it is. Hah, at least this way the number of eggs wasted will be reduced. Matthew is a fine lover but his culinary skills need work. And that is an understatement.

Hm. On both counts, actually. I am grinning to myself when the appearance of a tousle-haired Mulder in the kitchen interrupts me.

"I thought you'd gone," he says, rubbing his eyes blearily.

Oh. Right. Naturally, the Krycek HE knows would be unable to handle the psychological implications of having babbled about true feelings and love under the influence. Project, MUCH? Thanks a lot, Foxy. I don't turn from the eggs, keeping a careful eye on them. "You hungry?"

"Yeah. Starving. God, I haven't been this hungry since college," he grins, an oblique reference to his first introduction to pot.

He comes up behind me and puts his arms around me, familiarly. The intimacy and affection in the gesture takes me by surprise and I stiffen, I can't help it.

He freezes, then kisses me on the back of the neck. "Hey," he whispers. "We okay?"

There's a lump in my throat and a lot of wild ideas in my head and suddenly I have to stare down at the eggs because if I take my eyes off them I know I'm just going to turn and jump him here and now. Fuck. I don't really have any defenses against a Fox Mulder who LIKES me.

"Sorry," he says. "You're cooking. I won't jeopardize the eggs. They're too precious at this point!" He snickers.

He pulls away at a noise from the stairs and Matthew joins us, his eyes twinkling. "That's a sight to behold. Don't stop on my account."

"I have to," Mulder says, "it's an attack of the midnight munchies. I forgot about this part, actually."

I wave the spatula in Matthew's direction. "We need more than eggs, though. Got anything more substantial?"

Matthew snickers. "Sure. I'm prepared for most eventualities. I stocked up last time I was in town—with Mulder here and all." He goes to a cupboard I didn't search, obviously a stash of snack foods. Hm.

Mulder is eyeing it rather desperately. "Matthew," he says, plaintively, "I'm starving."

Matthew is chuckling to himself as he withdraws two jars of roasted mixed nuts and a few other appealing items. Mulder grabs one of the jars and opens it, tossing the lid somewhere in the general vicinity of the trashcan. They both happily munch on the nuts while gathering other food items from various cupboards and drawers and from the fridge.

By the time the eggs are done, they've managed to collect an interesting little spread. A loaf of bread, butter, jam, pretzels, Oreo cookies and strawberries are gathered in the middle of the table.

I serve an equal portion of eggs to each of us and join them at the table. Mulder butters a piece of bread and hands it off to me without comment.

Huh.

I... I'm not sure exactly HOW I feel about that.

So I'm sitting there, staring at this piece of bread in my hand as if it's a bomb about to explode in my face—which it may well be—and someone kicks my shin. Hard. I drop the bread onto my plate and glare at them.

Mulder is obliviously stuffing food into his mouth. Completely ignoring what he's done to me with that gesture.

Fucker.

I turn to glare at Matthew.

His eyes widen and he looks at me for the space of a heartbeat, looks at the bread on my plate, and then cocks his head to one side. Just believe, his eyes are telling me.

I'm not really sure that I have that capability within me any longer.

Matthew is the innocent in this. He's certainly more so than either Mulder or myself. Even though he's the one who decided to orchestrate this little... threesome. Jesus. I can't help shaking my head, thinking this over. The buzz is mostly gone. I think. Mostly.

And now I can't help thinking that this was a mistake. I feel wooden as I help myself to the jam and open it, spreading it thickly on the bread—just to make the point.

I can feel Matthew's eyes on me and the undercurrents in the room are starting to drive me crazy. I want to get up, leave, go outside, ANYTHING—

Matthew swallows his mouthful and says, calmly, "I'm thinking of a final smoke. Just a couple of puffs, you know? Before going back to bed."

Mulder stares at him. "What? Is that—wouldn't that be a bit over the top?"

Matthew replies dryly, "We didn't have THAT much. It's not like we've been sitting here for a week stoned out of our minds or anything. Just want to coast down smoothly from this, is all. Don't want any bumpy landings."

Yeah, right. Like that will really help me. All of a sudden, it hits me, what he's suggesting. Maybe he's right. I'm already coming down from it and with the onset of 'reality', all the things that haunt me and usually accompany Mulder's presence are assailing me again.

I look down at the bread and jam, wondering how I can feel so hungry and so sick at the same time. Hell, I'm sick at heart, not to my stomach. No sense starving myself over the future. I take a deep breath and pick it up.

The silence is starting to pall and Matthew says, "So. You two want to join me outside for one more round? One between us, that's all. Just enough to keep us from crashing."

Mulder shrugs. "Sounds good to me."

I'll just bet it does. Mulder seems to be the slut in this scenario, the opportunist. I've always secretly believed that he was. Most repressed people are, and I've never met anyone as repressed as Mulder is. Ever heard how high his monthly triple-X bills are? QED; I'm vindicated.

Matthew shoots me a look that seems to say, 'go with it,' and of course I will.

I can't help thinking it seems counter-intuitive to use drugs to help in this kind of problem... But it seems to work. I can't run from Mulder, or how I feel about him, but having to face him this way changes the rules.

We walk out onto the veranda and Matthew lights up the joint we didn't finish earlier. He steps over next to he and hands it over after he takes a large toke. As I'm lifting it to my lips, he casually moves behind me and wraps both arms around my middle.

Despite our surprisingly easy physical intimacy earlier, I'm startled by this and I freeze, tensing uncomfortably. I'm not used to being touched. By anyone that doesn't mean to do me harm, I mean.

"Relax," Matthew whispers into my ear. "Just, stand here with me."

His voice is almost like a tranquilizer on my shattered nerves. Slowly, I exhale the breath I've been holding and raise the joint to my lips. And I notice Mulder. Watching me—us—with the oddest expression on his face. I've never seen his expression so soft, so open. I don't know what to make of it.

"What?" I finally ask him, as he continues to stare.

He blinks slowly, then smiles sheepishly. "I just... " a shrug. "I always knew you were an attractive man, Alex. I'd have to be blind not to notice. But seeing you—both of you—here, like this, is... " He swallows heavily. "You're just too fucking pretty for my peace of mind."

"Pretty?" I straighten against Matthew, stiff with disapproval. "I am many things, Mulder—but Do. Not. Ever. Call. Me. Pretty."

Matthew snickers. "But, Alex, I think you're pretty, too."

Oh, to have a gun in my hand right now. I'd kill them both. Pretty, my ASS.

I take a drag with a frown.

Mulder is chuckling now. I don't bother looking at him.

"Alex, I'm sorry. But you just look so CUTE when you're sulking."

Tightly, I say, "You're pushing it, Mulder."

Matthew's arms tighten around me and he says, "It's alright, Alex. It really is."

I'm scowling as Matthew relinquishes his hold on me to take the joint from my fingers.

Then it starts to hit me again and I wonder why I was upset in the first place. I hear a sound and I look over at Mulder, who's staring at Matthew... watching the way Matthew's lips close around the tip of the joint... Flashbacks to a few hours previously when those same lips were wrapped around Mulder's cock...

Unaccountably, I'm hungry again—and not for food. And watching Matthew pass the joint over to Mulder, the sheer camaraderie inherent in what we're doing, and the way Matthew's face looks so serene out here under the bright night sky, it hits me. He's pretty. Yeah. Beautiful.

I feel torn, because although I know I don't have to choose between them, I'm kind of lost as to which one I want more right now. Mulder—well, I always wanted him. To finally have him, even in this bizarre circumstance... It's good. Mostly. And I have Matthew to thank for it. And Matthew is safe in a way Mulder can't ever pretend to be. Matthew pauses and looks straight at me, suddenly realizing I'm staring at him. A little smile graces his lips.

"Feeling better?"

With a smile to match, I say dryly, "Yeah. Fine. So what's next on the agenda?"

Without losing that little smile, Matthew says, "You are."

I hesitate. "Me? Why? How?" It begins to dawn on me what he means...

Mulder is snickering as he passes me the joint.

I take it and draw a few more puffs from it and hand it to Matthew, saying, "Not without establishing a few ground rules first."

"Agreed," Matthew says with a look of understanding. He turns to Mulder. "I think we all recognize the danger of starting a dependency on this stuff to deal with our issues, yes?"

Mulder slowly nods.

"Right," Matthew continues, "tomorrow, you two have to actually talk—no pot, you have to sit down and actually have a conversation. I don't care what you talk about, but no arguing."

These are definitely not the kind of rules I was talking about. But, on the other hand, he's right. If there's ever going to be a chance for Mulder and me to have any kind of a relationship, we have to start somewhere—and, talking is as good a place as any.

Then again... this IS Mulder I'm contemplating having a chat with. I don't know how to have a causal conversation. Not with Mulder, anyway. And, I seriously doubt that Mulder can manage to talk to me—not to Krycek-the-traitor-assassin-ratbastard-scum-sucking yadda yadda—but to me—Alex.

"There was a time," Mulder says in a strangely reminiscent tone of voice, "when we could talk, Alex. I think we can find that again, don't you?"

My mouth drops open. Did he just say what I thought he said? I think about it, rerun his words through my mind, and decide that he did indeed admit to having at least one good memory of our time as partners. Rather obliquely—but then, this IS Mulder, after all.

So... "Yeah," I agree quietly, looking up to meet Mulder's eyes. "Maybe we can at that."

Matthew smiles at us happily. "Good. Great," he says approvingly. "And, now that that's out of the way, there's a little matter of the next item on the agenda."

That would be me, I realize, with a shiver. I know what he has in mind, could see it in his eyes quite clearly, and the idea both thrills and terrifies me.

It's also kind of scary to realize that if it weren't for the weed just now, I wouldn't do it, wouldn't go along with this. It feels like stepping off a cliff and letting go, backwards, hoping they'll catch me. It's actually kind of stupid.

I take a deep breath of the fresh night air and suddenly Mulder is holding me, his arms going around me and his lips pressing gently into my right cheek. "S-sounds like a plan," I say.

Matthew holds out the last of the joint to Mulder and he takes it, smoking while leaning on my shoulder.

The anticipation of what we're about to do is fired with recent memories of what we've just done and the thought of repeating it in any form at all is unspeakably delightful. And daunting. Because I want to lose myself in it. That danger was always there. Matthew's kissing me, and I don't have time to wonder about it because he tastes like smoke and mountains and trees and it's so good.

When he pulls away, I find myself giggling. "Damn it, why do I always get so happy when I'm like this?"

Matthew chuckles and steers me back inside the house. "Because you're taking a vacation from yourself?" He stops to say over our shoulders, "You coming in, Fox?"

Mulder is staring up at the stars. "Yeah," he croaks, absently.

We exchange a glance and go retrieve him, hustling him into the house between us. "Okay, okay," he says, testily. "Can't I even just have a look at the sky without someone getting upset about it?"

"If we let you, you'd stand out there all night," I say.

Mulder stares at me seriously and raises his hand to touch my mouth, tracing my lips with his fingertips. "No, I wouldn't."

His tone of voice sends a rippling shiver all over me, and then Matthew is taking me by the hand, pulling me upstairs behind him. It feels like they're leading me up to the inner sanctum. When we reach the bedroom, I can't help but wonder if that isn't exactly what it is: Matthew's temple of mysteries, my body is to be the altar and my heart—the sacrifice. Because I can't do this without it being painfully obvious that I want it. I want it so much. I want them so very, very much. If they stopped, I'd start begging. Shamelessly.

I'm breathing a lot harder by the time Matthew begins to take off his shirt. This time, I don't flinch when Mulder steps in close behind me and starts to pull my shirt over my head. Matthew steps out of his pants and then moves in front of me to divest me of my jeans.

And then I'm naked and they're on either side of me and I can feel Mulder's cock against my ass and I realize that I must've blacked out because I don't remember him removing his own jeans. But I really don't care, I couldn't possibly care. Not when Matthew is pressed all along my front, kissing me with an urgency I don't remember from him last time. And Mulder is kissing my neck and touching his fingertips into our kiss and it's a damned good thing they're where they are or I'd fall on my ass because my legs just gave up the farm.

I'm making noise, I can hear the moans and gasps and understand that they're coming from me, but I don't care. Because I can't help myself, they feel so warm and hard and wonderfully... here. Nothing else exists for me at that moment. Just them, their touch, their kisses, their need.

They need me.

ME!

I know it, can feel it in each trembling caress, every feverish kiss. Yes, they need me. And it doesn't matter any more if they know how very much I need both of them. In fact, all of the sudden it is imperative that I show them exactly how much I needed them.

What I'd like to do is drag them to the bed, but, since my legs are currently still out of operation, I settle for a hint, "Take me to bed." Yeah, I know, it's a pretty broad hint, but hey, it works.

The room spins uncomfortably for a second after I land on the bed and I close my eyes. When I open them again, Mulder and Matthew were laying on either side of me, head propped on one hand, each wearing a promising smile.

I swallow heavily, and glance back and forth between them, a bit worried by the way they seemed to be speaking to each other without actually speaking. It occurs to me that I could be in serious trouble.

I lick my lips and say, "I didn't know you two were telepathic now. Is it from this stuff?"

Mulder is laughing and Matthew grins at me, indulgently. "There are other forms of communication, too. Like body language." He exchanges another look with Mulder and then abruptly I have two—count 'em, TWO—lovely tongues running along my skin, making me shiver and there are so many hands on my body, smoothing along my chest, my legs. It feels like being wrapped in warm velvet and devoured.

I'm gasping for breath and I'm repeating something over and over again. Oh fuck me, please, fuck me, just fuck me now, nownownow...

"He's delirious," Mulder remarks with a small smile.

"So am I," Matthew mutters, grabbing up the lube urgently. "Mulder, have you ever rimmed anyone before?"

"Um, yeah, but—not—"

"Not Alex." He grins. "Well, there's a first time for everything. Alex, roll over. Mulder, help him onto his front."

Mulder's pushing me over and then sliding down over my back, down to nestle between my thighs. I press my face down into the covers, my cheeks feeling too hot. God, to feel Mulder do THAT to me... I feel like the top of my head is going to come off.

With his hands spreading my asscheeks apart, I feel my anus slightly cooled in the air and exposed and I can't stop a tremor from going over me. But then I feel warm breath against the sensitive skin there and a tentative flick of Mulder's—MULDER'S tongue—

My cock is so hard it feel like a steel rod trapped under me. I'm gasping for breath and Matthew's hands are admiringly wandering over my back and my neck, he's kissing my ear and the nape of my neck while whispering, "You're so beautiful, Alex. So beautiful like this."

Mulder seems to lose his inhibitions to his curiosity at that point and quite suddenly he's eating out my ass with apparent enthusiasm. I'm crying out, I can't help it, at the sensation of that wet, lashing tongue diving deep into me, sliding out only to tease my entrance again before plunging back within me.

Matthew's whispering something to me and the words take the longest damned time to make any kind of sense, but, when they do I can only groan at the thought. He wants me to fuck him, which means that Mulder will be-

Fucking me.

I'm glad that Matthew seems to have kept some semblance of intelligence at his disposal, because I'm a goner. The images in my mind, the way Mulder's tongue is giving me a delicious taste of what's about to happen, Matthew's breath, hot against my neck as he tells me with mind-boggling detail exactly how he wants me to fuck him, all threaten to send me spiraling away into orgasm.

Which I cannot allow to happen.

"MULDER," I yell, writhing away from him. "Stop, you have to stop now... No... Oh shit, Mulder! STOP!"

Finally, I seem to have gotten my point across, he kneels up and frowns at me, looking pretty damned adorable in his mussed stated of confusion and arousal.

"What? What's wrong?"

I shake my head at him. "I want you to fuck me, that's what."

Mulder's fun to watch pretty much anytime, but, when he's completely unguarded, he's delightful. A parade of emotions run across his face, lust, need, fear, and uncertainty—it's the uncertainty that gets to me. I'm afraid I might be pushing too hard. After all, tonight, earlier, was his first time with one man—let alone two.

Ready to back off if necessary, I look to Matthew for a hint. He seems to be reading Mulder a little better than I am tonight—I sure hope he can read this.

Sure enough, Matthew comes up with the perfect way to distract Mulder. He gives him a show. And I'm the main attraction. I mean he lays me out on that bed and devours me. Hands race across my skin, petting, pinching, while his mouth follows in their wake, nibbling, licking, biting...

I open my eyes to look at Mulder and his gaze is so intense that I feel burned under it. I'll never survive both of them, I know that now. They'll destroy me with their touch, with their desire. I can think of nothing I want more.

"Mulder," Matthew murmurs. "We're going to do this together, all three of us."

Mulder's eyes are glazed but the words do reach him, "Yeah. We are."

Matthew smiles benevolently down at me, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "The logistics of this will be fun. Can you get up on your knees, Alex?"

"No," I say, instantly.

Matthew looks chagrined, but only for a moment. "Okay. I thought we could, you know, have you fucking me, from behind, and have Mulder taking you at the same time."

Now THAT gets my attention in a big way but the logistics of it... Hm. "I can do that," I say, musingly.

Mulder looks like he's about to start hyperventilating.

"Um, you okay with that, Fox?" Matthew asks, solicitously.

"Let's get on with it before I come right here," Mulder replies, breathlessly, the implied disapproval at our hedging is obvious in his impatient tone.

I'm sniggering; I can't help it. Mulder really does crack me up. Matthew tears open a condom and rolls it over my erection. That feels TOO good and of course I know what it means... Where my cock is going...

Trying to get to my knees, I find Matthew already on his, and he says, "Give me your hand." When I do so, he squirts a generous amount of lube onto my fingers. Then he hands the lube to Mulder who takes it like it's a breakable object.

Wow. Matthew's on his knees in front of me. That gorgeous ass, facing me. He hangs his head down to the side, peeking at me. "Alex, get me ready."

I am SO there. Kneeling between his legs, I reverently slide my fingers up along his crack, enjoying the way he shudders slightly beneath my touch. I never cease to marvel at the power and thrill it gives me to have a man like this before me. To make him squirm and beg.

Gently, I insert the tip of my finger into Matthew's hot, silken hole, feeling him clutch around my finger and then slide further inside. And my cock is going in THERE... God, to fuck and BE fucked for the second time in the same night... I'm in heaven or some close approximation. And—oh god, Mulder's not stopping to wait for me, he just getting into it at the same time, one hand parting my buttocks and the other applying slippery lube to my already-saliva-moistened crack. Shit, I may not be able to concentrate properly. And I want to do this right for Matthew.

Mulder has really long fingers. And, I discover, quite um... agile. Yes, agile is the word. For a beginner, the man has an amazing talent for hitting the perfect spot with the perfect amount of pressure again and again. Luckily, I seem to be managing to do the same for Matthew. He's making almost as much noise as I am.

Mulder, on the other hand, is completely silent. Concentrating on me. On my pleasure. His clever, clever fingers are buried in my ass, doing the most amazing things to my vocal chords—I've never heard such noises come out of my mouth.

With one more turn of his fingers inside of me, Mulder withdraws and leans forward to lay against my back and look over my shoulder. His hand comes around my hip and closes on my cock. I gasp and freeze.

"Do it, Mulder," Matthew gasps after looking back to see what the hold-up is.

Mulder nods and guides my cock to Matthew's entrance. My hand tightens on Matthew's hip and I move my hips slowly, rocking against him, holding him steady with my one hand.

"Oh, yesss."

Oh. That was Mulder. I guess he can speak after all. And, apparently the sight of Matthew being slowly filled with my erection is a sight he wholeheartedly approves of.

I'm sinking deep into Matthew, slowly, surely, sliding home, all the way in until I can go no further. Matthew is moaning and whimpering, and making little shuddery movements against me.

Mulder then places the head of his cock against the crack of my ass, sliding down a little with it until he reaches my hole. Then he presses in, slightly. I suck in a breath; I can't help myself—he IS big. I force myself to count to five, to relax, and then he's penetrating me even farther, as I lean against Matthew, still lodged in him, for support.

Pierced by Mulder's long, thick cock and it's so sweet, too sweet. I could die happy right here, like this, buried inside of Matthew's body and skewered between them like a morsel of meat in a sandwich... And I'm hungry again but I don't care because it feeds the rising floodwaters of pleasure. Hot and so good.

Then Mulder leans over me, all against my back, his skin so hot and slick with new sweat beading on him. And he says in my ear, low and all sultry so that his voice shakes me from the inside-out, "Ready, Alex? Let's BOTH fuck Matthew. Matthew?"

Matthew gives a kind of garbled gasp in response and Mulder starts to move, pressing me forward into Matthew, hard. As Mulder pulls back a little, his cock is large enough so that no matter how slight the movement, it's massaging my prostate and every motion in and out is equally enthralling. I'm trying not to come instantly as Matthew's ass clenches tight around my own cock.

"Oh goood," Mulder moans. "You feel... this is... " He tilts his head back, breathing deeply, then starts to move steadily, and he's talking. Murmuring in my ear, just loud enough for Matthew to hear him, too. "So hot, Alex. Like steamed velvet, wrapping itself around me, pulling me in, holding me there. Does Matthew feel like that to you? Did Alex feel like this earlier, Matthew?"

One of his hands is on Matthew's hip, pulling him back onto me forcefully just as Mulder thrusts into me from behind. And I'm screaming, I'm babbling, I'm begging, anything—GOD, anything—that will make him do that again.

He does. And again. Tearing screams from both my throat and Matthew's, Mulder guides our bodies in a steadily increasing rhythm, driving us toward a blinding pleasure that I'm desperate to fall into.

And he's still talking, I can't understand his words anymore, hell, I can't HEAR his words. I can only feel them. His lips moving against my ear, the sound reverberating around me, through me, making me shake with need.

Matthew, I vaguely note, seems to be in the same place. He's yelling as he pushes back against me with more and more force.

The violent beauty of being double-fucked like this is something that I never even knew I wanted and I'm sure it's something I'll always strive to experience again. To use and be used at the same time. With every brutal thrust into me, I can feel myself simultaneously melt all over Mulder's cock, my insides surging with the need to come in Matthew.

And I want to, oh god; yeah, to burst inside him. I want to explode inside of him like fucking GOD, a volcano, a fucking bomb-blast. It's the only way to relieve the pressure, I think. The build-up of having Mulder slamming into my ass like a battering-ram is unbearably perfect.

And I'm screaming hoarsely as Mulder is suddenly emptying himself into me, forcing himself into me in desperate jerks, bucking and straining. YES. At last. That crystal point of pain and ecstasy, to touch it on the inside of my head and feel Matthew shaking under me, as I remember to reach around my hand and grab his cock, hard. He cries out and caught between them, I'm finally able to let go. OH... FUCK... YES... GOD...

It's like lightening and thunder, a little storm inside my balls and my cock and my belly and even in my heart, as Mulder's voice is whispering in my ear and I don't think even he knows what words he's speaking. I'm shaking, the tenderness of it lancing me and with a final sob, I'm spurting the very last drops of come into Matthew, who's trembling.

We all collapse into an ungainly heap on the bed. I suspect that they're each as stunned as I am by what just happened. I've never felt anything quite so—I don't know—so overwhelming, I guess. I'm in a state of shock, I think.

Eventually, Mulder moves with a pained grunt. "Your hip is digging into my stomach," he grumbles.

"Oh yeah? Well your elbow is digging into my ribs."

"SOMEBODY'S knee is in a VERY dangerous place," Matthew warns us.

That gets everyone's attention. Carefully, Mulder climbs off, then I untangle my own limbs from Matthew's and lay down between them.

Between them. Again. Not a very safe place for a man like myself to fall asleep. Or so one might think. They'd be wrong.

"Sleepy," Mulder grumbles.

"Happy," Matthew says with a sigh.

"'s fuckin' amazing," I contribute.

"Yeah," they both agree drowsily.

"Should shower," I mention.

"Sleepy," says Mulder again.

"We should shower and change the sheets," I insist.

"Sleepy," says Matthew.

"Nope," says Mulder. "I'm Sleepy—you're Happy."

"Okay," says Matthew. "'m Happy."

And I don't know what the fuck they're talking about. "You can BOTH be sleepy AND happy."

That makes Matthew rustle slightly beside me. "No. That's not allowed. We can't be both, and not both at the same time."

Mulder appears to agree. "'S'right. And I'm still Sleepy. You're Happy." Then he pauses. "So which one is Alex?"

Matthew thinks about it. "He can be all the others."

"ALL of them?" Mulder is surprised.

"Yep. First he was Grumpy, then he was Bashful, then he was Dopey."

What the FUCK?! "What the hell are you two on about?"

"And right now, he's Snow White," Mulder declares, a little triumphantly.

Oh. Okay. Right. I get it now. "Snow White," I say, icily.

"Go to sleep, Alex. And you can be Sleeping Beauty instead," Matthew murmurs in my ear before kissing me.

Mulder appears to think this is a good idea and he says, "I'll be the Prince." And he kisses me on the other cheek.

This is going too far. It's gone on for too long. "Fine. We're the Disney outfit. Now PLEASE can't we sleep? I'm sorry I mentioned anything about sheets or showers."

Matthew is silent. They are both silent.

Matthew starts up again in the darkness... "What about me?"

I groan. Mulder says, "What ABOUT you?"

"I want to be the prince."

Mulder sighs loudly. "Okay, okay. You can be the other prince. You know, the one from Sleeping Beauty."

Matthew brightens. "Oh. That's—great. I can handle that. Thanks, Fox."

Mulder is quiet. Then he giggles.

At this point all I can do is grin in the dark. Stuck between two gorgeous lunatics, both completely crazy, and very good lovers, besides. Lovers. Mulder, and Matthew, and me. Whoever would've thought?

End

xx

jennieemcg@aol.com
jamiwilsen@hotmail.com

TITLE: Strange Crossroads
AUTHORS: Jami and Jennie
DISCLAIMER: Not ours, and more's the pity. *sigh*
FANDOM: XFiles/Crossover—Lunch With Charles
PAIRING: Mulder/Krycek/Matthew
RATING: NC-17 for language, m/m sex and... a good buzz [g]
ARCHIVE: Yes—to RatB, Fries and DitB—anyone else wants it—just ask
DISCLAIMER: Not our characters—no copyright infringement intended
NOTES: Our thanks to Doss, Deb, Jamie Joyce, Sue and Ursula for the beta's (Yes, we had a whole herd of beta's on this one). You guys rock!
SUMMARY: Matthew finds the perfect way to help Mulder and Krycek with their issues about each other—and life in general.
WARNING: This story contains twincest and recreational pot smoking.

back to top



[Stories by Author] [Stories by Title] [Mailing List] [Krycek/Skinner] [Links] [Submissions] [Home]