"Come." The invitation was curt, and Special Agent Fox Mulder entered
quickly.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Mulder entered the office and closed the door,
striding across to the desk where Skinner sat and hovering, apparently
perfectly content to wait forever if that was indicated.
"Sit down, Agent Mulder." Mulder made himself comfortable, crossing his legs
and leaning back in the chair with elegant poise.
"I asked you to come in to see me on a matter of the utmost delicacy." Mulder
nodded silently. "What do you know about a club called 'The Cat's
Whiskers'?"
Mulder appeared to give the matter some thought. He knew the place, of
course, but didn't want AD Skinner to get the idea that he spent any real
quality time there. Although having said that, he did want Skinner to think
he spent time somewhere other than in front of his TV, cock in one hand and
the remote in another. "Not much. It's an upscale strip joint. From what I
understand, it caters to Washington's elite."
"Ah," Skinner shifted uneasily in his seat. "That's just the thing I wanted
to talk to you about."
Mulder frowned. This was strange. "Has there been some crime committed
there?"
"It would appear that the club is more than it seems. Someone there is using
the high profile visitors as a meal ticket." Skinner was refusing to meet
Mulder's eyes, and Mulder was baffled. This was very strange indeed.
"I'm sure the local PD can handle..." Skinner shifted uneasily. "Sir?"
"The local police are fine in their way, but hardly discreet enough to handle
something that involves high ranking government officials." From the way the
brown eyes skittered over the desk rather than meeting Mulder's own, and the
way Skinner was writhing in his chair, there was something that his boss
wasn't sharing with him.
"Are you saying that one of the clubs employees is blackmailing a patron?"
Mulder's drawl belied the keen interest he was beginning to feel.
"I'm saying that would seem to be the case, except for the fact that it's
more than one patron." Skinner's behavior was that of a man who would rather
be somewhere, anywhere, but here.
Mulder ruthlessly suppressed a grin. "Go on."
"You have a special tie with Senator Matheson, don't you?" Skinner's voice
was dropping. There was something here, something tantalizing. Mulder
leaned forward, fascinated at the behavior his boss was exhibiting.
"He has been sympathetic to my work, yes." He was avidly taking in the
shuffling feet and the twisting hands. He was enjoying this. Skinner
cleared his throat before continuing, stalling for time and trying to phrase
his explanation in the least damaging way.
" It would seem that the Senator has been... indiscreet." The words were
torn from Skinner's throat as if by barbed wire. "I'm sure he would value
your assistance in expediting this matter, Agent Mulder."
"Oh really? Indiscreet in what way?" Mulder asked, his face a mask of
amused inquisition.
" He had a...shall we say, unfortunate liaison with one of the ladies that
works in the club." Skinner rose from his chair and went to the window,
unable to meet Mulder's smirk with the stoic reprimand it deserved. He
continued, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. "There was
a party to celebrate his success with that bill...the 819 thing. He and
several other officials were somewhat less than sensible."
This was starting to get old fast, and Mulder was beginning to smell a rat.
"With all due respect, Sir, what's my assignment?"
The burly man turned to Mulder, suddenly appearing to make a decision.
Mulder braced himself. "We need to find out who's behind the blackmail
attempts, Agent Mulder. There's a lot at stake. A whole lot more than I
find comfortable."
I just bet there is, thought Mulder to himself. Aloud, his voice was
dispassionate. "I'm assuming there is some sort of photographic material
involved?"
There was a definite flinch as Skinner heard the words. "Uh, yes, you could
put it that way. A copy of a video was sent to Senator Matheson and to
certain other people this morning. We have to move quickly," he concluded,
hoping his definitive statement would quell Mulder's curious mind, but Walter
Skinner was never that lucky.
"Am I also safe in assuming that this video depicts the Senator in a less
than dignified light?" Mulder persisted with his torturous investigation.
His boss turned away again, dancing from one foot to the other, his hands
jutting in and out of his pockets, making Mulder smirk like a school boy who
had just caught his teacher smoking in the boys' room. "I'm sensing a
certain amount of agitation coming from you, Sir. Is there something else I
should be aware of?"
Skinner turned and faced his subordinate squarely. "I don't know what you
mean. We're talking scandal, Agent Mulder, the kind of thing that brings
down governments. Isn't this enough?" He was desperate for Mulder to let
it drop, but he really knew better. Mulder never let anything drop. Even
now he was donning his most professional face. The arched eyebrow, the sharp
eyes analyzing the suspect, he was every bit Special Agent Mulder the
profiler now.
"Walter? " Mulder goaded, his tone the same one he used on a suspect who
wanted to confess but just needed a little push.
Skinner knew he was caught. Honesty was the only way out. "Mulder, this is
all such a mess," he nearly sobbed. He grabbed the glass of water from his
desk and drank deeply, his hand slopping a little as he raised it. "Off the
record, there was what amounted to an... orgy... the other night."
Mulder chuckled in disbelief. He wasn't sure what he'd expected his boss to
say, but this wasn't it. His involuntary exclamation was loud in the quiet
of the office. "An orgy?" Skinner flinched again, and shushed him.
Mulder was grinning openly now, but the grin was wiped from his face by the
AD's next statement. "The Director and several of the ADs were present...
including myself. We are unfortunately now immortalized in an extremely
badly produced pornographic movie and knowing that you have some expertise in
this area, I thought that I'd get you to make some inquiries."
"So far my expertise, as you put it, has been limited to watching such
entertainment, not starring in it." Mulder's voice was dry, and Skinner
retreated to the window again.
"An orgy?" Mulder repeated to himself, shaking his head. Damn! Why hadn't
he been invited? Clearing his throat, he attempted to regain his composure.
"Ahem... who are your suspects?"
Trying to regain the 'AD composure' he had spent years perfecting, he spoke
to his agent as if this were any other assignment instead of one that would
save the collective asses of the powers that be. "There are a few employees
at the club we think maybe involved...here's a list of their names."
Mulder was willing to play along. He had to work for this man everyday. It
was in his best interests to allow him to keep at least the illusion of
dignity, but still..."What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked with mock
bewilderment.
Skinner sighed and collapsed heavily into his chair. He had fought the good
fight, but there was no getting out of this with his pride intact. It was
time to accept the inevitable. "Mulder, this is no place for levity. I'd
count it as a personal favor if you'd go and look into this for me, before it
gets out."
It was time to let the quivering boss-man off the hook. Mulder got up and
walked to his boss's side, and placed his hand comfortingly on Skinner's
shoulder. Despite the concern that oozed from every visible pore there was,
however, still room for one more jab. "Alright, alright...I'll go in and get
the big bad stripper for you...but you owe me one," he said with a smile,
winking at the hopeless man in the chair.
Mulder turned to leave, a grin on his face that he just couldn't get rid of.
He was sure that the other man would bellow any second. The response, when
it came, made him pause and turn back. Skinner was far from bellowing. He
was scared.
"If you can nip this one in the bud before it gets public and messy, I won't
be the only one who owes you one. You know that Sharon and I just got back
together?"
Daylight dawned. No wonder the old man had his panties in a twist. He'd
forgotten. Damn! That must really be nerve-wracking for his boss. He
adopted a sincere face and made noises that were calculated to soothe
"I know. I was really pleased for you."
"It will be a pretty short-lived reconciliation if this gets out." Skinner
took another sip from his glass, then took a deep breath. "Will you do it?"
Mulder looked at his boss, who was wearing the kind of hopeful expression
he'd seen on puppies in the pet shop. This is going to be good, he thought
to himself. Out loud, he said, "I'm going to need some money...cash...these
girls can smell a cop a mile away...the perfume of greenbacks would be the
best cover."
"You have carte blanche to requisition whatever you need. Just bring back
results, Agent Mulder." The decisiveness in Skinner's voice was a thing of
rare beauty.
"What? No receipts?" he retorted, a guileless smile spreading across his
face. "Was the video taken at the club or was it a private party?" he asked,
off the cuff.
Skinner's reply came clipped and concise, "It was a private party on the
club's premises."
" 'The Cat's Whiskers', huh?" he asked with a chuckle. Not expecting a reply
he turned to leave yet again. When Skinner's voice stopped him, he simply
turned his head and looked over his shoulder. "Hmmm?"
"Never mind...just go, okay?" Skinner sighed heavily. His fate rested in
the hands of his most impetuous, irresponsible, and brilliant agent...and to
tell the truth, they were the only hands he actually trusted.
Mulder shook his head in amusement and turned to go. As he went, a tune came
into his head, and he began to hum the tune to the Meow Mix commercial, his
eyes alight with mischief.
"Meow, meow, meow, meow... " This time Skinner did bellow.
"GO!"
He was out the door a split second before the stapler hit....
Mulder had gone straight from the Hoover Building to his tailor. He'd spent
a fair amount of time having a ready-to-wear suit re-tailored to fit
perfectly, and he knew that he looked good. He'd bought a whole bunch of
very classy items, and he was all set for a night out on the town. Entering
the apartment, his new suit swathed in protective plastic and slung over his
shoulder, he closed the door and began to get undressed. The little voice,
when it came, was no surprise.
Hey, looky here! Daylight! Are you gonna start strangling me again? I
haven't recovered from this morning.
Smiling with pleasure, Fox Mulder gazed down at his penis. Lifting its head,
his penis gazed back at him from an eye that was suspiciously red.
"What's up with you? I thought you'd be thrilled. We get to go out."
Mulder had always been of the opinion that it was rude to ignore someone who
spoke to you, and he had been blessed—or as he sometimes thought, cursed— with a very chatty dick. He found himself quite frequently embroiled in
conversations that would have bordered on the surreal had he been anyone
else. "Aren't you the least bit interested in what we have to do tonight?"
You're gonna have to trim those fingernails, you know. They seriously cut
into my... Why? Something good? His dick—Mulder called him Marty—was
feeling spunky tonight. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
"Skinner at an orgy...unbelievable." The joke was too good. Mulder chuckled
all over again.
Marty was astonished. What? That's impossible...
"Weren't you listening this morning?"
The little voice came, sarcastic as usual. After what you did to me in the
shower? A guy has to sleep sometime you know, besides, Skinner bores me.
What's happenin'?
"We're going out tonight...on the government." He began to lay out the new
suit, humming "Meow, meow, meow, meow," as he did so.
Oh, my God! Who do we get to fuck?
"Funny you should put it quite that way..." Mulder's rich chuckle echoed
around the apartment as he continued to unpack his purchases. "I guess you
like the suit?"
Why? Marty sounded suspicious. Someone gonna fuck US? I like the idea
of a real workout. Mmmm. Silk. Nice. Don't bother with the undies.
I'll...rough it.
Mulder snorted. "Oh, yeah? In the frame of mind you're in right now? No
way, buddy, this is Hugo Boss. I intend on keeping it stain-free for a
while."
You're so chinchy. You never let me have real fun... just Palmolive and the
'Fickle Fingers of Fate.
"Not tonight, my dishpan friend. Tonight we are going to have some fun."
Oh, shoot... Er, when I say shoot, you know what I mean, don't you?"
Mulder's intestines chose that very moment to backfire, breaking wind with a
sharp sound. The dick was very speedy with his reprimand. "Be quiet,
asshole. I have the floor. So, what's Skinner been doing? It seems strange
to think of him as having a dick, you know.
As he continued to get ready, Mulder responded without even thinking.
"Apparently, he not only has a dick, he's been using it on some of the city's
lovely ladies of the night. So has Senator Matheson and so have several
others from the DC Boy's Club."
He felt his favorite body part cringe in dismay. Now that really is a
passion killer. Matheson is not my type at all. Skinner now... he's built,
wouldn't you say?
The thought gave him a moment's pause, and he considered the mental image
being conjured.
"I suppose. I never quite thought of him that way."
He sat down on the bed to put on his socks, still contemplating the fact that
his boss was in fact a sexual creature when Marty supplied yet another mental
picture worth a thousand words Oh, man, you could crack walnuts with that
butt. I'd stand no chance.
"Hmmm, something to consider I suppose, the next time he reams me out in his
office... NO! STOP!" He scolded. " What are you trying to do to me? He's
my boss!" He continued to protest as he tried to banish the thoughts from
both his heads.
Oh, my! The thought of him reaming you out has its appeal... I'd love to
ream him out even though it wouldn't be love... You know who I really want,
don't you? The little voice fell like a stream of hot wax onto Mulder's
shrinking skin.
"Oh, damn. Here we go again." He cast about for a way of heading off his
other self. "Remember the walnut-cracking butt... you'd be in just as much
trouble, buddy."
The response was instantaneous. It would be a good hurt though...
Mulder sighed. Time to nip this conversation in the bud. There were things
he really didn't want to talk about, not here, not now, not ever! "Don't
start this now, or I'll do to you what I did this morning."
Jesus! Not unless you cut those fucking fingernails. Marty's wail was a
supersonic screech.
He held up his hands in mock surrender, and attempted to calm the small
being. "Hey, it's your own fault...I told you to stay away from that
subject, but you wouldn't listen."
Marty quivered a little. It's a damned good job I've already been
circumcised, you know that?
Mulder raised his hands to his tie and began to straighten the almost perfect
knot. "So don't start again...tonight, I wanna have a good time." He
finished and looked down into Marty's one eye protruding from his unzipped
fly "No being difficult, you hear me?"
Difficult? Moi? I'm the easiest thing you've ever owned, replied the
appendage with a twitch that could have passed for a wink.
"Uh-huh." Mulder responded blandly. "Just remember that." He looked up into
the full-length mirror inside his closet door and smiled at the reflection.
"We look pretty damn good. Calm down a little, will ya? You're spoiling the
lines in my pants."
The tickling laugh echoed up to Mulder as he firmly pushed Marty inside and
closed his zipper. Think I'll be arrested for loitering within tent?
He shuddered. "Probably, you reprobate. Just go back to sleep for a while.
I'll wake you when we get to the fun house."
He stood, trying to organize the unruly appendage so that he didn't appear to
have a hard-on the size of the Empire State building, but failed miserably,
The reply drifted up to him. Marty was feeling playful tonight. Oh, you're
getting dictatorial. Dick-tatorial...geddit? Hnyah..
Damn, it always came to this. It was time to show him who set the rules. He
moved to the freezer compartment where he kept insurance against this very
problem on ice ready. Sighing, he opened up his fly again and smacked
Marty's head with a cold spoon then quickly tucked him down, wincing as he
did so. "Ha ha ha...Goodnight." Then, he zipped his fly and headed for the
door, chuckling to himself.
The grunt was music to his ears. mpffff... bastard....
Mulder laughed heartily as he made for the door with a strut in his step,
ready to play.
Pulling up to the club called 'The Cat's
Whiskers', Mulder parked the car and turned off the ignition. He turned the
rear view mirror and used it to adjust his tie for the umpteenth time. When
he was satisfied that it just wasn't going to get any straighter, he climbed
out, whistling to himself as he tossed his keys to the valet.
"We're here." Mulder's elation was plain.
Marty didn't sound quite so happy; in fact, he sounded irritated. Show me!
I can't see very well from in here.
Mulder stood surveying the entrance to the club, and grinned to himself at
the thought of the disruption that it might cause were he to do as Marty
requested. "I can't just take you out right here, you know. You'll just
have to trust me."
Do you think you could walk a little less...repressed? You're chafing me.
The snappish reply just pointed up the mood his small companion was working
on. He began to worry about the success of the evening to come.
Like a child about to feast on his Halloween spoils, Mulder rubbed his hands
together greedily in anticipation. "Sorry...just a little excited is all."
Hey, me too. Cut me some slack, big boy!
He ran his hands once again down the fabric of his suit smoothing the lines
and coming awfully close to touching the top of the bulge in his pants. A
smile came over him at the mental picture of ruffling Marty's imaginary hair.
"Ready to go in?"
In whom? Marty responded with a mischievous twitch as Mulder sighed,
exasperated. Uh... that's not what you meant, is it?
"Let's start with the club and see from there, shall we?" His voice was the
epitome of patronizing condescension, as if he were placating a nagging wife.
Works for me, the thin little voice snickered. It's hard, but someone's
got to do it.
Mulder choked back the urge to take his out-of-control organ and shake it
until it was silent, but on reflection he decided that Marty would probably
enjoy the abuse. Sighing, he turned towards the club and began to walk.
As he reached the front door, he couldn't resist murmuring. So, what do you
think?
About what?
Look in front of you, stupid. They're everywhere. Mulder could see pale
limbs and dark eyes wherever his eyes fell.
Marty's voice cut through a testosterone-induced reverie. Hey, willya look
at that bouncer. He's really stacked! Despite his owner's intention, Marty
continued his stealthy one-eyed perusal. Oh, man, check out that ass...
Unwilling to believe that any part of his anatomy was that dense (except when
the situation called for it) Mulder kept thinking to his dick in an even,
calm tone. Not him you schmuck! The ones inside.
He could feel Marty's version of 'up periscope' as the little guy crooked
around the corner to see the action. And then came the quiver of shock.
What? came the horrified response. But...but they're... ewwwwwwww!
Marty slumped down and tried to regain his composure before finishing the
irritatingly obvious statement. ...women.
But you promised to be easy tonight. Mulder's tone was plaintive. One
would almost say that he whined. Adjusting himself furtively, he reiterated,
You promised.
I am easy... for the right guy. The annoying little voice was beginning to
drive Mulder mad. He took a deep breath and ignoring the irritation he felt,
he strode into the club.
Finding himself a table, he sat and ordered a ridiculously overpriced
Manhattan from the scantily clad waitress who materialized at his elbow.
You have the wrong club for that sort of thing, pal o' mine. He was still
trying to make his wayward organ walk the line—impossible as that may have
seemed. Mulder paused for a minute, then planted his feet firmly,
figuratively speaking of course, to stand his ground. Tonight we're on the
straight and narrow... so to speak.
Well hurry up and take me to the right club! Marty was growing more and
more impatient with every passing pair of breasts his other half ogled. I
don't go just anywhere, you know. Some of these two-dollar whores would
infect me with the galloping itch.
Add a couple of zeroes to that price tag...these girls are top of the line,
Mulder corrected his errant appendage. And the bill is being footed by
Uncle Sam himself, he added dryly.
I'll trade you the Silicon Valley over there for a pair of green eyes and a
tight ass, whined his dick. Mulder, getting really angry by now, crossed
his legs firmly, and made Marty yelp. ...and a leather jacket. Despite his
owner's brutality, the small being was irrepressible.
I'm sure there is someone here that fits that description. Mulder looked
around as he murmured, searching for just such a woman.
Marty's response made him grit his teeth. Where is he?
Oh, fuck it!
She! She! Can't you give me a break just this once? He was going to be
as difficult as he could, but then when was he not? It was time to get firm.
He was never going to have a good time if his own body kept on sabotaging
him. Let him lay it on the line right at the start. We've got work to do
here.
Work? The voice was doleful. You said a four-letter word!
We're here to find the one responsible for blackmailing Skinner. That's
work. The fact that I'm going to enjoy it is a bonus for sure, but it's
still work. Mulder accepted his drink from the girl and plucked the cherry
from the glass, sucking idly on it as he surveyed the club's interior.
Give him a break, he says! What about me? Lured here under false
pretenses... Again the little voice jarred on his sensibilities. He
sighed, and uncrossed his legs again.
I've gotta set up a cover, and you'd better cooperate. All I told you was we
were going out... I never lied. He sipped at his Manhattan and surveyed a
nearby dancer who was doing her best to shake her boobs loose from her torso.
Watching the sway of the generous endowments that were masquerading as a set
of ridiculously over-active mammary glands, Marty began to twitch back and
forth, like a snake being charmed from its basket.
Am I gonna be fucking for the FBI? I'm such a slut!
Mulder smiled brightly. Yes you are. But you're my slut. Maybe this
wouldn't be as tough as he thought.
He felt all hope float upward and away when Marty decided to lay down and
die. Nope, sorry, Mulder, I can't do it.
Can't do what? Mulder snapped in horror.
Can't go fucking these plastic bimbos, the obstinate appendage replied as
he snuggled down comfortably inside the silk of his owner's boxers.
Don't start this, Mulder pleaded. I have a job to do here, and I need
you to help me do it. You won't have to touch any of them, just look
interested. Mulder was trying hard now, casting about for something with
which he could tempt his recalcitrant organ.
Marty, well aware of his power, and loving every minute of it, yawned. Time
for a nap. Wake me if you see any really cute rough trade.
Mulder sat at the small round table, looking up at the virtually naked woman
above him. She looked down at the john, becoming just a bit annoyed when she
saw the lack of interest on his face.
She's awfully cute, he said to his other head in a manner that was meant
to tantalize, but which didn't seem to be having the desired effect. Why
aren't you interested?
If I wanted to play the xylophone, I'd get a xylophone, was the unpleasant
retort. Look at her ribs. She's scrawny. Call that sexy?
Awww, come on. Those tits are amazing. Even as he articulated the
thought, Mulder knew that he shouldn't have said it. He flinched as he
awaited the response that was sure to come. He wasn't disappointed.
Listen man, those tits are totally static. Silicone city, man. The new
Barbie. Ewww!
Determined to ignore the protests of his more id-driven bits and pieces,
Mulder held up a twenty-dollar bill. The woman swayed her body closer,
giving the obviously wealthy patron below better access to her G-string.
Marty retreated a bit more, any further and he would have become an innie
instead of an outie. Be careful. You don't know where she's been.
Still determined, Mulder reached out and gently ran his hand from knee
to...well, let's just say she got her money. As his hand journeyed back to
safety, he tried once more to entice Marty out of his hidey-hole. Feel
that? That's like silk.
Unable to watch the travesty under way, Marty searched desperately for ways
to become inverted. Nonsense! She opens beer bottles with her navel!
She's got a beard! She wears army shoes! Frustrated, Mulder rose from the
table.
Like silk, I said. Mulder had begun to sweat.
Marty sighed. So's your suit, you hormone-riddled clown; in fact it is
silk, and I like it a lot better.
He surrendered very suddenly, not wishing to experience any more of Marty's
attempts at inversion. Sagging down in his seat, he looked around,
desperately. All right, there must be someone here that interests you,
point me in the right direction. How about that redhead over there? The one
that kinda looks like Scully. Mmmmm? I think I like the thought of that.
Any possibility that he was going to achieve penile co-operation disappeared
from his thoughts as Marty's response came back, acid and unwelcome. I've
got this urge to turn myself inside out and hide behind your liver. What are
you trying to do to me?
Oh, shut up! I'm going to enjoy this with or without you. Gritting his
teeth, he beckoned to the redhead he'd singled out for attention, and smiled,
somewhat savagely. From within his pants came the sound of muffled retching.
Truth to tell, Marty was afraid of Dr. Scully and her scalpel...
The girl was dancing for a small table of men, but when Mulder flashed a
fifty dollar bill and used it in a come hither gesture, she decided to follow
the money. He found a comfortable chair against the wall, and beckoned her
onto his lap. The redhead attacked the silken suited FBI agent with gusto,
winding herself sinuously around him as she attempted to catch and hold his
complete attention.
She straddled his thighs, but remained just a hair's breadth away from
touching what was supposed to be a loaded weapon, cocked and ready to fire.
More man-made-mams were waved in front of the frustrated agent, but to no
avail. Heh...gonna try to enjoy it without me? Hey, big boy, seen my
impression of a piece of string?
Mulder appeared fascinated by the gyrations of the dancer. She can really
move, he protested.
Hmmm! She can really move off my head. She's making me feel nauseous,
was the uncompromising reply, and Mulder's heart sank to his boots as he came
to the realization that he'd given it his best shot, and probably lost. He
ran his hand from her belly along the lines of her body, between her breasts
and back down the way it came.
Oh, come on, man. Give it a try. You're gonna love it. Marty remained
unimpressed.
And you think that this is gonna get me up and running? Hoo, boy! was the
reply, and it was accompanied by the kind of offensive noise that small boys
make when their teacher isn't looking.
Mulder sighed, and received a perplexed look from the dancer who was still
industriously shaking her booty at him.
Come on out and try this. You might like it. He leaned his head back and
closed his eyes. He felt the glide and grind of the body above his and
sighed when she finally reached down between their bodies to stroke what
should have been an erection. Come on, for goodness' sake. She wants to
play with you.
Listen. My mother told me to stay away from strange women, and she's the
strangest thing you've exposed me to in ages.
I haven't exposed you to her. I've been very good. Mulder, desperate now
to salvage some of the evening that had started so well, and gone sour so
rapidly, attempted to reopen negotiations. What's wrong with her?
Marty's voice reached an earsplitting level that made Mulder cringe in spite
of himself.
I've already told you half a dozen times. I. DON'T. WANT. A. SKANKY.
WHORE. She looks like Scully, for God's sake. She'll check behind your ears
to see if you washed, and she'll snark at you if you scratch me.
Mulder begged. His pride long gone, he was trying for compromise. Will you
just try it? Please? For me? Think of all the things I've done for you?
Be warned, was the reply. Besides, she's not my type. I like something
taller, broader in the chest. The little voice grew dreamy as he painted his
word picture, then sharp as the import of Mulder's statement went home.
What have you done for me anyway? You shake me about until I throw up.
That's about it.
Work with me here, buddy. I'm just trying to get you some action. What's
it gonna take to make you happy? Mulder was at his most persuasive, but the
reply soon smacked him down.
Like I said...tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Green eyes... mmmm...yeah. Then I
want a bit of attitude.
Mulder could see where that was leading, and he'd had enough. He spoke out
loud, making the dancer who was still half-heartedly trying to arouse him
jump out of her skin. "OH NO YOU DON'T! NOT AGAIN!"
Marty continued with his eulogy. Someone that isn't...What? His voice
stopped, as he became aware of Mulder's outburst. Now what's yanking your
chain?
YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GO THERE! At least Mulder hadn't yelled it out loud,
but even so, the dancer hastily backed away, and left to find another, more
tractable subject for her charms.
Go where? What's all the fuss? Marty's voice was innocence personified,
and butter would not have melted anywhere near him. Mulder, however, was not
moved.
Thanks...you've officially ruined this place for me. He got up and made
his way to the front of the club. How could you?
How could I what? Didn't do a damned thing. I don't know what you're
talking about. You know I like what I like. As the trouser snake continued
his protestations of innocence, Mulder cut through the bluster.
You can't have him. End of conversation.
Just because I want something special, whined the penis.
Mulder was livid. Oh, come on! You know as well as I do the things he's
done to me. YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!
Don't think that you're gonna pacify me with a bunch of bimbos. I want the
real thing. Going on strike 'til I get it. Besides, I know the things I
want to do to him. The voice grew higher in pitch until it was a squeak of
excitement. Marty leered a little, and stiffened up.
Mulder had reached a state of unalloyed exasperation by this time. Fine.
Be that way. I can live without it—can you?
Ohhhhh God, yes! Marty's imagination was running riot now, and he really
wasn't listening to anything that the G-man was saying to him. He stiffened
a little more.
I thought you were going on strike? inquired Mulder, mildly.
Marty just wasn't listening. He's got those eyes. How can you resist those
eyes?
Easily, snapped Mulder as he left the club, his hopes for the evening lying
in tatters.
Just imagine his lips... those plump, juicy lips wrapped around me. It
would feel so good. Marty was really getting into it now, and somehow, he
had a raging hard-on happening. Mulder was practically beside himself as he
reflected on the waste.
He's a backstabbing bastard. How could you possibly consider...? He was
still trying to reason with his dick. He was sure that if he persisted, he
would somehow achieve control of his hormones.
Considering where I want to stab him, I don't think it really matters. The
dick seemed to have an answer to everything. Mulder reflected that it was no
wonder he was such an annoying son of a bitch. After all, he'd learned it
from the best there was.
Well he isn't here anyway, so you're just shit out of luck. Mulder
rounded the corner and came within sight of his car. He stopped short,
taking in the shadowy figure sitting on the front of it. A strange feeling
of inevitability dropped across him. He was doomed. He could see that now.
Doomed!
Alex Krycek was sitting on the hood of his car.
"Oh fuck!" The expletive was heartfelt.
Bingo! Marty was onto it in a flash. Care for a little testosterone
tango, big guy?
He stood up, ramrod straight, as if it mattered a damn any more.
SHUT UP! screamed Mulder, inside his head. Shut up or I promise the only
thing that'll touch you for the next month is underwear washed without the
benefit of fabric softener.
Oh, bring it on, scoffed his bursting erection. It will hurt you as much
as it hurts me.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Krycek?" Mulder had stopped, yards from
his car, and was waiting for Krycek to fling off his earthly guise and stand
revealed with cloven hoofs and horns. So far, it hadn't happened, but the
night was young.
"Oh, I came to see if you were satisfied with the company. Getting
adventurous aren't you? Giving up on your palm pilot?" Krycek's soft voice
was scathing in reply. There was a certain laughter in it that Mulder took
personally.
"See me?" Mulder took a step forward. "See me laughing?" Another step. "I
didn't think so." He was close enough to grab the offensively smirking man
and hurl him off the front of his car, and he did so efficiently. Then he
moved around to the driver's side and began to open the door.
Krycek sprawled on his back in the road, and sighed in a long-suffering way.
"That's the trouble with you, Mulder. No sense of humor to speak of. " He
pulled himself upright once more, betraying an unconscious grace that Mulder
and his dick noticed simultaneously.
"Unless there's some reason for me to talk to you right now, I'm leaving."
Mulder spoke through gritted teeth, and having opened the door, prepared to
step inside the car.
Marty, afraid that Mulder was just going to drive away, decided to join in
the fray.
Afraid of yourself, are you? Come on man, look at him. What do you have to
lose?
My self-respect, my partner, my soul. declared Mulder, somewhat
sanctimoniously.
Marty sniggered rudely. Your hard-on?
Fuck you! Even as he said it, Mulder knew it was a mistake.
Oh, yes please.
Of course. Go ahead, you prick. Make my day. I thought after I finished
puberty that we agreed that I would decide where you went to play.
Krycek chose this moment to go on air again.
"So what's new, Mulder? Didn't any of them in there want you? I'd have
thought it wouldn't be hard to find one. You're sporting designer duds and
other such indications of affluence."
Mulder snorted. As ever, Krycek flicked him on the raw and sidetracked him
from his real purpose.
"I'm on assignment, Krycek. I don't need to buy my company the way you do."
Krycek clutched at his chest and mimed falling down.
"Oh, touché. You got me with that one. However, let me just tell you that I
get what I go after, whenever I decide to go after it." He licked his lips
and looked down at Fox junior. Mulder was conscious of the siren singing of
his nether regions. He bit his lip, angry at being exposed in this way. As
Krycek drew in closer to him, Mulder drew back a fist and lashed out,
striking his irritating ex-partner on the jaw and knocking him back down onto
his ass. He sat holding the side of his face and looking darkly at Mulder.
"I'm too tired to beat the shit out of you tonight. So unless there's
something else..." Mulder started to get into the car, trying to ignore any
further sound from the other man, as he climbed slowly back to his feet. No
deal. The sound of the husky voice, hoarse with secrets that might never be
told, arrested his progress and made him turn around.
"Don't you want to know what I came here to tell you? No? Okay, I'll go
now. Have a really good night, Mulder. " Krycek grinned to himself and
turned away slowly, giving Mulder ample time to call him back, and knowing
that Mulder wouldn't be able to let him go.
"Alright." The heavy sigh gave away the fact that Mulder had known he'd give
in. Krycek didn't bother to wipe away the smirk as he turned back to face
him. "What is it now, Krycek? More army bases that have already been
deserted? Or maybe another speech on impending doom?"
Krycek had turned away again, but not before Mulder had caught the flash of
teeth as his nemesis tried to muffle his grin. "Well, actually, I thought
you might like to know about your beloved AD Skinner's predilections, but if
you're not interested..."
Mulder's hand found a solid purchase on the back of Krycek's collar and
yanked him around until they were face to face. Krycek growled a little at
this, but didn't resist, much to Mulder's annoyance. "Why would I be
interested in anything that comes out of your mouth? I'm not even sure you
know how to tell the truth."
Krycek eased himself out of Mulder's grip, sneering offensively, and backed
away.
"Well, I guess I'll let you get home. I can see that you're anxious to shake
hands with your best friend." He cast a leering eye over the bulge where
'little Fox' was showing his interest in the most unmistakable way.
For an instant, Mulder considered chasing after Krycek, and pounding his face
into the concrete, but after a moment he settled for getting into the car and
starting the engine.
"I don't need this shit!" he muttered to himself.
No. Wait. Don't go. The stupid damned appendage was shrieking now,
standing to attention as though it was the President's birthday.
"Why the hell not?" Mulder was incredulous. His own body would sell him
down the river without a qualm.
Because we want him, you fucking idiot, howled Marty. Because he's
ours...MINE, godammit!
"No, he's not," protested Mulder. "You may want him, but I don't!" As he
drove away, Marty began to sob.
"Don't pout!" Mulder attempted to re-open negotiations with his best friend.
Hey, asshole. You ever want another cheap thrill? Mulder shook his head.
"That's exactly what it would be. Don't you have any pride?"
A nasty laugh resonated from his mid section. ME? Pride? I'm a PENIS!
Are you out of your MIND?
Mulder shrugged. "Obviously...I'm still talking to you."
Marty expanded on his theme. Since when did I ever need to have any pride?
I know what I want, and that's all that I want.
"Which is why the brains of this team is not in your head," snapped Mulder,
growing tired of an argument that he knew he couldn't win.
If you had half a brain you'd have grabbed him, was the waspish reply. He
wants you. Trust me.I know.
"How long do you think it would take Scully to decide to shoot me again if
she found out that we fucked him?" Mulder demanded.
What we do on our nights off has nothing to do with Scully, his dick
screamed at him, adding rather unnecessarily, Besides, I'd rather that you
shot me now than got it on with that female.
"Hey, watch it! She's an amazing woman." Mulder's protest sounded lame,
even to himself, and he busied himself drawing his car up and parking beside
the curb.
She may be amazing, but she doesn't ring my chimes. Too short...too...
Scully. Her eyes are blue, not green... Mulder rolled his eyes as he
climbed out of the car.
"Oh brother. Here we go again."
Mulder entered the elevator, and pushed the button for the fourth floor. He
was tired, disappointed and generally pissed off. The last thing he wanted
was to listen to a eulogy about his mortal enemy. Marty pressed on,
disregarding Mulder's increasing frustration.
He's so beautiful. How could you not want him? I mean, look at him.
Tall, slim...sensual. Look at that face. Look at those legs. That ass.
Besides, if Krycek doesn't want you he sure as hell wants me! I'm a dick, I
should know!
Sighing heavily, Mulder stepped out of the elevator and made for the door to
his apartment and another evening alone with a copy of "Most Wanted" and his
strong right hand. "All right, so I want him. But that doesn't mean I
should have him. Give me one good reason to listen to you instead of my
conscience."
The howl of triumph from Marty was so loud, Mulder was sure that the whole
world could hear him. Because he's such a damn fine fuck? Oh, come on.
Give him to me... please? Marty raised himself up, thoughts of a
delectable triple agent filling his head, and all of a sudden he was hard
again.
Mulder gritted his teeth. "Once again you're shit out of luck." He smiled
at the elderly lady who was just emerging from the apartment across the
corridor, and dove into his own just as soon as he got the door open. "Come
on. We're going to bed right now. Let's have no more of this nonsense."
Mulder's voice trailed away, and his jaw dropped onto his chest as he caught
sight of Alex Krycek, buck naked, sitting on the dining room table.
Oh, good God! MINE! The flare of sensation from his nether regions
practically caused him to fall over.
DOWN BOY! What the FUCK do you think you're doing? Mulder turned his head
from side to side, looking for a way out. Marty was crooning tunelessly now,
and a steadily pulsing excitement was causing his breath to quicken.
Get lost, jerk...minemineminemine... If Mulder had been forced to pick an
adjective right then and there to describe his bloody-minded dick, he'd have
said it was cocky. He ground his teeth together.
"I'm not listening to you." Krycek, lounging at his ease and apparently
unconcerned by his state of undress, fixed Mulder with a sardonic grin.
Unconcerned, Marty kept up his litany.
Needhimneedhimwanthim.... Mulder shivered.
"I thought I'd come and tell you about Skinner anyway, and just went with the
ambience.... " The smoky voice cut through the high pitched whine that Marty
kept up. Mulder stopped still and frowned.
"Ambience?"
"Yeah, the décor. It begs a certain style of dress." Krycek gestured around
the room.
"Or lack thereof," retorted Mulder.
"I mean, the wall-to-wall skin magazines, the videos, the leopard skin
bedspread..." continued Krycek, still grinning.
"What do you want from me?" Mulder was a little flustered. This didn't
happen to him every day, or even every other day.
"Want from you, Mulder," echoed Krycek. "Me? It's more a question of what
you want from me."
Mulder laughed incredulously. "I'm not the one lounging around in your
apartment stark naked."
Krycek spread his legs a little and his grin faded, leaving him looking
sultry as he lounged on the tabletop, pouting.
"Not yet." The words held a menace all of their own.
Mulder bit his lip. Okay what do I do here? he thought to himself as his
brain began to turn to mush. Marty howled.
You mean you don't know? No wonder I haven't been getting any action
lately. Hey, everyone, got a 38 year old virgin here...
Come on...help me out before he starts to think we're complete morons.
Mulder hesitated, and Krycek smiled again, sitting forward and reaching out a
hand towards him.
"Come on, Mulder." Krycek squirmed down from the table and moved forward to
run a finger down his front, ending up over his groin. Mulder recoiled,
shoving him back against the table and dumping him onto his ass for the third
time that evening. This time Krycek didn't just fade back into outer
darkness. He came up off the floor as though he'd been shot from a cannon,
grabbing Mulder in a tackle that bore him across the room until the backs of
his knees caught against the old, black leather couch. The pair of them
sprawled over it, and Mulder swallowed nervously. He was fucked,
figuratively at any rate. Any minute now he'd be fucked in every sense of
the word. There seemed to be no escape.
"I can't do this," he moaned, averting his eyes from the altogether too
predatory stare that was now only inches from his face.
Krycek ground his hips against Mulder's groin, causing the creature that
lurked there to send a shuddering thrill through Mulder.
"You want me," the teasing voice was insistent, and the smile was back as the
ratbastard ground against him again. "I can tell you want me."
"That isn't the point! God, you both have the same one-track mind!" Mulder
pushed his attacker back by the shoulders, trying to put some distance
between his independently thinking organ and the object of its affections.
Sitting back on his haunches, a look of confusion spreading across his face,
Alex looked at a conflicted Mulder who, more than ever, seemed to be losing
his marbles.
"Me both? What are you babbling about? " he exclaimed, irritated that this
seduction was taking a lot more work than he'd thought it would.
Despite his most valiant efforts, somewhere along the line the will to fight
a battle on two fronts abandoned Mulder, and nothing of his resolve remained
in its wake.
"Never mind. I give up." And figuring that if you can't beat 'em, join 'em,
Mulder finally let his dick take the lead. He kissed Alex hard, pressing him
back against the couch and fitting groin to groin. The two of them rolled,
lost their balance and toppled from the slippery black leather.
They landed with a thud on the hardwood floor—Mulder pressing himself
firmly into the body beneath him, and with the passion of a man seeking a
reprieve from the gas chamber, kissed the fantasy in his arms.
A low insistent keening became increasingly obtrusive as the creature
inhabiting his pants began to apply pressure on Mulder.
Ohgodyes! Please... wanna come out... please...
Slow down a bit...I still gotta get used to this whole thing. Mulder's
thought waves seemed to flow through molasses. His body was beginning to
take over, leaving the brain behind, and he knew it. With a last attempt at
normality, he wrenched his mouth away from the man in whose embrace he lay,
and tried to recover his equilibrium.
Krycek was onto him like a pitbull, just as Mulder had known he would be.
"What's the matter, Mulder? Chicken?" The mocking voice and sly wriggle of
hips that pressed so firmly into his sent his libido rocketing. He ran his
hands over Alex's chest, up his neck, and into his hair.
"Just relax, Alex... you'll get what you want." He moved to find the other
man's mouth again, ignoring the hiss of displeasure that Krycek let free.
After searching in vain for a mouth to keep his occupied, Mulder latched onto
the tender flesh of the neck within reach. But before he could really start
to enjoy himself, he felt a push against his chest that sent him reeling back
into the coffee table behind him.
"What I want? You fuckhead!" Alex bellowed.
Mulder heard Alex's voice, but couldn't really make out the words over the
wailing coming from beneath his belt. Noooooo! Please...
He was as flustered as a mother calming her screaming child while trying to
convince a police officer not to give her a speeding ticket. He shook his
head a bit to clear away some of the fog.
"What? What the... You gonna tell me what that was about?"
"You've got your crust!" Alex's voice was sandblasted menace. "You want me
as much as I want you." He moved closer to Mulder, his smile a taunt. "Look
at you, and you can't admit it, can you, even to yourself?"
Mulder reached up and fixed a solid hold on the back of Alex's neck. He
looked him square in the eyes as he said, "I thought when I kissed you that
was exactly what I did!" And without hesitation he pulled Alex's reluctant
mouth in against his own for a kiss that could surely have melted the Polar
Cap.
"Why don't you admit that you want me? Go on...say it." Krycek's voice was
unsteady now, and he spoke around Mulder, who was trying his hardest to keep
their mouths together. He spoke against Alex's lips, unwilling to be
separated from their heat.
"I want you. I want you in my bed. I want you now."
The naked assassin melted into Mulder, leaning against him and sliding his
hand under the silk jacket to encircle his waist and pull him up tight
against himself.
From the depths of Mulder's libido, there rose a fervent prayer in a squeaky
voice.
Oh thank you...there is a Santa Claus!
Mulder, at that particular moment attempting to keep on breathing while
tasting the silken skin of Krycek's torso, was trying to concentrate.
Shut up, you. He tossed the thought at the creature that seemed to be in
charge of his life, then he glued his lips to Krycek's once again. He moaned
as he ran his hands over the firm long back muscles of the man in his arms
and tasted the softness that was his mouth.
"You gonna take off that stupid suit and let me feel you against me, or
what?" The smoky voice insinuated itself into his thoughts as they broke
apart, gasping for breath. He pulled Mulder to his feet, and stood, grabbing
hold of his waist as he moved in again, sleek and predatory.
"You want this suit off? Take it off me. Start with the shoes." Mulder
grinned wildly. If you're going to give up on your moral convictions, you
might as well abandon normalcy and go all the way to deviant. Krycek set to,
his nimble fingers at work unfastening Mulder's belt, but suddenly stopped as
Mulder's words sank in.
"Shoes?" He jerked his head up and his eyes, cloudy with desire, met
Mulder's. "You want to wiggle your obscene toes at me? What are you? A
pervert?" A slow grin lit up Mulder's features as he gazed at Krycek.
"You can hope so."
More kisses followed, moist and thorough, then Krycek fell to his knees,
provoking a clamor from the little creature that had been comparatively
silent for the last few minutes.
Oh, God! Come here, why don't you? Mulder felt the twitch from his
partner in crime and stifled a chuckle.
You'll get him when I tell you that you can have him and not before.
Krycek nuzzled his face into Mulder's groin, surprising a squeak, and then a
long whine from the solid organ that lurked inside his shorts. Payback's a
bitch, buddy.
Krycek had finally started work on Mulder's shoelaces, and at last took off
the shoes, followed swiftly by his socks. He smiled. The impishness of his
smile lit the face that was craning up from Mulder's groin level.
"Go on, wiggle them."
Wantwantwantwant... The whining had begun to gain in volume.
Krycek moved his hands to Mulder's zipper, and started to undo it, his hands
trembling a little. Mulder lifted him to his feet by the simple expedience
of raising his chin.
"Not yet." He grinned and dusted the face with kisses. "Why don't you get
the jacket next."
Hands slid under the jacket, beginning a slow glide over Mulder's back, as
more kisses followed. Krycek's tongue was eel slippery, tasting and probing
everywhere. Mulder permitted it to caress where it liked, storing up the
sensations and becoming more and more aroused. Then the jacket bit the dust
and Krycek laughed.
"What next, O, Salome?" Mulder took Krycek's hand and ran it the length of
his cock, then back up to his tie.
The squeaky whimper that arose made his shoulder's shake. This was the most
fun he'd had in several months.
More. There was a hopeful pause, then, Come on, man. Who said that men
had the brains to be in charge when they insist on putting a noose around
their neck every single fucking day before they go out?
Are you suffering? Mulder's smile was hidden against Krycek's hair. The
double agent had loosened the tie sufficiently to remove the shirt collar
from inside it, and was now slipping the shirt itself down off his shoulders,
following it with his wet mouth as Mulder shivered. Both hands were
imprisoned as Krycek held him captive with his own shirt, and Mulder stood,
drinking in the delicate sensations as Krycek mouthed his nipples through the
fabric of his t-shirt. Good. Now you know what you've been doing to me all
fucking night.
An evil smile wreathed Mulder's face, and it seemed to turn Krycek on.
Krycek groaned, and then kissed that smile, plunging his tongue into Mulder's
mouth and stroking with it as he explored the depths, checked fillings and
verified that he had indeed had a tonsillectomy.
"You must like me dressed. I figured I'd be naked by now." As they broke
apart once more, panting, Mulder's mild voice rose again, teasing. The
response was instantaneous, and slightly unsettling. Krycek ripped the shirt
down over Mulder's wrists, sending buttons flying. He grabbed the front of
the T-shirt beneath and ripped that off too, baring Mulder's chest. Having
exposed his upper body, Krycek yanked him in to hold him hard up against his
own naked chest. Mulder groaned out loud and wrapped his hand around
Krycek's dick, stroking upward gently, using barely a whisper touch.
Krycek was biting his lip now, and he reached down to unzip Mulder's pants.
As he unfastened them, they dropped to the floor, a puddle of charcoal grey
silk. Mulder grabbed Krycek's wrist, all thoughts of teasing fled.
"Bedroom—NOW!" The words were gritted out in a voice that promised total
meltdown within the next minute or so. Releasing the captive wrist, Mulder
exchanged his hold for one on a far more interesting portion of treacherous
anatomy. Krycek smiled as he followed Mulder, who was leading him down the
hall by his dick, and practically running in his haste.
Mulder still wore his boxers and his cock was not happy. It thrust itself
out, arching towards its object of desire as it yearned. Krycek backed onto
the bed and Mulder knelt above him with his cock near the soft, delicious
mouth. Krycek looked up at Mulder with a half smile, sly through his veiling
lashes.
"You want me to get that?"
He extended his tongue and licked the length of the cock inside Mulder's
boxers. Mulder hissed in a breath at the caress.
"You can do whatever you want, until I tell you to stop." He was making a
valiant effort to remain in control, but losing the battle with every passing
second. Krycek licked again, and Mulder moaned. "Oh yeah, you've got a hot
little tongue, ya know that?"
Krycek gave a snort of derision. "Oh yeah? You think that I'm gonna stop
just because you say so? Dream on!"
And from the depths arose the counterpoint as Marty made his opinion known.
You tell him to stop and I kill you, you hear?
Mulder pushed Krycek back with one hand on each shoulder, and then pinned the
rat's good arm with his knee. He smiled down at his naked captive.
"Yes, I do think so. I think that you'll do whatever I want you to do."
Marty howled. You want to die? You really want to die!
Mulder, serene now, reached behind and started to stroke Krycek's cock as he
spoke aloud to both of them.
"I already told you. You aren't calling the shots here."
Krycek smiled again, and licked at the mouth that hovered so close to his,
his voice a whisper, intimate beside skin that thrilled to the feel of his
breath.
"Go on then, do your worst." He relaxed, laying back in an attitude of
surrender. "Tell me when it's my turn."
Their lips met in a kiss that began with a gentle, grazing touch, and then
escalated rapidly into the kind of deep and sensual kiss that can't possibly
be described, but merely imagined. The ambient temperature of the air around
them rose several degrees, and finally they broke apart, panting.
"Answer just one question for me, Alex, how do you want to come?" Krycek's
eyes flew open and he gaped at Mulder, trying to determine whether the man
was fucking with his head. Mulder stroked hard against Alex's cock and Alex
could be seen visibly deciding to take the other man's words at face value.
"You choose, Mulder. I can take it."
Krycek's legs hung over the edge of the bed and Mulder slid down his body,
one sturdy cock brushing hard against the silk that covered the other.
Mulder wriggled off the bed and onto his knees to take Krycek in with one
swallow. Krycek convulsed, and his hand went down to tangle in Mulder's hair
as the G-man began to suck.
"Oh, God, that feels good. Want me to tell you about Skinner yet, Mulder?"
There was no reply other than a redoubling of the delicious suction around
his cock, and thinking suddenly became an advanced skill for the supine
double agent. "Oh...yeah...do that... "
Mulder's throat convulsed around Krycek as his fingers stroked the other's
perineum, and the man on the bed forsook intelligible speech in favor of a
series of moans that demonstrated his level of arousal far better than the
most coherent prose.
"Oh, yeah... Oh... Fox... "
Feeling the approach of his lover's release, Mulder hastily tightened a grip
around the sac at the base of the cock in his mouth, and pulled just hard
enough to stop the impeding orgasm before it started.
"Oy... Mulder, I'm gonna kill you." The threat came through gritted teeth
as Alex fisted the sheets in his hand to keep that same fist from connecting
with Mulder's face.
Touching his hand to the beautiful face below him, Mulder traced the curve of
rigid muscle, tense with need. He allowed his fingers to travel in a fluid
line to the well-defined planes of Alex's chest till he found the ripe pink
nipple that was just waiting to be touched.
"I decided you should come another way." He grinned evilly, and kissed Alex
on the head. Alex Krycek, renowned assassin, whimpered.
"You're gonna die if you don't quit with the tease." The fact that his voice
was somewhere in the upper registers made his protest less of a threat, and
Mulder paused to lick the length of Krycek's dick before replying.
"Whatever happened to anticipation being half the pleasure?" he asked,
rolling Krycek's balls in his hand pensively. Krycek snorted.
"Whatever happened to give and take?"
Mulder laughed out loud. "What is it you want me to take?"
"I want you to take a minute to relax, and come up here. Stop being such a
control freak. I want to taste you." Mulder swiped his tongue across the
head of Krycek's cock one last time before squirming up to kiss him once
again.
The annoying little presence inside of Mulder's pants chose that moment to
announce, in broken tones. You bastard. Want me to go down and never, ever
come up again?
Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen with HIM in our bed. Say please,
nicely, and maybe I'll let you feel his lips around you. The sudden twitch
as his cock pulsed made him grin savagely, and the howl that erupted next was
hardly unexpected.
If you don't let me at him right now, I swear I'll ejaculate prematurely for
the rest of your sick, stupid life.
Kinda kills your fun then too, doesn't it? Mulder was feeling fine, and
Krycek's hands and mouth were beginning to make his own thought processes
turn to syrup. Come on. Say please...
Hey, I ejaculate, I'm happy. Wanna try now? I can do it. At that, Mulder
jerked his hips away from contact with Krycek's body, afraid that his
annoying appendage was going to sabotage his evening. The psychic scream
almost knocked him over. Give him to me, godammit! Please.
Pleasepleaseplease? There was a pause, and then in a little voice, Marty
added, How was that?
Desperate, but desperate is good. Mulder stood up and dropped his boxers
to the floor as Krycek watched, heavy lidded.
I want him now. Oh, god! There he is. Oh, baby. I'm drooling. True to
his word, the penis was leaking pearls of clear fluid that glistened on the
reddened head. Mulder climbed back onto the bed, assuming the same position
he'd been in previously and offered himself to Krycek's mouth. Krycek sighed
and opened pink lips, extending his tongue to run it over the ridge of
Mulder's cock. Mulder's cock sang a hymn of praise.
Oh, Jesus! Thank you, thank you.
Mulder allowed his head to fall back and let out the long breath he'd been
holding. Krycek took his time, slowly licking his way around the
wonder-dick, and then gradually sucking the head into that perfect mouth.
Mulder started to slide himself forward, feeling the alarming build up
towards final completion and beginning to worry.
"Alex, if you don't stop now, it's going to be over way too fast, and I want
to fuck you." He pulled Krycek back by the hair. Krycek was breathing hard,
and his eyes were glazed. He spoke rapidly, his hands urging Mulder back to
his mouth.
"You'll get it up again. I want to taste you."
He wants to taste me! The scream that arose from his penis was almost
enough to rattle the windows. Mulder crouched, his body clenched for a
moment, and then suddenly, enough was enough. He moved forward, and Krycek
swallowed him down.
"Okay, you win." He wasn't sure who he'd addressed, but it didn't matter any
more. It was far too late now to do anything except feel, and react. Mulder
started to fuck Krycek's mouth faster and faster as the sensations he'd been
holding at bay finally took him, flashing like lightning though his body,
igniting his balls and bursting from him as he thrust into the heat of
Krycek's mouth.
Oh...oh.... OHHHHHH YEAH! Marty was crowing. Mulder's voice echoed the
sentiments. Krycek was moaning a little now, sucking hard, and his fingers
slid around to probe Mulder's ass. Krycek sucked for all he was worth,
drinking Mulder down as greedily as if he were starving and Mulder came,
screaming, and collapsed forward onto his hands, crouching on all fours while
he attempted to regain motor control of his body. Krycek squirmed out from
underneath him and moved around to his back.
"For me?" The husky voice sounded amused. "You shouldn't have." He moved,
bending to snake his tongue over Mulder's ass as he lubed up his fingers
using the supplies he'd planted earlier, and began to prepare the hole that
nestled there in the cleft between his ass cheeks.
Mulder had finally rediscovered voluntary movement, and wriggled back in
tacit surrender. "You trying to keep me hard? 'Cause it's working."
"Oh, baby," Krycek's voice was tense. "I've just dreamed of this for so long
I'm getting it all in one."
"So what are you going to do about it?" Mulder's words were teasing, and
Krycek's response was to plunge two slippery fingers inside him and begin to
meddle with his powers of reasoning. "God, yes! That's so good."
Krycek grinned savagely again and grabbed for a condom, rolling it on
hurriedly, then he pushed Mulder down on the bed onto his back and hefted his
legs up over his shoulders. Mulder locked his ankles around the back of
Krycek's neck.
"I'm gonna fuck you, Mulder." Looking into Alex's eyes and seeing the
ferocity of his gaze, Mulder felt himself thrill. Somewhere inside him, what
had once been a spine flowed gently into a puddle and his heart began to
pound like a kettledrum. He took hold of his own cock and shook it roughly.
You hear that? Wake up, dickhead!
Wazzup now? You need sleep, godammit! Mulder shook the reluctant organ
again.
Oh no you don't!! You got me into this...you don't sleep till I do. Get
ready my friend he's about to...
Krycek was moving again, positioning himself against Mulder.
"OH GOD YES!" Krycek's cock sank inside Mulder's body with one thrust.
Mulder howled, and his cock stood up in sheer astonishment.
Fuck! You rang?
"God, Mulder, I've... I've needed this." Krycek was sliding gingerly in and
out of Mulder, finding his rhythm and beginning to accelerate while his
breathing shortened. He uttered a choked little cry each time he pushed in.
"Alex...harder, dammit...baby that's so good." Mulder was holding Krycek's
face, and the rat leaned down to kiss him once again, wet and open-mouthed as
they gasped together. Mulder bucked back for all he was worth, impaling
himself further on the cock that pierced him.
Come on, what are you waiting for? Need a little hand action here.
Someone... anyone? Beulah? Reluctantly, Mulder decided that his penis was
right for once.
"Touch me!" Mulder grabbed at Krycek's hand and he reached to take hold of
little Foxling , working him hard with their joined hands, the movement of
his hips stilling as he fought to maintain his balance..
I believe! I believe! Hallelujah! Marty crooned, as the feelings began
to build again inside Mulder. Oh God, I'm gonna throw up again.
Don't you come yet. You hear me. You'll regret it, I swear! Mulder's
thought was fervent and savage. His cock jumped.
What? What do you think I am? Made of stone?
Wait for him or it's a solitary life for you till the next millenium.
Mulder spoke sharply, as Krycek began to rub his thumb over the head of his
cock. Marty was impressed.
Oh shit, oh shit... oh my god...yes, just there! Do that!
Mulder's hand, still resting on Krycek's, squeezed tight to stop the motion
of Krycek's insidiously moving thumb. Disguising his true intentions, he
managed to sublimate all his need into his eyes. When he looked at Alex, it
was with passion and lust. Alex didn't have a clue.
"God, Alex, I want to feel you come inside me."
Krycek smiled—Marty pouted.
But...but... Splutter. Don't stop.
There are moments when an Oxford educated mind has its advantages—like now.
Inside, Mulder smiled the grin of a little kid who'd just nuked an ant with
a magnifying glass. You couldn't show any self-control. This is what you
get. Besides, if you just wait a minute, we can fuck him, too.
Alex was going wild. Mulder laying there begging to be fucked would make any
human, and quite a number of aliens, cream their shorts. He thrust harder— deeper—into the velvet grip of Mulder's ass, but still all he heard was his
lover's wail of, "HARDER!" To expect him to hold on would be... well,
stupid.
On the next thrust, Mulder clamped himself down on the pulsing flesh inside
him. Grip, release—over and over again until finally it was too much. In
awe, Mulder watched him tense and saw the tendons stand out in his neck as he
bit his lip and began to lose it. Krycek pushed in, screaming, and came
straining to get just a tiny bit deeper into the silken depths of Mulder's
ass. Slowly, chest heaving and shining with the sweat of his efforts, he
subsided, to lie in a limp heap at Mulder's side.
Marty sniffled, his single eye weeping bitter tears. I wanted to come, and
you stopped me. He let out a doleful whine. Just look at me.
Now you get to slide inside of him. Mulder paused to allow that to sink
in. Uh... If you want to, that is?
Supercock, who had drooped just a little, perked up. Sorry, crying a
little. Can you blame me? What was that you just said?
Mulder, who'd been whiling away a minute or two by sucking on Krycek's
nipple, batted briefly at Marty in a 'hey, watch this' kind of fashion. "Not
interested? Let's see if this helps." He squeezed a little of the lube into
Krycek's hand.
"Alex? Put it on me." Krycek moaned gently, but his hand began to slide up
and down Marty's shaft, and the slippery dick began to gurgle in delight.
I take it all back. I'm up to it, if you want. Mulder listened to him
crow, and it suddenly dawned on him why people called them cocks.
"Oh, yeah, like that, baby." He kissed Krycek hard. "Stroke it for me." He
rolled to lie behind Krycek and raised one of the other man's legs, bending
the knee and allowing the foot to fall flat on the bed. Lubing up his
fingers, he started to push one inside Krycek, as Krycek continued to stroke
the lube onto Little Fox. His cock was whimpering now.
Oh, touch. Incoherent gurgles emanated from the happy organ as Krycek
stroked. Mmmmm, like that! Oh yes.
Mulder plastered his mouth to Krycek's and for a few seconds there was
silence, save for the juicy sound of kisses and busy hands. When their lips
parted, Mulder gasped, "That's it, baby. Make him good and hard." He
twisted his hand, adding a second finger to the one searching the interior of
Krycek's ass, finding and stroking his prostate with the pad of his finger.
Oh, baby... Need to... Mulder could tell that Marty was becoming
incoherent all over again and dropped his hand to stay Alex's movement.
Arrgh! The light's a bit strong really. I'm a burrowing animal at heart.
Wait till he asks for it. Trust me.
Krycek chose that moment to push back against Mulder.
"Come on, Mulder, do it to me." He spread his legs wide in mute invitation.
Jackpot! Mulder's triumph was fierce.
Need to hide... Let me in... Go! Go!
It was time. Mulder got up and knelt between Krycek's legs, surveying the
artful tumble of limbs that was his lover. He rolled on a condom and then
hooked his arms under Krycek's knees, pushing forward with his hips until
li'l Fox was right at the opening he craved, there to hover, teasingly.
"Tell me you want it." Mulder wasn't sure who he was addressing this time.
He thought it might just be himself.
If you don't quit with the tease, I'm gonna spit, and them go to sleep out
of sheer spite.
"Come on, Mulder. Need you to fuck me." Krycek was gasping, and his voice
was strained and ragged.
Yeah, come on, Mulder, he needs you to fuck him.
"Who am I to argue?" Mulder sheathed himself in one thrust, and then gasped
at the sudden molten heat that surrounded his uppity appendage.
Come on m... The rest was muted down to a muffled muttering. "Mumble...
mumble... having a ball.
Krycek wrapped long, supple legs around Mulder's waist and Mulder dropped
onto his hands over Krycek, kissing him, lips parted as his tongue probed the
moist folds of Krycek's generous mouth.
He couldn't resist an aside to Marty, You're welcome, as Krycek began to
buck and move in sheer excitement. Now that one of the voices he had to
contend with was happily moaning away, it was time to make sure the other did
the same. He looked down at an Alex lost somewhere on the planet Pleasure as
he guided a crooning Marty in and out of the rabbit hole he'd fallen into.
The two miscreants had tortured him all night. Now it was time to give back
as good as he got. Slowing to an agonizing pace, he gentled his thrusts just
enough to be annoying, and then he waited... but not for long.
Once pliant muscles suddenly tensed around him, as if seeking to grab hold
and not let go. The beautiful, one-armed body writhing beneath him began to
jerk forward, seeking to be pushed back with a greedy force.
"Harder, please, Mulder—HARDER," Alex wailed in desperation.
But how often do you get to watch an assassin beg? Not often enough to allow
the opportunity to pass you by. He began leisurely to draw his
hedonistically minded alter-ego out of Paradise—right out, nearly to the
Pearly Gates.
The first syllables of protest had barely been raised when he slammed his
hips forward, ruthlessly plunging Marty back into the depths of Alex's body.
It was probably the fact that they did it in harmony that made him grin from
ear to ear when he heard two distinct voices scream, "OH FUCK."
"It's amazing how the two of you agree on these things," he gasped out, as he
gazed down on the sweat sheened body of the man in his arms.
Lost in the moment as he was, it took Krycek a second or two to unscramble
that remark, but suddenly his brow furrowed.
"Us two? What?"
It suddenly came home to Mulder that he'd better shut up if he didn't want to
be carted off and incarcerated along with a whole stack of his other X-Files.
"Never mind," he said, hastily.
Mulder accelerated his efforts to drive them both crazy, fucking hard now.
Every move of his hips brought an answering grunt from Alex as he angled his
thrusts upward, aiming and hitting the exact spot with single-minded
accuracy.
"Who...mmmm.... else....oooo...are...ahhhh...you....oh yeaaahh...talking
about?" Alex grunted out.
Mulder barked out a laugh—an incoherent Krycek was truly a delicacy. With
a hungry smile on his face, he reached down between then and wrapped a
callused hand around his lover's engorged shaft.
"You wanna talk, or you wanna come?" he asked as stroked upward.
With not a thought left in his lust-addled brain, Alex simply moaned,
repeatedly, loudly until, with blessed relief, his body went rigid with
release. His back arched upward as his hips pushed forward, seeking to
prolong the bliss as wave after wave of sweet agony racked his body.
Wanting to enjoy the show beneath him, Mulder kept his eyes open for as long
as he could. And an amazing show it was...but eventually, reflex won the
day. His lids drifted shut as he finally gave over control. Let it go,
buddy...you've earned it
It began in the small of his back, the flood of sweet, prickling intensity
that gathered until every limb seemed to spasm. The warm glow seemed to
gather, coalescing, and finally bursting out to bathe him in pleasure as he
felt himself pumping into the satin sheath in which he was encased.
Oh...mygod! the tiny squeaks came in counterpoint to his own groans. Got
me that time... Oh! Ooooooh!
Further squeaks of bliss could be heard, getting fainter and fainter as his
pernickety penis finally gave it all up.
He takes such pride in his job, thought Mulder, fondly.
Then gravity took over, and he collapsed to lie on top of Krycek, holding him
tightly, while his eidetic memory recorded every sensation, every nuance of
the moment, just in case it never happened again.
As the blood began to recede and loosen its strangle hold on mini-Mulder, the
head where his brain currently resided began to register a voice.
What happened? It all went dark for a minute.
Sure that this was going to be it—he was approaching 40 after all—Mulder
assured his more impulsive part, You performed well, my friend. Take a
nap...don't think I'm gonna need you again tonight.
He nuzzled into the crook of the neck beneath him with a contented sigh and
began to nip and lick happily at the salty skin.
Ahem... Excuse me, came the little voice that Mulder was now deliberately
ignoring. EEEHHHEEMMMMM!
All right, all right...stop your whining. What do you want now? Mulder
replied, trying not to get distracted from what he would gladly call dinner,
but who can enjoy even the most gourmet of meals with a pesky, whining voice
in their head?
You gonna leave me in this overcoat? It's all sweaty and wet.
Like the petulant, need-to-have-it-now child that he was, Foxlet piped up
again when Mulder didn't jump.
You want my skin to get all shriveled and prune-like? Still no response.
It's your skin too, you know?
Resisting the urge to swear very fluently, Mulder placed one last kiss
against the soft skin of the other man's blissfully exposed throat and rolled
off Krycek's chest to pull the condom off carefully.
"You can be such a baby sometimes. I give you everything you want and all I
get in return is complaining, not even a thank you."
Krycek stirred, that adorable furrow appearing over his nose as he frowned.
"Hey, Mulder, do you always talk to yourself?" he asked, his voice itself a
caress.
Mulder thought rapidly. What the hell could he say? I talk to my penis— well, yeah, Krycek would probably understand that. My penis answers me?
Nope, I don't think so. That way was purely the fast route to the happy
home, and Mulder liked it right here. He searched his fuzzy brain for a joke.
"They don't call me Spooky for nothing."
Give me a chance. I'll be properly grateful just as soon as I know who I am
again.
Mulder gave a lopsided grin and gathered Alex up to him, squeezing him
tighty. Thinking that misdirection was the key, and that he would happily
misdirect this man as long as he could hold him like this... warm, vital and
satin-soft against his skin.
"You know, Alex, no matter how I touch you, you feel good."
They kissed, warm, open mouthed and leisurely, each exploring the other as
thoroughly as their blissed out state would permit. Mulder racked his brain
in an attempt to recall just why it was that he thought he'd hated this man.
After a while, he drew away to study Krycek's face, losing himself for a
moment in the brilliant eyes of the man. Krycek bore the scrutiny for a
while, and then he grinned.
"Now that you've stolen my innocence, you're gonna have to marry me." Mulder
felt his stomach melt down as he took in the expression of sheer, carefree
happiness on the other's face. He hadn't ever seen that before, but now that
he knew about it, he wanted to see it all the time.
"Only if you wear the gown... I look awful in white," Mulder teased, and
Krycek pulled him down into another kiss as he finished speaking.
"Don't ever stop touching me, Mulder." Krycek's raw voice stroked over his
ears, and for a moment he thought that maybe he could go again, but then he
relaxed. Why ruin this moment of peace? There would be tomorrow. There
would be tomorrow. He was positive of that.
"Shhh... sleep now, Alex. Fuck again in the morning." His voice was a
drowsy mumble, and through the contented haze came a little voice.
More? Marty twitched.
"IN THE MORNING!" yelled Mulder, making Alex, who had been uttering tiny
snoring sounds, jump slightly and open one dazed green eye.
"Hmmmm?" He gazed up at Mulder, awaiting explanation of his new lover's odd
behavior. Mulder mentally chastised himself. He had to stop talking to his
dick. Maybe a muzzle or something? No, that was getting kinky. It was
something he'd have to think about tomorrow. Right now, he was where he
wanted to be, and that was all that mattered.
"It's okay, baby. I think I'm gonna need to start taking vitamins, that's
all. G'night, Alex."
And with that, they slept.
Epilogue:
The room was dark, and the two men slept, tumbled together in careless
abandon. Nothing was visible moving save for the gentle rise and fall of
Krycek's chest. Mulder showed only as a hint of dark hair where the sheet
had not quite obscured him.
There were faint sounds in the silence—breathing and snuffling sounds as,
from time to time, one or other of the lovers stirred. Once, a whisper hung
for an instant, tossed hoarse into the night—the single word, "Yes."
It was a gradual thing, the build up of sound, but after a few minutes it
became apparent that someone, somewhere was crooning softly. Marty, lacking
Mulder to irritate, ignored the sound for a little while. The sound grew in
intensity, and finally Marty couldn't stand it any longer.
Who the hell's making all the noise? he snapped. Mulder was having one of
those dreams and he really wanted to get back into it as soon as he could.
The little voice that answered was tentative and sounded a bit surprised to
be heard and acknowledged.
My name, it said, Is Lexi and you have no idea how long I've been wanting
to meet you, tovarich...
PS, Candace pointed out that Mulder sings a song that people may not remember
well. For those of you (like us) who sometimes need the refresher, here is
the "Meowmix Song"
meow, meow, meow, meow,
Look Who's Talking-69
by Niffusa and Dr. Ruthless
The knock on the door made Assistant Director Skinner sit up and fiddle
nervously with the items on his desk. He was clad as usual in a crisp white
shirt with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. His tie had been
loosened, and his every movement yelled stress to the observing eye.
ahem
meow, meow, meow, meow,
meow, meow, meow, meow,
MEOW, meow, meow, meow,
