As Alex stood looking up at the battered shutters and crumbling paint, he
expected — even anticipated — the arrival of a slew of FBI Special Agents in
Kevlar, brandishing assault rifles. They never arrived. Minutes passed before he
could make himself take another step toward the door. Was Mulder standing on
the other side of it holding his SIG at the ready? He'd returned from his
abduction different. He'd resigned from the FBI, sold his parents' homes and moved
to Maine. There was a Stephen King joke in there somewhere, but Alex was
damned if he could find it. This morning he'd received a cryptic, enticing E-mail.
How Mulder managed to get Alex's address was a mystery — well, maybe not
that big of a mystery. His pet hackers probably had something to do with that.
The real mysteries were why. Why Mulder wanted to see Alex and why he'd come out
in the middle of nowhere to find out.
Finding the door slightly ajar, Alex pushed it the rest of the way open with
his prosthesis. His flesh and blood hand fluttered to his Glock, holstered at
his back. It was habit; he knew he'd never actually shoot his former partner.
It was just comforting to know he had the option.
His eyes didn't need time to adjust; it was just as dim inside as it was
under the moonless sky. His mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of
Mulder. If his plan had been to take Alex by surprise, the attempt had been more
than successful. Mulder stood on the hardwood floor in the glow of the fire lit
room, his naked skin gleaming in the orange light.
"Do I have to come and get you?" Mulder growled.
Alex came to rest in front of Mulder in a half dozen long steps. Taking him
by the back of the neck, Alex hauled Mulder forward and fed hungrily on his
mouth, grinding their crotches together.
"I think you have this backwards," Mulder said, pulling his mouth away.
"Fine," Alex said.
Mulder took hold of Alex's artificial wrist and tugged him toward the fire
and the nest of blankets there.
Alex put his gloved right hand in his mouth and worked at the worn leather.
He smiled around his fingers as he watched Mulder's dazed expression. Alex lost
a bit of his grace as he worked himself out of his jacket.
"I wanna do that," Mulder said as Alex began to wrestle himself out of his
sweater.
"I'm not helpless."
"Alex," Mulder whispered against Krycek's ear, "you let me the last time."
He was surprised that Mulder would bring up the night of his abduction so ca
sually. When he'd driven to Mulder's apartment to try to convince him not to
take Skinner to Oregon, he hadn't expected a return trip to Mulder's bed to be
the fringe benefit.
"I can't wait to taste you," Mulder said, dropping to his knees.
"I thought you wanted me out of my clothes."
"Appetizer before the entree," Mulder said, turning his attention back to the
button fly.
"And I thought you were a dessert-first kind of guy," Alex rasped as his cock
was sucked into Mulder's mouth. Head tilted back, Alex tangled his fingers in
the hair at Mulder's nape.
Mulder freed his hair as he continued to suck. It wasn't long before Alex
came down Mulder's throat. Sitting back on his heels, Mulder smiled in
self-satisfaction, as he licked his full lips.
Alex pulled his pants up and lowered himself to the floor. "Fuck me," he
panted as he crawled closer to his target.
"Lie back," Mulder said, planting his hand on Alex's chest.
Alex capitulated and sunk down into the pile of feather pillows.
Mulder started to untie Alex's boots and realized it wasn't necessary; they
were strung with elastic laces. Mulder looked up and nodded his approval as he
pulled them off and lobbed them across the room. They were soon followed by
socks, boxers and jeans. He placed the belt and holster with the Glock still
inside over a nearby chair.
Alex was about to roll over but was arrested when the front of his sweater
was caught by Mulder's hand.
"I seem to remember someone liked having his nipples licked," Mulder
bantered. "Can't do that with you still half dressed."
"Mulder ..."
"I'm going to make you feel so good," he said, using leverage to bring Alex
upright.
He closed his eyes, resigned to Mulder getting his way. Alex sat like a
statue as he was divested of his wool sweater and long sleeved Henley. He
intervened when Mulder started to pull off the undershirt. "That's enough," Alex
rebuffed.
"For once, can't things between us be simple?" Mulder asked rubbing patterns
on Alex's back.
Alex breathed out in a huff as he wrestled out of his white V-neck. He
watched as Mulder produced a tube of K-Y and a condom from under one of the pillows.
"You were so sure I'd show."
"I didn't spend all that time in the BSU for nothing," Mulder said kneeling
between Alex's open thighs. He ran copious amounts of lube over his index and
middle fingers.
"You profiled me?"
"Can we focus for a minute?" Mulder asked, teasing Alex's anus.
Alex let out a low appreciative moan as Mulder, using light pressure and a
little persistence, managed to gently work his fingers in past the second
knuckle. Adjusting his hand to get a better angle, he slowly stroked Alex's
prostate.
"Sometime this week," Alex whined.
Mulder eased out his fingers. He then rolled the condom down his cock and
slicked it up with lube. Alex was keening by the time Mulder had buried himself
in his lover's body. "Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine, if you'll just fuck me," Alex said through gritted teeth.
"Alex, if I'm hurting you ..."
"Jesus, Mulder, it doesn't hurt. Will you just move?"
Mulder leaned forward and ran his tongue over each of Alex's hard nipples.
"You're incorrigible," Alex accused.
"So I've been told," Mulder replied, between licks.
"That wasn't a compliment."
Mulder pulled almost all the way out of Alex's tight body and inched back in.
"This what you want?"
"Harder," Alex ordered.
"Can you come like this?" Mulder asked, setting the rhythm Alex had demanded.
"Doesn't matter," Alex gasped.
"I want this to be good for you too. If you'll give me my hand back ..."
Alex shook his head against the pillow and tightened his grip on their laced
fingers. "Statistically, simultaneous orgasms ..."
"You must have worn a pocket protector in High School."
"You might want to revisit that profile. Hockey mask, I lettered all four
years."
"Those two things aren't mutually exclusive," Mulder mocked, just before he
climaxed. He slumped over, resting his head against Alex's neck.
Alex grimaced as he started to lower his legs.
"Sorry," Mulder said, holding the top of the condom as he eased himself out
of Alex.
Sitting up, Alex went about removing his prosthesis. When he was done, he
allowed himself to be pulled down against Mulder's chest.
Bright light poured in through the large bay window, causing Alex to squint
as soon as he opened his eyes. Putting his wrist close to his face, he realized
he'd slept close to twelve hours straight — something he hadn't done since
long before he'd met Fox Mulder. He collected his belongings and then went
searching for the bathroom. He took a piss and then dressed in the same clothes as
the night before, leaving off the prosthesis. He was surprised that Mulder
hadn't materialized. Returning to the large bay window, he could see Mulder off
in the distance, wandering along the rocky beach. Alex turned away and walked
out the front door. When he reached his car, he found a note under the
windshield wiper. It said, in Mulder's loose, lazy script. "You know where to find
me."
Alex was separated from his memories by a sharp knock.
"You don't need your gun, it's just me," Mulder called from the other side of
the door.
"What do you want?" Alex asked, pressing his hand to the hard wood that stood
between them.
"I took your advice."
"Advice?"
"You told me to revisit my profile," Mulder said.
Alex swung open the door and stared into Mulder's eyes.
"You're never going to quit, Alex; you're going to fight them until they're
gone or die trying."
"I thought you were done fighting, Mulder."
"So did I."
Rise
by Siberian Skys
Alex lay sprawled on his back, his one good arm thrown over his face to block
out the neon signs outside his window. Inebriated voices wafted up as
stragglers staggered out of Devoss's after last call. He usually slept better in the
city, the sounds reminding him of his early years living with his mother in
the small room over his grandfather's bar. Tonight, he missed the quiet of the
Maine coast. He ached for Mulder's mouth, for Mulder's touch. Alex found it
inconceivable that only four nights had passed since he stood on the porch of
what Mulder referred to as Fox's Refuge for Wayward Spooks. That night played
repeatedly in his head like it was on a constant loop.
