by Jennie
He sighed and shifted ever so slightly.
The resulting pain of a jackhammer pounding against the inside of
his skull had him in immediate and full retreat. He was back asleep
in seconds.
Until that nagging sense that he really must get up, once again,
disturbed his slumber. Forewarned, he was not so precipitous this
time around. He started with the small toe on his right foot.
Everything checked out just dandy, so he moved carefully onward.
When he reached his ankle an unexpected sensation slowed him. He
stopped and evaluated. Decided that a strange foot in his bed was
not necessarily a bad thing and bravely resumed his exploration of
the remote possibility of waking up. A bit at a time, he allowed
sensation to return to his shattered and most probably ruined for
life body.
The body next to him snuffled and moved a little closer. The
evidence was becoming incontrovertible; he'd actually gotten lucky
last night. He was doing his best to recall how and when said
luckiness might have happened, when his bedmate slipped one leg to
rest on top of his and an arm wrapped itself around his middle.
Uh oh.
A hairy leg in his bed was just not something a guy could ignore.
Not even under the most extreme of conditions. He frowned as he
struggled to turn and open his eyes.
It was too much, too soon. He sank back down and covered his head
with his pillow, beating the nausea back with sheer determination.
A quiet groan escaped him as the pounding in his head returned with
a vengeance.
His gymnastics seemed to be bringing the unknown person back to
consciousness. A rather vague, "Hmmm?" could be heard coming from
a mouth somewhere in the vicinity of his right ear. A muffled
snort, followed soon by decidedly masculine grumblings would have
had him at least opening his eyes to take a look... if imminent
death-by-headache had not stopped him.
His mystery guest wakened even more, shifting again to rest a very
scratchy chin against his shoulder. What in the hell had he been
drinking last night, anyway?
And, more to the point, with whom had he been doing the drinking?
He'd just decided that he had to know more when... another snuffle,
a groan... and an uncomfortably familiar voice spoke: "What
the..."
He knew what was coming next... been there... would be there again
soon, himself...
A pained moan came from the body next to him as it dropped back into
a prone position. "My god, what the fuck have I done?"
The voice, weak though it was, confirmed Mulder's awful suspicion.
"Krycek," he growled. Well, he tried to growl. He'd forgotten that
he had a damned pillow on his face. He threw it aside and tried
again. "What the hell are you doing in my bed, Krycek?"
The hand on his chest moved carefully, testing the hairy skin and
coming to a stop at his flat nipples. "Ooooh fuck.. Wha... Who
the fuck?"
In spite of the pain that his action would definitely cause—Mulder
absolutely could not miss this—he turned his head a bit and
slitted his eyes open the merest fraction of an inch. His sacrifice
was worth it. Well and indeed worth it, he decided as he watched
Alex Krycek's green eyes widen in horror at finding Mulder waiting
to meet them.
Krycek did what any sensible man would do under the circumstances...
He covered his eyes with his hand and moaned piteously. After a
moment to gather his understandably scattered wits, Alex spoke very
softly, keeping in mind his own and Mulder's currently rather
delicate conditions. "Mulder, what are you doing here?"
"I live here, asshole."
Krycek winced at the sharp answer and tentatively moved away from
the other man. His eyes opened in astonishment when the
unmistakable motions of a waterbed resulted. "You live in a
waterbed?" His eyes finally focused and then, opened even wider.
"With a mirrored canopy?"
"Shut the fuck up, Krycek," Mulder warned, "or I'll have to kill you
and I really don't have the energy for that just now."
Yes, well. Alex considered the alternatives. He could get up...
leave. No, this fucking hangover would probably kill him before he
could get out the front door. Maybe he could get up and move into
the living room. Remembered the severe discomfort Mulder's couch
had caused his back the one time he'd slept on it and discounted
that idea as well. Possibly, he could whack Mulder upside the head
rendering him unconscious... giving himself time to get a little
more sleep.
Finally, deciding that simply doing as Mulder requested might be the
easiest and most painless thing to do, Krycek shut up. He lay
quietly, enjoying the gentle motion of the bed.
Had almost convinced himself that this whole incident was nothing
more than a vodka-induced nightmare, when Mulder spoke. "Krycek?"
"Mmmhmm?"
"Why do I keep thinking that I have get up?"
Searching his memory, Alex found that not only did he have no answer
for Mulder, he had absolutely no recollection of the night before.
None. At. All. "Dunno," he answered shortly.
This was a very bad thing. Assassins and spies and general
all-purpose henchmen such as he should never lose control. Maybe...
"Mulder?"
"What?"
"Nothing."
Mulder sighed and was silent.
Alex couldn't ever remember Mulder being quite so... well, quiet.
Usually the damned man went on and on... and then on some more. He
thought he might possibly learn to like this version of Mulder.
The brief conversation ended by mutual and silent consent. Both men
had reached the limit of their respective strength. Krycek drifted
drowsily, content for the moment to let things rest.
His life was so seldom restful. This was kind of... nice.
Pounding. Somewhere nearby, someone was pounding insistently.
Mulder shifted restlessly, trying to escape the intrusive noise by
burying his head under the comforter.
Ah. Blessed silence.
"Mulder?"
He jerked completely awake at the sound of Skinner's voice. Sat up
in the bed with a pained groan and smacked Krycek's closest
shoulder. "Get up! Krycek, get up... You've got to hide."
"Mmmpmf."
Obviously, the man was not at his best when hung over.
"Agent Mulder?" Heavy male footsteps could be heard... And, they
were headed this way.
Panicked at the thought of Skinner finding out about his current bed
partner's identity, Mulder rudely pulled Krycek's pillow out from
under his head and covered his face with it.
"Wha... Hey!"
"Shut up, idiot," Mulder hissed, shoving the comforter over to hide
the body beside him. "Skinner's here."
"Fuck." The expression was heartfelt if a little muffled.
"Shhh." Mulder watched in dread as the door opened. Skinner
stopped just inside of the room and fixed Mulder with his
Why-Are-You-Keeping-Me-Waiting-You-Asshole expression.
"Good morning, sir," he offered tentatively, having no idea why his
boss was in his apartment on a Sunday morning.
Folding his arms across his massive chest, Skinner glared at Mulder.
What the hell? Mulder frantically searched his admittedly sketchy
memories of the past couple of days but could not think of any
possible reason for AD Skinner to be in his bedroom glaring at him
furiously. He looked at Skinner closely, hoping he'd find a clue.
The older man was dressed casually... jeans, t-shirt, running
shoes. Definitely not dressed for work. That was good. He hoped.
The mattress rolled gently as Krycek moved beside him. A quick
glance down revealed that he'd lifted the pillow and comforter off
of his face. He casually leaned on his right hand, pressing the
bedclothes firmly down again and looked back at Skinner.
Who was studying the lump beside him suspiciously.
Shit.
"Um...what can I do for you this morning, sir?" Distraction was
the key. Carefully, Mulder moved to the bedside and prepared to roll
out of the bed.
"Mulder."
Damn, he hated that forbidding tone Skinner used on him with all
together too much effect. "Yes, sir?"
"Have you decided to kill him after all?" A hint of a smile touched
the corner of Skinner's mouth. "Suffocation is so... tedious,
don't you think?"
The pillow and comforter went flying as Krycek sat up, staring at
Skinner in disbelief. "You knew?" He turned on Mulder accusingly.
"How the fuck did he know I was here?"
"How would I know, asshole?"
The big man appeared to be enjoying the situation entirely too much.
Mulder frowned in response to the grin that was slowly spreading
across Skinner's face.
Mulder looked at Krycek. His face showed a blank confusion that
perfectly matched Mulder's current mindset. "Ah, sir... would you
mind letting us in on the joke?"
Leaning elegantly against the wall, Skinner studied the two men. He
grinned again. An alarmingly evil kind of grin that made Mulder
inwardly swear to himself that he'd never touch liquor again. "I
think you two need coffee." He straightened and headed out of the
bedroom. "You boys make yourselves presentable and I'll go start a
pot brewing."
Mulder sat staring in blank horror at the empty doorway.
"Fuck me!" Krycek muttered as he rolled out of the bed with
surprising grace. The loss of an arm had not affected the man's
innate elegance of movement at all. At least not that Mulder could
detect. He admired Krycek's naked body even as he wondered...
"What the hell did we do last night, Krycek?"
"I don't know, fuckhead. I thought we'd already established that."
Krycek looked around the room with a frown. "Where the hell are my
clothes?"
"Dunno." The sweatshirt Mulder was pulling over his head muffled
the reply. "Living room, maybe?"
"Mulder, I am not gonna walk out there naked." He walked over to
the dresser and started opening drawers randomly. "You'll just have
to lend me something for now." He pulled out a pair of sweats with
a triumphant air and pulled them on. "Shirt?" He asked, looking at
Mulder.
Mulder grabbed a white sweatshirt out of the closet and threw it at
Alex. "Here."
Krycek looked around the room again with a concerned expression.
"Mulder... My arm?"
A shrug. "Probably with your clothes."
"If you've lost my arm, you asshole, I'm gonna have to kill you, you
know."
Skinner stood at the door, listening with a broad grin. "It's out
here, Krycek. In the kitchen."
Spinning to face the door with twin expressions of guilt and dismay,
the two younger men unconsciously moved closer together. Safety
in numbers, eh boys? Skinner gleefully thought. "C'mon...
Coffee... Aspirin... Zantac," he encouraged as he turned back
toward the kitchen.
"You know," Krycek said as he watched the empty doorway
suspiciously, "he's really frightening when he smiles. Does he do
it often?"
"No, thank god," Mulder mumbled as he headed out of the bedroom.
"Come on, Krycek, I'm not going out there alone," he said
impatiently as Krycek showed no sign of movement.
With a put upon sigh, Krycek followed him out to the kitchen. "Do
you remember anything yet?" He whispered to Mulder as they crossed
the living room.
Mulder shook his head. "You?"
"Nada," Krycek answered hopelessly. "I have a really bad feeling
about this, Mulder."
"What's that, Krycek?" Skinner asked jovially as they entered the
kitchen.
A matched set of pained winces made Skinner's grin widen.
"Do you have to keep smiling like that, Skinner?" Krycek asked
sullenly.
Skinner shrugged and smiled some more. "Here you go, Alex," he
said, offering Krycek's prosthetic arm to him.
Mulder grabbed the arm when Krycek made no move to accept it.
"Mulder," Krycek mumbled in a disbelieving tone, "did he just call
me Alex?"
"Well, of course I did. It's your name, isn't it?" Skinner turned
away to pour them each a cup of coffee. "So, what's your poison,
boys? Aspirin? Zantac?" Skinner held up a bottle of each shaking
them so that the pills rattled loudly.
"Arsenic?" Krycek sounded hopeful.
Skinner laughed.
"Ohhhh." Both younger men held their pained heads.
Skinner grinned and handed them their coffees.
"Here you go, you look like you each need both." Skinner held out
two aspirin and a Zantac to each of them.
Krycek just glared. His only hand was already holding a cup of
coffee, which he was seriously considering throwing in Skinner's
face.
Mulder, having had the same impulse himself on more than one
occasion, recognized the danger in the situation and grabbed Krycek
by the arm, guiding him back out to the living room. There they
both collapsed on the couch.
Skinner followed them in and, sitting between them, stretched his
arms along the back of the couch. "So, tell me... how was the rest
of your evening?"
"The rest?" Mulder asked tentatively.
Krycek groaned. "I told you, Mulder."
"Told me what?"
"That I had a bad feeling about this."
Skinner let his arms drape around their shoulders. "Come on, boys,"
he gave each a shake. "After all, it was your idea for me to come
over this morning."
"Oh fuck." Mulder suddenly shared Krycek's bad feeling. He
swallowed heavily. "What did we do?"
"Why," Skinner said, arms tightened around them, "you called me
and asked me to stop by."
"When did we do that, sir."
"Oh, Agent Mulder... Fox, let's don't stand on ceremony. After
all, we're so close. All of my friends call me Walt."
"Oh man," Krycek moaned. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Nonsense, Alex. What you need is some exercise... best thing for
a hangover is to sweat it out."
"Um," Mulder licked his lips nervously, "exactly what kind of
exercise did you have in mind, si—uh... Walt?"
Skinner shook his head. "Not my idea... yours."
"Mine?" Mulder squeaked.
"Well, to be quite honest, it sounded like a joint effort."
"Oh fuck," Krycek cursed in a low voice. "Cut the shit and just
tell us already, Skinner."
"Ah-ah, Alex," Skinner scolded, "just last night it was Walt this
and Walt that."
"No!" Krycek sat up straight and stared at Skinner in amazement.
"Oh, but yes." Skinner nodded gravely. "you both were quite...
entertaining. Particularly, when one considers that you called me
at 2:56am."
"Oooh," Mulder moaned raising both hands to cover his eyes. "We're
dead men, Krycek."
"Jesus christ, Mulder... are you just now figuring that one out?"
"What's wrong, boys? You two were best friends last night. Alex
and Fox. Fox and Alex. And Walt. Don't forget the Walt part of the
conversation."
"We wouldn't dream of it, Walt." Krycek growled.
"Now, now, Alex, let's not get testy."
"Please, sir," Mulder begged, "just shoot us now. Why prolong the
agony?"
Skinner grinned at each in turn. "I have something here that I
think you'll both enjoy." He reached into his pocket and extracted
an audiotape. The little kind... the kind people use in their
answering machines. "Here, Fox, put this on, would you?"
"I'll do it!" Krycek made a quick grab for the tape, but Skinner
held it out of his reach with one hand while clamping the other
firmly around his neck to hold him in place.
"Sorry, Alex. Its not that I don't trust you... It's just that...
I don't trust you."
"You," Skinner said, turning to Mulder and handing him the tape,
"have to come to work tomorrow, so I trust you a little more."
Mulder took the tape and crossed to the machine. He turned and
looked back at Skinner measuringly.
Krycek narrowed his eyes. "Don't you even think about it Mulder.
If you run out and leave me alone with him I'll..." Apparently,
Krycek couldn't think of a threat dastardly enough for the occasion.
"Don't worry, Alex. He's not going anywhere." Skinner turned a
LOOK on Mulder. "Are you, Fox?"
Knowing when he was beaten, Mulder just shrugged, stuck the tape in
the answering machine and returned to the sofa. Before he could
sit, however, the tape started playing. What he heard made him
stand up straight, stiff with shock.
"Ooooh Waal-terrrr," came the unmistakable sound of Mulder's voice
in a fascinating monotonic singsong.
Then, Krycek spoke up, "We knooooow you're home, Waaal-terrr."
And, apparently this had been so amusing that both of them had then
spent several moments giggling and snorting and wheezing.
The next sounds were truly frightening... "Puuuleeeeze pick up the
phone, Waaaalt."
That was, apparently, the joint effort part of the call.
Mulder sank down to sit on the edge of the sofa. Skinner reached
out and wrapped him in one big arm and pulled him in close.
A faint moan came from Krycek when the next voice heard was one
Walter Skinner... very angry AD. "What the fuck is going on,
Mulder?"
Mulder had thought this quite funny and had gone off into paroxysms
of hysterical laughter.
"Gimme the phone, Fox."
Oh fuck. Krycek sank down on the sofa.
"Oh, Waalterr, Alex here. Fox and I would like to issue an
invitation."
"Alex? Alex... Krycek?" Skinner's tone was clearly stunned.
'Well, of course. I told you that already." Krycek sounded almost
hurt. "This is Alex."
"What the hell is going on? Where's Agent Mulder? What have you
done to him, Krycek?"
Crash "Fox. Hey, Fox." Boom "Hey, Fox, Walt wants to talk to
you." Crash
"Walt, Alex here again. I'm afraid Fox can't get to the phone right
now. He fell down." Krycek reported in a serious tone.
"He what?" Skinner had clearly been unable to decide if the
situation called for incredulity, suspicion or horror and managed a
credible combination of all three. "What is going on, Krycek?
Where are you two?"
"We're at Fox's, of course. Can't go to my place," Alex lowered
his tone to speak confidentially. "I'm a spy, you know."
This time it was Krycek who fell down laughing. This was
incontrovertible, as Krycek immediately reported the incident.
"Sorry Walt... I fell. But I'm okay."
"I can't tell you how much better I feel now that you've told me
that, Krycek."
"Waalt, why do you keep calling me that? I keep telling you, this
is Alex."
It was at this point in the conversation that Skinner, apparently,
caught on to the situation. "Riiight, Alex. Let me talk to Fox
now, would you please?"
"Um sure, Walt... but, can I ask you something first, please?"
"Of course you can, Alex."
"Well, you see... this is a little embarrassing—" Fumble...
Crash "Sorry, Walt, dropped the phone. But, it's okay. Anyway...
the thing is... I've lost my arm."
Skinner had apparently choked at this point.
"Ooh Fuck!" Krycek sank even lower on the couch.
Skinner smiled. "Just wait, boys. We haven't even gotten to the
good parts yet."
Mulder moaned as he slumped to a posture, which mirrored that of
Krycek.
"So, anyway, do you think you could come over and help us to find
it?"
"You called me to ask if I would come to Mulder's apartment and help
you, Alex Krycek, to find your arm?"
"Well, of course. Fox said that if anyone could find it, you
could."
"Oh he did? May I speak with Fox now?"
"Well, I think he might be asleep now. He does that when he's
drunk, you know." Alex confided.
"Does he?" Skinner asked in a surprisingly mild tone. "No, Alex, I
was not aware of that. Go over there and WAKE HIM UP."
Crash
"Sorry, Walt... I—"
"Dropped the phone... I know."
Both Mulder and Krycek tried to slide even further down, but Skinner
was having none of that. "Sit up, boys. The really interesting
part is coming up right now..." He grabbed each by the scruff of
his neck and pulled them both to upright positions.
"Alex... Alex, I wanna talk to Walter now."
"Oh... Fox just woke up Walt... Would you like to speak with him?"
"Yes, Alex. I would like that very much."
"All right, then. Are you gonna come over an' help me?"
"Yes, Alex. Of course I will. But first, I need to talk to Fox for
just a minute... Okay?"
"Ooooh." This request was apparently a revelation to Alex. "Hey,
Fox... Walt wants to talk to you. An, he says he'll come over an'
help find my arm!"
"I told you he would." Mulder sounded amazed that Krycek had ever
doubted his word. "Lemme talk to him for a minute."
"Oh, Walt, Fox would like to speak with you... Is that okay?"
"Yes, Alex, that will be just fine."
"Well... all right then. When will you be here?"
"Aaaleexxx. I said I wanna talk now."
Fumble... Crash... Bang... Scuffle
"Helllooo, is this Walt?"
"Yes indeed, Fox, this is Walt."
Mulder winced and tried to return to his slumped posture. One firm
squeeze from Skinner's hand, which was still on the back of his
neck, stopped the effort with no effort at all.
"Lissen, Walt... the thing is that my pal Alex lost his... um..."
"His arm, Agent Mulder. Krycek has lost his fucking arm."
"Well yeah, I know that, Walt. Happened in Russia, you know."
A heavy sigh could be clearly heard... Mulder and Krycek both felt
pretty safe in assuming that the sound had issued from Skinner...
Walt.
"Yes, Mulder—"
"Fox. F-O-X. 'S my name, you know."
"Fox... I'll be right there."
"Hey Alex. Walt is comin' over."
"He is?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"I dunno. Just a minnit an' I'll ask him."
"Why are you comin' over, Walt?"
"To find Alex's arm, Fox."
"I just told you... it's in Russia."
Fumble
"Hey, Alex, Walt thinks he knows where we can find your arm."
"Did you tell him that I lost my arm?"
"Nope. I wouldn't do that, Alex. You said it was a secret."
"Hello, Walt?"
"Yes, Fox?"
"Um... it's a secret... that arm thing? Shhh. 'S a secret."
"Ah. Of course. Well then, Fox. Why did you call me tonight?"
"Ooooh, that. Well, you see... the thing is... My buddy Alex an'
me... We were talkin' earlier... an' we wanted to ask you a
question. Would that be okay?"
"Sure, Fox. Ask away."
"Well, we were just wonderin'... "
Fumble... Crash
"Hey, Alex... what did we wanna ask Walt again?"
"About sex."
"Oh yeah... hey Walt?"
"Yes?" Skinner was starting to sound a little bit tense again.
"Um... have you ever... um... had sex?"
"What?" Bemusement warred with amusement for dominance. Amusement
won the day. "Yes," chuckle, "I have on one or two occasions had
sex, Fox."
"You have?" Mulder was clearly quite amazed by this. "Really?"
"Yes, Fox. Really."
"Hey Alex... he said yes."
"He did?"
"Here—"
Fumble
"Hellooo, Walt?"
"Yes, Alex?"
"Did you really say yes?"
"Yes, I did, Alex."
"Wow! So, when will you be here?"
"What?"
"When will you be here?"
"But, I thought that you didn't want me to come over."
"Well, really," Giggle "How can we have sex if you're not here?"
Fumble
"Hellooo?"
"Yes, Alex?"
"Did you drop the phone, Walt?"
"Yes, Alex, I did."
"Oh. Well... is it okay?"
"Is what okay?"
Giggle "The phone, of course."
"Yes, Alex, the phone is fine."
"Oh. Well that's alright, then."
"So, tell me, Alex... exactly why is it that you and Fox need me
there to have sex?"
"What?"
"I said... never mind. Why did you two call me?"
"So we could have sex."
"Ummhmm. And you need me there because..."
"So we can have sex with you. Aren't you paying any attention to
us, Walt?"
"Trust me, Alex, you have my undivided attention right now."
"Oh. Good. So, when will you be here?"
"I'm on my way."
Click... Dialtone
As silence once more fell in number forty-two, Mulder studied the
coffee table as if he'd never seen such a thing while Krycek just
closed his eyes.
"So, tell me, boys," Skinner sounded positively jovial, "how ever
did you two come to the decision to call me and invite me over here
to have sex with you?"
"We don't know, sir."
"Oh now, I thought we were all such good friends here, Fox. Please,
call me Walt when you explain this to me. I would really take it
amiss if you were to stand on formality at such a time as this."
Silence
"I see. Well, in that case... Let me tell you what happened when I
arrived here, at 4:15 am."
"Oh my fucking god." Krycek eyes were glazed with horror. "You
didn't."
"Alex, Alex, Alex..." Skinner sighed and shook his head
mournfully. "How could you doubt me? I am hurt."
"Oh, fuck you, Skinner."
"Well, no. Actually it more along the lines of 'fuck me, Walt'"
Skinner frowned. "No, wait. I remember now, it was 'please fuck
me, Walt'"
Mulder snickered.
"Oh, Fox, I don't think you should be laughing... You were the one
who decided that tackling me would be the best way to get my clothes
off."
This time it was Krycek who snickered.
"Jesus, fuck," Mulder moaned. "My god, Krycek, we are so fucking
dead it isn't even remotely fucking funny."
Skinner sat in silence and just waited. One of them should crack
any second now.
3... 2... 1... ah... liftoff. Skinner grinned.
"Ah, you didn't... um..."
Skinner turned to meet Mulder's miserable stare with an expression
of mild inquiry.
"Oh hell," Krycek fumed. "Just tell us. Or kill us. Do
something for fuckssake."
The same expression was turned on Krycek.
"He's gonna kill us." Mulder moaned.
Krycek, who was staring directly into Skinner's eyes, suddenly
caught his breath at what he was seeing. "We couldn't have." He
sputtered, after a moment. "We were too drunk. It's not poss...ib...le. Is it?"
"What?" Mulder sat up in sudden interest. "What, Krycek? What is
it?"
"Look at him." Krycek told Mulder. "Get over here and look at
him."
As it turned out, that did not prove to be necessary. Skinner sat
back on the sofa, arms once again stretched out along the back, and
smiled, as both Fox and Alex turned to stare at him in stunned
disbelief. Ever so slowly, their heads swiveled and they traded a
befuddled look.
Mulder shook his head. "It's not possible. I don't bel—"
Skinner raised his brows. "But Fox, I thought you wanted to
believe."
Mulder's mouth dropped open and he tried to back away. He landed on
his ass in front of the couch and scooted away with admirable
alacrity.
Krycek gave the situation serious thought and decided to stay where
he was and see what happened. He turned a little further so he
could look at Skinner more closely. When Skinner reached up to
remove his glasses, Krycek's eyes widened. He wasn't aware that his
hand was moving until he saw it out of the corner of his eye.
Quickly closing it into a fist, Krycek tried to pull his handback,
but Skinner grabbed it in one of his own and raised it to his face.
Carefully, he opened the fingers, bringing them to rest on his
cheek. Alex's mouth opened just enough to allow his tongue to reach
out and wet his suddenly parched lips.
"Alex?" Mulder whispered.
Skinner held out his other hand. "Get over here, Fox."
Mulder got back to the couch even faster than he'd retreated from it
only seconds earlier. He knelt between Skinner's feet and rested
his hands on those hard thighs he'd been secretly staring at for the
past eighty-nine years. Or, was that a hundred and eighty-nine
years? Mulder couldn't remember... he just knew that he'd been
drooling over this man's body for an eternity.
Skinner met Mulder's fascinated stare for a beat, then turned back
to Alex. He raised one hand to rest gently on the back on Alex's
neck and pulled him forward into a kiss.
Mulder hissed his surprise and moved a little closer, letting his
hands skim lightly up the outside of Skinner's thighs. He watched,
in fascination and growing arousal, as Skinner and Krycek's kiss
became increasingly erotic. Their mouths were open wide to each
other and Mulder could see the hollowing of Alex's cheeks as he
sucked on Skinner's tongue. Mulder moaned and moved even closer, as
one of his hands came to rest at the juncture of the big man's hip
and thigh. Without opening his eyes or breaking his kiss with Alex,
Skinner reached down, picked up Mulder's hand and laid it right on
top of his rather impressive erection. Then his hand moved up
Mulder's arm and came to rest on one shoulder, pulling Mulder
forward until, the younger man's face was pressed into his crotch.
Mulder inhaled deeply and moaned.
The sound broke Krycek's concentration and he pulled back, to stare
in amazement as Mulder opened his mouth over Skinner's erection and
started to suck at the cloth dampening it noticeably.
Krycek moaned this time.
Skinner smiled and stirred. "Shall we take this party into the
bedroom, boys?"
"Sure." Mulder agreed, lifting his head.
Krycek was already on his feet, waiting impatiently. He reached
down to pull Mulder to his feet and they each offered Skinner a hand
and hauled the larger man up to stand between them. The three
entered the bedroom, where Krycek paused, suddenly uncertain.
"Um, guys?"
Mulder turned to look at him. "What's wrong, Alex?"
"I... I don't... I mean..." Helplessly he shrugged, at a loss.
"I haven't done this before... I mean... not with two... and I..."
Skinner put an arm around him. "Don't worry about it, Alex." He
grinned. "Neither have I."
"What?" They spoke at the same time. "But... you... he..."
Skinner shook his head at them. "You mean last night? You were too
drunk. I got here, put you to bed, and had to promise I'd be back
this morning before you would let me go, Alex. You," he looked at
Mulder, "passed out right after you tackled me."
"But, you said—" Mulder started to say when Krycek started
laughing.
"Think about it, Fox. He never actually said one way or the
other. He let us draw our own conclusions."
Skinner chuckled. "You two are too gullible for your own goods."
"Gullible?" They were speaking in concert again. "Gullible?"
"Yes, gullible. Both of you." Skinner was smiling widely in open
amusement. He pulled off his clothing as they watched in awe, and
then climbed into the bed. "Now, are you coming to bed or not?"
They might be gullible, but neither was stupid.
They joined Skinner on the bed only seconds later.
The Morning After the Night Before
deeply buried protective instinct warned him that even his
normally slow pattern of awakening would do serious damage on this
particular morning. For reasons he couldn't quite grasp at the
moment, simply continuing to sleep was not an option. He drowsily
pondered the problem. A gentle wave of nausea cautioned against
even the most vague of thoughts.
