Alive For Evermore

Fandom: The X-Files

Category/Rated: NC17

Year/Length: 2002/~6760 words

Pairing: Mulder/Krycek

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, only having fun.

Author's Notes: Written for dossier.

Well, I did it. It was not easy by any stretch of the imagination, but I managed to pull it off.

He's alive.

And, most important of all, he's still Mulder.

Well worth the renewal of hatred for yours truly that will undoubtedly result. Oh yeah... once Scully and Skinner tell him their stories, he will once again move me to the top of his list.

Hell, who am I kidding? I've been number one on that list for so long that I've become rather fond of the position. There are worse things in life than being Fox Mulder's nemesis.

Trust me - I've given it a lot of consideration, and finally admitted to myself that being Mulder's obsession is what I live for. Never mind that all he wants is to see me in prison ... or dead - he *thinks* about me. I am part of his life. For good or evil, that's the way it is and I like it.

Sick, huh?

I was there when Scully brought him home from the hospital. Across the street, in an alley, behind a dumpster - but there. I saw him climb from the car and walk into Hegal Place under his own steam. Oh, he walked slowly, painfully - but he *walked*.

I'd told myself that was all I needed - to see him. A major infusion of alcohol - not to mention the sodden logic in my Stoli-soaked brain - was making a personal visit seem *just* the thing right now. Just as soon as the red-headed witch took herself off, I would head up to his place and talk to him.

Well, okay. I'd go up, let him pound on me for a bit, *then* talk to him.

Finally, ole needle-nose made her exit. I staggered across the street and entered his building.

Not allowing myself to actually think about what I was doing, I raised my hand and knocked on his door. Heard him move to answer and almost ran as the doorknob turned.

And there he was. Pale, scarred, new and horrifying shadows in his hazel eyes, but there. Right in front of me. I swallowed heavily and stared.

He looked at me in silence for a moment, then gave a sort of resigned nod. "Krycek," he said in a curiously unsurprised tone of voice.

I couldn't manage any words. He looked like so much shit. In fact, he looked like he was the one enjoying a bender, not I. I blinked, then gave him my best smile. "Mulder, old buddy! How the hell are you holding up?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, then widened as my slurred words registered. "You drunk, Krycek?"

"You betcha!"

He sighed. "Why are you here?"

"Wellll... I wanted to check up on you, of course. Was worried about you, old buddy, old pal."

Shaking his head, Mulder stepped back and opened the door further. "Might as well come in, Krycek. I really don't want my neighbors to find you passed out drunk in the hall."

The entryway was everything I remembered -- dust bunnies, shoes lying all over the place, and the smell of loneliness. Ah, Mulder. How comforting you are, I thought, you never change. Aloud, I said, "Think this is drunk? You shoulda seen the other guy."

The words slipped glibly from my tongue, but as I finished speaking, I frowned, unsure of what I'd said. Ahead of me, Mulder was leading the way through the dingy hall and into the tacky living room that I recalled with such clarity.

"Take a load off, Krycek," said Mulder, the flat voice conveying disdain as he flung himself back to sprawl on the sagging black sofa that dominated the room. "I can't wait to hear why you're here this time."

Moving into the center of the room, a slight stagger betraying my state of inebriation, I fixed Mulder my best arrogant stare.

"I came to make sure that you were all right. Didn't want to see all my efforts go to waste, did I?" Sitting down abruptly on the very edge of the chair, I glared at Mulder as if challenging him to argue.

"So, my miraculous recovery is due to you?" He frowned in thought, then stared at me suspiciously with all four eyes.

I smirked. "You always were too smart for your own good, Foxy." I squinted at him, decided that the Mulder on the left was the real one, then concentrated on his disconcertingly wavery form. "Stop weaving back and forth like that!" I grumped at him. "You're making me seasick."

"You really *are* wasted, aren't you? And, Al - er, Krycek, do not call me 'Foxy'!"

Waving one hand in the air dismissively, I snorted. "Yes, I'm wasted. And, I like that name." I nodded emphatically, almost throwing myself off balance. "Foxy... Yeah, it fits you."

Rolling his eyes at me, he just shook his head and shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. Now, tell me the *real* reason you're here."

"Toldja. Wanted to see for myself that you were okay. And," I added with sudden inspiration, "since you appear to be recovering nicely, I think we should share a celebratory drink."

I staggered into the kitchen and started rummaging through his cabinets.

"What the fuck are you up to now, Krycek?"

"Looking for booze. You *do* have some kind of alcohol stashed in here, don't you?"

Heavy sigh. "Krycek..."

Ah ha. Locating a dusty bottle of scotch, I grabbed it and two glasses before heading back into the living room. After placing my finds on the coffee table, I sat heavily on the couch.

"Don't you think you've had enough, Krycek?"

I gave him my best hurt look. "Krycek, Krycek, Krycek! You almost called me Alex a minute ago. Couldn't you, just this once, use my first name?"

"Fine, *Alex*. But, I really do think you've had more than enough alcohol tonight."

"Bullshit! Wanna share one with m'good bud. Celebrate. Loosen you up a little - you're awfully tense, Foxy. Let Dr. Alex help you out here."

"I am *not* tense." He rose to his feet and stood in front of me, vibrating like a leaf in his outrage, and I laughed sloppily.

"Oh, noooo. Sure you're not tense - and I'm not pissed as a newt." I laughed - a sneer that was calculated to annoy him, and raised my fingers to fondle the sore spot on my lower lip that was a testament to John Doggett's tender mercies a day before.

"All right, *Alex,*" Mulder bowed ironically towards me in acknowledgement of my name, and I felt a queer little frisson shake me, a thrill that had nothing to do with his use of my first name. "Suppose you tell me exactly why you're here, before I take that bottle and insert it somewhere uncomfortable?"

"Oh, now, is that nice?" I slurred, shaking my head once before swiftly deciding against it as the room swam around me in an unreal way. "I jusht... I just wanted to make sure that you were my Mulder, and now you're being mean to me." Suddenly, everything seemed tragic. I'd saved Mulder's life. I'd given him the last precious drops of my vaccine, and now he was going to beat me up.

I knew he was going to beat me up; he always did.

"Well, now you've seen. Don't let the door hit you on the way out, will you?" He turned and pointed to the aforementioned door, even though I knew that he couldn't possibly let me go without punching me at least once.

"You wan' me to leave, even though I saved your life?" I said in a whisper. "You really are a bastard."

The change on his face was astonishing. From cold, set fury it had suddenly become fascinated. "What do you mean, *Alex*?" he whispered, his voice a thread. "Talk: go on."

"Talk... Oookay. I saved you - gave you the vaccine. You didn't *really* think that a course of antibitot... antibioters - um, Scully's meds cured you. Did you???? Dammit, Mulder, you're not that stupid!"

"And you decided to do this why? Through the goodness of your heart?"

Fuck it. No way in hell would he ever understand my motivations. Best depart the scene before I gave away far more that would be good for me. Even in my inebriated state, I knew I'd regret giving him any more ammunition against me come sobriety.

"Believe what you will, Mulder." I rose unsteadily to my feet. "'M leaving now. *So* sorry to have inflicted my odious self on you tonight. Won't happen again."

Gathering the shreds of my dignity around me, I turned and started for the door.

"Wait," he protested in a low voice. "Just... just hold on a minute, Kry - Alex."

"Why? So you can administer the ritual beating?" I sighed and stopped. "If it'll make you feel better, go ahead." I turned and faced him again. "Go on, Mulder, I can take it."

"Cut the martyr crap. I... I must admit that I'm curious, Alex. This," he waved his hand at me, "isn't like you. I really would like to learn what's going through your mind. Have you tell me why you saved me. Why you wanted to check up on me. Why you came here in this condition. I've never seen you let down those walls of yours. Maybe this is the night you'll finally explain yourself to me."

He was right. In my current state, I had no defenses against him - against my feelings for him. And, suddenly I found myself actually wanting to tell him all. Well, mostly all - I wasn't *that* far gone yet. Reluctantly, I trudged back across the room and joined him on the sofa.

Surprisingly, there was no annoying triumph on his face. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Thanks? *Thanks*?

Well, fuck *me*.

He leaned forward and filled our glasses with a healthy amount of scotch. Handed mine over and sat back, draining his glass in short order. Poured himself another and tossed that one back in one gulp.

"Um... Dontcha think you should take it easy? I mean, you're still recovering."

"No," he answered soberly. "Somehow, I think I'll need a good dose of alcohol to deal with the answers you're about to hit me with."

Smart man, that Mulder.

Couldn't allow him to drink alone. Nope, that would be downright rude. So, I threw back my own drink and made a move to refill my glass. Before I could get a hold of the bottle, he batted my hand away. "Let me."

This time, his tumbler held a noticeably larger shot than mine. I looked askance at his glass. "Got some catching up to do, Alex."

I frowned. "But, Mulder... your tolerance is somewhat diminished. You get soused and fall on your nose and I will have to face the wrath of Scully." I couldn't help but shudder at the prospect.

"Let me worry about her, k?"

"Fine." I answered with a shrug. I'd be looong gone by the time she found out that he'd gotten drunk. 'Sides, there was no way he'd ever admit to her that he'd been drinking with Alex-Ratbastard-Krycek.

We shared the scotch in amiable silence for some time before he turned and fixed me with an inquisitively demanding look. "So, Alex... tell me *why* you saved me."

Shit.

Shitshitshit!

Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, I sighed heavily. "Mulder, I-"

"What happened to 'Foxy', Alex?"

Definite flirty tone, there. Bastard had managed to turn the tables on me quite neatly.

"I'm not going to rise to your prov... prov... your attempts to get me going," I said, with as much dignity as I could manage with the world spinning around me every time I tried to move my head. He grinned at me, and I could tell that he was trying to lull me into a false sense of security.

"Are you going to tell me?" His eyes were so fine, so beautiful, I found myself drowning in them, leaning forward to sink into them as the room span.

"I... I..." My tongue clung to the roof of my mouth. He was here, and I was here, and why not? Eternity didn't matter any more. All that mattered was that he kiss me - or that I kiss him. Once I knew how his lips tasted, I'd be free to die, or to live, or maybe to get beat up til I passed out.

At the moment, that seemed the likeliest option.

I closed my eyes, shuddered, reopened them and dove clumsily in to kiss him.

Oh damn! He tasted good. Better than good. Didn't even seem to mind my awkwardness. No, he opened to me, parting his lips and accepting my kiss with apparent eagerness.

Who was this Mulder and what had he done with the original? Opening my eyes I scanned the room. Yep, definitely his apartment. Took a whiff, yep, that scent was his.

He broke off the kiss. "Alex, close your eyes and stop *sniffing* me. I promise you, I *am* exactly who I say I am. Now... where were we? Oh yeah-"

With that, he kissed me. And groaned. Without any knowledge of how it happened, I suddenly found myself reclining on the couch, his body blanketing mine. His groin grinding against mine.

He was hard. Very hard. So was I. My hips rose to meet his with equal enthusiasm. We moaned.

I knew orgasm was imminent. Judging by the increasing moans and whimpers, and the way his breaths were growing ever heavier, we'd both lose it soon - *very* soon.

Drunken mumbles, hands, and lips and that feeling that I was through the looking glass seemed to topple me. I clung to him despairingly, and then, suddenly, I felt myself fade.

Dazed, I slid into oblivion.

The brightness pressed on my face and felt like knives. Someone was pounding with a tenderizing mallet on the base of my skull, and my stomach had moved six inches to the left.

I groaned.

Christonacrutch. What the *fuck* had I done last night? My head pounded. My stomach churned. And, *damn*, what in the hell was that noise - not to mention the heavy weight draped atop me?

A snuffle. A snort. Then a voice. A very quiet voice. "Krycek?" The voice questioned into my ear.

Reluctantly, I opened one eye, warily looking at the face above mine.

"Mulder?"

"Uhng," he slurred.

Must've been one hell of a dream. Realizing (hoping) that I was *still* dreaming, I closed my eye again. I'd just go back to sleep. Once I woke, the dream would be over. No more Mulder. No more memories of what had... *had not* happened last night.

Suddenly, and quite rudely, in my opinion, the dream Mulder leapt off of the couch and stared at me in accusatory disbelief. "How *dare* you come here and... kiss me?"

Okay. Not a dream.

I groaned painfully and gingerly moved into a sitting position. "Coffee," I croaked. "Then talk... If I survive, that is."

"That's okay, Krycek," murmured Mulder, as he looked at my pain and woe. "I'd hate to come between you and an early death."

I groaned again. "If I go, I'm taking you with me. For pity's sake, feed me coffee. My mouth tastes like a sumo wrestler's jockstrap. Not even you could be so cruel."

Grumbling, he moved off into the kitchen, returning with a mug of something that seemed to me to bear a fair resemblance to paint stripper, handing it to me with pride.

Tasting it, I almost wished that I had died. This was crueler than any of the beatings he'd administered through the years. Shuddering, I drank.

It must have contained some powerful corpse reviver, because all of a sudden, the room stopped reverberating every time anyone moved, and when he smiled, I only saw one of him.

"I did it because I wanted to; same reason I saved you with the vaccine," I mumbled, half hoping he wouldn't hear me.

No such luck.

"What's that, Krycek?" He was grinning, and I could tell that I had nowhere left to go but the truth.

What a fate for a double agent of my caliber.

"I said... er, um... I *meant* to say that I l-l-love you. That's why I did what I did."

With a wicked twinkle in his eye, he hummed the Twilight Zone theme.

I banged my head against the back of the sofa. *OUCH* "Mulderrr..." I moaned. "You are a cruel, cruel man. Besides you kissed me back!"

He nodded. "Indeed I did. And more."

Oh yeah. Much more, I realized, reaching down to scratch at the dried semen decorating my crotch.

"You wouldn't care to explain, would you?" I asked huskily.

"Absolutely right," smirked the bastard. "I wouldn't."

"Well, fuck you then," I gritted, turning to snarl my best feral snarl in his face.

"By all means," he said with a snide little smile, and all of a sudden, I was breathless.

"Oh," was all I could manage, as what he'd said suddenly dawned on me. "Oh, Mulder."

His mouth was soft - softer than I remembered from last night, and my belly was still doing flip-flops, and the room was still spinning, but this time I was stone cold sober and was not on the verge of passing out.

Not from booze, anyway. Asphyxiation perhaps, but I'd die happy.

Flopping down onto the couch beside me, he moved close - very close - to me. Snuggled against my left side. Not until he'd pulled my shortened arm around *his* shoulder, did I realized that he'd... he...

Damn!

With a violent shove, I pushed him off of me and leapt to my feet. "What the *hell*? That's off-limits, Mulder! Don't touch that! Don't ever touch me there!"

"'Samatter, Alex? Little touchy about the arm - or lack thereof?" He smirked. "Didn't seem to be a problem last night."

It hadn't? Vaguely, I remembered his hands on my stump and his voice soothingly murmuring assurances. Telling me that I was still beautiful.

Oh god. Oh shit. Beautiful? He thought I was-

No! Nononono. It had been the booze talking. No way could he see *that* and find me in the least desirable.

With a mighty yawn, he clambered off of the couch. "Shower," he suggested. "Toothbrush," he said. "Shave, too."

"Fine," I responded rustily. "You go right on ahead. I need more coffee - or what passes as coffee in your sadly lacking excuse for such a beverage."

With an offended sound, he fixed me with a reproachful look. "You dissing my coffee? Tell you what, join me in the shower - Then *you* can make coffee.

Not on a bet! No way did I have any intention of joining him in a shower. I'd seen his very small shower cubicle. The thought of his wet body brushing up against mine filled me with horror.

"*I'll* brew a pot of caffeine while you shower - then take one myself."

"Nope," he said cheerfully. "After we shower - together - you can make the coffee while I cook us up some breakfast."

I was doomed. Asphyxiation was imminent.

My feet seemed to have their own agenda. They followed Mulder as he led the way to the bathroom and came to a halt all on their own without me.

Mulder was slowly removing his clothing, and I stood there, watching him shed layers, the perfect onion, always a layer beyond the one we were watching. Firm, pale flesh was exposed gradually, and my heart began to pound in a rather scary fashion, almost as if it were trying to get out of my chest.

"Now you, Alex," he said, reaching towards me. I quailed, backing away hurriedly.

"Get off me, Mulder," I croaked in a voice that was completely unlike my own. It didn't work.

Long fingers were fumbling at my shirt, my jacket... fuck, my pants. "Oh, woe is me; I am undone," I mumbled, as my pants slithered down my legs to fall at my feet.

"Mulder?" I said, trying for sense one last time before I fell apart. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Don't worry about it, Krycek. It's like riding a bike. You'll be fine." His snarky voice stroked goosebumps over my skin, but I was rapidly ceasing to care.

"I... Um, Mulder... A *bike*?"

He snickered, then leaned into the shower. Started twisting knobs.

"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Getting ready to take that shower, Alex. You know - water, soap, fucking."

"F-f-fucking?"

"Yes, Alex. Fucking. First in the shower, then in the bed. Unless you have a better idea. The kitchen table, maybe. The desk? The couch?"

Oh, god! "Mulder, I don't think-"

"Well, stop thinking. You want this as much as I do. Now get the fuck into the shower!"

Climbing into the too-small cubicle, he fixed me with an impatient glare. "Come *on*."

Okay. Fine. I'd call his bluff. Adopting my best 'I don't care' face, I joined him. And, damn, found myself pressed against his nakedness. And his rapidly rising erection.

He thrust his groin against mine, grinning in triumph when I couldn't control my reaction... Suddenly I, too, was achingly hard.

The water cascaded over us, and his hair swiftly assumed a sleek, seal-like appearance as it plastered itself down against his skull. My eyes were drawn to his face, his smiling face, and I felt my last remaining link with intelligence shatter.

"Mulder, I..." I tried again, and gasped as I felt his arms surround me, pull me close.

My body had a mind of its own. It liked this - loved it, in fact. Mr. Spikey was fighting the good fight with every last little cell, and I was rapidly forgetting that I had any purpose in life except to be here, in this shower, with this man.

I don't know what I was going to say, but it didn't matter anyway, because he stopped my mouth with his own, plastering his lips against mine, his tongue flickering inside as he stole my words, stole my voice, robbed me of any will to escape.

I put my arm around him and hung on, otherwise I could see myself sliding down to lie in a heap at his feet, and for a start I'd probably drown, then there's the fact that it would be incredibly undignified, and finally, this felt really, really good.

So I held on, kissed him back, and moaned as his body pressed to mine sent all kinds of wonderful feelings loose to careen throughout my body.

His hands moved over me, touching, stroking, applying soap and shampoo, while I hung there, somewhere between reality and a higher state of being, and tried to determine if I was asleep and dreaming, or if this was actually happening to me.

When his fingers strayed to the cleft of my ass, and began to caress parts of me in a way I'd dreamed of ever since I'd met him, I decided that I didn't care, didn't care at all, just so he would continue.

If I was sleeping, I'd be damned if I wanted to wake up.

"Mmmm," I hummed.

"Like that, huh?" he asked with an evil smirk.

"Unghhh'" I responded, since the ability to speak seemed to have deserted me.

One of his fingers slipped into my ass and I gasped.

"Gotta clean you inside and out," he teased.

Okay. No complaints here... in fact, I rocked back against that delicious pleasure. Taking the hint, he pushed in further, started to thrust. Then - *then* - the sadistic bastard withdrew.

"Noooo!" Funny, when properly motivated, my vocal ability miraculously reappeared. "Don't stop. Dammit, don't stop *now*."

"But," *snicker*, "you haven't washed me yet."

Yeah, right. I picked up the soap. I'd show *him*. The teasing bastard. Rubbing a goodly amount of suds on my hand, I started to run said hand over his chest. Almost got distracted by the silkiness and heat of his skin, but I took a deep breath and persevered. He held out for a while, but when my hand moved down and caressed his cock, he closed his eyes and moaned.

I laughed and reached around to his ass. He sighed. Rubbed the opening to his asshole. His breath caught.

"Aleex!"

"Turn about is fair play," I whispered in his ear.

His face was contorted with the pleasure I was bringing him, and my own face mirrored that, drinking in the sweet grimace he was wearing, wanting to cause him more.

"You're gonna hate yourself in the morning, Mulder," I whispered, and added more soap, a creamy slick of lather under my fingers letting me glide over his flesh. For the million and first time I cursed the peasants that maimed me. If I'd had two hands he'd have been on his knees before me now, begging me to love him.

Still, I do what I can. I took the tender mouth, nibbled, licked, sucked the nectar of his compliance, drowned myself in his breath and pretended that this wasn't just a quick stop along the way.

If I could have this for the rest of my life, I'd want to live.

I did want to live, because once I'd had this, I'd want it again...

... and again, forever and ever, Amen.

Gently, I urged him to turn around. When he moved without any fuss, I kissed his shoulders, kissed the baby-soft skin at the nape of his neck, and slowly pressed my dick home inside him.

Home... it's a lovely word. It described how I feel. Mulder was home for me. My lodestar. Without Mulder, I had no meaning.

I pressed in, and he felt so wonderful, his ass clasping me to the root. I shivered, groaned, had to hold myself back from coming too soon.

Reaching around his body, I took hold of his cock, and stroked him. His ass answered, tightening around me and almost doing me in. I gasped and thrust.

The sounds he was making... *god*! Every gasp, every grunt, every moan sent a thrill through my body. And, the way he kept pushing back onto my cock - not to mention the way he thrust into my hand! Dammit, much as I wanted to make this last, I knew that orgasm was imminent.

"Alex," he groaned huskily, "so good. You feel so good!"

And he came. Hard. All over my hand. That was it for me - I thrust in as far as possible and poured myself into his depths.

Together, we sank to our knees. I damn near passed out in the aftermath. Slumped against his back, I slowly learned to breathe again.

"You okay?" he asked. Where did he get off sounding so coherent?

"Uhhh. Yeah, think so," I croaked. "Damn, Mulder, you nearly killed me!"

"Nearly? Well... I'll just have to try harder next time."

Next time! *Next time?* Holy shit!

He reached up and turned the water off. "C'mon."

"Where?"

"To bed, of course. Gonna fuck you this time. Fuck you good and hard."

"If you can just hold on a minute while I make sure that the top of my head is still in place, I would be grateful," I said, with as much dignity as I could muster.

I shook my head, trying to clear out the strange, rose colored light through which I was seeing him. This was Fox Mulder, and he was in my arms, apparently willing to let me love him.

I was a spy who'd come in from the cold, and he was warm; I felt the heat from his skin, and the smile that he gave me was the sun gone nova, blinding me, making me shiver with a love that consumed me, fire from the inside.

Still shivering, I managed a smile.

"Bed, okay," and though that wasn't deathless prose, at least it sounded as if I wasn't completely brain dead.

Wait a minute... *Bed?* My heart started to pump double time and I had to hang onto him again, my body quivering as I thought of us together, twined naked in a bed.

"Mulder? Are you sure you want...?"

His mouth stopped mine again, and I was forced to devote my attention to breathing as he kissed me senseless.

When our lips parted, he met my eyes with a serious expression. "Yes, Alex. I'm sure. Sure that I want you. Sure that I love you."

"Love me?" I repeated incredulously. "No. You couldn't possibly love me." I shook my head. "You might want me - hell, obviously you do - but love? No way. Uh uh. You can't. You *don't!"

"Yes I can. And, yes I do."

Carefully, gently, he dried me off. I stood there silently, in shock. Was it possible? Could he actually lo-

NO! This was just a game to him. His way of getting back at me. Taking advantage of my feelings to make a fool of me.

"You don't believe me," he said sadly. "Alex, it's true. Granted it's taken me a long time to realize the truth, but please give me a chance. I'll prove it to you. I really do love you."

Doubtfully, I nodded.

"Now, let's go to bed. And talk."

"Talk? I thought you wanted to-"

"Make no mistake, I still want to fuck you through the mattress. But first, I think we need to... to straighten out your misconceptions. I want to explain my feelings for you."

"Oh. Okay."

Together, we headed into the bedroom and climbed into the bed.

This was a first. Half past nine in the morning, and here I was, lying in Fox Mulder's bed, and glory be, the aforesaid Fox Mulder was there with me, his arms around me, his lips mumbling down the side of my face and distracting me to the point where I could no longer remember my name.

"M...mulder?" I stuttered, turning towards him.

Big mistake - or not, if you happen to like being kissed completely and thoroughly by a Fed who is used to conducting full body searches. Fortunately, I happen to really enjoy it.

Hours later - or so it seemed - he released my mouth and lay gazing at me, a faint smile on his lips - puffy from kissing me.

"I always loved you, Alex. I never wanted to love you, but I was never able to stop."

My heart skipped, stuttered, and then started to pound. "Funny you should say that," I whispered, when my voice would work again. "Ever since I saw you that day, with a 24 hour growth of whisker and a bad attitude, I've wanted you..."

"And now, here we are. Why couldn't we have done this earlier?" Mulder's voice was gentle, and his soul was clearly visible in his eyes. I couldn't stop myself from pulling him back against me to kiss again.

"I thought," I mumbled, breaking off the kiss, "that you wanted to talk."

"Enough talking," he said. "Wanna fuck - no, make love - to you. We can talk later."

Sounded good to me. Very good. I pulled him atop me and made an encouraging sound. "So fuck me already. I want you. More than you can possibly know."

"Oh, Alex, I know. Want you just as badly!"

"Well then... get to work, Foxy."

He grinned down at me. "Thought I told you not to call me that."

"You did. I chose to ignore you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Alexxx..."

Deciding that a distraction was in order, I raised my hips, grinding myself against his very hard cock. "Fuck me!" I demanded.

"If you insist."

"I do! Fuck me *now*, damn you."

He reached into the bedside table drawer, scrabbling around until he found what he was looking for. Gleefully, he displayed his find. A tube of lubrication.

Oh yeah! But... "Condom?" I asked.

"I'm clean," he said. "You?"

"Shit, Mulder. It's been - well, I'll just say it's been a long, dry spell. Last time I was tested the result was negative."

"Well," he grinned, "that settles that question."

"How do you want me?" I couldn't believe I was asking the question. I couldn't believe that he wanted me any way at all, let alone in his bed. Waves of unreality seemed to wash over me as I waited for his answer.

"On your back - I want to see your face as I slide inside you," whispered Mulder, his usually flat voice breaking with the intensity of his emotion - and all for me. I couldn't believe it.

I raised my knees and let them fall sluttishly apart as I fixed him with my best come-hither stare.

"Like this?" I asked. "You think this is a good look for me?"

He didn't answer, and I could tell why he was silent. His lips were parted, and his chest was rising and falling like a bellows. Even without the tell-tale bobbing of his cock, I could see that he was turned on. Hell, I was turned on myself.

I know that I look good. I've got a shortened wing, but it doesn't detract from my charm - I've made damned sure of that; it's my stock in trade, but he... well, he looked so damned wonderful that I was forced to relinquish my crown. What a beauty.

So we hovered there, somewhere in the outer reaches of eroticism, and gazed at each other until finally I couldn't stand it any more.

"Are you going to fuck me, Mulder?" I whispered, plaintively. "You promised..."

"No."

*WHAT?*

"Actually," he said, smiling at me, "I promised to make love to you."

Oh.

"And that," he whispered, climbing up to lay beside me, "is exactly what I intend to do."

Oh, god.

His lips started pressing a line of kisses along my neck. "Just," *kiss*, "relax and let me do this my way."

Relax? Yeah, right. Like I could possibly manage anything even resembling relaxation with him-

Shifting lower, his mouth closed over my left nipple. Sucking and nibbling the hardened nub, he hummed against my flesh.

I writhed under him and, embarrassingly enough, I made a kind of whining, pleading noise.

"Shhh," he soothed. Then, the bastard moved his hand down... and down. Skimming past my weeping cock, his fingers skittered over my balls to my perineum.

"SHIT!" I yelled, spreading my legs further apart.

Gently, he massaged my opening with one finger.

He's trying to kill me, I thought dazedly.

In a quiet tone, he murmured into my ear, "I love you, Alex."

He was, I suddenly believed, telling me the truth. He really does love me. Me. Alex Krycek. He - this - I... Damn! No one had ever touched me with such care. Such gentleness. With so much love.

Hands on me, and lips sucking, teeth grazing as he browsed across my body. I tried to emulate him but found that all I could do was hang on grimly while he took me apart and gently rebuilt me, molding me with hands and mouth while all the time his eyes were fixed on mine.

Fingers fumbled for my ass, and I drew up my knees to let him explore, lying at ease as he fondled me, fingers stroking, teasing and finally piercing. As he slipped inside of me, I cried out, unable to stay silent as his gentle dismantling of all my barriers left me naked, defenseless in his arms.

"I've always loved you, Mulder. Don't think that's gonna change now, do you?" My voice was cracking with the emotion I never - NEVER - showed to anyone. If he let me down now, I didn't know what I would do. It would be the end.

His hand teased me still, probing for my sweet spot, finding it, and making me squeal as the shivering pleasure stabbed through me. "Don't want it to change. You and me... We're together now, and I have no intention of letting you get away again."

There was only one thing I could do after that. My mouth sought his, fixed itself to his gently smiling lips, and kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

Talented man that he is, the kissing didn't distract him from his careful loosening of my hole. No, one finger was soon joined by a second. Then a third. He just kept stroking me inside, pressing against my prostate, driving me out of my mind.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. "Mulder," I gasped, "now. I'm ready for godssake. Never been this ready in my life!" Impatiently, I pulled at him, urging him to lay on top of me.

He grinned at me. "You're sure about that? I wouldn't want to rush you or anything."

"Fucking smartass!" I grouched. "Get the hell on top and inside of me. Now!"

"Awfully bossy when you're on the bottom, aren't you?" he teased, sliding his body over mine. "Raise your legs for me. Yeah. That's it."

Grasping his cock with one hand, he pressed the head against my well loosened and lubricated asshole. With a gentle rocking motion, he slowly entered me. Once he'd *finally* inserted his cock, sinking in to the root, he stopped and closed his eyes.

"Jesus, Alex! You feel so good. Perfect. Your ass was made for me."

If I could have spoken right then, I'd have told him that he'd discovered his truth at last, not out there at all, but right here. Sadly, all I could manage was a strangled croak as he filled me utterly, and lay, his dear weight pressing me down, possessing me completely in a way that I had never permitted before, and would forever now crave.

He didn't move. After a minute, I took his face in my hands and pulled his mouth down to join with mine again, moaning softly against his lips as the fluttering of some strange beasts filled my insides, turning them liquid at the thought of him inside me this way.

At last, he began to pull back, the sense of loss so huge as I felt him withdraw from my body that I wanted to cry out in protest. He pressed in again, and the slip and drag of his cock within me stroked fiery trails of sensation as it passed over tissues that craved him.

"God, yes," I managed to whisper. "Yes."

Blue grey eyes laughed into mine. His lip curved in a smile that was as tender as any I had ever seen from him, and sent me shivering into the build up of ecstasy.

"Come on, Alex," he urged. "I want to see it when you come. I want to watch you lose control, and know that I'm the one that made it happen."

He took hold of my cock, and suddenly, I was almost there. I moaned loudly, then gasped as he moved that hand, stroking me in an irresistible rhythm.

"Ahhh, Mulder!"

"Give it to me, Alex. Come for me... NOW!"

I lost it. I mean, I came harder that I'd ever come in my life. Pulse after pulse of semen shot from my cock, covering his hand and my stomach with the proof of my inability to resist his command.

Tightening my arm and legs around him, I held on for dear life as I shuddered through my climax. "I love you, Foxy," I croaked.

"Thought I told you," his muscles tensed and he thrust strongly into my body, "not," *gasp* "to call me that... Oh shit... Oh my fucking GOD!"

Panting, he collapsed against me. "Holy shit, Alex! I've never come that hard in my life," he finally whispered.

I grinned. "Me either," I told him. "Must be love."

"Must be," he agreed. "You're mine now, Alex. Not gonna let you get away now."

"If you ever hurt me, I'll kill you; you know that, don't you?" I whispered tenderly in his ear.

"If you kill me, you won't have anyone to do this for you," He kissed me again, long and tender, and I felt myself melt.

"Okay, you can live," I croaked.

And so could I... for the first time in my life, I was alive.

"I am he that liveth, and was dead;
and, behold, I am alive for evermore,
Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death."
--The Revelation of St. John the Divine 1:18

The End

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