Turncoat/Changeling
Fandom: The X-Files
Category/Rated:
Year/Length: ~9420 words
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
Spoilers: Terma, maybe SR319....not really I don't think.
Disclaimer: These boys are the property of 1013, and have not been looked after properly. I'm trying to give them hints.
Summary: There's a plot? Well.... The "Quartet Infernale" challenge has Alex gaining a new image. I am very flattered to be writing in the same forum as 3 of my heroines of slash.
Author's Notes: Beta provided by Orithain, who truly knows a comma even when it's hiding: Nicole who is attempting to rid me of my accent: and Paula who makes me think. Frankie and Aries were in there giving immoral support and I hope it lives up to the promise.
Fox Mulder was cold, tired, dirty, wet and suffering from strange twinges of cramp. He'd been crouched in his corner behind the garbage and the boxes for what seemed like forever. He was in the only adequate place of concealment in the vicinity, and he daren't even breathe in case bits of him poked out around the edges. Above his head, the guttering was in a state of disrepair that meant there was a stubborn trickle of rain unerringly finding the back of his neck. his jeans had long since become waterlogged, and he was kneeling in something squishy that he didn't want to think about.
His mystery informant had left him cryptic messages several times over the past week. He knew that something was going to happen here, and that it would be a good idea to stay out of sight. He just didn't know what. There was no movement close by. Outside the alley the occasional car still passed by despite the lashing rain and the lateness of the hour. Mulder gritted his teeth and wondered why the dark underbelly of society always met in garbage-studded back alleys. Why couldn't they meet in comfort at the Playboy Club or even the local greasy spoon?
His left leg was asleep and he wished he could get up and walk about. Hell, he wished he could join his left leg. Dammit! It was 2am, and he was fed up.
The headlights of a car suddenly threw the alley into sharp relief, giving the shadows razor edges, and leaching the colour from everything. Mulder was alone in a drab world of grey, black and yellow. As he waited, a large, beat-up truck was slowly pulling up in the space beside his hiding place. He could see at least two men inside, and as he watched, another vehicle pulled up behind it. Mulder could not see it, but he heard the crunch of tires, and then the dull thunk as a car door was slammed told him that the occupant was out and moving to meet his associates.
Mulder could not see who was out there in the gloom, and could only hear snatches of the conversation. He mentally snarled a number of very satisfying curse words, and then froze as one of the men on the other side of the car began to speak.
"This is from the Smoker. You're to see that it gets delivered without witnesses." Mulder did not know the voice of the man speaking, but he would know it again, that was for sure. There was a mumble in response to the first speaker. Mulder could not hear what was being said and he very slowly began to get up. His intention was to creep around the truck that was obscuring his view, and see if he could get closer to the action. The first speaker went on the air again.
"If he gets in the way, kill him. The Smoker is very concerned about his constant interference." The voice was cold, and Mulder was more determined than ever to see who was taking part in this ominous exchange.
As he rose stealthily to his feet, gun in hand, his left leg, now tingling with pins and needles, gave way beneath him, and he slipped, making boxes and trash cans fly everywhere and totally blowing any chance of remaining hidden.
"Fuck!" He had let his gun fall in the frantic attempt to keep his balance, and dropped back to his knees in an attempt to recover it. The men behind the truck, having heard the crashing and banging were reacting. Mulder heard a car start up and pull away, and as he got his hands on his pistol once more, a tall, heavy set man in denims rounded the hood of the truck and started towards him, gun at the ready. Mulder knew that he had seconds left rather than minutes, and rolled desperately as a shot rang out. The man in front of him jerked and fell backwards, but his companion had now rounded the front of the vehicle, and was pointing yet another gun straight at Mulder. The man fired, and for a moment the puzzled agent thought his shot had gone wide. He fired his own weapon, and the second man threw his arms wide, took two staggering steps, and slumped down onto the filthy pavement. There was a crashing from behind Mulder, and then he felt a sudden blow to his back that knocked him sprawling in the garbage once more.
For a second he was dazed, but as he pushed himself up, recovering his errant gun yet again, he could see that it was a man who had struck him, and that whoever it was now lay face down in the slime. He had been lying concealed within the very pile of boxes Mulder had used to hide behind. He must have been there for the whole time that Mulder had been waiting, close enough to touch if Mulder had only been aware of his presence. His blood ran cold, and he cautiously approached the fallen man, putting out his foot to nudge him, holding his gun steadily on him.
"Freeze, FBI!" Even as he spoke the words, he felt silly. This person was not going anywhere. He lay in a rapidly spreading pool of blood, and only the spastic twitching of his right hand gave away the fact that he still lived.
Mulder was very aware that this man, whoever he was, had saved his life. He had blown his own cover to shoot the man who had come so close to blowing Mulder's brains out. The least he could do was to help him now. Mulder knelt yet again, his knees sinking into decaying fruit, old, soggy cardboard and water. He could see only a greasy woollen beanie, partially covering a head of long, thick, dark hair. The wet hair clung to the other man's face, obscuring all but the end of a nose. Mulder, mystified, rolled the man over carefully, and his blood sang in his ears as he finally recognised his saviour.
Alex Krycek lay in his own blood. His clothes were sodden and dirty, his hair was hanging in wet strings down onto his shoulders, and he had a beard, the kind of beard that made Mulder think of billy goats, or ZZ Top, or a certain fungal culture he had managed to grow in his fridge one time when he had stored an open can of partially eaten beans. He had a hole in his left shoulder and from the sounds of his breathing, he was rapidly going into shock.
Mulder thought hard. Checking the dash of the truck by his side, he spotted the keys still dangling from the ignition. He felt for Krycek's pulse. It was rapid and weak. Mulder looked for a way of getting him off the ground and into the truck. There was no space for a man to lie flat out in the cab, so with a grunt and a heave, Mulder raised his stricken arch-enemy in his arms and deposited him in the rear of the truck with a bundle of sacks, two spare tires and a propane tank.
Lacking a blanket with which to cover him, Mulder threw sacks over him.
"Hang on, Krycek, I'll get you to the hospital." Mulder wasn't sure if his fallen charge could hear him or not. His skin was livid under the light from the truck. He was turning away to get into the cab when the barest whisper reached him.
"No, can't...hospital..no."
Sighing, Mulder reached for his cell phone.
The drive to his apartment was fast. Mulder pushed the asthmatic old vehicle as hard as he dared, however the suspension on the truck was not the best, and the rain had increased in its fury. As he pulled up at the door, he could see that Scully was already there. Leaving the door of the truck wide open, he ran to where she was waiting, and as she climbed out of her car he led her over to the truck where Krycek lay.
"Mulder, we have to get him out of this weather or he's going to die from hypothermia and shock. He really needs to be in a hospital." Scully as usual was as sharp as her scalpel. She had not wanted to come out in the middle of the night to aid Krycek, of all people, but now she was here, he was her patient, and she would do her best for him.
Mulder handed her his keys and with a sigh, he scooped up the unconscious man, threw him over his shoulder, and staggered after her as she led the way to his apartment.
Arriving in the dry, warm apartment, Mulder laid his burden down on a plastic table cloth that Scully had spread on the floor. The man lay unmoving, his wound bleeding sluggishly, the area around his mouth blue. His pulse was thready and erratic. Mulder looked at Scully, unsure of what to do that would help.
"Mulder, get him out of those wet clothes first. We need to warm him up. I can't start probing for bullets in that wound until he's a bit more stable."
Mulder grunted his acquiescence, and started to remove the filthy clothes Krycek was wearing. The beanie hat went first, rapidly followed by soggy sneakers and socks. Then Mulder began to tackle the canvas coveralls that the other man was wearing. The zipper went the length of his torso, and Mulder had to go and search for a knife that would slice through the fabric before he succeeded in cutting away the arms and peeling the disgusting garment off him. Krycek moaned, but did not return to consciousness as Mulder cut through the thin, black T-shirt laying bare Krycek's smooth chest and revealing the oozing bullet wound in his shoulder. Straps crossed Krycek's chest and shoulder, and as he unfastened them, pulling them away with the T-sirt, Mulder suddenly realised, with a certainty that pierced him like a stiletto and made him want to vomit, that Krycek's left arm was artificial. His blood ran cold for a minute, and he knew without doubt that he was partly to blame for this man's mutilation. Mulder turned away and put his head down between his knees as a wave of faintness washed over him.
Scully was working on Krycek's shoulder, washing the site of his injury with antiseptic. With a frown, she motioned to Mulder to hurry up and get Krycek warm. Mulder turned back to his task, unfastening the man's worn, blue jeans and grabbing the ankles to yank them off as fast as he could. He wore no underwear, and finally lay naked on Mulder's tablecloth.
Mulder laid a comforter over the waxy whiteness of Krycek's body, but not before he had committed the sight of him to his memory. Krycek was beautiful. Chafing the unconscious man's feet, he looked at Scully.
"Would it help to use hot water, Scully? Maybe put him in a bath?" Scully shook her head. She had begun to probe the wound with a horribly sharp looking pair of forceps, and suddenly pulled out the flattened piece of metal that had made the hole in Krycek's shoulder. Krycek moaned, and moved his head from side to side restlessly. Scully swiftly began to clean up the wound, dusting it with antibiotic powder, and then stitching it quickly and carefully.
"You're going to have to clean him off somehow, Mulder. He needs to be in bed and he's filthy, in fact you both are. Whatever have you been doing?" As Mulder opened his mouth to tell her, she switched attention once more as Krycek regained consciousness.
"What happened? Why am I here?" The smoky voice was barely audible as he tried to articulate through dry lips. "Hurts... Need to warn Mulder."
Mulder moved forward into Krycek's field of vision, and spoke reassuringly. "It's OK, Krycek. We're both OK. Scully's fixing you up. You'll be just as good as new if you can let her finish off there."
Krycek tried to struggle upright, and Mulder leaned forward to place a restraining hand on his chest. "Hold on there, Krycek. You can't go anywhere like that. Let us fix you up first, then you can go with my good wishes." The injured man subsided once more, but lay, eyes feverish, looking about him as if searching for a bolt hole.
Scully had finished her artwork on Krycek's shoulder, and had taped gauze over the neatly stitched injury. She took his temperature and pulse, and then appeared to consider.
"I think you'd better try to get him in the bathtub. We need to get him clean at least, and I'm sure he's strong enough now. He's covered in garbage. Heaven knows what kind of infections the two of you are harbouring on your skin." She looked down at Krycek.
"We're going to try and make you more comfortable, Krycek. You should feel much better in a few minutes. Try and hang in for a little while longer. OK?" Taking his cue from her words, Mulder went into the bathroom to run a bath.
Between the two of them, Scully and Mulder had managed to get Krycek into the tub, and he was now using her antiseptic wash to cleanse the garbage off his body. Krycek was sturdily made, and his powerful frame glistened under the soap. Mulder was washing the injured man's hair, attempting to remove the crud that had soaked into it. Krycek was conscious, and his eyes glittered feverishly as Mulder rubbed the shampoo into his unkempt mane. Scully had taped a waterproof dressing over Kycek's injury, and his skin was looking much pinker and healthier than it had when first they had first brought him in. His lips still had a grey tinge to them, and Scully was in the kitchen currently heating up soup and making tea for the man in the bathtub.
Mulder was still in his wet clothing, and hadn't thought to change since bringing Krycek into his apartment. He was soaked to the skin, and well aware that his night was not yet over. He still had to do something about the truck he had left outside before he could sleep.
Krycek lay back in the bathtub, apparently dozing, and Mulder aimed the shower head at his hair, sluicing out the foam, and allowing it to stream down his back as he washed away the filth that had accumulated. He tried to ignore the man he was washing, a task that was proving increasingly difficult as he took in the strong legs, the slim hips and narrow waist flaring to a deep chest. All in all, Krycek would have made a fantastic statue. He was a work of art. The only thing that marred perfection was the missing arm. Mulder tried very hard not to notice the missing arm.
The rinsing operation complete, Mulder took a large,fluffy towel, and told Krycek to get out of the tub.As he stepped out, he faltered, and Mulder found himself newly drenched as the other man fell against him, dripping wet and shaking.
Mulder wrapped him in the towel and sat him on the closed lid of the toilet, where he stayed for a couple of minutes, eyes closed and face white. Sighing, Mulder took a second towel and began to dry him off. Then taking a comb, Mulder attacked the shock of shoulder length hair that had so surprised him.
"That's kind of a new look for you isn't it, Krycek? You remind me of the south end of a northbound bear!" Krycek smiled hazily, and Mulder jumped as he heard the sultry voice unexpectedly whisper.
"Needed it for protective coloration. It's itchy. Can shave it off any time." Krycek's lips were dry and cracked and there were dark circles under his eyes. Mulder gently applied the towel to his wet hair, squeezing out as much of the moisture as he could before tossing the soaked towel into the linen basket.
He combed out the long hair, mopping up the water that ran from it. Then he carefully dried the other man's neck and shoulders holding out a pair of sweats for him to put on. Krycek took them, but then turned pale and slumped to one side, leaning against the washbasin.
Mulder sighed, and carefully placed the other man's feet through the legs of the sweatpants. Prompting him to stand, he tugged them up until the man was decently covered again. Placing his arm around the other man, Mulder assisted Krycek who leaned heavily against him and they both left the bathroom. Scully had been busy, and Mulder led his charge into the bedroom, which was miraculously clear of the clutter which had been all over it earlier.
Krycek, who appeared to be at the end of his tether, sat on the edge of the bed, his head leaning forward onto his hand. Mulder wasn't quite sure what to do, and hung back, afraid to leave him, but not wanting to touch him either. Finally, he came forward, and rather gingerly laid Krycek back against the pillows, swinging his long legs up onto the bed and covering him with the bedding. Krycek gave a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a sob, and his eyes rolled up into his head as he finally gave up the effort to stay conscious.
Scully came into the room at that moment, and bustled over the the bedside. Uncovering the dressing she had placed over his injury, she checked to make sure it had not become wet during his bath. She shook her head over the wounded man's pulse, and deftly administered a shot.
"He's still shocked, and he's lost a lot of blood. He needs to sleep, but he needs to replace the liquid he's lost too. If he were in a hospital he would be on a drip right now.I have to say that he's worrying me, Mulder. I've got hot soup waiting in the kitchen, and I made some tea. Let him sleep for an hour or so, and then wake him and make him drink something. He needs to take two of these every four hours." She handed him a bottle of pills. "I'm going back to bed, but call me if he seems to be getting worse. Now, go take a shower, you smell really bad."
With that, she wrinkled her nose and departed.
Following his shower, Mulder wandered back into the bedroom to check on Krycek. Gazing at the occupant of his bed, pale and fragile looking, Mulder tried to sort out his feelings for this man he had hated, injured, and led to his mutilation. He didn't hate him now. He hadn't done so since the night Krycek had broken into his apartment, given him the information he needed to regain his belief, and then kissed him gently before leaving.
Mulder didn't know what he felt exactly. There was an enormous amount of guilt, and a strange tension that seemed to be growing each time he looked at Krycek. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his sweats, and Krycek, who was sleeping restlessly, rolled his head from side to side and began to babble.
"No, Mulder! Mulder! Don't go...love you." Mulder felt a sudden, shuddering warmth spreading in his belly as his abdomen suffered a warp core meltdown. He had suddenly identified his feelings, and with increasing incredulity was fighting a growing need to feel Krycek's hard body pressed to his.
He went into the kitchen and poured soup into a cup, snagging the bottle of pills and a bottle of water as he went. Returning to Krycek, he stood looking at him for a long moment. Krycek was still muttering to himself. Phrases in Russian were intermingled with pleas for Mulder to come back, not to do something that apparently made the wounded man terribly afraid. Mulder could see from the man's increasingly flushed face that he was moving from hypothermia to fever. He sighed, knelt beside Krycek and slipped his arm around the sick man's shoulders, raising him so that he would be able to drink without choking.
"Krycek, You need liquids. Scully made you soup, and I've got medication for you. Come on, you have to drink some of this." Gently, he brought the cup up to Krycek's lips, watching as the other man opened glittering, feverish eyes and fixed huge black pupils onto Mulder's face. He gulped down some of the clear soup, and then lay his head back into Mulder's shoulder. Mulder gazed down at him and attempted to sound coherent as a tide of guilt and lust threatened to overwhelm him.
"Do you need water? You have to take these pills or Scully will have my hide, and seeing what a good job you've done of preserving it I suspect you won't want that to happen." The words were light, but Mulder's tone was strained, and he felt as if he were smothering as he tried to mask his feelings. Krycek, eyes unwaveringly fixed on Mulder, gave the faintest of nods, and Mulder presented the pills for him to take, following it with water. Krycek drank greedily, and finally, with a sigh and a faintly whispered "Thanks" he closed his eyes and lapsed back into sleep.
Mulder moved to the other side of the bed, and lay down on the top of the covers, turning towards Krycek. He would be there if he was needed. Thinking this, he drifted off to sleep.
Mulder slept restlessly, vaguely conscious of the man in bed beside him. Several times during what was left of the night he was wakened by Krycek's voice as the other man babbled hoarsely in Russian and English. Time and again he heard his own name mentioned. By dawn he was exhausted, and as he climbed off the unaccustomed softness of his bed to go and prepare some more liquid for his patient, he felt the prickling throat and stuffiness that heralded a head cold. At that precise moment, his doorbell rang and answering it he gratefully admitted Scully.
She looked as fresh as ever, making Mulder wonder what her secret was. The woman was invariably elegant, well groomed and calm, even after only three hours sleep and a drenching. She clucked over Krycek, who was still sleeping and whose fever had risen during the night. Mulder brought in some tea for Krycek, and the two of them set to work on him. He was not too sure of his surroundings and appeared very confused, fighting off attempts to raise him so he could drink. Finally, Mulder spoke sharply to him, and he murmured "Mulder" before relaxing somewhat and permitting the two agents to feed him fluid and medication.
Scully went into the kitchen and washed her hands, then poured herself a cup of tea. Mulder had followed her into the kitchen and she looked closely at him for the first time.
"You look terrible, Mulder." She laid a hand on his forehead as he put the coffee machine on. "My God, you should be in bed yourself. You're running a fever. How are you feeling?"
Mulder turned bloodshot eyes on her. He fought off the urge to sneeze, and smiled grimly.
"I've got a cold I think. I'm OK." He turned back to his coffee machine, turning it on. Scully watched him anxiously.
"Mulder, you might as well call in sick today and stay in bed. Besides, you can't leave Krycek in his condition. I'll make things OK with Kersh. I'll tell him that I ordered you to stay home. I don't want your lousy germs anyway!" Mulder sat, head bowed, hand rasping his stubbly chin as he thought.
"God, Scully! They took his arm and it's my fault. What can I do? I can't believe I allowed that to happen." He raised misery filled eyes to his partner.
"Mulder, you can't know that for sure. There's nothing that you can do now. It's long gone. It looks like a real butcher's job though. It can't be comfortable. I think he would benefit from further surgery to make the stump fit his prosthesis, but that's about all I can recommend." She looked shrewdly at her partner. "Come on Mulder. You can't take the blame for everything that happens. Wait at least until you know the circumstances before you start beating yourself up about it."
Mulder nodded, unconvinced. The two of them chatted for a few more minutes, and then Scully left.
Mulder spent the day on the couch, rising each time the alarm went off to go and check on Krycek, give him his antibiotics and try to lower his fever. By noon the man was burning hot, and his hair was matted with sweat. Finally, Mulder, who had been bathing Krycek's temples with cold water, went and found a pair of scissors and began to snip away at the tangled hair. As he cut, the clean bones of Krycek's face began to emerge and Mulder could see the faint lilac tracery of veins in the unconscious man's temples.
When he had reduced the weight of the man's hair, leaving feathery strands falling over his forehead, he turned his attention to the beard and moustache, trimming them as short as he could, before heading to the bathroom for his razor and foam.
Returning with a bowl of warm water and a towel, he applied the foam to Krycek's face, and began to shave him very carefully. As he worked, Krycek opened his eyes and lay watching Mulder.
"Hey, Krycek. You said it felt itchy. I'm just trying to make you feel a little more comfortable. I'll get you some breakfast in a minute if you like." Krycek's mouth curved in a smile as he listened to the other man.
"Why are you doing this for me, Mulder? What do you want?" The voice was still weak, but it was closer to Krycek's characteristic husky rasp than Mulder had heard since he had brought Krycek to his apartment. The eyes that were fixed on him now were lucid. Mulder took a deep breath.
"Why did you save my life, Krycek? What do *you* want from me?" They locked eyes. Each man held onto his own secrets. Mulder finished shaving Krycek's face and began to rinse it with a washcloth, before patting it dry. He was aware of Krycek's lips, plump as cushions, and fought off the urge to touch them gently with his finger.
"You know, Mulder, I knew when I fed you that information that you would just have to be there at the scene. I absolutely knew that you would get into trouble. You have no idea how often I have to bail you out. Didn't expect to get into trouble myself though. Thank you." He broke off, gasping a little. Mulder went wordlessly to get him some juice and a further couple of antibiotic capsules. On his return, he had composed himself enough to continue his questioning.
"What I don't understand at all is why you are giving me information. Why are you following me? Why are you protecting me?" Mulder's heart thumped painfully. It felt as if it was trying to bore its way out of his chest, and he was sure that Krycek would be able to hear it, that he would know what it meant.
Krycek closed his eyes for a minute, before opening them wide once more and reaching out his hand to capture Mulder's wrist. Slowly he brought Mulder's hand up to his lips, and Mulder gasped as he felt those lips he had just been fantasizing about brush the back of his hand. He shook his head from side to side, denying everything to himself. Krycek lay calmly, holding Mulder's hand, waiting. His tongue tip protruded just a little, and he traced a small wet circle on the overwhelmed agent's knuckles. Mulder once more felt a flood of warmth rush from his belly button down to his groin, taking his common sense with it. He moaned very quietly, and slowly dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hand still in Krycek's grasp.
Krycek's eyes seemed impossibly large, and Mulder felt as if he was sinking into them, drowning in cool, green eyes. He slowly leaned forward, and bent slightly until his lips touched those of the man in the bed. For a moment, the kneeling man stayed still, relishing the feel of the soft mouth below his, lip brushing silky lip in a gentle motion that made the blood pound in his ears.
Slowly, very slowly indeed, Mulder's mouth pressed down on the other man's until Krycek gave a sigh, closed his eyes and opened up to allow Mulder's tongue to slip in between his lips. As Mulder gently explored the other man, tasting and caressing wherever he could, Krycek gasped as he felt Mulder teasing the inside of his mouth, and pulled up the hand he was still holding to press it to his cheek.
Mulder groaned as he felt Krycek's tongue responding to his probing, and his hand moved to slide around the back of Krycek's neck, holding his head steady as he deepened the kiss. For a few minutes, nothing mattered to either of them but the feel of tongue sliding over tongue, and the moistness of lip on lip. Finally Mulder pulled back just far enough to allow him to speak.
"You were talking in the night, Krycek. I know you love me." Krycek closed his eyes. His face had turned very pale. "What you don't know is how I feel about you." The eyes flew open again as he processed what Mulder was saying to him. For a moment, hope flashed over his face before he managed to gain control of his features and presented his customary bland face to Mulder.
"Oh? How is that? How do you feel?" His voice cracked, betraying his anxiety, but his gaze remained steady, and Mulder, aware of what it was costing the other man to participate in this conversation, decided that he had to put him out of his misery at last.
He didn't speak, he carefully snaked his arms around the injured spy, lowering his mouth to capture Krycek's once more, and they lost themselves in a deep, sweet kiss. Mulder held Krycek as close to him as he could without causing the other man pain, and Krycek, who was shaking slightly, clenched his fist into Mulder's hair as he pulled him into the embrace. This time it was Krycek who invaded Mulder's mouth, Krycek who darted his tongue into Mulder to explore the secrets hidden within, and Krycek who finally cried out as they kissed endlessly.
Eventually, Mulder pulled himself away for long enough to move around the bed and climb into it beside Krycek. The injured man turned towards him, his face white and determined as he forced himself to move through the immense pain. Finally the two men lay pressed together, arms around each other, mouth to mouth as they kissed and stroked, mouthed and fondled.
"Mulder!" Krycek's voice was so full of need that he was hoarse again. "Oh, God, Mulder, I want you. You won't believe how long I've wanted you."
Mulder stopped his voice by moving in to kiss his lips again before wandering away to the corner of his mouth, over his eyelids to his newly shorn hair. Krycek gasped as Mulder began to nibble and suck on his neck leaving red marks behind as his lips wandered lazily over his skin. For a while, the only sounds were those of the rustling of bedclothes, the moist sounds of mouth on skin and the ragged breathing of the two men.
Mulder felt as if he were bursting. His skin was too tight. He couldn't get enough air to fill his lungs, and the whole of his body sang like a harp as he did his best to climb inside Krycek's skin. His hands wandered down to the tell-tale erection the other man was sporting. Krycek groaned as Mulder delved down into his pants and took hold of him, squeezing gently and stroking up and down as he did so. Mulder could see the other man's face flush as his eyelids fluttered closed and then open again as he drank in the sight of Mulder's face hovering above him, eyes cloudy with need as he made love to him.
"I don't want to hurt you. I don't know what to do that won't cause you pain." Mulder sounded almost desperate as he caressed Krycek, unsure what he was doing but knowing that he had to continue or explode.
"Hurt me?" Krycek's voice was gentle, faintly amused. "Hurt me a little! I can take it! You're driving me crazy. Love me, please love me." Mulder pulled back on the comforter, tugging down on the sweats that the other man was wearing, and exposed his penis standing tall and firm, moisture oozing from the tip as Mulder pumped it up and down slowly. Watching it with great interest he observed the way the other man responded to certain movements on his part. Circling the head of Krycek's cock with his finger and thumb, Mulder began to squeeze around the ridge that separated the head from the shaft of it, and as Krycek arched his head backwards, moaning, he dipped his head to take it into his mouth, lapping at it before sucking it in as deeply as he could manage. Closing his hand over the base of the shaft, he pumped it firmly as he sucked. After a very few minutes he heard Krycek's breathing change and as he continued the sucking pressure, Krycek arched, bucked, and came in Mulder's hot, velvet mouth. Mulder drank from him, but the spurting semen still managed to trickle from the corner of his mouth as he swallowed. Krycek was totally limp, lying flat and gasping as Mulder sucked him clean, running his fingers over the intimate creases where legs met belly.
Gently, Mulder wriggled himself upwards again to check on Krycek. He was lying in a sprawl, boneless and panting, a smile of total bliss on his face as Mulder carefully claimed his mouth. Together they shared the taste of Alex's come as Mulder kissed him again.
"Krycek...Oh, hell, Alex, are you OK? I didn't hurt you?" Alex fixed his shining green eyes on Mulder as he searched for words.
"Oh, God! That was wonderful. It didn't hurt a bit. I don't think I could possibly feel pain right now. I'm so trashed, I don't think I could raise my hand to prevent you from slitting my throat!" He ducked into the angle of Mulder's jaw, running his tongue over the stubble there, moving down to his neck and nipping gently at the skin. Mulder closed his eyes, and let his feelings wash over him. He knew that this was right. He had never before felt so crazy. Alex's hand wandered down to feel for Mulder's engorged cock, running a practised thumb over the head and sliding the moisture it found there across the sensitive ridge on the underside. Mulder sat up, leaning on one elbow.
"Alex, this isn't a good idea. If you start to do things to me, you're likely to get hurt by mistake. I can't let you much as I want to. Maybe in a couple of days we'll be able to do it properly." Mulder was conscious of his erection, throbbing and hard as he spoke, and wondered why he was turning down Alex's obvious skills. He must be mad!
"Mulder...fuck it, I can't call you Mulder, I really can't. You've been Fox to me in my dreams since that time so long ago when I first offered you my hand and you ignored it. Fox, I want to make you feel good, but I'm not going to be much help to you right now. I want you to touch yourself, and I'll do whatever I can." Mulder, who had winced a little when Alex began calling him Fox, smiled into Alex's eyes.
"It's OK, Alex, you don't have to worry. I'm a big boy. I don't have to get off every time you do. I can control myself." Mulder could feel Alex's fingers, busily tracing lines of sweet heat into his cock as he moved them over the loose skin that covered the rock hardness of the shaft beneath. The temptation to start bucking his hips like crazy threatened to overcome him as he felt the other man's touch.
Alex withdrew his hand and pulled it up to his mouth where he spat, wetting his fingers and deftly spreading the liquid over them. Putting his hand back down, he parted Mulder's thighs and traced the crack of Mulder's ass, pausing to trace little circles over the tight bud of Mulder's asshole. Mulder wanted to feel pressure against his dick. He needed to feel something, anything that would create the friction he so desperately needed. Alex had by this time inserted a finger into Mulder's ass, and was now slipping it in and out. At the end of each stroke he was managing to hit something inside him that sent trails of silvery delight flickering like fire through his nerve endings, making his cock twitch and his body shake.
"Put your hand down, Fox, take hold of yourself. I can't, I've only got one hand..."
Mulder groaned and reached down to take hold of his own swollen penis. As he did so, Alex managed to insert a second finger into Mulder's asshole, and renewed his onslaught on the spot inside him that was giving him such a wonderful sensation. Mulder shouted wordlessly as the pleasure surged through him, coiling in the pit of his stomach, licking at his groin and seething up and down his spine like a fire.
"Come on, Fox! I want you to come for me." The throaty voice tickled over his ears like velvet, and Mulder, hands flying desperately, felt his body lock up as he arched his back and came. Sticky with his ejaculate, he lay panting beside Alex who was pale and shaking, but whose eyes shone with joy and whose lips were crooked in a smile of great sweetness.
Reaching for a Kleenex, Mulder wiped away the worst of the pools of come on his chest and belly, and then the two of them slept, curled up together.
Fox awoke with the shivers. His cold had really taken hold of him now and he felt like death warmed up. His head was pounding and his throat hurt when he swallowed. He knew he had a fever.
Stumbling out of the bed without waking Alex, he staggered as far as the bathroom, where he popped a couple of aspirin and jumped into the shower. Feeling a little better following his ablutions, he combed his hair and wandered into the kitchen to find something for the two of them to eat. The clock on his microwave informed him that it was a little after 7pm, and he wondered whether Scully would be coming over after work.
Right on cue, he heard a knock on the door, and he hurried over to let her in.
"Hi! How are you feeling? How's Krycek?" She entered in her usual brisk, no-nonsense manner, but the look she gave him was kind, and she paused as he closed the door to lay her hand on his forehead. "What are you doing up out of bed? You're running quite a temperature." She studied him with some concern.
"I just got up, Scully. I was hungry. I know Alex will be too when he wakes up. Would you like to share a pizza or something?" She shook her head, smiling, and went into the kitchen to check out the kitchen. Mulder meanwhile had poured himself juice, and was now washing a glass for Alex.
"You don't seem to have anything edible in this kitchen, Mulder. I suppose you'd better order something in for the two of you. I'll check out Krycek, and then go get you some groceries." Mulder flashed her a grateful smile as she spoke. As ever, her sharp words were the cover for kindness.
Reaching for the phone, he ordered in a pizza, and then went back to check on his new lover.
Saturday dawned, cold and blustery. Alex was up, out of bed, prowling around on slightly shaky legs. Once, he began a tai-chi short form, but gave up after a few moves. He would try again when he wasn't feeling quite so unsteady.
He was still wearing Mulder's sweats, and had been able to put on the top, tight though it was on him. He was almost the same height as Mulder, but his frame was heavier, and where Mulder had the lean musculature and slender build of a runner, Krycek was altogether chunkier. His body was powerful, and his build was that of a football player, with long, strong legs, deep chest and slim hips.
As he reflected on his lover's body, he shuddered at the thought of Mulder....Fox, his Fox, leaning over him with tenderness in his eyes. That was worth getting shot for. He sighed. Fox had gone out foraging for breakfast. Both of them were starving, and the small amount of leftover pizza was not going to help them. Krycek opened the fridge and surveyed the remains, and shrugging expressively he grabbed it and devoured it.
Hearing the key in the lock, Alex went to the door, and as Mulder came through it, he took one of the heavy sacks from him. Placing it down on the coffee table, he moved in to kiss his lover.
"Are you OK to be out of bed? How are you feeling?" Mulder's concern was evident in his face as he took stock of Alex's appearance.
Alex was a little pale, but his fever had subsided and he looked much better than the day before. He was newly showered, and his hair, cut at random by Mulder the day before, fluffed out like a dandelion puffball, making him look like a Beatle fan from the 60s. Mulder's heart melted as he gazed at him. He looked incredibly vulnerable with his silly haircut and his bare feet. Mulder knew intellectually that Krycek was not at all helpless, and that he had killed on more than one occasion, but he found that he still had the need to protect this man who had been hurt saving his life.
"Fox, where are my clothes? Much as I'd love you to keep me captive here, these are just a little tight on me, and I don't think it's warm enough to sit around naked." Alex took the cranberry muffin that Mulder was holding out to him, and started to peel off the paper cup prior to devouring it.
"Alex, I'm sorry to have to tell you, your clothes are no longer with us! I had to cut most of them off, and the rest were so plastered with garbage and crud that I had to throw them away." Mulder grinned as he spoke, watching Alex's face fall. "It's OK. You can wear the tight stuff for a few more hours. I want to take you shopping for some clothes. I've been fantasizing getting you into some really nice clothes since I first saw that horrible polyester suit thing you were wearing that day I first met you. If you're up to it, we'll rest up this morning, and then go hit the tailors after lunch."
"You have no idea how long it took me to get those jeans I had on to fit me like that. Now I'm going to have to start breaking in a new pair." Krycek's mournful expression caused Mulder to crack up.
"You know, I think we do still have the jeans, and the shoes are somewhere in the laundry too, but that's pretty much all that survived. I'm looking forward to getting you into some nice clothes. You'd probably better get your hair cut as well, unless you want people to think you are one of the Dead End Kids!"
Mulder sat down beside Krycek, who was working his way through a yoghurt and a couple of bananas by this time. Sliding his arm around him, Mulder nuzzled into his neck, and felt a warm rush of desire hit him as the other man stopped eating and turned towards him, capturing his lower lip between his teeth and then sucking at it.
"Mmmmm...breakfast!" Alex husked as he pushed Mulder backwards on the couch and buried his face into Mulder's neck, licking and nibbling at him.
The afternoon came, and the sun made an appearance, peeping out from behind watery clouds and illuminating the drenched streets in a hopeful way. It had been raining since the night of the shooting, but now the sun made everything look sparkly and clean. Alex, wearing sweats and running shoes that were too tight for him, limped to Mulder's car followed by Mulder himself. Mulder was wearing jeans and a sweater, and was feeling much better today. His nose glowed red, and he had to blow it constantly but otherwise he felt fairly good. Looking at the man who was walking just in front of him he felt even better. Alex had a truly gorgeous ass. Mulder crammed his hands into his pockets in order to keep himself from grabbing that delectable butt, then, reconsidering, he moved forward a couple of paces to do just that, surprising a snort out of Alex as he squeezed gently.
Arriving at the mall, Alex headed towards the "Workwear for Men" store causing Mulder to grab his elbow.
"Oh, no you don't! This is my shopping trip, and I say which store we buy stuff from." Mulder led him away from the workwear store towards an expensive tailors, grinning as he watched the play of emotions on Alex's features.
As they entered the store, the sales assistant moved forward to greet them.
"Mr. Mulder! How nice to see you. How can we help you today?" Mulder indicated Alex, and told the salesman what he wanted, and Alex was borne away to a fitting room to be measured, fitted, and supplied with silk underwear. Mulder watched, lips twitching as Alex was inserted into cream silk boxers, and presented with an array of shirts in linen, silk and cotton to try on. Mutely, he looked at Fox, his eyes appealing for assistance. Finally, Fox took pity on the pathetic looking man who stood surrounded by expensive clothing.
"Alex, I really like the green colours on you. Try this one." Mulder proffered a silk shirt in a shade of olive green that enhanced the colour of Alex's eyes. Drooping, Alex put it on and stood, arms limp while Mulder demanded suits from the salesman. Finally, they settled on an dark olive suit in silk, that would look great with the shirt. The measurements had been taken and the suit promised by four that afternoon. Mulder dragged the wilting man away to the hairdresser. As Krycek sat down in the chair, Mulder explained to his regular hairdresser how he wanted Alex to look. Alex lay back in the hair, closed his eyes and sighed.
Half an hour later, A transformed Alex Krycek was examining his head listlessly as the hairdresser displayed his handiwork. The style was fairly short at the sides, and longer on the top. Hair swept back from Alex's forehead except for the small amount that fell in artfully tumbled strands over his right eyebrow. Looking first at himself, and then up at Fox, he offered a small smile. Mulder was grinning from ear to ear, as he imagined the finished product. His Alex was emerging from his "ugly duckling" protection, and Mulder wanted to take him away and jump on him right then and there.
"God, Alex, you're going to look so good. I just want to eat you." Alex flushed. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed his fatigue, but he was grinning as he replied.
"Any time, Fox, any time at all!"
They left the hairdressers, and headed off looking for shoes to go with Alex's new look. Krycek headed straight for the baseball boots, and once again Mulder had to divert him towards the dress shoes. Finally, they settled on a pair of black leather boots that Alex felt were comfortable, and they headed back to the tailors to pick up Alex's newly altered suit.
Surveying the transformed Alex, Mulder felt certain stirrings, and was thankful that he was sitting down. He hoped that he would be able to get up when the time came for them to leave without displaying his excitement to everyone present. The salesman disappeared off to find a tie for Alex, who was by now feeling very tired.
Wandering over to the couch where his lover was waiting, Alex plonked himself down beside Mulder, and cuddled up, rubbing his cheek against Mulder's leather jacket. Mulder turned to Alex and claimed his mouth in a long, deep kiss, tongue plunging in to revel in the warmth and moisture of Alex. He ran his hands over the silk of the jacket Alex was wearing, and sighed softly.
"God, Alex, you look sensational." Mulder whispered to him as they finally separated. "Now, I suppose you can go home if you want to. You're all brand new and gorgeous."
"Fox, are you telling me that I have to leave your place?" Alex was looking away in the manner that Mulder had come to recognise as his defence against letting his emotions show too clearly. Mulder cupped Alex's chin, turning his face so he could look into his eyes. He could see pain and insecurity in Alex's eyes, before Alex closed them, his impossibly long lashes acting as a veil for the naked emotions he did not want to expose.
"Christ! No! I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay with me forever. It's just that you're going to want to go and fetch your toothbrush, and you might get arrested if you go in the nude. I just wanted to dress you up, Baby. Humour me! My Dad wouldn't let me have a doll when I was a kid. He said they were sissy!" At that point he stopped because Alex had grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in to a hard, passionate kiss.
When the salesman came into the room, the two men were totally oblivious to him as they kissed and groped one another avidly. Returning to the door, he knocked loudly and cleared his throat, making the two of them jump apart guiltily. As they concluded their buisness, and Mulder signed the credit card slip, Alex pressed himself up to his lover, feeling the warmth of his body along his side.
The two men left the store. Mulder was thinking of where to take Alex for dinner, but looking at his tired face and noting the pain in his expression, he quickly changed his plans, leading the still convalescing Alex to his car and heading for the local takeaway.
As they headed for Mulder's apartment, Alex laid his head back against the seat and appeared to fall asleep. Mulder allowed himself the luxury of studying his lover. His lips were parted, his white teeth were just visible, and his glorious eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks, giving him the look of a young boy. His legs were splayed, one booted foot up on the dash and the other tucked into the foot well. Mulder could see the swelling muscles of his legs through the silk, and put his hand down to run the backs of his fingers over the silky fabric. Without opening his eyes, Alex dropped his hand to capture Mulder's, sliding it up to press into his crotch, running it over the bulge there so that Mulder could feel the rapidly hardening cock through the expensive material.
"I like this suit. When we get home, you can take it off me!" Alex's voice had laughter in it, and Mulder accelerated.
"Fox?" The voice was quiet over the hum of the car engine.
"What's the matter, Alex?" Mulder was almost home now, and he dragged his mind back to the task in hand, leaving an image of Alex in silk, dropping to his knees to nuzzle into his groin.
"I can be well dressed and charming when I want to be. If you want me to do it I will, but it's only clothes. I'm not how I look." He broke off, searching for words. "I'm not explaining myself very well. Am I? I'm trying to tell you that I want to be what you want me to be, but I'm myself as well. I don't want you to forget who I am. You might not want who I really am, but...oh, never mind!" His voice trailed off as he realised how confusing he had sounded. "I just don't want you to be disappointed when I don't measure up to what you are looking for. I can wear Armani, but I like my denim and leather. I like my skin too. Don't be upset if I'm not always elegant."
Mulder parked the car in silence and the two of them made their way, unspeaking, up to Mulder's front door. As Mulder closed the door behind them, he turned to Alex, who was looking at him with his heart in his mouth. He put his hands on his new lover's shoulders, pulling in towards him until their lips met, and then offered up his soul to Alex. Slowly, his arms slid around his lover as his tongue ran over the sensitive ridges of his palate, teasing the other man into responding. Mulder sucked on Alex's mouth, finding his tongue and stroking it with his own. He cupped Alex's butt with one hand as he pulled him in to press along the length of him, his cock already stiff and aching for him. Through the silk, he could feel that Alex was in the same condition, and with a small gasping laugh, he slid Alex's jacket off his shoulders without breaking the kiss.
Alex moaned, fumbling his hand up under Mulder's jacket and sweat shirt to find his smooth skin and run across the long muscles of his back. In a few more seconds they separated, and Alex dropped to his knees the way Mulder had been imagining he would, his trembling fingers working the fly of his jeans as he pressed his face into Mulder, inhaling the musk of him while he freed his cock from its confines.
As Alex pulled down his pants, taking hold of his cock and engulfing it with the sweet, wet warmth of his mouth, Mulder felt himself melting. He staggered backwards on legs that would scarcely carry him until he could lean up against the wall. Alex was busily tonguing his penis, and he could feel his control slipping away as the moist tugging on his cock pulled strands of sensation from his genitals to the back of his neck. He felt his balls rising as Alex held them in his hand, pressing and fondling. In another minute, he was spurting his seed out into Alex's mouth, and feeling very much as if he was following it out through the end of his dick. His knees gave way, and he slid down the wall to sit in a heap in front of Alex, gasping helplessly as the other man grinned at him.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Mulder croaked, once he had recovered his breath.
"I know what you do to me. It seems only fair." The husky whisper caressed his ears as he sat, still recovering from his orgasm. "Thank you for my new image, Fox. I confess I was a little dubious, but it works. I like it. But you know, next time we go shopping, I'm going to get *you* a new look! It won't be Armani, but you're going to look hot!"
The End
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