No Trouble Atoll
Author/Pseudonym: Ursula

Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
Rating: adult slash sexual situations
Status: Finished
Date Posted:
Archive: X-Files Fuq-U-Fest first
E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie or Ursula4X@aol.com
Classification: Slash, humor, romance
Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series:
Web Site: http://www.fhsarchive.com/ursula/
Main FHSA Site: http://www.fhsarchive.com/
Mirror Site: http://fhsarchive.popullus.org
Disclaimers: Let me check my pockets. I must have the receipt for the X Files somewhere. Oops, I guess it must belong to someone else. Darn.
Notes: For Peta's challenge: 5. Alternate Universe. Your chosen couple are among those in a plane crash. The plane crashes on one of those islands that no one's ever been to (actually possible, there are a group of islands called `The Thousand Islands' - they'd have to be going either to or from Australia to pass over them, though). How do they get together, when they keep getting on each other's nerves?
Warnings: Schmoop, Fuq-cannon
Time Frame: Left of never never


No Trouble Atoll
by Ursula

Dragging Alex by his handcuffed hands, Mulder bullied his way through the mob of consternated tourists. He arrived at the front desk and said, "What in the hell do you mean? The airport can't be closed."

"We have a bomb threat," the man announced. He was a thin, wiry guy, wearing a pastel blue dress shirt, his tie unfastened in the heat.

"A bomb threat?" Mulder repeated. "Here?"

"I know, sir, this is highly unusual. The planes will be grounded briefly. Meanwhile, the airlines are issuing free vouchers for hotel rooms. Think of it as an additional day of vacation on us," the man said smoothly.

"Wait a minute. Why does it take an entire day to look for a bomb?" Mulder said.

"We have never had a problem like this and we have never had an airplane disaster. We will not start today," the man said with the devotion usually shown only to religion or political beliefs.

"But . . ." Mulder sputtered.

"Here is the best voucher we have left, a honeymoon suite for you and your lovely companion," the clerk said, handing Mulder a large pink envelope. "I envy you, Sir, and I don't blame you for wanting to keep him...close to you."

The handcuffs changed under the clerk's salacious gaze into something kinky and charged. Mulder fought the urge to grab the key, take off the cuffs, and throw them at the man.

Mulder's eyes traveled from the clerk, who had a hungry expression on his face to Krycek, who was looking down, blushing slightly, and peering through his eyelashes like a Texas beauty queen.

"He's not!" Mulder yelped. "It's not what you think."

"Of course not, Sir," the clerk said. "Now if you will move on, there are other customers awaiting service."

"I'm not leaving until you put me on a plane..." Mulder shouted.

A security guard appeared from nowhere and slapped a strong hand on Mulder's arm, guiding him out of the airport to the courtesy cars outside.

Krycek craned his neck over to peer at the pink envelope and said, "I wonder if it has a heart shaped bed? I've always wanted to sleep in a heart shaped bed."

Outraged, Mulder felt like punching Krycek in the stomach, but since the very large guard was still watching closely, chose self-restraint. Having experienced a straitjacket on more than one occasion, Mulder found that self-restraint was sometimes the only viable option.

"We are not going to a hotel, heart shaped bed or not," Mulder declared. "If I have to beg, borrow, or steal an airplane, we are going today. If we miss this flight, we are stuck in Australia for three more days."

"Shit, Mulder, what's your hurry? The aliens are gone. The conspiracy is dead. Lighten up," Krycek said.

"It's not over until you are sitting in prison where you belong. Remember I promised you a cell with a guy named Bubba . . . there's your honeymoon suite," Mulder said.

At this point, a man with thinning red hair sidled up. He wrinkled his nose and said, "I heard what you said about wanting a flight out. I may be able to help you for a price."

Mulder drew Krycek closer and said, "I'm interested. What's the deal?"

"I have a small cargo plane, a sea plane. I can give you a ride over to the mainland. Cost you a thousand bucks," the man said.

"A thousand bucks? That's extortion!" Mulder said.

"Take it or leave it, mate," the man said. "I'm only offering to be helpful to a fellow American. The name's Denver, Denver Smith. So what's it going to be?"

"I'll take it," Mulder said, wriggling his hand into Krycek's pockets. "Why the hell do you wear these so tight?" Mulder complained.

"To keep guys I don't want out of them!" Krycek answered, trying to pull away. "That's my money!"

"Just think of this as payback," Mulder said, sweetly, extracting a number of large bills from Krycek's pocket.

"Bastard," Krycek muttered.

"That's a matter of record now," Mulder replied.

"I have to go to the john," Krycek said.

"Again?" Mulder asked, as he waved the money at the red haired pilot.

"I wouldn't have to go as much if you hadn't punched me in the kidneys," Krycek complained.

"Whine, whine, whine, you used to bitch because I never took you any place," Mulder said.

"Shut the fuck up, Mulder," Krycek said.

Mulder gave him an extra jerk on his cuffed hands for the profanity. He might as well enjoy this while he could.

Krycek opened his zipper with some difficulty. His left arm was flesh and blood again, but he seemed to have difficulty controlling it. Mulder would love to know how Alex had arranged for a new limb. The son of a bitch had a secret like that and had kept it to himself. Selfish son of a bitch.

"Stop looking at me," Krycek complained.

Mulder's slight discomfort vanished like that. If it was bothering Krycek, he was going to enjoy the situation. He ogled Krycek's cock without shame and said, "Ha, and here I've always called you a little prick. I'll have to tell people that you are one of the bigger pricks I've ever known."

"Mulder, that's sexual harassment," Krycek said.

"You going to report me, Krycek?" Mulder asked, enjoying himself. He pressed up close to Krycek's back, a little surprised when his cock jumped as he contacted Krycek's plush ass. Only bravado kept him from leaping back in shock at this interesting response from his body.

"I should," Krycek said, finally managing to let loose of his stream.

Close enough so he was sure that Krycek could feel the hot puff of his breath against his neck, Mulder asked, "You want me to shake it off for you?"

"No," Krycek squeaked.

Damn, that was cute. And fun. Mulder had forgotten how much fun the Fox had playing with the rat.

"Come on, Krycek," Mulder said, "We have to see a man about a plane."

"Not before I wash my hands," Krycek said primly, reminding Mulder of the young agent he had briefly known.

"All the perfumes of Arabia," Mulder shot back, but let Krycek make his way over to the sink.

They found the red haired pilot lounging just outside the door. He said, "If you're coming, come now. There's a storm on the horizon."

Mulder nearly changed his mind when he saw the plane. It was a small cargo plane, painted a bilious green and sporting what appeared to be patches. There was some kind of fluid dripping from the plane onto the tarmac. The pontoons seemed to sag in place, making Mulder doubt that the plane was either sea worthy or air worthy.

Krycek snarled, "No way in fucking hell am I getting on that thing."

That capped it. If Krycek didn't want to go, Mulder decided they must board this plane.

"Oh, Krycek, is him scared?" Mulder asked. "Don't worry I'll hold your hand."

With that, Mulder dragged Krycek into the plane. They were wedged onto a tiny bench between the pilot's seat and a small cargo area. The plane reeked inside. Mulder did not want to try to identify the smells, but they were many and potent. Krycek gagged and this time, Mulder had only sympathy for his prisoner.

Krycek continued to look very ill. Mulder assured, "Take it easy, Krycek. You aren't going to throw up, are you? It's a very short flight."

Krycek merely looked back at him with a doleful look in his big green eyes.

OooOooO

The plane felt like the time that Alex slid down the hill in one of those plastic saucers. It had gone astray, turning off the smooth slope to an area of partially cleared brush. Alex had thought he was going to piss his pants every time another jolt shook him. Finally, he had hit a stump and had been ejected, face forward into the snow.

Only this was much worse. Mulder was insane, but Alex had always known that. It took all of Alex's willpower not to lose his lunch all over his captor. The only thing that kept him from barfing was the fear that if he threw up, Mulder would also vomit. Two nauseous men in such close quarters would be unbearable.

Shit, Alex thought he smelled gas through the ripe odors of the plane. He said, "Hey, Denver, do you smell gas?"

"Maybe," the man said. "It's a bloody old engine. Stinks, but I haven't crashed yet."

"That's comforting," Alex said, but the gas smell grew stronger and was joined by the distinct odor of something burning.

"Here, mate, you just sit up here and keep your hands on the stick. I'll have a look at the engine," Denver said.

Oh shit, the pilot was actually turning the controls over to Mulder, who certainly didn't know how to fly a plane. In fact, Alex didn't even trust Mulder behind the wheel of a car!

The pilot lifted a tarp like flap and disappeared behind it. A moment later, Alex heard a curse. Denver hurried back and said, "I'll have to bring her down on that atoll. Don't worry. I've done this before."

Oh shit. Alex had been looking forward to a life of idle sloth, interspersed with all the things he had never been allowed to do as a Consortium agent, including finally getting laid. Well, getting laid by what Alex had always suspected was the right sex for him. All this time he had hidden his attraction to other men, not wanting to give Spender any more tools to use against him.

Now, retired, Alex had planned to explore the wild side, lose his last few cherries and spend his days fuck drunk.

Damn Mulder. Wasn't it like him to drag Alex right out of paradise to die on a rattling bucket of bolts that smelled badly of fish?

"Heads, down!" Denver yelled.

That was right. Time to kiss his ass goodbye, Alex thought.

Denver's vocabulary was spectacular as he cursed in accompaniment to the bucking, spinning, bone-breaking maneuvers of the plane.

Alex felt himself thrown to the floor. Mulder's weight landed on top of him. His handcuffed hand, the left one, was wrenched in ways flesh and bone, even flesh and bone reconstituted by alien technology, was not meant to go.

Another turbulent move and Alex's head was battered back into Mulder and subsequently into the floor. He actually saw both stars and little twittering birds before he passed out.

0ooOooO

Hell was wet and briny. When Alex fought his way to the surface, it smelt of fish and airplane fuel.

Worse, his punishment was to eternally experience having his arm sawed off by Russian peasants.

His little nose caught a fresh draught of the odoriferous fluid before he sank under the waves again. Shit, he was drowning. He opened his eyes and saw that he was only at the antechamber of hell. All he had to do was knock to see the devil, but he wasn't in that much of a hurry.

After a second struggle to the surface, Alex realized that what was holding him down was Mulder. They were still connected by the handcuffs and Mulder was either unconscious or dead. His limp weight was pulling Alex down.

Alex pulled Mulder's head above the surface of the water.

Gazing about, Alex saw that the two of them were nowhere near the plane, which was bobbing, surprisingly intact closer to shore than they were.

The door was hanging open and Denver's head could be seen as he threw stuff desperately out of the plane. Alex suspected that was how he and Mulder arrived in the ocean.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Alex yelled. "You can't leave us here!"

"I patched the fuel tank," Denver shouted back, "but there's not enough fuel for the plane to get back in the air loaded with cargo and passengers. Don't you worry! I'll come back and get you. Swim for shore!" Denver called out.

Alex kicked in the direction of the plane, but Mulder's unconscious body held him back. Mulder was coughing and spluttering now, but his struggles made it more difficult to swim than towing his limp body.

Before Alex was even a few feet nearer the sea plane, it took to the air, leaving cargo floating around in its wake.

"Fuck you!" Alex said, sparing a breath to express his heartfelt feelings toward their erstwhile pilot.

Mulder went limp again as one of the boxes impacted his skull. Of course! It was some kind of natural law that Mulder would be knocked unconscious in any given situation.

Christ!

Well, there was nothing else to do, but to swim toward the shore. It wasn't far and damned if Alex was going to drown after all he had been through!

After a few moments of effort, Alex felt his feet touch bottom. The sharp spike of hope was dashed when a wave knocked him back into the water with Mulder's dead weight dragging at him. Alex lost all of his progress and was back into deep and turbulent water. His arm screamed with pain.

Realizing he couldn't make it to the beach encumbered by Mulder, Alex frantically tried to keep afloat as he searched Mulder's pockets for the key to the handcuffs. God, there it was. Alex fumbled at the lock and felt his heart leap when the cuff opened. He was free.

Although he seldom swam for recreation since his original arm had been lost, Alex was a strong swimmer. Without Mulder dragging him down, he could get to shore.

Paddling away, Alex could see the pinched expression on Mulder's face as he slid under.

Oh shit. He couldn't do it. Alex stroked his way to Mulder, grabbed him, and flipped backwards, holding Mulder's face out of the water like a baby to a mother's breast.

"Damn, you Mulder, why do I keep risking my ass for you? Here we go again," Alex grumbled.

It seemed like hours before he reached land. He collapsed for a while in exhaustion before dragging Mulder and himself further onto dry land. Alex was too tired to run. He was chilled to the core and wrapped himself around Mulder to rest. Mulder snuggled up to him, making a very good teddy bear. He even smiled and not the cold ironic smile with which he occasionally mocked Alex.

Although it would have been easier to just go to sleep, Alex had second thoughts. He knew they would be better off without the wet clothing. Direct body heat would warm them quickly and the beach sand, which was already heating from the sun would do the rest.

Mulder wasn't too nice about being undressed; managing to punch Alex even while mostly unconscious, but finally they were both naked. Alex resumed his former position and Mulder cooperated sweetly. Too bad he had to wake up.

OooOooO

Mulder was having a delightfully erotic dream in which a naked Mister Spock danced enticingly to the sound of a Vulcan harp. He was about to beckon the object of his lust over to consummate all the unresolved sexual tension when he realized his cock was already engaged or at least, was rubbing between two soft skinned ass cheeks. The only disappointing thing was that both he and his partner reeked of airplane fuel and were covered with grit. Friction would not have been a good thing at this point.

A few moments exploration revealed that the naked nymph in his arms was Alex Krycek.

Spluttering in dismay, Mulder flung himself away from the suddenly less than enticing body and yelled, "What the fuck did you do, Krycek? Where are my clothes? I'm going to kill you!"

Dropping back onto Krycek, Mulder slugged him. He was somewhat surprised to be hit back.

Krycek yelled, "I should have left you in the dammed ocean. I should have thrown you back in!"

It took a couple of repetitions to penetrate Mulder's brain. The sharp blow to his stomach might have helped make the concept clear as well. Now the memory of the plane landing in the ocean came back to him. The only thing he couldn't figure out was how he got to shore. He didn't remember swimming here.

However, this was no time to stop and think about it. Krycek was throwing another punch.

"Stop," Mulder yelled, finally getting Krycek pinned beneath him. "Hold still and I'll stop hitting you."

Panting, Mulder concentrated on keeping Krycek under him, wishing that his cock would stop getting the wrong idea. Krycek bucked and cursed a while longer before collapsing with a weak "Fuck you, Mulder."

As soon as Krycek subsided, Mulder rolled off him and rapidly walked away, grabbing a pile of clothing as he went. Taking note of a number of objects bobbing in the ocean, Mulder didn't want to look closely for fear that one of them might be Denver's body. The plane must have gone under. He was alone on a desert island with his worst enemy.

Worse, Mulder was already horny. Brushes with death could do that to a man, he assured himself. It had nothing to do with naked Krycek rubbing all over him.

After scanning the horizon for any sign of the plane, Mulder gave up. Perhaps this island was inhabited. Mulder glanced at Krycek who seemed determined to remain sprawled on the sand and shrugged. There was no point in trying to hold Krycek captive now. Everything was screwed up.

OooOooO

Was there a place on his body that wasn't sore? Alex didn't think so. He stayed where he was in misery for a few moments until a crab almost crawled up his ass. Shrieking in very girly way that he hoped Mulder hadn't heard, Alex scrambled to his feet and ran for the pile of clothing.

Oh fuck again. Mulder had grabbed Alex's pants. When Alex tried to put on Mulder's jeans, they stuck at his thighs. Mulder had no ass and slim hips. No way in hell would he fit the tight fitting jeans. Flinging them away, Alex had to be content with his boxers and shirt.

A few moments to collect his wits and Alex's survival instincts kicked in. Who knew how long they would be stranded here?

May as well see whether any of the flotsam and jetsam was useful.

Grunting with labor, every sore muscle straining, Alex dragged in whatever he could find. There were several crates, a tarp that had floated because it was caught on a bobbing box, and a scattering of clothing. A small case floated up to his hand. It held various personal supplies, including shaving gear and a lifetime supply of Vaseline. Another box disappointingly appeared to contain glossy girly magazines. Mulder would be happy. He would not have to go without his porn.

By the time Alex was finished, he was horribly thirsty. He had his priorities screwed up. He should have been looking for water.

Mulder arrived, Alex's jeans held on his lean body by a length of rope. "The plane went down," Mulder said.

"No, it didn't," Alex replied. "Your friend, Denver, dumped us out of the plane along with the rest of his cargo. He repaired the fuel leak, but took off without us. He said he would be back, but..."

"You don't think he will," Mulder said. "Fuck. I chose the only man on earth with fewer scruples than you."

"How is it that when you make a mistake and drag me into it, it's somehow my fault?" Alex shot back.

Mulder was momentarily rendered speechless and, thankfully, he didn't resort to using his fists in lieu of words. He opened and shut his mouth a couple times and then chose to ignore Alex's complaint.

"You thirsty? I found water. And if we figure out how to get one, there's a wild pig or two around," Mulder said.

"Yeah, I'm thirsty," Alex admitted. "But we might as well see what's in the rest of these boxes first."

"Alex?" Mulder said, his voice oddly uncertain.

"Yeah?" Alex answered, automatically eying Mulder's hands in anticipation of a blow.

"Thanks for dragging me to shore," Mulder said.

"We were handcuffed together," Alex said. "Didn't have a choice."

No need to tell Mulder that he had gone back for him even after he had freed himself. Alex didn't want Mulder looking too closely at his motivations for saving him, not when Alex wasn't sure what they were himself.

"Well, thanks anyway," Mulder said.

Grabbing a big rock, Alex knocked part of the crate lid loose and used part of it to finish prying open the box. "Hey, chocolate, American Chocolate. Denver must have been trying to beat the import tax! And rum. Yo ho ho! I'm going get blasted and hope when I wake up some hunky sailor has rescued me."

What a funny look that was on Mulder's face!

OooOooO

Before Mulder could object, Alex grabbed a bottle of rum and a large box of chocolate bars. He walked over to a large tree and flopped down. At least, the island seemed to have a good climate. Mulder had already found water and there must be edible plant life in all that abundance of green. Alex already knew that there were plenty of fish in the ocean. They wouldn't starve to death; they would probably end up killing each other instead.

"Alex, shouldn't we find shelter?" Mulder asked.

"No point. We're fucked. Any minute now a crocodile will come along and bite off some part of my anatomy and an aborigine will thump you on the head and inject you with some mysterious potion," Alex said. "It's fate."

"Krycek . . ." Mulder said, but Alex wasn't going to listen. "Come on, Alex. We can't just give up. How do we even know that this is an uninhabited island? I only went a short way; there might be a village on the other side. We should walk around it. If we climbed that peak, we should be able to see the entire island."

"You walk around," Alex said. "I'm going to follow an old Russian custom and get plowed. Wake me if a ship shows up."

Bristling, Mulder stomped over to find his pants. After considerable shaking and brushing, they were wearable until he had a chance to wash them. He thought about dumping Alex's jeans back in the ocean, but decided that was a bit petty even for himself in this peeved mood. Generously, he decided to finish checking through all of boxes before beating the crap out of Alex.

There wasn't too much useful stuff besides the chocolate and rum. Alex had already collected Denver's shaving kit and a small box of first aid supplies. Denver's clothing wasn't in either of their sizes, but they could do something with it. Mulder found a stash of heroin and struggled to build a fire to dispose of it. Alex swaggered over, the rum still in hand. "What'cha doing, Mulder?"

"I want to start a fire," Mulder said. "I saw this done at the university. Rubbing two sticks together. I'm going to burn this junk. I don't want to be dealing with a junkie when I'm trying to survive."

"You're full of shit, Mulder. If I could get through having my arm cut off without getting addicted to painkillers afterward, I'm not likely to start on the stuff now. You want to burn it? Watch me. I can start a fire with two sticks," Alex said, squatting down. He whipped out a packet of waterproof matches from his shirt pocket and lit some dry tinder. "If one of the sticks is a match. I always carried these. You didn't want to be around old Smokey if he couldn't find a light."

"I didn't want to be around him. Period," Mulder said.

With a shudder, Alex said, "Me, neither."

The two of them watched the heroin shoot up in bright blue flames.

"Pretty," Alex remarked.

Watching the play of the light on Alex's face, Mulder said, "Very pretty."

Taken back by his own response, Mulder put out the fire and said, "I'm going to explore some more. Climb that little peak and see what I can spot."

"I'll go to," Alex announced.

"I thought you were going to get drunk?" Mulder said.

"Later," Alex said. "I still am. Later. I'm going with you. If you spot a way off this island, I know you would just leave me here. Just like you did in Russia." He made a point of cupping his restored left arm.

"That wasn't my fault," Mulder said. "I wouldn't have left you there if I had known and I won't leave you here if I spot a way to be rescued. I owe you for saving my ass out there in the water."

Looking deep into the changing lights of those green smoke eyes, Mulder said, "Alex, we're in this together. Let's bury the hatchet until we get off this island. Deal?"

"Deal," Alex agreed.

Mulder tried to ignore how relieved he was to hear Alex say that. He knew he would need Alex for company at the least and who knew what hidden dangers there were on this seemingly peaceful island? Two people would be much better than one; after all, even Robinson Crusoe had his man, Friday.

"Mulder?" Alex said.

Mulder waited for Alex to speak, nervous about what the man would say.

Alex said, "Don't touch me again."

Now that was interesting. Mulder smirked at Alex and said "You keep saying that like you mean it. What the hell do you mean? Are you afraid I'm going to jump your bones?"

A quick, elusive look and then Alex was staring fixedly away.

"Maybe you're wishing," Mulder said. "Don't worry, Alex. Your virtue . . ." He couldn't help an ironic laugh at that. "is safe with me."

Offended, Alex stalked off. He shot over his shoulder, "If you end up with something broken, you're going to wish you saved some of that junk."

"What makes you think I'm going to break something?" Mulder asked.

"Because the only one with worse luck than you is me," Krycek said.

"Geez, go on a pity party, why don't you?" Mulder commented, hurrying to keep up with Krycek. The guy could walk damn fast for someone who swung his hips like a girl.

"I deserve some pity," Krycek said. "I was retired, you dumb fuck. I was going to spend the rest of my life, drinking, screwing, and getting massages. And then you show up."

"I was after justice," Mulder said.

"Not to mention truth and the American way?" Alex said. "Look, I was never even really on the inside. I was an errand boy, Mulder, until I made the mistake of asking too many questions."

"Move your ass, errand boy," Mulder sneered. "We have an island to explore."

OooOooO

As far as the eye could see, was ocean. Alex had a vain hope that they were stranded on a peninsula as had happened to a set of supposed castaways in a movie he had once watched. He could see that he and Mulder possessed one stream, two ponds, a few acres of trees and not much else. There was no sign of habitation except some sagging metal buildings on the opposite side of the island from which they had landed.

Without discussion, Mulder and Alex headed for this sign of habitation.

Once they arrived, it was obvious that this was a left over World War Two military installation, one of many temporary footholds on the myriad islands that were only inhabited during the war.

Two smaller sheds had given up the ghost, but the largest building was intact.

Mulder pointed at that and said, "Let's go check that out. We might be able to shelter there if it's not too bad."

"Okay," Alex agreed. He was tired enough now that he could have slept on the beach, crabs up his ass and all, but shelter sounded good. He had no fondness for sleeping beneath the stars.

The metal hut seemed to have been left over from World War Two. Alex gave the wall a kick or two and was satisfied that it wasn't going to fall on them in the middle of the night. It was the most inhabitable place on the island with access to the beach and not far from the larger pond. There were some coconut palms swaying at the edge of the clearing and the beach was reasonably smooth.

Alex's body ached pretty much everywhere. He could feel grit he had missed when he shook his clothing out. Everything really needed a good washing. Alex spotted a couple of metal tubs that would be helpful. That way they could have a bath or wash clothing without going to the creek that ran along the edge of the clearing.

"We better go get our stuff," Alex said. He grabbed a rope and a door from a smaller shed that hadn't survived the test of time. Squatting, he rigged the rope to the door. "We can use this as a travois and carry it all back here at once."

Mulder's eyes narrowed as if Alex had offended him, but he knelt to help rig the travois. Grudgingly, Mulder said, "Good idea, Alex."

As they finished and set out, Mulder commented, "I would have figured out if you hadn't said something first."

That was beneath notice. Alex grimaced. Nothing like sweat and sand in your crack. He needed a bath and was going to take one before he slept.

OooOooO

Working in silence, the two of them loaded the travois. Alex had his back up, his eyes warily watching Mulder every time he moved.

It made Mulder feel oddly guilty instead of the pleasure that he felt in the past when Krycek winced in anticipation of a blow or ducked away when Mulder moved quickly.

Having gone through the boxes, Mulder grumbled, "There isn't a lot of real food. We can't live on rum and chocolate."

"Oh, but it might be fun trying," Alex purred.

"Since when are you a hedonist? The one thing I always respected about you was that you were tough. You could take a licking," Mulder said.

"Mulder, if it wasn't for you, I might be taking a licking right now. I had a date with a doe eyed twenty something island boy, who I already know, is very, very oral," Alex replied, a disdainful look cast over his shoulder. "It's your turn to pull the travois, by the way."

"You have some reason for talking about your sex life, Alex," Mulder shot at him. "You trying to turn me on?"

"If you hadn't interfered, I'd be having a sex life, instead of talking about one," Alex said sulkily. "You think I had time for sex when I was either running errands for Spender or running away from the homicidal old bastards? A roll in the hay with Marita or some other project bitch or some woman I picked up for the night. That's not my idea of sex life."

"So when did you switch teams, Alex?" Mulder asked. He grunted as he tried to pull the load over a big rock. Alex bent down to lift the slab of metal over the obstacle.

"I've always looked, Mulder," Alex said, "Wondered, but it was sucky enough working for the old men without having them look down on me because I was gay."

"Oh, discrimination?" Mulder said, "Gee, and hear I thought the project was an enlightened employer. You didn't even have to be human, not that I'm sure you are."

"Fuck you, Mulder," Alex said.

"Hey, I'm just gathering information. Who knows? If we're here long enough, I might have a practical application for all of this. You and your pretty ass might come in handy," Mulder said.

A snort, incongruous coming from such a tiny little nose, greeted Mulder's comment. Alex tossed his head, probably unaware that he was acting flirtatious. "What makes you think that I would ever let you so much as touch me much less fuck me?"

"I remember the way you used to look at me at times," Mulder said.

"A guy likes to keep an eye on a nutcase like you," Alex answered.

"I don't think that's what it was," Mulder replied, although he wasn't entirely certain. "Besides, why not? We might be here a long time. You plan on going without sex if we're here for months?"

"I've done it before," Alex said. "Just don't think that because I'm gay or bi or whatever, that you can just jump my bones and then treat me like a scumbag afterwards. I'm not that easy."

Laughing, Mulder said, "Well, I have rum and chocolate. I might be able to woo you."

"Yeah?" Alex said, sounding curiously hopeful.

Mulder could have told Alex that he wasn't serious. He liked talking about sex more than he liked doing it sometimes. Sex was so complicated. When he was younger and the need was more persistent, he had made his share of mistakes. He wasn't totally insensitive so he hadn't quite jumped out of bed when he realized he had totally lost interest in the girl he was with as soon as he had came, but his lack of interest had been too often noted. As he grew older, it was easier to let his mind play with ideas, most of which he probably would never try. Porn didn't mind being turned off the moment he was done.

Still, there was something softer in Alex's eyes when he looked at Mulder. Mulder could tell Alex was seriously considering being wooed and being fucked by Mulder. Suddenly, that didn't seem to be such a bad idea.

OooOooO

It was dusk by the time the place was set up to their satisfaction. Mulder had set up his bed in one corner and Alex in the other. It pissed Mulder off when Alex rearranged their few possessions to barricade his makeshift sleeping arrangements from Mulder's view. Deliberately, Mulder walked over, sat on a crate, and dangled his feet nearly in Alex's face.

"Something you want?" Alex asked, in an exhausted sounding voice.

"Yeah," Mulder said, "What's with all of this? Are you afraid I'm going to jump you in the middle of the night?"

"Maybe," replied Alex. "I wouldn't put it past you. Why did you have to drag me away with you? I was dead to you. Wasn't that enough?"

"I don't know. It wasn't finished," Mulder answered, his brow furrowing in thought. "There was something that I needed."

A throb from his dick as Alex turned to face him, the canvas tarp blanket falling away to display naked flesh. Even in the dim light, Mulder saw a lot that he liked.

"You ever been fucked?" Mulder asked.

"Get away from me, Mulder," Alex snarled.

"No, I mean it," Mulder reassured. "Come on, Alex, I'm bored."

"No," Alex said.

"No, you won't tell me or no, you haven't been?" Mulder said.

"No, I have not been fucked nor have I fucked a guy. I was hoping that Julio would let me sometime soon," Alex said.

"You'd be bored with some pretty vapid young thing," Mulder replied. "I think you have it wrong anyway. I think you would love being fucked."

"How would you know?" Alex asked.

Mulder smiled. He said, "I've never been afraid to face something different. You're a chicken, Alex, but I knew that."

"I am not," Alex replied, sitting up, pretty mouth twisting into a sulk.

"Then let me," Mulder said, looking at the lovely body just out of his reach. "If you let me, I might let you."

"Jesus, Mulder, leave me alone," Alex replied.

Hmm, very interesting, Mulder thought. He saw the light in Alex's eyes. You know, it might be more fun to fuck him then to hit him.

Being trapped here might have its points. Alex was very pretty and seducing him was a challenge.

Mulder smirked and said, "All right, Alex, but I'm not giving up. A guy needs sex, you know, and I think you are very, very sexy."

"Really?" Alex replied, then shut up and blushed. "You're fucking with me."

"Not yet," Mulder said, "but soon."

This might be just what Mulder needed. Life suddenly had the zest he had been missing.

OooOooO

Zest or not, Mulder had imagined that they would be on the island for a few days and then be rescued.

It had been a week. Denver must have either wrecked the plane after dumping them or perhaps, he had second thoughts about coming back for them. The authorities wouldn't take kindly to a pilot abandoning his passengers, much less finding out about all the stuff Denver was smuggling into Australia.

After the initial work of setting up the shelter, there wasn't, in Mulder's opinion, a lot to do.

Hedonist Alex had yielded to hard-working Alex after the shock of being ship-wrecked had worn off.

They had built a latrine out of the remaining parts of the smaller sheds. They had salvaged additional supplies, including a vast store of canvas from the abandoned military supplies. A number of tools had been left and some of them were usable.

The two of them had constructed some spears out of some bayonet points they had found in a box. They had hopes of killing one of the wild pigs, but so far, had not had any success. The pigs seemed dangerous, moving in large herds with fierce boars to protect the sows and piglets.

Mulder was bored with the mundane tasks of life on the island. He couldn't understand how Alex could accept this fate as complacently as he seemed to be.

"Fish again," Mulder asked, seeing Alex cooking something.

"Nope, oysters," Alex said. "Wish we had some butter."

"Oysters still sound good," Mulder said. "You know what they say about oysters? Think you can handle me?"

"Mulder," Alex said, "Mulder, where do you get off . . ."

At Mulder's puckish grin, Alex stopped. He had an amusing expression as if he had just heard what he said. "Well, I don't care where you get off, just as long as it's not with me."

"Why now?" Mulder teased. "I'm hung. I'm creative and passionate. You would love it."

"Yeah, maybe, and then you would somehow blame me for seducing you," Alex said.

Turning back to his work, Alex poked at the oysters he was steaming. He was wearing nothing but boxers, his back a lovely straight line leading to the round curve of his ass and his long legs. He had a halo around him from the fire, a warm glow that seemed to embrace him as Mulder longed to do.

Suddenly the idea of seducing Alex seemed less a game than a necessity. "I wouldn't blame you," Mulder said. "I'm not like that. Alex, I know it's my fault we are here. I'm sorry. I don't even know what was in my head. There's nothing left to prosecute you for."

"So you dragged me away," Alex said, glancing over his shoulder. "I don't understand. I left. I went to the ends of the earth to make sure I wasn't around to remind you of the past. You should have been able to go on with your life."

Oh damn, Mulder found himself blurting out, "I didn't have one. A life. From the time I was a kid, I had the same goal, find Samantha, prove the aliens existed. I never thought past that. Then it was over. Samantha was dead. The aliens were defeated."

"You had Scully," Alex shot back. "You had a kid."

"Scully had the kid," Mulder said. "I didn't have either of them. I didn't fit in her life, not the one she wanted at this point in her life. She kicked me out. She said I couldn't settle down and I would be a bad influence on William. She's seeing someone else, a professor who never brings messes into her life, someone reliable. She said she could never make me happy and I ended up agreeing with her. She said someday I would find what I needed and she wanted me to be free when it came along."

"Scully had a good point," Alex said. He looked up at Mulder for a moment, scowling slightly. After a moment, he shrugged, returning his attention to the task at hand.

"So why did you come after me," Alex asked, shoving the oysters away from the fire. "These are done; they're open. We'll just let them cool a little."

"I don't suppose you found oyster crackers to go with them?" Mulder asked.

"No, Mulder, the oyster cracker tree is out of season," Alex retorted. "We can make do. Answer my question. Why me? Why hunt me down? You know I didn't kill your father; you know I helped clean up the mess the project made. There aren't any charges against me. Not anymore. Everyone just wants to forget about the past. Everyone, but you."

"Don't pretend to be innocent," Mulder said. "I know you were in deep. I could have proved it."

"Proved what? To whom? No one wants to dredge up that old business; it's over, swept under the carpet," Alex said, sitting down next to Mulder on the log they used as a dining area. "What did you think to accomplish by dragging me away in handcuffs? Shit, I guess I could have pressed kidnap charges against you if you succeeded in bringing me back to the United States."

"I knew you wouldn't," Mulder said. "You would react just as you did, cooperate, validate me." Mulder leaned closer to Alex to check the oysters on the flat piece of wood they used for a serving dish. They were still too hot to eat.

"I would VALIDATE you?" Alex yelled. "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"Take me seriously," Mulder replied. "Treat me as if I had power over you. I would have been the person I used to be in your eyes."

"Oh shit, Mulder," Alex moaned. "Yeah, well, even it that's true, you have to let it go. Let the past go."

"I could if I had something to look forward to," Mulder said.

"Fucking me isn't another quest, Mulder," Alex replied. "It would just be another disappointment to you."

"Right," Mulder said. "Like you know what I feel and want."

More gently than Alex usually spoke, he said, "Just help me eat these oysters, Mulder. I think you were in the sun too much today."

There was nothing to do but eat oysters. Damn fine oysters, even without butter.

OooOooO

Fucking Mulder, Alex had almost forgotten him. No, that was a lie. Alex never could entirely let him go. Alex had kept Mulder as his icon, a painted image that he could never touch or hold. As long as Alex had Mulder as the gold standard for his life, he could pretend that was the reason that he didn't have anyone in his life. Dreaming of giving Mulder his cherry was so much better than anything he ever encountered in his life. All the women never counted. They were entertainment, relief, part of the spy business, a necessary evil. The time would come when Mulder would reach of him and then, oh then...

When it was over, Alex had waited a while as if the fairy tale he had spun would now happen. Only, Mulder and Scully were together. John and Monica were together. Everybody but Walter and him had someone. Poor Skinner still lusted after Scully, it was almost enough to make Alex sorry for him except that Alex felt a hell of a lot more sorry for himself.

Finally, Alex woke up and realized he was a big boy and had to give up his childish dreams. Mulder was with Scully. There was never going to be that magical moment when some god-like writer re-wrote the script and gave Alex his charming prince.

So Alex had drifted for a while, trying to decide what to do with the rest of his life. It was not as if he wasn't grateful to be alive. It was just that he never expected to survive so he was a bit at loose ends. He didn't stop watching Mulder. That was too engrained a habit. He no longer hoped that Mulder would miss him and come looking for him though. He just watched.

Finally, one day when he had been haplessly following Mulder around, Alex ducked into a travel shop when Mulder turned around suddenly. The travel agent had latched onto him like a shark and, before he knew it, he was booked for Australia. Well why not? It was the traditional exile for men who did not fit any place else in the world. Alex figured he would hang around on the beach, find pretty boys to be his pretty toys, and let his life float away in a golden haze.

Then Mulder happened.

Alex had always liked Robinson Crusoe, but he had never thought he would play the role of Man Friday to Mulder's Crusoe. He wasn't the most perfect Man Friday . . . so far he hadn't met Mulder's expressed needs.

Hmm . . .

"Hey, Mulder, do you think Robinson Crusoe got it on with Man Friday?" Alex asked.

Mulder looked like a replete sea otter, especially since he had Alex hack off his hair with a knife yesterday. It was spiked as an otter's fur, a thoroughly shitty haircut, but Mulder liked it and told Alex that had did a great job. His hands were resting on his oyster filled belly, which increased the resemblance.

After a long pause to think about it, Mulder said, "Sure, if he had any sense. Englishman or not, he was far from Queen Victoria and I always imagined Man Friday as a looker."

"Me too," Alex said. "Wonder if we're going to run out of clothes and end up making grass skirts?"

"I don't know. Sounds flammable," Mulder mused. He yawned and said, "It's late enough. Let's hit the sack."

They banked the fire together. It was nice, not arguing, not hitting, just doing something together as if they were old friends on a camping trip. Alex just hoped that Mulder didn't spoil it all by coming onto him. He was one hundred percent sure that if he said `yes' it was going to be a disaster.

Krycek plus Mulder always equaled trouble. As long as Alex remembered that equation, he would be safe. His cute little virgin ass was going to have to wait until they were rescued.

For once, Mulder was nice. He didn't make any suggestions about sex and even helped Alex search his bedding for the pervasive land crabs that invaded everywhere.

"Night, Mulder," Alex said.

"Night, Alex," Mulder returned. He sighed unhappily, but left it at that. No begging, no promises.

Why the hell was that suddenly disappointing?

OooOooO

One week turned into two weeks. Mulder couldn't believe that people dreamed of being cast away in an island paradise. The reality was boring, an endless progression of perfect days and perfect nights. It was enough to make Mulder consider making a raft and taking chances with the ocean currents and the sharks that Alex said were out there.

The odd thing was that Alex Krycek seemed bound and determined to work an eight hour day every day. It was not exactly the way Mulder envisioned him. Oh, sure, he had been an ambitious brown-noser when Mulder met him and Mulder was sure that the one vice Alex had never had was indolence, but why did he feel so compelled to fill up the day light hours with gathering food, preparing food, trying to devise ways to store food, and other such tasks.?

Meanwhile, Mulder was working in a leisurely way on his own task. He was trying to make a hammock. He had always wanted a hammock and there was enough canvas and rope around to spare for one measly hammock no matter what Alex said.

Watching Mulder try to punch holes evenly with an awl, Alex said, "That's really productive, Mulder."

"You have enough fish smoked to stop a famine," Mulder said. "You have those chalky tasting dried roots all over the place. You have mastered the art of drying coconut. Pardon me if I don't jump right in on your mania for food storage."

"You won't think it's funny when we find ourselves without fresh food some season," Alex said, coughing a little as the smoke from the fish blew back in his face. "One of my aboriginal friends informed me that those chalky tasting dried roots saved his tribesmen from starvation."

"In my opinion, bracken ferns belong in flower arrangements," Mulder said. "As do those lily roots you have been foisting on me as vegetables."

"We have to eat, Mulder," Alex said. "Who knows how long we'll be here? I don't think Denver is coming back."

"I'm about ready to take a break down at the bathing pool," Mulder said. "You going to be done there soon? I'm hot."

"Well, excuse me from keeping you from your bath after you've been laboring on the life-saving hammock all day, but these fish need to be smoked slowly or they'll be ruined," Alex said.

"Ah, fuck it, Krycek, I'm going without you. I'm a big boy now and I don't need you to hold my rubber ducky for me while I scrub," Mulder said. He dusted off his hands, stored the not quite completed hammock in the hut and grabbed a torn tee shirt that they used as a towel.

"You're an asshole, Mulder," Alex called after him. "I don't know what I ever saw in you."

"You know you love me," Mulder replied. He grinned at the expression on Alex's face. Teasing Alex made life bearable.

OooOooO

Whoops, well, Mulder probably wasn't listening anyway. Alex continued to watch the fish, turning them so they smoked evenly. After all, they had no idea how long they would be stuck here, so far food had been bountiful if not varied, but a season might come where they would be grateful for the food Alex was storing. Maybe if that day came, Alex would make Mulder eat his words before he ate any of the food. Alex smiled at the thought. Yes, he would.

An hour or so later, the fish were smoked, Alex wrapped them in more of the canvas that they had found in the big hut. He decided it wasn't too late to take a bath. Usually Mulder and he went together for safety. The smaller pond of water was less used by the wild pigs that made trails through the jungle, but some of the groups of swine visited it on occasion. With one of them stomping about, waving one of their home-made spears while the other one bathed, the daily bath was safe from pig intrusion. Mulder never really believed that the pigs were dangerous, but he didn't have an uncle who was a pig farmer in Nebraska. Alex had once fallen in the sty when visiting said uncle and he still occasionally had nightmares of the boar's tusks, its beady eyes in red sockets, and the huffing sounds it made when it tried to gore him.

His uncle had dropped the boar on the spot with his shotgun rather than risk having his nephew killed. Alex could still remember the scolding and the spanking that followed. He had been told to keep away from the fence, but had to climb up on it to see the litter of cute piglets. Just goes to show you, cute can be dangerous. Take Mulder for example.

As if summoned by his name, Mulder appeared, barely dressed in his worn-out boxer briefs. He looked lean, healthy, and horribly happy. It just wasn't fair.

Sulkily, Alex snapped, "Don't eat any of my smoked fish while I'm gone."

"I like fresh fish better," Mulder replied. "I could walk back with you if you like."

"No, you . . . you look at me!" Alex retorted childishly.

"Can't help it," Mulder said, "You're so pretty."

There he went again, saying those things to make Alex let down his guard. "Don't follow me," Alex said, since `don't touch me again' was a worn out phrase.

Tromping down the path, Alex made as much noise as possible to make sure that any wild life had ample warning that he was coming. He realized about half way to the bathing pool that he had forgotten his spear.

Ah, fuck it. If the pigs hadn't eaten Mulder, why would they go after him? With that optimistic thought in his head, Alex whistled tunefully as he walked down the path to the pond.

The bathing pond held no pigs and Alex happily stripped off to bathe. He took off his shorts to wash and hung them on the big rock. Without Mulder, he could relax and maybe even enjoy a nice jerk-off session. Thinking that Mulder's sleek naked body had been in this water only minutes before was a turn-on. On the other hand, Alex realized that life sucked as much as ever. All Alex had to do was take a chance, tell Mulder, all right, big boy, I'm all yours, and he would have what he had dreamed about. Only, after Tunguska, he just couldn't buy it. They couldn't play on the same team. Alex wasn't sure if they should even share the same planet.

Scrubbing his body with the China clay that Mulder had cleverly recognized and remembered how to process into a crumbly, but effective soap like substance, Alex took his time with the ritual of cleaning, enjoying the cool water on his body after the day's heat. Finally, as his body adjusted to the temperature of the water, Alex stroked his cock and tried to think of any other man than Mulder. Useless, he had been jerking off to thoughts of Mulder for so many years that he couldn't find another erotic image to get off on. Well, the dream Mulder could stay and keep away the one that said he might be available. The last time he had spent any time with Mulder, he had his arm chopped off. Alien technology had given him back his limb, but as far as Alex knew they couldn't fix a broken heart or a lost soul.

Alone for once in his bath, Alex relaxed back into his fantasy, Mulder looking deep into his eyes as he tenderly prepared Alex's ass for his cock. His dream Mulder paused in mid thrust of his lubed fingers to kiss him. Ah, that lower lip, the one he wished he had kissed when he gave him the information about the capture rebel, brushed against Alex's mouth as it swept gently across his lips. Mulder's finger's teased Alex's nipples, making him moan loudly.

"Oh, fuck me, Mulder," Alex said aloud. "Do me now. Make love to me."

As Mulder obeyed, he groaned in passion . . . no, he grunted in rapture . . . snorted lovingly. What the hell?

Alex opened his eyes and lost his erection. At the edge of the pool, the largest wild boar he had ever seen stood, pawing at the muddy grounds and glaring at him with beady red eyes. The boar's long, crooked yellow tusks swiveled from side to side as he studied Alex. Alex could have sworn the wrinkled face was the reincarnation of CGB Spender. The look of gleeful anticipation of homicide was definitely that of his ex-boss. To back up the swine, a row of smaller but still vicious looking sows stood, each one seemed to sense every slice of bacon or ham sandwich Alex had ever consumed. They bore a grudge.

No problem. Alex could wait them out. What was the worse that could happen? Wrinkled skin? No problem. It was nice in the pool. He could just float here. Eventually the pigs would drink and leave, allowing him to return to camp.

Fifteen minutes later, Alex was starting to wonder. The pigs had drunk, rooted around, and trotted around the edge of the pond as if thinking about swimming out to take chunks of him. They remained in a restless semi circle as if pondering how they might put long pig on their menu. No matter which side Alex angled toward to make his escape, the herd of swine trotted around to block his exit. It crossed Alex's mind that he had survived all the horrors of his life to end up drowning in a pool because he was afraid of bunch of hogs. He wondered if Mulder would die laughing when he found him.

Speaking of Mulder, oh shit . . .

From down the path, Mulder's voice carried nicely. "Alex? Alex! Alex, what in hell is taking you so damn long? Alex?"

"Mulder, I'm fine," Alex yelled. "Don't come any closer!"

Alex knew if he told Mulder the truth that Mulder would rush in to save him and probably be gored to death. Then Alex would have to live with causing the death of the man he had given years of his life to keep alive.

"Why? What are you doing?" Mulder yelled.

"Hang on, I was just getting out," Alex said. "Just go back to camp."

This was Mulder. The more you told him to stay away, the more he would be inclined to come. Alex eyed a tall palm and decided that if he ran like hell, he could make it before the pigs got him.

A few strokes to the edge, a feint to the left, and Alex sprinted toward the tree. He had his hands on the rough bark when he felt the fiery jab in his leg. He almost fell back into the herd of pigs, but managed to keep climbing despite the blood flooding down his leg and the increasing light headedness. To his shock, the palm tree started to bend under his weight. Soon he was dipping within reach of the enraged boar.

Before Alex could drop to an ignominious death at the feet of a herd of swine, Mulder entered the picture. He brandished one of their spears, yelling, shouting, and generally acting as if he was invincible. It was enough to persuade the sows who went squealing away from the dangerous human.

The boar however charged Mulder. Alex let himself drop, jarring his wounded leg. He shouted, making the boar turn.

Oh, fine, Alex knew that Mulder would be the death of him! The boar chugged forward like a locomotive, murder in its beady black eyes.

Mulder darted forward, jabbed downward with the spear and drove it almost through the boar. It screamed and thrashed as Mulder pulled the spear loose. It charged again and Mulder dropped to his knee, planted the hilt of the spear in the ground, and let the boar impale himself on the point. Mulder sounded proud of himself as he yelled, "It works! Just like the book said it would."

Alex would have applauded, but he was busy falling to the ground, blood spurting from his leg.

As Alex had occasionally dreamed about his ex-partner doing, Mulder knelt by him with a look of intense concern. Mulder asked anxiously, "Alex, are you all right?"

Alex wanted to make some butch remark that would show Mulder how foolish his rescue was, but all that emerged was a whimper as he felt all the blood leave his head. He had never fainted in his life . . . until now.

OooOooO

It was amazing. Heaven or hell, as the case may be held, Mulder. That didn't surprise Alex in the least nor did the realization that he was burning up shock him. So it was hell. He always expected that if he went to heaven, perhaps for killing fewer people than deserved killing, perhaps for doing more than his part to save humanity, that Mulder would be his reward. He couldn't imagine a heaven without Mulder. However, conversely, if what mattered was killing or smaller issues of lying, stealing, and fornicating then Alex would certainly go to hell and spend eternity being pummeled, kicked, bludgeoned, and humiliated by Fox Mulder. So hearing Mulder's voice after death made perfect sense.

The smell of pork roasting however was another matter. Alex pondered and decided that God wasn't Jewish or Islamic if he was conducting a pig roast. He also wasn't much of a cook because the roast was scorching.

Alex opened one eye and looked around. He was lying in the hut. The door was open. He could see Mulder trying to turn a large haunch of meat and not doing a very good job of managing it.

"Mulder?" Alex said, his voice sounding pathetically weak even to himself.

"Mulder, I'm going to be sick," Alex admitted.

Mulder succeeded in getting the roast turned and rushed back into the hut. He rolled Alex off his bedding and to his side, holding a dish that had once been a hub cap beneath his face. Alex was noisily sick and felt as if he had just spewed his guts into the improvised pan.

Very gently, Mulder helped Alex rinse his mouth, washed his face, and settled him back on the bed. He muttered to himself as he felt Alex's forehead. "You have a fever," Mulder said.

"I know," Alex said, putting a hand to his own forehead. "Are you sure that pig is good to eat? He acted crazy."

"Yeah, I found a broken spear head in him," Mulder said. "It was lodged into his skull. I imagine that was why he was so bold. It had been there a long time."

"Well, good," Alex said. "Serves him right if we do eat him. I don't feel in the least bit sorry for him after what he did to my leg."

"That's what I thought," Mulder said. "I'm going to smoke as much of the meat as I can. Add it to your winter stores of fish and roots."

"That's great, Mulder," Alex said, wishing he felt well enough to help.

"You just relax," Mulder said. "I'll take care of everything until your leg gets well. You're going to have to trust me."

Mulder's smile at that thought was so sweet and beautiful that Alex felt the pain go away for a few minutes as a result. Mulder was going to take care of him and Alex decided that he would let him.

OooOooO

The scream woke Mulder from a pleasant dream in which he was making love to Alex Krycek on top of his temporary desk in the bullpen of the Hoover. Alex was the geeky young agent he had been when they had met, but all the goop was out of his hair. Mulder knew because he had a fistful of the silky locks as he fucked his partner. He had just noticed that Walter Skinner had given him a ten on his performance when Alex started to scream under him. Mulder leaned over him and to tease him about the yell when he realized it was a scream of terror, loud and prolonged enough to bring Mulder from his pleasant dream to the realization that something was badly wrong with Alex.

Befuddled, heavy-limbed, Mulder tried to force his body to respond faster then it was ready to move. He tumbled, trying to cross the short distance to Alex's bed and nearly fell across him. Nothing was attacking Alex except fever. That had been mild warmth when Mulder went to sleep, leaving Alex resting comfortably, his wounded leg carefully bandaged and propped to prevent him from further injuring it in his sleep. Now the heat roared through Alex. His hair was plastered to his skull, his eyes were wide and unfocused, and whatever Alex was seeing and experiencing in his dream was something Mulder hoped that he never encountered in life.

"Shush, Alex," Mulder soothed. "I have you. Let me get some water and I'll cool you down."

It was a good thing that Mulder hadn't bothered to dress Alex. Now, he took a rag made from a shirt that had been too shredded to wear. He grabbed the bucket they used for cooking water and carried it to Alex's bed. Soaking the rag, Mulder bathed Alex's heated body, leaving no part untouched. Over and over, until the water was emptied, Mulder wrung the cloth, rewet it, and ran it over the feverish body of his only companion. He only knew that he could not bear the thought of being alone here nor could he stand the loss of Alex. Despite all his teasing, he had become fond of Alex. He liked him, an entirely different reaction than he had felt in the first days on the island, when he decided he wanted to seduce his enemy out of boredom and . . . truthfully, because he had always wanted to fuck Krycek.

Mulder ran to the pool and scooped up another bucket of water, running back to the camp so quickly that it was less than half full by the time he reached Alex's bed. He spent half the night running back and forth until, towards dawn, the fever subsided and Alex finally seemed lucid.

Holding Alex in his arms, Mulder rocked him, leaned down to kiss his forehead, and then just hold him close, their faces cheek to cheek until he felt a soft flutter against his skin, a butterfly kiss from Alex's beautiful eyelashes.

"Mulder," Alex murmured, moving his unshaven cheek against Mulder's face.

"You're going to be fine," Mulder said.

"That spear," Alex said. "The one you found. Boars don't live a long time. That means people do come here."

"Smart boy," Mulder said.

"So we'll be rescued," Alex said.

"No hurry," Mulder said.

Alex's eyes opened wide at that. Mulder said, "I have all that I need right here."

Kissing Alex's forehead, Mulder said, "Your life belongs to me now."

"I saved you first," Alex argued, still capable of being bitchy even when weak as a kitten.

"Well, we could leave it at we saved each other," Mulder said. He kissed Alex's cheek and paused until Alex weakly moved his face so Mulder's lips connected with Alex's mouth.

Even sour-breathed with fever, it was still a perfect kiss. Mulder took a deep breath when he had to break the lip-lock. "Alex, did you ever think that we were stranded here for a reason? That we needed to be here to find out how it was supposed to be between the two of us?"

"Oh, Mulder, I don't know what to believe," Alex said.

"You could believe in me," Mulder said. "Believe that I'm not the kind of person you think I am. If we made love, it would be the start of something not the end."

Green eyes smoldered. "I want to believe," Alex said.

"Believe," Mulder said, "Believe..."

The second kiss was deeper than the first. It was wonderful, promising, and would have been nearly perfect except that Alex drifted back to sleep before it ended.

Smiling wryly, Mulder stroked a path down Alex's face with tender fingers. "Just my luck, my kiss puts the princess...beautiful prince to sleep instead of waking him."

Well, it could wait. Mulder just hoped that Alex would remember this conversation when he woke.

OooOooO

Raging thirst and hunger jarred Alex from sleep. He opened his eyes and lay still for a moment as he tried to remember where he was and how his leg had come to hurt so much. He felt oddly safe. Someone was holding him. He had a living pillow and a hand resting on his back protectively.

Mulder.

Alex dimly recalled Mulder killing the boar. He didn't remember how he got back to camp, but he was almost sure that Mulder had kissed him. Could it have been as tender and sweet as Alex remembered?

Mulder was awake now. He sat up carefully, bringing Alex with him.

"Hey," Mulder said, warmth in his voice. "Do you need something?"

A chaos of impressions went through Alex's brain. He needed everything, a drink of water, something to eat, a bath, and for Mulder to kiss him again. Unfortunately, the first thing he needed to do was to visit the latrine that Mulder and he had constructed at the edge of this clearing.

"I need to piss," Alex admitted.

"You want me to bring you a pot or do you think you can make it to the latrine?" Mulder asked.

"Give me a hand up," Alex said. "I can walk."

Brave words, Alex thought, but the reality was that he needed Mulder's support the entire way. He had to lean on the wall while he pissed and then his bowels gurgled and he had to perch on the wood slab with the hole that they had carefully sanded.

"You okay?" Mulder asked.

"I can manage this on my own," Alex answered back.

And Alex could, just barely. He wiped himself with the magazine pages that Mulder and he had torn from the box of pornography that Denver had also cast into the water. At first, Mulder had tried to only use the boring articles, sparing the glossy pictures of nude women. After the first week or so, Mulder seemed to lose interest in the boobs and asses in favor of sneaking glances at Alex's unclad body. All of the pictures had been relegated to the outhouse.

The sun was up now. It was warm enough for a bath. Alex looked at his bandaged leg and sighed. He was going to be denied the good soak he wanted.

"I'll give you a sponge bath," Mulder promised.

That wasn't safe at all, Alex thought. If he let Mulder take liberties with his body, he was going to surrender utterly. He was afraid that if he let Mulder fuck him that it would mean too much to him and then Mulder would revert to being Mulder.

"I won't start anything without your permission," Mulder said, looking martyred. He seemed genuinely sad that Alex didn't trust him.

"All right," Alex said, knowing it was a mistake. Once Mulder touched him, it was like a spell. Alex knew he would want more and that Mulder would be able to do anything he wanted with him.

Mulder smiled. He knew too. Alex accepted it. Whatever was going to happen, let it happen.

After heating the water, Mulder crumpled some of the soap-like China clay onto a cloth. It felt wonderful to have the sweat and stench of fever washed away.

"You want me to shave you?" Mulder asked.

They had only one kit between them. Luckily Denver used an old fashioned straight edged razor. Otherwise, itchy beards would have soon added to the various discomforts of the island.

"Yeah," Alex said, lifting his head to Mulder as if inviting him to sacrifice him.

Mulder's fingers massaged the foam into Alex's face. His eyes were dark with pleasure. "Hold still," Mulder cautioned as he started to shave Alex's two days of beard away.

The world narrowed to the feel of the blade scraping carefully over his stubble. Mulder's fingers stretching his skin, angling his face as he worked. Alex kept his eyes shut most of the time, opening them briefly to peruse Mulder's intent expression.

Alex had always thought there was nothing sexier than the face of Mulder when he was pursuing one of his obsessions. Mulder's passions were always extreme. When he was concentrating on anything, he could give it his full investment. Alex had never thought that he would be the object of Mulder's attention, at least, not this way.

It could have lasted longer. Mulder rinsed off the remainder of the soap stone foam and said, "There, beautiful."

"Thanks, Mulder," Alex said.

Now, Mulder was leaning down again. Had he missed a spot of foam?

No, Mulder's hand caressed the back of Alex's head. He tilted Alex's chin up and then their mouths met. Alex had to yield, to let Mulder's tongue inside to probe him.

That full mouth seemed to feed on him. Alex's body was on fire. His sore leg was trivial, a nuisance. His cock was so hard that it hurt yet all he could think about was wanting more. Mulder had said that Alex was mistaken when he yearned to fuck the lovely and lithesome Paul. He had said that Alex wanted to be fucked. Damn, the man had to be right.

"Mulder, I need," Alex said. "Mulder, let's go to bed."

No quick rush of triumph in Mulder's eyes. No gloating, which was a good thing because Alex swore that he might have killed Mulder if he showed any sign that this situation was merely a challenge to him.

Sometime during the last two days, Mulder had rearranged the hut to take Alex's barrier down. They now had one large bed. Alex supposed it was easier that way for Mulder to take care of him. At least, he would accept that as a reason and not that Mulder was overly confident that Alex would give in.

"We need to be careful," Mulder said. "I don't want your leg to start bleeding again."

Alex lay on the bed, letting Mulder look at him.

"I should wait," Mulder said. "You're hurt."

"Don't you think we've waited too long already?" Alex said. "You won't hurt me."

Joy rushed in. It was true. Mulder didn't want to hurt him. Mulder wanted to make love to him. He was, at last, Mulder's obsession, the object of his quest.

Now, Mulder covered Alex, kissing him again, long and deep. Mulder's hands roamed all over his body, setting his nerves on fire. It was hard to remember to be careful of his leg. Alex wanted Mulder closer, pulled at him, thrust against him. They rolled to the side, all sweat and heat, sounds erupting from them as they touched and devoured each other's mouths.

Mulder's fingers parted Alex's ass cheeks. A long finger stroked him inside. Alex was glad that Denver had that big jar of Vaseline and that Mulder had remembered to bring it near the bed.

"I want to fuck you," Mulder said.

Yeah. Blunt words. Mulder had said them before and Alex had said he never would.

Lie.

Even if it didn't work out. Even if Mulder found wanting more satisfying than having, Alex would know what it felt like to have the man he fantasized about all these years.

"Yes, Mulder, yes," Alex said.

Gentle hands turned Alex, propped his injured leg up so it would not be hurt. Mulder seemed to know what he was doing and he was going slow, but Alex was nervous. He couldn't relax and they seemed to have reached an impasse unless Mulder forced his way inside.

"Alex," Mulder said, his voice seductive and reassuring. "Don't be afraid, Alex. It's only me. I won't hurt you. I love you."

Mulder's voice was almost hypnotic and Alex found himself relaxing enough for Mulder to push slowly inside him. It was uncomfortable, not the same as the vibrating dildos with which Alex had played. Mulder was bigger than he imagined.

"Wait," Alex begged. He was afraid that Mulder wouldn't listen, that Alex's pain would be spice for Mulder's lust.

"Alex," Mulder said, "My Alex."

Mulder slowed and stilled, his breathing ragged as he fought for control. His hand crept around Alex and coaxed Alex's cock back to life. When he begin to move again, it wasn't as bad as it was before. There was an edge of pain, but now it was more than that. Alex was being fucked. It felt like he was being transformed from the inside out. He would never be the same again.

It still hurt, but Alex wanted it. He whispered, "Fuck me harder, Mulder. Fuck me."

They moved together, Mulder's hand sliding along Alex's erection in time to his cock moving inside Alex. Something yielded and Alex was in a red hot haze of pleasure, crying out as Mulder's thrusts grew faster and then the rapid jabs. Mulder was coming inside of him. Alex couldn't believe it. It was more than he expected, this rush of joy. It was more than coming. It felt like he was coming home. Mulder completed him and he completed Mulder. They should never have been apart.

Alex's entire body was sensitized. He trembled on the edge, worried that Mulder would leave him like this.

No, Mulder thrust a couple more times at the same time as his hand moved rapidly until Alex felt wave after wave of pleasure. He thrust into Mulder's hand, finished and falling weakly, face forward.

Mulder withdrew carefully, giving Alex's ass time to adjust to what seemed a terrible loss.

"Come here," Mulder said, urging Alex to turn toward him.

They reeked of sex and heat. They were sticky and satiated. Alex waited a moment for Mulder to have second thoughts and to turn away from him in disgust.

Instead, Mulder said, "I still want you. I've had you, but I think I could make love to you for a thousand years and never have enough."

Mulder smiled at Alex, pulled him close into a gentle embrace. "You okay? I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Mulder," Alex said. "Shh."

Right now, Alex wanted to be held, to know that he hadn't guessed wrong and that Mulder, satisfied, was not Mulder turned vengeful. He wanted to think about the way he felt right now, his body heavy with the after-weariness of orgasm, his ass feeling stretched and somewhat uncomfortable, and his brain stupefied with pleasure.

Now Mulder was snoring lightly. His hand drifted off Alex's back as he drowsed. He was still smiling, fuck drunk. Alex watched him sleep for a while before allowing himself to drift off to slumber land too.

OooOooO

They were rank again. Hard to believe that Alex had just had a bath and Mulder had sponged himself clean in the process of washing his lover to be. Semen had dried all over Alex. It was on Mulder's hand until he brushed the stuff off. Never mind. He kissed Alex's mouth again until he felt the response. Green eyes opened to him and Alex offered a tentative smile.

"Hi," Mulder said.

"Mulder," Alex replied.

"Stop looking at me as if I might grow another head," Mulder said. "I'm happy."

"Really?" Alex questioned.

"Yeah, aren't you?" Mulder asked.

"Yes, I'm stuck on an island, I've been gored by a wild boar, and who knows when we'll be rescued," Alex said. "And I'm happier than I have ever been in my life."

"Me too," Mulder said.

"What happens when we get rescued?" Alex asked.

"We live happily ever after," Mulder said. "No one's after you. You said so yourself. We'll live wherever we choose. We'll make love twenty times a day. End of story."

"And meanwhile?" Alex said.

"Meanwhile, life is damn good right now," Mulder said. Flopping back, Mulder gently pulled Alex until they were face to face, flesh to flesh.

"I keep thinking you're not the kind of guy who can live without a challenge," Alex said, tracing Mulder's face with tentative fingers as if he was trying to memorize his features. "Now that we've made love, I'm afraid you'll grow bored."

Mulder captured Alex's hand and then entangled his lover's fingers with his own. He couldn't stop smiling. He said, "Oh, no, the world is still full of challenges."

Silkily, Mulder said, "You still have to seduce me, after all. Don't you want to find out how it feels the other way?"

Oh, my, Alex did look pretty when he was excited.

Mulder smiled at the tin roof. He decided that he wasn't going to be easy. Let Alex try just as hard to persuade him as Mulder had to finally win him.

That rescue boat better not come too soon.


The end.