Mulder crumpled the worn square of paper in his pocket, smashing the scrawled handwriting. He'd long ago memorized the words...saw them before him every time he closed his eyes.
Pioneer Square, Seattle. Underground Tours.
And even now as he followed the group of tourists down the dark stairs, the irony didn't escape him. Only Krycek would choose such a place.
Ahead of the group, the cheery tour guide walked down the wooden pathway, telling the man holding the flashlight to keep an eye out for rats. What a crock of shit. The only vermin they were likely to encounter would be wearing leather, not fur. Mulder scanned the darkened passage, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell of mildew, absently listening to the commentary about the logging industry in the nineteenth century. He didn't give a damn about the old city, much less about the transients that used the underground as their personal outhouse. His only interest was just when the darkness would speak his name.
The crowd ahead began to turn the corner, leaving him with only the shallow glow of his own flashlight. He started to pick up his pace, when he heard a slight scratching noise behind him. Arcing his light across the path, onto the dirt that used to make up the city's streets, he caught a glimpse of movement. Peering through the haphazardly boarded up door, that probably led upstairs into one of the area shops, he wasn't at all surprised to see a pair of eyes staring back at him.
"So glad you could come, Mulder."
Swallowing heavily at the husky whisper, Mulder glanced towards the wooden pathway. The tour group had rounded the corner, out of sight, and all that remained was the echo of their voices.
"I got your note, Krycek. What the hell do you want with me?"
"This is your game. It always has been. I'm just playing by the rules."
Mulder frowned, watching the other man push aside one of the loose boards and duck under the doorway. Dusting off his jeans, Krycek met his confused stare.
"You don't remember, Mulder? You beat the shit out of me, and I feed you another piece of information. That's the way it works, right?"
"Why don't you just tell me what you know and save me the trouble?"
The corner of Krycek's mouth lifted. "Because this time, we're switching sides."
Mulder didn't have time to react before the solid punch to his stomach had him doubling over in pain. The flashlight dropped from his hand, skittering across the wooden planks, failing to give him warning of Krycek's next move. Another well-placed blow slammed into his cheek, smashing his teeth against sensitive flesh, pouring the coppery taste of blood into his mouth.
He was back to his senses in seconds, throwing his weight against his attacker, sending them both sprawling into the dirt. Dust rose around them, filling his nostrils. He could hear Krycek laugh and then grunt as he jabbed his own fist into the traitor's side. Wrestling on the ground, in the dark, with only the slight glow of the flashlight against the wall, made about as much sense as boxing with his eyes closed. But Mulder wasn't about to give up.
The eerie sound of hoarse moans and grunts filled the passage, along with the heavy slapping sound of flesh pounding flesh. And the sudden tightness in his slacks should have surprised him, but he was too lost in madness to care. He should have recognized the overblown rage for what it truly was...but he'd be damned if he let himself feel anything but hate.
Suddenly bucked off and shoved to the right, Mulder scrambled to his feet and whirled to face his adversary. Yet, in the gloom, he couldn't see exactly where Krycek stood.
"Why don't you give it up, Mulder? You know this shit gets you hot. You're a fucking sadist and you love every minute of it."
He tried to gauge where the other man spoke, but when he charged he tripped over the shadowed walkway. Staggering to his feet, he spun around once more.
"I'm not the one who started this, Krycek."
He cringed at the responding laughter. "Deny everything, right, Mulder?"
Rammed from the side, Mulder crashed into the wall with a solid thud. Pain ricocheted through his shoulder, exploded as his head cracked against stone. Shoving back, using all of his weight, Mulder fought him off. Hit him once, twice. Wrenched his right arm, the only one that was real, behind his back. Grinding Krycek's cheek against the wall, he reached for his gun.
"The moment I've been waiting for." Krycek's words were nearly muffled by the pressure. "You man enough to pull the trigger this time?"
Pressing the black muzzle against the back of his head, Mulder clenched his teeth. "I'm through saving your ass."
"Don't do me any favors, asshole. Either shoot or get down to business."
Mulder paused, absently releasing pressure on the gun. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You're hard as a fucking rock, Mulder. You think I can't feel that?"
Just as he was about to take a step backwards, he tightened his hold even more. "I'm not falling for your stupid mind games."
"What's the matter, Mulder? Scully not hot enough for you? Not man enough?"
"God damn..." Lowering the gun, Mulder shoved Krycek's head into the wall.
Instead of passing out, like he should have, Krycek staggered backwards and swayed in place. He should have known better. The man had nine lives. Not even the steady trickle of blood down his face could slow him down. Still, Mulder wasn't at all prepared for the moment when his enemy grabbed his shirt, dragged him closer, and sealed their lips for the first time.
The hot, salty tang of another man's tongue in his mouth. Swirling, tasting, exploring. And he should have been fucking repulsed. He should have shoved him away and puked his guts out. So why the hell was he gripping the bastard even tighter?
Steamy breath on his face, fingers clenching in his hair, a hard and virile body grinding against his own. And damned if it didn't make him even harder than he already was. He forgot to fight when Krycek pushed him back against the wall. Ceased all movement, save his ragged breathing as he watched the surreal image before him.
Alex, ripping his shirt open. Kissing and biting his way down his chest. His tongue swirling around his navel, sifting through the hair that led to his groin. His enemy, unhooking his slacks and unzipping his fly. His pants puddling around his ankles as the other man dragged his boxer shorts down his thighs. His own turgid cock, bobbing with excitement, twitching with need as Alex wrapped it in his fist.
Mulder's fingernails raked the wall behind him, scratching, scraping loose bits of rock as Alex Krycek fell to his knees. Jesus, it was like a nightmare. But he was fascinated. Frozen in sublimation. And so damned turned on he was about to come right then and there.
A strangled moan ripped it's way out of his mouth as Alex drug his tongue over the head of his cock. Lapping away drops of moisture, sucking the crown in one long pull. Stroking and tugging at the shaft, making him weak in the knees. And Mulder tried to push him away. To end this madness while he still could. But he just didn't have the strength.
Or was it the will?
No one could possibly know how to touch him like another man. All the right pressure points, the little patches of skin that nearly made him shriek with pleasure. No one else could know just how fast to move, how hard to rub, how long to continue before he erupted like Mount St. Helens.
And no one...no one, could make him feel as much as this man did. Be it hate, lust, or something else. Not even Scully had as much power over him. Alex Krycek turned him into a riotous mass of emotions, more powerful than a powder keg. So was it any wonder that the growing ache in his balls threatened to be more intensely satisfying than anything he'd ever felt before?
Sucking him into his mouth, his throat, Alex looked up at Mulder with hooded eyes. And he didn't have to say a word. His acceptance was written all over his face.
Fisting his hands in Krycek's hair, Mulder surrendered. His hips jerked, thrusting hard and deep, shoving himself even farther into the other man's mouth. Alex braced his prosthesis on the floor, using his other hand as an anchor, cupping a firm hand full of Mulder's ass. His fingers deliberately straying, stroking the hot puckered swell of his anus. And when the tip of Krycek's middle finger pressed deeper, it was all the further encouragement Mulder needed.
With a cry he didn't even recognize as his own, Mulder started to come. But Krycek had never been the agreeable sort--why would he start now? Instead of finishing off the incredible blow-job, taking his semen into his mouth, Alex leaned far to the side and let Mulder blow his load on the floor.
"You didn't think I'd make this easy for you, did you?"
Krycek's breathing was nearly as ragged as his own as he stood once more. Dragging his hand down Mulder's cock one last time, he grinned as he watched him shudder.
"I thought you deserved as much for all the times you fucked me over and I didn't fight back."
"You're a pussy, Alex. You were afraid I really would pull the trigger."
"No, Mulder. I just wanted a chance to pull your trigger." Mulder's gaze caught on Krycek's hand as he unbuttoned his tight black jeans. Pausing, Alex motioned with his finger. "Turn around, *darling.* We aren't finished yet."
"The hell we aren't."
Mulder started to reach for his shorts and slacks when Krycek grabbed him with surprising strength for a one-armed man. Shoving him against the wall, his palms flat against the surface, Alex held him there with his weight.
"I didn't say you could move."
"God damn it, this isn't a game anymore--"
"You got that right."
"Krycek, you asshole, let me go!"
Mulder flinched at the hot length of his cock against his ass. Leaning closer, whispering in his ear, Krycek said, "Not a chance."
"Fuck..." This time he really did fight him, more out of fear than anything else. Jesus, blow jobs were one thing...but this... He bucked hard against Krycek when he felt his hand on his ass. "You son-of-a-bitch, get off me."
He could hear Alex spit, a second before his fingers pushed deep into his rectum. He squirmed, fighting the invasion, but his protest didn't last for long. Despite his expectations, Krycek wasn't hurting him. Not yet, anyway.
"Are you a masochist as well, Mulder?"
He couldn't even form a sentence. The stroking, deep and intense within him, was far too good for words.
"The more you fight me, the more it's going to hurt. And as much as you seem to like hurting me, I'd really rather not feel like a rapist."
Nononono. That wasn't possible anymore. Instead of trying to buck him off, Mulder's hips pushed backwards to drive his fingers in even further. He rode the slick drive of his digits, biting his lip to stifle the whimpers building in his throat. And when those fingers pulled out, he nearly reached for his gun again.
"Damn it, fuck me. Now."
"Demanding little bitch, aren't you?"
The sudden pressure in the cleft of his ass made Mulder moan out loud. Alex wrapped his arm around his waist, pushing with determination, coaxing his former partner to force himself onto his swollen shaft. Pinching, unyielding pressure...and then he pushed past the barrier and they both flinched at the contact. Delicious, spreading heat. Building, filling, stretching. God, was this anything like what women felt?
No. Nothing could possibly feel this good. This complete.
Mulder's fingers curled against the wall with each inward thrust, driving tortured cries from his throat, and he watched with fascination as his enemy linked his fingers with his own.
Sweat dripped down his face, cool against the flushed skin, leaving a salty kiss on his lips. He moved his hips in rhythm, fucking back against him, screwing himself onto Krycek's erection. And it felt so fucking good, so sweet, that his once-spent cock was slowly springing back to life.
The slapping of skin on skin. Grunts and moans. The smell of Alex's sweat and the sound of his breath rushing past his ears...it was no wonder fighting this man was such a turn on.
The sudden increase in pace, and sharpness of driving thrusts, signaled that Krycek was close. Clutching the fingers tangled with his own, Mulder tightened his internal muscles and clamped down hard.
Spasm after spasm wracked Krycek's body, rocking them against one another until the climax slowly ebbed. Pressing his forehead against Mulder's back, Krycek gently disengaged their bodies. Still, even that much caused a slight twinge of pleasure/pain.
He must have seen Mulder wince as he stepped back, because his voice softened. "It'll be easier next time."
"You didn't think this was a one night stand, did you? Besides, you still owe me some good Intel."
Mulder couldn't help the slight smirk that developed on his face. Reaching for his boxers and slacks, he pulled them up his thighs and arranged them into place. Zipping up his fly, he said, "We better get out of here. I think I can hear the next tour group coming."
Yet as he turned around to face Krycek, the man was already gone. The loose board on the doorway was propped back into place, and Mulder was alone once more.
Swearing under his breath, he picked up his flashlight and headed down the walkway to join the tour that was now in progress. Alex may have won this time, but the game wasn't over yet.
"What have I become
Feedback: This was my first real slash story--how'd I do?