"Damn you, Krycek."
It was five pm and Mulder was standing in the bathroom staring at his reflection; he always cleaned up nice. Tonight he was in his best freshly-pressed white dress shirt, a pin-stripe dark gray suit, and one God awful bow tie. He hated bow ties. But Scully had insisted if he wasn't going to rent a tux, he at least had to have a bow tie. Because everyone else would have one on.
Screw everyone else, Mulder thought, this sucks. But he kept it on.
Slicking back his hair with the tiniest amount of gel, he rinsed his hands and stepped out of the bathroom. He was supposed to pick Scully up at eight thirty. It was the annual FBI New Year's Ball, and this year Skinner had pointedly told them to come. Mulder still didn't know why. He figured it was just so Skinner could watch Mulder squirm the entire night, knowing he hated parties and a party where everyone hated him - well it was just going to be a blast. With any luck, his mother would call and insist he be at home right then, or, an alien bounty hunter would suddenly show up, saving him from a fate worse than death. But then again, his luck didn't work like that.
Mulder grabbed his keys and went to his car. He flat out refused to order a limo like most of the FBI did. He wasn't posh - why act like it? He just felt bad for Scully who'd have to show up with him. They'd really be calling her Mrs. Spooky now.
When he knocked, she was ready. As she opened the door, Mulder's jaw dropped.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she smiled. "You don't look half bad yourself. Though I still wish you'd rented the tux."
Scully was standing there in a black strapless dress that had a little train in the back. She had to be wearing monster heels because she came up to his chin. Her ears and neck were ornamented with the daintiest of diamonds and gold. Her hair had been formed to perfectly frame her face, not a strand out of place.
"You're beautiful, Scully."
"Thank you, Mulder. Shall we head out?" Scully paused to grab a tiny black purse then took his arm and shut the door behind them.
Time seemed to slow down for Mulder, as he dreaded arriving. Scully chattered glibly about how good it would be to see so-and-so outside of work, what she thought other women would be wearing, and so on. Mulder ignored most of her commentary. Not that he didn't want to listen. He was glad she was excited, and that for a night she might have a social life. Which still left him wondering why she'd just assumed that they would go together. It wasn't like there weren't plenty of single men in the FBI who wouldn't mind taking her. Maybe Scully had been worried he wouldn't show if she didn't drag him. She might have been right. He probably would have taken sick leave just so he didn't have to come.
No, he ignored her because he had other things on his mind. Mainly, he was trying to anticipate all the jabs fellow FBI agents would use tonight. 'Hey, Spooky, aliens take the holiday off?' 'Spooky, decided to get some fresh air for once?' 'Spooky...'
"What is it, Mulder?" Scully turned towards him, concern etched in her features.
"Nothing, Scully. Sorry, just thinking."
"Mulder, something has really been bugging you lately. Ever since Christmas Day, you've seemed...different somehow."
Mulder laughed as he turned a corner and they found themselves in the long line for valet parking. That hadn't even been bothering him tonight. But now, of course, it was on the front of his mind. What had Krycek thought? Had he thought Mulder was gay? Mulder never had an issue with homosexual people, but himself being one? That thought was so strange. Mulder had done a lot of thinking in the past week and still didn't have a clear answer as to why he'd been attracted to Krycek on Christmas Day. He couldn't blame it on the two sips of vodka, no matter how strong.
"Mulder!" Scully was shaking his arm.
"Sorry, Scully." Mulder gave her his best puppy dog look. "I know I've been off since then. I'm sorry. You'll just have to trust that it's just me caught up in my head. And tonight is a separate matter. Can you understand?"
"No, not really, Mulder. But I'll let it go for now. Promise me if whatever is bothering you...if you need someone to talk to...you'll let me know?"
"Of course, Scully," he replied, thinking, never in a million years, Scully. Especially if it goes the way Krycek seems to want it to. I'd never submit you to that.
Oh brother. If it goes the way Krycek wants it to go. What the hell was he thinking? It already sounded like he was making future plans. He shoved that problem aside for the time being as they reached the curb.
Mulder stepped out of the car, handing the keys to the valet and walked around the other side to assist Scully. As she stepped out, he heard a few whispered gasps from the other ladies flocking about. Damn. This was like the red carpet or a ball at the White House. Who knew the FBI went all out for something? He wondered how much of his taxes went towards this little shindig.
Finally, making their way into the ballroom, Mulder let Scully drag him around to a few groups of people and after having his ass ogled by a few of the women who clearly didn't know who he was, he was able to step aside for a drink at the huge buffet.
There he was stopped by a few lab tech guys wanting to know exactly what it was they were working on chemical analysis for. After grabbing a glass of champagne and a chocolate something, he responded with, "A piece of a spaceship of course," although the object they were working on had nothing to do with aliens from Mulder's deduction. Leaving them staring dumbfounded after him, he walked back towards Scully. Served them right. They wanted him spooky, fine, he'd be Spooky for them. Why disappoint the masses?
Scully glanced over his shoulder as he reached her.
"What was that about?"
"Just some guys expecting a show from me."
She looked apologetic. "Well, I let Skinner know we're here. He was happy. Asked me to save him a dance."
Mulder waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, really? The Boss Man hitting on his agent. Well, well."
"Mulder," she said warningly, "behave."
He offered a cheeky grin and then held out a hand. While he was here he might as well dance.
"Nice, Mulder. But I don't dance until I've had a few drinks in me. You know that."
"Then we'll just have to to fix that, won't we?"
He led her over towards the bar where she ordered a gin and tonic. They sat, chatting amicably about their current case and with the other agents who came over to say something to Scully. With all the men parading up to her, Mulder was tempted to find her a dance card for next year; she could write down, in order, the list of men she wanted to dance with.
A while later, he noticed Scully giggling and loosening up a little so he offered her his hand again.
"Sure," she smiled up at him.
He proceeded to guide her onto the dance floor. He wasn't the best dancer, but he could do the "shuffle-waltz". Scully however, moved smoothly and he assumed, once again, that she must have taken dance as a child.
"Mulder, why don't you tell me what's been bothering you?"
Mulder pulled himself out of the haze he'd danced himself into. "What?"
"Mulder, you've been distant towards me, distracted at work...it's not like you." She sighed, looking up at him. "I'm just worried about you. "
He chewed his lip for a moment before responding. "I just recently discovered something about myself that I'm not so sure I like."
"What's that, Mulder?" She held up a hand anticipating his response. " Let me guess, you can't tell me. Or won't, rather."
He shook his head.
"All right. Well, whatever is bothering you...is it something you could ever have seen yourself doing? I mean, it's not related to the case is it? Not like the Patterson case, right?"
"No, Scully. Nothing like that. No, this is of a more...personal nature."
She smiled. "Did you just find out you have a thing for sports cars and it's shaking your government-agent-must-drive-a-Taurus self image?"
He laughed at that. "No, but you could be along the right track. If it wasn't just a one time thing, maybe it's more of a mid-life crisis."
She faked surprise, eyebrows rising, mouth making a moue. "Mid-life? You? But you're so spry!"
"Very funny, Scully," he said just before dipping her fast enough she lost track of whatever it was she was going to say in her real surprise and laughter. As he stood her back up, they received a smattering of applause from the other people near to them. Scully blushed.
"Scully, promise you won't worry about it. I am sure it's nothing. And if there was ever cause for worry, I'd let you know. You trust me, don't you?"
She smoothed her hair back into place. "I trust your judgment about work, I trust you with my life, but you never reveal your life outside of work. Now granted, that's partly because work is your life. I just...how can I be there for you if you don't let me in?"
"Oh, Scully," he breathed into her hair, spinning a little faster so no one would think anything out of the norm. "I'll let you know. As soon as I figure it out myself, ok?"
"Alright, Mulder." She smiled up at him.
After a song or two some young desk-sitter decided to cut in and Mulder let him. Nice as it was dancing with Scully, he still wasn't enthused to be there. He checked his watch. 10:40. Time had gone faster than he had expected.
Deciding he needed a breather, he walked out the side entrance onto a patio draped in trees, snow, and white Christmas lights. Mulder leaned on the railing of the small patio imagining he could see Times Square from here. Very tiny, in the distance. What would it be like there? The huge masses of people crowding around to watch a giant ball drop, the standard symbol of the new year. It really wasn't something Mulder had ever gotten into, but right now, away from the FBI, that was what he wanted.
He felt somebody bump into him as he stood, staring into space.
"'Scuse me, sir," the man mumbled.
"No problem," Mulder called after him. He watched as a dark-haired man faded back into the ballroom. Odd.
Mulder stood there a little longer before the DC wind convinced him to go back in for another round. He slid his hands into his pockets and started for the door. He felt a slip of paper brush his knuckles. What was that? He pulled it out, stepping back towards the railing.
What the hell? Someone slipped him a note from Krycek. This just wasn't his night. Still...why not use the opportunity? It would fit his image. Running off into the night after an informant.
Making up his mind quickly, he strode into the ballroom, bypassing kissing couples and drunk bureaucrats on his way back. He searched the floor for Scully. Finding her talking to Skinner by the bar he walked over.
"Excuse me, sir. I need to speak with Scully for a moment."
"Of course, Mulder," was the gruff reply.
"Mulder, what's going on?" Scully looked confused and yanked her hand out of Mulder's grasp.
He laid his hands on her shoulders. "Look, Scully. I was just slipped a note. I have to go meet someone."
"Mulder, nice try," Scully scoffed, eyebrow ever raised.
"No, I'm serious. I can't show it to you, that would break confidentiality. But I promise, this is possibly a lead I've been looking forward to for a while now. It's a great chance, I have to go." He swallowed trying to make his face as earnest as possible and to calm the bundle of nerves imitating his stomach. Because he was lying to Scully or because he was afraid she might figure it out? He shoved that aside.
Scully scanned his face, looking for telltale signs. Finally she sighed. "So be it, Mulder. But I swear, if you're just going home to sit there and watch Mars Attacks..."
"No worries, Scully," he managed a smile as he began sauntering towards the door.
"But, Mulder. Who am I supposed to kiss at midnight?"
Mulder stopped, blushing, before managing to say with a straight face, " I'm sure Skinner could use some lovin'. Kiss him."
Scully glared daggers at him, still following as he got closer to the exit. He finally felt the push bar at his back and on his way out yelled over his shoulder, "give the boss a kiss from me too, Scully!" As he glanced back at her, her mouth was hanging open, not having thought him serious at first. He gave a wave and grin as the door shut behind him.
He nearly ran out of the building, grateful for any reason to escape. Even if it came in the form of Krycek. As he reached the valet, handing him the keys, Mulder untied his bow tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck.
Finally on his way home, Mulder brought out the note again. The handwriting matched that of the last note he'd received from Krycek. It was interesting. He'd warned Mulder he would be breaking in tonight. Why in his right mind would Mulder show up before midnight? After what happened between them the last time...But maybe it was just to put him off his guard. Perhaps Krycek had been sent to kill Mulder tonight and when he walked in after midnight not expecting anyone...Well, Mulder was warned now. He wasn't going to be fooled.
But what if Krycek had information? And the listed time was the deadline. Shit. Mulder knew he was going to end up going home after all. He just had to convince himself that his pulse echoing in his ears was from adrenaline, not anticipation of seeing the man again.
Reaching home, Mulder decided he couldn't go in yet. It was only 11:10 according to his clock. He started driving around his neighborhood, noting through his window he could see flickering blue light that must be emanating from his TV. He wondered what kind of shows Krycek liked to watch. If he ever watched TV normally. The type of man he seemed, Mulder would guess cop shows, major action. But considering that was his job, maybe not. Did he like comedy? If so, was it slapstick or witty humor like Monty Python?
Why was he even curious?
Mulder realized that he would be going in no matter what. It was like a car wreck, you didn't want to look, but somehow you always did. Now Mulder just had to give himself reason to go in. A logical reason. And rationalize the clenching of his gut.
Mulder pulled up to a spot, parking, then pulled a small bag of sunflower seeds from his glove compartment. Beginning to shell them, Mulder regarded the flickering light from his window. What was it he was feeling? Was he really attracted to his enemy? Did that explain the intense heat of rage he felt every time he met the man? How could you be attracted to your enemy? But then, that seemed to be many a great person's downfall. Mulder didn't want that.
He admitted to himself that most women would no doubt find Krycek attractive. He thought and felt that if he stepped back from it, he could see the attraction. The eyes that remained guarded but could express pain so easily. The voice that stayed calm normally but would get excited when talking about some plot or went up an octave when he was trying to make a point. Long lashes, and those lips. The lips that on a woman would be the right shade but too small. The lips that the man could tighten up in a smirk or small line but most of the time remained open, giving him a slightly surprised and breathless appearance. Lips he could imagine wrapped around a cock...
Shit! he yelled at himself. Where the hell had that thought come from? He had to do something. Anything to get out of his head. His thoughts weren't helping the situation. He'd never imagined anything like this until Christmas Day. Ok. That was a lie. He'd seen men get it on in a few pornos he owned and he'd stared with morbid fascination. But that hadn't ever been what got his dick up.
Sighing, Mulder turned the car off, replacing his seeds and walked into the building, mind whirling the entire time with imagined scenarios. Krycek would kill him. Krycek would rape him. Krycek would...
Mulder stepped inside, shutting the door behind him quietly. It appeared as if the other man hadn't heard Mulder, but he knew better. Still, he let the relative truce allow him to look at Krycek. He could only see the back of his head and shoulders, but still, Mulder looked. His hair was just slightly longer than Tunguska and Mulder could see the outline of his pixie ears. The ears that were such a contrast to the rest of what he saw. A long muscular neck and broad shoulders that looked like they could support the weight of the world. From here, he could imagine Krycek still had two arms, that Mulder had done the cutting himself, that no pain had come Krycek's way.
Getting too confused by his own thoughts, Mulder spoke up. "You left your jacket."
"I know," came the reply, the man still not turning around.
"Was it you? Were you there tonight?"
Well, this was uncomfortable. If he was just going to sit there like a bump on a log...
He heard a sigh and watched as the other man stood up. He was in leather and black again.
"Come here," he whispered.
Mulder didn't want to, but Krycek's voice was like the Siren's call. He stepped forward.
"I brought something a little more festive tonight, since we both celebrate New Year's." As Mulder stepped around the couch, Krycek gestured. Mulder looked at the top of the coffee table. Next to two martini glasses was a bottle of slightly colored alcohol.
"Why do I feel like we're on a date?"
The other man just stared at him.
"Fine, fine. What is it?"
Krycek grinned like he had when he'd showed Mulder his "Christmas gift".
"It's pertsovka, a Russian vodka flavored with honey and chili pepper."
"Come again?" Mulder made a face.
"Trust me, it's good. It gives it the flavor and color." Krycek sat down again. "A fiery taste."
"So you're a connoisseur of vodkas now? I learn something new everyday about you."
"Yes, you do, Mulder. And I can't exactly keep a wine cellar, but there's no reason not to be a sophisticated drinker now is there? One of my favorite cocktails is a VOX green apple."
Mulder shook his head. He wasn't used to Krycek being high brow, though he supposed it came in handy on certain assignments. He finally glanced at the TV which had been playing quietly in the background. Krycek was watching the New Year's special. Dick Clark was talking with the boy band Bluestreet Boys, no Black...no, Backstreet Boys.
"This is what you've been watching?" He asked, eyebrow raised.
"I want to see the ball drop."
"Ah, simple pleasures," Mulder said, sarcasm dripping.
"Sit down and watch, Mulder. You might like it."
"Please." But he sat.
As he did, Krycek reached for the bottle and putting it between his legs twisted the top off, quickly filling a glass and handing it to Mulder. As the man moved, Mulder noticed a whiff of some masculine scent. Krycek poured his own glass and leaned back, face intent on the TV, settling a little closer to Mulder than was necessary. With it came the full scent of his cologne. It had a faint powdery smell, laced with wooden undertones. It reeked of grace and power. Just the type of cologne an assassin might wear. It was going straight to his head too. The cologne mixed with the scent of man was downright deadly.
Casually leaning slightly further away to regain oxygen and distance himself from Krycek's seeming come on, he asked, hoping it sounded nonchalant, "what cologne do you wear?"
Without looking, though Mulder noticed a decided smirk, he responded, " Dior."
"That's a clothing designer." Mulder was confused.
"Mulder, clearly no one taught you the finer things in life. I may work with the rats from time to time but I've slept with power too. And they like you to blend in." He paused before whispering, "sometimes, I just like to wash their stench off." Mulder was too busy wondering if Krycek meant 'slept with' literally or sexually to comprehend the whisper. The man continued louder, "Dior is a fragrance brand as well as cosmetics and clothing for all sexes, Mulder. And I am wearing Christian Dior Homme."
Krycek turned, smirking still. "Why the sudden interest, Mulder?"
"No reason." He raised his glass in a mock toast and sipped the reddish vodka to cover his faux pas. Why did he become unhinged around this man? And not violently lately. He couldn't say it was the vodka, he'd just taken a sip now. Maybe they were poisoning his water supply again and it was sinking in through his skin during showers; he no longer drank from the tap.
Speaking of the vodka...it had a delightful flavor. He rolled it over his tongue to get the full effect. It had a warm feeling, unlike plain vodka and Krycek was right, it was fiery. But not the way Thai food made him feel. No, this was like lighting his own fire within. Mulder could imagine this was what love tasted like.
"Mmmmm," he couldn't help letting out.
"Told you you'd like it. And by the way, I haven't mentioned how good you look tonight. Not a bad suit and the bow tie undone, nice touch. Though, I still think you should have gone for the tux."
"That's what Scully thought--" Mulder choked. "How did you know...?"
"Mulder, I wasn't listening in on any conversations. I did go through the Academy. I know the annual New Year's Ball is supposed to be black tie."
They both turned their attention to the TV. After several minutes, which wouldn't have been uncomfortable silence if he hadn't been fighting the powerful lure of the cologne which made him want to grab Krycek and maul him - with his lips - they both started talking.
"I brought you inf--"
"Why are you here--"
They looked at each other warily, before Krycek deferred to Mulder. Sighing, Mulder tried again.
"Why are you here, Krycek? I mean what is your ultimate purpose? Is it to seduce me? Get me drunk? Lull me into complacency then kill me?"
"So we're back to that again," Krycek started to look angry for the first time during the evening. "Why can't you just trust me for once?"
Mulder stood up, starting to pace. "What reason have you given me? You've back stabbed me enough times. And I am not sure what you want with these meetings in my apartment, Christmas and today."
"Have you seen me with a gun in my hands, Mulder?" Now Krycek stood, also pacing. Given the setup of the room they had to pace nearly alongside each other and each time Mulder got another whiff of that damn Dior.
"No, but what other assurances do you have to give me? How do I know you're not going to get me drunk and kill me? I mean really, Krycek! Cologne, specialty vodka...it's fucking absurd!"
"Maybe if you'd ever listened to me, you'd understand some things!! But no, classic Mulder-style, you just fucking barge ahead with no thoughts about anyone else, not listening to anything you don't want to hear! I am so sick of being treated like scum by you, Mulder. Why haven't you just shot me then if you want to so bad? I'll tell you why, you asshole!"
Krycek stopped turning to face Mulder, rage seething under a calm mask that was precariously slipping away. Mulder turned, surprised, when he felt a hand quickly reach out and cup his half erect penis through his suit pants. Mulder gasped, head spinning.
"This," Krycek stepped closer, hissing, "is why you don't kill me. You might not think you want it, you might not like the idea, but you sure as hell do want it. Don't ever lie to me, Mulder. I am the master of bullshit and I can smell it a mile away. Especially when you reek of unclaimed sex."
Mulder backed away as best he could. It wasn't a hard grip, instead just strong enough that he couldn't escape and every move made the hand brush his upper thighs as well. Shit. Krycek was making it up, wasn't he? He'd just admitted he was a great liar...Aw, shit.
"Mulder...you going to deny this? What's so evident? What are you afraid of?"
You, thought Mulder, God, I'm fucking scared of you Krycek! What you've done to me, your intentions, what you are doing to me...
All that came out though was a loud moan as Krycek began rubbing his thumb over the shape of Mulder's bulge.
"I'm...I'm not gay," he managed to squeak the words out.
"No? Well, bi is good enough for me, Mulder. In fact, I don't fucking care if you find the thought of every other man disgusting. I know you want me. In fact, that suits me just fine."
I do, Mulder continued his thoughts. Why, I have no clue. No fucking clue. I've never experienced this before. Is it like this with all men? The heat, the rage, the passion bubbling right under my skin so that it's all I can do to not jump the bones of my enemy?
"Hey, hey. All right, Mulder. I'll stop now. But you got to calm down."
Huh? Mulder found himself backed up into the wall, and realized his eyes were rolling. Krycek thought it was because he was scared. Well that was only part of it, dammit. Mulder stepped forward as Krycek moved back. Mulder took a much needed breath and ran his hands through his hair, reaching to grab and pull. In one loud yell that he didn't give a shit if his neighbors heard, he released all his pent up frustration and tension. Once done, he breathed deeply, trying to calm the aftershocks so he wouldn't collapse on the floor. He glanced up, hands on his knees and saw Krycek had moved back towards the couch, knuckles white around the glass he was holding while looking wide-eyed at Mulder.
Taking another moment, he straightened and walked towards the couch grabbing his own glass and letting the vodka sooth away the rest of his trepidation. He still didn't know what was going on. And in one sense wasn't sure he wanted to. But he would ask anyway.
"Krycek, just tell me one thing. And please don't lie. I want to believe you, whatever your response. But honestly, Krycek, what do you want with me? Why this?"
Krycek took a step closer. He was able to hold the glass in his fake hand. This small fact made Mulder stare in fascination. The fingers adjusted just so to form a small cage for the glass. When Mulder felt a caress on his cheek with one very warm, long-fingered hand, he started, switching his focus. The man was close. Again the Dior invaded his senses but this time Mulder let it relax his muscles and breathed deeply, shutting his eyes quickly. When they opened they encountered an open mouthed Krycek whose breath was coming in shallower gasps.
"Honestly, Mulder? I don't have an idea as to why I am doing this. All I know is I got tired of fighting with you. With fighting the urges that have been in me for so damn long. You've always been unattainable and I like a challenge. We seem to revert to our basic instincts around each other; you to fight for your territory and dominance, me to couple with the most dominant of the pack, perhaps in turn showing my own strength. Think about it, have you ever thought I could beat you? Probably not. But I assure you, I can." He looked up through his lashes which fluttered dangerously and excitingly for a moment.
To couple with? If the man hadn't looked so serious Mulder would have laughed right in his face. He decided Krycek watched the Discovery Channel.
"Fuck it, Mulder. I am attracted to you. Have been since day one. That is the whole reason."
It was so straightforward, Mulder couldn't help but believe. It didn't help that the hand hadn't stopped stroking. Lightly too, not rough, not possessive. Mulder found his head tilting into it and saw Krycek's eyes light up with triumph. Mulder was too tired, too emotionally chafed and too damn turned on to fight anymore.
"Mulder, this is your second chance. You turned me down at the end of the night last time. I came one more time to try and gain your desire, if not trust. You're going to believe me, Mulder. I can fake eagerness, but I can't fake attraction." Again Mulder wondered about that line - faking eagerness, what did he mean? - but the sudden press of a rock solid cock against his own crotch was enough to chase that curiosity out of his mind. An arm entwined about his waist as it had on Christmas. This was possessive. And Mulder didn't step away.
"It's times like this, I would kill to have my arm back," he heard Krycek mutter. He didn't doubt it; he thought Krycek would kill anyone it took if it would get his arm back.
They stood there in silence, crotches pressed against each other, arm around Mulder's waist and Mulder couldn't deny to himself anymore that he wasn't attracted to the man. For whatever reason. He still needed to decide why, later.
Through the silence Mulder heard chanting. They both glanced at the TV.
They tuned back to each other, and drinks still in hand, they toasted one another, awkwardly, before swallowing the last traces of alcohol.
They joined in the chanting, quietly, both now staring at the TV.
"Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!"
Mulder couldn't help but turn and face the man whose breath he could feel against his cheek. He nudged Krycek's chin with his nose, still whispering the numbers, to get his attention. Krycek turned, eyes wide again. Mouth for mouth they were, Mulder was about an inch taller but it didn't make a difference.
"Mulder, kiss me." It sounded more like a plea than a demand.
"One," they said in unison and as Mulder brought his face to Krycek's he saw the ball hit the bottom mark, and felt more than heard the fireworks going off. Even with his eyes closed, he could see them.
The kiss began gentle, just two open soft mouths meeting, breathing each others air. Then Mulder flicked his tongue on the other mans lower lips, pulling it in between his teeth, sucking on it for a single moment before letting go. It elicited a tiny whine from Krycek. He returned the favor, imitating Mulder's action before sliding more tongue into Mulder's mouth, silently asking for more territory. Mulder's tongue retreated allowing the other man to enter fully, until Krycek coaxed him into play. From there the kiss turned more deadly. The pace quickened, their tongues dancing a thrusting dance as their lower bodies joined in. Mulder discovered he had no control over his hips. They twitched and met Krycek's in small thrusts and when the other man grinded in a circular motion, Mulder groaned into the kiss.
Grateful the glass was empty, Mulder moved his arms to his enemy's neck, one hand reaching out to grasp his hair like he never would do with a woman, forcing Krycek's head back and gaining the upper hand on the kiss, style loosing to the need for more and more contact, getting sloppy. They alternately sucked on each other's tongues, bringing teeth into the action. A minute or an eternity later they broke apart for oxygen. Mulder used the break to do what he'd wanted to do the moment the man had sat next to him. He reached his head forward and bit Krycek's neck, soothing away any pain the next instant with a lick. Burying his nose as best he could, and sucking hard, he left his mark. Mulder moaned as he felt Krycek buck his hips appreciatively.
Mulder had lost all control over himself when Krycek gently pushed him back, breathing hard, erection pushing madly against his jeans. The man gulped and Mulder leaned forward to nip his Adams apple as it bobbed.
"Why, Krycek? You started it," Mulder muttered against Krycek's throat.
"You're right, I did. And I have to stop it now. I have something I need to show you. And I know I'll never get to do this again if I push you too far. You're going to hate yourself tomorrow anyway. I only hope you can think it over in that brilliant mind, uh, of yours, and forgive me. I can only hope you want me again in daylight." The man stumbled over his words as Mulder bit his neck again.
Mulder stepped back, realizing he was serious. He was going to need to jack off and a cold shower after all this. He'd never had such a strong reaction before. Not with the little he and Krycek had done. Jeez, they'd only kissed a bit and he felt ready to come.
Krycek walked over to the couch and grabbed a manila envelope Mulder hadn't noticed before off the floor.
"I thought this would help back your excuse to Scully. Plus it's something I want you to read."
Krycek handed him the envelope, and kissed him quick and hard. Mulder nearly didn't let the man go, but Krycek easily avoided his grabbing hands.
"Another day, Mulder." He grabbed the parka out of the closet where Mulder had hung it, instinctively knowing where Mulder put it. "The pertsovka's yours. Happy New Year's, Mulder. Hey, it's 1999."
"Gonna party like it, too," Mulder quipped, smiling tightly, a little annoyed the man was leaving after all this, though his brain knew Krycek's comment was right. His logic was already spinning, breaking down his reactions and questioning why.
Krycek smiled back, looking up at Mulder through his long lashes. "I'll be in touch."
Then without another word, the man vanished from Mulder's apartment.
Mulder stared at the door before sinking onto the couch. The TV played lightly in the background but he didn't glance at it. Instead, he twirled the martini glass in his hands, fascinated by its contours. He sat back, leaning his head against the cushions. Taking a breath he realized he could still smell traces of Dior on the couch.
"Damn you, Krycek," he whispered to the night air.