God. I'm never going to be able to live this down. How could she do
this to me?
He moved the focus of his accusing glare from the page to his partner,
who, in spite of the awfulness of the situation, seemed about to burst into
laughter. Or, more likely, she seemed about to burst into laughter
because of the awfulness of the situation...
"How could you do this to me, Scully? Everyone's going to know it's
me... 'Spooky can't find a date, needs to find a new Mrs. Spooky'... That's
what's going to be broadcasted around the office! Argh!" Groaning, Mulder
slumped forward onto his desk, his head in his hands.
"Don't be stupid, Mulder," Scully said, taking a step towards the
distraught man, "How could they possibly know it was you? How many
'handsome brunets' do you think there are in the world? Anyway, I
specifically recall you saying..." Scully cleared her throat, and tried to
make her voice deeper, "... 'Oh Scully, whatever shall I do? If Pendrell's
asked you to go with him to the dinner, then who shall I take?'"
Mulder had to smile at Scully's impression of him. "I don't think it came
out quite like that, Scully. It was more like 'Damn. What am I supposed to
do? I have to find a date in three weeks!', and then you said..."
"Leave it with me."
"...Yes. I knew I couldn't trust you with anything with that smile."
"What smile?" Scully looked at him quizically, grinning at his agonized
expression.
"That smile," Mulder said, pointing an accusing finger at her, "You
always smile like that when you're up to something. I should have known!"
He continued waving his finger at her as he walked around the desk and
out of his office, taking the offending paper with him. He glanced
suspicously at people that walked past him in the hallway, expecting them
to look at him, and burst out laughing... but they seemed none the wiser.
Mulder strode quickly down the halls, letting his anger carry him wherever
it pleased. He gradually began to slow down, his mind clearing as his speed
decreased, and suddenly realised he didn't have anywhere to go. Swerving
suddenly to the left, he entered the men's toilets.
Brightly lit, the white light shining off wash-basins all added to the
effect of sterile impersonality, the sole purpose of which to keep the
employees blinded and unhappy and unwilling to stay in the refuge of the
toilets for more than necessary.
Deserted.
Mulder ducked down, peering under the stall doors before entering one
himself. Alone. Perfect. He locked the door, sat on the seat and sulked for
a few minutes before checking the ad again. He hadn't read it properly last
time, in his anger, and now forced himself to read it again with a more
critical eye; trying to work if it was so blantantly obvious only to him
who the ad was referring to.
'MAN, tall, handsome brunet..'
That speaks for itself. Handsome? Mulder's eyebrows twitched, and he
smiled in spite of himself. Scully thinks I'm 'handsome'? Well. That'll
put people off track...
'... 33 yo....'
She could at least lie a bit...
'... charming and clever personality...'
Another diversion. No-one else has worked with me as closely as Scully.
No-one else would know.
'..seeks woman, approx. same age. Ph. (202) 555-2355'
Mulder tried to convince himelf that no-one would recognise him, although
he still had a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that he'd missed
something vital, not taken something into account. When he had calmed down,
he swung open the stall door with a bang, and glanced at himself in the
mirror on the way out.
Handsome?
At least Scully had been thoughtful enough to submit only his home phone
number, so he could let his answering machine do all the talking, and not
have to face the applicants themselves.
I don't need to reply to any of them. I can just pick the promising
ones. Mulder thought hopefully, but still shot a blistering glare in
Scully's direction as he passed by Skinner's office. She looked up in time
to catch his scowl, and motioned for him to come inside. She had been
called in for a meeting. But Mulder ignored her, and strode off
purposefully back to his office.
It was lunch-time. He was taking a lunch break.
The sun's last red rays beamed through the slits in the half drawn blinds,
creating a bar-like pattern ranging over Mulder's carpet and coffee table.
Caged.
Mulder had been prowling around his basement all day, feeling ridiculously
like a prisoner in his own office, and now he was just begining to unwind.
He swung his arms, trying to relax the tensed muscles, then, pressing the
button on his answering machine, collapsed on his couch.
"Hi," a hesistant female voice said, "I'm Sandra, and... um... I'm 31:
black hair, brown eyes, and I work in a fashion shop on 43rd Street. I
interested in astrology and music..." She said, quickly gaining more
confidence, ".. and love to party! I'd really like to get to know you
sometime... ring me on 555-6729"
Mulder made a mental note of her, and listened to a few less interesting
applicants, before retreating to the kitchen to inspect the contents of his
fridge, leaving the answering machine running.
"Oooh honey baby..." a deep voice breathed into the phone. Mulder shot out
of the kitchen. "You know I'd just love to meet you, darling. I'm tall,
blonde, and..." The voice broke off with a laugh. "... Hey, Fro! If you
don't stop fondling that frying pan, I'm going to fondle it right up your
ass, Do-Hickey. You realise we have to eat off that! No... No, now... now
that's just gross... That's disgusting, Hick. Byers! Control this maniac
friend of ours before he hurts himself. Or our kitchen utensils!"
Mulder chuckled. The jokers. He knew he could count on them to be the first
to know about this newspaper business, they regularly scanned the papers
and the classified ads for anything that could have a link to one of their
new conspiracy theories. He had expected, no, looked forward to the
friendly jostling this would cause the next time they managed to get
together. Maybe he'd give them a call later. Langly returned to the phone,
effectively ending Mulder's reverie.
"Uh... Mulder... Yeah, we saw your ad in the paper—recognised you
immediately, of course, you handsome, charming brunet! Do we have Miss
Scully to thank for that? We expect details on Saturday! Good luck with
your date hunting!" Langly seemed about to put down the phone, before
adding, "Um... You know the standard procedures... this tape will
self-destruct in ten seconds, blahblah.. See you."
Mulder stopped the tape, deciding to save the rest for tomorrow. Then
reaching for the phone, he dialed the nearest Chinese restaurant. He was
seriously considering donating the contents of his fridge for scientific
research, where someone could write a thesis on the growth of civilizations
of bacteria on pieces of bread and fermenting orange juice. He changed into
jeans and a t-shirt, and he was just settling down to watch some TV when he
was interrupted by a knock on the door.
That was quick.
He opened the door to a tall, slim figure, leaning casually against the
door-frame, one hand shoved in the pocket of a pair of tight, black jeans
and the other holding a bunch of red roses. Mulder gaped.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Krycek leered at him. "Oops. Must've got the wrong address. I saw an ad in
the paper, and thought I'd come and check it out."
Mulder groaned, and rubbed his hand over his forehead. He felt a head-ache
coming on. He was also resisting the temptation to hit the man over the
head with the bunch of roses. Or, even better, the door.
"You know, Krycek, there was one requirement specified in the ad, and
you've failed on it."
Krycek kept on grinning in the same disconcerting manner. He was silent for
some time.
"And what might that have been?" He said finally.
"You're not a woman."
"Yeah, well. You get what you take."
This time Mulder was silent, considering Krycek's absurd statement.
"So, are you going to invite me in or what?"
"Like hell I am."
"Some way to treat a guest. Look, I even brought wine!" A dark bottle of
red wine appeared, as if from nowhere, in Krycek's other hand.
"Give me one good reason not to kill you right now." Mulder fumed.
"You'll be charged with manslaughter."
"I'll arrest you."
"For what? Assulting you with roses and wine?" Mulder knew Krycek was
right, he didn't have one piece of evidence, against the guy. He had kept
the cigarette butts, but what could that prove? Either that he had lied
about his smoking habits when he joined the FBI, or that someone else
really enjoyed Morleys. Krycek laughed, his green eyes dancing. He shut
them for a split second, and Mulder shut the door before he could open them
again.
There was silence outside for a few minutes, and Mulder began to think that
Krycek had gone. But then he heard voices, and the sound of footsteps going
away.
"Hey, Mulder?" Krycek's voice sounded muffled through the door. Mulder
could hear him pounding on it. "Mulder? Did you want your dinner or not?"
Mulder sighed heavily and walked wearily to the door.
"This is certainly verging on harrassment, Krycek." He said as he opened
it.
"Harrassment? I bought dinner for you! I insist, my treat." Krycek shoved
the cartons of Chinese into Mulder's hands, and, while Mulder struggled to
keep from dropping them, took advantage of the moment. He entered the
apartment and shut the door in one smooth moment which was so quick that
Mulder had barely opened his mouth to protest before Krycek had disappeared
again, this time, into the kitchen.
He reappeared again after Mulder had managed to deposit the cartons on the
table, carrying two plates and some cutlery. Mulder glared suspiciously at
the mass of cartons, then questiongly at the lean figure approaching him
with an innocent grin on his face. Suddenly Mulder unexplicably felt his
mouth go dry, and struggled to swallow as he watched with slight admiration
the fluid grace with which Krycek moved across the room... unselfconsiously
brushing a long piece of dark hair off his face with his empty hand. It was
longer—much longer, in fact, Mulder noticed, than when he had last seen
him.
He remembered the last time he had been with him... that is, really been
with him, before the alien... all too well. The long, heaving body, pressed
against his... so utterly alive. So truly him... and then, later, on
the plane, in the car, he realised now what he should have realised then—
the incompassing coldness of the alien in Krycek. It was so obvious, now,
looking back, he would have to ask...
Mulder started as the object of his ponderings turned and focused a green
gaze on him. He could almost hear the half-thought question pass through
Krycek's mind as the eyes narrowed, brows furrowing slightly. Mulder
quickly shifted his eyes to the table, studying with feigned interest the
grease sweating cardboard cartons, mentally changing the subject.
I don't think I ordered that much.
"Krycek, have you been bugging my phone?"
Krycek put down the plates.
"Nah," he replied, "would I do a thing like that?" He grinned winningly at
Mulder, and put the bottle of wine on the table, next to the roses, which
had been placed in a vase.
Mulder sighed. Yes, he would. And he probably has. With some relief,
Mulder almost welcomed the arrival of the familiar waves of anger and hate
as they washed over him. How dare he barge his way into my apartment,
especially when he knows I am at my weakest, after a week at the office!
Krycek sensed his mood and warily took a step backwards.
"You never answered my question before," Mulder said, his voice
dangerously low, "what the are you doing here, Krycek? Just what the hell
are you doing, popping up at my apartment door, food, flowers and wine, no
less!" His voiced had risen, so that by the time he had finished talking,
he was almost shouting. Krycek said nothing, retreating backwards against
the wall.
God. Not again. I thought it could be different this time. Krycek
thought. How am I supposed to explain that to you? You think I'm just
taking the piss out of you.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Krycek?!" Mulder repeated, pinning
Krycek to the wall, their bodies pressed against each other. Krycek
wriggled, trying to ignore the hot tingling Mulder was causing through his
body. He couldn't help it. Krycek groaned out loud, overwhelmed by the
sensation of Mulder's beautiful body against his, then quickly shut his
mouth. Mulder seemed to be his usual, oblivious self, caught up mentally in
whatever turmoil was raging through his mind. He didn't appear to notice
the effect he was having on Krycek. Mulder whipped a gun out of nowhere and
pressed it against the side of Krycek's face.
"If you don't answer me in the next ten seconds then I'm going to blow the
side of your pretty little face off."
Krycek smirked slightly. Pretty little face, eh? Wrong move. Mulder
frowned, and drove his fist, forcefully, into his stomach. Krycek
collapsed, this time groaning for an altogether different reason, on the
carpet. He grimaced as Mulder cocked the gun, the nozzle digging painfully
into his skin.
"Alright. I came here with that stuff as a peace offering, okay?" Krycek
gasped, and lifted his arms up with slow, exaggerated movements, edging
Mulder's gun hand away from his face. "I'm not talking till you put that
away." Mulder nodded and placed the gun on the desk, non-threateningly, but
still within reaching distance if he tried anything, Krycek noticed. He
picked himself up, wincing tightly at the pain in his stomach as blood
rushed down his mid-section.
"I saw the ad and it was too much to resist. I had been planning to come
here, and that ad was just the incentive I needed."
"How'd you know it was me?"
"The phone number, Sherlock..." Krycek broke off, finding himself staring
deeply into Mulder's eyes. The pupils were a slightly dilated, in the dim
light, though Krycek could still see the golden-brown rings lining the
hazel green. His eyes followed the straight line of the nose to the lips,
and had a brief flash of a fantasy of kissing that gorgeous lower lip,
hard, until it was red. Krycek suddenly realised what he was doing and was
about to tear away his eyes before Mulder punched him, when he realised
that Mulder was gazing at him in much the same way.
Mulder fleetingly felt a soft breath brush his lips, before Krycek was
there, kissing him furiously. The soft, yet insistant pressure of his lips
sent Mulder's mind into a frenzy. Krycek felt Mulder stiffen in surprise,
before melting into the kiss... Krycek almost sighed into Mulder's mouth.
He had been waiting for this moment so long—the feel of Mulder's lips
against his, the smell of the man... He didn't stop to consider what Mulder
would do to him, when he finally put together the questionable amount of
sanity he had left, and realised what Krycek was doing. He didn't want to
stop, ever; one, because, fuck, he was enjoying it; and two, because he
knew it would give Mulder the only chance he needed to grab his gun and put
a bullet in his head. Still, he expected the blows to begin to fall any
second...
Mulder was in shock. While Krycek worked his mouth furiously, Mulder's
brain did the same. He couldn't quite work out what had happened—and his
mind kept on going back to what had happened a few minutes before to see
how things had changed so quickly... One second he was interrogating
Krycek, the next they were pressed up against the wall.. kissing. Even
going further back, things still didn't make sense. He arrived home.
Ordered Chinese. Got Krycek delivered to his doorstep. Chinese delivered.
Krycek for dinner... literally... fuck. He knew he had been attracted to
the young agent, from the second he and his bad suit had walked through the
door.. but after everything that had gone on between them, he had doubted
that anything would come of it. Fuck, he had doubted that Krycek was even
still alive... Yet here he was, very much alive, and still turning Mulder's
world upside down.
Mulder came back to reality, noticing that sometime in the last few seconds
Krycek had flipped them round, pressing Mulder's back into the wall. Never
relenting pressure on his lips, Krycek's hands found his, fingers
intwining, as Krycek brought them above his head. For a split second they
were gone, then they were back again, moving with a mind of their own
around his waistband, untucking his t-shirt, and roving underneath it,
rubbing up his chest, tickling already hard nipples harder as they passed.
Mulder felt his shirt being lifted, and Krycek's mouth was gone... the cool
air on his stomach being quickly replaced with Krycek's lips, kissing
higher, lifting the shirt higher as he went. Mulder felt his head clearing,
after the onslaught of his lips was gone. He cleared his throat.
"Krycek..."
"Alex."
"What?"
"Call me Alex," he insisted. Mulder couldn't refuse, with Alex's tongue
continually whirling around his belly button.
"I don't think..."
"Then don't." Mulder stared at the man below him, bewildered.
"Your mind," clarified Alex, punctuating his words with kisses, "gets in
the way of your body. You know what you want."
"What I want is..." Mulder trailed off, his mind malfunctioning again.
What did he want? He was going to say that what he wanted was for Kry..
Alex to get out of his apartment, out of his life... but he also felt he
didn't ever, ever want him to leave again. He hated him, yet knew he
couldn't live without him.
Alex stood up again, pulling off Mulder's shirt with him, before returning
to Mulder's half-reluctant kisses.
"Tell you what," he said kissing, the side of Mulder's pouting mouth
gently, "you tell that fantastic mind of yours to stop panicking, and I'll
look after this," he reached down, gently rubbing the half-erect cock
through his jeans. Krycek felt the cock jump at his touch, and smiled as
Mulder gasped. "Just let your mind go and you can catch up with it later. I
promise you you can beat the crap out of me afterwards, if you still feel
like it."
"I'm not gay..."
"You're not?"
"... And I'm not..."
"Bi either, no. And I'm not Krycek, and you're not Mulder. You see?"
Krycek broke off his relentless kissing, to gaze deeply into Mulder's eyes.
Mulder had to understand he was serious. "That mind of yours is protesting
again. They're just names. Names for things... you'll know if this is
right... this feels right... to you."
Mulder stared into Alex's eyes, which were shining green, glittering in the
glow from the street lights outside. For once, he felt he could believe
what Alex was saying, he knew that here, now, it was all real. This was
real. And Alex was right. Alex waited for a sign. Mulder inclined his
head slightly, an uncertain nod. Alex locked fingers with him again, and
squeezed reassuringly, dragging him across the room, and taking off his
leather jacket on the way. They almost didn't make it to the bed,
collapsing on the edge, tangled in each other's arms.
"You've never done this before, have you?" Alex stroked Mulder's cheek
with his thumb, feeling the where the coarse stubble had formed. Mulder
shook his head. "No matter, plenty of time. What would you like?"
"I don't know," Mulder realised now exactly how ignorant he was in the
ways of the world...
"Don't worry, I'll take it slow," a rumbling chuckle vibrated against
Mulder's neck, warm lips moving downwards, retreating back along the path
they had travelled earlier. This time, however, they didn't stop at the
navel. Alex fumbled with Mulder's belt, helping Mulder remove his jeans and
boxers. He grinned with appreciation at the hard cock, and, bending down,
flicked his tongue teasingly along the weeping slit. Mulder groaned, his
pupils dilating until all that only a thin ring of golden brown could be
seen. He watched, breathless, as Alex whipped his tongue along the
sensitive skin, tracing it around Mulder's balls, kissing the base of the
shaft until Mulder wriggled impatiently.
"Alex!"
Alex grinned cheekily at Mulder as he swallowed his cock whole, still
working his tongue around it inside his mouth. Dark eyes glanced up to meet
Mulder's, then the brown-haired head lowered again, Alex raking his teeth
lightly along the sensitive parts. Mulder moaned and thrust into Alex's
mouth, half expecting him to gag, but Alex took him deep into his throat,
still moving his lips as Mulder thrust harder and faster.
"God, Alex!!!"
With a half-muffled yell, Mulder came in Alex's mouth, grabbing the younger
man's head with his hands as he felt himself surge into the warmth of his
throat. Alex swallowed a large amount, then came up to meet Mulder's mouth
again, kissing him slowly, indulgently, letting him taste the salty
bitterness left on his lips. Krycek sat up and let himself rake his eyes
over Mulder, memorizing every part of him, the way his dark chocolate hair
fell into his eyes, the way he was sprawled wantonly, and content, over the
bed.
"God, you're beautiful." He breathed.
Mulder smiled, exhausted. He let his eyes drift shut, longing for sleep,
and he heard Alex sigh, and lie down next to him. He opened his eyes a
crack and sneaked a glance at his lover.
And he says I'm beautiful. Now, he's the real creature of beauty in
this room.
Mulder could trace the lines of his bunched muscles through his dark
t-shirt, curled up as Alex was between the tangled sheets. Alex was still
almost fully dressed, and he could see through his jeans that he was
sporting a raging hard-on. Mulder knew what self-control it must have taken
him to just let him sleep.
He considered his own state of undress, and then Alex's. Mulder decided it
wasn't quite even. He pounced on the younger man, with a new burst of
energy, surprising both of them. He pulled off the sweater and tight
t-shirt, ravaging his hands over the golden skin and firm muscles.
"Mulder!... I thought you were sleeping."
"No. How could you think I would leave you in that state, poor baby."
Mulder purred in his ear. Alex smiled, his eyes lighting up. This was
better than any fantasy he had ever had. "I want you to fuck me," Mulder
continued, a little uncertainly.
"Are you sure?" Alex was shocked. He had never expected Fox Mulder to
offer himself to him, just like that. Mulder nodded, swallowing.
Alex was off the bed in a flash, almost stumbling in his haste to find his
jacket. He could hardly remember where he had dropped it in the hurry to
get Mulder to bed. He returned, holding a pack of condoms and a small
bottle of lube.
"Where did you get those from?"
"My jacket."
"All prepared, aren't we? Were you expecting this?"
Alex kissed Mulder tenderly on the lips. "I could never have expected
this, not in my darkest fantasies..." He whispered into Mulder's ear, "...I
had hoped though." He pressed the packets into Mulder's hands. Mulder's
eyes widened, eying the waste-band of Krycek's jeans. "Don't worry," he
said, seeing Mulder's concern, "it's alright. Do only what you feel is
right."
Mulder edged closer, placing a kiss on Alex's navel on the way to the top
button his jeans. He slowly undid it, pulling the fly, then the jeans, and
boxers down with it. He stared unabashedly at Alex's throbbing erection,
slowly rolling the condom onto it with hesistant fingers. Then, he squeezed
a blob of cool jelly onto his fingers, applying it gently on top of the
rubber. Krycek groaned, feeling himself grow harder under Mulder's soft
caresses.
My Fox, you have no idea what effect you have on me, do you?
"Okay, Fox, lie on your stomach," Alex managed to gasp out. Mulder
complied immediately, "Now, this is how I prep you.." Alex retrieved the
tube from Mulder, and spread a generous amount on his fingers. He slowly
entered one into the tight ring of muscles, feeling them tense, before
Mulder made a deliberate attempt to relax. Soon another one joined the
first, Mulder gasping as Alex purposely let one rake along against his
prostate. After the third one, Mulder felt himself growing hard again. Then
the fingers were gone. Mulder growled impatiently, but fell silent as he
felt Alex's cock pressing against the opening.
"You ready?"
"Uh, yes."
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Alex asked again, though
in truth, he couldn't have handled it if Mulder had declined, "I mean.. you
could, uh... wait for another..."
"Alex," Mulder said, twisting his head to look him in the eyes, "there may
not be another time. Yes, dammit, do it! Yes!" He repeated, seeing the look
of hesistancy in the other's eyes.
Krycek gave Mulder no second chances, he could feel the older man's
indecision and knew if he left it too long then Mulder would almost
certainly back out. And miss out on all the fun. He slowly bore down on the
opening, rocking himself deeper gently, easing himself into the hot
tightness.
Mulder shut his eyes, the sensation was incredible, although admittedly the
pain of the large cock inside him was excrutiating... he soon found the
pain to only heighten the experience, making it all the more real and sent
his mind into fits of ecstasy. He began to thrust backwards, in time to
Alex's thrusts, impaling himself backwards onto him. Alex picked up the
pace, panting, driving recklessly into Mulder.
"Mulder... Fuck! Mulder!!! I... I'm... "
He was so tight.. so hot and so tight... It was impossible, he couldn't
last. He came into Mulder, screaming his name, and Mulder shuddered seconds
later with a second, though no less spectacular orgasm. Alex collapsed on
top of Mulder, both a sticky mess of sweat and semen, falling asleep within
a few minutes.
Later, exhausted, they lay wrapped in each other's arms. Alex was still
asleep, dead to the world, though Mulder was still awake. Contemplating. As
Alex had said, his 'mind had caught up with him', and he was worrying over
what had happened.
What have I got himself into??
Mulder took just one glance at the dark head nuzzled against his shoulder,
and knew that, although he couldn't believe it, he had found what he had
been searching for.
The ad had worked, but he had no idea how he was going to get Scully to
lend Alex a dress to wear to the dinner.
The End?
Roses and Wine
by Krishaela
Mulder stared at the paper, his face frozen in an expression of utter
shock.
It was early evening when Mulder finally stumbled through his apartment
door. He smiled fondly, yet tiredly at the rooms inside. Customized to his
liking, as they were, at the moment he hardly got a chance to see them in
full daylight, leaving early in the morning and arriving late at night—
they were either dark or artificially lit. His missed them. Mulder pined
for the week-end, the end to this sweaty week of Summer heat and clearing
up the dead-end cases.
