SquidgeWorld Archive

Como Besaras?
by Judith Pordon

Enciendanme tus labios
Nuestros alientos perdidos entremezclandose

Sincroniza nuestro silencio
al perezoso pasar de las horas.

LLeva el aire aromas de cacao,
nuez, canela que me rodean

Tiembla conmigo
con pausas paralizantes

Quizá no pueda respirar más
sin respirarte a ti.

Mulder's face was cold. So were his ears, but the rest of him was nice and toasty. Krycek had showed up at the apartment with an electric blanket late in October. "Because I know how cold you keep this ice box you call an apartment," he'd said. "Remember when I had to stand on a floor vent just to thaw out?"

Mulder remembered. It was early in their //official// partnership, and Krycek had brought over a gift of a book of poetry. Mulder remembered noticing how the cold had made Krycek's nipples thrust against the tight, soft material of his T-shirt. The way he'd breathed on the frosty window in the kitchen, just to melt the skim of ice. Mulder had since learned how hot that breath could be. In fact he was feeling that breath right now--warm and moist against the back of his neck.

The electric blanket wasn't the only reason Mulder was feeling warm. Krycek claimed to be the world's best generator of natural body heat, and Mulder was perfectly glad to concede the title to him. Right now Krycek was spooned up against Mulder, naked body pressed against Mulder's equally naked back. The, intimate warmth was allowing Mulder to do something that he hadn't been able to do much in his life--daydream peacefully.

Again he contemplated the first time that Krycek had been in his apartment. //Well, first time that he'll admit to, anyway. I'll probably never know for sure, and it doesn't bother me anymore. I guess that's as big a sign of how much things have changed between us as anything. I made him coffee to help him thaw out. Neither of us really wanted it, but that's what you do in an awkward social situation. Coffee... Boy, that sounds good. No, not coffee. This is cocoa weather.//

He lowered the covers, and immediately there was a sleepy mumble behind him. "You're letting in a draft."

"Sorry." Mulder hurried out of the bed, jerking the covers back up and tucking them tightly around Krycek's neck. Krycek made a choking sound, then grinned at him. "Bastard."

Mulder grabbed up a set of sweats that he'd left on a chair beside the bed and started to get into them. He was already feeling so chilled that Krycek's warm hand against his back made him arch like a cat. "What are you doing up so early, you A personality asshole?" There was idle affection in Krycek's tone.

"I'm not sleepy anymore, and I want cocoa."

"That's a pretty good reason." Krycek drew his arm back under the blanket. "Going to make enough for me?"

"No, I'm going to be selfish and taunt you with mine. Sure I am, if you want it. I didn't think you were the cocoa kind, though."

"Chocolate? Hell, yeah."

Mulder stood up, pushing his already icy toes into a pair of slippers. "The thermostat must be on the fritz again. I swear to you that I had it set at seventy before I went to bed."

"It //is// on the fritz, and I know because //I// set it to eighty before I joined you."

"You need to start kicking in on the utilities if you're going to do stuff like that."

Mulder hurried into the living room, going right to the thermostat. Without much hope, he turned it up to ninety, making a mental note to talk to the landlord about it later in the day. If he tried calling now the landlord would be pissed about being disturbed at this time of day, and he'd //never// get it fixed. That done, he went into the kitchen and turned on every stove burner. He'd used the stove as a makeshift furnace more than once.

Finally he got a pot and checked the sugar canister. He frowned. He supposed that would be enough--barely--but he'd be happier with there was another fourth cup or so. He got the box of cocoa out of the cabinet over the stove and mixed the dark powder thoroughly into the sugar, then shook the salt shaker over it once. He'd never been able to understand putting salt in anything sweet that didn't need leavening, but he wasn't prepared to argue with a recipe this early in the morning. Then he added water, mixing carefully so that there were not dry ingredients left, and set it on one of the high blue flames. He started to toss the metal spoon into the sink, then paused and licked it clean first.

Mulder took a wooden spoon out of a drawer, and stirred the mixture, waiting for it to boil. //That wasn't bad, but it's not going to be as sweet when I add the milk. There has to be something I can do. I wonder if I have any corn syrup? According to labels they have corn syrup in almost everything.//

He checked the cabinet again. No corn syrup, but... He reached up and took down two rectangular tins. //Viennese Chocolate Cafe, and Hazelnut Belgian Cafe. Hm. Main ingredients for both are sugar, non-dairy creamer, and corn syrup solids. There we go!// He mixed a couple of healthy spoonfuls of each into the simmering chocolate sauce. After a moment's hesitation he reached far into the back of the cabinet and brought down a dusty, almost empty bottle of vanilla. He opened it, sniffed experimentally, shrugged, and tipped the last few drops into the mix.

When he turned to get the milk out of the refrigerator he found Krycek, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him. "Are you //ever// noisy when you move?"

"Only when I want to be. I didn't want to this time."

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough to know that Emeril probably has nothing to worry about." He sniffed. "Smells good, though."

Mulder poured milk into the pot, stirring. "it should taste pretty good. I dunno--I may have over done it a little with the flavorings."

"That's okay." Krycek came over and moved up behind Mulder, looping his arms around his waist. "I like sweet, spicy things." He nuzzled Mulder's shoulder.

Mulder's tone was wry. "You're so full of it, Krycek."

"Maybe, but I'm not lying about this." He kissed Mulder's ear. "You're like that brew you have simmering in that pot, Mulder-- hot, sweet, and spicy."

"I say it again--you're full of it. Get me the mugs and a ladle out of that drawer..." His voice went up a half octave on the last word as Krycek slid his hands down the front of Mulder's sweat pants and gave him a firm squeeze. Just as Mulder was prepared to lean back, Krycek did as he'd asked--the louse. He went to the row of mugs hanging under one of the cabinets, and took a soup ladle out of the drawer, bringing them to Mulder.

He watched as Mulder shut off all the burners and took one of the mugs, then began to ladle the steaming, milky liquid into it. Krycek sniffed, sifting the aroma, and picked up one of the cans, examining it. "You really got creative this time around. Vanilla, cinnamon, hazelnut, coffee, chocolate..." He smiled. "Como Besaras?" Mulder looked up at him. "You understand Spanish, right?"

"Not as well as some, but a lot better than others. What brought that thought on? You already know the answer--you know how I kiss."

"It's a poem," Krycek took the full mug and handed the other one to Mulder. "I ran into it--oh, more than a year ago--when I had a little something I had to do south of the border."

Mulder looked at him, obviously tempted to ask exactly //what// that little something had been. When Krycek didn't elaborate, though, he didn't ask. He just continued filling the second mug. "So, how does it go, and why does it remind you of me?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Krycek lifted his mug to Mulder in a toast, and they both took a cautious sip. Krycek closed his eyes, then licked a faint skim of liquid off his upper lip. "I think you're on to something here. //Enciendanme tus labios, nuestros alientos perdidos entremezclandose."//

"In English?"

Krycek shook his head. "I think it sounds more beautiful in its native language. You can keep up a running translation, if you like."

"Okay." Mulder took a thoughtful sip of the cocoa, then said, "That first one is a toughy. The closest I can come is //turned on// or //lit//, but... From the sound of the rest of the couplet, and the gerund, I'd say she probably meant //enflame//..."

"I love it when you're scholarly. It gets me hot."

Mulder could feel himself starting to blush, but he continued, "So I'd say //You lips enflame me, our lost breath intermingling.//"

//"Sincroniza nuestro silencio al perezoso pasar de las horas." Krycek reached out with his free hand and touched Mulder's cheek.

Mulder closed his eyes at the touch, murmuring, //"Synchronize our silence as lazy hours ease by.// I like that. I like that a lot."

//"LLeva el aire aromas de cacao, nuez, canela que me rodean."

Eyes still closed, Mulder smiled. "Oh, man--the irony of the universe. //Waft cocoa, hazelnut, cinnamon, scents around me.// No wonder this morning reminded you of this poem."

"Not this morning so much as just you, Mulder." Krycek took Mulder's mug away, as he had that first night, and set it aside on the counter. This time when he braced his hands on the counter, bracketing Mulder, Fox didn't tense up. He remained relaxed, eyes opened just enough to see Alex, smiling faintly. //"Tiembla conmigo con pausas paralizantes."//

Mulder drew in a shaky breath, and his voice was husky as he translated. //"Tremble with me in paralyzing pauses."//

Now Krycek took Mulder's face between his palms. He leaned in close and... scented him. Eyes thoughtful, he almost delicately sniffed Fox's hair, cheeks, ear, then throat. Mulder was breathing raggedly by the time Krycek brought his lips a scant inch from Fox's own and whispered, //"Quizá no pueda respirar más sin respirarte a ti."//

Mulder closed the gap, kissing him, mouth soft and open--accepting. It went on for some time. When they finally parted, barely--he said, //"I may no longer breathe without breathing you."//

Mulder wrapped his arms around Krycek in a tight embrace, and they kissed again, their bodies pressed together. This time when Krycek pulled back, he let his hands drop down to squeeze Mulder's ass, and he nipped lightly at the other man's lower lip. "Do you have anything to do any time soon?"

"No."

"Me either. That bed is still a damn sight warmer than this room."

Fox smiled at him through half-lidded eyes. "Our cocoa will get cold."

Krycek kissed him again. "So we'll pretend it's chocolate milk."

How Will You Kiss?
by Judith Pordon

You lips enflame me,
our lost breath intermingling.

Synchronize our silence
as lazy hours ease by.

Waft cocoa, hazelnut, cinnamon,
scents around me.

Tremble with me
in paralyzing pauses.

I may no longer breathe
without breathing you.

Translated by John Ramos