He picked up the phone, dialed *69, and then sprawled on the couch. After a
couple of rings, a wary voice answered, "Yeah?"
Mulder didn't say anything for a moment. Just listened to the sound of Alex
Krycek's breathing. It sounded just a little fast.
"Mulder," sighed Alex. "What do you want?"
"Now why does that sound familiar? How'd you know it was me?"
"Hello? You don't think I'd have 'Caller I.D.'?" Krycek replied with an
audible smirk.
"Yeah, I guess with so many people out to kill you, it pays to know who's on
the line. Had any attempts on your life lately?" Now it was Mulder's turn
to smirk.
"Why? Want some tips for the next time you want to take a shot at me?"
"Hey, I may have kicked your ass a few times, but I've never tried to kill
you."
"Did you forget why Scully had to shoot you that time outside your building?
I should have sent her some flowers or something. Oh, that's right, I
forgot. She hates me." Krycek chuckled darkly and said, "You know, she was
so jealous of me during our brief foray into partnerhood. She knew I could
take you away from her."
"Take me...? You took her away from me, you dumbass," replied Mulder
incredulously.
"I had a very minor role in all that, and you did get her back. You can
really hold a grudge, can't you Fox-don't-call-me-that?"
"No, please," groaned Mulder. "Don't start that again."
"Well, you won't let me call you 'Fox' even after all we've been through
together. So what can I call you? Sweetheart? Babycakes? Snickerdoodle?"
Mulder had forgotten how well Krycek could do 'innocent'. The man had
clearly missed his calling as an actor because he had managed to say those
ridiculous names with a straight... voice.
"Do you have to call me anything? Do you even have to call me?"
Mulder felt control of the situation slipping from his hands, as usual, when
Krycek replied, "Hey, hey buddy, this time you called me."
"Yeah, and I don't know what I was thinking. I'm going to hang up now,"
stated Mulder matter-of-factly.
"No, wait!" Alex spoke quickly, without the underlying amusement of
previous comments. His voice was a darkly sensuous purr, "Talk to me,
Mulder. What made you call me back?"
Mulder shivered and thought for a moment before reluctantly answering, "Tic
Tacs."
"Tic Tacs," Alex repeated flatly. "Tic Tacs?"
"Yeah, Tic Tacs."
"Mulder, would it be too much trouble for you to speak in complete
sentences? What about the fucking Tic Tacs?" The impatient tone didn't
detract from the smoky sensuality of Krycek's voice.
"You left them here. Cinnamon, just like the old days. Which reminds
me...what was the deal with the Polo?"
"What? Mulder, what are you rambling on about now?"
Mulder smiled to himself, determined to keep Krycek as off-balance as he
himself had been lately. This could turn out to be a lot of fun.
"Remember when we first met and you were pretending to be an FBI agent?"
"Hey, I was an agent."
"Whatever. Do you remember how you wore Old Spice after-shave all week
except for Fridays when you wore Polo? Well, I've always wondered why you
only wore Polo on Fridays."
"You're so weird. You could ask me just about anything, and you ask about
my after-shave? No accusations of murder and mayhem? No questions about
alien projects or global conspiracies?"
"I was curious..."
"Yeah, that'll get you killed someday. I'm curious about something too.
What are you wearing?"
Mulder gulped and wondered if there was any point in fighting this dark
seduction. Maybe he should play along and see what happened. He glanced
down at his faded Redskins t-shirt and smiley-face boxers and winced. He
lowered his voice and said, "What do you think?"
"I want you to be naked or maybe wearing a pair of black silk boxers and a
studded slave collar."
"Stud—studded..." repeated Mulder faintly, but Krycek continued as if he
hadn't spoken.
"But, more realistically, I figure you've been home long enough to change
clothes, and you would pick something practical and comfortable—like sweats
or jeans—just in case you get an unexpected late night visit."
"Visit? Are you coming back?" Mulder mentally smacked himself as soon as
the needy-sounding words left his mouth then tried to cover. "I mean, any
time you want to pass on information about what your Syndicate friends are
up to... I could use a new source since I'm out of the X-Files. You want to
tell me what's going on in your murky little world?"
"I'm pretty much on my own right now. Looking out for you on occasion, but
mostly just getting by."
"Poor baby. Must be rough not being able to sign up for unemployment,"
replied Mulder with a bit of his customary sass. He leaned over and picked
up the empty vodka bottle.
"Yeah, well don't worry about me. I used to make more in a week than you do
in a year, so I've got plenty saved up. And a much nicer apartment than
that interesting specimen of yours."
"Why don't you retire to some nice tropical island then, if you're so rich?"
Mulder idly spun the bottle between his hands as he thought about Alex lying
naked on a hot sandy beach. He almost groaned as his
already-came-once-should-be-finished-for-the-night-body started hardening
with arousal.
"Because there is still work to be done. And besides, what would you do
without me to kick around?" asked Alex with gentle amusement and a
remarkable lack of bitterness.
"Probably get a good night's sleep," answered Mulder absently as he twisted
the cap off the bottle and took a sniff. He gingerly touched his tongue to
the rim, wondering if Alex had drunk straight from the bottle. If his mouth
had been where Mulder's now was. The thought sent a thrill through Mulder's
gut and made his cock throb almost painfully.
The sound of Krycek's laughter brought his attention back to the phone. The
man was nearly hysterical, and Mulder was at a loss as to why for a moment.
He realized what he had said and how Alex must have taken it, as if thoughts
of Alex kept him awake at night. Of course, this was sometimes true, but
Krycek didn't need to know that.
While Krycek tried to get himself under control, Mulder turned his attention
back to the bottle. Since there was no glass on the table and Krycek
certainly wouldn't have washed the dishes, Mulder decided he must have drunk
the vodka straight from the bottle. He sniffed one more time but didn't
detect anything out of the ordinary. He ran his tongue around the rim and
imagined he could taste Alex in the traces of vodka that clung to the glass.
He shivered with the faint sting of the alcohol and did it again, this time
dipping slightly into the bottle.
The bottle clinked ever so gently against the phone and Mulder froze. Of
course, the bat-eared boy heard and asked "What was that noise, Mulder?"
Mulder stopped making love to the bottle and answered a little too quickly,
"Nothing."
"That sounded like a glass bottle. An empty glass vodka bottle. Just
how weird are you, Mulder?" Alex asked slyly.
"I was just drinking a beer. That's all it was," replied Mulder, trying
not to sound defensive and give away the lie. "Now what were you laughing
at?"
Alex ignored him and asked his own question, "So does this phone call mean
you want me too?"
"More than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick."
"I can give you a poke, all right. That would be no problem at all. Want
me to come over right now, Mulder? I can fulfill all your fantasies."
Krycek was purring now and giving Mulder a hard-on a cat couldn't scratch.
"No! I didn't say I wanted you, and I did not say I had any fantasies."
"Come on, Mulder I can hear it in your voice. I'll bet you're hard as a
rock right now, aren't you? Are you holding your cock in your hand as you
talk to me? Are you caressing it to the rhythm of my words?"
"No, of course not." Mulder slipped his boxers down and proceeded to do
just as Alex described. He pictured Alex on the other end of the line with
his sultry smile as he listened to the almost hypnotic flow of words.
"How big is it, Mulder? I've seen you in a Speedo, remember? You may be
skinny, but you're big where it counts, aren't you? I'd like to see how
big. Ever had anybody deepthroat that bad boy? I bet I could do it. I
have all kinds of talents."
Mulder drew in a deep breath and tried not to give in to the pictures his
brain was cooking up. Alex on his knees taking Mulder's cock down that long
gorgeous throat, squeezing in warm wetness. His eyes rolled back in his
head as his fingers mimicked the tongue action he imagined Krycek was so skilled at.
"Oh and Mulder, not to brag or anything, but I have some pretty impressive
equipment too. So if you want that poking you've been asking for over the
last five years, I can do a very thorough job of it. I like to go in real
deep and hard. You like that, Fox-don't-call-me-that?"
"Oh, yeah..." Mulder moaned as he dropped the phone and came into his hand.
The second orgasm of the night was just as spectacular as the first, if a
little less abundant in actual output.
He calmed himself and picked up the phone to hear a hoarse, breathless voice
say, "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"
Mulder let out a little laugh and said, "I don't know. How good was it?"
"It was so good I'm going to put your number on speed dial."
"I'm crushed. You mean it wasn't already there?"
"Good night, Mulder. Eat some Tic Tacs and think of me. Pleasant dreams,"
offered Krycek, and then he was gone.
Mulder smiled and answered the emptiness, "No doubt about that, Alex, but
now I'm sure I'm insane. It's not really as bad as they make it out to be."
Then he took Alex's advice. And they were, indeed, very pleasant dreams.
The Next Voice You Hear
by Amy B
After a refreshing shower, Mulder didn't feel quite as tired anymore. It
was too early to go to bed or rather the couch, not that he would sleep much
anyway. Obviously a video wouldn't hold his attention, and he didn't feel
like working. He paced restlessly around the living room for awhile until
his eyes fell on the box of Tic Tacs. He smiled slightly as a sneaky
thought struck him.
