Alex Krycek's living room is cleaner than Martha Stewart's, and much more
inviting. The cream colored walls and carpeting are bright, yet soothing.
There is no clutter on the recently polished pine coffee table. Each of the
matching end tables sprts a ceramic lamp with metallic gold filigree set
against a cream background, topped with an ivory lampshade. Between the end
tables is what can only be called the couch of my dreams.
Overstuffed. Plush. Black. Leather.
Three large gold pillows lay invitingly on the couch. I just want to melt
into the couch, and stay there for a week. Or forever...
"Uh-uh, Mulder. Not until you bathe."
Spoilsport. And just when I spotted the huge entertainment center, complete
with state-of-the-art stereo system and big screen TV.
He's right, though. It would be sacriledge to sully this incredible couch
with eau de ripened Mulder.
"Bathroom's to the left, just before the bedroom. I'll go get you a change of
clothes." Alex doesn't move, just looks at me. "You doing okay, Mulder?"
Oh, yeah. Four days ago I was dead. Now I'm healed, and about to scour off
months of grime, all the while being protected by one of the most dangerous,
fascinating men alive. Things are definately looking up.
"Better than okay. Thanks to you, Alex."
The blush rises high on his cheeks as that dark forest of lashes sweeps down
his lowered eyes. It's only as I put my hands on his shoulders that those
vivid green eyes rise to mine.
"You took a huge risk by saving me, Alex. You won't regret this."
I almost don't hear his response, his voice is so low. "I never could."
In front of me now is the Alex I can love: the open, vunerable, increadibly
beautiful man who brought me back to life. The man I've wanted for almost
seven years. The man I want more than anything. Right now.
Our first kiss is languid, soft and utterly sensuous. Lips part, tongues mate
and slide, both of us tasting, searching, loving. Our bodies mold together,
hearts pounding, pelvis grinding against pelvis, our arms enfolding us in a
death grip. His shudder is my moan, my arch is his sigh. His breath is mine,
mine is his, and we are one. The coiling pleasure, the explosive spasms,
the pulsating heat are ours, doubled, shared.
Amazingly, we are still standing, as we waver and shake and try to catch our
breath. God, what will this be like in a bed? We will find out soon. Very
soon.
"Mulder?"
"Yes, Alex."
"Are we... okay?"
Hell, yes! But I can phrase it better than that.
"We're more than okay, Alex. We're together. There's only one thing we're
missing."
"What's that?"
"A nice, hot, long shower."
Ruuummble.
"Oh, and dinner."
Fox Mulder kissed me, and I came in less than five minutes.
So did he. This is wonderful.
Yeah, I envisioned something a little more...detailed in the various
fantasies I've had of Mulder over the years, but, hell, after seven years of
foreplay, it was bound to be explosive. And quick. And fucking fantastic.
So maybe we should stop groping each other in the middle of the living room,
and head for that hot shower Mulder suggested. And I should feed him; he's
gonna need all his strength, and then some.
Tomorrow we tackle conspiracies and aliens. Tomorrow we'll find out if this
can survive more awful truths and painful sercrets. Tonight...he's mine.
And I'm his.
Fuck. No matter what, I'll always be his. And no matter the dangers, I will
protect him.
"Alex..."
"Yes, Mulder, shower. Now. Let's go."
"Will you wash my back?"
That was lame. So why is my cock standing at attention? Because he's
gorgeous, he's Mulder, and I love him.
"Tell you what... I'll wash everything except your back."
Another Mulder-grin, and I'm melting. No doubt I'll wash his damn back, too.
And enjoy every moment.
End part 6
Resurrection and Redemption VI
by Ann H
I have just entered the Twilight Zone. This is just too surreal.
