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The Trouble with Assassins
by Aries


The trouble with assassins is this. They kill people. In cold blood. On purpose. And since that's illegal, not to mention immoral the last time I checked, it would be totally insane to get involved with one. Right?

I don't know how the hell it happened. Just snuck up and whacked me over the head one day. Not him, the feeling. A few months ago we'd had another of our encounters, and I'd gotten him good. Dead on, one punch, and he was out like a light. Gave me time to sit and study him. Why I did it, I still don't know. I just did, and we'll leave it at that.

Anyway, he was beautiful, and I'd shocked the shit out of myself for noticing. Long, killer lashes, perky nose...did I say perky? Well, it is...and this pretty little mouth that I'd suddenly wanted to kiss instead of slap.

This presented a problem of biblical proportions. Fox Mulder hated Alex Krycek. That was the way it had been for years. It was like, some cosmic law or something. So, what the hell was this ridiculous desire to kiss the bastard?

I didn't know. Still don't. Probably won't ever know. Anyway, I'd kissed him. And fuck if I didn't like it. I thought for one fleeting moment that maybe it was just some weird, kinky thing. I mean, it was like kissing a corpse but...nevermind.

He'd started to come around. I'd known this because I could feel a soft moan vibrating against my lips, and he'd started to kiss back. I remember wondering what he'd do when he was really, fully conscious, and he'd realized just who it was he was kissing. As a matter of fact, I'd been looking forward to the shocked reaction I was sure I'd get. I wanted to enjoy ruffling him for a change. Damn shit couldn't even give me that.

He'd opened his eyes, or I'd assumed he had since my own eyes were closed, and he'd wound an arm around my neck and deepened the kiss. Talk about being blindsided.

I'd pulled back, staring down into slightly glazed, green eyes...Christ, had they always been that green? And then he'd pulled me down again with this short, soft little animal-type grunt. And my cock, which had been twitching for quite some time just suddenly filled right up and was pushing insistently against my jeans. Wasn't that nice?

I had to make a choice. Pull away and beat him some more or be man enough...honest enough to finish what the hell I'd started.

Ah, fuck.

Again I'd pulled away and looked down at him.

"I hate you."

"I know."

"No, I mean it."

"Uh huh."

"Really."

"Yes, Mulder. I have the aching jaw to prove it."

He reached up and ran his fingers through my hair.

"Kiss me again."

"Are you not paying attention to me?"

"I am." He was whispering. "Kiss me just once more, Mulder, then you can go back to hating me."

"Just one more kiss?"

"Just one."

I wasn't born yesterday. He'd been betting that since I'd not had enough self control to keep from kissing him in the first place, I wouldn't be able to stop at just one more. And he'd figured that if he could kiss me senseless, he'd be able to waltz away while I was still trying to screw my head back on straight. Hah.

"Okay, Krycek," I'd said smugly, refusing to look away first. "One more."

I'd leaned in, covering his mouth with mine, and both of his arms came up around me, pulling me down to his chest, and his tongue worked it's way into my mouth.

No fair! He'd said nothing about tongues, the dirty...

But he was Alex Krycek. Had I really expected him to play by the rules? Yeah, I know, we hadn't set any rules but still...

Going completely against everything I knew I should do, I'd relaxed against his chest and in a quick display of strength, he'd rolled me beneath him, and that had been that. I vaguely remember putting up some poor imitation of a struggle, which he'd easily put down, and he'd kissed me like I'd never been kissed before while his body spoke loudly and clearly to mine.

Then he'd just...stopped. He'd broken off the kiss, lifted himself away, got his feet and looked down at me. I'd seen three of him standing there, and I'd had to concentrate to understand the words that he'd spoken.

"Only one more. I promised."

On wobbly legs, I'd risen to my feet and looked him in the eyes. Though I'd sensed that he was waiting for me to, I'd said nothing, done nothing more. I couldn't.

I'd watched him turn and walk away. Seen him hesitate for half a beat before opening the door, then my heart had begun thrashing in my chest as it closed behind him.

I hadn't wanted that. It hadn't been what I'd wanted at all. But what the hell would I be starting? What kind of hornet's nest would I have been stirring up by going after him?

Quickly I'd determined that I didn't give a shit, and I'd stumbled toward the door, throwing it open. As I'd stepped through it, looking wildly around the empty lot, something had grabbed me from behind. My vision hadn't cleared until I'd been slammed up against the wall of the building, and all too familiar lips came down brutally on mine. I'd responded with equal ferocity, and when he'd finally allowed us both some air, I'd sucked in all I could before dragging him up against me for another round.

"Fucking liar," I'd gasped when we'd separated again.

"Of course I am," he'd smirked. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you by being anything else."

"What the hell are we doing?" I'd asked, truly wanting to know.

He'd shrugged. "Don't know." Then that smirk again. "But isn't it cool?"

"You know," I'd gasped. "There's nothing you do that isn't plotted and planned and..."

"You think I'd planned for you to knock me out then kiss me?" he'd asked. "I'm good, Mulder, but I'm not that good. You started this," he'd accused softly. "How are you going to finish it?"

I'd stared at him for longer than I'd be able to remember, then I'd grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him toward my car.

"I don't know," I'd muttered, opening the passenger's side door and shoving him inside. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Months later, he's here. Still here, lying beside me. Asleep. Warm and naked and flushed with satisfaction. And I've yet to figure anything out. I don't know. I guess I don't want to.

Damn.

The trouble with this assassin is...I love him.

xx

MMCUSN@aol.com

Summary: This is in response to a request made after I posted The Trouble with Assassins
by Aries
XF M/K
PG-13 for language and mild sexual situations
Okay to archive
Feedback? You bet
My response to Peja's "The trouble with..." challenge

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