The memories of the night before flood back into the surface of his
consciousness, the forefront of his mind overwhelmed under the sudden onslaught
of impressions.
Alex Krycek. Whoever would have believed it? He grins to himself and turns over.
The bed is empty. His cheer slips away and he lifts his head, looking around the
room. Krycek's clothing is nowhere to be seen. Even his boots are gone. Feeling
the sheets, they are cold to the touch. A tiny dart of misgiving is niggling at
him but he ignores it. He has a long journey ahead of him.
He sits up and yawns again, placing his feet on the cold hardwood floor. Too bad
the waterbed didn't burst this time. He really wishes it had. He's never going
to get his deposit back on this place anyway, and it would be so fitting after
the trouble that the manager gave him after that first time it soaked through
all the way down to the apartment below.
Mulder pulls on his sweatpants and a t-shirt and, after a grimace at the cold as
it's seeping into his feet, a pair of socks. In the bathroom, he splashes water
on his face and tries to ignore the feeling of despair and melancholy that is
starting to overcome him along with the cold.
A flare of anger hits him, surprisingly. Son of a BITCH. Couldn't even say
goodbye.
He feels screwed, and screwed over. So much for hearts and flowers, so much for
love, he thinks caustically. And so much for trust. I should have known. The
bastard's never been consistent—why did I actually let my guard down and
believe that he had changed? Hell, how do I even know it was really HIM? I
watched his body hit the ground after Skinner's bullet ripped-
Stop. Don't go there. I don't need this, I don't need to be dwelling on the
memory of a dying man when I probably fucked myself on the facsimile of his
corpse.
Maybe it was all a dream anyway. But he can't believe that; his ass still hurts.
Mulder sighs, looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It's all foggy.
He rubs away at it, but the condensation is so thick that it creates smears and
just makes him look even more wiped out.
The Fucker's gone and left him. With a resigned sense of reality and futility
now firmly in place, he leaves the bathroom and enters the living room. The room
looks normal, like Krycek's arrival the night before could easily have been a
dream.
In the kitchen, however, he sees Alex Krycek in a sweater and his ubiquitous
black jeans, looking up at his appearance in the kitchen doorway.
He stops. No wonder the bathroom mirror was steamed up. Krycek must have
showered.
With a wide-eyed expression, Krycek stares back at him, as if unsure what to
expect. "I made coffee." He's holding a half-eaten piece of toast.
What? Mulder stares at him, rather surprised at how glad he feels to see Krycek,
even after believing he'd left. He smiles.
And then says, "What the hell? Where did youä Why'd you go? I've already got
coffee—and bread."
Krycek gives him a funny look. "We're going on a road trip, Mulder. I had to go
pack and get supplies."
"Supplies?"
Krycek nods at a package on the kitchen counter. "We used up all your lube last
night."
Mulder grins. "Yeah, we did, didn't we?" The surreality of knowing that Krycek
hasn't screwed him over again and actually appears nervous but committed to
going with him, wellä It's heartwarming. Mulder realizes also that his
assumption that Krycek had deserted him again was based on events from the past.
It is a reaction to a Krycek he knew before, not the one standing before him
lookingä delectable. He can't stop grinning in fact, and he watches as a little
uncertain smile is echoed on Krycek's face at last.
God, those eyes. Staring back into his, entreating, begging, pleadingä He wants
to drown in them. And in him. Shaking himself slightly, Mulder asks, "Shall we
take your car or mine?"
Krycek raises a brow at him. "Depends where we're going." He turns to pour a cup
of black coffee and then hands it to Mulder.
Taking it, Mulder sips cautiously. "Well, I thought we'd leave the car at a
station. Abandon it, and take a train. They're unlikely to realize that's what
we've done, by the time anyone who's looking for me catches on. As for our
destination, I thought Arizona made sense."
A furtive look crosses Krycek's face before he can stop it and Mulder frowns
slightly. Krycek must know something. But Krycek merely says, "If you think
we're going to travel like a couple of hobos, you've got another thing coming.
I've got more than enough money and resources to put us up in 5-star luxury
every stop along the way."
A sense of pride and self-respect digs at Mulder, not to mention the suspicion
that Krycek must be dipping into some foul stash of misappropriated funds to be
able to afford such accommodations. But he's hardly in a position to argue it
with Krycek, seeing as his father's blood money had raised both him and his
sister Samantha up to the point where she'd been taken, and had actually got him
through college. He sighs. "No, that's not necessary. I won't allow-"
"I've already booked a flight to Helena and a room for us in the Hilton."
A self-satisfied little smirk finds its way onto Krycek's mouth, curling his
lips in a fashion Mulder used to find infuriating enough to galvanize him into
beating it away with his knuckles. He notes absently to himself that now it
simply makes him want to kiss it away instead. Kissing Krycek seems to reduce
him from a smug, overly contented danger to a shy, attentive marshmallow.
But he knows if he starts kissing the man now, he won't be able to stop. The
urgent need to get away and get a head start on the day's travels is warring
with his cock's sudden insistence for more action, even after the two
earth-shattering orgasms he's had not four hours before.
Letting out a breath, Mulder repeats, "Helena? Montana?"
Krycek nods. "For starters. Any particular reason why Arizona is our final
stop?"
Mulder narrows his eyes. "What do you think?"
Krycek looks away and won't meet his gaze now. "Gibson Praise," he says, with a
sniff and that trademark lift of his chin. Like he's trying not to give in to
insecurity and trying to bolster his confidence. Like he's got a guilty
conscience. Which gives it away.
"How'd you know? Monitoring my calls, Krycek?" Mulder keeps his voice light and
sips at the hot coffee, waiting.
Krycek throws him a slightly surprised glance. "No. It just seems like the
obvious answer."
"I'm curious though. How'd you know Gibson's in Arizona? Do they keep tabs on
him still? How would they know where he is?"
Krycek shrugged. "I don't think 'they' do. I just know that Smith's group keeps
track of him because he's special. They know where all the hybrids are." He
gives Mulder a look. "Including you."
It's Mulder's turn to lift his eyebrows. "Do tell."
Krycek gives him a little smile. "Implants, Mulder. They're an amazing thing."
Mulder sighs expansively. "Let's see, just how many factions have implanted me,
so far? How many would you say I have? My ankles? My sinuses? My ass?"
Krycek shakes his head. "I'm sure we can rule out your ass, after the thorough
examination I gave it last night. But if you want me to probe you again, hey,
it's your dime. And my pleasure."
Mulder unaccountably feels his cheeks going warm. It's a curious sensation,
because after all the years of making Scully squirm and blush, to be on the
receiving end isä interesting. But Krycek is getting too personal and cocky for
his liking. The whole 'gay' aspect of this isn't why he'd let it go so far last
night. He realizes he's going to have to re-establish his role in thisä
relationship. "Maybe I should return the favor, Alex, and give you an anal
probe. Just to be sure."
"Anytime, anywhere," Krycek shoots back, his eyes sparkling a little, meeting
the challenge with far too much enthusiasm for Mulder's liking.
Mulder feels strange, simultaneously powerful and excited at having this
sexually humming connection with Krycek, now that it's out in the open. But he
also recognizes a certain amount of trepidation. Does Krycek think he's on top,
here? His male pride quickly senses the need to assert itself. But he can't
afford to start a scene now. He hasn't even finished his first cup of coffee.
And they have a lot to do.
He doesn't reply, merely returns Krycek's gaze, who, he notes with some
satisfaction, quickly turns from intense to resigned. Mulder swiftly notices a
curious sensation inside at this, too. Seeing Krycek vulnerableä it makes him
feel strong. It also makes him feel possessive. He puts down the coffee on the
counter and watches as Krycek finishes the last of his toast. With a lift of his
head, he says, "Why Helena?"
Krycek shakes his head, once. "It's just a stop along the way."
Dryly, Mulder queries, "What makes you think you can just plan our itinerary
without consulting me? I already had a route planned out, and where I'd be
stopping."
Krycek leans back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. But
he's grinning. "Which would you prefer, Mulder: a hard pallet covered with a
blanket in a cold boxcar, or a king-sized bed in a honeymoon suite with room
service, free porn and blowjobs on request?"
"Depends who's giving the blowjobs," Mulder rejoins.
Krycek scowls. "What about Scully?"
"What about her? I don't really need her to give blowjobs if I've got you, do
I?"
"Don't you want to, you know, say goodbye?"
"We already did all that, last night." At Krycek's look of relief, Mulder is
touched.
Laughing quietly, Mulder steps up to him and puts his arms up around either side
of Krycek's head, bringing him in close before whispering against his lips,
"Helena it is, then." Krycek's gone stock-still and silent, and Mulder gently
but insistently kisses him, licking across those lips that admittedly will look
fantastic wrapped around his cock, and sliding his tongue into that pretty
mouth.
Krycek's arms have gone around him tightly and he's moaning against Mulder's
mouth, almost inaudibly, soft little moans that jerk and pull at Mulder's groin,
practically losing him to the idea of pushing Krycek down here and nowä that
lovely mouth on his dick, God, yesä
Krycek pulls away, stepping back but holding onto Mulder's arms. Breathlessly,
Krycek points out, "We have to get going. Drink up."
Mulder obediently picks up his coffee and chugs some of it down. "I could do
with a hand packing up some of my things."
"Consider it done. What do you want me to do?" Krycek looks efficient,
preparedähis. All his.
Mulder smiles at the thought.
Krycek raises a brow. "Mulder?"
Mulder sucks his lower lip between his teeth and nods. It feels right, like it
should have been this way all along. "We finally got it right, didn't we?"
Krycek looks a little haunted.
Mulder frowns. "What is it?"
Krycek licks his lips. "It—still feels too good to be true."
Mulder downs the last of his coffee. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
We're here; we're together. Don't worry it out of existence before it's had a
chance to develop."
Krycek nods, imperceptibly and then moves away, past him. At the kitchen
doorway, he says, "Want me to put your clothes in the spare bag in the bedroom?"
Mulder says, deliberately, "Yes, love."
Krycek freezes, tensing. Then he licks his lips again. And lets out a heavy
breath. "Shit. We're never gonna get out of here," he mutters. He shoots an
accusing glare at Mulder. "We don't have time to get into anything."
Mulder shrugs. "My ass hurts too much, anyway." And he chuckles, as Krycek
grins.
Alex is driving. He's had to put on a pair of shades because the morning sun is
so bright against the windshield. It didn't take them long to get Mulder's
things ready and the bags out to his car which he'd already filled with his own
stuff while Mulder slept. He didn't get enough sleep but he doesn't care. It's
better than insomnia, in any case.
He can't stop a private smile from sliding over his face at the memory of what
transpired the previous night. With nothing to lose, he'd taken a chance and
ended up gaining everything. Jackpot, the lottery, the golden ticket.
Mulder has fallen asleep in the car in the seat beside him during the drive.
They're taking an alternate route to another airport, just because Mulder has
been through Dulles so often in the past ten years that he'd probably be
instantly recognized by someone.
He can't stop surreptitiously taking long gazes at Mulder's sleeping profile.
The bright morning sunlight is falling directly onto Mulder's face and it
illuminates him like a marble god brought to life under its rays. Alex finds
himself checking the impulse, yet again, to take his gloved right hand off the
wheel and caress Mulder's cheek, his jawä
He tightens his grip on the wheel and tries to control his breathing.
He feels a little like a chauffeur, and is quietly rejoicing in the glory and
honor of being allowed to travel with Mulder, to actually help, to actually take
care of him. He never expected Mulder to let him. And he was absolutely amazed
when Mulder backed down so fast and justä allowed him to take charge of their
itinerary. He felt it was a giftä that Mulder would trust him and actually let
him prove himself to Mulder. Not to mention make it up to him for all the times
in the past that he hadn't been overtly there for him.
Alex still couldn't help thinking that there had to be a catch in this scene,
somewhere. But he wasn't going to fuck it up this time. Not when it seemed that
he had a real chance, a real hope of being with Mulder.
He glanced over at Mulder again, wonderingly. Mulder, trusting him. Mulder,
loving him. Accepting him. Forgiving him. It was a miracle. An even greater
miracle than finding himself resurrected, Jeremiah Smith's quiet, dignified
countenance hovering over him after a terrible fall into blackness in the wake
of his demise in the FBI car park.
It had been black, cold, harsh and horrifying, sliding into a coma-like state
only to find himself revived, his lungs screaming at the new sensation of taking
his first breaths like a newborn baby. That horrific sense of disorientation,
time loss and falling, as he realized—no, not alive again, please! No more.
Rest! But to have to continue to live. He'd wept. And then Smith had placed his
hand on Alex's forehead and a restful, peaceful darkness had come.
Unfortunately, his memories were intact and pure so he'd been unable to seek
refuge from the pain of the past and his own death. But with the Healers' help,
he'd recovered. Not being one to wallow in safety or self-pity, Alex had left
them even as Smith had cautioned him that he needed more time. But Alex had
never done well existing on the charity of others. And besides, he wasn't
exactly happy to find himself still carrying on. Smith had explained that he was
clearing a debt, for having saved Fox Mulder's life in giving him the vaccine
that brought the man back. Smith had felt he'd failed Mulder, and owed Alex for
having done the deed for him. This was his payment, to restore Alex to life.
Disgruntled, Alex had not killed himself although the depression that followed
was terrible. He couldn't do it, not when Mulder was still alive. That was when
he'd realized he was well and truly fucked: he was in love. It had been scary to
know that love was why he kept going, and that it was his new ideal. His only
ideal. He had doubted that Mulder would approve or even believe it.
This miracle. Mulder, trusting himä sleeping in the car next to him and trusting
him to take care of him. It was an honor that he wasn't even sure he could truly
do justice, but he'd be damned if he didn't follow through.
As they'd got into the car and pulled away from the curb, Mulder had mentioned
that this was his retirement. Mulder recognized there was little more he could
do, either in the FBI or for Dana Scully or even their son. He had to do
something for himself and in fact was endangering them simply by not removing
himself from the picture. Alex had agreed, wholeheartedly, wishing he could stop
feeling guilty for selfishly reinforcing and encouraging Mulder's reasoning -
for his own selfish purposes.
Finally, finally, the Fox is his. His! The exultant triumph is enough to make
his pulse leap in his veins. A fresh sense of renewed victory flows through him,
revitalizing his hope in the future and helping him to let go of the fear and
the pain of what they'd both been through.
"You look happy," Mulder quietly observes from beside him, making him tear his
eyes from the road in surprise. Mulder's watching him from beneath barely-raised
eyelids, blinking in the sunlight.
"Yeah," he agrees, quickly watching the road again.
Mulder flips down the shade, to Alex's chagrin. He's rather enjoyed watching the
sun on his face.
"How're you doing?" he asks.
Mulder is quiet for a few moments. "This actually feels very familiar to me.
I've been in cars with you so many times over the years, it feels kind ofä I
don't know, second nature."
Alex grins widely. "We have, haven't we?"
He keeps his eyes on the road, and realizes it is Mulder's turn to watch HIM. He
feels a curious hot thrill going over his body at this. To have Mulder's intense
focus on him, it's like having a sentient laser trained on him. It's wonderful
to have the attention and yet a bit daunting. They haven't spoken much since
they got in the car but every word feels momentous, as if they are laying the
groundwork of their new relationship.
"If you need me to take the wheel for a while, let me know," Mulder offers.
Alex flicks a glance at him. "I'm fine. Thanks."
Mulder folds his arms across his chest and sits up straighter. "So, Alex. Talk
to me. Tell me something."
Puzzled, Alex asks, "Like what?"
"How about why you finally decided to come over last night, for starters?"
Alex lets out a breath. Talk about a loaded question. Keeping his gaze intently
fixed on the road, he replies, "I guess I got tired of waiting for life to hand
me lemons and calling them sour grapes."
Mulder considers this. "You're mangling your references. Are you trying to tell
me you're a fruit? Or that I am?"
Alex chuckles and tries to explain. "No, I guess I'm just trying to say that I
got sick of- of not having what I wanted. Of always having to sacrifice my own
desires for the sake of others' needs or what the situation demands."
Mulder appears to be thinking this over seriously. "We're going to be there
soon. In about fifteen minutes we'll reach the airport. I have to say, Alex,
that coincides with what I decided, myself."
"It does?"
"Yeah. When I decided to go into hiding."
Alex allows himself a long look at Mulder. "It doesn't have to be hiding."
But now Mulder is sniggering. "Not with you, it won't be. Our honeymoon," he
adds, meaningfully, a humorous note lacing his words.
Alex shifts uncomfortably in the seat. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Oh, I did," Mulder answers. "You're mine now, and I'm not gonna take any lip
over it, either."
Alex finds his brows climbing high at this. He is stunned, and tries to cover it
with a casual reply. "Oh, really?" There is the sense of a challenge being
thrown down before him. He will take it up. Yes. Just as soon as he figures out
what it is.
Mulder merely sniggers again. Alex finds it more ominous this time. "I'm not
your new toy," he growls.
Mulder merely continues to grin at him, fatuously. It's getting on his nerves.
Abruptly, Mulder's hand is on his right leg, above his knee, the sensation of
that hot hand warming through his jeans and making his cock jump.
"No, you're not. You're my new lover. Exceptä it's not exactly new, is it, the
way you feel about me?"
Licking his lips, Alex grates out, "If you don't want me to pull over, you'd
better stop."
Regretfully, Mulder removes his hand. "You're no fun," he pouts.
Alex can't tell if Mulder is actually sulking or if he's just ribbing him. He's
in the middle of trying to sort out an immediate sense of both trying not to
take it too seriously and wondering if he's not taking it seriously enough, when
Mulder places his hand on his shoulder briefly and squeezes once, before
withdrawing again. "Hey, it's okay. I'm okay with this, here. You and me.
Really."
Feeling awkward at actually feeling grateful for Mulder's reassurance, he
replies, "Me, too. It's justä we're about to get out and about and I'm a little
concerned about keeping an eye out for spooks and ghouls. You never know who
might be waiting around corners, you know?"
"Uh-huh." Mulder's admission has all the weighty tone of someone who doesn't
believe a word of what he's just heard, and in fact knows the truth probably
better than Alex does.
Alex nearly snorts. After all, he isn't even kidding himself. He still can't
believe that Mulder is sincere about them being together. Hell, he'd have a hard
time believing anyone who'd have hurt him as much as he's hurt Mulder over the
years.
And all of what Mulder said to him the night before feels very far away.
He swallows as he takes the turn off the highway to the airport, wishing that he
could just erase the past and enjoy this time with Mulder. But he can't help
wondering if it will last. How long can they keep it up?
Krycek is quiet and watchful, almost hyper-alert as they ditch the car, take
their bags into the airport and pick up their tickets before settling down to
wait to board the plane.
It doesn't take them long, even in the wake of more stringent security after the
events of 9/11, and soon, they're sitting in mutual silence and tension.
Sitting beside Krycek, Mulder wants to talk, to say something to get the man to
relax, to drop the anxiety and tense shield he's erected once more around
himself.
He finds himself wondering if they can really do this, let go of the past enough
to even start to get to know each other. Maybe it's too little, too late. But
no, he resolutely commands in the privacy of his mind, I'm not going to let go
of this now.
It wasn't a hallucination the previous night when Krycek brought his heart to
him and offered it to him, still beating with obvious longing even after all the
years they'd endured the mutual hostility and mistrust.
But he has to go easy. Krycek's obviously still skittish like a wild horse that
didn't yet trust him not to use the crop.
Damn it, just sitting here beside him in a public place is enough to give Mulder
a hard-on. Mulder gulps and squirms in place, suddenly overcome with a previous
fantasy he remembers from years back, of wanting to frisk Krycek bodily,
dragging him away to a private room in the airport for a personal, physical,
full-body cavity search. Mulder finds his gaze drifting down to Krycek's lap, to
his left, and wonders what it would feel like to fuck him. To drag the man's
jeans down over his hips, tearing down his shorts in the process, and baring
that ass. That beautiful cock that he'd salivated over the night before. They
hadn't had enough time to properly explore each other. Jesus, how long was the
flight to Helena, anyway? And how long would it take them to get all their shit
up to the hotel room and get settled with a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door
before they could fuck themselves into oblivion?
Krycek's wry comment breaks his reverie. "Do we need to visit the little boy's
room, Mulder?" He lets his gaze pointedly drop to Mulder's own jeans, which are
obviously rising.
Mulder shifts in his seat, throwing his jacket over himself to hide his erection
and crossing his legs uncomfortably. With dignity, Mulder answers, "Speak for
yourself. I'm just enjoying what's mine." He lets his gaze rove over Krycek
again, openly and possessively.
"Sure," Krycek smiles, secretively.
Too smug. Far too smug, by half. Mulder leans over and says quietly, "I hope you
kept the lube handy, because when we get into the hotel I'm going to fuck you
until you scream."
The smirk drops away from Krycek's face and is instantly replaced with a look
that Mulder can only interpret as pure lust. Desperate, enthusiastic desire.
Krycek blinks, his eyes gone completely dark. "Mulder," he begins, only to seem
unable to complete what he was going to say. His eyes dart around at their
fellow passengers for the upcoming flight slowly filtering into the lounge.
"Damn," Mulder says. "I'm never gonna be able to sit in an airport lounge again
without throwing a boner. Krycek, this is all your fault."
Incredulous, Krycek looks at him. "Fuck, I've been having to suffer that ever
since Hong Kong."
Mulder finds a warm, fuzzy feeling turning his lips up in a goofy smile. "You
have? For me? Really?"
"Well," Krycek explains, "not that I liked having you attack me, but the thrill
of wondering if you might actually be lurking around someplace does tend to make
me dream about airports."
"Yeah, you mentioned that dream last night, didn't you? With the car wash."
Mulder is still smiling at him.
"I don't like flying, I prefer driving. But that's probably because I've been in
cars with you before, too."
"So you get hard while driving too, thinking about me?" At Krycek's little smile
of assent, Mulder finds himself laughing quietly. "That's so cute."
Krycek makes a sound of disgust. "Please."
"No, it is. It really is. That's very sweet." Mulder is sincere.
Krycek meets his gaze momentarily. Then looks down. Jesus, it is so easy to get
to him, Mulder thinks victoriously. And so fun. Krycek isn't blushing yet, but
he suddenly finds himself inspired to try to reach the point where Krycek will.
Gazing at him, Mulder says, softly, "Marry me?"
Krycek stiffens, his knee jerking—in fact, his whole body jerks.
Mulder waits. Sure enough, a rosy hue stains Krycek's cheeks. It flashes over
his whole face this time and Krycek finally raises his eyes to meet Mulder's. He
doesn't say anything. He looks like he can't speak. He looks half-afraid,
half-wild like if they weren't in a public place Mulder might find himself on
his back on the floor with Krycek on top of him. Those eyes stare him down this
time, with too much in them and all unsaid.
Mulder gasps a little, not realizing the full extent of what he's just
instigated with his words until this moment, seeing the depth of Krycek's
response—however unspoken.
"Don't-" Krycek pauses, hesitating with his brows crinkling in that endearing
way he has. "Don't you dare be fucking with me. I mean it, Mulder."
Somehow it doesn't sound like a threat, it sounds like a plea. Despite his dark,
menacing tone.
"I'm not." And to his surprise, Mulder finds himself able to claim it with total
confidence and cool rationality. Because he means it. And wonders suddenly how
he knows that Krycek isn't fucking with HIM.
They both jump as the PA system suddenly and raucously calls for all passengers
for Flight 267 to Helena to report to Gate 3 in Terminal 2.
They silently and swiftly turn to get ready, getting up, even though they are
sitting right next to the airline desk in the lounge.
They are silent. They wait together, until they are finally allowed to board the
plane. As they file along with the other passengers and walk on board the plane,
Mulder thoughtfully considers what he's just done. He lets Krycek precede him,
watching how the man walks with that unconscious sensual grace, like a prowling
cat. And ponders the wisdom and folly of proposing to Alex Krycek after a single
night of sex.
Scully would say he was crazy, but then Scully always said that.
Oh well. It is probably the least life-threatening decision he's ever made. And
then wonders how he can be so at ease and certain that it is.
That Krycek isn't leading him, stringing him along. That it isn't just an act.
But the blush response and erections are too difficult to fake and besides,
Krycek kept blushing and springing boners not at the obvious sexual innuendo -
but when he lets drop romantic wordsä No, Krycek is his.
As they buckle themselves into the seats, Mulder turns in his window seat. He
leans over and whispers in Krycek's ear, "So what's it gonna be?"
Alex's heart is pounding as he looks back at Mulder. He remembers he didn't
really answer Mulder properly and now Mulder's expecting a reply. Marry him? He
was joking, right? Or at least, referring to the whole 'honeymoon' reference.
Wasn't he? How serious is this?
He licks his lips, unable to help noticing how Mulder's eyes drop hotly to watch
his tongue move over them. Swallowing, he manages in a hoarse whisper, "Okay.
When and where?" Calling his bluff.
But Mulder merely smiles at him gently, like he's pleased him, and replies in a
low voice, "Give me your hand."
Alex glances around the interior of the airplane. People are busily putting hand
luggage in the compartments above the seats and somewhere a baby is crying as
people jostle past each other. Mulder's hand is extended, waiting.
Alex takes it, feeling light-headed. Mulder waits. Alex realizes Mulder's
waiting for his full attention and he meets Mulder's eyes, at which point Mulder
squeezes his hand.
Not removing his eyes from Alex's face, Mulder quietly affirms, "I'm yours. Are
you mine?"
Alex tries to speak but his voice is thick and his throat has almost closed up.
He clears it and starts again. "I'm yours, yeah." Mulder's eyes hold his and he
tries to figure what Mulder is thinking.
It's almost too much. He wants to pull away and catch his breath. He realizes
he's trembling slightly and Mulder's hand is steady. Fuck. This isä too much.
Too much all at once. But Mulder's expression is kind. Watching him. Finally
Mulder says, "Okay." And he smiles again, releasing Alex's hand.
The flight attendants are now moving down the aisles on either side, checking to
make sure everyone's buckled in and all is well.
Alex draws in a shuddering breath. How the FUCK is he supposed to sit here for
hours and hours beside Mulder without kissing him, without even touching him?
Because if he touches him, he won't be able to stop touching him and then
they're going to be arrested. Or something.
Hours! He wants to groan. It's going to be torture! It isn't fair. He looks
around them, for the nearest set of toilet cubiclesä Aha, up there, not too far
away. He licks his lips, wondering how cramped they'd be and if he could get
Mulder to join him there. He really doesn't give a damn that anyone might notice
they're both in there, either.
"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" Mulder asks, sardonically, his
eyes also trained on the toilet doors.
"Just trying to cover all the angles. It might be good to have something worked
out beforehand."
"Way ahead of you. I'll go in first, you come in after me—give me about five
minutes, alright?"
Alex stifles a gasp at this and swallows. Covering his surprise that Mulder is
so eager to do this, he grins. "Right."
Sometimes, when he'd previously been in airplanes about to take off, Alex would
get anxious. He is surprised to find that this time, there is absolutely no
concern whatsoever that someone might have followed them aboard, or that there
is anything wrong with the plane, or even that there might be someone waiting at
the other end.
As the plane starts to taxi down the strip, in fact, he finds himself filling
with exhilaration. He's getting harder by the minute. Pretty soon it's going to
be downright painful. He rubs his face and lets out a breath.
Mulder is staring out the window, watching as they pick up speed. "If you want
to jerk-off, I'm sure you could manage to come just as we lift off the ground."
"I'm sure," Alex mutters. "I imagine I could do it even better with you here to
help me."
Mulder turns to him. "Are you asking for my help?"
"Do you want me to go down on you first? Or do you want to do me?"
Mulder shrugs. "Depends who's more desperate, doesn't it?"
Alex nods. "Me first."
"You know, I'm looking forward to this. I've always wondered what it would be
like to make you come in my mouth," Mulder says, calmly.
Alex wonders if anyone would really be surprised if he were to go down on Mulder
here and now, and make HIM come as they took off.
Oh, too late. They are already lifting up into the air, that familiar
stomach-drop quickly replaced with the sense of speed and flight. He finds
himself staring at the seat-belt sign which is still lit up, damn it.
He notices Mulder is watching it, too. And can't help laughing quietly as they
both wish for it to blink off. Off. OFF!
But their plane is still climbing and it's going to be quite a few minutes. His
heart is pounding and he's trying not to think about what he's just avowed with
Mulder. They belong to each other. Mulder is his. HIS. Mulder keeps letting drop
little proprietary remarks. In fact, not even little ones. Pointed remarks,
which make him feel wanted.
The sudden emotion of wistful desire for more than just sex is replacing his
preoccupation with what they are about to do when they can freely move around
the planeä He finds the heat and lust in his body taking a back burner to the
sensation of longing and love requited, consummated at last. Years spent
dreaming about possibly having the regard and affection of Fox Mulderäcoming
true in a strange surreal whirlwind in the last—he checks his watch—fifteen
hours. He hadn't expected hearts and flowers and here he was, getting so much
more. Alex finds he's overwhelmed suddenly. He's been so used to bad news, to
bad situations and pain, as well as being alone. His plate's so full now, heaped
with riches and his heart can hardly believe that it's all real.
Mulder's hand on his wrist brings him back. "You okay?"
The solicitous, caring concern in that beloved voice almost undoes him. "Yeah,
I'm fine." His answer is thick and he looks up at Mulder.
"You're mine," Mulder mouths. Then leans closer and says, "Remember that."
Alex looks down, smiling helplessly. Jesus, if his enemies could see him now.
He's intimidated the best, cowed even the hardest of adversaries and manipulated
hard-bitten politicians, even gotten whole countries to jump to his tune. And
here, with a soft touch, Mulder has the power to justä turn him to putty.
With a ding, the seatbelt sign turns off. His attentive and startled look as he
straightens in his seat makes Mulder laugh beside him. Chuckling, Mulder
unbuckles and stands up. "Excuse me," he says, meaningfully, brushing past him.
Alex can't help watching as Mulder's crotch moves across his line of vision. Hm.
Mulder looks like he's experiencing some major swelling, himself.
The seat beside Alex is empty and Alex realizes they're lucky no one was sitting
there or they would have been treated to an earful. He watches as Mulder moves
up ahead to the toilets and goes into one of them, shutting the door behind him.
He waits. Drums his fingers on the arm of his seat. Waits some more. Checks his
watch. Damn, the minute hand is taking fucking forever. He practices breathing.
Deep and slow. And waits. It's been forty-six seconds. Forty-nine. He's not
gonna make it to five minutes.
He glances outside the window, frowning at the beautiful, bright bank of clouds
below them, the thick pane refracting the rays of the sun with sharp plastic
lines. He sits back, letting out a breath. SHIT! Damn it all. How the hell is he
supposed to wait this long?
Relax. Justä wait. Patiently. He waits as long as he can stand it and checks his
watch.
What?! Only two and half minutes have gone by! He grinds his teeth. A stewardess
stops beside him. "Sir? Are you alright? Can I get you anything?"
He stares up at her. "I'm fine, thanks," he murmurs, wondering if she has any
idea that her very presence is distracting, irritating, and the thought of
having to engage in any kind of extended communication with her is almost
unbearable. But she moves away with a cheerful smile.
Checks his watch again, swallowing. Not even three minutes have passed. His cock
is so hard now that he doesn't know if he'll be able to walk without looking
like a cripple.
Fuck this! He unbuckles and gets up a little too quickly, swaying, and grabs the
back of the seat in front of him. Quickly regaining his feet, he manages to get
to the toilet door and opens it, seeing Mulder inside, and squeezes in. He
manages to shut the door and lock it.
They are face-to-face and so cramped he wonders how smart an idea this was.
Then the smell of Mulder's arousal fills his nostrils and he breathes in. Oh
God. It's too good.
Mulder is laughing quietly. "You look amazing," Mulder says. "Are you alright,
Krycek?"
"Sit down," Alex orders him roughly, his hands going to his belt, loosening it
and managing to rip open his jeans.
Surprised, Mulder manages to balance himself on the edge of the seat. Alex
wishes him luck with balancing on the edge while they do this, because at this
point he's beyond caring. He pulls down his jeans and his shorts, watching as
Mulder's eyes widen.
He whimpers helplessly at the sight of the tip of Mulder's tongue as it dances
across Mulder's fat lower lip. The knowledge that Mulder's mouth is imminently
going to be sucking him into that hot cavern and the remembrance of what
Mulder's tongue tastes like is too much. He gasps, his hips thrusting forward
slightly.
"Please," he breathes. And then gasps again as Mulder leans in and grabs Alex's
right buttock with one hand, the other grabbing his cock around the base.
Mulder's grip is tight and his skin is hot. Alex can't wait. He is practically
panting, waiting for Mulder to come to terms with this.
Oh thank God. Mulder opens his mouth and tentatively sucks in the head of his
prick, the heat and the sweetly wet, silky feel of Mulder's lips on him makes
him cry out. Then a surprisingly unexpected lick of that long tongue lashes
upwards across his glans, making him jerk and groan out loud.
Alex's head is more than light; it's dizzy. He puts out his hands to either
side, grabbing onto the edge of the sink and leaning against the wall for
support. Mulder's mouth is opening wider and taking more of him inside.
OH. GOD.
So fucking GOOD.
He realizes he's said it out loud as Mulder's answering moan reverberates on his
cock, going down to the root and vibrating into even his balls.
Mulder's questing fingers are rubbing against his testicles, which have grown
heavy and tight up against him.
Then one of Mulder's long fingers is slowly inserting itself up along his crack,
between his legs. Alex's own thighs aren't spread wide enough and are holding
Mulder's hand and wrist tightly between them as Mulder continues to worm his way
with the finger. It feels delicious. He tries to spread his legs farther apart.
He can't stop this even if he wanted to, as Mulder's wicked, evil tongue whips
hotly over the head of his cock again, and then again and again, over and over
as if on an ice cream cone. He wants to yell, and sucks each breath into his
lungs repeatedly trying to get air.
He's going to come. So hard. So good. He wants to fuck Mulder's wonderful mouth.
But he's afraid of making him stop. So he tries to stand still and just let
Mulder do it.
Oh God. Over and over, that tongue, and now Mulder's backing up and then letting
Alex's dick slide back into his mouth smoothly, and the rhythm and motion is
driving Alex insane.
Mulder's mouth pulls off of his cock with a wet smacking sound.
Alex's eyes widen in horror. "No!" he gasps out, "don't-"
"Just catching my breath," Mulder manages, licking his lips. "You're fucking
delicious." And makes good on the comment with another dive onto Alex's cock,
this time grabbing a better hold on it while worming his finger in deeper,
rubbing against Alex's anus. As the tip of Mulder's finger slides easily into
his body, he whines, even as Mulder's tongue starts up that whirling motion
again, before taking more of him into his mouth once more.
Alex feels a hot wave rise up his body, reaching with tendrils of shooting
pleasure along all his nerve endings, feeling it in his fingers, his toes,
making him shudder.
Watching enraptured, mute and panting as Mulder's mouth slides back and forth
over him, sucking him in and letting him pull out from between those lush lips,
Alex feels his balls tighten and draw up impossibly. An almost frightening rush
leaps over him, extending from his groin and through his cock, all over him.
And then he's coming in Mulder's mouth, part of his consciousness aware that
Mulder is sucking it all down, swallowing his juice, draining him, not letting
up the sucking even as Mulder continues to move on his cock.
With a keening, choked moan, he empties himself into Mulder, giving it all to
him, pouring out the want and the need and the love.
SO. GOOD. He is crying out. And Mulder is taking it all.
Finally the surges start to recede and he realizes he's standing there
breathless, staring down at Mulder who is licking away the last drops, bathing
the head of his cock with long swipes of his tongue. It's even starting to
become sensitive and a little painful. He backs away and finds Mulder's finger
sliding into him a little deeper.
Mulder withdraws his finger and with another wicked gleam in his eye, he looks
up at Alex and meets his gaze as he puts his finger in his mouth next, and sucks
at it, tasting him.
Alex is speechless.
Mulder tilts his head. "So, how'd I do?"
"Mulder," Alex breathes out, wondering how he can form the syllables.
Mulder chuckles. "Good." He reaches down and helps pull Alex's jeans back up,
leaning in to kiss his wilting cock before pulling his shorts back up over it.
As Alex lets him struggle with getting the belt and the buttons of his fly done
up again, he wonders how the hell Mulder learned to suck cock so well.
Mulder is pushing him back a little and trying to rise. "My turn," he reminds
Alex.
Together, they manage to trade places, Alex ending up scooting his butt up over
the edge of the sink to let Mulder past. Sitting down on the edge of the toilet
seat—fuck this is uncomfortableä he finds himself overcome.
He can't help himself; he leans and takes Mulder around his upper thighs,
pulling him against him, leaning his face against Mulder' right hip, clutching
at his ass with his arms about him. And just holds him like that, with his eyes
squeezed shut.
Mulder's hand comes down on his head and strokes through his short hair. "Alex,"
he says, in a gentle, soft voice.
Heartbeat after heartbeat, breath followed by breath. Alex's eyes are still
closed, and he can feel the hard length of Mulder's erect penis against his ear
where he's pressed against him. But he just wants to enjoy this. To love this
man.
He swallows. "I justä love you."
He keeps his eyes closed. Waiting. Somehow it is frightening to say it aloud,
but at the sameä releasing.
And fortunately, Mulder's voice comes to him from above: "Love you, too."
Mulder is letting him hold him.
With a shuddery breath, Alex realizes he's come down from the storm of his
climax and the hurricane of accompanying sensations and emotions. He realizes
poor Mulder has been waiting his turn and he desperately wants to return the
gift of this experience to him.
He fumbles at Mulder's jeans, opening them, Mulder helping him and then at last,
there's Mulder's long, long cock. Oh fuck, even more large and beautiful than he
remembered from the night before. And now, with it in his face, swaying before
his eyes, he recalls that he didn't get a good look in the dark. He glances up,
at Mulder who is staring down at him with an unreadable expression.
"Always knew you'd be good," he says, admiringly. "And big."
Mulder looks happy at this.
And grabbing at it, he manages to get a good hold on Mulder's cock while Mulder
braces himself in an echo of Alex's earlier stance.
Hungrily, Alex quickly licks his lips and eyes the mushroom head before him,
then licks at it. The salty rich flavor drenches his tongue and makes him
salivate. He lifts off to swallow and then repeats it, licking like a cat.
This elicits the most interesting noises from Mulder, above him. Trying not to
smile, Alex breathes on the head and then nibbles at the gland, letting his lips
go soft and slack, while making his tongue go flat so he can lick with broad
swipes from the base up the stem. Repeating this, he realizes Mulder is starting
to lose it already. Oh, he's close.
Humming happily, he enjoys the smell of Mulder filling his nose, his world, and
lets himself take the whole head into his mouth now, sucking down slowly,
letting the girth of Mulder's cock fill his mouth.
Beautiful. He backs up and does it again, loving the way Mulder groans at his
movement. He licks at the head again. Mulder's precum has a rich buttery taste,
not too salty and not too bitter. It's almost tangy. He realizes he's already
addicted to it, licking with his tongue-tip at the piss-hole of Mulder's
cockhead, trying to taste as much of it as he can.
Mulder is practically squealing, a low-pitched sound that brushes over Alex's
ears with a tender heat. God how he loves making this man tremble under his
mouth, his touch. He makes a silent vow, to do this as often and as regularly as
possible.
But it's time to take Mulder all the way. He can't play around too much, or
Mulder's balls are going to hurt. After all, Mulder's been waiting longer than
he has. He starts to move up and down, back and forth, loving the sensation of
fucking his mouth on this big cock. Mulder is gasping and making involuntary
bucking motions, nearly dislodging Alex until finally Alex reaches around and
holds him still, firmly.
It seems to work, steadying Mulder enough for Alex to really get a good rhythm
going. And without warning, Mulder's cock is suddenly erupting, a gushing cream
fountain bursting inside his mouth. He almost chokes because there's so much.
But he hadn't expected it to taste so good. Hot, flavorful, wonderful, and he
drinks it down. Absently, he's stunned to realize he's never enjoyed this act so
much before. In fact, he's avoided having to do it to men for the most part,
because it never meant this much. But here with Mulder, it's all he can do to
remember not to bite at him because the lust seizes him over and over, as he
works his jaw and lets Mulder fuck his mouth with little thrusting motions.
Mulder is whispering in a strained voice, "Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," over and
over.
The pulsing stops and there's just his mouth, drinking the essence of Mulder's
body, sucking it out of him as Mulder's hand shakily lets go of the sink and
rests on the side of his head.
"Fuck. Alex." Mulder sounds totally out of it.
Alex needs air and he finally, regretfully lets Mulder's cock go. And he looks
up, licking his lips and seeing how Mulder's face has gone all soft, his eyes
all dark and liquid.
Then the ache of his back and the pain in his butt from balancing on the seat
comes surging into his reality and he grimaces. "Gotta get up."
"Yeah," Mulder murmurs, backing away. Mulder tries to do up his jeans but his
fingers are still shaking. "You're fucking amazing."
Alex finds his face split with a grin. "Thanks. You're not bad, yourself."
They manage to get Mulder dressed and Mulder says, "See you soon." Then turns
and manages to get out of the cramped room. Leaving Alex alone with his
afterglow.
Alex washes his hands, and splashes his hot face with water, wondering how the
fuck he's supposed to act normal once he's back out there.
He catches sight of himself in the mirror and thinks, holy fuck. It's very
obvious what he's been doing. His eyes are over-bright and his face is still
flushed. His hair looks like he's just had oral sex in a cramped airplane
toilet. And he grins.
If he'd known it would be like this with Mulder, he would have patiently and
excitedly accepted every lonely night, every solitary day, with an eager and
humble heart.
Mulder's words return to him. 'Marry me'. He has the feeling Mulder wasäreally
serious. That it isn't a game and that Mulder is just doing what Mulder usually
does: going along with the flow of what life hands him.
As Alex brushes his hand through his hair in a useless attempt to straighten it,
he realizes he can do no less. If Mulder believes him, he will believe Mulder.
With a contented smile and a happy glow inside, he leaves, returning to his
seat.
Mulder doesn't say anything as Krycek slides back into his seat next to him.
He's surprised to find himself feeling a little strange at how good it was. He
hadn't expected to love it so much. With a slight sense of shock, he realizes
that he doesn't want to ever have it taken away. He doesn't know what to say, or
even if it's necessary. They've gone so far, so high, launched into the air
above the clouds along with the plane, coasting now on a jet stream of momentum
in thisä relationship.
Everything he's been through, even the long weeks alone, have been burned away
in the current train of events that began last night with Krycek's arrival at
his door.
The arrival of a dead man, carrying his heart before him like a badge of honor
and courage. A sudden thought occurs to him. And he turns to regard Krycek. Who
looks back at him.
"What- what were you going to do, last night, if I didn't let you in? If I
turned you away?"
Something dark and old flickers across Krycek's face. It looks like pain. But
it's fleeting. "I don't know."
Krycek regards him and then, when he doesn't explain or continue, asks him, "How
are you feeling about—us? What's going on in your mind?"
Mulder considers the question. "Two different things. My heart feels lighter. My
mind is kind of blown." He smiles at his own pun and waits for Krycek to smile.
But Krycek says, looking down, "Me too." He looks back up at Mulder, meeting his
gaze squarely. "I don't have any expectations. I'm justä playing it by ear,
here."
"Yeah, me too. In fact, I have to say that it feels good to just drop all the
crap from the past, to just let it go. To say that here and now is all that
counts. To take something for myself for once, instead of having to give it all
up for a future recompense that never shows up. Always having to bank on
happiness in the future without any present joy. Without any moments that are
mine, and mine alone."
Krycek looks thoughtful. "Then thank you for letting me share these moments with
you." And his eyes slide away again. "It means more to me than you'll ever
know."
Mulder suddenly realizes what it is that he's feeling. It's a bone-deep
satisfaction at having the respect, admiration and love from someone that seems
to include his physical being, and his feelings, not just his mind or his
abilities, his work or his passionate quest. People have both feared and admired
him for that. Rarely has anyone wanted him for himself. Krycek wants all of him,
not just a piece. And it makes him feel valued. Wanted. Loved. He smiles.
"How long have you been in love with me?" Yeah, he's fishing, but he doesn't
care.
And to his surprise, Krycek lets out a single laugh, a chuffing breath in an
undertone that doesn't sound mocking but still derisive. "Jesus, Mulder. It's
been so longä" He trails away.
"How long?" Mulder presses, curious now. "Since the beginning?"
"Since before the beginning," Krycek admits, a rather endearing expression of
diffidence seeming to take hold of him.
"What do you mean?"
Krycek has a little smile on his face, which further inflames Mulder's
curiosity.
"You mean before we met?"
Krycek presses his lips together and takes a breath. He lets it out, decisively.
"When they told me I was going to have to go through the actual process of
making my way through the Academy to get into the FBI, that the training would
be necessary and helpful, I didn't know what I was letting myself in for. I
figured it would be helpful, considering I was already working for the KGB and
had graduated from St Petersburg, at the Military Academy, with honors. Thanks
to my father's connections. The Smoker, that smoking son of a bitch, had decided
that I was supposed to be in the FBI because I'd be most useful to the Syndicate
there. I had no idea why. I didn't even know who you were."
"You didn't? You mean you never heard of me? I thought you had." Mulder is
almost disappointed.
"No, no. Not then. But then when I was there, I started hearing things, about
the agent who was into little green men. About 'Spooky Mulder' who stayed in the
basement. At first I ignored it all, but then I also started connecting the
dots. There was a Syndicate member called Mulder, too." Krycek stops, abruptly,
undoubtedly concerned to be bringing up the subject of Mulder's father.
Mulder is merely annoyed at the interruption. "So what happened?"
Krycek continues, "I started saying, you know, like, hey, give the guy a break,
maybe he's not wrong, maybe he's onto something. And they were all 'oooh
Krycek's got a crush on Spooky.' It was juvenile. Then one day I was in the
cafeteria and I was walking by their table and they started saying, 'hey,
Krycek, we're getting a lecture from Spooky Mulder tomorrow'. I shrugged. Like,
why was I supposed to care." Krycek glanced at him. "Now, Mulder, don't take
this the wrong way, okay?"
"What? Take what the wrong way?"
Krycek grins at him. "Well, I was in the lecture hall sitting there, waiting for
Spooky Mulder to come out along with everyone else, expecting to see this pasty,
nervous geek. I mean, the guy practically lived in the basement, you know? I
thought you'd be this gawky, four-eyed nerd whose clothes hung off his bones,
you know the type? Like a stork or something. So imagine my surprise when this
tall, handsome guy walks in with a smooth voice and droll sense of humor, taking
apart the hecklers with a brain so obviously honed and so sharp that it made
them look like idiots. Which they were. But I was shocked. He was gorgeous. I
mean, you were. I don't think I really paid close enough attention to what you
were saying. And to be honest, I don't think most of the others did either, not
the women or the men."
Mulder squirms in his seat. "Wow. So you really dug me back then, huh?"
Krycek gives him a knowing look. "Sure. Imagine my disgust later when the Smoker
shows up at my apartment and says, 'I understand you saw Agent Mulder today.
Were you impressed?'"
"Ew! Krycek. Stop it. That impression's too good." Mulder isn't sure he wants to
hear what happened next.
"Well, I was like, 'yeah, so what?' He just puffed away in my face and said,
'Good. You'll have the opportunity to work with him in the future'. I didn't
know what he meant back then, of course." Krycek suddenly stops. Again.
Mulder waits. Krycek remains silent, staring off into space. Mulder clears his
throat. "What happened then?"
Krycek shakes himself. "Mulder, I- I didn't-" He stops again. And faces Mulder
with a careful expression. Mulder can tell though from his voice and his words
that he is filled with regret. "I didn't know what was going to happen. I didn't
know what they wanted me to do. I swear. And if I'd thought I could get out of
it alive, I wouldn't have gone along with it. I didn't want to hurt you."
It is as close to begging on this kind of issue as Mulder has ever seen from
Krycek. He has to admit that although he is feeling a thrill of power at having
his righteous anger over Krycek's actions, he also didn't want this to
degenerate into another free-for-all of blame. "I know," he says simply, and
then says it again, letting a note of understanding color his words. "I know.
At his reply, Krycek seems taken aback, like he had expected Mulder to get angry
at this point. But he quickly takes it in stride. And offers with a smile, "So,
yeah. I've been in love with you for a long time."
"I thought so," Mulder grins at him. "I knew there was more to that kiss that
you would ever admit."
Krycek scoffs at him with a snort. "Come on; you've known all along."
"I think I was afraid to admit to myself that I knew all along, as it would have
meant admitting that I also felt it myself. That attraction." He looks up and
holds Krycek's eyes. "This thing we have."
Krycek lets out a breath and seems to relax all over. "Yeah. Me too."
"Aren't you glad we made it to this point?"
"Mulder, more than you'll ever know."
Mulder considers him fondly. "Maybe we're blessed, after all."
"Maybe you were right last night, about the phoenix."
Mulder cocks his head at him. "About being reborn?"
Krycek smiles, a smile that reaches his eyes and seems to come straight from his
heart. "I feel like a phoenix. Risen out of the ashes of the past. Reborn to be
able to be with you. You're my sun." He shrugs. "Nothing else seems to make
sense, anyway."
Mulder doesn't know how to reply. He contents himself with taking up Krycek's
hand and kissing it, not caring about the fact that they are not alone on this
flight. No one sees, after all. Not even the stewardesses coming through with
trolleys laden with dinners. And it's worth it, to see the light shining in
Krycek's eyes at his simple gesture.
Having taken flight, they certainly seemed to have made it this far. Mulder can
only hope that it won't be too dark when they return to earth. And then finds
himself overcome at the thought of making good on his promise to make Alex
scream when they reach the hotel. Grinning as he gazes out of the window at the
flocking of white clouds below them, he allows himself the relaxation of knowing
that, at least tonight, it won't be his ass that bears the brunt of their shared
passion.
Yes, he is going to make Alex scream all night long. He hopes the honeymoon
suite is soundproofed.
The Phoenix and the Sun
by Jami Wilsen
The alarm is blaring, cutting into Mulder's dream-state. Opening his eyes, he
wonders why he feels so uncommonly relaxed. Fumbling to turn off the alarm, he
yawns, absently noting that his ass feelsäsore.
