It was that kiss, you see. That little peck on the cheek had brought
back the feelings—the desire—I'd felt for him back when we'd
been partners. And, it had made me examine my rather physical
reaction to his proximity. I'd decided to change my attitude towards
him—to see if he was experiencing similar confusion regarding our
association.
Bear this in mind, and maybe you'll understand why I didn't fight
when he rushed me as soon as I walked in the door. Well, I did get a
little tense at first, but as soon as I realized who had attacked
me, I relaxed and went along with it.
My lack of resistance threw him right off balance—metaphorically
speaking. He froze, holding me pinned to the wall with his body and
waited.
I rested against said wall, turning my head to one side so I could
speak. "Evening, Krycek. Wanna beer?"
"You—" He paused, then stepped back, holding one of my wrists way
too close to my shoulder blades for comfort. "Mulder, we need to
talk."
"Good. Fine. Let's talk. Mind if I have a beer?" I asked cheerfully.
His voice lowered suspiciously. "Are you drunk?" He leaned forward
and sniffed.
Well now.
"You don't smell like liquor. Been drinking the water again?" he
sneered.
"Nope. I've been expecting you, Krycek. I'm not so surprised this
time."
"What?" He dropped his hold on my arm and stepped back. "Why? I
mean, what the hell are you babbling about?"
"Can I turn around now?"
A soft exhalation of air was his only answer. I took it as a yes and
slowly turned so that my back was against the wall, my arms hanging
non-threateningly at my sides.
"I still have my ankle holster," I offered helpfully.
Eyes narrowed, he glared at me through his lashes. You know, it
really is sinful just how long and lush his lashes are.
"What's your game, Mulder?" He was growling at me. I decided I liked
it.
"No game. I just don't want any unpleasant surprises later—you do
tend to be a little jumpy, Krycek—so, I thought I'd remind you
about my backup." I carefully kept my tone even; my hands open and
in plain sight.
A hint of amusement flashed across his face before he blanked his
expression again and waved his gun at me. "You know the drill. Right
hand in the air, unbuckle the holster with the left. Slowly,
Mulder," he coached me as I bent to do as instructed. "Very nice.
Okay, now leave it on the floor and go sit on the couch, please."
//Please?!//
Carefully concealing my grin, I settled myself on the sofa and put
my feet up on the coffee table. "No beer?" I asked mournfully.
I probably shouldn't say this—he'll kill me if he ever sees it—but, when he raises his eyebrows like that... well, he's just so
damned cute.
"Mulder," exasperation bordering on impatient, "what is it with you
and the fucking beer?"
"I'm thirsty."
"You're crazy."
"You just figuring that out now?"
He snorted. "Mulder, this is weird behavior, even for you. Aren't
you gonna call me names? Blame me for the all of the troubles in the
world? Bring up the past.... Your father, Melissa, Siberia ... "
I shrugged. "I've reached the conclusion that you had good reasons
for your actions—at least most of them." I smiled at him. "Now,
how about that beer?"
With a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Okay, Mulder, get your damned beer."
Of course, he followed me to the kitchen. Couldn't blame him,
though. Given our history, he had no reason to trust me. I opened
the fridge and grabbed two bottles of beer. Heading back to my spot
on the couch, I twisted both tops off and set his brew on the coffee
table.
He looked at the bottle, looked at me and picked the beer up, taking
a deep swallow. Dammit. It was downright disconcerting that he
should have such an effect on my libido. I wanted to reach over and
taste him—nibble on his neck—mark him.
Lowering his bottle, he frowned at my rapt attention. "What?"
"You know, Krycek, you're an attractive man."
He choked.
"Mulder, is this some new game you're playing? We both know that you
hate me." He was frowning fiercely.
"Oh, no, Alex, I don't hate you. And, I suspect that you don't hate
me either." I met his eyes. "Since that night you kissed me, I've
done a lot of thinking about me—about us."
Well, that brought about an interesting reaction. His eyes opened
wide in confusion and denial and ... fear?
Hmmm.
"There is no 'us', Mulder."
"Ah, but there could be."
"Are you trying to seduce me?" His tone was one of disbelief
tempered with hope.
I smiled.
"You are trying to seduce me." He shook his head and backed up a
step. "Why?"
"Because I'm tired of hitting you. Because I want to know if it's
possible. Because I think you want me as much as I want you ... Why
else would you have let me use you as a punching bag, Alex? We both
know you could knock me cold without breaking a sweat, and yet you
just take it."
Fascinated, I watched as a slow tide of red crept up his face. He
busied himself by tucking his pistol into its holster, studiously
avoiding my eyes. With a shake of his head, he attempted to change
the subject. "Mulder, I have to tell you something. It's important."
I slouched further down into the sofa and raised my brows at him.
"Is this something I need to act on right away?"
"Um ... no, I don't think so." Green eyes, cloudy with confusion,
met mine for a beat, before he raised his beer for another swallow.
"Well then, let's order a pizza and watch the tube for a while."
He choked again.
And shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.
"Sit down, Krycek," I offered. "You look tired."
Warily, he crossed to the couch and settled himself gingerly as far
from me as he could get. "What are you up to, Mulder?" he asked in a
low voice.
"I'm seducing you, Alex. 'Course, you being so far away makes it a
challenging proposition—but, hey, I'm a determined kind of a guy."
Krycek frowned. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Positive."
"Oh."
"But, my best seductions are done on a full stomach—so, let's
order that pizza."
He nodded dazedly and I went over the phone to order our dinner.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed him watching me carefully. Not
that I could blame him—after all that had gone before I could well
understand his confusion at my change in attitude. Hanging up the
phone, I once again sat on the sofa—next to him.
"Forty-five minutes, they said." I turned towards him, one knee
folded under me, and my arm stretched along the back of the couch.
He twitched—as if he were going to jump up and run. I wasn't about
to let that happen! "Alex," I murmured, "relax, I'm not going to
hurt you."
With a dubious look in my direction, he relaxed marginally. "So,
Mulder ... "
I kissed him.
Frozen with shock, he allowed my lips to caress his, but didn't
respond.
"This works better if both parties participate, you know," I teased.
This time he did rise to his feet. Breathing heavily, he glared at
me. "You really don't want to do this."
"Oh, but I think I do, Alex. In fact, I want to do it very badly." I
smiled at him. "How about you? You want to do this?"
Funny, I'd never thought Alex did impersonations. But, there he
stood, mouth opening and closing in a dead-on imitation of a guppy.
I'd have laughed if I weren't so sure he'd cut and run.
"Well?" I prompted.
"Mulderrrr." Again, he growled at me. My cock jumped at the sound.
"You don't have any idea what you're asking for."
With a grin I shook my head at him. "I know full well what I want.
You."
"I don't think this is a good idea, Mulder."
That's what he said. His eyes though.... I could see the reluctant
desire, the fear... and the mistrust.
I straightened and tried to express my certainty in my expression.
"C'mon, Alex. You know you want to. Besides, isn't it time we tried
something different?"
Reluctantly, as if he were fighting the impulse, he moved back to
sit beside me.
"Different, huh?"
Well, he hadn't exactly said yes ... but he hadn't said no either. I
took that as a good sign.
"Think about it, Alex, we do seem to be drawn to each other."
"That's work, Mulder," he protested weakly. "This," he waved one
hand between us, "has nothing to do with it."
"I have to disagree with you there, Alex. Our 'working relationship'
is a little unusual, y'know? I mean, how often do you kiss your ...
ah, business contacts?"
"I had to get your attention, Mulder. Convince you that I meant what
I said."
"Well, you sure managed to do that. And I've been thinking about it
ever since." I scooted a little closer to him. "How about we try
that kiss again—properly this time?"
Eyes opened wide in shock, he just watched me as I leaned towards
him. Tentatively, I touched my lips to his. And, oh, he tasted good.
My heart started pounding, and I found that I was breathing heavily.
He didn't respond, but he didn't draw away either. Feeling bold, I
opened my mouth just enough to let my tongue explore the line of his
lips.
He sighed softly, and his lips softened, parting to allow his tongue
to touch mine. Gradually our mouths opened wide, and we were kissing—really kissing.
Things were looking good.
And then—how does this man move so quickly?—he was in my lap.
Kissing me, chewing on my earlobe, licking my neck...
I should've known—Alex was never one to do things halfway.
He was wriggling in my lap. Against my very interested cock. His
appeared to share that interest. I gripped his hips and pulled him
closer, gasping at the sensation of our erections rubbing against
each other.
"Alex," I gasped. "Bedroom?"
Oops—that was a mistake. He jumped to his feet and backed away
from me.
"Alex, what's wrong?"
"You ... me ... this."
"Are you afraid of me, Krycek. Or, are you afraid of you?"
"Fuck you, Mulder."
"Don't you think we'd best take things a little more slowly than
that?"
He stared at me silently for a beat, then stepped backwards, towards
the door. "I... I'm leaving now," he said haltingly.
"But I thought you had to talk to me, Alex."
Shaking his head, he backed towards the door. "I'll come back later—when you're in your right mind."
And he was gone.
But, I knew he'd be back.
What with work and all, it was two weeks before I saw him again. I'd
figured it would be at least a week before curiosity drew him back
to me, then I had to go out of town on a case.
It was a long couple of weeks. Very long. Every night I found myself
thinking of him, masturbating with visions of making love with him,
imagining him naked, flushed with arousal, wondering how he'd taste,
the sounds he'd make...
Finally home again, I hoped against hope that he'd turn up soon. He
didn't come to me on my first night home. Or the second. On the
third night, I found a message on my machine when I dragged my tired
body into the apartment.
"Ten o'clock at the Wolf," that unmistakably husky voice said.
That was all—but it was more than enough to start my heart
pounding and send a jolt of arousal through my body. My weariness
suddenly forgotten, I showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.
I shaved and took an inordinate amount of time drying my hair... I
wanted to look good for him, wanted to show him in even this small
way that I was very serious about wanting him.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I walked into the Wolf. Damn.
I felt like a teenager on a first date—ridiculous at my age, I
know, but this was an unusual situation for me. I'd never had male
lover, unless you count the awkward fumblings of teenage boys. And
in the past few years I'd not had any intimate relationships.
I hoped I could muddle my way through this. Not make a fool of
myself.
I scanned the bar and spotted him in a darkened booth. He met my
eyes and—almost—smiled. Walking over, I stopped at the table and
sat next to him.
"Hey, Alex," I greeted. "Glad you called."
He cleared his throat. "Mulder," he said huskily. He didn't look at
me, though. Apparently he was quite fascinated by the tabletop.
The waiter came over and took my order, and Alex requested another
vodka. We sat in silence and waited for his return.
Once our drinks were delivered, I decided to nudge him a bit. "So,
tell me, Alex, is this a date, or do you have some urgent
information to impart?"
He choked. "Mulder, would you please not say things like that when
I'm in the process of swallowing liquid?"
"Sorry," I said—not in the least bit repentant. "Well? Is this a
date?"
He mumbled something that I couldn't quite hear. Not surprising that—he was once again examining the tabletop.
"Alex, look at me, please."
Wary green eyes rose to meet mine. "What?" He asked gruffly.
"I didn't hear you. Are we on a date or not?"
He frowned heavily and sighed. "Well, what do you think it is? I
invited you to join me here tonight, didn't I? In a gay bar. Doesn't
that constitute a date—considering what happened the last time we
saw each other?"
"Yep, I guess it does. And... " I grinned at him, "that being the
case—" I leaned over and kissed him.
"Mulder, what is with you? This new attitude of yours is making me
very nervous... Is your blood red or green?" He asked suspiciously.
"As red as yours, Alex."
He glared. "What's with this 'Alex' thing? You've been calling me
Krycek for years now."
"I think," I said, sliding closer to Alex, and idly playing with the
salt shaker, "that I may have been hasty in my most recent
perception of you. I think—now I think I can maybe see you a bit
more clearly—it seems you... you're a chameleon, Alex. Krycek has
a job to do, and he does it well—coldly, ruthlessly and
efficiently; but Alex—Alex isn't like that. And I think—if it's
okay—I think I'd really like to get to know Alex better." I leaned
into him, so our shoulders touched. And waited.
Rolling his eyes at me, Alex shook his head in confusion. "And how
do you plan to do this?"
"The same way any couple get acquainted—we'll talk, learn about
each other, exchange histories... you know."
"No," he said in a low tone. "In fact, I don't know—relationships are not something I've had much experience with."
How sad. Such a solitary life he'd led. Not that I had much room to
talk. Oh well, we'd figure it out somehow.
"Well, let's start with the basic stuff. When and where were you
born?"
"June 22, 1965 at St Vincent's Charity Hospital in New York." He
rattled off the statistics in a monotone.
"Alex, take it easy—this is a 'getting to know you' conversation,
not an interrogation."
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just not used to talking about myself."
"It's okay—I understand." Deciding on a less statistical line of
questioning, I grinned and asked him, "What's your favorite color?"
"My what?"
"Your favorite color, Alex."
"Um ... well, I suppose green—deep forest green."
"Funny you should say that," I teased, gazing into his startlingly
green eyes. "I'm partial to that color myself."
He blushed.
Have I mentioned how cute he is?
"I'm flirting with you, in case you were wondering," I whispered
into his ear.
"I'd kind of suspected that, Mulder."
He was obviously embarrassed, but pleased at the same time. Resting
one arm along the back of the bench, I allowed the tips of my
fingers to stroke his shoulder lightly.
He blinked in surprise, then one side of his mouth quirked up in a
shy grin.
So far, so good.
"Tell me what you enjoy, Alex. What do you read? Do you have any
hobbies? Any special interests?"
Frowning, he fiddled with his empty glass. "Um... well, I just
finished reading 'Confederacy of Dunces'. No hobbies." He shrugged
and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "My life doesn't
exactly lend itself to that kind of thing."
It occurred to me—with startling clarity—that I knew nothing
about him. Not a damned thing. And he could probably recite chapter
and verse of the Fox Mulder Story. Not that half the world didn't
seem to know entirely too much about me... but, it was a bit
disturbing to realize that I was probably the closest thing to a
hobby he had.
"Mulder?"
Oh boy. When had his voice started to affect me so deeply? It seemed
to resonate through me, sending sparks of awareness outward from the
pit of my stomach to every nerve ending in my body.
"Mulder, you're blushing."
I shrugged one shoulder and raised a brow at him. "Am I?"
He looked vastly amused by my distraction. "Yeah, you are. What are
you thinking about?"
"Your voice."
The waiter snuck up on me then—nearly gave me a heart attack when
he asked cheerily if we were ready for a refill. Alex smirked and
nodded assent in his direction.
And it hit me—I was in deep trouble here. Bigtime trouble. Why,
you ask? Well, when Alex looked at the little bastard, I wanted to
rip his head right off of his shoulders for daring to catch Alex's
attention.
This disturbed me deeply. I sighed in confusion and looked around
the bar, avoiding his all-too knowing eyes. There were a few couples
on the small dance floor, and I studied them distractedly, still
mulling over my homicidally jealous inclinations with regard to Alex
Krycek.
"What's wrong, Mulder?" He nudged me with his elbow when I didn't
respond. "Hey, Earth to Mulder... What is your problem?"
"Um," I shook my head and turned to look at him. "Nothing, really...
I just—" Not sure I wanted him to know just how possessive I was
feeling, I frantically searched my mind for a distraction. The music
changed to a slow, romantic tune, and I jumped to my feet. "Let's
dance."
His mouth actually dropped open in surprise. "Dance?"
"Yeah, dance," I insisted, grabbing his arm and hauling him up
beside me. "Come on."
With a look that clearly illuminated his doubts about my sanity, he
followed me to the dance floor. I led him to an open spot and slid
my arms around his waist, pulling him against me with a barely
suppressed groan.
He fit against me very nicely.
Very nicely.
Damn near perfectly.
So well, in fact, that I froze, stunned by the sensation of actually
holding him in my arms.
"Mulder," he said huskily into my ear. "I thought you wanted to
dance."
"Huh?"
A gentle snort of amusement at my dazed answer. "Dancing usually
involves some movement of the feet, Mulder."
Oh. Yeah, right. Move, feet.
Much to my amazement, they listened to my mental command and there
we were—dancing. Mulder and Krycek ... dancing.
His right hand slowly crept up my arm and closed around the nape of
my neck. Then he rested his head on my shoulder.
Huh.
I sighed and closed my eyes, laying my cheek against his hair. He
smelled good, his hair was silkily soft, and I just lost myself in
the moment. It was wonderful to hold him like this—no posturing,
no sniping, no past—just two men moving slowly together to the
music.
Of course, all this closeness caused the expected reaction. I had an
erection that bordered on painful—God, I hoped that he wouldn't
run away again tonight. I wanted him in the worst way. Visions of
the two of us in bed together tormented me. We'd be incendiary—I
just knew it.
I moaned at the thought.
"What?" he asked, lifting his head to meet my eyes. "Are you okay?"
Lowering my hands to his hips, I pulled him closer, letting him feel
the effect he had on me. "I... you ... I want you, Alex."
His eyes ... oh, lord, his eyes! Cloudy with desire, only the
slightest ring of green outlined his pupils. I thought I might come
right there on the spot, seeing such open ... need for me.
"Mulder," he said quietly, "I can't just jump into this—I need to
adjust ... You've hated me for so long—I just can't ... "
Well, I could understand that ... My Rat wasn't the most trusting
person in the world and certainly our past had had its ups and
downs.
Sighing, I rested my forehead against his. "So, we take it slowly,
Alex. I can wait."
It was a strange evening—surreal, almost. We drank. We danced. We
talked. I really, really enjoyed myself. 'Course, I'd have had an
even better time if he'd have come home with me, but I restrained
myself when he announced that he had to get going. Didn't beg or
whine—not even a little. I was downright agreeable about the whole
thing.
He looked a little confused at my easy acquiescence to his
departure. Slowly, he rose to his feet and hovered at the tableside.
"Well," he finally said when I continued to smile at him affably.
"I'll ah, see you."
He took a step back and 'good nature' went out the proverbial
window. I hastily climbed to my feet and reached out to close one
hand over his arm. "When?" I insisted.
My anxious question seemed to be some kind of signal to him. It was
the strangest thing; he just... relaxed. No longer did he look as if
he might jump out of his skin if I moved too quickly. In a blink,
his entire body just started radiating complete and utter
understanding and acceptance. Of me. Of us. Of my need for him.
And, his eyes glowed with the need he felt for me.
He lifted his hand and touched my cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow,"
he said.
Uh huh...
"When I call," he continued, smiling at my slight frown, "I'll give
you my address. You can come over for dinner."
Oh.
He leaned close and whispered in my ear, "I'm a very good cook, you
know."
O-oh.
He kissed me and left.
I stood there numbly, mentally reviewing the last few minutes.
What the fuck had happened?
He'd just changed everything.
Upon further reflection, I decided that I didn't mind at all. Hell,
if he wanted to do the seducing, I could get with the program.
Yeah, I could definitely get behind that idea.
I grinned all the way home. In fact, I think I woke up with the same
stupid grin on my face the next morning.
Now all I had to do was wait for him to call.
No problem.
No problem, my ass.
I just about lost my mind waiting for that call. I read three
newspapers. I paced. I surfed the web. I cleaned my apartment.
I even cleared off my bed and put clean sheets on it. Don't ask me
why—it just seemed like a good idea. And, most amazing of all, I
folded my laundry and put it away. I'm talking an X-File here, you
know? In a major way. A major extreme possibility.
Finally the phone rang. Luckily, before climbing into the shower to
scrub the walls (I did say it was an X-File, didn't I?) I'd
grabbed the phone and stored it within easy reach, right on the back
of the toilet.
Did you ever get a hard-on just because the phone rang? Yeah, well,
I'd never done so either... until then. Anyway, as you can well
imagine, I was not at my best when I answered the phone. Of course,
I knew he couldn't see me standing there naked, dripping wet, with
an erection that would most likely drill a hole through the wall if
I were inclined to give it a try.
So, I sucked in a deep breath and did my best to sound blasé when I
answered the phone.
Wasted effort.
It went something like this:
"Mulder," I said crisply into the receiver.
"What the hell is that noise?"
"Um—it's water."
"Sounds like you're in the middle of a rainstorm, Mulder."
"Not exactly."
"Then what exactly is it?"
"The shower."
"You're in the shower?" Amazement was clear in his voice. I just
knew both eyebrows were raised in that adorable manner of his. My
cock twitched at the thought.
"Yeah... well... sort of."
"Mulder." Sigh. "How the hell can you be sort of in the shower?"
"I'm cleaning."
"From the shower?"
"No, asshole. I'm scrubbing the shower walls."
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
"Oookay. So, tell me Mulder, what does one wear while scrubbing
shower walls?"
Oh my. That voice.
"Oooh, Muul-derrrr."
"Hmmm?"
"I'm waiting for an answer, Mulder."
"Oh? Oh! Um... well, nothing, actually."
"So, you're naked?"
"Uh huh."
"And wet?"
Hoo boy. His voice dropped an entire octave on that question.
My hand—traitorous limb—started a slow glide in a southerly
direction.
"Mulder."
"Mmmm?"
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Why do I find that hard to believe?"
Guiltily, I snatched my hand away from my groin. "Really, Alex." I
turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. "I'm done
cleaning—gonna get dressed now."
"Wear something sexy."
It was becoming clear to me that Alex had taken over the reins and
was headed in a direction that both thrilled and terrified me. All
of his earlier fears and doubts seemed to have fallen by the
wayside, and he'd taken the lead in this little dance of ours.
"Something sexy?" I croaked.
He laughed. A low breathy kind of a laugh. "Yeah, Mulder—something
sexy."
Oookay. Mentally reviewing my wardrobe, I wondered what the hell he
would consider sexy clothing. Hmmm.
"I'll ah, see what I can find." I said doubtfully.
"Oh, I'm sure you can find something appropriate, Mulder. In fact...
I really liked the jeans you wore the other day."
The other day? Whatthehell?
"You remember—you were playing basketball. In the park."
He'd been... He'd been watching me. Damn.
I swallowed heavily and sank down to sit on the toilet lid. Jumped
up again with a yelp—damn, do not sit on a chilly toilet lid
when your ass is cold, wet and naked.
"Having trouble there, Mulder?" He was smirking—I could hear it in
his voice.
"No. No problem. Not a problem in the world." I walked into the
bedroom and pulled the jeans he'd just mentioned out of the dresser.
"So, what time do you want me to come over?" I asked somewhat
distractedly, as I unfolded the garment and held it up—trying like
hell to figure out what was sexy about an old, faded pair of
straight leg jeans.
"Anytime, Mulder. I'm ready when you are."
Once I recovered from that, I took in a careful breath and asked for
his address. Which he gave without pause.
We'd left the X-Files Zone and entered the Twilight Zone.
"Okay, Alex," I finally said. "I'll be over in an hour or so."
I was just about to hang up, when he spoke again. "And, Mulder..."
Uh oh. His voice had fallen back into that lower octave—the one
that went straight to my cock. Strangely, my hand seemed to
instinctively follow.
"Yeah?"
"Don't you dare jack off before you leave."
Damn him.
"I mean it, Mulder—I will know."
I closed my hand into a fist and groaned. "Alex, you bastard. You're
trying to drive me crazy here, aren't you?"
He laughed and broke the connection.
I set the phone down and once again studied the jeans. When I turned
them around, I began to understand Alex's suggestion. The fabric was
faded almost white in places... and the rear end was worn to the
thickness of a Kleenex.
The thought of Alex, lurking in some dark corner of the park,
watching me—watching my ass...
Okay, enough already. Time to get dressed and go to Alex Krycek's
place for dinner. I just had to figure out what to wear with the
damned jeans. About sixty percent of my wardrobe lay scattered
around the room by the time I was finally clothed. It had been...
challenging to find just the right shirt. I have to admit I was
rather pleased with the final result. A white muscle shirt. A white
linen shirt over that, unbuttoned to my chest and tucked into the
jeans. Oh—no underwear. I thought he might like that.
I put my running shoes on, grabbed my keys and headed out of there.
It was showtime.
He was trying to make me crazy.
Well, okay ... crazier.
I damn near passed out on the front stoop when he opened the door.
I'm here to tell you that Alex Krycek in shorts—running shorts—really short shorts—is a sight to behold. And then there was
that shirt he was almost wearing—one of those muscle tanks made
out of netting material.
And, he was barefoot.
Jesus!
Murder by what? Frustration? Exhibit number 1: the outfit.
Exhibit number 2: the bare feet. The jury didn't exist that would
acquit in the face of such overwhelming evidence.
I was expecting him to be living... well, I'm not sure what I was
expecting—but this was definitely not it. Alex Krycek,
responsible homeowner. Damn. And it was a nice house.
Very nice.
Right there on Arlington Ridge road, kind of tucked away in a wooded
area—must've cost him a pretty penny. I had one hell of a time
finding it. Luckily I'm a trained investigator, else I'd have never
figured out that there was a house hidden back there.
So, as you can imagine I was pretty nervous by the time I got to the
front door. Then I got a gander at what he was wearing. My stunned
reaction seemed to amuse him. At least I assumed that was what put
such a huge smile on his face.
I'd never seen such a smile. His eyes even twinkled, I swear to
god, they did.
I was doomed.
"Come on in, Mulder," he said, stepping back and scanning my own
clothing with an approving grin. "Lookin' good—sexy—just as I,
er, suggested."
In a vain effort to control my rather physical response to him—between all that skin, the smile and his low, sexy tone of voice, I
was finding myself in a serious state of mind-numbing arousal—I
studied the front room with more interest than was strictly
necessary. It was... unexpected. A huge bay window dominated the
room, additional brightness provided by the skylight. An
interesting mix of antique and modern furniture scattered about in
an inviting way. A huge overstuffed couch was flanked by heavy oak
end tables. The antique secretary against one wall was an
impressive piece, as was the doughbox sitting next to the front
door. A couple of comfortable looking and obviously expensive
recliners sat in front of the marble hearth, separated by a small
table. Plants hung in front of the window, giving the room a softer
look and the artwork on the walls added to the overall impression of
space in the room. They were landscapes, for the most part—in the
style of Constable. Hell, for all I knew they were Constable
originals. And he had books. Shelves and shelves of books. All in
all, it was a comfortable room. Relaxed. Inviting.
I wandered over and started scanning the titles on one shelf.
Fantasy, mystery, science, biographies, political science were mixed
together in a confusing jumble. Each book had a well-read
appearance. Tapping my foot to the beat of the music that softly
played in the background, I recognized it as one of those new
flamenco CD's that are becoming so popular—with good reason, I
decided. The heavy sensuality of the music wrapped itself around me
and I felt my heartbeat quicken.
Quietly, he moved to stand behind me, wrapping his arm around my
midriff and resting his chin on my shoulder. "So," I said in an
embarrassingly shaky voice, "lived here long?"
A gentle puff of air hit my cheek as he laughed softly. "Off and on
for the past six years. This is my home, Mulder. This is my refuge—the only place I can relax and just be me. I don't have much
opportunity to be here, maybe a couple of months out of the year,
all told. Those times refresh me, though. Make me able to keep on
going."
Oh wow. And he'd let me into his home. Invited me in. My heart
jumped at the implications. "Thank you, Alex," I said softly.
"This means a lot to me. I ... I- " Breaking off, I blurted out the
first thing that came to mind. "You read all of these, Alex?"
"Most of them," he shrugged, the movement of his torso against my
back sending shivers down my spine. "I tend to buy way more than I
have time to read—but, I just can't seem to resist a good book.
I'll get to all of them some day. I hope."
Distressed by his reference to his dangerous lifestyle, I shook my
head in denial. "You will, Alex. You will."
With a chuckle, Alex pressed even closer. "Well, if you say it will
be, then who am I to question?"
Shifting, I turned until we were facing each other, still pressed
closely together. "You didn't kiss me hello," I teased.
And he smiled. Funny how his smiles seem to turn my knees to water.
Another X-File, maybe? "Let me remedy that oversight, Mulder."
His eyelids drooped, gaze fixed on my mouth, and I watched
breathlessly, as his mouth moved to cover mine.
A buzzer went off somewhere in the distance. Shocked, I jerked my
head back and looked wildly around for the source of the noise.
Relaxing his hold on me, Alex stepped back with a rueful smile.
"The chicken," he said. "Dinner's ready."
"Oh. Oh!" Blushing at my dazed state, I released my hold on him
and followed him to the kitchen. As we walked through the dining
area I couldn't help but notice the care he'd taken in setting the
table. He'd even placed an arrangement of flowers in the center,
for god's sake. Oddly touched, I silently stood in the kitchen
doorway and watched, bemused, as he bustled about, putting the food
on serving dishes, arranging everything just so.
"Smells good, Alex," I said with a smile. "What's on the menu?"
"Lemon and cream chicken with white wine sauce, asparagus, avocado
and salmon mousse." Distractedly he rattled off the menu while
draining what I could only assume to be the asparagus. "Get the
mousse out of the fridge, would you?" he asked.
Glad for something to do, I retrieved the mousse and carried it to
the table. "Anything else I can do?"
"Yeah—get the wine out and open it, okay? Bottle of white zin, on
the top shelf."
While I took care of this small task, Alex carried serving dishes
into the dining room. Once he was satisfied that everything was
present and accounted for, we sat down to eat.
He hadn't lied or exaggerated—the man can cook. I dug in with
enthusiasm, blushing when he quirked a brow at me and told me to
slow down, there was plenty more. And, under any other
circumstances, I'd have had seconds—maybe even thirds. But, DAMN,
I made the mistake of looking up just as he was eating an asparagus.
Um, excuse me; did I say eating? Jesus, he made love to the damned
thing. Slowly, teasingly, he drew it into his mouth until he was
deep-throating the damned thing. For a moment there, I feared that
the top of my head would blow off. He gave me a sultry smile and
picked up another asparagus.
From that moment on, I might just as well have been eating sawdust
for all the attention I paid to the food I was distractedly
shoveling into my mouth. And Krycek, the teasing bastard, seemed to
be vastly amused by my mesmerized stare. He smirked non-stop through
the rest of the meal. Amazingly enough, that smirk didn't raise my
hackles at all—in fact, it only served to feed my imagination. I
pictured at least a hundred ways in which to wipe that smirk off of
his face—and not one scenario involved violence.
Finally, he set his silverware down and tossed his napkin onto the
table. "I'm full," he announced with a contented sigh. "How about
you, Mulder? Want anything else?"
I opened my mouth to answer and... Well, this is kind of
embarrassing, but I squeaked. This brought a wide smile to his
face. Damn, I was making SUCH a fool of myself here—I'd never
live it down.
"No dessert?" He asked.
This time I knew better than to attempt speech. I settled for a
negative shake of my head. With a knowing smile, Alex got up from
the table and headed into the living room. "Come on in here,
Mulder. Let's sit, talk, watch a movie... whatever."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'd been hoping... With a sigh, I shrugged and
walked into the other room. "Whatever you want, Alex."
"I'm not hearing much enthusiasm from you, Mulder." God! That
husky, insinuating voice. The man was trying to kill me. I just
knew it.
"No, no," I croaked. "I'm flexible." Damn, did I really say that?
"Whatever you prefer is fine with me."
"And if I prefer that we go to bed now?" There it was—that
lowered, sultry tone.
So overwhelmed by the way my entire body reacted to that voice, I
didn't actually comprehend his words for several moments. I was too
busy trying not to come then and there. Finally, I got myself under
control, and his words sank in to my muddled brain.
And, there went my control. I gasped. "You mean... I... you...
NOW?" My muscles seemed to have taken on liquid properties and, if
not for the wall behind me, I'd have sunk to the floor.
Wickedly amused by my reaction, Alex smiled widely and moved in to
press his body against mine. This was both good and bad... Good
because he was holding me up with his weight, bad because the heat
of him touching me from shoulder to knee seemed to render me
incapable of speech.
"You have a problem with now, Mulder?" He whispered wickedly into
my ear.
Somehow I actually managed to gather enough control to shake my
head. Opening my mouth, I struggled to force out a verbal answer.
No go. I swallowed heavily and managed an "Uh uh."
Still smiling, Alex shifted his hips, bringing our erections into
breathtaking contact. Even through the fabric we both still wore,
the sensation was so incredibly erotic, that I caught my breath and
moaned. Damn. It occurred to me that I might not even make it to
his bedroom at this rate. I'd been waiting for this for so very
long, it seemed. Now that the moment was at hand, I was desperate
to make this the best sex either one of us had ever had. Silly, I
know—but, damn, I wanted something special to carry away with me,
and I wanted HIM never to forget—because, I couldn't help feeling
that this might be our only chance.
Placing my hands on his hips, I pushed him away—not far away, mind
you—just enough that his hard cock was no longer pressed against
mine. I licked my lips and stared into his curious eyes. "Bed?" I
croaked. "Now," I added desperately. Couldn't help but be rather
proud of the fact that I'd managed to enunciate two whole words—my
voice didn't even break.
Somehow—don't ask for details, I have no idea how he did it—Alex
managed to move us to the bedroom. Luckily, it was on the ground
floor—there's no possible way I could've made it up a flight of
stairs. My eyes zeroed in on the bed, and I forgot to breathe.
This was IT!
Numbly, I stood there as he pulled my clothes off efficiently. His
hand traced a line from my throat down my chest and over one hip. I
reached to return the favor and realized that he was still fully
clothed. Well, okay, he wasn't really what you'd call 'fully
clothed' to begin with—but dammit, I wanted him naked. I wanted
to touch, to see, to taste. I wanted. God, I wanted so much it
hurt.
With trembling fingers, I pulled the shirt off of him and pushed his
shorts down. No underwear. Just the thought that he'd been naked
under those shorts was enough to bring me to the edge of crisis
again.
Dropping to his knees, Alex looked up at me for just a second, a
slight smile tilting the corners of his mouth. Then he... lord have
mercy, the man swallowed my cock whole. Took it deep into his
throat and then hummed his pleasure.
In most instances—not that there have been all that many—I'm a
very vocal lover. Actually, more than one bed partner has
complained about my tendency to babble non-stop while doing the
deed. Not this time, though. Nope, it seemed that Alex wouldn't be
subjected to my nonsensical ramblings. The most I could manage were
a couple of moans and groans and the occasional "ah".
I didn't last long. Within an embarrassingly short time, I had my
fingers clenched in his hair, as I stiffened and poured pulse after
pulse of semen down his willing throat. Gasping for air, I
collapsed to my knees and rested my face on his shoulder. His left
shoulder. And, get this—he didn't even flinch. He just put his
arm around me and held on while I slowly recovered. He even petted
my hair and murmured soothingly into my ear.
Eventually I stirred and straightened. Looked at him and didn't
even mind the self-satisfied smirk on his face. He damn well
should have been proud of himself. I'd never felt anything even
remotely akin to that blowjob. Whether it was all the build up, all
the anticipation, or if it was that he was simply that good, I
couldn't have cared less. Whatever the case was, I was one very
happy camper at that moment.
"We didn't quite make it to the bed," I said teasingly. "It looks
awfully comfortable—and my knees are not liking this hardwood
floor, Alex."
Gracefully, he rose to his feet and held out a hand to support my
still wobbly frame, as I clambered to stand with him. "An excellent
notion, Mulder. Time I broke in the mattress."
What? He hadn't... "You've never had a lover here?" I asked
incredulously.
Avoiding my eyes, he shook his head. "Not safe," he mumbled. "I
don't ever invite people here."
And yet, here I was—in his home—in his bedroom... Wow! I
couldn't help myself; I moved closer and enclosed him tightly in my
arms. "Thank you, Alex," I said huskily. "I can't tell you ...
that you'd invite me here..."
A slight blush colored his face, and he looked away from me. "Yeah,
well," he said with a shrug, "I figured it was time—to let you in,
I mean."
Wow. I mean... Wow! He actually trusted me. I couldn't for the
life of me come up with a suitable response, so I kissed him, trying
to tell him without words how much his trust meant to me. Seemed to
work, too. He clung to me with almost painful strength and returned
my kiss with unabashed joy and need.
Slowly, awkwardly, we made our way to the bed without interrupting
that kiss. We couldn't. Somehow, we were silently telling each
other all of the things we couldn't say aloud. Apologies for past
hurts, forgiveness for past betrayals, the overwhelming NEED we felt
for each other.
And then we were horizontal. I'd landed on top of Alex, and he
didn't seem the least uncomfortable with my weight holding him down.
Actually, I think he liked it. He wrapped his legs around mine and
tightened the arm still wrapped around my shoulders.
"I want to make love to you, Mulder," he said huskily. "So much...
been dreaming of this." And he started to nibble on my neck.
Oh shit. How did he KNOW? I never could think straight when a
lover did that—shivers ran through my body and, incredibly, I felt
my depleted cock start to rise again. I gurgled a sound that might
have been a yes—at least, that's what I meant it to be.
Apparently, the message got through. He sighed in relief and set to
work driving me out of my mind. Between his hand and his mouth, he
managed to caress every inch of my flesh he could reach. So much
for my seducing him—within moments he had me reduced to a
quivering mass of response. I could only lie there expressing my
approval with a constant stream of unintelligible noises, arching up
occasionally to encourage further attention to particularly
sensitive areas.
Slowly, teasingly, he made his way down to my groin. Grinned at his
success in making me hard again so soon. Delicately, he lapped at
the head of my cock, then ducked down to pull my balls carefully
into the heat of his mouth.
"AHHH," I yelled. "Shit, Alex... too soon... I'm too close already.
Want you to fuck me now. Want to come while you're inside of me."
Raising his head, he moved back up to lay next to me and looked at
me soberly. "You're sure about this, Mulder? Have you ever done it
before—with a man, I mean?"
Well, damn. I'd kind of hoped that the heat of the moment would
prevent just that question. No avoiding it now, though. "No, I
haven't. But I want to—with you."
What an interesting look appeared in his eyes when I said that.
Doubt, fear, desire and hope all blended together in an expression I
knew I'd never forget. Suddenly remembering that I'd barely touched
him at all, I rolled onto my side and smiled down at his perplexed
expression.
"I want to touch you, Alex. Explore. Play a little. Is that
okay?"
He swallowed heavily, his eyelids drooped, and he shifted restlessly
against the sheets. "Yesss," he hissed.
I soon discovered the reason for his
leatherboy-don't-touch-me-I'm-dangerous attitude. The man is
sensitive to touch. Every spot I caressed brought about louder and
more needy sounds. He arched and writhed under my hands, whimpering
when I found his most vulnerable places. Thought he might hit the
ceiling when I tickled the back of his knee with my tongue. And his
nipples... I truly think he'd have answered any question I might
care to pose when I drew one hardened nub into my mouth. When I
moved down to taste his purpled cock, he grabbed my hair and pulled.
"No," he gasped. "I'll come if you do that. Can't... don't... been
waiting too long, Mulder. If you really want me to fuck you, you
have to stop now."
Reluctantly, I moved up to rest my head on the pillow. Much as I
wanted to taste him, the overwhelming need to have this man inside
of me, a part of me, took precedence.
"I do want you, Alex. No doubts—a little fear, maybe. It's a
little disconcerting to be a virgin at my age."
"Don't worry, Mulder," he whispered huskily. "I'll make it good for
you."
I knew that—in the deepest part of me, I knew that I could trust
him, give myself over to him. I smiled and moved closer to his
warmth. "You're the boss, Alex. Tell me what to do."
"You don't have to do anything but lay back and let me make love to
you." He turned away and opened the drawer of the bedside table.
After an impatient search, he found what he was looking for.
Condom.
Lube.
Oh my.
Just as I was about to enjoy a panic attack, he pulled me closer and
pulled one of my legs over his thighs. "You're gonna love this,
Mulder. Trust me."
I drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly and waited to see what
came next. Surprisingly, he didn't immediately zero in on my
opening. No, he caressed my chest with his hand and started
licking, nibbling and biting at my neck and shoulder. Gradually,
all thoughts of fear faded under his gentle ministrations. Somehow,
a neat trick with one hand, he managed to open the lube and squeeze
some onto his fingers.
I jumped a bit in reaction when his slick digits moved down and
started rubbing along my perineum. Good. It felt amazingly good.
How was it that I'd never discovered this before now? Relaxing
under his touch, I sighed my approval.
"Like that, eh?"
"Mmmhmm."
"You'll like this even more," he said as his clever fingers slid
back to my anus. An odd feeling—but nice. I bent my knee,
raising my other leg, encouraging him to continue.
"Ready for a finger?" He asked softly.
Oh yeah. I couldn't quite get my vocal cords to work at the moment,
so I nodded and tilted my hips up invitingly. He paused to gather
more slick on his finger, then slowly inserted it inside of me.
"You okay?" He asked.
"More!" I gasped, eagerly pushing myself onto his finger.
"Mulder, I think you're a natural," he said with a chuckle.
"Alex, please..."
"Take it easy stud, I don't want to hurt you. We'll do this my
way."
"Nooo," I moaned. "Need more, NOW!"
"Okay," he soothed, "let's try two now."
Oh god! The fleeting pain caused by the addition of another finger
was soon lost in the incredible sensation of holding a part of him
within me. Then, he twisted his fingers and touched a spot that
almost made me sob with pleasure.
"Jesus! What was THAT?"
"Your prostate, Mulder. Time you two became acquainted."
"Do it again!" I demanded.
And he did.
Several times.
Apparently deciding that I was sufficiently prepared for the main
event, Alex withdrew his fingers—to VERY loud objections from
yours truly—and picked up the condom. I reached out, wanting to
sheath his cock myself, but he shook his head.
"Better let me—If you touch me now... " Quickly, he opened the
foil packet and rolled the condom over his erection. Then he
grabbed the lube and squeezed a generous amount onto his hand,
hastily spreading it over his cock.
Rising to his knees, Alex moved to the space between my thighs. He
looked at me with a touch of embarrassment. "You'll have to support
me, Mulder. I can't—" he nodded toward his missing arm and
grimaced.
Knowing how difficult it must be for him to admit to any weakness—particularly under these circumstances—I gave him what I hoped was
an understanding and accepting look. "It doesn't matter, Alex.
Nothing matters except this—having you make love to me. Fuck me,
Alex. Please don't make me wait any longer."
In my dreams—yes, I'd dreamed of this, fantasized about it—our
lovemaking was fast and furious. The reality was... unimaginable.
He entered me so slowly and carefully that I barely even registered
the pain. The concern with which he moved into me was almost too
much for me to handle. Such gentleness. So loving. Once he was
fully encased in me, he froze, searching my face for any signs of
discomfort.
"Okay?" He asked.
"Oh god. Oh ALEX. You feel so good. So right." I licked my lips
and moved my hips experimentally. "Oh yeah," I moaned. "Do it,
Alex. I need to feel you move."
With my hands at his shoulders, supporting his weight, Alex leaned
into me and started to thrust. It was incredible. Not only the
sensation of his cock moving in and out, caressing me inside, but
the expression of sheer pleasure on his face. I'd never imagined
that he could look so... so unguarded. So soft. So needy.
I reveled in every moment. Fascinated, I couldn't look away. Then,
he shifted his hips and hit that spot. I saw stars—I did! I
yelped and tightened my hold on him. "More," I gasped. "Harder.
Faster."
Throwing his head back and closing his teeth on his lower lip, Alex
did just as I'd requested. Silent until now, he seemed unable to
control the small sounds that escaped him with each thrust. Sweat
rolled down his face, and his eyes darkened with lust. God DAMN
he's a beautiful man.
Orgasm was gathering, boiling up in my balls, and I shuddered in an
attempt to hold off the inevitable. "Shit. Alex, I can't... I'm
gonna... JESUS!"
Vaguely, through the roaring in my ears, I heard Alex shout and
realized that he'd lost it, too. His muscles tensed, and his hips
moved jerkily as he filled me with his liquid essence. His loss of
control was a revelation to me. It seemed that I wasn't the only
one feeling the overwhelming rightness of this... of us.
Gasping for air, Alex collapsed against me, and I happily accepted
his weight. We lay for an undetermined length of time, just
floating in the aftermath. Finally, he grunted and tried to shift
off of me.
"No," I protested quietly. "Stay."
"I'm no lightweight, Mulder. You need to breathe."
I shrugged and pressed a kiss to his hair. "I can breathe just
fine, Alex. Just... don't move yet. Please?"
"Okay," he said in a weary voice. "Sleepy now. You are staying,
aren't you?"
Oh wow. I had to blink away tears at the trust implied by his
question. "If you want me to stay, I will."
"Always," he whispered.
Turning the Tables
by Jennie
So, here we were again. I couldn't even pretend to be surprised this
time. Nope, I'd been expecting him. For some damned reason, I'd
known that he would turn up—don't ask me how. It was a little
unsettling just how sure I'd been, even more so now that he had
shown up.
