He'd come there straight from the airport. He was jetlagged,
with dark circles under the eyes, unshaven and sweaty from the flight.
He couldn't remember when he'd last slept or eaten but he was way
beyond hunger now. If he carried on like this, he wouldn't live past
thirty.
Hanging around in doorways was one of Krycek's favourite
pastimes. There was a game he particularly liked to play—picking
out the homophobe among the men walking past and giving them a sweet
smile, a suggestive wink or a leer at their crotches. The looks he
got in return were pure entertainment.
Even while he was so enjoyably occupied, his eyes kept returning
to the figure eating in the window seat, balancing a book in one hand,
a fork in the other. Missing someone was an emotion unfamiliar to
Krycek but he supposed that this must be what this was. An ache that
wouldn't go whatever he did. A few days away in Hong Kong hadn't
helped. He wanted Mulder again. Badly.
When it looked as if Mulder was almost finished, Krycek sauntered
into the diner and slid into the empty seat opposite him. The place
was half full, mostly suits like Mulder.
"Hi."
"Krycek!" Mulder wasn't quite finished and he spoke with his
mouth full. He seemed to be angry. "I wondered when you were going
to quit playing that ridiculous Bait the Straight game and come over
here."
"What—you knew I was there? I didn't think you'd seen me.
That's really neat, Mulder. Almost like a professional."
Mulder gave him a look of disgust, finished his mouthful and
pushed his plate over to one side. There were a few fries left.
Krycek automatically reached out to take one but had his hand slapped
so severely that he jumped in his seat. The man eating at the table
to their right stared over at them.
Mulder lowered his voice to an angry whisper. "What the hell do
you want, Krycek?"
He hadn't anticipated this. He'd expected more of a welcome from
Mulder. Especially after what they'd done together. Krycek wondered
if he was losing his touch, misreading the signs—he thought he'd
given Mulder the kind of night he'd remember for some time. Puzzled,
he simply said "To see you."
"Well you're seeing me. So what?"
He decided that Mulder wasn't playing hard to get, that the anger
was genuine. "You know what I mean. I was wondering what you're
doing tonight."
Mulder gave a bitter laugh and sat shaking his head. "You're
amazing, I'll give you that. You turn up out of nowhere, having
disappeared into nowhere, no phone call, no letter, you could be dead
for all I know and suddenly here you are and we're supposed to be back
in business."
"Mulder, all I'm asking for is a fuck, not a marriage."
The man to their right choked into his coffee.
Mulder stood up. "If that's all you want, Krycek, then get back
to your damned doorway. I'm sure you'll have plenty of offers."
He walked out. Krycek sat stunned in his seat. He reached out
for a fry and chewed on it thoughtfully. He wished he could rewind
the scene, he wished someone could explain to him just what had
happened.
A smartly dressed Jamaican who had been sitting the other side of
the diner manoeuvred himself into the seat Mulder had just vacated,
surprising Krycek out of his thoughts.
"Your friend coming back?"
He said, "I don't think so," and gave the man a quick appraisal.
He was built like Skinner, maybe even more powerful, with enormous
hands. Krycek took everything in and wanted it. There were times
when he needed just to be crushed under a body much larger than his
own, the breath forced out of him with every thrust, every thrust
sweet agony.
He picked up the fatted, juiciest fry he could find and put it to
his lips, staring back at the man, He ran it along the length of his
mouth and then opened it sufficiently to push the fry slowly inside,
the grease from it oozing out onto his lips. Then he sucked slowly at
his thumb and forefinger, finishing off by running his tongue
elaborately over his mouth.
The man was riveted by his performance. So too was the diner
sitting at the table to the right. The Jamaican swallowed
uncomfortably. He couldn't seem to believe his luck. "Do you fuck?"
he whispered.
"Sure." Krycek felt the speed of his heart increasing and his
mouth go dry in anticipation. "Do you have a place near here?"
"No, I live the other side of the river."
Krycek shrugged. "Okay. Let's use the men's room."
That evening, refreshed from a few hours' sleep, Krycek was
ringing and banging on the door of Mulder's apartment,
holding a bunch of roses. He'd discussed the situation in some
depth with the Jamaican and he had been of the opinion that Mulder was
probably the romantic kind who need more sensitive handling.
"Mulder!" Krycek yelled through the door. "I know you're in
there, I saw you by the window! Look, for Christ's sake, let me in,
this is ridiculous! Can't we just talk?"
Mulder was maintaining a stubborn silence. Krycek hit the door
with the flat of his hand. "Damn you, Mulder!"
He stood staring angrily at the door as if he might be able to
shame it into opening. Then an idea occurred to him. He moved away a
little so that he would be out of sight of Mulder's spyhole. He
closed his eyes, holding the roses, imagining Mulder's beautiful mouth
around his penis, his tongue working the crown. Krycek started to
moan in simulated passion, quietly at first, then gaining gradually in
volume and urgency. The sounds reverberated satisfyingly around the
empty hallway. He increased the volume a little more and moaned
loudly for almost two minutes.
Still no response. He pictured Mulder taking the full length of
his shaft into his mouth and gave a long hungry groan. He heard one
or two door open along the hallway. He continued with a lengthy
crescendo of groaning, moving onto the finale with a strangled scream.
Mulder's door was flung open, Mulder staring at him in angry
disbelief. Krycek broke off in mid scream and smiled.
"When Harry Met Sidney," he said, holding out the roses, "Never
see it?"
Mulder grabbed the collar of Krycek's leather jacket and jerked
him inside his apartment. He looked along the hallway. Worried
puzzled faces stared out at him from the safety of their doorways.
"Sorry to have disturbed you," Mulder called out sheepishly, "My
friend has very bad asthma this time of year."
He shut the door and turned angrily on Krycek. "For God's sake,
what are you trying to do to me? You create such a scene in Denny's
that I can never show my face in there again unless it's behind a
false beard and moustache. And now I'm probably going to be
prosecuted by my landlord for disturbance of the peace! What the hell
do you want?"
Krycek put the roses down on Mulder's table. He felt ridiculous
holding flowers while he was being so very thoroughly reprimanded. "I
wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize."
Mulder seemed suddenly to stop breathing. "You want to
apologize?" he repeated.
Krycek shrugged and ran a hand awkwardly over his cropped hair.
Mulder's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Your attitude's certainly
changed from when we were in Denny's."
"Well I've been talking—I've been thinking about what you said
and you were absolutely right."
"I was?" Mulder asked in surprise. "About what?"
The question threw Krycek for a moment. He'd been sidetracked
into thinking how irresistible Mulder looked in his faded pink t-shirt
and blue jeans. He knew if he didn't get the answer right, he could
lose him forever. "I should have at least have let you know I'd be
away for a few days. I should have phoned or something."
Mulder frowned at him, still not satisfied. His creed "Trust No
One" flashed through Krycek's mind and it seemed a wonder that Mulder
had ever let him into his bed. Whether he would again remained to be
seen. Mulder pointed to the roses. "If you think those are going to
help you get inside my pants, you'd better think again."
Krycek held his breath. He took a chance. "Of course I didn't
think that." He pulled a large packet of sunflower seeds from out of
his jacket pocket. "That's why I brought these."
Mulder's whole body relaxed and he started to laugh. Krycek
laughed with him, gently, still not sure of where he stood. "Like I
said before," Mulder picked up the roses, "you're an asshole, Alex.
I'll put these in water."
Krycek watched him walk into the kitchen. He heard cupboard
doors being opened and closed. Presumably Mulder was looking for a
vase. Krycek waited.
"You wanna beer?" Mulder called out.
"Sure," He smiled, surprised at how much relief he felt. Mulder
was his for that night.
They ate a Chinese takeout at Mulder's dining room table, though
neither of them appeared to be particularly hungry, being more
interested in each other than the food. Krycek was trying to let
Mulder set the pace for the evening, not wishing to push him faster
than he wanted to go. Even so, he couldn't resist putting out his
foot and running it slowly up Mulder's leg.
"Cut that out, Alex," Mulder said but he was smiling. He was
eyeing Krycek over his glass of beer.
Krycek put down his fork, giving up all pretense at wanting his
food and stared blatantly back. Two pairs of intense green eyes
locked over the table. Krycek felt his stomach churn in sheer
excitement. Lord, he thought, the last time I felt like this was in
college. He didn't need to mess about sucking fries with Mulder, this
was something entirely different. He wasn't sure what it was but it
was different.
All at once, Mulder got to his feet and, grabbing Krycek by the
arm, pulled him along into the bedroom. There was nothing Krycek
loved more than caveman tactics, and he willingly allowed himself to
be thrown down on the bed. He guessed that Mulder, being used to
Skinner's dominant sexual personality, found a lover of equal physique
something of a novelty and was making the most of it.
Mulder climbed onto the bed, lowering himself slowly down on top
of Krycek. "You think I'm going to be really rough with you, don't
you?"
"A man can live in hope." Krycek put his arms round Mulder's
waist, pulling him down to him.
"Well I'm not." Mulder kissed along the side of Krycek's neck
and then sucked gently at his ear lobe. Krycek moaned in pleasure.
He wants to take it slowly, he thought, God help me, I'm not sure I
can handle this. Since The Menace's attempt on his life and his escape
to Hong Kong, his sex life along with the rest of his existence had
gone very much underground. He'd learnt to take pleasure from men who
were only interested in pleasing themselves. He wasn't used to a man
intent on giving him pleasure.
With that uncanny knack he had, Mulder seemed to read his
thoughts. "Has anyone every made love to you, Alex?" He was lifting
Krycek's t-shirt, kissing and playing round his nipples with his
tongue. They hardened at once under his touch.
Krycek drew in his breath sharply and started to writhe in
hunger. With a wicked giggle, he said, "I think you know the answer
to that."
"I'm not talking about fucking, I'm talking about making love."
"Same thing."
"No, it's not, it's very different."
Krycek's erection was straining against the cloth of his jeans,
throbbing insistently, nagging for immediate attention. He said
huskily, "I'll settle for a fuck, Mulder."
"I want to give you more than that." Mulder leaned down to kiss
him, tonguing his slowly and deeply. Krycek's erection stopped
nagging and started screaming. Mulder broke the kiss , staring down
at him. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. He kissed Krycek
again, harder, exploring his mouth, playing with his tongue. The
stubble on his face rasped against Krycek's, his hand moved to the
back of Krycek's head where he held him firmly, giving the kiss more
power. Krycek felt himself losing focus, aware only of the movements
of Mulder's tongue and the sensation of their erections chaffing
against each other through their jeans. The kiss could have lasted
two minutes or two hours, he didn't know, except that when it
ended he was panting helplessly and felt as randy as a tom cat in
heat. His hands moved hungrily along Mulder's body, pulling at the
fastening to his jeans.
"Tsk, tsk, Alex, not so fast." Mulder shook his head at him
affectionately.
"God, Mulder, I want you so bad." His voice cracked, surprising
him. Jesus, he thought, I sound so needy.
"Well look, can you at least spare the time to take off your
clothes for me?"
Krycek made a small sound of frustration in his throat but didn't
complain. At least his erection could be released. Still lying on
the bed, he stripped and was naked in the time it took Mulder to walk
into the bathroom to fetch a tube of lubricant.
"I don't know anyone who can take off their clothes as fast as
you, Alex. Let me tell you, don't ever take a job in a strip club.
If anyone blinked they'd miss your act."
"Oh ha, ha." Krycek was relieved to have got rid of his jeans,
for he felt a surge in his erection at the sight of the tube in
Mulder's hand. He lay back on the bed, his legs wide open in wanton
invitation, staring into Mulder's eyes.
Mulder unzipped his jeans, staring back. Then he lay himself
down beside Krycek, his right hand running down his lover's slender
body, down the smooth chest, the flat muscular stomach, the line of
dark hair leading to Krycek's groin. Mulder lent over, his tongue
following the trail of his hand until it reached the base of Krycek's
erection, where Mulder kissed the soft curls. Gently pulling Krycek's
legs even further apart, Mulder moved lower down, licking at the tight
sac, taking each testicle hungrily into his mouth and sucking it,
making Krycek grab at the bedclothes and groan from deep within his
chest.
"Suck my dick, Mulder, for God's sake!"
Mulder looked up at him. Krycek was breaking out in a sweat, his
body glistening and shining. "No, if I do that, you'll come straight
away."
"Oh Christ!" Krycek wailed, not bothering to conceal his
frustration any more. " I thought that was the whole goddamned point
of the exercise."
"Mulder smiled, "Not yet, it isn't."
"What do you want me to do, beg for it?"
"No, no, look, Alex, you don't have the hang of this at all,
you're supposed to be lying back and enjoying all this. A slow,
romantic build up, that's what we're trying to achieve here."
"Fuck your slow romantic build up!"
"Tsk, tsk," Mulder said again. He resumed his torture of
Krycek's testicles. Krycek gave a long protracted moan. The man's
heroically determined, you have to give him that, Krycek thought. But
I'm just a slut, I've never pretended to be anything, else, he's just
going to have to accept that. If he wants searing romantic emotion,
he'll have to watch "Gone with the Wind". On his own.
"Mulder!" he yelled.
Mulder completely ignored him, running his tongue now round his
anus, enjoying the musky smell, pushing at the tight opening. Krycek
was trembling so violently that Mulder was having to grip on to his
legs.
"Mulder!"
Now Mulder was gently, lovingly, fondling his penis, his fingers
circling the swollen head, running down the veins of the shaft,
encircling it softly with his fist and stroking the entire length.
Krycek whimpered, fervently pushing his hips up towards Mulder's hand.
This was torture, unbearably sweet and protracted but torture
nevertheless. Oh Mulder, do it now, fuck me for God's sake. He let
out a lingering cry. Mulder moved back to lie beside him, taking pity
on him, putting his mouth over his in a wet sensual kiss. The
movements of Mulder's tongue in his mouth and his fingers on his
erection pushed Krycek further and further into a frenzy. He moaned
into Mulder's mouth, wordlessly pleading with him.
Mulder finished the kiss breathless and shaking. It hadn't
occurred to Krycek before that he might be having trouble maintaining
control himself. When Mulder reached for the tube and applied some
lubricant to his fingers, they were trembling and Krycek wondered why
he didn't just let go and do what his body so obviously longed to do
and fuck the living daylights out of him. It was a mystery to Krycek.
Trembling or not, Mulder's fingers were confident and firm as he
pushed into the damp crease between the young man's buttocks, through
the tight ring of muscle, slowly fucking him and filling him and
stretching him. Oh this is more like it, now we're getting somewhere.
Krycek pushed back against Mulder's fingers, arched his body
sluttishly, asked for it harder and faster and of course didn't get
it. Mulder's fingers stubbornly maintained their slow tender rhythm
while he covered Krycek's chest and neck with kisses. Krycek's breath
started coming out in ragged gasps.
"I think I'm going to die," he wailed tragically.
Mulder gave a gentle laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, go with it—
stop fighting me."
"If I don't get fucked in a minute, I'm really going to die and
then you'll be sorry."
Mulder laughed again. "Oh you're impossible." Krycek felt the
long slender fingers slip out of him. He made a move to turn onto
his stomach but Mulder stopped him. "I want to watch your face, " he
said and lifted the young man's knees against his chest. Krycek had
reached a pitch where he didn't care if he had to hang upside down
over a pit full of alligators as long as he had a good hard fucking
and he complied willingly, wrapping his legs round Mulder's back. The
head of Mulder's erection pushed gently against the opening to his
body, there was a brief wave of blissful pain and Mulder was inside
him at last, pushing gradually deeper with each thrust. When Mulder
was in to the hilt, he stayed there for what seemed an age, appearing
to revel in Krycek's tightness and heat. Krycek lay groaning under
him, burning and filled to capacity, every nerve ending in his body
screaming for release. Sweat built up on his chest in rivulets,
soaking into Mulder's t-shirt.
At last Mulder began moving inside him with long firm strokes
that tore wrenching moans from Krycek's throat. It was so good to
finally feel him there, taking him, driving into him. Krycek squeezed
down on him. Mulder started to moan with him. Oh this is so good,
this is so good. He rocked his hips in rhythm with Mulder's, his
erection—sandwiched between Mulder's stomach and his own—was
squeezed tightly and chafed with each thrust. Krycek arched his back,
increasing the pressure.
"Oh Mulder, my beautiful Mulder." Who said that, was it me, I
don't usually say things like that. This romance shit, I hope it's
not catching.
He clung harder to Mulder's shoulders, like a man who feels
himself to be drowning. The most intense, incredibly sweet sensation
was beginning to take over him, spreading through his body until even
the tip of his nose was throbbing with it. The intensity increased,
starting to overwhelm him, to pull him down like the undertow of a
wave. God, Mulder, what are you doing to me?
Mulder seemed to sense the panic in him and held him close.
"It's okay, Alex, that's good, Alex, that's good." He began to thrust
harder, with more urgency.
Krycek was shuddering violently now on the brink of orgasm. He
struggled with the sensations overwhelming his body... too much
sweetness... too strong... to powerful... like going mad... losing
everything... too sweet... too good... Krycek tensed, his eyes rolling
back, and he screamed out Mulder's name, finally taken over by his
climax as it seemed to tear him apart with pleasure, making him come
explosively between their bodies, taking him to a pitch where he
almost blacked out. He was screaming out Mulder's name with each wave
of bliss, hoarsely, shamelessly.
"My God, Alex!" The violent contractions of Krycek's orgasm sent
Mulder into his own climax and he pumped the young man's convulsing
body full of his sperm.
"Mulder!" Every wave of ecstasy made his sob out his name and
with each wave Krycek's resistance seemed to come crashing down so
that by the time the pleasure had subsided, to his horror he found
that he had completely lost control, crying like a child, tears
sliding from the corners of his eyes. Ashamed, he tried to hide his
face but Mulder held it fast gazing intently into his eyes. Krycek
felt utterly exposed and vulnerable.
"No," he sobbed. "Please."
Mulder let him go, allowed Krycek to bury his wet face in his
chest. He held him tightly, laying spent on top of him, still inside
him, his penis twitching and spasming, utterly satisfied.
Krycek tried to sniff back the tears. "What did you do to me?"
he mumbled into Mulder's wet t-shirt.
"I was just loving you, that's all, Alex." He kissed the top of
his head. "What you're feeling now, there's no need to be ashamed,
it's great."
Krycek hit him feebly in the stomach. "It doesn't feel great," he
sobbed.
Mulder smiled to himself and held the young man even tighter.
Krycek snuggled into the warmth and security of Mulder's embrace to
recover himself. He tried to remember when he'd last cried. The
silo. When he'd finally given in to despair, he'd crumbled to the
concrete floor and wept. And before that? He couldn't remember.
Certainly no one had made him cry with pleasure before. Could this
mean that he was in love? And if he was, could it be a dangerous
state for him to be in? He was so used to thinking in terms of basic
survival that the idea of love seemed almost like a game, something
that happened to other people, a luxury for those with nothing
else to occupy their time.
And anyway if he was in love, shouldn't he be feeling different
from usual, weren't you supposed to feel peculiar or something? He
felt no different, it was just that he wanted Mulder to keep on
holding him like this forever.
"You okay?" Mulder whispered.
"Yeah. I'm okay," he murmured. "But would you give me at least
three weeks written notice in triplicate before you fuck me like that
again?"
"Now we don't say fuck do we, what do we say?"
"We say make love, don't we?"
"You won't need notice, Alex, you'll get used to it."
Now why did his stomach churn when Mulder said that?
They fell silent again. Krycek didn't know what Mulder was
thinking, but judging by the occasional contented sigh he gave, he was
a happy man. Krycek's mind still reeled from the most intense orgasm
of his life. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts settle.
A loud rumble from Mulder's stomach broke the tender silence
between them. They both giggled.
"I'm sorry," Mulder said, "my stomach has never had any sense of
timing."
Krycek rubbed it affectionately. "It's probably suffering from
an interrupted supper."
Mulder rolled over onto his side, running his hand down Alex's
stomach. "Are you hungry?"
"Now I come to think about it, yes I am."
"Okay." Mulder kissed the end of his nose and sat up. "Let's
have dinner in bed."
"Great."
"How about if I heat up everything we left of the Chinese, make a
couple of omelettes and stick it all in them?"
"Sounds good to me."
Mulder stood up and made his way unsteadily to the bathroom, his
jeans around his knees. In the doorway he stopped and turned round.
Krycek was lying where he'd left him, utterly satiated, his stomach
and groin covered in sperm.
"What did you just say?" Mulder asked.
"I said sounds good to me."
"You didn't say Bleurgh or Mulder, how can you be so
revolting? or I'll give you five years before your digestive system
collapses."?
"No, I didn't".
Mulder curled his lip in imitation of Elvis. "I think this could
be love."
"Get out of here," Krycek said. But he made no effort to deny
it.
>A Kiss is Just a Kiss
by Jane Symons
Standing on the other side of the street, Krycek watched Mulder
eating lunch in Denny's Diner. He had taken a window seat and
whatever he was eating involved a lot of fries and sauce. It looked
as if he was half way through so Krycek decided to let him finish his
meal—he was feeling a little queasy. He found a convenient doorway,
turned up the collar of his leather jacket and waited.
