The problem was that his mind wouldn't stop racing around the mystery skeletons
found up on Brown Mountain. He might call Scully, but no, he was sure Scully
was heading straight to the bathtub to work out all the kinks caused by sitting
in the car for several hours. He didn't know what she was complaining about.
She didn't even drive. Anyway, at least they had cable.
Grabbing the case file, he thumbed the power button on the remote, and sat back
against the headboard. A quick skim of channels didn't bring up a program with
even a resemblance to porn. Mulder settled on some nature show about tigers in
India. You never knew when that kind of information would be useful. The grisly
photos from the file spilled out over his lap as he reached down by his feet
and into his bag once more to draw out a half empty package of sunflower seeds.
The phone rang, startling Mulder and he spilled the seeds all over the bed.
"Dammit!" Mulder scooped the photos off the bed and onto the floor while the
phone's shrill ring sounded again. He rolled
over onto his knees as it rang a third time. "All right, already. Jesus,
Scully! Give me a second!" he muttered and picked up the receiver.
"This isn't Scully." Mulder froze. The deep voice was faintly familiar. "Who is
this?" he demanded.
"Aaw, come on Mulder. You don't recognize me?" The rough lilting tone suddenly
snapped to a picture with penetrating green eyes, in Mulder's head.
"Krycek! What do you want, you rat-bastard!" Mulder snarled into the phone.
"Actually, what I want and what you want are pretty much the same thing," he
answered in a husky voice that made the back of Mulder's neck tingle.
"What are you talking about?! Where are you?!" Mulder demanded.
"Questions, questions. How about some answers for you? I've got some
information, but you need to earn it first."
"What do you mean, earn it?" asked Mulder uneasily. He knew the danger in
dealing with this man, this killer, and he tensed up even further. Adrenaline
kicked in and he could hear is own harsh breathing echo
back at him.
"Relax. You'll see. I just want to talk, Mulder. Sit back. Are you on the bed?"
Mulder was truly perplexed, but he almost unconsciously turned and sat back
against the headboard. Relaxing, on the other hand, was nigh impossible. He
felt like a taunt bowstring, a loaded gun, a rider at
the starting gate with a well-muscled high-spirited thoroughbred between his
legs, bucking and sweating. Mulder quickly shook his head of the image just as
the horse changed to resemble a certain rogue agent.
"Yeah, I'm on the bed. Why?"
"No more questions. I need you to trust me."
Mulder's curt laughter came out in gasps. "Trust you?? You betrayed me! You
killed my father! You killed Scully's sister! You lied and stole vital
information! You're a traitor to the American people! I
won't trust you! I don't even want to speak to you!"
"Then why are you? You made up your mind about me long ago, Mulder, and that's
okay even though you don't have all the facts. Even you know you don't know all
the facts, but that's okay. I understand that you need to blame someone. My
question to you is, if you really hate me that much, then why haven't you hung
up yet?"
Krycek's whiskey smooth voice cut through Mulder's anger, and he was left to
wonder at himself. Why was he still listening? He wanted to hang up the phone,
but he felt compelled to grip the receiver more tightly in his hand. He could
hear the other man breathing and pulse quickened. The thoughts that plagued him
some lonely nights started to return and present themselves in clean clarity.
Dreams of glittering green eyes framed in long thick lashes, a tall sturdy
frame slick with sweat sliding over him, and that steady, raspy voice floated
through his mind, and was quickly shoved to the side as a more acceptable
answer rushed to the rescue.
"You said you had information," Mulder answered.
A breathy chuckle tickled his ear as if the speaker were right there. "Oh, yes.
Information. I did say that didn't I? But I also said you had to earn it. What
are you wearing?"
"Huh? What am I wearing? What kind of game are you playing, you sick bastard."
Krycek sighed impatiently. "Just answer."
Mulder paused, but what could it hurt? "Gray sweatpants and a T-shirt."
"Ah. The usual attire. I can picture you easily, but first, take everything
else off the bed."
"What?! Do you have a camera in here? Can you see me?" Mulder demanded.
Krycek sighed again. "Don't be an imbecile, Mulder. You always work on the bed
in your hotel room.
Mulder scowled at the reminder that Alex Krycek was once his partner, but he
put the phone down on the pillow, and then, swept everything into a neat pile
on the floor, sunflower seeds and all.
"Okay. Now what?"
"Now I want you to lay back and close your eyes."
Mulder settled down into the soft pillows, and wondered suspiciously if he was
dreaming. Krycek was starting to sound like Lucinda from 1-900-HOT-LEGS. At
least, she always started out her spiel the same way. "What now?"
"I want you to touch yourself."
"What?! Are you sick, Krycek? You must-"
"Come on, now, Mulder. Like you didn't know where this was going."
"I'm not going to provide you with the opportunity to tape me jerking off!"
Mulder was furious, confused and just a little bit aroused which only left him
more flustered. The soft laughter returned to whisper into his ear.
"If I wanted that, I could have my pick. You know, for a guy who's constantly
under surveillance, you just don't give shit do you?" Krycek asked. "Never
mind. I'm not recording you. I just have this reoccurring
fantasy about you. Want to hear it?"
Mulder opened his mouth to emit a scathing remark, but heard his own voice come
forth with a soft yes.It startled him so much that he missed the beginning of
Krycek's tale.
"-and your body is laid out for me in the streetlight that filters through the
window. I can imagine it all. The feel your chest pressed against me, the silky
soft skin on your neck, the salty taste as I lick every inch of you, and the
sounds too. Courtesy of those tapes you already mentioned, every moan and
murmur is imprinted into my brain. But there is one thing I don't have, and I
want it. I want to hear my name.I want you to say, 'Alex', when you come.
That's my price, Mulder. That's what I want."
Mulder was silent in astonishment, and at the same time, there was a thrumming
in his groin that was spreading fingers of warm through his body while Krycek
spoke.
"You expect me to do that? For information?"
"I expect you to do it, because you want to do it. The information is just an
excuse. I think you could swallow being a whore, before you could admit that
you actually wish I was there right now sucking you off."
Mulder was dumbfounded. The whore remark raised his anger, but the image of
Alex Krycek leaning over him with that cruel smile wrapped around his cock
caused a moan to slip unchecked past his lips.
"Yes, I thought so," Krycek murmured softly, "It makes me hot, too. I wish I
were there. I would straddle your hips and slowly move my hands up your chest
to feel those exquisite nipples harden under the soft cotton."
Mulder heaved in a sharp breath and held it while his left hand traversed his
rib cage to brush over an already stiff nub. "Yesss.." he breathed softly.
Krycek heard it and basked in exultation. Realizing that it was too late to
turn back now, Mulder cast aside the last of his pretensions. There was no
point in acting like he didn't want this, like he hadn't thought about it, not
when his dick was suddenly so hard that it ached. "I can feel you here, Alex. I
would arch up and rub myself against you shamelessly."
"Jesus..,"Alex panted into the phone, "I wish I could feel how hard you are.
Reach down and do it for me. Come on, Fox."
Not wanting to stop his left hand from idly toying with his increasingly
sensitive nipples, Mulder cradled the phone up between his shoulder and head,
and snaked his right hand down his flat abdomen and over the worn waistband to
trace his straining erection. His breath shuddered out and was sucked back in
with a hiss as his hand closed gently around the base.
"Tell me, Fox. Talk to me," Alex entreated huskily.
"Oh, Alex," Mulder moaned and heard Alex's own answering gasp. "Your hand feels
so good. I want to take these clothes off and feel you against my skin."
"Yes, Mulder. Do it. I want to touch every inch of you. I want to taste every
inch of you."
Mulder paused in his ministrations. He quickly scampered out of the loose
clothing and kicked them onto the floor. Cradling the phone back on his
shoulder, Mulder heard rustling sounds from the other end and hoped that Alex
had just done the same. "Alex?"
"I'm still here, baby. I wanted to get comfortable."
Mulder dreamily smiled and gave his cock a few lazy strokes.
"What are you doing, Fox? I know you must be touching yourself. Your hand is my
mouth, baby," Alex suggested. His sultry voice was making Mulder dizzy, but by
the labored breathing, he knew that Alex was just as excited. He imagined
Alex's wet tongue sweep from the base of his cock up to the head and he
followed the course with his hand.
"I want to taste you, Fox. I take up that beautiful, dark red head into my
mouth and curl my tongue around and over. My hand is rubbing up and down the
inside of your thighs-kneading with a rough pinch here and there. I relish
every drop of sweet, salty nectar that seeps from the end of your luscious iron
hard shaft"
Mulder was groaning loudly now. He briefly thought that his noise might wake
Scully, but he couldn't help himself. The combined stimulation of Alex's gritty
whispers and his own deftly servile hands following the course of an imaginary
Alex drove him senseless.
"I'm massaging your balls next. They're gorgeous, like the rest of you.I feel
how heavy they are, how tight they're getting. Tell me how tight they are. How
close are you, baby?"
Mulder gulped in a deep breath and tried to organize his thoughts enough to
answer. "I'm close, but I can last a little longer."
"Good, because I want more. I touch that amazing lush mouth with my fingers."
Then a thought intruded on Mulder's ardent bliss. He was afraid to ask. He
didn't want to stop the wondrous detailed narrative, but he had to know. It was
a part of Alex. It was the reminder of danger.
"Are you wearing the arm, Alex?" Mulder asked tentatively.
Silence greeted him, and Mulder tried to quiet his own heaving breaths.
"Please don't be angry, Alex. Please don't hang up. I want you so badly."
"Yes. For now, I have it on, but I won't touch you with it," Krycek growled
out.
His gruff tone only made Mulder squirm and whimper, "Okay. So maybe you're just
leaning on it. Where is your real hand? Is it still on my neck?"
"Yes. I can feel your pulse pounding away under my palm. I'm tempted to tighten
my grip and plunder that delicious mouth with my own or maybe with my cock."
"Oh, G-d, Alex! Yes. I want that."
Mulder waited anxiously for Alex's instructions. He glanced around the room for
his belt from earlier to simulate Alex's stranglehold. He could hear soft cries
issuing forth after every breath exhaled while his green-eyed demon paused.
"No," said Alex, "The object is to hear my name when you come."
Mulder felt a bit disappointed, but that vanished when he barely heard Alex
add, "Maybe next time."
His heart did a triple beat and his mouth went dry, but he was afraid to ask
Alex to repeat himself. Instead, he asked, "Then where are you touching me
now?"
"I'm licking and suckling behind your ear, but I'm grinding my hips into yours.
I want you to feel how much I want you, how much I've wanted you for so long.
Can you feel me, Fox? Can you feel how hard I am for you? My cock drips for
you."
"Yes, Alex," Mulder breathed, "I feel you. I want you."
"Put your fingers in your mouth, baby. Those are my fingers. Suck them. Lick
them. I want them slick and wet. I want to fuck you, Fox. I wish I was there so
I could really do it, but your fingers will have to do."
Mulder groaned around his own hand, and his other hand took up a gentle petting
up and down his engorged shaft.
"Bring your legs up baby, and spit some more into the palm of your hand. Take
that hand, and make your hole good and wet. Touch it. Rub it. Caress it."
Mulder tossed his head from side to side and his eyes closed to mere slits. His
breath came in short, sharp gasps as his slick fingers circled around the
sensitive anus.
"Slowly push one finger in. Have you ever been fucked before, Fox?" Alex asked
hoarsely, but the excited agent was beyond speech. Mulder cried out as his
finger unintentionally grazed his prostate.
"T-that's okay, baby. I understand. Add the second finger. Play w-with that
lovely hole. Scissor your fingers."
Alex paused to catch his breath. He felt and probably looked like he just ran a
race. He slowed down the pumping of his hand to try and gain some control, but
Mulder's grunts and whimpers made that impossible.
Deprived of Alex's voice, Mulder called out. "Alex! Are you there? Alex? Oh,
Alex, this feels so good. Fuck me Alex. Please, fuck me."
Alex bit down on his lip and willed himself not to come. "Yes. I'm here," he
gasped, "Take your fingers out all the way."
"Nooo...Please, Alex!"
"Three fingers now, baby. Thrust them in hard. In and out. And fist that hot
throbbing rod for me. Come for me, baby. I want to hear my name.'
"Uhn, uhn, oh..oh..Yes..yes..Alex, yes,..oh,.. G-d,..Alex!..ALEX!"
Krycek barely heard his wish granted before his own body was seized and shaken
to the core with an orgasm that gripped his balls in a vise and caused him to
scream in triumph.
Sweat soaked and sated, Mulder lay waiting for his heart to calm down. He felt
drugged and thirsty. He could still hear Krycek struggling for even breathing,
and was surprised to hear his voice.
"Thank you, Mulder," he whispered, "A file on Dr. Merkmallen and his theories
will be on your desk when you return."
Mulder might have asked who was Dr. Merkmallen, but even as he sluggishly
opened his mouth, he heard a click and dial tone. He held his breath to be
sure, but Alex was gone. Shoving to the side all the doubts, worries, and
questions he would surely have in the morning, Mulder drifted off to sleep
thinking only of two words that Krycek spoke that night- "Next time."
Phone
Deal
by Katail
Mulder shut the motel door behind him and threw his bag onto the bed. He tired
from the flight here to North Carolina plus the drive to Ashville, but he was
also wired and jittery- anxious to get started on the case. They wouldn't be
able to view the bodies until morning. The sheriff had left a message at the
manager's desk that he would meet them at the morgue. Mulder shrugged off his
jacket and opened his bag to pull out sweats and a T-shirt. The soft clean
clothes felt great, but did nothing to relax him.
