Shortly after Alex-the-Cat was evicted, Mulder found himself talking to
himself. This bothered him. He might be crazy as a loon, but he wasn't
insane, and he didn't want to become one of those odd people who carried on
conversations with themselves.
He compromised and began talking to the dead. It seemed less strange. Some
of his dead were more satisfying than others. His father, for example,
pissed him off. Even dead, the man had the power to reduce his son to an
inept, unattractive geek. Instead of a sounding board to bounce theories,
conjectures and bad jokes off, the late Bill Mulder, in Mulder's
imagination, simply heaped fuel on the bonfire of Mulder's guilt. His worst
sin, not surprisingly, was the fact that Fox Mulder had not only fucked,
but fell in love with, Bill Mulder's killer.
There was really no rationalizing it, not to this victim, so after the
first few conversations, he pretty much ignored the memory of his father.
Former colleagues were just as bad, particularly about his consorting with
his superior. Even people he liked and respected, like Reggie Perdue,
wouldn't try to understand about Walter Skinner, spankings and other sexual
tortures. After one horrible conversation with Reggie about Alex Krycek,
Mulder gave up talking with peers.
He finally settled on the one person, dead or otherwise, whom he knew would
understand: Melissa Scully. Even though he'd never gotten the impression
that Missy much liked him when she'd been alive, he figured that if she
could forgive Krycek's involvement in her death (which Alex swore she did),
and help him in his quest for redemption, then she'd surely be tolerant of
Mulder's foibles.
She was, in Mulder's head at least, and he found he really enjoyed talking
with her and wished he'd gotten to see more of her while she was alive.
A large part of him was embarrassed by this habit of talking with the dead,
almost as much as he was embarrassed by his relationship with, and need
for, Walter Skinner. Add all that to his craving for Alex Krycek, and he
wondered if there'd ever be anything in his life that he could discuss in
polite company.
That was his home life, not that he spent much time there.
Mulder's weekdays were spent investigating bizarre phenomenon and tracking
down alien conspiracies. His weekends, for the most part, were spent on
investigations of another sort.
He and Walter Skinner explored boundaries and limits, played games of
bondage and domination and found, among other things, that they actually
enjoyed each other's company.
What had begun as a dark lust and gnawing need evolved into something as
necessary to Mulder as breathing.
Mulder had been disconcerted when his partner deduced this unorthodox
relationship, but he soon came to rely on her to keep them undetected.
Scully kept up with office gossip and was careful to rein Mulder in when
his affection for their boss became apparent. She told him when Skinner
was getting out of character, too, although the AD had no idea that Scully
was aware of the affair.
Except for the fact that he hadn't heard from Alex Krycek in all this time,
life was good, and Mulder was almost happy. Almost. The nagging worry he
felt at the back of his mind for this deadly, damaged lover kept him from
totally embracing his new relationship. He felt incomplete. And not knowing
if Alex were alive or dead, he couldn't even grieve.
He'd given up looking for Alex spoor in the evenings after work or
following a run. If he looked, he was disappointed, and that was just too
painful.
He no longer looked, so he didn't notice the strange book on his cluttered
coffee table, the vodka in the freezer or the wool muffler and cap hanging
haphazardly next to a black leather jacket on his tacky coat rack. He
didn't notice anything amiss until he walked into his bedroom to change and
beheld Alex Krycek.
"Alex!" Mulder couldn't help the grin that split his face. Couldn't help it
from slowly dying when he noticed the gun pointed unwaveringly at his
chest. "Alex?" He slowed his forward motion. "Alex?" Softer.
"Where's the cat, Mulder?" Grim expression, clenched jaw.
"Alex, what's wrong?" A step forward and the gun cocked. "You're going to
shoot me?"
"Where's the fucking cat!" There was a note of hysteria in Krycek's voice.
Mulder put out a placating hand. "Landlord found out about him."
"So you what? Put him down? Gave him away? Couldn't bring yourself to leave
this," he gestured wildly with the gun, "mansion? Find a place that takes
cats? You just got rid of him?"
"No!" Mulder reached out slowly as if to stroke Alex' face. "He's with a
friend."
"Scully." Krycek said it sadly, resigned.
Mulder shook his head and smiled. He was beginning to understand. "I
couldn't leave here, Alex. How would you find me?" He moved forward until
he actually could touch his lover. "Your namesake is fine. He likes it at
Walter's. There're more things to get into there."
"Walter's. Skinner?"
"Yeah." Mulder gently took the gun out of Krycek's hand, uncocked it and
slipped the safety on. He tossed it gently onto the bed. "I took your
advice." He placed his hands on each side of Krycek's face. "God I missed
you," he said, leaning in for a kiss.
A miracle. Kissing Alex was akin to prayer, especially when he was like
this. Gentle and...earnest...
Alex Krycek was the one man Mulder had never been able to profile, but in
this instance, he understood what was happening and knew exactly what to
do. He finished the sweetest kiss of his life, smiled gently at his missing
lover, then slid slowly to his knees.
"What the hell are you doing?" Alex demanded, frowning.
"Awaiting your pleasure," Mulder answered serenely.
"My pleasure?" Alex sneered the words.
Mulder nodded. "I surrender."
"Surrender?"
"Acquiesce. Abdicate. Yield. Sub..."
Krycek interrupted the litany. "Shut up, Mulder."
Fox immediately fell silent. He stared up at Krycek, keeping his face as
devoid of emotions as he could. Open, but giving nothing away. "Don't
move," Krycek said after a long silence. Mulder willed himself not to react
when Alex stepped over to the bed and picked up the gun. "What if my
pleasure is to kill you?" he asked, putting the gun to Mulder's head.
"Then so be it," Fox replied, tearing his eyes away from Alex's to stare
straight ahead, awaiting execution.
"Any last requests?" Alex asked, cocking the gun.
Mulder met his eyes again. "Yes." Krycek smirked, as if some preconceived
notion were confirmed. "Watch over my mother. Don't let Cancerman get to
her again."
The smirk disappeared. Whatever Alex was expecting, it wasn't this. Mulder
kept watching as Krycek's face became a mask, brittle porcelain.
"I'm planning to kill you, Mulder," he said in his whispery, desperate
voice. "Why would you ask this of me?"
Fox let all his love show through. "Because, if you promise me this, I know
your next round won't be in your own head."
The mask began to crack. "I've just killed you, Mulder. Why would you
care?"
Mulder allowed himself a small smile. "Because, I can't fathom a world
without you in it," he replied in his own intimate whisper. Alex swallowed
and shuddered, making Mulder breathe a little easier.
"Maybe I'll just maim you a little." Alex caressed Mulder's cheek with the
barrel of his Glock. Fox's reply was to lean into the caress, almost
nuzzling the gun, wringing a small cry out of Krycek.
"Suck me," Alex ordered in a strangled voice, barely able to get the words
out.
Mulder's smile widened as he eagerly complied, loosing Alex's partially
erect cock. His half-mast state was a testament to the reforming assassin's
emotional turmoil, so Mulder did his utmost to put Alex's mind at rest by
coaxing his second favorite penis to full dress attention. (Fox counted his
own as number one on his list of favorites, with both Krycek's and
Skinner's in firm second place, depending on which one was currently
satisfying certain cravings.)
He nipped and licked from base to tip and back, sighing in contentment as
he burrowed his nose into the dark, crisp pubic curls, breathing deeply of
Krycek's unique scent, renewing the imprint of that scent in his brain. He
faltered momentarily when he first took Alex deep, not-so-vaguely aware of
the shifting of the gun from Krycek's real right hand to the stiff plastic
prosthesis. He felt fear for the first time in this encounter, not knowing
how much actual control Alex had with it.
He whimpered a bit, then was soothed when the fleshly right hand carded
itself through his hair to rest comfortingly against the back of his skull.
Alex didn't direct his thrusts, but the threat was there, and Mulder tried
to forget about the gun at his head and concentrate on the cock in his
mouth. He was bracing himself on Krycek's sturdy thighs, their muscular
solidity a Truth he'd never need question. He could tell when Alex was
close to coming, just by the shift in his thigh muscles, so he was
unsurprised when he was pushed roughly away.
Alex panted and cursed him, almost sobbing as he fought for control. Mulder
sat back serenely on his heels, waiting for both instructions and
forgiveness of whatever transgression had made Death a player in this game.
"Skinner's been making you practice," Alex rasped out. "I'll have to
remember to thank him for that." Mulder wouldn't rise to the bait, rather
sitting back on his heels, eyes downcast. He didn't just wait, though,
snaking his tongue out along his full lower lip, moistening it, fully
expecting to be pulled up into a kiss. The slap came as a shock, knocking
him off balance and onto his side. "Get these jeans off me. Then you can do
something useful with that tongue."
Mulder fought his temper, knowing that to strike back now would destroy
whatever relationship they might have. At the very best, they'd end in a
fuck of frustration but be unable to ever connect without hurting. At
worst, one of them really would kill the other. So he reined in his natural
tendency to beat the shit out of the silly bastard as he righted himself,
resisting the urge to lick at the blood he felt trickling from the corner
of his mouth. Let him look at blood if it turned him on.
He lowered his eyes demurely, mentally cataloging various planned torments
in order of intensity, and gently eased off Krycek's boots and socks before
tugging the loosened jeans down the lean hips.
Despite his anger, the scent of Alex's arousal made his mouth water, and he
swallowed convulsively.
"Come on, Mulder." Alex widened his stance. "Get that tongue working. But
don't touch my cock. When I come, I'm coming up your ass."
This was more like it. Mulder crawled closer, running his hands up the
front of those beloved thighs and around the back and up to gently knead
that best-loved butt. He adored Skinner's ass, it was hard and tight and
Mulder could become erect just thinking about it, a pornographer's wet
dream. But there was something about the roundness of Alex's butt that
seemed somehow vulnerable, muscular though it was. Walter's ass was
challenging in its perfection, whereas Alex's was inviting. His pleaded to
be stroked and petted, begged to be breached. And although Mulder was more
than willing to turn bottoms up, he didn't intend for Krycek to leave this
room until he'd gotten his own pound of flesh. Or more accurately,
pounding of flesh.
But that was for later. Now he nuzzled past the purpled cock, risking a
slurp to the underside that earned him a slight cuff, to begin long, soft
licks to the tender crease between leg and pelvis. He lapped there until he
felt quivering, then dry-licked cat fashion across the balls to the
opposite crease, where he began again.
Mulder could lick this body forever, he felt, talking sustenance from the
salt and secretions he forced from it.
Alex was having none of it, though, and kept him moving with light slaps
when the effects were too intense. At one point, Mulder had Alex almost
sitting on his shoulders when the agent tried to crawl through the
wide-spread legs to get to the goodies behind. Trying to not-so-subtly
knock Alex off balance got him another hard cuff, so in apology Mulder
knelt low to kiss and lap Krycek's elegant left foot, paying particular
attention to the high arch. He moved up the ankle and calf, gently urging
Alex to turn.
Mulder nipped at the back of his knees, causing a growled warning of "no
teeth." Fox grinned to himself and slurped his way up the backs of Alex's
legs until he was face-to-face, so to speak, with the lush sweetness of
Krycek's ass. He couldn't suppress a little throaty gurgle of glee. He'd
dreamed about this ass for months, tasted it in his fantasies. And now here
it was. Mulder leaned close, hands on the narrow hips, and breathed deep.
He smelled arousal and musk, and his own brand of soap.
Another smile. Alex had washed himself a short time before, obviously
readying himself for Mulder, a task Mulder'd have to see to himself before
they got much further along. But that was for later.
Now, he placed his thumbs in the crease, pulling the cheeks apart, making
room. Krycek's moan of anticipation spiked Mulder's own arousal, sending
pre-come to soak through his briefs and into the fine wool of his now
wrinkled suit.
He buried his face in the crease, stomach clinching to control the
short-lived gag reflex triggered by his cortex screaming "filth" before
being overcome by lust and hunger from his hypothalamus.
The taste was even better than the smell. Krycek seemed to pull away and
Mulder made frustrated noises until he realized the pretty thug was merely
leaning against the wall, no longer able to stand on his own, which put him
at a better angle for Mulder's access. Perfect. Mulder made his tongue a
hard little spear, worming it into the tight gateway. Alex squirmed,
moaning almost continuously. Mulder tongue-fucked him until his squirms
became full-fledged hip rotations, humming in reply to the moans, sending
vibrations deep inside his lover.
Alex made a noise that Mulder had never heard him make, right before he
abruptly turned, knocking Mulder back on his haunches. Alex leaned his
shoulders against the wall, hips bucking slightly, breathing hard. Mulder
watched from the floor, still not sure if Krycek was over his homicidal
bent. The Glock had disappeared, which Mulder took as a good sign. He
wasn't alarmed then when Alex, recovered somewhat, reached down to grab his
lapels, hauling him to his feet and in close for a kiss.
Alex pushed him away and wiped his lips. "Jesus, Mulder! Go wash. You smell
like my ass!"
Mulder glared back, anger flaring again. What the hell did he expect him to
smell like? "I like the way your ass smells," he stated, debating on
whether he should try to beat the bad mood out of the outlaw. But he wanted
to do this peacefully, show his love and acceptance with something other
than his fists. Not an easy task.
"Well, I don't." Alex fell back onto the bed, looking faintly ridiculous
wearing nothing but his rampant erection and a "Ski Kansas" t-shirt.
Mulder contemplated his options for a moment longer before turning to the
bathroom. There'd be time for paybacks. He wasn't going to let Krycek leave
anytime soon. Especially now that he'd put the gun away.
Fox not only washed his face and teeth, he took care of other bathroom
necessities, too.
"Took your own sweet time," was Krycek's only comment when Mulder returned.
Fox made no answer on his way to the bed, merely sank silently to his
knees, wincing slightly. He'd have bruises tomorrow, and silently gave
thanks that Skinner wasn't into kneeling games. "I'm not pointing a gun at
you anymore, Mulder," Alex stated, lying on his side, head propped up on
his hand.
"The gun never had anything to do with this." He held Krycek's gaze.
Alex opened his mouth to speak, closed it, pursed his lips and sighed. "Why
are you still dressed?"
Mulder couldn't help the grin. "Because you never told me to undress."
Another long suffering sigh. "Get undressed, Mulder."
Mulder clambered to his feet to comply, stripping quickly and tossing his
needed-to-be dry-cleaned suit into a corner. He debated leaving on his tie,
just for effect, but then decided he really didn't want to give Alex any
new ideas. While he climbed onto the bed, Alex opened the nightstand
drawer, presumably looking for lube and condoms.
"You kept it," he said softly, bringing out a shiny black
rhinestone-studded collar with a heart-shaped tag dangling from an s-hook.
"Why do you sound so surprised?" Mulder kneeled in front of him, the bed
much more comfortable on his knees than the carpet.
Alex shrugged, eyes still on the collar. "You got rid of the cat."
"The cat got evicted," Mulder corrected. He scooched up close, until their
knees were touching. "Besides, he's happier at Walt's. You wouldn't
believe," he planted a kiss on the tip of Alex's tiny nose, "what a sap
that man is. He's built this huge," another kiss on the side of the mouth,
"cat condo all up over his front window." A kiss on the other side of his
mouth. "It's amazing." Soft kiss on the lips. "He's very good with his
hands."
Alex snorted. "I'll just bet."
Mulder leaned back and studied him, head cocked. "You know, this little
jealous streak of yours is sort of cute." Alex arched his eyebrows. "In a
murderous kind of way." That almost got a laugh.
Fox brushed his hands lightly up Alex's cock, traced around his navel with
both thumbs, grasping the hem of his shirt to peel it off. He was stopped
by a small slap. "Don't presume," Alex said frowning.
"Well, it's hard to take you seriously with that on. Where the hell did you
find it?"
Alex looked down his chest at the skier posed for downhill racing in the
middle of a flat, snow-covered after-harvest corn field. "Yugoslav thrift
shop."
"They have thrift shops in Yugoslavia?"
Alex's well-duh expression caused his face to burn. Mulder hated to
blush; his face got blotchy and his nose turned about three shades brighter
than everything else.
"I think we need to worry more about what you're wearing," whispered the
assassin, reaching to place the collar around Mulder's throat. Fox groaned
from his increased arousal and felt himself burning even hotter. This
turned him on as much as it had the first time. The first time he wore the
collar was the first time he had sex, real sex, with Krycek. And it had
been a very long time.
"Please," he moaned.
"You want something, Fox?" They were close, knees to knees. Mulder could
feel Alex's warm breath as he spoke and the heat from his body. The hem of
the silly t-shirt brushed against the tops of Mulder's thighs.
"Alex, please. You're killing me here."
"So, what is it you need, Fox?" Alex fingered the red heart-shaped tag
hanging from the collar, rubbing his thumb across the engraved "Fox,"
making Mulder overly conscious of the engraving on the flip side of the
heart: "Property of A. Krycek."
"You, I want you," he was finding it difficult to speak. "Please, Alex. Do
me now."
Alex let go of the heart to trail his hand down Mulder's chest, tweaking a
nipple and tugging gently at the sparse chest hair. "I like it when you beg
me." Mulder's bruised mouth was captured in a kiss. "On your back," Alex
commanded when they broke for air.
Mulder complied, letting Krycek position him in the middle of the unmade
bed. He lifted his hips obediently for the pillows Alex pushed under him
and allowed his knees to be spread and pushed back. "Hold 'em," Alex
directed.
"Alex," Mulder moaned. He felt so incredibly...sluttish...holding himself
spread open like this. If he wasn't touched soon, he'd implode.
"Oh, yeah," Krycek breathed at him, "beautiful." He brought his hand down
Mulder's leg from the back of the knee to the cleft in his ass, teasing and
circling his anus.
Mulder was too far gone in sexual heat to appreciate the husky chuckle, but
later he'd replay this scene over and over to masturbate by: Alex teasing
his entrance, laughing at the involuntary reaction of that tight little
doorway.
"Ooh, hungry, aren't we?" Krycek cooed, almost breaching the sphincter.
"Greedy little mouth wants fed, huh?" Twisting until just the tip of his
finger was inside, not bothering yet with lubrication of any kind, not even
spit. Mulder was so hot he almost didn't care, only rasping out "lube" when
Alex went into the second knuckle. More laughter of "Baby wants it slick
now, does he?" and a gaping emptiness when the finger withdrew. Then cool
slick on the hottest part of his body. "Hungry, baby. Papa's gonna feed you
now, fill you up good. Fill you till you scream."
The finger was back, twisting and stretching. One became two, and then they
were gone, to be replaced with something harder and hotter.
"Finally," Mulder breathed, eliciting another chuckle. He groaned through
the burn and his groans soon became incoherent cries. Alex didn't give him
much time to adjust before beginning a driving beat.
"Feed the baby. Gonna feed the baby," he chanted in rhythm. Neither man
lasted very long, their deadly "foreplay" taking its toll. Mulder milked
himself to Krycek's beat, not even trying to hold off his climax. Alex
followed, shouting "Baby, baby, baby!"
Mulder lowered his legs with a groan, and they lay together panting. When
he could breath again, Mulder rolled over Krycek's limp form to reach into
the nightstand for wet wipes. He cleaned them up, carefully peeling the
condom off the near comatose Krycek. Collapsing back, Mulder turned his
head to scrutinize his lover. The t-shirt was soaked in sweat, hanging on a
too-thin form. Alex's hair was cut short, and there was an almost fragile
look to his face.
"What?" Alex responded to the scrutiny.
"Feed the baby?" It was Krycek's turn to blush. Mulder's gaze didn't waver,
causing Alex's blush to deepen. He turned a deep, uniform rose, even his
nose. Life was not fair.
"There wasn't a whole lot of blood getting to my brain," Alex said finally,
by way of explanation.
Mulder rolled until he was half laying on Alex, nuzzling. "You're a very
scary man," he said to Krycek's throat.
"I should go," Alex made a movement to disentangle himself, but Mulder
tightened his hold.
"You just got here," Fox pulled the t-shirt collar down and bit him on the
collarbone, sucking to mark.
"You have a life," Alex squirmed. "You don't need me in it."
"Yeah, so? It's never stopped you before."
"You never had anybody before."
Mulder sucked another mark along Krycek's collar bone. "I like the
homicidal maniac better than the suffering martyr."
"Fuck you."
"Later." Mulder gave up trying to access flesh from the collar, moving down
to kiss Alex's limp cock head, rim his navel and then shove up his t-shirt
hem to plant a loud raspberry in the middle of the flat belly. He tensed
his shoulders against the protesting slaps, running his hands up under the
shirt to circle the tiny, erect nipples. He broadened the circles, until he
encountered tight, too-smooth flesh.
He stared at his lover for a moment, then shoved the shirt up to Krycek's
throat, discovering three new round scars, located slightly above the left
nipple. All were red and only slightly healed.
"How close did I come to losing you?" he whispered.
Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath before meeting Mulder's stare.
"Close."
Mulder's hands convulsed, and he said nothing, merely planted a soft kiss
under the grouping.
"I died, Fox."
"Oh, god," Mulder groaned.
"I died and was gone from my body. I saw it. Like they say in the books. I
was gone and like floating, you know? Floating away, and then I saw Missy,
and she made me go back."
"Go back?"
"Back into my body. She made me."
"Melissa Scully?"
"She made me," Alex repeated. "She can be a real bully. You wouldn't think
it to look at her, but she is." He avoided eye contact, looking past Mulder
at a glow-in-the-dark Bart Simpson setting atop Mulder's chest'o'drawers.
"Is Scully...Dana, I mean...like that?" he glanced at Fox, who remained
speechless. "It'd explain a lot."
"I don't want to lose you, Alex," Mulder said when he could get his voice
to work. "I want you here. With me." He began to maneuver the shirt over
Krycek's head.
"That's what Missy said," Alex cooperated with his de-shirting, which
calmed Mulder. "She said you needed me, that you were talking to yourself."
Mulder swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "She said that?"
"Yeah. So, do you?" Mulder was silent. "Fox?"
He laid them down, entwining himself with Alex, leg between leg, arm over
chest, pelvis to hip. "I don't talk to myself. I did. For a little while,
but I don't anymore."
"Good," Alex said a little sadly.
"Now I talk to dead people."
"Excuse me? Did you say 'dead people'?"
Mulder nodded, uncomfortable. "People I know who've died. Like Melissa. I
talk to Melissa."
Alex's expression didn't change. "Does she talk back?"
"No. It's not like she's really there. I mean, I don't see her or anything.
I...just talk to her." Alex looked solemn but not skeptical like Mulder
would expect. He continued, unable to stop. "It's so lonely here now with
Alex gone. He's a good listener. I miss having him here. Of all the people
I've ever known, Melissa seems the most likely to...well...to understand
about...everything..." His voice tapered off.
"Everything?"
"Yeah, like Walter and pain and you and why I can't stop my quest and—"
"Pain?"
"What?"
"Pain." Mulder gave Alex his best blank look. "As in Walter and pain and
me...?"
Fox nuzzled in closer and spoke to the crook between Krycek's neck and
shoulder. "I couldn't get it out of my mind, Alex. What I did to you...with
that old belt...and what you said about keeping the nightmares away and
letting you sleep and I couldn't stop thinking about Walter and what you
said about him and I started pushing him and pushing him and finally he
showed up here to confront me and I told him what I needed and he
knew...Alex, he understood about...it...and he helps me...we...help each
other...it's good between us, Alex. It's really good." He bit down
slightly, sucking to leave a light mark.
"Oh, god, Fox. What I've done to you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"No, don't be!" There was a smile in Mulder's voice, and he tightened his
hold. Then he bit Alex again and tweaked a nipple. "I feel better than I
have in years. I sleep at night. Hell, except for aliens colonizing the
earth, my life is pretty damn good. Well, I do miss the cat, I talk to dead
people, and I didn't know if you were dead or alive. Call the next time
you're lying near death."
"You'd have been better off if I'd died. Melissa was wrong, Fox. You don't
need me."
"I do," whispered against Alex's chest.
"No, you don't." He wouldn't look at Mulder. "You've got Skinner. He's
better for you. Less baggage."
Fox made a sound of disgust. He rolled over onto Alex until he was sitting
straddled on his stomach. "You want baggage? An assistant director of the
FBI is having a homosexual affair with a subordinate. A subordinate who is
considered both a political embarrassment and a lunatic. Imagine the
scandal."
"So you want me?"
Mulder nodded. "I want you both."
"Skinner'll love that."
"He won't make me choose." Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. "We've already
talked about it." Mulder bounced a little, making Alex go "oof." "Don't
you."
Alex bucked suddenly, dislodging and dumping Mulder onto his side. They
tussled playfully before Mulder let himself be rolled over and sat on.
"Greedy," said Alex leaning down for a kiss.
"Uh huh," Mulder answered around the rogue's roving tongue.
"Greed can be good," Alex said when they broke for air. "I can relate to
greed."
"So you're okay with this? Sharing me?"
"Okay doesn't quite describe it." He bounced. "I'm pragmatic, though, and
he's obviously good for you."
"Skinner has become as necessary to me as air." Fox ran his hands up and
down Alex's thighs, tracing circles with his thumbs. "As necessary as you."
He watched Krycek's eyes widen.
"I'm incredibly UN-necessary, Fox."
"Not to me you're not." Mulder gazed intently into the jade green orbs,
trying to relay the feelings he didn't have words for. The phone ringing
brought him back to earth and he watched in horror as his nemesis stretched
toward the nightstand and answered it.
"Mulder," said Krycek in a passable imitation of the agent's voice. Fox
struggled to get out from under him, but Alex merely settled heavier on his
stomach. "Walter," the rogue purred, "I was just thinking about you."
Mulder squirmed, and Krycek bounced to keep him quiet. "I sound strange?
Fancy that." He switched to his own voice. "Must be an X-File."
Mulder could hear Skinner's angry voice, even though he couldn't understand
the words. He didn't really need to.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Alex drawled in answer to some threat. "We'll see how
tough you are stripped naked with your ass in the air." A pause. Krycek
wiggled a little while he listened, making Mulder squirm underneath him.
"So that mean you're up for a party? We'll be waiting for you, Walter.
I'll get him nice and warmed up for you. See you soon." He clicked off and
laid the phone down.
Mulder glared up at him. "This is your idea of sharing?"
Alex gifted him with an angelic smile that sent chills up his back. "Didn't
your mother warn you about being careful what you wished for?" the rogue
whispered.
"Alex," Mulder warned. Krycek bounced a few times in reply, pursing his
lips and frowning, as if pondering a great thought. He grinned suddenly,
bounced hard once before scrambling off to the edge of the bed. His
prosthetic gave him an odd hands-and-knees gate, reminding Mulder of his
three-legged cat.
Adrenaline surged through Mulder when Alex reached over the side of the bed
and came up with the Glock. "What are you—?"
"Don't worry, Mulder. I'm not going to shoot Mount Baldy. Quite the
opposite." Alex proceeded to empty the clip, placing the rounds in the
night stand drawer. He pulled the slide back, too, and removed
the last cartridge by hand before dry-firing several times, pointing toward
the bathroom, making sure the gun was empty. "I just wanna make sure he
doesn't shoot me." He settled himself at the head of the bed, making
himself comfortable with pillows behind his back. He was in easy reach of
the empty gun on the nightstand.
The anticipatory gleam in his eyes was scarier to Mulder than the desperate
psychopath of earlier. "Alex," he whispered, "I care for him."
"I know. And now I'm going to get you all ready for him." He reached for
Mulder's collar, tugging the heart tag toward him. "Come on. I want him to
see what I do to you."
"Oh, god," Mulder moaned, scooching up towards him. This wasn't at all what
he'd had in mind when he said he wanted them to share. Truthfully, he
hadn't really thought about what exactly sharing would entail. It had
seemed so academic and far away. Now, it was almost here and getting
closer. Skinner lived a scant quarter hour away. "I'm a slut."
"Yes, you are," Alex pulled Fox's legs this way and that, arranging him so
that his ass was almost in Alex's lap, legs akimbo on either side, bent and
sprawled. "It's one of your virtues. Now let's see if you're still juiced
and loose." Mulder felt helpless against the lust Krycek engendered in him.
What would Walter think when he saw him like this?
Alex inspected Mulder's anus, which was still stretched and lubed from the
sex. "Pretty, pretty," he said inserting two fingers. "Let's just see how
hot I can get you before this menage is complete." He scissored and
twisted, finally locating Mulder's hard little pleasure gland.
Mulder was laying mostly on his shoulders, totally open and accessible to
Krycek's probing. He'd be sore tomorrow, he knew, but it felt so damn good
now. Spirals of pleasure, like the aftermath of a good orgasm, cycled
through him, leaving him lethargic and unable to do anything other than
submit and enjoy. Krycek's murmured endearments, obscene suggestions and
loving curses only added to Mulder's pleasure, sending him into a deep
sexual high.
He was incoherent by the time Skinner reached his apartment.
Mulder didn't hear a thing, so far into sexual oblivion that his universe
had narrowed down to a single body part. Krycek obviously heard Skinner's
key at the door. Abruptly, he exited Mulder's body and wiped his fingers on
the sheet. Shoving long legs off to one side, he grabbed an arm, pulling
Mulder up and around until he could hook his stiff left arm around the
agent's neck, holding the empty gun to his head with his right.
Later, when Mulder could think again, he'd cringe at Skinner's despairing
look when the big man first beheld his lover held at gunpoint by a person
Skinner had every reason to hate.
"Hey, Walter," purred Alex, drawing little circles on Mulder's temple with
the muzzle.
"Krycek." He said the name like a curse.
"Please disarm yourself. We want to keep this civilized."
When Skinner hesitated, Alex moved the gun, stroking, down Fox's face,
tracing the outsized nose down to his mouth, caressing his lips. Mulder
moaned through the caress, pressing into the gun.
"Mulder?" Skinner said, glaring.
"Wha—?" Mulder tried to form words, but his ass was still twitching from
Krycek's finger fucking and his mouth just didn't seem to work. And at the
moment, he couldn't figure out the connection.
"What the hell's wrong with him?"
"Sex-stupid," Alex said fondly. "Surely you've seen him in this state
before." He ran the gun under Mulder's chin, looking pointedly at Skinner.
"You're not going to shoot him," Skinner said as he took his service pistol
out of the holster at his back.
Indicating the night stand with his chin, Krycek said, "Now the hideout."
"I don't have one," Skinner stated through clenched teeth, putting his gun
down.
"Oh, please." They matched glares for a long beat. Mulder, beginning to
come out of his stupor, caught Skinner's eye and managed to smile, nodding
slightly.
A muscle bulged in the AD's jaw before he bent down to unstrap his ankle
holster. Straightening, he slapped it down next to its mate. "Now what?"
Krycek cocked his head, making a show of thinking. "Well, you're a tad
overdressed. I think now would be a good time to remedy that." He nuzzled
into the side of Mulder's neck, eyes never leaving the AD.
Mulder's stomach clenched at the thought of both his lovers naked, here,
in this bed, together. Both lust and an irrational wave of jealousy spilled
over him. They were both so...so...beautiful that he became afraid. What
if they wanted each other more than they wanted him. What if they had sex
and still hated each other and decided he wasn't worth the irritation. What
if they killed each other? What if this worked?
His cock twitched.
Krycek's attention was riveted on Skinner's slow peeling off of his
blue-gray Henley, the gun held loose by the side of Mulder's face. On
impulse, Fox turned and kissed the gun barrel. No one paid any attention.
He licked it. Skinner had tossed his shirt in the corner on top of Mulder's
suit and was toeing off his shoes. Mulder hardened his tongue and rimmed
the barrel. Still nothing.
Krycek and Skinner were too intent on each other to pay any attention to
Fox, and he was unused to not being the center of their worlds. Sex-stupid
or not, he knew a sure-fire way to remedy that. Since Alex seemed
hypnotized by the unbuckling of Skinner's belt, he didn't notice Fox
maneuvering the gun barrel with his nose until he could actually get it in
his mouth.
Going down on the four-inch barrel of Krycek's Glock was strangely erotic.
Although Fox knew intellectually that he was in no danger, his body felt
somewhat differently. Adrenaline surged through him, charging all of his
nerve endings. He put his soul into it, licking and sucking as if it were
animate and could feel, and missed Skinner's utter look of horror when he
noticed the gun in Mulder's mouth.
Krycek noticed the look, however. "Christ!" he yelled, jerking the gun away
and throwing it across the room.
"Ow!" cried Fox, gingerly feeling his already sore mouth. "It was empty,"
he protested to Krycek's outraged "Are you nuts!"
"I don't care! You know bett—shit!" Alex's tirade was cut short when a
large hand clamped around his throat, jerking him away from Mulder.
"Walter?" Another hand hooked around the collar Mulder forgot he was
wearing. Using his thumb to flip over the little red tag, Skinner read the
engraving, snorted and shoved Mulder away. The agent died a little,
thinking that Walter had reached his limit.
"You think he's yours?" Skinner whispered to Krycek, tightening his grip.
"Well, you can have him, boy." Mulder whimpered in despair. "But that means
your ass is mine." A small shake, like a terrier with a rat. "And what's
yours belongs to me now." Another shake. "Remember that."
Skinner released Krycek with a sudden push, sending the rogue toward the
middle of the bed. Even while he tried to comfort the gasping-for-breath
Alex, Mulder couldn't keep his eyes off the big AD, whose eyes never
wavered from Krycek's. Skinner sliding his belt through the loops was a
turn on for Mulder during normal times. Now, the act was not just tinged
with danger, it was an act of war. Mulder found himself stroking Alex's
arm, petting him, comforting and being comforted.
The belt was the first movement in an elaborate game of power in which
Mulder was the prize. He'd already played one part as catalyst and was now
relegated to the wings. What would happen with this convoluted relationship
was out of his hands, and all he could do was watch.
"Mulder says you have stones," Skinner said, doubling the belt and slapping
it lightly against his thigh. "He says you're the toughest son of a bitch
he's ever known. Says you can take anything anybody can dish out."
Krycek swallowed visibly, light fingerprint-sized bruises already showing
on his throat. "That what he says?" he said hoarsely.
Skinner nodded, still slapping the belt. "I personally haven't seen it."
Alex licked his lips and smirked. "I don't know about anybody, but I can
certainly deal with anything you've got to give."
The belt kept time with Mulder's heartbeat, and he wondered if that were
more than coincidence.
"Show me," Skinner whispered.
Krycek's smirk turned into a wide, humorless grin. Silently, he stretched
out on his stomach, arms and legs spread wide, face buried in a pillow.
He wiggled a bit, as if drilling his groin into the bed, a patented Krycek
seduction move. Mulder wondered if it had as much impact on Skinner as it
had on him.
If it did, it didn't stop the big man. The first blow of the belt made
Mulder start. Skinner laid a livid red stripe across Krycek's ivory ass.
Alex didn't move. Even his fingers remained loose and unclenched.
The second blow left a parallel stripe across the small of his back. Mulder
whimpered, but Alex didn't even flinch.
Skinner kept the stripes moving up, evenly spaced lines of red from
Krycek's ass to shoulder blades. Then the stripes got creative. Diagonals,
forming diamonds, and soon the diamonds were filled in. Someone started to
keen, an eerie high-pitched sound. Mulder thought it came out of Krycek,
but he couldn't be sure. He clamped his hands over his own mouth, making
sure the sounds weren't his.
The outlaw still hadn't moved.
Mulder didn't see how he could do that—take those blows and not move. He
couldn't have done it. He'd tried with this very belt and couldn't;
couldn't lay still not knowing when exactly the blows were coming or where
they'd land. Mulder liked being tied. He needed the freedom that came with
struggling against unbreakable bonds, while screaming his pain and fury to
the heavens.
This battle of wills unnerved him, and he wondered if Alex would let
himself get beat to death rather than react to Skinner.
"Alex," Mulder whispered.
"Fox," Alex replied in a whimper. Then louder, "Fox!" and finally a wailed
"Fooxx!" It was as if Mulder's plea accomplished what Skinner's blows could
not.
Galvanized, Mulder grabbed Skinner's upraised arm. "That's his safe word!
It means he's had enough."
Skinner shrugged him off. "Not hardly."
"Walter, no! Stop it now!"
The muscle in Skinner's jaw jumped. "I know a little more about this than
you do, Mulder. Now, you either trust me or you don't," he said through
clenched teeth.
There it was again. Trust. He trusted Skinner with his own life, but
Krycek's, too? Could he? Did he? This was a pivotal moment, a crossroads of
sorts, and his entire future rested with his answer. "Oh, god," he moaned
and stepped away.
The strapping began again. Mulder found himself once again next to the bed
on sore knees, clutching the bedclothes in time with Krycek's right hand
clenching and unclenching the pillow he'd used to muffle his cries. In that
moment, Mulder understood. Although Alex had cried 'Uncle,' so to speak,
his body language had barely changed since the start.
He was still spread-eagle, his posture almost relaxed, giving nothing away.
If Skinner stopped the beating before Krycek gave anything up, Krycek would
win.
Skinner didn't like to lose.
The blows continued. Mulder didn't understand how they could do this.
Skinner was sweating, head and torso glistening as if he were coated in
oil. His arm and shoulder had to be aching, but he didn't even slow, and
Krycek didn't move.
When Alex cracked, he did it suddenly, surprising everyone.
"I'm sorry, papa!" he screamed, curling into a tight ball. "I'm sorry, I'm
sorry!" over and over.
Skinner immediately dropped the belt. A jut of his chin sent Mulder
scurrying to the bathroom. When he returned with a wet washcloth and a
bottle of aloe, Skinner was sitting on the side of the bed, stroking Alex's
hair, murmuring rough endearments and encouragement, telling him how brave
and strong and wonderful he was. "Shh, shh," he said, "it's over now.
You're okay. We're okay. It's all right. We'll get through this."
Mulder stood silent, unaware of the tears on his own face.
Skinner took the washcloth and attempted to get to Alex's face, but he only
curled tighter. Not pressing, Skinner merely traded the cloth for the aloe
and began to dribble the cool gel over the Krycek parts he could get to.
Mulder closed his eyes briefly and felt his cock harden. This was the good
part, the payoff. Being so gently tended to by this big, hard man was
unbelievably erotic. Being punished by him and then forgiven was even
better. Alex was so lucky.
Mulder moaned lowly while Skinner lightly smoothed gel over the welted,
outraged flesh, wishing it were him, and glad it wasn't. He marveled. For
all the brutality of that massive beating, no skin was broken, no blood
drawn. Skinner was very good at what he did.
The ball Alex was curled into gradually loosened as Skinner soothed and
comforted. When his face became visible, Mulder leaned in with the now
cooled washcloth, wiping away tears and snot. He'd need to change his
sheets.
"There now, it's all over. You were very brave, I'm so very proud," Skinner
murmured soothingly. "Fox is here, and he's going to fuck you now. Would
you like that?" A slight nod and a choked sound that could have been a
'yes.'
Skinner stood, relieved Fox of the damp washcloth, kissed him gently and
left the room, grabbing his shirt and closing the door after him.
Mulder stared toward the closed door, waiting with dread for the sound of
his apartment door. When he heard the refrigerator opening and closing and
then the pop of a beer can, he breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the
universe. He wanted them both.
"Fox?"
"Hey," he answered softly, climbing back on the bed. "You doing okay?"
"Hmmm. Floating."
"God bless endorphins," Fox said while reaching for a condom and lube. He
helped Alex up to his knees and entered him with very little need for prep.
"You're so relaxed," Fox said, kissing a shoulder blade.
"Feel good," Alex slurred, almost asleep.
Everything about their lovemaking was languorous, lethargic even, except
the orgasms. Alex cried out when he came, the way he hadn't when he'd been
beaten. It was a loud wail, full of sadness and despair. Mulder wondered if
they were all mourning the loss of each other.
He wanted both of them, but had to wonder if the price they'd pay for his
desires was too high, too dear. That they were both willing to pay it
humbled him, and added more fuel to the bonfire of his guilt.
Alex sighed as Mulder cleaned him up and fell fast asleep, bothered not in
the least by Mulder's tugging and pushing to maneuver him under the covers.
Mulder stroked him for awhile, finger-combing his hair back into place and
lightly tracing the welts and bruises across his shoulders and down his
back. He marveled at the love he felt for this beautiful, damaged, deadly
man. His enemy. How it seemed so wrong and felt so right.
He wanted them both.
Laying one last kiss on Krycek's temple, Mulder rose from the bed, donned a
pair of sweatpants and prepared to face Skinner.
Walter was sitting on the couch reading, a glass of colorless liquid in one
hand, feet propped on the coffee table. The television was on and silent.
Mulder plucked the hardback copy of Douglas Adam's "Life, The Universe and
Everything" out of Skinner's hand and looked at it quizzically for a moment
before setting it down.
"You brought a book?" he asked, settling himself on Skinner's lap.
"It was on the table," Skinner said, gathering up as much of Mulder as he
could hold. "I assumed it was yours."
Fox shook his head, "My copy's an old paperback."
"Well, this one's a signed first edition." They kissed. "He must have
brought it as a gift for you."
"You know what the answer is, don't you?" Skinner merely cocked an eyebrow.
"To life, the universe and everything?" At Skinner's slight smile, Mulder
answered himself: "42."
"I've always thought so," Walter said and kissed him again. When they broke
for air, he offered Mulder a sip from the glass of vodka he still held.
"It's not bad."
"Yeah. He's got better taste in vodka than you have in beer."
"What's wrong with my beer?" Mock outrage.
"How anyone who wears Armani can drink generic beer..."
"Generic beer is how I afford the Armani," Mulder began. Skinner shut him
up with another kiss.
"Fox," Skinner said, nipping at his full lower lip, "get the fuck off of
me. You weigh a ton."
"Mean bastard," said Mulder, rearranging himself. They ended with Skinner
sitting in the middle with Mulder's legs draped over his lap. Mulder put
all the couch pillows, except for his tacky Elvis-at-Graceland souvenir
pillow, under his head and shoulders, making a nest.
"How is he?" Skinner asked, bringing up the topic they were both avoiding.
"Down for the count," Fox replied. "How are you?"
Skinner sighed and closed his eyes. "I shouldn't have done that to him. I
didn't have the right."
Mulder considered that a bit. "You made him give. He's not used to doing
that."
"I didn't have the right."
"You didn't do anything bad. You didn't do anything we didn't want you to
do."
"I didn't have the right," Skinner repeated. "I don't care about him. I
shouldn't have done that."
"None of us was ready to give what was required," Fox said. "Alex thought
he could submit to you without giving anything up. He was wrong. I thought
I could have everything I wanted. It never occurred to me I'd have a price
to pay. And you. I can't begin to speak for you."
"I wasn't prepared not to hate him."
Fox smiled. "He gets to you."
"I don't want him to get to me."
"Too late, Walter."
Mulder was stretched out on the couch, head on Skinner's lap, arguing about
the symbolism in "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly"—Walter having won the
toss for their late-night television viewing—when Alex walked out of the
bedroom.
He'd pulled on jeans, but left them half unzipped and unbuttoned, his hair
was tousled and his eyes enormous. The right arm was gone, leaving him
looking vulnerable and unbelievably young. Mulder thought he looked
delicious. Fox smiled encouragingly, then yelped in protest when Skinner
pulled a pillow out from under his head and dropped it on the floor in
front of them.
The game was back on.
Krycek approached them, pausing to finger the collar still around Mulder's
neck, before sinking to the floor and the pillow.
"He wouldn't let me take it off," Mulder explained briefly.
"Games have rules," Skinner said, taking the bottle of beer Mulder held on
his stomach and handing it down to Krycek.
Mulder made a token protest, just because he was expected to, as Alex
tipped the bottle back and drank what was in it down in one long pull.
"You can get up and get another one for the two of you," Skinner told him,
effectively shutting off his griping.
Mulder gave a theatrical sigh as he rose off the couch and made his way
into the kitchen. He took the empty from Alex, stroking his face with the
back of the hand holding the bottle. When he returned, Skinner was tearing
pieces off the now-cold pizza they'd ordered and was feeding it
bite-by-bite to Alex.
He paused for a bit, watching. Skinner would tear off a bite and hold it
out to Alex who obediently opened. Pizza and fingers both went into the
pretty mouth. The fingers came out clean.
They were intent upon each other, paying little attention to Mulder and his
beer. He watched, feeling his cock harden. Unbelievable after two orgasms,
but this was unbelievably erotic. Alex was...well, docile, not a word
he'd ever thought he'd use to describe such a tough man. And Skinner!
Mulder had been on the receiving end of that tenderness and knew how safe
and sweet it was to give up everything to Skinner's control, even for a
little while. It made his toes curl and he squirmed. Damn! but this was
good.
Mulder returned to the living room in time to offer Alex a drink before
Skinner began feeding him the second piece of pizza. Alex drank deep, then
briefly rimmed the bottle while staring straight into Mulder's eyes. He
stopped at a light cuff from Skinner, grinned and took the offered tidbit.
He consumed four large pieces that way before they all settled back to
watch the end of the movie.
Mulder's head was back on Skinner's lap, one hand dangling off the couch to
pet and caress Krycek while Walter did the same to him. Perfect. They
watched the showdown in the cemetery where the anti-hero dispatched
villains only somewhat worse than himself and rode away with the gold.
Mulder wondered if Alex related. He wondered if Skinner made comparisons.
He wouldn't ever think of spaghetti westerns in quite the same way.
"So Krycek," Skinner said while the credits rolled, "how's your ass feel?"
Alex twisted around to stare at him. "About like you'd expect," he said
after a long stare.
Walter barked a laugh. "Let me rephrase: Can you stand to be fucked again?"
A slow smile lit his face. "Yeah. I can stand it."
Skinner pushed Mulder up off his lap and stood holding out a hand to help
Krycek up. Mulder sat there feeling suddenly bereft until Skinner lifted an
eyebrow at him and said, "Well come on, Mulder. I'm sure we can find
something for you to do."
Mulder's stomach lurched. It was really going to happen—all three of them,
naked, together. He padded behind them, achingly hard.
It was a snug fit, the three of them in Mulder's bed. It made him wish he'd
spent the extra for a custom king like Skinner had. They'd put Alex in the
middle on his side, Skinner behind, readying him for entry. Mulder was
positioned for a classic 69, facing Krycek's cock. He hadn't started,
though, wanting to watch and, just as exciting, listen.
Skinner cooed, "Sweet boy. Such a sweet ass," with his cock beginning to
breach Alex's tight anus. "Oh, yeah. Sweet. Tight little bastard, aren't
you, boy?"
Alex swore softly, mostly in Russian, clutching convulsively at Mulder.
"Shit!" he cried out when the head popped through. "Motherfucker! I always
knew you were a size queen, Fox."
Skinner chuckled at that, then reached down to hold up Krycek's top leg,
giving himself better access. "Sweet, sweet. You gonna yell for me, sweet
boy? Let me hear you. I like it when you yell." He eased himself in amidst
much swearing, resting and, if his grin was any indication, enjoying Alex's
vocalization.
"Fucker, fucker. Motherfucker," Alex chanted. His cock bobbed in front of
Mulder's face, threads of precome dripping past close enough to tongue. So
he did. Tasting wonderful. He stretched his tongue to lick the head of
Alex's cock and felt a tongue on his. Stretched some more to take it into
his mouth and felt his own cock being engulfed. Alex's cries were muffled.
Alex mimicked everything Mulder did, so the agent indulged himself, licking
and sucking, nibbling, humming. Alex's hums intensified when Skinner began
moving in him, and that movement, too, was mimicked. It was a type of
synchronicity that the three of them had then. At the last moment, Mulder
deep-throated Alex, was reciprocated and came, swallowing hard.
Mulder never knew who cleaned them up. He only knew it was beyond him this
time. It was Skinner, he thought, who righted him, turning him around so
his head was on a pillow and pulled covers up around him. He was the meat
on the sandwich now, with Alex's sable head tucked into his neck and
Skinner's furry warmth at his back.
Life was too capricious to hope that this is what he had to look forward
to, but he had this night. It would do for a long while. "We'll always have
Paris," he murmured and was rewarded by Walter's deep laugh. The last thing
he heard was Melissa Scully's musical giggle, a sound like glass chimes on
a spring morning.
"She's saying 'I told you so,'" came Krycek's sleepy explanation.
"Shh," said Skinner, throwing a long leg over them both.
"Really, Mulder," Scully began when he limped into the office on Monday,
"if you're going to call in sick, I'd think you could come up with a better
excuse than cramps."
"It's what you say when you don't want me to ask any questions," he
replied, collapsing into his chair.
"So, you don't want me to ask any questions." She propped a hip on Mulder's
desk, hooked a scarlet talon on his shirt collar and peered inside.
Mulder submitted, knowing it was futile to try and avoid her. "You're a
nosy woman, Scully."
"Uh huh," she replied frowning. She stared at Mulder, pursing her lips.
"What?"
"There are two different sizes of bite marks down there, Mulder."
He felt the hated blush start.
"Really, Mulder. Both of them in one weekend?" His face grew hotter, and he
wondered if a blush could make a person stroke out. "At the same time?" Now
she was shocked. "Mulder! You...slut!"
He opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't talk for the slow smile that
soon split his face. "Yeah," he managed to say finally.
"Mulder!"
end...
Strays IV
by moco
Fox Mulder talked to dead people. He used to talk to the three-legged cat
that he named after a one-armed assassin, but the cat didn't live with him
anymore. He'd become so accustomed to sharing both his feelings and his
space with another entity, that his empty apartment now felt oppressive and
malevolent. 
