"Ratboy couldn't decide which gun to bring."
"Feldman couldn't decide what to wear."
Fox Mulder chuckled softly. One of those statements had to be true. Maybe
both were. After all, this was Ellen Feldman and Alex Krycek. The rules of
common sense didn't exactly apply where these two were concerned. "The
reason I called you both here is because I have a fantasy."
"Say WHAT?!"
"You heard me," Mulder said, patiently.
Alex nodded cautiously. "I heard you, but I didn't believe you."
"This better not involve a dog collar," Feldman muttered.
Alex seconded that but he was still curious. What kind of kinky fantasies
did somebody like Mulder have? "What do you want us to do?"
The federal agent grinned lasciviously. "I want you to role play and I want
to watch."
"Role play?"
"You get to pick the roles, Ratboy, but I'd better be excited by your
performance. Think you can handle that?"
"First of all, my name is Alex and second, yes, you'd better believe we can
handle it, can't we, kitten?"
"Let me get this straight. He wants us to perform for him?" Feldman
wrinkled her nose. "Like we're acting in one of those cheesy porno movies he
watches? That's gross. And if he wants to play that god-awful music—"
"How about a nice pair of shoes," Mulder offered. "There's a pair of
stiletto pumps in the bedroom for you."
Alex had to press his lips together to keep from smirking as Feldman waged an
inner battle of ethics. Shoes. Sex while Mulder watched. Shoes. Sex.
Shoes.
"They'd better not pinch."
This was going to be good.
This was going to be good. Mulder could feel it. He could hear bits and
pieces of the hushed conversation in the bedroom while the Feldrats concocted
some sort of plan. Finally the door opened and Ratboy, clad in one of
Mulder's suits, beckoned him inside.
One of Mulder's kitchen chairs was positioned off to the side, affording him
a good view of whatever action was going to take place. Mulder settled into
it and noticed Feldman lurking in the corner, wearing nothing but Ratboy's
leather jacket and shoulder holster.
Nice.
Very, very nice.
Ratboy dimmed the light and cleared his throat.
"Mul-derrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."
Mulder's head snapped in Feldman's direction. The little lawyer imitated
Ratboy's throaty purr perfectly. She was even moving just like Ratboy, with
an almost catlike prowl. That's when realization sank in. If she was
Ratboy, then Ratboy was supposed to be —
"Krycek." Ratboy practically snarled his own name as he grabbed Feldman by
the shoulders. "I should have known you were behind this."
"Mulder," Feldman purred again. "You watch too many spy movies. I'm not
behind anything. Yet."
Krycek's eyes narrowed and he shoved Feldman against the wall. "Shut up,
Krycek. You're a murderer and a liar—"
"-and you want me. Bad."
It wasn't his imagination. Feldman had a tube of lube in the shoulder
holster she was wearing under the leather jacket. Not that she needed it.
Mulder could smell her from halfway across the room. Yeah, this was
definitely better than one of his videos.
Krycek kissed Feldman roughly. "Yeah, Krycek, and I'm going to have you and
then I'm going to send your ass to jail."
"Once you've had my ass, Mulder, jail's the last place you're going to want
to send it." Feldman's voice was huskier than Mulder ever remembered hearing
it. And judging by the way they were going at it, Mulder was willing to bet
these two played this game before.
"Is that a fact, Ratboy?" Krycek spun Feldman around and snapped Mulder's
handcuffs around her wrists.
"Alex. My name is Alex. And I had no idea you were this kinky, Fox."
"Where's the tape, Krycek," Krycek snarled, as he slipped out of the suit
jacket and loosened the tie.
"What tape?"
"Don't lie to me. Where is it?!" The belt came off next.
Mulder leaned forward in his chair.
Ellen glanced over her shoulder at their audience. If Mulder's mouth were
open any wider, she'd be able to see his tonsils. And Ratboy was going to
pay for handcuffing her. He never said anything about handcuffs. Mulder
was going to pay, too. Those pumps were the wrong size.
Her Ratboy's voice snapped her back to her current predicament. "For the
last time, Krycek, where's the tape?"
"You're the detective, Mulder. Find it."
"Just remember, Ratboy, you asked for it."
The words had barely registered by the time she realized her Ratboy had
swiped the lube from the shoulder holster. "Give me it to me good, Mulder."
He bent her over and then, apparently, changed his mind and carried her to
the bed. His green eyes sparkled wickedly as he whispered, "You're a little
too short for that, kitten."
She could feel her cheeks burning as her Ratboy slipped a lubricated finger
inside her. Another quick glance at Mulder and Ellen suppressed a giggle as
she watched Mulder absently rubbing his crotch while he watched.
This was going to be good.
"God, that was good."
"I thought you didn't believe in God," Feldman complained. "And would
somebody please take these handcuffs off?"
Mulder sighed. "Shhhhh."
"I thought all you wanted to do was watch," Krycek chuckled. "Not that I'm
complaining, Skinner."
"Better Skinner than Scully," Feldman sniffed. "That would've killed the
mood faster than an E.B.E."
"Feldman!"
"Well, it's true."
Krycek grinned evilly. "It might be fun, kitten. You could be Scully and I
could be... uh... never mind."
"Keep going, Ratboy, that sounds interesting and the night is still young,"
Mulder urged. "Besides, my VCR is broken."
"That's why we're here?!" Feldman's voice rose incredulously.
"Of course, kitten," Krycek chuckled. "Besides, who do you think broke the
VCR in the first place?"
The End?
Fantasy II
by Ms Brooklyn
"You're late."
