Realization quickly swept over Mulder. Yes, he remembered, he was on holiday,
something he desperately needed, which time and opportunity had finally granted
him. Now, he had put thirteen hours between him and the jungle of work that
awaited him back in Washington, and he was standing in the arrival hall of the
Singapore International Airport, Terminal 1 waiting for his damn luggage.
What am I doing here? Mulder wondered, as he stood alone amidst the cluster of
families and couples fidgeting at the delay. He leaned against a pillar,
re-absorbed in his thoughts once again, the people around him registering as no
more than a passing blur. His mind obviously knew no distancing in terms of miles
and time zones, as he found himself puzzling over unsolved cases that were
sitting unattended right now on his desk.
Mulder sighed. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea taking a break after all.
Before this he'd been working 70-hour weeks for the past few months due to the
influx in complicated, near-unsolvable cases landing on his in-tray. Since there
wasn't any other attractive alternative to tempt him, he immersed himself in
work, drowning out the boredom and loneliness that sometimes taunted him when he
had too much spare time on hand. Scully had worried that this crazed work
schedule of his would eventually culminate in a nervous breakdown, and had
insistently persuaded him to take this chance and give himself a break for a few
days. Of course, she didn't know exactly how he had won this trip, and she still
thought that it was the prize from a charity raffle draw.
A manila envelope had landed itself on his table the week before, addressed to
him and bearing the company name of a gay porn magazine he was secretly
subscribed to. He had hurriedly smothered the envelope in his drawer, worrying
how many people had passed his table and found out about his guilty pleasure.
When the coast was clear, he had finally opened the letter, and the contents
congratulated one Fox Mulder for having been the winner of the 'Valued Subscriber
of the Year' lucky draw, the prize being a 5-day trip to the exotic island of
Singapore, jewel of the Pacific, all expenses paid. He didn't recall submitting
his name for any contest and had been duly suspicious of it being a hoax to make
him renew his subscription, until the economy-class air tickets arrived promptly
on his desk four days ago. Under Scully's urgings, he finally decided that it was
foolish to let a free holiday go to waste, and so here he was, on the sunny isle
of Singapore, even though his mind was still back in his office at the FBI.
His small suitcase finally trundled around the bend on the slow-moving belt, and
Mulder lifted it off the ramp with a heave. He swiftly headed towards the
immigration check exit, where he was allowed through after a cursory inspection
of his passport. Once out of the arrival hall, he noticed someone holding a
placard bearing his name, presumably the hotel valet, and began walking towards
him.
The young man was Chinese, and Mulder saw a silver badge pinned on his uniform
with the insignia of the Westin Stamford, the hotel holding his reservations. He
flashed a brief smile at him as he approached.
The man looked at him hesitantly. "Mr. Fox Mulder?" Mulder nodded in
acknowledgement.
"This way, please," the man said pleasantly, and offered to take his suitcase.
Mulder declined, and followed him to a white Mercedes waiting just outside the
airport.
Resting in the leather back-seat, Mulder absently looked out of the window at the
passing landscape, the colorful flowers lining the shoulder of the expressway
painting a blurred palette across the window as the car sped along. Greenery
bloomed all around, breathing an air of freshness into the sweltering summer
afternoon, the verdant fauna adding a natural touch to the scenery amidst the
mushrooming concrete jungle visible in a distance.
The expressway snaked along the east coast of the island, and Mulder turned his
gaze toward the ocean. The restless sea shimmered under the unrelenting sun,
listlessly licking at the endless stretch of sandy beach that should encircle the
island, but due to urbanization, only escaped unscathed in the eastern and
western coasts.
Jet-lag and fatigue slowly accumulated in Mulder's eyelids as they grew heavy,
and the ride from the airport to the city soon lulled him to sleep. He didn't
know how long he had dozed off for, but when his eyelids fluttered open, his
watch told him that it was almost 4:30 in the morning. He groggily added 13 hours
to that, which was re-affirmed by the glare of the defiant sun as it began its
descent toward the western horizon, where a mass of skyscrapers grew skyward in
stark contrast, clearly demarcating the central business district of this small
country.
The car took an exit away from the intimidating aggregate of buildings looming in
the distance, bringing them down a narrow two-lane road sheltered by rows of
trees which shielded them from the setting sun. The car proceeded deeper into the
grove, until the concrete road gave way to a gravel path just wide enough for
vehicles to pass.
Mulder's intuitive instincts sparked to life, and he sensed something was amiss.
Why was the Westin Stamford located in such a secluded area, so far away from the
hub of the city where all the other skyscrapers had flocked? Digging in his
suitcase, he found the confirmation letter for his booking at the hotel, and the
letterhead told him that the Westin Stamford was on North Bridge Road.
He cleared his throat. "Uh, excuse me. Does this path lead to North Bridge Road?
Because that's where I'm supposed to go, I'm not sure if the instructions were
mixed up or something like that."
The driver turned and regarded him with a bewildered look. "North Bridge Road?
No, I'm supposed to take you to Seletar Reservoir." His eyes returned to the
road, turning right off the gravel path. "In fact, here we are already." He
picked up a crumpled sheet of paper on the dashboard, checking it. "You're Mr.
Mulder, right? I'm supposed to take Mr. Fox Mulder from the airport to Seletar
Reservoir."
"Aren't you from the Westin Stamford?" Mulder demanded, now certain that
something was wrong.
The man chortled. "Westin Stamford? I wish! No such luck though. I work as a
chauffeur for a lousy car rental." He cleared his throat, and glanced nervously
at the clock. "Look, sir, if you're Mr. Fox Mulder, then this is the right place.
Maybe it's a little surprise from one of your friends, to welcome you to
Singapore. But right now I'm late for another appointment to send some tourists
back to the airport"—the man rolled his eyes—"so I can't stay here to wait
with you." He offered Mulder a name card. "If this isn't the right place, give me
a call later and I'll come fetch you again, okay?"
Before Mulder could respond, the car door on his right suddenly swung open,
giving both of them a start. Mulder virtually leapt backward in his seat, and he
did a double-take when he saw who had interrupted them.
Alex Krycek.
Mulder's mouth fell open in shock, rendering him speechless for a moment.
Thousands of miles away from home, the same person he couldn't completely tear
his mind away from was now standing in front of him, in the flesh. In the hot,
sweaty flesh.
"Krycek?" Mulder finally blurted out, in utter disbelief.
Krycek returned his gaping expression with a brash smile. "Great to see you
again, Mulder."
Mulder remained frozen where he sat, his left hand gripping the headrest of the
front-passenger seat. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he managed, his voice
still choked.
The flustered young man cut in when Krycek didn't respond. "Uh, Mister, since
your friend is here to meet you, I really have to get going now..." He was
clearly oblivious to the tone of animosity in Mulder's voice as he frantically
glanced at his watch for the hundredth time.
"He's not my friend." Mulder stared hard at Krycek, understanding that he was
required to vacate the car but extremely unwilling to do so. Krycek stepped away
from the door, beckoning Mulder with a casual wave of the hand, a knowing smile
playing on the edges of his mouth. Almost reluctantly, Mulder shifted towards the
open door, dragging his suitcase along, and got out of the car. He muttered a
word of thanks to the long-suffering driver, who was hurriedly backing the car
away even before Mulder slammed the door closed.
As the car sped away on the uneven gravel track, leaving a cloud of dust in its
wake, Mulder turned his face away from Krycek. He looked out across the calm,
aquatic blue waters of the reservoir, lapping gently at the grassy banks
surrounding it, and for the last time he asked himself what the hell he was
doing here, in the middle of nowhere on a foreign island, alone with Alex Krycek.
Without looking at Krycek, Mulder spoke, his thinly controlled voice edged with
antagonism. "So, are you gonna kill me here, in this god-forsaken place, and dump
my body into this river where it'll be eaten by piranhas?"
Krycek laughed, his tone almost scornful. "Come on, Mulder. Firstly, there are no
piranhas in Singapore, I believe they're restricted to the Amazonian rivers
despite the similar climate here. Secondly, this isn't a river, it's a reservoir,
where a million people living around this area get their freshwater supply, so I
think dumping a body here isn't exactly a good idea in terms of obscurity.
Besides, Singapore is a whole lot more civilized than you think, you can't just
kill someone and expect to get away with it so easily."
"Then what do you want?" Mulder's voice was hollow, emotionless.
Krycek smiled wryly. "I just wanted to talk to you, that's all."
Mulder exploded. "You could have just called , you know damn well what my phone
number is," he snapped angrily, whirling around to face Krycek. "Not that I would
even speak to you, for that matter, but at least it's better than following me
all the way here just to talk!"
"Oh come on, Mulder, I thought you'd at least be grateful to me for giving you a
free holiday." Krycek's tone was maddeningly patronizing, and he arched an amused
eyebrow at the realization that dawned on Mulder's face. "What, did you honestly
believe you won this trip from that porn mag you thought no one else knew about?"
Mulder stared at Krycek, the iciness in his expression unable to conceal his
shock as the truth sank in. "You set this all up?"
Krycek's eyes danced with laughter, but he just offered a grin and nothing more.
"You son of a bitch!" Mulder's voice seethed with rage, and he glared menacingly
at Krycek as he spoke. "You deceive me with—with this bogus holiday, fly me
halfway around the world, give me phony reservations at the Westin Stamford
Hotel, lure me to this secluded place..."
"Those reservations aren't fake, Mulder," Krycek interrupted calmly, his
unobtrusive manner in contrast with Mulder's agitated ravings. He continued
matter-of-factly. "The Westin is actually the tallest hotel in the world, and
it'd be quite an experience for both of us to spend the night there, don't you
think?"
That was the last straw. With a violent push, Mulder sent Krycek staggering
backwards and collapsing on the grassy ground. Mulder was swiftly onto him,
snatching a handful of Krycek's shirtfront in his fist, jerking him so close that
their noses bumped. "And you think I'd actually spend a night in the same room as
you?!" Mulder shouted into Krycek's startled face, shaking him viciously,
tightening his vise-like grip on his collar. "Oh, that's rich, Alex, literally
too. Where the hell did you get so much money for the tickets and the hotel,
anyway? Who were you paid to kill this time?"
Krycek quickly recovered from the initial surprise of Mulder's sudden
aggressiveness, taking control of the situation. He smiled surreptitiously,
noticing the flush on Mulder's face and feeling the heated touch of his skin
against his own body. He loved it when Mulder was mad, the raw emotion flaring in
his eyes and the intensity between them was almost as exhilarating as the
gratifying sex that almost always followed these hostile encounters. Anger was a
powerful aphrodisiac, and Krycek secretly enjoyed their usual rough foreplay in
this manner. He said nothing in response to Mulder's accusatory questions, and
simply offered him a serene smile. He remained completely unperturbed despite
being virtually choked by Mulder, and didn't put up the least bit of resistance.
"Well?" Mulder snarled impatiently, unnerved by Krycek's silence.
Krycek shrugged nonchalantly. "You call the shots, Mulder, since you're on top."
Mulder felt his face flush with embarrassment as he realized that he had
subconsciously climbed on top of Krycek and was now straddling his waist. He
quickly got off, glaring at Krycek to hide his uneasiness. "Get up," he snapped,
turning away from the fallen body on the ground.
Krycek slowly got to his feet, gingerly brushing himself off where newly-cut
shreds of grass clung to his clothes. He still held his tongue, standing where he
was as Mulder slowly paced in front of him. The assorted sounds of nature around
them, the chirp of crickets and the chatter of birds overhead, managed to soften
the harsh silence between them. Grass rustled as Mulder made his way toward the
water's edge, looking out into the distance as dusk fell across the sky,
banishing the harsh glare of the sun, bathing the horizon in a mild sepia hue.
Mulder's eyes swept across the scenic landscape; the tranquility and peace of his
surroundings unable to calm the turbulence that raged within him. Krycek affected
him in a way he simply could not explain or counteract, no matter how hard he
tried. It was as if Alex exuded a certain aura that never failed to intoxicate
him, disarming his better judgment and surrendering him to his own unsettled
heart and his baser instincts. Mulder closed his eyes, breathing in the freshness
of the air, willing it to clear his mind and help him think straight, something
he always found impossible to do in Krycek's presence.
Krycek noticed the rigidness in Mulder's posture, the barely perceptible rise and
fall of his shoulders which betrayed the fidgeting emotions within him. Krycek
couldn't suppress his smile, having seen Mulder in such dilemma countless times
before, knowing how these deliberations always ended. Tilting his head
thoughtfully to one side, Krycek finally gave voice to their unspoken feelings.
"Come on, Mulder. You want it almost as badly as I do."
Mulder spun around, his eyes flashing. He was completely thrown by Alex's quiet
forthrightness, and he was even more surprised to see the sincere, unguarded
expression in Krycek's eyes, silently communicating his need. He felt a tightness
form in his throat, and he swallowed hard as he stared at Krycek, rooted to the
spot. He couldn't believe what Krycek had just said. What? His mouth formed the
word, but no sound emerged. He stood frozen, his arms hanging limply by his side.
Krycek watched him carefully, the intense emerald of his eyes burning through the
layers of denial and understanding Mulder's shocked silence as consent. He
finally moved, taking the initiative, and walked over to where Mulder was
standing, closing the distance between them until they were inches apart. He
stopped there, waiting for Mulder to take the next step, to meet in the middle.
He'd come this far, literally, and had presented himself in unequivocal terms for
Mulder's taking. The rest was up to him.
Once again, Mulder didn't disappoint him. Krycek's simple confession of his own
desire was all that he needed to push him over the precipice, to unleash the
passion and hunger that he had kept stifled for so long. Mulder's hands moved to
hold Krycek's face as he leaned in to claim his lips. No sooner had their lips
locked did Krycek's hands slid down to Mulder's waist, fumbling with the zipper
of his pants.
Mulder gently urged Krycek away from the waterfront, backing him up against the
trunk of the nearest tree. His mouth still devoured Krycek's, kissing him
feverishly as all the pent-up emotions burst to the surface. His own fingers were
unzipping Krycek's fly as well, slipping furtively inside the waistband of his
underwear.
Krycek smiled, laughing lightly against Mulder's mouth, as he felt a hand
stroking his rising erection, coaxing it to full hardness. He managed to pry open
the front of Mulder's shirt, tearing out several buttons in his enthusiasm, and
pushed it off his shoulders, eager to explore his unclothed body. Krycek ran his
fingers up and down Mulder's bare back, the teasing sensation drawing an
appreciative moan.
Mulder began slowly grinding himself against Krycek's body, which was securely
wedged between him and the tree. They were both in various states of undress —
Mulder's shirt was off and his pants were half-way down his thighs, while
Krycek's pants were around his ankles, his shirt unbuttoned. Mulder closed his
eyes, bracing himself against the tree trunk with his hands as he rubbed his body
against Krycek's, increasing the tempo, feeling nothing but pure gratification at
what he had been missing so badly all this while. He buried his face in Krycek's
shoulder, trailing his tongue over his exposed neck, nibbling his earlobe.
Krycek sighed, closing his eyes, allowing Mulder's body to overwhelm him, content
to stay pinned to the tree trunk as long as he could savor the exquisite
sensation that pressed itself against him. Every time he was with Mulder, all his
senses were heightened—he could smell the lingering cologne on Mulder's neck,
feel the delicious flicker of his tongue across his shoulder and the burning heat
of his crotch grinding against his, taste the faint saltiness of sweat on
Mulder's upper lip, hear his breath heavy in his own ear... and the whirring
sound of a distant car approaching.
Krycek opened his eyes and glanced around. The throb of the engine was still far
off but he sensed that it was heading their way. He nudged Mulder. "There's
someone coming," he whispered in his ear, without much resolve in his voice.
Except for an unintelligible murmur, Mulder completely ignored him, concentrating
his attention on kissing his way down Krycek's chest and trying to slide his
underwear down his legs at the same time.
The crunching of gravel under the passing car grew nearer, and Krycek began to
pay it more attention. "Mulder," he hissed again, more urgently this time.
"There's a car coming our way...uhh, yeah, that feels good... no, wait, we
can't... can't do it here, uhhh... there's someone coming, and it's, it's
punishable by law... if you're caught naked or fucking in public... uhhh,
Mulder..." Krycek broke off in mid-sentence, unable to continue as he felt the
stabbing heat of Mulder's mouth closing over his cock. His words dissolved into
an incoherent slur as he groaned, his fingers gripping the rough bark of the tree
behind him.
Mulder grinned inwardly, his mouth working Krycek's cock skillfully, sucking him
with alternately delicate and hard strokes. There was no better way to silence
him, Mulder thought. He had to steady Krycek's hips with his hands as the other
man arched and writhed almost uncontrollably. Mulder had thrown caution to the
wind the minute he moved forward and kissed Krycek, allowing his reckless,
unrestrained nature to take over. What did it matter who saw them fucking,
anyway?
Paradoxically, Krycek was the one who remained apprehensive. He was certain that
someone would appear around the bend any minute from now, and they were backed up
against quite a conspicuously-located tree, engaging in something that was
definitely classified under 'indecent conduct in a public place'. This was not a
good idea...
With an enormous amount of effort, he wriggled out of Mulder's grip and pulled
away. Mulder's head looked up at him in undisguised surprise. Hurriedly pulling
his pants up and snatching their clothes, Krycek quickly tugged Mulder to his
feet and led him behind some bushes. "We can't get caught fucking in the open!"
he whispered fiercely. "We'll get into serious deep shit, remember we're in a
foreign country now. Things could get very complicated."
"What's the matter with you, Alex?" Mulder complained, stumbling along as he
struggled to pull up his pants, irritated that their lovemaking had been
disrupted. "There's no one coming!"
Krycek nodded his head vigorously. "There is someone coming." He pushed
Mulder's curious head out of view, and a few moments later a small school bus
packed with kids appeared at the clearing and drove right by them, heading in the
direction of the expressway. Krycek turned to Mulder with a raised eyebrow,
giving him his best 'I-told-you-so' look. They both stayed low, blocked by the
bushes, until the car had passed out of sight.
"See? You want a bunch of kids to watch us fucking? We'll end up in jail for
that." Krycek cast Mulder another superior look.
Mulder reluctantly conceded. "Fine, you were right." He grinned impishly at
Krycek. "But it'd sure be a helluva field trip for them if they did, huh?"
Krycek laughed, and took Mulder by the hand, pulling him away from the bushes. A
small boat was sitting on the grassy banks by the water side, and Krycek led
Mulder towards it. "Come on, let's fuck in the boat, at least we'll have some
privacy." He moved to the bow of the little boat and began pushing it towards the
water. It wasn't too heavy, and with a final heave it reached the edge of the
bank, sliding into the water with a soft gurgle, sending ripples all the around.
Mulder looked at Krycek. "You want to fuck in the middle of the river?" he asked
incredulously.
"It's a reservoir, Mulder." Krycek had an adventurous gleam in his eyes, silently
daring Mulder to take up the challenge. "And besides, no one can get to us if
we're out in a boat."
"How if it capsizes?"
"You can swim, can't you, Mulder?"
Mulder sighed, and walked towards the unsteady little boat as it bobbed in the
water. Being here with Krycek was about as crazy a thing as he could possibly do,
anyway. Compared with that, fucking in the middle of a reservoir in a tiny little
boat seemed like nothing out of the ordinary.
Krycek had already settled in, and he offered Mulder a hand. It was actually a
small fishing boat, called a sampan, and it was as simple a boat as one could
imagine—about six feet in length, a little less than three feet wide,
banana-shaped with absolutely nothing inside. There was no engine to power the
boat, only wooden oars. No planks laid across to fashion as benches, just an
empty space within the boat, which perfectly suited their excursion.
The boat swayed precariously side to side as Mulder hesitantly stepped in, left
foot before right. The boat was made for solitary fishermen heading out to ply
their trade alone, and very conveniently, there wasn't enough room for any other
comfortable position for them except one on top of the other. Krycek graciously
slid his body downward, until he was lying in a horizontal position. Mulder
carefully maneuvered himself and lowered his body onto Krycek's. To his surprise,
it wasn't all that uncomfortable or awkward, and the next natural thing to do was
to reclaim Krycek's lips with his own.
Ingenuity made up for what lacked in space, and they both managed to get their
clothes off without capsizing the little vessel. Mulder realized that he would
have to fuck Krycek in the missionary position, something they had rarely, if
ever, tried before, having always favored bare-back fucking. But somehow the idea
excited him—what better place to try out a different position than in these
already radically different circumstances?
"Lube's in my trouser pocket," Krycek called, as Mulder rummaged around the heap
of clothes stuffed at the back corner of the little boat. The boat wobbled
dangerously as Mulder shifted his weight, and he quickly gripped the sides to
steady it. Krycek laughed, seemingly unconcerned about whether the whole boat
tipped over or not, and neither of them noticed as the boat slowly drifted away
from the shore and toward the middle of the reservoir.
Mulder found the lube and spread a generous amount over his cock. He carefully
adjusted himself into position. Lifting Krycek's legs into the air, he spreading
them apart, resting the younger man's calves on his own shoulders. His hands were
still smeared with lube, and Mulder slid first one finger, then another into
Krycek's ass, loosening the muscle, lubricating the inner surfaces. Krycek sighed
as he felt Mulder's fingers inside him, and his eyes fell closed as he prepared
for what was to come, a smile playing on his lips.
Mulder lifted Krycek's hips slightly to provide better leverage, and taking a
deep breath, slowly pushed himself in. The slicked opening readily dilated,
smoothly allowing him into Krycek's body, and Mulder felt the reins of control
slipping from him as pure unbridled passion took over. Sheathing himself fully in
the sweet heat, Mulder groaned loudly as the sensation twisted through every
nerve of his body. Firmly, yet not hurtfully, Mulder repeatedly thrust into the
body before him, savoring the pleasure rushing through his veins, feeling the
liberation that he had waited for so many lonely nights.
Krycek bit his lip as he felt the alternate thrust and withdrawal from his body,
arching his back upwards to plunge Mulder's cock as far as it could possibly go.
He had waited so long to feel this, the pleasure of Mulder's cock inside him,
fucking him deeply. All he'd done to get here, everything he'd planned, it was
more than worth it.
The rhythm of their fucking increased, spiraling uncontrollably toward the
inevitable climax. Mulder felt the familiar tension building within him, tearing
itself from the heart of his soul, finally breaking to the surface in an
explosion deep inside Krycek's body. He heard himself cry out Alex's name,
repeating it over and over again in breathless gasps as the waves of orgasm
washed over him, taking away everything but the sensation of his cock still
buried up Krycek's ass.
Almost at the same instant as Mulder, Krycek let himself go, and came in short,
frenzied spurts in quick succession, slicking both their bodies with white
viscous fluid. He squeezed his eyes shut, moaning, his lips forming Mulder's
name, seeing nothing else but Mulder's face behind his closed eyelids. He felt
the searing heat within the depths of his body as Mulder poured himself out, a
silent confession of everything that Krycek needed to hear.
Mulder slumped forward, resting his weight on top of Krycek's quivering body,
feeling the last shudders of pleasure slowly ebb away. Krycek's breathing echoed
in his ears, and Mulder pressed his lips against his moist chest, planting a
silent kiss.
Krycek felt the unobtrusive kiss, and smiled pensively as he looked upward at the
limitless expanse of twilight sky above him, his body thoroughly sated. It was a
marvel, how in a tiny island jam-packed with five million people in a thriving
concrete forest, there still existed a place where nature flourished and the sky
stretched endlessly before your eyes, without any obstructions in sight. And
ironically, it was places like this, far from the crowd with not a soul in sight,
that you could truly lose yourself in.
Krycek tilted his head back, feeling Mulder's lips nuzzle against his neck. This
moment was so perfect, so golden, that he wished that it would stay like this,
frozen in time forever. But perhaps that's what memories are for, where such
moments as this live on to eternity inside the mind when reality wouldn't permit
them to linger on.
Mulder slid slightly off Krycek's body, permitting him to angle himself to a
upright position. They both looked around, and found themselves afloat in the
middle of the reservoir, the grassy bank they had pushed off from almost thirty
feet away. Krycek smiled, wondering how vigorous and energetic their fucking was,
that it could propel the boat so far from where they started. Just then, as he
glanced back toward the shore, something else also occurred to him, which made
his smile broaden even more.
"Uh, Mulder..." he called quietly.
Mulder turned to look at him, his own astonishment at their present location in
the reservoir also showing in his eyes. "What is it?"
"I think we forgot to bring the oars."
The Singapore Swing
by Rhysenn
Patience had never been his virtue, and Mulder grew restless as he waited for his
illusive luggage to appear on the conveyor belt at baggage claim. He glanced at
his wristwatch, which informed him that it was...half past three in the morning?
Mulder quickly looked up, and caught sight of the fluorescent green digits of a
nearby wall-clock: 4:30 PM.
