Krycek mouthed the expletive as he flattened himself back against the wall.
He scrunched his eyes closed in exasperation, head tipping backwards. The
urge to rap his head against the brickwork was almost overpowering, but past
experience had proved that the only person it hurt was himself. He cursed
anew. This was becoming a far too familiar scene these days. He sneaked
another quick look around the corner just to confirm what he already knew— two men, with their backs to him, beating on a third tied to a chair.
"Shit!" He cursed under his breath. "Why me?"
His entreaty fell on deaf ears. The sound of flesh hitting flesh and another
soft groan of pain floated around the corner giving Krycek no option but to
consider a change in his plans. He pulled the Glock out from where it had
been tucked into the back of his jeans, took a few deep steadying breaths
and then swung round the corner.
"Hey, there!"
The two men spun on their feet to face him, weapons sliding quickly into
hands. Two shots from the Glock echoed around the small warehouse before
those weapons could align on him. The first man spun back the way he came as
the bullet took him high on the left shoulder; the other jerked as the
bullet smashed through his chest sending blood spraying. Another shot
shattered the back of the first man's skull, blood and gore splattering
everywhere. The third man, manacled securely to a wooden chair, could only
stare in shock as his captors met a grisly end.
Krycek approached slowly; shaking his head at the seated man like a parent
admonishing a small child. Having kicked the guns out of reach first, he
studied the chest-wounded man, nudging him with his foot to ensure he was
dead rather than just playing dead. Once convinced he turned his full
attention to the battered and blood splattered man who was cuffed and tied
to the chair. His eyes raked across the familiar features, noting the
discoloration forming along one cheek and evidence of his own blood that
trickled from the split in that luscious bottom lip.
"Mulder, Mulder, Mulder. I bet those are your own handcuffs."
"Fuck you, Krycek."
"Pardon?" The green eyes widened and glittered in mock offence. "Not on the
first date."
He smiled gleefully as a look of thunder crossed the damaged face but
anything was better than the glassy-eyed shock. Anyway, it was so nice to
have the tables turned and such a pleasurable change to meet Mulder with
words instead of fists. That thought brought a frown to his face, deepening
the line across the bridge of his nose.
"You know, Mulder. I kinda like this." He waved the hand still holding the
Glock, indicating the shackled condition of his ex-partner. "You and me
doing something other than beating the crap outta each other the moment we
meet."
"You still enjoying those one handed beatings..."
Krycek smiled tightly. "Those goons must have worked you over pretty good if
that's the best line you can come up with."
"Fuck you, Krycek."
"You're repeating yourself, Mulder." He paused as an evil thought flitted
through his mind. A grin split his face; an impish glint shining in the
sea-green eyes. "Of course, technically speaking, this is our second
date... and I don't recall you being too put out when I kissed you on our
first..."
Mulder could not prevent the blush that coloured his cheeks as he remembered
the way those perfect lips had felt against his skin; warm, soft and moist.
Many a fantasy had been fuelled by that kiss; many a night spent wondering
how those lips would feel wrapped around his cock. Embarrassment turned to
anger and he pulled violently at the handcuffs, wincing as they chaffed his
wrists. He stopped when Krycek backed off a few feet, hand raised
defensively.
"If you promise not to hit me then I'll unlock you."
The words 'Fuck you' formed in his mind once more but common sense prevailed
before they could tumble from his lips. If he pissed Krycek off then the man
might just up and leave him to the mercy of whoever came through that door
next. More than likely it would be more of Cancer Man's goons... in which
case he was a dead man. Anyway, his word meant nothing given to a worthless
piece of shit like Krycek so...
"You have my word."
Alex Krycek smiled again at the too-smooth response and Mulder couldn't help
but be mesmerised by the way it lit up the angelic features.
"Nice try, Mulder."
Mulder fumed.
"Alright. I promise on Scully's grave that I will not hit you if you get me
free of these."
Krycek cocked his head to the side as if considering the promise. He sighed
deeply, realising that this was the best he would ever get. Anyway, he had
just killed two men to save Mulder's ass so leaving him here was not an
option. The flick-knife blade gleamed suddenly in the low lighting of the
warehouse. Krycek paused for a moment, enjoying the momentary discomfort on
Mulder's face and then he bent down to cut through the thin rope securing
the man's ankles to the chair legs. Before Mulder could rise Krycek reached
down and started patting the pockets of the agent's suit until he found the
keys to the handcuffs. Moments later, Fox Mulder was on his feet trying to
ease the kinks out of his stiffened muscles. He accepted the handkerchief
offered to him and wiped, ineffectively, at the splatters of blood on his
face.
"Thanks."
It was begrudgingly given but Krycek was surprised to receive any
admission of gratitude. He nodded his head in acceptance and then glanced at
the door.
"You'd better get out of here before someone..."
"What are you doing here?"
Mulder took up an aggressive stance that seemed a little ludicrous under the
circumstances. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Alex Krycek turned away.
"Get outta here, Mulder, while you still can."
The tone was soft... implacable and Mulder knew there was little point
arguing yet still he remained. His eyes darted to the bodies lying at his
feet. He was an FBI Agent, for chrissakes, yet he could not feel it within
him to berate his ex-partner for the violence. Those men had made it quite
clear what they intended to do to him had Krycek not arrived to spoil their
plans, and he had no doubt that they had meant it. He turned on unsteady
legs and weaved towards the door, pausing on the threshold to look back at
the dark-clad figure; wondering, as he did every time, whether this would be
the last time he gazed upon the delicious form of his former partner. In
that brief moment he committed the strong, athletic frame to memory and then
he turned away.
His car was parked a few blocks away and he reached it on ever more shaky
legs, feeling grateful when he fell into the driver's seat. He shoved the
key into the ignition and turned it. Nothing. Not even a whirr. He tried
again. He looked up through the windscreen in disgust and found the reason
for his car's sudden death. Three figures were standing in the centre of the
street, outlined by the street lights. One of them held an object swaying on
the end of a wire and Mulder had a good bet that this object had once been
part of his car engine. The sound of another car approaching rapidly drew
his attention. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the three men start
running towards him, weapons drawn. The car screeched to a halt beside him,
the door was flung open and inside he could clearly make out the features of
Alexei Krycek.
"Get in."
Mulder threw open his own door and leapt into the other car. The men rolled
aside as Krycek accelerated the car past them, shooting wildly at the
receding tail-lights. The car screeched around the corner, almost up on two
wheels and Mulder could only admire the skill it must take to drive that
well with only one hand and a prosthesis.
Twenty minutes passed before Krycek deemed it safe to pull up. In all that
time neither man had spoken but the dark-haired ex-Consortium agent glanced
sideways at the FBI agent.
"Saving your ass is becoming quite a habit."
Mulder looked back, remembering the last time they were seated side-by-side.
He had punched Alex in the face. Perhaps it was the result of the beating he
had taken; perhaps it was tiredness or maybe it was merely relief that he
was still alive but, for once, Mulder felt no inclination to hit Alex. He
glanced around and realised, suddenly, that Alex had taken him home. They
were parked only a short distance from his tenement building. A soft flush
crept up his face as he listened to the quiet sound of the engine ticking
over. He felt like a teenager returning home from the Prom; the handsome
young man in the driver's seat waiting for a sign of how the rest of the
evening was to continue. Would there be a perfunctory wave goodbye... or
would there be a kiss; chaste or passionate? Would he be invited in for
coffee?
Suddenly it became very clear to Mulder that he did not want Alex to leave.
His voice was low and soft, the monotone non-threatening.
"D'you wanna come in?" Krycek stared at him, one dark eyebrow raised
questioningly. "It's way past time we talked."
A gentle snort was his only response and Mulder opened the door, strangely
disappointed. A thought occurred to him and he leant back down.
"I still have half a bottle of vodka in my refrigerator... the one you..."
Even in the low street light Mulder could see remembrance flit across those
expressive eyes. They had been on a case and Mulder had suggested going back
to his apartment and ordering in pizza while they discussed the next step.
On the way they had stopped by a 7-11 and picked up a six-pack and the
vodka. It was the last time Krycek had been in Apartment 42 under
invitation.
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and with a flick of his wrist
Krycek killed the engine and climbed out.
Krycek paused on the threshold of the lounge as Mulder stripped off his
coat, crumpled jacket and tie; balling the items together before throwing
them into a laundry basket. Without turning back, he walked into the small
kitchen and retrieved the bottle and two glasses. He placed them on the
coffee table, unscrewed the cap and poured two generous servings. Picking up
one glass he held it out to the man still standing in the half-shadows by
the door. After a moment's deliberation, Krycek came forward and took the
glass from the outstretched hand. He dropped into the seat opposite Mulder
and raised the glass in salute to his host before downing the contents in
one, eyes closing momentarily to savour the burning sensation as the alcohol
slipped down his throat into his empty stomach sending a familiar warmth
radiating outwards. Mulder copied him and then refilled both glasses.
"I'm gonna get cleaned up."
Krycek watched the older man heave his battered body out of the armchair and
walk stiffly towards the bathroom. The sound of water running echoed around
the quiet room followed by a small amount of splashing. Alex leaned back and
let his head drop back against the couch, bringing the glass up to his lips
occasionally for another sip of the cold liquid. He let his mind drift to
other times... other places. A few minutes later the sound of shoeless feet
upon the carpet brought his attention back to the present. Mulder rubbed his
wet hair with a towel as he lowered himself into the seat opposite. He
dropped the towel to the floor and picked up his glass. They sipped slowly
until Mulder decided to break the silence.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you keep saving my ass?"
For me!
The reply that jumped into his brain brought a smile to his face but Krycek
was not going to let that thought escape. He suddenly realised that Mulder
was still waiting for an answer but nothing came to mind. The strange look
that crossed Mulder's face set his heart racing.
I shouldn't have come here.
He cursed himself for a fool. How could he be so stupid to believe he could
walk into this apartment and have Mulder fall into his arms like they were
characters in some tacky romance novel. The fantasies that had kept him
going through the hard times were just that... fantasy. None of the
scenarios he had put together in his head to keep him sane when his world
seemed to be crashing around his ears were ever going to be acted upon and
sitting here, drinking vodka as if they were best buddies, was never going
to change that fact. He could not prevent the slight tremor that rippled
through him... body and soul... as he gazed at what he wanted with all his
heart but could never have. His eyes dropped to the glass in his hand. The
best thing he could do right now was drink up and go... and never look back.
Mulder frowned and then the pieces slotted together. His eyes widened, the
pupils dilating as he read the poorly concealed desire in the face opposite
before the eyes dropped away. The initial shock passed quickly as he
realised this was something he had always suspected from those first days
when Krycek would follow him around like a lovesick puppy. Over the years he
had persuaded himself that it had all been an act... just another lie among
many, but now he was not so sure. Other images swept into his mind; the way
Alex would just stand there accepting the fists that rained down upon him
without putting up more than a token resistance; the way he had followed him
under the wire in Tunguska despite knowing the consequences. He frowned.
After Jeffrey Spender had handed back the X-Files Mulder had followed him
from Skinner's office. He had caught Spender's arm and been strangely
relieved when the man made no attempt to shrug him off. They had spoken for
just a few minutes... about Alex Krycek and the part he had played in saving
Spender's life and dignity. A promise to meet later had been broken. Jeff
Spender disappeared before he could ask any more questions about the man
purporting to be the junior agent's father, so Mulder had been left
wondering. Had Alex been the one to bring back the Russian vaccine that he
had used to save Scully's life? Was Alex the owner of the husky voice that
had sent members of a nearby Antarctic Research station to the rescue after
the Colonist ship had left them stranded on the ice? Had Alex been the one
to set up the El Rico massacre, destroying practically all of the traitorous
Consortium leaders in one fell swoop? Thinking back through the years he
wondered something else... how many more of those 'anonymous' tip-offs had
come from the same source... from Alex. How many other times had Alex
'Ratboy' Krycek put his life on the line for him?
As disturbing as these thoughts were, there was one thing he was certain
of... his own desire for Alexei Krycek. Suddenly, he realised that he had
long ago forgiven Alex for the death of his father but had clung onto that
'hatred' to protect himself from what he really felt for the other. He
sneered. His 'father'. A man whom events had proved was more of a monster
than many of the strange creatures he had come across during his time on the
X-Files. Not just for his part in setting up the Colonist experiments, but
for allowing his own daughter to be taken... and for pushing the whole blame
onto the small shoulders of a innocent child... his son.
Knowledge is power.
Mulder wondered why a quote from Hobbes would spring into his head then he
smiled, understanding what his subconscious was trying to tell him. Yes.
Knowledge was power and he had been given both when he recognised the
fleeting emotion that crossed the unguarded face. All he had to do now was
decide what he wanted to do with what he had learnt. The smile deepened. He
knew what he wanted... what he had always wanted. All he had to do now was
reach out and take it.
"So... you don't put out on the first date. What about the second?"
Krycek snorted into his drink, choking on the fiery liquid and coughing as
the vodka went down the wrong way. Mulder was on his feet and by Alex's side
within seconds, slapping the man on the back. He waited until Alex had
regained control of his breathing, mesmerised by the dew shaped tears that
rolled down the soft cheeks. With sturdy fingers he took away the glass then
reached out to capture one fat droplet, taking it to his mouth and tasting
it with the tip of his tongue. He moved forward and gently licked at another
droplet, savouring the slight saltiness that tingled against his taste buds.
A bolder lick followed one trail of tears along the side of the pert nose.
He pulled back to gaze into eyes widened in shock, watching the play of
emotion across the expressive face range from disbelief, to realisation...
to joy intermingled with lust. A hand reached out to caress his cheek,
fingers trailing across his cheekbone and then down to scrape along his
bottom lip. He hissed as the finger caught on the split.
Krycek stared at the deep red droplet that welled in the cut, spilling over
the edge and trickling down Mulder's chin. He leaned forward and licked at
it, the ferric tang against his tongue sending a pulse of energy dancing
through his body. He shifted against the sudden constriction of his jeans,
desperately wanting to free his engorged flesh from its denim prison but
still unsure of Mulder's intentions. The hand that reached down to stroke
the bulge in his jeans left no further doubt and Krycek pushed himself into
that hand, wantonly demanding a firmer touch. Their mouths met hungrily,
lips crushing together, tongues duelling for supremacy as saliva and blood
intermingled. Krycek's fist closed around the short hair at Mulder's nape
and he pulled them apart. They stared at each other, eyes feral with lust,
breath harsh and uneven.
"Not here."
Confusion filled the blue/gold eyes momentarily as he wondered whether
Krycek meant 'not on the couch' or 'not in this apartment'. If it were the
former then he had no objection to leading Alex to his bed. If it were the
latter then Alex was going to be sorely disappointed for he had no intention
of taking a long drive just to appease Krycek's paranoia.
"Bed?"
A small nod and a slight smile answered his question. Mulder pushed himself
onto his feet and reached down to pull Krycek up. Without releasing his grip
on the hand, he led Alex along the short corridor and into the bedroom. He
turned, flicked on the dimmer switch to the lowest setting and kicked the
door shut behind them. With shaking fingers he began to unbutton the dress
shirt, all the while watching the reaction of his still fully-clad
ex-partner. Mulder pulled the shirt from his pants and let it hang loose. As
he reached forward to push the heavy leather jacket from Krycek's broad
shoulders he felt the light touch of fingers stroking one exposed nipple. He
sighed, eyes closing as the sensation sent a ripple of energy straight down
into his groin. The fingers moved away as gravity took the jacket to the
floor and Mulder took advantage of the opportunity to pull the dark T-shirt
from the jeans, pushing up the material as his hands slid across warm, soft
flesh. He leant forward and latched onto one small brown nub, gently nipping
the soft flesh until it hardened to a peak while his fingers pinched and
rubbed the other. Krycek's hand cupped the back of his head, holding him
against the almost hairless chest. The soft groan of pleasure brought
Mulder's eyes up to long column of exposed throat. He released the nipple
and nibbled a path upwards until he could suck on the pale flesh at the
juncture of neck and shoulder. Krycek groaned anew, the vibration
reverberating through Mulder. He pulled back to survey the angry red mark.
Mine!
With quick movements he removed his shirt, letting it pool to the floor in
an untidy heap before pulling the T-shirt off Krycek. Shoes were kicked off,
pants unzipped and discarded until they were both standing naked beside the
large bed.
Craze-filled lust dissipated at the self-conscious expression on his
soon-to-be-lover's face. Mulder reached out and stroked across the join of
flesh and plastic, fascinated by the different textures beneath his
sensitive finger tips. He looked up into troubled eyes.
"It's okay, Alex." He smiled as the wariness was replaced with relief. "Do
you want to keep it on?"
A small shake and an almost audible swallow were his reply.
"No. It's not... I still can't accept it as part of me."
Mulder nodded his head and reached out with nimble fingers to release the
straps holding the prosthesis. Gently, he removed the false arm and placed
it on the top of the bureau.
"Now. Where were we? Oh yes."
Mulder pulled the younger man back into his arms, his mouth latching onto
the soft, vulnerable flesh leaving another mark of possession on the exposed
throat while his hands traced a path down Krycek's back until they could cup
the firmly muscled asscheeks. He rotated his hips, rubbing his engorged cock
against his lover's, luxuriating in the friction as precome smeared and
mixed. With deft movements he manoeuvred Alex to the bed and then pushed him
down, toppling with him until he had the younger man trapped beneath his
weight. Mulder's lips travelled across the beautiful face, lightly kissing
the eyelids, his tongue sweeping along the thick fringe of dark lashes,
following the curve of an eyebrow, across the temple to one slightly elfin
ear. He moaned in unison with his lover as fingers travelled along the
crevice between his asscheeks, stroking the perineum before circling the
small pucker of muscle. The fingers disappeared for a moment only to
reappear above him. Mulder watched as two were sucked into Krycek's pretty
mouth and laved before resuming their journey between his asscheeks. His
hips thrust against Krycek's as one finger penetrated his flesh, stroking
deeper with each movement. As the sensations built, climbing ever higher
with each slide of hot flesh on flesh, Mulder nuzzled into the short sable
hair, rubbing his cheek against the soft strands until Alex moved his head.
Their mouths met, open and wet as first Mulder and then Alex reached that
exquisite peak, gasping out their mutual pleasure only to have their cries
of ecstasy consumed by the other.
It's the rhythm of you with your hips on my hips Mulder floated back down to Earth to the feel of soft, tender kisses pressed
against any part of his body that Alex could reach. He rolled to one side
and gathered his lover into his arms, eyes closing in contentment as the
night's events finally took their toll.
When he awoke several hours later, the heavy warmth was still settled
against him... the arm thrown across his torso, one leg slipped between his,
the dark head cradled upon his shoulder. He gazed down at a face so open and
vulnerable in sleep; so innocent and angelic and he smiled. He had no
illusions. Krycek was no innocent... but then, neither were Angels. Gently,
he caressed the warm skin, relishing the feel of it beneath his finger tips.
Dark lashes fluttered and Mulder felt a soft breath exhaled as Alex began to
stir. He watched as the curtain rose to reveal those beautiful sea-green
eyes, still softened by sleep. Awareness came, a slight tension in the
muscles quickly released when Alex felt no sense of danger from the man
holding him. He stretched lazily, eyes glowing as a sensuous smile lifted
the corners of his perfect mouth. One finger moved to caress Mulder's bottom
lip but this time it was too gentle to reopen the split.
"So now we've established you put out on the second date." A smile of pure
devilry lit up Mulder's face. "What can I expect on the third?"
Second Date
by Tarlan
"Shit!"
It's the things that you do with your mouth and your lips
The caress of your hair, and your sensual kiss
It's the way that we share in the moment that goes on forever.
This Is Love—Chris de Burgh
