Grimacing, Alex thought, 'as if Mulder would really notice.'
The last time that Mulder had touched him sexually had been on the road to
Tunguska. That hadn't been exactly the most sensuous scene to remember either.
Mulder had attacked him with as much anger as passion and he had been sore and
stiff already so it had hurt more then a little.
Alex labeled his thoughts as moronic and rapped sharply on the door. The metal
number, Forty-two, was a little ajar and he straightened it. No answer, but he
heard a muffled groaning, intermingled with curses, coming from inside. He
listened and it was definitely Mulder. Alex blushed, envisioning breaking in on
Mulder finally consummating that long denied attraction to Dana Scully.
No, Mulder sounded angry and pained.
Alex now imagined some creep was raping Mulder. He promptly burst through the
door, gun in hand to save his beloved.
Alex saw a tree, a big tree, a mass of lights, a mess of tinsel, and a string of
popcorn and cranberries, all normal for this time of year except that Mulder lay
helplessly struggling, entangled by the stuff and pinned by the tree. Alex
walked around, noticing Mulder's eyes following him.
"Don't laugh. Get me of this!" Mulder said
Swallowing his smirk and kneeling down, Alex tried to separate one strand of
lights from another. How did it get tangled up there between Mulder's legs? Alex
worked the strand down, every fleeting contact with the groin necessary, of
course. Mulder wiggled and tried to get an arm free.
Mulder's shoes had to be taken off to help free his legs. Alex worked one strand
of lights down and then started on another one, which lay above the stomach. A
flap of shirt was caught in the twist of wire. Alex said, "I think it will help
to get your shirt off unless you want me to cut the string?"
Mulder said, "No, it's all my mother's stuff; she'd kill me."
Happy as hell, Alex worked the shirt loose and off. Mulder's torso was wet with
sweat, reminding Alex of other times. Mulder's expression was interesting. Alex
stroked the stomach, trying not to be obvious in his desire to linger, and
reassured, "Almost home free now."
Mulder grinned and said, "Thanks, Alex." He moved suddenly and Alex toppled on
top of him. "Whoops" said Mulder unconvincingly.
Face to face, cute pointed nose to long crooked nose, green eyes focused on
hazel eyes, Alex turned his gaze down and he was falling. Their noses slid
against each other, quick puff of exhalation against Alex's face. Mulder pressed
his hand to the back of Alex's head, bringing him down, and his lips were warm,
moist, and hard against Alex's.
Mulder's lips brushed side-to-side. His mouth was closed and only a smooth wisp
of a touch tickled Alex's mouth. A pause... and Alex searched Mulder's face for
a hint. Would this turn violent? Was Mulder going to lead him on and then laugh
in his face for his audacity in thinking his crippled body could still be
desired? No, Mulder was looking at him as he had long ago; as if Alex was
someone that another person might want, trust, and desire for more then a few
quick moments.
Mulder brought Alex's lips back down to his own and he explored them with a slow
slide of his tongue. Alex opened his mouth and Mulder's kiss settled like flame,
it burned and then it warmed. Alex felt his body growing limp, heavy, and
boneless except for the insistent rise of his cock. Mulder's torso rubbed
against his and Mulder snaked his free hand between them to push Alex's shirt
up. Alex laid his face into the crook of Mulder's neck, passively letting Mulder
explore.
Pressing his mouth against Alex's once more, Mulder drank in Alex's breath and
Alex let him. For a long moment of airless and giddy happiness, Alex dizzily
contemplated the expression on Mulder's face.
The smell of the bruised greens rose up in crisp, bitter aroma. Alex was
conscious of the cranberry and popcorn string beneath his knee. Mulder teased,
"Don't forget to breathe, Alex."
Mulder's fingers stroked the side of his face, Alex opened his lips, letting a
finger slide in; he sucked on it fervently. Mulder grinned. He said, "Let's move
this to the couch."
Trailing a broken tinsel garland, discarding the persistent octopus grip of the
cranberry and popcorn string, they climbed to their feet like creatures rising
from a holiday swamp. Alex kicked off his shoes. Mulder tore down Alex's jeans,
peeling them away with both hands, not a slow tease by any means.
Moaning, Alex returned the favor with just a little help from Mulder. Groaning
into each other's mouth, they discarded the remainder of their clothing and then
there was nothing but flesh yielding to flesh. They were both sweating. Alex
panted, unable to catch his breath.
Mulder nuzzled Alex's neck, sucking in his skin and nibbling until Alex was
squirming. The bastard remembered that; he still knew all the places and all the
ways to touch him and kiss him to send him out of his mind. Alex remembered too,
reaching his good hand down to stroke the soft flesh just on the inside of
Mulder's arm. He wiggled free, open mouth suckling and tongue swirling on flesh.
He nuzzled Mulder's armpit, soaking in the smell of clean, horny Mulder. He
kissed, leaving a wet trail down the soft inside of the arm. Alex blew softly on
the dampness and Mulder blinked his eyes as he enjoyed the sensation.
Grabbing Alex's hair, Mulder rolled over, sprawling on Alex, long limbs askew as
he straddled him.
"You," Mulder articulated.
"Me?" Alex questioned. He uttered small prayer, the prayer of a man who had
little reason to believe in goodness and mercy. Silently, he pleaded, 'Don't
ruin this, Mulder! Don't turn on me.'
Another kiss, so long that Alex gasped when their lips parted. Mulder's hands
stroked from Alex's shoulders down. He didn't hesitate when he came to the
abrupt end of the left arm.
Mulder's eyes smoldered. "You! You're just what I wanted for Christmas."
And Alex would have said the same except there were no words left. There was
just the merging of two souls, the entwining of two bodies, and no need, no need
at all for more words, just the end, just the end of pain, and the start of
something that was supposed to be.
And leaving them, it was not really....
A Tangle of Light
by Ursula
Alex paused in the hallway, catching sight of his reflection in a mirror. He
brushed at his hair, noticing the perennially straying strand was doing its best
to creep forward over his forehead. His new jacket hid the prosthesis fairly
well. The jeans he had picked were skintight. He brushed his hand over his ass
with a backward glance. Yeah, that was still one of his good features.
