"Oh, it was sweet, it was wild,
—"Homesick" by the Cure
I woke up on my couch as usual, staring at the ceiling,
automatically checking for holes and bugs. None there... this time.
Dust motes swirled in the light coming in through the window.
The old leather of the couch creaked beneath me as I moved. The
TV, left on last night, blared the theme song to Pinky and the
Brain. Just like any other morning.
Except I had no real urge to get up and go to work. I couldn't find
the will to do much of anything.
I knew why. I'd been fighting a growing sense of unreality for
days.
I had seen the ship, filled with thousands of people taken captive
for alien experimentation. People I couldn't rescue... As I'd
watched the ship fly away, I had thought, this changes everything.
It changed nothing. Scully had succeeded in getting the X-Files
reopened, and I had her commitment to me as a partner, but that
just returned us to a slightly altered version of the status quo.
Despite her experience in the ship, she still had moments when she
desperately tried to deny it all: the ship, her experience in the pod,
that moment in the hallway when I'd almost kissed her...
We still had no evidence beyond that one bee. All my attempts to
unearth leads on the aliens or the Consortium have led to total dead
ends. It was as if they all ceased to exist. I knew no more now
about the vaccine I'd used to get Scully back than I did when the
Well-Manicured Man handed me the only vial, now used and lost.
One thing had changed. A quiet calm had fallen over my life. It
seemed as if the Consortium had stopped letting my existence
bother them. No one else tried to kill me; no more shadowy
contacts came forward to try to enlighten me. With the way my
life had been since getting back from Antarctica, I could have been
just another federal agent, albeit one with a load of odd cases.
It was driving me insane.
I've always lived in the middle of a storm, under constant pressure,
with pain and bad fortune raining down. Pressure from my father
to be the best, to not waste my intellect, even while I was very
young. I remembered him ripping up my first grade homework
and making me rewrite it if he thought it looked too sloppy.
Eventually I internalized that drive for perfection until it was my
drive. I had to be the perfect son, the brilliant student... to follow
in Dad's footsteps into the FBI. Later, it involved finding
Samantha and being so wonderful and perfect that my parents
would get back together, so that we could be a family again, only a
happy one, this time. Failing most of that only made me try
harder.
I did all this in a family environment that could be called volatile
even before Samantha's abduction. Dad was my first profiling
assignment. I studied him until I could recognize the physical and
behavioral cues that would tell me when I could deal with him
without him screaming at me. Or worse.
I became used to that environment; eventually, I learned to thrive
in it. You could live in a wind tunnel and get used to the roar and
the buffeting if you lived with it long enough. But when the
pressure stops and silence falls, the sound of your own thoughts
and heart beating become so loud and overwhelming...
I couldn't talk to Scully about this. If I told her that peace and
quiet drove me insane, she'd ask me to wait for the nice men to
come and take me away. I didn't even sound sane to myself when
I looked at it.
From the TV I heard Brain say, "All the best authorities on
motivational psychology agree, you must recreate. Why, the very
etymology of the word says it all: 're-create.' You must recreate
yourself by pursuing diversions apart from your quotidian
responsibilities." Brain intended to take the night off from his
obsession of trying to take over the world.
People think I'm an atheist, but that wasn't quite right. I couldn't
completely convince myself that God didn't exist. There's a
difference between belief and reverence, though. If He did exist, I
refused to worship any being who had that much power but didn't
use it to make people's lives better. I've yet to see a miracle.
Sometimes I think He amuses Himself by making life a misery.
The two religiously-tinged X-Files I've seen support that theory.
I could see this cartoon's timing as a coincidence or a sign. A God
who communicated with His people through cartoons was one I
wouldn't mind believing in.
I've never willingly taken a vacation. Sometimes I took a day off
from the office to secretly track down a lead. Once in a while
Skinner forced me to use some of my leave time.
I needed a change, a diversion. I could take off for a few days.
Nothing important waited for me at work right now, anyway...
Don't think about that.
I could take a long vacation if I liked. Dad had left me a fortune in
blood money, handled by a broker I'd inherited with it. If I could,
I would throw it all away, but the broker gave me stipends and
controlled the rest. The man even sounded like Dad. . "I know
that having a lot of money at once can be overwhelming, Fox, so
I'll take care of the rest of it for you... I have an investment
opportunity I don't think we can pass up..." I couldn't argue with
that voice—I never could—so my fortune continued to grow.
I retaliated in my usual passive-aggressive style. I flung my
monthly stipend to a few pet charities. I spent it on expensive
suits, which I then proceeded to mutilate with mud, blood, and
assorted ichors. I doubt the broker cared, but my hissy fits made
me feel more in control.
Spending the money on some sanity-restoring recreation time
would be a good use for it. I felt a little better already.
I called Kimberly to give notice that I'd be taking a week off. It
took me 20 minutes to convince her I wasn't drunk or under
duress. Scully had already left for work, and we didn't have the
phones set up in the new office yet, so I called Kimberly again to
ask her to explain to Scully what had happened. Skinner's
secretary was positive I was calling to change my mind, and asked
repeatedly if I was all right.
I dressed in casual attire, an old sweater and jeans, and positively
gloried in how much less confining they felt than a suit and tie. I
pulled out drawers and flung my closet door open with abandon.
As I packed a suitcase, I started to wonder where I would go. I had
so many choices.
With Dad's money, I could take a car, a plane, a train, a boat. I
could go anywhere I wanted. I could stay on the continent... No, I
saw the states just doing my job. I could go to Europe or Asia or...
Any country, anywhere, any way I wanted.
I had too many choices. I couldn't make up my mind.
A new and horrible thought occurred to me. I could go anywhere,
but I would still be myself. No matter where you go, there you are,
as Buckeroo Banzai once said. I couldn't escape. I would just
make myself more miserable in the attempt.
My great intellect had allowed me to work that out before I left so
the misery would hit sooner rather than later. At least it meant I
didn't have to feel quite so stupid.
I stopped that line of thought before it started. I've been here
before. I would feel stupid about something, then feel stupid for
feeling stupid, and head straight into bitter self-hatred from there.
I refused to play that game today.
I felt something hard and cold press into my back, making my
fading bruises ache. A familiar voice, accompanied by warm
breath, said into my ear, "We'll be going on a little trip. Come
along quietly." He sounded cold, professional, and dangerous.
Business then, and not pleasure.
Even as I wondered how the hell he could break into my apartment
and move so quietly that I didn't even notice him, I felt an
incandescent joy at his presence and all it promised. Danger,
excitement, uncertainty, hot sex... maybe even a little tenderness.
What kind of life did I lead that my angel of mercy was the angel
of death in black leather, that my salvation was a gun at my back
with the threat of death if I didn't allow myself to be kidnapped?
Sometimes, I couldn't help thinking that it wasn't such a bad life
after all. I never said I wasn't seriously fucked-up.
"I'm already packed, Alex," Mulder said, with an almost sultry
tone, and I wished I knew what the hell was going on. I should
stop being surprised when things don't turn out the way I plan.
Sometimes the unexpected could be enjoyable. Like right now, as
I watched Mulder arch his back against the gun as I rolled it down
his spine. I slid it back up, just as slowly and thoroughly, and
watched him shiver... This was not the way most people reacted to
having a gun shoved in their backs.
A whole new kink, and it's not even my birthday.
I never knew how he would react when he saw me. Sometimes we
fought and hissed menacingly at one another; other times we
fucked one another until we passed out. Then we went our
separate ways until the next time. It gave our meetings the spice of
the unexpected, but sometimes I wished I had my half of the script
ready in advance.
Maybe this time I would find a way to distract him enough, make
him need me enough...
My plan had me chuckling evilly to myself for a week. Since
America's Most Obsessed Federal Agent refused to take vacations,
I would kidnap him. He works too hard; it's just not good for him.
Since I also still kidnapped him for real once in a while...
I figured I would tailor my introductory speech to the Mulder who
met me: FightMe!Mulder, FuckMe!Mulder, or the volatile
combination of the two he sometimes showed me. Getting a
reaction from any of the three never failed to be fun.
Even I sometimes felt surprised by how odd our relationship was, a
three-year courtship followed by a fiery consummation. Mulder
had tracked me down after he got back from the military base and
half a day of interrogation and caught up with me in an alley. We
got into the usual fight, him completely out of control from the
blinding rage he indulged in sometimes, me holding back just
enough not to kill him by accident.
He had me pinned against the wall, both of us breathing hard, our
blood up... We both moved in for the kiss at almost the same time,
devouring one another. That first time we were like savages,
biting and clawing, desperately trying to get inside one another.
Not many people got to see him in this electrical storm state, fierce
and overwhelming. When he sucked me in, ruthlessly milking my
cock with those luxuriant lips, I still couldn't believe it was really
happening. Lost in sensation, I almost pulled his hair out by the
roots.
Later, when his mind came back, he stared at me with a shocked
look in his eyes and asked what we were going to do now. Seeing
as how our clothing had already been ripped away and the sex had
been so good the first time... The second time he responded with a
slow-burning sweetness that stunned me. As I had him up against
the wall, he had me... forever.
It figured that my missing half would be a crazed, self-destructive
idealist.
At the very least, I was never bored.
I felt the uncontrollable urge to play with him a little. "Maybe I
don't want to take you anywhere after all," I said as I slid the gun
over a few vertebrae.
Mulder shuddered. "No?" He sounded so disappointed.
I gave up trying to figure out what thoughts ran in that beautiful,
fucked-up head long ago. "What do you want to do?"
"I want you to take me somewhere, Alex. Anywhere, as long as it
isn't here." His voice tried for nonchalance but failed, shaking just
a little.
As pretty a picture as a simultaneously disturbed and horny Mulder
made, I wanted to make him feel better. A few possibilities came
to me, but they needed to be developed more...
"I can take you away from this, Mulder, but you have to trust me."
He laughed. "Sure, Alex. Why wouldn't I?" He shivered and
whimpered as I brought the gun up under his sweater and ran it
along his skin.
"Is there anything you need to do before we go?" I asked as I
tongued his ear.
He nodded, his silky hair whispering against my face, and
unzipped his faded jeans. His cock, already painfully hard, nudged
its way free, with a little help from his hand, of his underwear. I
slid the gun across his back, over his ribs, and down, down, until I
stroked his shaft with the barrel, warmed from contact with his
own skin. More responsive and sensitive than usual, he shuddered
and moaned with each caress. In a short while he came with a
shout, bucking hard and helplessly against me.
The feel of his ass moving against me, even through layers of
clothing, didn't do me any favors, but I could wait a little. As
much fun as I had teasing him, I knew he got understandably
cranky if I made him wait for it. This put him in a good mood and
took the edge off, making it possible for him to last longer next
time.
After the last shuddering thrust, his head lolled back against mine.
Six feet of satiated federal agent leaned on me, making me smile.
"Better?" I asked as I kissed him.
"Mm-hmm," he mumbled, eyes closed. I loved the way sex made
him almost glow.
"No time for that now; we have places to go." I woke him up when
I slipped out from behind him and came around to lick him clean.
His cock stirred a little against my tongue, but I pulled away. "Zip
up and get your shoes on."
He quirked an eyebrow at me, but followed orders. That alone
made me want to jump him. As he tied his lumberjack boots, I
looked around the room for something I could use for the next
step. I grinned as I saw it in one of his open drawers.
"Blindfold yourself. With that." I nodded at one of his black dress
socks.
Mulder looked a little hurt, as if he thought I intended to play a bad
joke on him. "Alex—"
"I think you'll like my plans. Let me try to cheer you up."
Mulder stood up with the sock in his hand, gave me a look of
misgiving I wanted to kiss away, then tied it around his head over
his eyes. I checked to make sure it was too thick for him to see
through, then took his arm. He had his head cocked to the side like
a bird, listening, and I could almost feel him trying to expand his
other senses to make up for the lost sight.
This surrender suggested either a new level of trust or a Mulder
who just felt too numb or self-destructive to be afraid. I knew
which one I preferred, but I could work with either.
"Pick up your suitcase. It's near your right foot. We're leaving
now."
Terror and anticipation made me almost dizzy. Alex could do
anything to me now...
With my world shrouded in darkness, my other senses slowly
became amplified to take up the slack. As we walked I listened to
the soft huff of his breathing, felt him moving next to me and his
hand on my arm like static electricity across my skin. His good
arm had become more muscular over time as he did the work of
two with it. He propelled me along, and I let him. Despite his
strength, he held me gently. I enjoyed Alex's solicitous side
whenever he presented it, so I enjoyed the trip even more as he told
me about every obstacle in my path, saying when I should stop or
step down, his voice warm and slightly rough in my ear. Slightly
wet...
I hoped none of my neighbors would see this. Not just for the
embarrassment—I could feel how tight my jeans had become, so
my arousal had to be obvious to the world—but also because I was
afraid Alex would hurt anyone who tried to interfere.
His violence worried and appalled me, but occasionally I couldn't
help feeling thrilled by his possessiveness.
I sometimes wondered why my missing half had to be a
sociopathic killer who usually worked for my worst enemies.
Other times I could only be thankful that the sociopath in question
was gorgeous and fiercely intelligent and had a taste for leather.
Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.
As we walked outside I felt the morning sunlight like a warm
blanket across my face. The air carried the scent of grass and
flowers, not yet obliterated by the heat and car exhaust that would
come later as the day wore on. The high-pitched chirps of
birdsong floated over the steady bass thrum of air conditioners. I
breathed crisp air that still retained the refined, cleaner taste of
night and tried to let my senses wash my thoughts away. For a
while I succeeded.
As I came back to myself, I realized that we'd been standing still
for a long time. Alex's voice had the warm, raw glow of whisky as
he said, "I wish you could see how beautiful you are with the light
slanting golden off your cheekbones and that look of rapture on
your face..."
Soon Alex helped me into a car seat and belted me in a bit
awkwardly. I let my head drift back against the headrest after I
heard the door slam shut. The intense chemical, plastic, and
leather smell of a new car enclosed me, and I wondered if Alex had
stolen it.
He didn't speak as he drove, needing his concentration for driving
one-handed. With the darkness of the blindfold, the quiet, and the
steady vibration of the car to lull me, I soon drifted into a light
sleep. I awoke to a slow, sensuous caress that started at my left
cheekbone and ended at my lips.
"We're here, Mulder."
Wherever "here" was. I wanted to find out.
Suitcase in hand, I let him lead me forward. After he stopped me, I
heard a commotion that sounded like he was wrestling something
aside. After some more banging and creaking, he propelled me
into an enclosed space and, from the sudden loss of fresh air,
closed the door.
I smelled dust, must, and something sweet and dark that was
vaguely redolent of rot. Before I could panic, Alex slipped the
blindfold from my eyes.
At first, I saw a darkness so complete I might as well have been
still blindfolded. Then Alex started to light candles, and the space
gained form and color around me. As we walked, each of us
bearing a candle, I understood where we were.
Once upon a time, a long time before bare, strip mall multiplexes,
going to the movies had been an event. People had dressed in their
best clothing for it and watched films in ostentatious palaces of
gleaming crystal, red velvet, and gold. Alex had taken me to the
abandoned ruin of such a palace.
Scarred marble lined the walls, and the skeletal remnants of
battered chandeliers still hung from the ceiling. The carpet still
showed lush red in places. Tarnished gilt and yellowed broken
glass occasionally glimmered. Some of the wall carvings had lost
their heads or had their eyes gouged out. When we walked into the
theater proper, I saw giant circular scars on the walls where
balconies had been torn down. Some of the seats were gone,
giving the area the look of a mouth missing some of its teeth. The
curtain that obscured the stage had been worn nearly to
transparency in places.
The sight of such showy grandeur torn apart and pissed on brought
my heart to my throat. Some of the ruin could be attributed to an
unwillingness to keep things up, but so much of it was obviously
the work of vandals, destroying only for the love of destruction.
Why had he brought me here? To show me how much worse
things could be?
Alex pulled the curtain open, and my whole mindset changed.
Sets, hanging backdrops, and prop furniture crowded the stage,
making a crazy patchwork world of interiors and exteriors.
Someone had tried to give the theater a second life as a playhouse.
As Alex lit the candles that lined the edge of the stage, locations
became clearer. I saw a Greek temple, a Victorian drawing room,
a garden, distant modern cities, a Parisian cafe...
"If there's anywhere you don't like," Alex rolled a Greek temple
piece away to reveal to reveal a '50's soda shoppe, "we can always
go somewhere else. I couldn't decide where to take you... so I
decided to take you everywhere."
I felt myself grinning like a lunatic, fiercely pleased before I even
realized it. A bright, insane oasis of make-believe amidst the
rotting wreckage... The valiance and decadence almost killed me
with their beauty.
He knew me, my bright side and my dark. He knew me...
"It's perfect, Alex," I said softly.
It didn't take me long to think of the theater I sometimes used as a
hiding place. After a little cleaning and my extermination of the
rats and vagrants who'd crowded the place, it had become a perfect
sanctuary, a place no one would think to look. Seeing the blinding
look of almost unholy joy on Mulder's face made the effort worth
it all over again.
While vandals and vagrants had gotten to most of the theater by the
time I arrived, the sets and props had been kept in a locked and
hard-to-reach basement room. Thus, they remained mostly intact.
It was a good thing I moved all the stuff up here before Tunguska's
peasants "saved" me. I only needed a few strategically placed
corpses to stop people from breaking in to fuck up all the work and
cleaning I'd done.
Mulder climbed onto the stage, then stood facing—eyes closed,
head back, arms outstretched—where the audience would have
been. As he stood there, I could feel him imagining the theater in
its heyday. I could almost see the antique audience applaud amid
lit chandeliers, vibrant red, and ostentatious gilding. I could
almost hear them.
Mulder tinged reality for the people around him; he just couldn't
help it. He was a nexus for insanity and the unnatural. I couldn't
entirely blame Dana Scully for clinging so tightly to the
mainstream view of the world despite all the evidence, not when
she probably saw her denial as her only way of fighting against it.
Before I rode shotgun with him, I dealt with mundane opponents
and problems. After, I got possessed by an alien oil slick, involved
in a search for the cure for it, and entangled in a war between two
alien races. I've seen and done things no one else would believe.
It isolated you, forced you to deal with other people marked like
you just to maintain a sense of your own sanity, to reassure
yourself. I resented him for it sometimes, even if it hadn't been his
choice to entwine my life with his, to force me out of the safe
cocoon of what I'd thought had been reality. I couldn't do it for
very long though, not when he so obviously suffered as much as or
more than the people who got dragged into his world.
When he turned to me, he looked like a down-on-his-luck angel in
his faded denim and worn-out sweater, but the look on his face
almost illuminated the stage. "Thank you," he said, his voice low
and rough with feeling.
We met in a tangle of limbs and kissed madly, almost knocking
down a set behind us before we hit the floor. "What was that?"
Mulder asked breathlessly.
"We almost destroyed Paris."
He grinned, his face open and sunny in a way he rarely showed.
"You don't happen to have Tokyo back there, do you?"
"We can reenact monster movies later, Mulder."
"Promise?"
"Promise." I stroked one of his cheekbones and smiled at the way
he closed his eyes and abandoned himself to my touch. "I have a
surprise for you."
I picked up a candle and led him through the temple and a
Midwestern farm before I stopped. Mulder gaped at the large four-
poster bed and smirked when he saw the set it stood in, with the
backdrop painted with representations of shelves full of toys and
model airplanes. A young boy's room.
"You like?" I asked as I set the candle down on a night table near
the bed.
"You are kinky."
"This from a guy who sees a gun as a sextoy. Not that I'm
complaining."
His look of ostentatious offense made me crack up. Mulder
laughed when I flung him onto the bed but soon gained a more
appreciative look as he relaxed into the soft sheets and mattress. I
took luxury wherever I could.
As soon as I settled in beside him, he started to take off my clothes,
unwrapping me slowly, fingers trailed sometimes lightly and
sometimes with more pressure across my skin. He unbuckled and
removed the prosthetic with great care and gently set it down
beside the bed. As he unzipped my jeans he also tortured my
nipples with his tongue and teeth, sucking and nipping. Once he
had me completely nude, he sat back and admired his handiwork.
With how hard I was, I wanted him to do more than stare at me,
especially since the way he stared at me, like I was a feast and he
couldn't decide what to start eating first, did nothing for my self-
control. "Mulder..."
"Have I told you how much I love this theater, Alex?"
"Mulder..."
"It was very thoughtful of you to bring—"
"Mulder!"
He smiled, then dove in for the attack. I whimpered as he licked
the weeping head of my cock clean, then paid attention to my balls,
taking and then the other into his mouth and rolling them on his
tongue. His hand held my cock firmly at the base to control me,
making me wonder what he had planned. Finally, he abandoned
them too and licked his way down. I sobbed as he then proceeded
to give me an incredible rim job, his talented tongue swirling
around the opening awhile before thrusting in rhythmically.
If I didn't come now, I would die. Apparently Mulder could read
my body well enough to sense that, because he left off what he was
doing, took his hand away, and enveloped my cock with his mouth.
First he nibbled and hummed, driving me crazy, before he took me
in deep and really started to suck. He held my hips down to stop
me from bucking into his mouth too hard as I came with a shout.
Finally, spent and trying to catch my breath, I collapsed back
against the pillows and stroked his hair.
Mulder finished me off with one last, long lick, then climbed up
beside me. "Thank you for bringing me here," he said with a
smile.
"If that's the kind of thanks I can get—"
"—maybe you'll try to do things to please me more often? That's
kind of what I'm trying for here, Alex. Not that I don't enjoy
driving you crazy on its own merits..."
"Driving me crazy. Better this way than your usual way," I said.
He stuck his tongue out at me. "Don't do that unless you intend to
use it."
He just smiled and looked coy. I swatted him. "Strip for me,
Mulder."
His eyes clouded for a moment, making me worry, then he got off
the bed and stood up. Usually he made a little show of stripping,
but this time he did it slowly but efficiently, with not a single extra
or lingering gesture. I wanted to see his ass, but he never once
turned around, facing me the whole time with a gaze that seemed
to hold some misgiving. Now he was scaring the hell out of me.
Once he taken everything off, he got back on the bed carefully, but
I grabbed him and flipped him onto his stomach so I could see
what he was hiding. "What the hell happened to you?"
Fading bruises in yellow/green/purple marbled the fine skin of his
ass and back. The colors outlined and radiated out from his spine.
I could imagine how much they must have hurt when he'd first
gotten them.
Mulder had an almost sheepish expression, trying to be brave and
hide the apprehension, as he looked at me over his shoulder. "I
slid down at least a mile of bumpy ice tunnel. You should have
seen them four days ago. I could barely move." The anxiety
surfaced a little more. "Not exactly pretty, is it?"
I kissed the center of a yellow-purple rosette on one cheek and
grinned. "If I didn't like bruises, I would never have taken up with
you." To prove myself further, I blanketed his ass in nibbling
kisses while using my hand to toy with his cock. He writhed and
whimpered so beautifully that I was soon hard again.
Maybe the bruises made him more sensitive, but it didn't take long
before he moaned, "Alex, please fuck me now."
I pulled his cock a little as I said, "I do like that 'please.' So
polite."
"Bastard."
"There's the Mulder I'm used to."
"Alex..." While I had been busy talking, he'd been rummaging
through the night table's drawer and found the condoms and
lubricant. He slapped them down on the table. Very impressive
from a man who I had so thoroughly pinned. He looked at me over
his shoulder, burning with want.
It made me smile, and I backed away. "Put it on me."
He got up and turned around. He kissed me demandingly as he put
the condom on me and slicked me up. Then he lay back down and
slicked himself up, moaning and writhing as he thrust his own
fingers in and out, slowly and thoroughly finger-fucking himself.
The sight made me lose all sense, as he knew it would. I pulled his
hand away and stroked in myself, sheathing myself in him to the
balls before pulling almost all the way out. He groaned and
shivered as I set a hard, ruthless rhythm, exactly as I knew he
wanted it right now.
I should have known from the wanton way he reacted to the gun
earlier that the idiot had almost gotten himself killed again. It's
human nature and especially his nature to want to fuck after barely
surviving death. Nature's way of propagating the species.
I had been incommunicado on assignment recently, only to return
to find out that my British sponsor was dead and get hints that
something horrible had happened to the Consortium's plan, not
that they told me anything. They thought I should be grateful that
they weren't ditching me after the death of my patron. It didn't
take too much effort to find out about the car bomb and Mulder's
presence just before it went off. My sponsor had broken ranks and
helped Mulder for some reason. The rest of the events would take
more effort to dig out, much more.
Almost got himself killed again. Over and over Mulder danced
with death, always just barely escaping. I knew it made me a
hypocrite to complain when I lived an even more hazardous,
uncertain life, but I wanted to keep him safe somehow,
somewhere. I wanted him to be mine and mine alone, there
whenever I needed him... I had to save the damned idiot from
himself...
My thoughts made me be a little rougher than usual, but my
partner certainly didn't complain. Instead, Mulder urged me on,
inviting me to lose myself in pleasure and the fevered embrace of
his straining flesh. I did, gladly. When I bit his shoulder, I felt his
whole body spasm, and his muscles clench so tight they almost
broke me. With a harsh scream, I erupted inside him.
Suddenly remembering Mulder's multitude of bruises, I rolled us
over to our sides before I pulled out and disposed of the condom.
When I turned over, he snuggled in and kept kissing me.
"I needed that," he sighed.
As we kissed and petted one another, every thought left my head.
I awoke in total darkness, unsure of where I was. The feeling used
to unsettle me more before I got used to all the motel rooms I slept
in while on assignment, but it never went away. This didn't smell
like one of my motel rooms, not with the must and dust and
certainly not with the heavy smell of sex. The lingering feeling of
great contentment and the warm weight of someone holding me
weren't familiar either.
I felt that someone move against my bare skin and murmur my
name against my neck. Alex. I remembered the past few hours
and smiled.
I held him tighter and relaxed, just letting him sleep against me as I
watched him breathe for hours. I didn't know how long this would
last—nothing ever lasts—and I intended to enjoy every minute I
had. I felt something deep and warm inside me that I curled up
around like a cat. Eventually I felt a sure hand stroking my cock
and Alex's lips against my skin. I moaned.
"Good morning, Mulder," he said, his voice rough and low, as his
hand started to pull a little harder.
And it was.
After a morning spent in bed testing Mulder's endurance, I finally
went out for food. Once I came back with the Chinese take-out,
we ate it at the Parisian cafe. I knew Mulder lived on coffee,
sunflower seeds, and donuts usually, so I intended to make sure he
ate right while he was with me and I had the cash to take care of
him. The thought of Mulder as my kept boy made me smirk.
He looked thoroughly debauched with his disheveled hair and
afterglow, wearing a velvet robe he'd liberated from the costume
room. No longer crackling with restless energy, he moved more
languidly; sex always seemed to take the edge off of his manic
phases. He'd ordered sweet and sour chicken, and the sauce had
stained his lush lips a candy red. I settled on his lap and kissed
him, enjoying the complex, contradictory tones of the flavor of his
mouth and the feel of his immediate arousal under me.
"Still hungry, Alex?" he asked with a smile when I pulled away a
little.
I wanted this, wanted him with me forever. I just had to find a
way...
"Always. Stick with me, Mulder, and I'll show you the world."
Anywhere But Here
by Viridian5
And oh how we...
I trembled, stuck in honey,
Honey cling to me.
So just one more, just one more go.
Inspire in me the desire in me to never go home"
