Domesticated III Territory Establishing yourself as a neat freak had its advantages. If he ever
asked about any of these things I had a ready answer.
I was fucking sick of all the thugs wandering into the apartment or
trying to keep tabs on us from the other ones. If the old man had to
put Mulder under surveillance he could damned well do it at the
office. Home was off-limits. They had to know I was here by
now, and they already knew how I felt about people invading my
territory.
I'd killed so many intruders over the last few months that I was
starting to wonder if Old Man Spender had reached a point where
he just sent the people that he wanted disposed of. "I'll give them
to Alex; he'll kill anyone." If that was true, I wanted my fee.
Keys jingled in the lock. I don't know how many times I've told
Mulder not to give anyone hiding in his apartment that kind of
advance notice. I would probably never get him properly trained.
Grinning, I crouched in my spot and prepared to spring. I had an
open line at him as soon as he opened the door. If I had a tail, it
would be twitching. Our matched collars made an awkward bulge
in my jeans pocket beside another bulge. They rubbed together
nicely as I shifted now and then; in fact, I shifted just to feel that
friction.
Four days without him. I wanted him so badly I could taste it.
I had finally successfully partitioned my life. When he wasn't
around, I could be the cold, ruthless bastard I had to be and not
even think of him while on the job. But it cost a little. When I had
him, the emotions and lust tended to make up for lost time. Not
that he ever complained.
The door swung open, but Mulder didn't come in. I aborted my
leap and waited. A gun barrel cleared the doorway, then withdrew.
He stalked in, gun ready, using the wall for cover, glancing in
every direction around the apartment.
My smile nearly devoured my face. He was playing! It was so
damned sweet.
And so damned useless. I leapt and hit him from the back. He let
out a distinctly girly scream as he went down under me but kept
hold of his gun without squeezing the trigger in his surprise. He
was getting better. Only my lust was greater than my pride.
We wrestled for the gun, both grinning like loons. Or showing our
clenched teeth like dueling lions. He had two hands, but I kept
smacking him with my prosthetic arm. Struggling, we writhed and
ground against one another, panting. He was at least as hard
against me as I was against him. We must have looked like a
flurry of jerky movement. The tang of his sweat made me want to
bury my face in his neck.
He stopped fighting so suddenly I fell on him. I prepared for some
sneaky move from him, but he was just lying there giggling. "You
surrender?" I asked as I tongued his ear.
"Kinda. I realized that if we kept it up, I'd come in my suit pants
soon. That's not how I want to do it."
"You're smarter than you look."
"That wouldn't be too hard."
Our struggle had brought a flush to his face, and his hair had
spiked more. Not many people know what an incredible smile he
has, but he was shining it at me now. We were lying on his trench
coat unfurled beneath us. I'd successfully initiated the rumpling
process on his clothes and self; rumpling improved his looks. I
pulled his tie loose and put my teeth around the top button of his
dress shirt.
"Alex!" he protested.
"Mulder!" I replied.
"Let me do that."
"You want to bite off your own top button? I want to see this."
"Smart—"
"—Alex?"
"Brat."
"And proud of it."
But I watched his long, clever fingers take off the tie and undo the
buttons. No undershirt, but he'd known I'd be here when he got
home. He made a small incoherent sound as I nuzzled the smooth
skin of his stomach. Yeah, he'd gotten me into it. Him offering
his belly to me like this touched something primal and atavistic; it
signaled surrender and trust.
His hips already bucked under me, since it had been days since
we'd last gone at one another. This first time would be on the
"wham-bam" level for sure, but I liked fast and frenzied too, and
we'd have more time later. Hell, I made him see God on a nightly
basis, at least he usually kept screaming like he saw the Creator. I
could also wring multiple erections from him, even if he were
nearing forty. With the exercise I was giving him, I was probably
adding years to his life.
Of course, getting shot at and throwing himself into danger fucked
with all that, but there was only so much even I could do.
"Maybe we should close the door first," Mulder said with a grin.
"Why? I think old lady Scheel could use a thrill."
"Old lady Scheel doesn't deserve you."
"Aw! I think."
"I meant it in a good way. Mostly."
"I could still kill you with my hand tied behind my back."
Mulder's hand rummaged through my jeans' pocket a little longer
than necessary—not that I didn't enjoy it—and pulled out the cat
collars. "But you can't put these on."
"Give me enough time and a little privacy, and you'd be
surprised."
"I like watching you twist around." But he put one collar around
his neck before reaching for mine. Strong fingers brushed the nape
of my neck in ways that sent a shudder through my whole body.
You shouldn't knock neck sex until you've tried it.
But... "You're wearing my collar, Mulder." His nametag was
green, while mine was red. The colors had felt so appropriate for
us that I only remembered his color-blindness later. Though he
seemed to be able to see a difference in the two tags even without
our names engraved on them. His was a darker shade of color.
He gave me a grin so insolent he could have stolen it off my face.
"I know."
Something inside me ruptured. So we have strange and sappy
ideas of kink. Didn't stop me from swooping down and kissing
him breathless, bell jingling all the way. As I ground against him
again, I said, "How 'bout I sit on your lap while you stroke me?"
He answered by exhaling in a small explosion of breath before
unfastening his pants in a frenzy. I only helped by pulling back far
enough to let him. A little frustration did wonders for him.
Rhinestones flashed on my collar around his neck as he wiggled. I
didn't know if I'd be able to stand waiting much longer myself.
That was okay, because he tore my sweater off and hit a new speed
record for unbuckling my prosthetic arm before his hands went for
my pockets again.
"What else do you have in here?" he asked. "Besides the
obvious." He pulled out the condoms and tube of slick. "Always
prepared. You must have been a boy scout."
"The Russian version actually. I looked fetching in the little red
neckerchief."
Mulder moaned. "Don't I have enough dirty fantasies about you?"
"You can never have too many."
"Maybe, but this one doesn't have us doing this on the floor."
"Spoilsport." But I stood up. Mulder wasn't half as much fun if
you wrecked his back early in the evening.
I couldn't help snickering when he closed and locked the door. He
had half the conspiracy watching him jerk off on the couch and
shower for years, but he couldn't stand the thought of the
neighbors, what few he had left, maybe getting a peek. He
probably preferred not to think about it. Well, if his mental blind
spots got him through the day and didn't compromise me, who was
I to complain?
I didn't have the heart to tell him that anyone who tried to walk in
on us would be dead in minutes. I hated interruptions. So maybe a
closed door was a good thing.
Mulder shrugged off his coat and shirt in a fluid motion. Made me
wish I had two hands to applaud with so he could stick out his
tongue at me. Then we were all over one another again: kissing,
stroking, biting, squeezing... I tripped him onto the couch, and he
managed to get our pants off. Neither of us had much time or need
for prep. I was so damned ready. He got the condom on, while I
slicked myself up.
When I impaled myself on his cock, it felt... I couldn't find the
word that would nail it completely. Right. Perfect. Necessary?
Whichever, it felt so good that sparks traveled up my spine.
Pressure, burn, weight, friction—familiar, but never exactly the
same twice—all combined in the hard, fast thrusts of Mulder's hips.
I just about felt him at the back of my teeth.
His hands clenched on my hips, moving and guiding me, would
leave new bruises, but I marked him up too. It wasn't a pain thing
or a possession thing, just a part of the way we made one another
lose control. Two control freaks in... in love wouldn't have
worked any other way.
The low, throaty sounds of satisfaction he made matched mine. At
times like these the blankness melted from his face and liquefied
into pure pleasure. The light of the nearby lamp gleamed off his
eyes, teeth, bell, and rhinestones in small bursts of brilliance. I
loved to watch him. He smiled as I stroked myself in time to his
thrusts.
Our bells jangled out of time, so I started to move in a way that
would synchronize them. Soon, we were ringing together. Mulder
laughed and babbled, "You're insane, you're beautiful, Alex..."
Orgasm hit him in a wild rush, and he thrust upward in a way that
instantly brought me off. I vaguely heard the couch thump against
the wall and something crash, but I was too busy drowning in the
lightning thrumming through my body to care. When I came back
to myself, I was draped against his side, and he was stroking my
spine in slow strokes.
Sated, drained, I yawned and burrowed in closer. I'd gotten used
to waking up with him in the middle of the night for Round 2,
sometimes followed by Rounds 3, 4...
"I'd leave more often if I knew we'd have furniture-breaking sex
when I got back," he said as he kissed me.
I looked down at the floor and saw that we'd broken the lamp. I
smiled. One less thing to worry about. But Mulder stared at it.
"What?"
"Alex, that isn't my lamp."
No matter how much he pleaded, I refused to tell him why I was
laughing like a lunatic.
THE END
by Viridian5
Mulder would be home any minute now, and nothing would look
different or out of place. A little filler and paint had covered the
bullet holes in the walls. Paint scent lingered, but I could always
say I did some painting while he was gone. I doubt he'd notice the
new lamp; he hadn't noticed the carpet had been cleaned that last
time, and it had been filthy before the blood had marked it further.
