I Don't Like Mondays
Fandom: The X-Files
Category/Rated: NC17
Year/Length: ~4515 words
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
Spoilers: Oh yeah - for Monday and probably other Krycek eps
Disclaimer: None of these boys are ours - no money made here - no copyright infringement intended.
Warning: The boys use a rather unusual lube ... Yeah, yeah, we know. Give us a break, eh? For the Fight Club/NickZone "Monday" challenge
Summary: Alternate ending to the Monday episode
Beta: Huge thank you to Teri for the quick and dirty beta
Distracted and rushed, Mulder didn't even notice the SUV parked right in front of the bank. With single-minded determination, he headed for the door. He hadn't much time, needed to get back to work.
As he reached for the handle of the heavy glass door, a soft voice reached his ears.
"Oh Mulderrrr."
Fuck. He'd know that voice anywhere. Slowly turning, he beheld his dearest enemy, Alex Krycek, leaning with indecent languor against the side of the black Jimmy with tinted windows.
"What?" He demanded impatiently. "What is it this time, Krycek?"
Krycek grinned. "You really don't want to go in there, Foxy. Trust me on this one - bad things will happen if you do."
"Like what?" Mulder sneered. "Will I get caught in a really long line of patrons? Or," he shuddered dramatically, "are they out of deposit slips?"
"Where's the trust, Mulder? Where's the 'I want to believe'? You really should brush up on those listening skills. I came especially to warn you about what was going to happen, and all you can do is mock? I'm hurt, Mulder. I'm cut to the quick." Krycek stretched, arching his spine to give Mulder a glimpse of toned belly from between jeans and T-shirt.
Mulder stopped in his tracks. The barefaced cheek of this man was almost too much for him to take. Grinding his teeth, and scowling, he turned back to face the man who seemed to want to single-handedly screw up his life.
"Krycek, I don't have time for this. If you have any information for me, write it down, put it in a letter and send it courtesy of US Mail... or call me on 1-800-Who Gives a Shit. That way I can devote my time to more deserving issues.
He reached forward to wipe the mocking sneer off the rat bastard's face, and froze when the aforementioned rat bastard seized him by the tie and hauled him in until they were nose to nose. "Unh... Get off me," was all he could think to say, faced with the intense stare in the huge green eyes.
"Mulder," Alex growled, "this is important. If you go in there you'll end up dead."
Mulder rolled his eyes. "Righto. Well, since you seem so very intent on stopping me..."
Thinking that Mulder was relenting; Krycek loosened his hold on that hideous tie. Jesus, couldn't Scully help the guy pick select slightly less jarring neckwear?
As soon as the hold on him slackened, Mulder jerked himself free and made a dash for the bank door. He almost made it, too.
But, the rat bastard grabbed him and spun him back around. "Mulder *don't* go into that bank. I'm telling you, you'll die."
Fuck this! Growling, Mulder threw a punch that connected with a satisfying crunch against Krycek's nose.
"Shit, Mulder. Why'd you have to go and do that? I'm trying to save your life here."
Mulder, whose fist was smarting, had cradled the affected hand, and was massaging it in an attempt to restore sensation to his fingers. Something in Krycek's voice seemed different, earnest, and he raised his eyes to the figure that still stood, mocking him by his refusal to leave him to his own devices.
"Look Krycek, this may come as something of a surprise to you, but some of us do have to earn a living, and I'm late for a budget meeting. Why don't you just say what you came to say, and let me get on with my day? I don't like Mondays anyway, and this one has been the worst I can remember." He folded his arms and stood before his ex-partner, surveying the damage that his fist had wrought on the too-pretty features.
"There's a guy in there with a bomb, Mulder. If you go in, you're gonna die, along with everyone else. Don't go in there." Krycek's voice was earnest. He ran his fingers over his top lip, wiping away the blood that had dripped down from his battered nose as he spoke, and a flicker of sympathy, soon quashed, shot through Mulder
"How do you know all this, Krycek?" Mulder moved forward to seize Krycek by the lapel and shook him as he spoke.
Krycek twisted out of Mulder's hold and instead of backing away, moved closer until they were toe to toe. "Ever watch Star Trek, Mulder?" He grinned maliciously. "What am I saying? Of course you have - probably have every episode memorized. Remember a little thing called a time-loop?"
Mulder sneered. "Uh huh. And I suppose the guy with the bomb is a Klingon."
"I'm serious Mulder, I've seen it - lived it - before. If you go in there you'll be shot. And you'll die."
"And this matters to you because..?"
"I - I care, that's all." The smoky voice breathed out of him as though he were trying to hold it back, and Mulder shivered in spite of himself.
"You care?" Mulder was jeering now. "Yeah, you care for your own skin. What's in it for you, Krycek? What aren't you telling me?" He grabbed both of Krycek's lapels and began to haul him towards the door of the bank. "Let's both get in there and find out, shall we?"
Seconds later, the gun muzzle pressed ungently against his belly gave him pause. Krycek was on the air again; the honeyed voice coated with steel this time.
"I've tried to be polite, but you don't do polite, do you, Mulder?" he sighed and jabbed the gun into Mulder's ribs. "No more Mr. Nice Guy. Put me down and get in the car."
"Fuck that, you little rat bastard," Mulder grated. "We both know you won't shoot me. You've had innumerable opportunities for that. If the object of this exercise is to keep me alive, the gun is a rather weak threat."
He shoved Krycek away and turned to enter the bank.
"Mulder..." Krycek said, grabbing his arm again.
It was too much. Dammit, he'd had more than enough of Krycek's weird little game. Spinning, he threw a punch to Krycek's solar plexus and, when the Russian doubled over in surprised pain, Mulder made a dash for the door.
"Jesus!" The expletive was cut short by a whoop for air, then Krycek leveled his gun, aiming and firing it a mere couple of inches from Mulder's feet. "Get in the car, Mulder, or the next bullet will go in your ass." The double agent picked himself up from the pavement and stood, still gasping, tears starting from his eyes. Despite his discomfort, the barrel of his gun did not waver.
Rolling his eyes, Mulder reluctantly stopped and turned back to Krycek. Seeing the implacable expression in his eyes, Mulder shrugged. "Fine, fine. We'll get in the damned car."
Warily, Krycek watched as Mulder walked to the car and climbed into the passenger seat. Keeping his gun trained on the man, Krycek walked around the front of the vehicle and got in behind the wheel.
"Now what?" Mulder asked.
"Now," hissed the irate ex-Feeb, "We move this fucking car out of the way of the blast." So saying, he started the engine and pulled away from the sidewalk into the stream of traffic. After a few minutes during which Mulder sat and fumed, and Krycek hummed jauntily as he drove, they pulled up on the opposite side of the street, at the mouth of a side street from which the bank was plainly visible.
"This will do. Wouldn't want you to miss the show, Mulder."
"Oh no," Mulder said sarcastically. I definitely don't want to miss this."
Then he started fidgeting. He turned the radio on and scanned the stations - twice - before deciding on NPR. Crossed his legs. Uncrossed them. Turned to look over at the bank. Turned to look back at Krycek. Searched his pockets for a hidden stash of sunflower seeds. Sighed when his search came up empty.
"Mulder!" Krycek snapped. "Will you for godssake settle down. Jesus, as many hours as you've spent on stakeouts, I'd think you could handle a few minutes in a car observing the bank."
"What did you mean, anyway?" Mulder, having tried the glove compartment, and found it locked, was out of ideas for things to fiddle with in Krycek's car. He turned his attention on the man who was sitting beside him, glowering with all the power of a thunderous sky.
"What are you talking about, Mulder? What do you mean, what do I mean?" Krycek's habitual mysterious half smile was unaccountably missing, replaced by a kind of suppressed anger and irritation.
"You said that you care. Are you going to tell me what it is that you care about, or are we just going to sit here and look at each other? Frankly, I'd rather go to my budget meeting." Mulder almost smiled. His words had surprised a swift flush from Krycek. Baiting the man was almost as much fun as punching him.
"You're important to the future, Mulder. I've told you that before," Krycek said in a curiously flat tone.
"Oh," Mulder mused. "Somehow I get the feeling that there's more to it than that, Krycek. This seems somehow... personal on your part. Tell me, why is my life so important to you?"
"Fuck you, Mulder."
"Ah - is that it? You want my lovely body, Krycek? Have you been lusting after me all these years?"
Fascinated, he watched as a slow tide of red rose over Krycek's cheekbones. "That *is* it, isn't it? You want me."
"I'm not the one that has to get up close and personal every chance we get," retorted the goaded Consortium spy. "I'm not the one that shoves me up against the telephones, or over the car, or whatever happens to be handy, just so I can rub my hard-on over me." His voice ran down with a peculiar wheeze as he suddenly realized how ludicrous his last protest was. "You're the one with the unfulfilled sexual urges, Mulder. You probably don't quite know how to get it on with a real live human being. Remind me to buy you a vinyl pal sometime."
Mulder's brow was creased in fury as he listened to the husky voice, goading him. This was too much. He racked his brain for something that would reassert his advantage, and having temporarily discarded diatribes about father slaying and partner abduction, he realized that there was only one thing for it.
With a faint grin on his face, Mulder leaned forward and kissed the astonished Krycek full on the mouth.
Against all of his instincts, Krycek tried to turn away from the insidious pleasure of Mulder's kiss. Mulder, however, was having none of that. He put his hands on either side of Alex's head to keep him still and ran his tongue along the line of the lips he'd been dreaming about for the past umpteen years.
Reluctantly, helplessly, Krycek opened for Mulder. Somehow his hand came to rest on one shoulder and he found himself hanging on for dear life as Mulder's tongue rampaged through his mouth, exploring every nook and cranny.
Horrified to hear a moan escape him, Krycek struggled to break away again. "Mulder," he gasped. "What the hell are you *doing*?"
"I thought that you said it was me that didn't know how to get it on with a real person. You disappoint me, Krycek." There was a distinct laugh in Mulder's voice as he drew back a tiny bit to survey the flustered object of his attentions. "That was a kiss. Here, I'll show you." Again, he crushed his mouth to Krycek's, his hand sliding through the short hair to pull his head in close.
Against his better judgement, Krycek gave in for several moments. Damn, Mulder knew how to kiss.
With and explosive move, Krycek climbed aboard the agent, straddling his lap and wrapping his arm firmly around Mulder's shoulders. When the need for air finally forced him to break the kiss, he leaned back and stared at Mulder with bemused eyes.
"Okay," he said breathlessly. "I was wrong. Apparently you *have* at some time been with a real live lover."
"I could just be a natural, Krycek. Many of the more esoteric editions of erotic literature assert that there are people who have a natural aptitude for...mmmpf" His words were swallowed by Krycek's mouth. Avid for a further taste of the delight provided by the propinquity of their mouths, Krycek eschewed words in favor of actions and achieved a liplock.
His hands slid around Mulder's body to delve beneath the suit jacket, and he began to pull Mulder's shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.
"Mmmm," Mulder hummed approvingly. "That's the spirit, Krycek."
He gasped when Krycek's hand slid under the fabric of his shirt, shivering at the touch of that callused hand on his bare flesh. Impatiently, he tugged at Alex's t-shirt, wanting, needing to touch him.
Panting, Krycek shrugged his jacket off and pulled the shirt over his head. He reached around and yanked Mulder's shirt open then leaned forward to press their chests together.
Gun forgotten now, Krycek moaned and drank the other man's mouth, sucking on the ripe lips, teasing the tongue with his own and shaking with the long release of pent-up desire so intense that he had forgotten its very existence.
Sitting astride Mulder's lap, he could feel a certain indication that Mulder was by no means averse to the attentions he was receiving, and as he wriggled to achieve a better position against the burgeoning evidence of Mulder's reciprocating lust, he heard a very definite moan escape from Mulder.
His hand slid down to caress said evidence and Mulder gasped and bucked under the touch.
"Alex," he sighed. "Yeah, that's good, touch me."
With a grin, Krycek unbuckled Mulder's belt and opened his trousers. "What's this? No shorts, Mulder? I'm shocked!"
"Laundry day tomorrow," Mulder answered distractedly as he unfastened Krycek's jeans. Pushing the heavy denim material out of his way, he took hold of the aching erection within.
Laundry? Mulder did laundry? Krycek shrugged, mentally. I guess he must do occasionally, he thought. It didn't seem important right at that moment. He sought and found the taut genitals, his knowing fingers running down the delicate skin as he explored the velvet and steel of the hard shaft.
Pressing his mouth against Mulder's once more, he allowed the sensations from what Mulder was doing to him to carry him away. He'd wanted this for so long that it seemed as if he were dreaming, and that Mulder's hand on his cock were yet another figment of his debased imagination, designed to provide relief enough to get him through yet another empty night.
"Lift up a little," Mulder instructed roughly.
Afraid that any argument might bring an end to this lovely dream, Krycek did as instructed. With trembling hands, Mulder yanked his jeans down far enough to gain free access to Krycek's genitals. One hand returned to his cock, the other moved lower and started rolling his heavy balls, stroking, caressing... and tickling.
For a second, Krycek had to fight the fit of giggles that threatened - then, that hand slipped lower, rubbing lightly along his perineum.
"Oh god, Mulder," he moaned. "What are you trying to do to me?"
That was a good question. Mulder wasn't sure. His hand froze on Krycek as he attempted to puzzle out what precisely he was doing. Opening his eyes for a second, he caught sight of Krycek, head thrown back in ecstasy to expose the strong, pale column of his throat, and felt his cock give a throb that announced his intent to the rest of his quivering body.
"Not trying anything," he mumbled. "I'm succeeding. I'm fucking you." He pulled Krycek within reach of his searching mouth and fastened sucking lips to the elegant neck. "Outside the fucking bank. I can't believe I'm doing this."
"Oh but Mulder, I thought you *wanted* to believe," Krycek moaned. "Fuck," he hissed, as Mulder increased the pressure on his tender skin. He groaned and clamped his hand on the back of Mulder's head, encouraging the almost painful attention his throat was receiving from that talented mouth.
"God, Mulder. I want you. Want you to fuck me so hard I can't sit down for a week."
Chuckling, Mulder tightened his grip on Krycek's penis. "I'm game. Don't suppose you have any lube hidden away in this car. For emergency purposes, of course."
"You've gotta be kidding me!" Krycek froze on Mulder's lap, and his brow furrowed, then cleared again to reveal an almost impish smile, one that made Mulder's heart beat double time, and caused the breath to catch in his throat.
Suddenly ducking, Alex Krycek bent to fumble beneath the seat, and finally came up with a can of Pennzoil, wrapped in a dirty rag. Rising again, red faced from his efforts, he displayed his find with a flourish.
"Thank the lord for car maintenance," he crowed, opening the lid.
"Hold on, Krycek. I'm not a V6 engine. I don't need my power enhanced, and there's nothing wrong with my transmission." Mulder eyed the can with a certain amount of unease.
"Nonsense," said Krycek, insistently. "It's gonna do your piston a world of good."
Not really believing that he was even considering this - sex with Krycek... in a *car* .... in broad daylight... using motor oil as a lube, Mulder shook his head in an effort to clear his muddied thoughts.
Then, Krycek smiled at him again and all rational thought fled. "Okay," he said huskily. "Fine."
Scooping out a generous amount of oil, Krycek started to slick him up. Some dim corner of Mulder brain was insistently nagging at him that there was something else he should be worried about...
"Shit," he gasped, arching into the slick hand. "Condom, Alex? We need..."
"M clean, Foxy. Not to worry."
"Yeah but... shouldn't you be asking me the same thing?" Mulder managed to say.
"Hell, Mulder - you can't get anything from jerking off - and we both know that you right hand has been your only lover for ages."
Satisfied that he'd covered every centimeter of Mulder's erection with oil, Krycek held up the can. "Give me your hand, Mulder. You have to get me ready now."
Oh lord. Mulder's face flushed with arousal and he held up his hand as requested.
The oil was heavy, almost sticky until warmed in Mulder's hand. Krycek recapped the container and then lay on the driver's seat and rose a little, trying to get Mulder to apply the unusual lubrication.
"Come on, Mulder, Let's go." His urgency was reflected in his eyes, half veiled by heavy lids, and dilated to blackness as the breath came from him in little, sharp puffs of air.
Mulder reached with his oily fingers to explore the crack between Krycek's buttocks, finding and piercing the tight hole that lay there.
"Oh yeah," Krycek moaned. "That's it, Mulder." He shifted his hips up, encouragingly. "More. I need more."
"Hold your horses, Krycek," Mulder murmured. "Just let me get you ready." A second finger joined the first and Krycek gasped and writhed under the assault. "Easy now," Mulder soothed. "Not much longer now."
With that single-minded intensity he was famed - or damned - for, Mulder worked his fingers, flexing them to loosen the muscle.
"Fuck, Mulder," Krycek complained. "Come on, already. You won't hurt me. I'm ready. Damn, I'm ready."
Twisting his fingers, Mulder found the hidden nub within Krycek's passage and grinned when the younger man gasped and bucked back in an attempt to further impale himself on the invading digits. "Okay," he whispered. "'M gonna fuck you now, Alex. Fuck you hard."
Beyond words at the promise, Krycek could only gasp out a garbled plea for speed at this point. When he felt the blunt cock pressing against his opening he hissed and pushed back impatiently.
Sinking into the furnace that was Krycek, Mulder felt his hands clutch tight to the triple agent's hips, heard his voice murmur endearments in a throaty voice that didn't quite sound like his, and wondered anew - for one brief second - whether he would be arrested for this, and if so, what the fuck he was going to do.
Then Alex Krycek writhed under of him, and he felt the sudden urgent need to fuck him as hard and as fast as would be humanly possible. Groaning, he began to move.
Krycek fought to remember to breathe. It - Mulder - felt so damned good. Perfect. Better than he'd ever imagined. Mulder adjusted his angle of entry slightly and Krycek gave a muffled scream as that wonderful invader brushed against his prostate, Bracing himself on his elbows, he began to answer Mulder's thrusts with increasingly desperate lunges.
"Damn, Mulder..." he gasped. "Oooh, yeah. That's it. So good. So fucking good."
Never having thought that this man would be quite so vocal in his pleasure, Mulder grinned. He reached down and closed his hand around Krycek's rock-hard cock and started stroking in time with his thrusts.
20/50 oil was apparently the perfect lubricant. Mulder found himself pistoning in and out of Krycek's depths, his cock sinking deep into the tight velvet of the other man's gut as he drove in hard. The tide of sensation rose rapidly, surging through him until he felt as taut as a bowstring, able only to fuck, and fuck, and push himself into the sleek hindquarters of his erstwhile enemy.
Grunting, he stroked the other's dick, feeling with satisfaction that the throbbing under his fingers indicated the approach of orgasm.
With each stroke, Krycek made a sound. He didn't normally make any noise at all during sex -not exactly safe in his line of work - but the unimaginable pleasure of having Mulder inside of him was just too much. He sighed. He grunted. He groaned. He moaned.
And didn't care. Couldn't care.
All that mattered was the pleasure. The thrill of finally getting Mulder.
God! He was being fucked by Fox Mulder!
Mulder increased his tempo, stroking him, inside and out, with a ferocity that should have been uncomfortable. Unable to resist, Krycek twisted his head around so that he could catch Mulder's lips with his own. The Agent opened for him with a throaty growl, sucking on his tongue desperately.
That was all she wrote; the Jericho walls tumbled. He screamed into Mulder's open mouth as his orgasm hit him with the force of a freight train.
Mulder was coming too, now. His body was locked into the desperately spasmodic flexes of the orgasmic, and his breath was coming in short gasps as he felt the tingling prickle of sexual ecstasy start it's inexorable rise along thigh and spine, and in toward the lightning rod that was the tip of his penis.
He felt the surge of it as he jammed his dick into the silky channel of Alex's ass. He felt a further surge as something threw him forward onto Alex, a roar as though a thousand voices were raised. Pitching across Alex, he came with a blinding intensity.
Krycek lay gasping for air under Mulder's surprisingly heavy body. Hell, the man didn't *look* so heavy. Finally, he shifted impatiently when Mulder showed no signs of movement.
"Hey," he grumbled. "You're not gonna fall asleep on me are you?"
Mulder slowly and laboriously clambered off of Krycek. "Shit, Alex! I swear to god I felt the earth move."
Smirking, Krycek sat up and started rearranging his clothes. A quick search located his t-shirt in the back seat - how the hell had it gotten *there*? He was in the process of pulling the shirt over his head when the sound of sirens reached his ears.
Headed this way.
Uh oh.
"Um... Mulder, I know I'm good, but in this case, I think the earth really *did* move."
Mulder frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about, Alex?"
"Unless I'm very much mistaken - which is highly doubtful - the bank blew up just as we did."
The bank? Oh no! Mulder scrabbled at his clothing, misaligning buttons and forgetting his zipper in his need to be out of the car. Stumbling out, followed by the grinning Krycek, he tottered across the road to elbow aside the crowd of rubberneckers who seemed to be gathering around the disaster like crows about a carcass.
A single figure, wobbling from side to side, caught his eye. The glasses were hung at a rakish angle from his ear, and his face was black, but there was a beatific smile on his face as he stood in front of the rubble that had been the bank.
Mulder rushed, as best he could, to Skinner's side. "Uh, sir?"
Skinner turned to smile at him in greeting. "Agent Mulder! What are you doing here?" His eyes slid past Mulder to Krycek. "And Krycek, too. Well, what are you boys up to today?"
"Sir," Mulder said tentatively, "maybe you'd better sit down. You look a little shocky."
"Nonsense," Skinner asserted heartily. "'M just fine."
Krycek grinned. "Mr. Skinner, that looks like a nasty bump on your head there. I think Agent Mulder is right for once." He put one hand on Skinner's arm and led him over to the curb. "Sit down here until the medics can take a look at you."
Shrugging, Skinner went along peacefully. "If you really think so."
Mulder cleared his throat. "Skinner, what are you doing here? What happened?"
Frowning, Skinner searched his memory. "Ah... Agent Scully sent me down. Said you were in some kind of danger or something." He looked up at Mulder and smiled. "Obviously she was wrong, you appear to be quite healthy. As does Alex."
Mulder's brain seemed to seize. What the hell had happened?
He met Krycek's eyes, to no avail. His new lover - his new lover?? - merely shrugged at him and made a vague gesture that signified he hadn't a clue.
Skinner sat gazing at him for another few seconds, and then wobbled and, still smiling, dropped silently at Mulder's feet.
Krycek bent down and felt for a pulse at Skinner's neck. "He's okay, Mulder. Must have taken one hell of a blow to the head, though."
More sirens could be heard approaching and Mulder sighed with relief when they proved to be attached to EMS vehicles. "Hey," he yelled to the first paramedic he saw. "This man needs attention. Head injury."
The med tech rushed over and started examining Skinner's prone form. "Concussion, I believe," he pronounced crisply after shining a light in each of Skinner's eyes.
Grumbling, the AD opened his eyes and stared up at Mulder in confusion. His gazed moved to Krycek and he nodded. "Krycek?"
Kneeling down, Krycek met Skinner's eyes. "Yeah, boss?"
"Make sure Mulder gets home safely, would you? He's had a rough day."
Grinning, Alex nodded enthusiastically. "You can count on me, sir."
The End
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