Alex Krycek found himself staring up into the face of the weirdest
character he'd seen for a long time. The man was ugly, extremely short and
rather oily looking, wearing a dirty knitted hat and mittens in spite of
the fact that it was high summer. He was carrying two mugs of steaming
coffee. The sight of him deprived Krycek of speech for a moment.
"Good Morning. I've made you some coffee."
Krycek felt a surge of panic. Could this extraordiinary creature be
working for Cancer Man, had they found him at last? Alex, he thought,
please, pull yourself together, since when does Cancer Man employ
evil-smelling, coffee making dwarves?
He found his voice. "Thanks." He moved over onto his back, lying still
and tense until he could discover what was going on. This was so weird.
The strange little man was obviously at home here. He put the coffee
mug on the table beside Alex and, uninvited, perched himself on the edge of the
bed. They stared at each other. Krycek decided he couldn't be dreaming. Not
even in he throes of the worst possible nightmare could his
subconscious create anything so hideous.
"How ya doing?" the little man said. He took a noisy slurp of coffee.
"He told us how beautiful your eyes were, but he didn't do them justice.
Astounding!"
Oh, I see, a sweet talking dwarf.
"He?" Krycek repeated, his voice thick from sleep.
"Mulder."
"Have we been introduced?" Krycek asked rather primly. Why was he
feeling more and more like a character in Alice in Wonderland?
The little man laughed. "Oh come on, you must know who I am."
Krycek shook his head. "I never forget a face and yours is certainly
unforgettable."
"I'm Frohike!"
"Oh, right!" Alex smiled, relaxing at once. He remembered Mulder's
colourful description of Frohike. At the time, he'd thought it was an invention
of Mulder's feverish imagination, but now he could see that it
certainly fit his visitor well. "I've heard a lot about you."
"None of it good, I'm sure." Frohike extended a mittened hand and
Krycek shook it gingerly. "Pleased to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."
He gave a suggestive leer.
Krycek decided not to react to it. "None of it good, I'm sure."
"Well, shall we say your publicity has been mixed. For quite some time
you were the Most Evil Thing To Walk The Earth, but now you seem to be the
Greatest Thing Since Sunflower Seeds. Frankly, we're bewildered by the change.
So we thought we'd check you out."
"We?" There were more people around like him?
"The Lone Gunmen. Surely you read our ground breaking magazine?"
Krycek looked blank. Frohike pulled some papers fron inside his leather
jacket and placed them beside the coffee cup. "Here, complimentary copy."
He took another loud slurp of coffee and sat staring at Alex
unselfconsciously, like someone studying an exhibit in a gallery. Krycek
felt naked under his scrutiny. Then he remembered he was naked. There was
also the pressing problem of a full bladder and an insistent erection that was
tenting the sheet impressively. Frohike's gaze travelled to it and stayed
there.
"I'm afraid you've missed Mulder," Krycek explained, trying to deflect
Frohike's absorbed attention. "He had to leave early this morning for a
meetiing."
"Seems like you're the one who's missing Mulder."
Krycek was surprised by the little man's bluntness, but he stared back
at him unflinchingly, making no effort to hide himself, unashamed of a healthy
sexual appetite. He expected Frohike to make a polite withdrawal into the
living room, leaving him to get up in peace, but the little man merely put down
his mug on the floor and moved further up the bed nearer to Krycek.
"Looks like you could use some help with that," Frohike said
nonchalantly.
Krycek could hardly believe what he was hearing. Frohike had the
audacity and confidence of Casanova, the aura of an outrageously handsome man
whom no-one could resist. "I can manage very well for myself," Krycek said
firmly.
"I have no doubt that you can. I've heard about your amazing talents."
He moved a little nearer. "But isn't it always nicer when someone does
it for you? Don't you think?"
Before Krycek could reply, Frohike had grabbed hold of his erection
through the sheet, taking the young man by surprise. It was a skilled, confident
grasp, one that knew what it was doing and what it wanted.
Krycek gave an involuntary gasp, his eyes widening in disbelief. He was
used to men finding him attractive, accustomed to being taken in a variety of
conditions and situations, but this little man had to be the most brazen of all
seducers. He would have laughed out loud, but Frohike's grip had serious
intentions and Krycek was easy prey to them.
"No," he breathed out for the sake of appearances. He was lying in
Mulder's bed, after all, and it was still warm from his body.
Frohike chuckled. "I don't think you mean that." He tightened his
grip, making Krycek gasp louder, grabbing at the bedclothes. It was a strange
sensation being held so intimately through the sheet and gave the act a clinical
distance, as if Frohike was a misbehaving doctor who retained his rubber gloves.
Krycek felt a wild guilty pleasure that surged in his
erection and made it buck excitedly in Frohike's hand. He wasn't
responsible, this was Mulder's wicked friend, what could he do?
Cautiously, illicitly, he pushed his hips up a little against Frohike's
hand. The friction caused by the cotton sheet and the little man's grip on
his penis was extraordinary and Krycek let out a moan.
Frohike's face lit up. "How very responsive you are. I'm really going
to enjoy this."
"Bastard," Krycek hissed, lifting his hips again.
Frohike increased his grip in answer. "You don't really mean that
either," he whispered. "You know you can make me stop whenever you want."
Krycek glared at him but remained silent. They began a slow
experimental rhythm, Krycek rocking his hips harder against Frohike's hand. He
moaned with every stroke and with every moan Frohike looked increasingly
lecherous, more and more pleased with himself. Krycek closed his eyes against
the sight, feeling guilty, denying responsiblility, blotting everything out but
the delicious sensations surrounding his erection.
Gradually their rhythm began to increase. It was hard to tell exactly
which of them was driving on the other. Frohike seemed lost in rapt
contemplation of the beautiful young man before him, moving so wantonly
under his touch, making him feel incredibly powerful. Alex was breaking
out in a sweat, moaning now almost continuously, not just his hips but his
whole body writhing hungrily under Frohike's hand, his legs wide apart in
total abandonment to his seducer. The pressure to climax was becoming
unbearable.
"Oh, what a sexy baby." Frohike's voice seemed a long way off.
"Mulder's a very fortunate man."
At the sound of Mulder's name, Krycek moaned even louder. He thought of
how he'd looked that morning, getting dressed in a frantic hurry, which was the
way Mulder always seemed to dress. It was Mulder's fault that he felt so horny.
If he hadn't overslept, then Alex could have had a good fucking that morning and
he wouldn't have let Frohike within shooting distance.
He shuddered violently under Frohike's hand. He needed so badly to
climax but he didn't entirely trust the little man—Mulder had called him
a pervert, he could be playing some kind of power game, intending to
abandon Krycek just before he came. But Alex needed him as much as he
distrusted him, needed his grip and the sensation of the material against
his erection.
"Oh God, Oh God." He hadn't meant to say anything, to give anything
away, but the guilt and the shame were evaporating fast and his burning need was
all that would soon be left.
"Come on, pretty baby, it's okay, let go."
So maybe he did mean to see it through, to go all the way. Krycek
couldn't hold back any longer. He gave a series of fervent thrusts into
Frohike's hand and then his whole body tensed. With a loud rigid sob he let
his orgasm take him over, screaming and riding it out unashamedly under the
litle man's grasp. He thrashed around on the bed, his fingers working
convulsively at the bedclothes. He didn't know what Frohike was doing,
what he was getting out of this, apart from some strange voyeuristic thrill, but
Krycek was beyond caring as he pumped load after load of semen
into the soaking sheet and into Frohike's hand. As the final spasms
of pleasure died away, he felt the little man withdraw his hand and Krycek
rolled groaning over onto his side, pushing the wet material between his
legs, his penis twitching against it in satisfaction. He struggled to get
his breathing under control.
"Wow," he heard Frohike say. His voice sounded even further away.
Krycek opened his eyes to find that he was now standing near the bedroom door.
He'd suddenly lost his Don Juan aura and seemed almost nervously shy. Alex had
the feeling that if he'd got the energy to say "Boo!", Frohike would have fled.
"Well you've checked me out," Krycek panted. "I guess you're going to
report back that I'm a slut."
"We knew that already," Frohike said cheerfully.
"What?" He lifted his head off the pillow.
"Mulder told us."
"Mulder?"
"Relax, he loves it, he thinks you're like someone out of his porn
movies come to life to make his dreams come true." Frohike gave him an awkward
smile. "Well, see you around. Nice knowing you, in the biblical sense of
course."
Krycek heard the front door slam shut and he was alone. If it hadn't
been for the magazine and mug of coffee on the bedside table, he might have
thought it was all some extraordinarily weird dream.
Teehee! Finis!
Why Comes Temptation but for Man to Meet
by Jane Symons
The sound of heavy footfalls in the bedroom woke him at once.
