Title: Losing It
Disclaimer: characters (god help them) belong to CC and 1013 Productions.
Archive: Catacombs, RatB. Please ask!
Pairing: M/K slash, angst, h/c
Rating: NC-17, for m/m interaction, sex, Bondage and language.
Setting: Sometime after Biogenesis
Spoilers: up until then (Biog.) but before Requiem-season 7 end
Summary: Late night and Mulder’s musing how nice it would be to have Krycek at his mercy – but be
careful what you wish for…
Warning: This is pathetic, unredeemable PWP slashy schmoop. I don’t know *what* possessed me. I’m
sorry. [g] Also: beware POV change from Mulder-monologue in beginning to free-for-all narration…
Betas: beloved Cattnip (my love!) and Lauren (wild tigress!)
* * * * *
* * * * *
It’s nights like this that probably contribute to my reputation as a crank, a nerd, an oddball. Instead of ‘hittin
the clubs’ and getting a date, I’m sitting at home watching Godzilla.
Not that it’s a bad movie, not at all. I just wonder how many American citizens have dutifully filed into
cinemas, not knowing that they’re subjecting themselves to the programming of subliminal acclimatization
to reptilian forms. Mention Godzilla and everyone nods wisely. Talk about underground bases in New
Mexico and reptoids stalking Denver Airport and suddenly you’re a crazy freak threatening the status quo.
Christ, you’d think people would start to get it by now, what with all the ‘little gray’ hype. The dolls, the
inflatable chairs, the keychains and the matching tableware sets. The thing that made me laugh was the
little embryos in the eggs – gray hybrids in fluid – aimed at 6-year-olds for the last two Christmases.
Doesn’t exactly make great small talk either; I’ve yet to find anyone who wants to discuss even
hypothetically the existence of multi-species visitations in a coherent fashion over dinner. Or even after
dinner. Let alone a bar. No one. Male *or* female. Come to think of it, when was the last time I had a
date? Hm, let’s see. Jesus, the last person to kiss me was Krycek… There’s something ironic about that.
Bastard. That goddamned lying rat-bastard traitor. And coward; he never comes clean with me. Always
slinks away after dangling carrots in front of me and snatching them away when I reach out for them.
Throws crumbs in my direction occasionally. The cryptic, self-serving, rat. Funny, I can actually say that
without anger, matter-of-fact. Because it is a fact. Sometimes he looks more like a devil, actually. Or a
wild animal. Like most killers, I suppose one has to know how to handle him. Unlike setting a pack of
hounds on a scent, letting him on the trail is like letting a panther loose. Impossible to corral; the work is
done viciously, efficiently, and once he’s done the job, he slinks off into the woods and can’t be found.
I like the cat metaphor, especially because afterwards one can count on him to be a sort of global slut
selling the secrets of the ones who hired him to the people he just screwed over. Interesting philosophy, to
remain on the fence and actually run up and down it pimping his own soul for both sides. I wonder how he
can consider himself a survivor when he keeps going back and forth like that. After a while, no one will trust
him. As if they do now. God, I just hope I’m there when he falls!
Cats always land on their feet, though. And he has the same cocky swagger that alley toms have.
I sometimes wonder what it would be like to tame him. There’s a fascinating thought: the green-eyed
panther, seduced. Leashed. Reduced to a lazy cat with a collar, draped beside me, purring, his
hypothetical tail twitching – just the tip. Wouldn’t expect he’d ever lose the alertness, still… It’d be worth it.
Demonic felines possessing unconscious beauty and grace are usually wild and I have the undeniable
hunch that cracking a whip and brandishing a collar is *not* the way to go. That’s the other thing about
cats – don’t corner them. Fuck, when did I start thinking he had beauty? Oh well. He does, I guess. Not
ethically, not his character. It’s in the way he moves. The same amoral beauty as a carnivore who takes
pleasure in being a successful killer. An evil that is fascinating because of its essential nature – one has to
wonder how such a beast can live with itself, without mercy. The same kind of fascination a mouse must
feel, to know it’s being stalked by such an unstoppable, deadly creature intent on killing *it*. All that
single-minded attention is flattering until one realizes one is being eaten alive.
Such a wary creature; one would have to lull him into a false sense of safety just to get him to stop
prowling. And to be able to get close enough to touch him? Once bitten, twice-shy; he’ll always be wary
with me, now. I’ve struck him too many times for him to do anything but sneer if he thinks I’m trying
anything. No, to domesticate someone this wild I’ll have to find a way to make him actually want to come
near, to believe that it’s his decision. How to lure him when he is himself adept at luring *and* a skillful
hunter, to boot? ‘Curiosity will catch the cat.’ Not quite the phrase but adapted to fit the circumstance. I
need to create a situation that he can’t resist; one that’ll draw him in before he realizes it’s a trap.
I won’t be able to get a decent discussion or any kind of ‘truth’ out of him unless he actually believes that
I’m not in charge of the situation. That’s it; make him believe that he’s the one holding the reins. If I just
knew what his weakness is. It’d be easy. All cats have an Achilles heel – grab em’ by the scruff of the
neck and they get the message. Not that I’d trust him anymore than I would trust a real feral cat. Just as
selfish, high-strung and dangerous. I’ll have to have someone cover my back – the Lone Gunmen are
probably my best bet. Krycek is resourceful but even he isn’t as tapped into the same variety of paranoid
genius that those three are… Jesus, when did this become my latest project and not just a speculation?
But it is so tempting. I have had to put up with that bastard waving tantalizing pieces of the puzzle in my
face for so long. So unfair, that he should have access to the answers. I could’ve had them, but at what
cost? He chose them over humanity, conscience and integrity. I can’t do that. I won’t. And strangely, I get
the feeling that he’s just as aware of it as I am; that he has a begrudging respect for me because of it.
I could do it. I could find a way to lure him in, set him up and trap him. This is starting to sound more
plausible and worse, imperative. He mustn’t get the slightest suspicion I was even involved, for it to work.
He thinks I’m naïve, that I can’t track him because he’s always tracking me, for Them. It doesn’t take a
genius to figure out that I don’t much care anymore. My apartment might as well be the intelligence
community switchboard for all the bugs and wiretaps I get all the time. And the traffic – you’d think it’s Spy
Central, it’s a joke; they come and go and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Now I know just how much I have been wanting this. God, the simple sight of just seeing him trapped.
There, in front of me, unable to furtively scurry back into the woodwork. I wouldn’t let him slip out of my
hands this time. It would be so worth it. To see him there, cuffed, literally at my mercy, after all these
years. To see him squirm and have to – to – give me answers, tell me the truth… no pain. I wouldn’t use
pain to drag it out of him. It’s not like I want to torture him or anything. I’d find some alternative…
something that means something to him…find his weakness, use it against him and watch him break,
crumble before me, begging me… in that oh-so-believable liar’s voice…
Before I realize it, I’m coming and it’s racing over me, fast. I jerk helplessly in the throes of it, my hand
working my cock hard enough to experience little flashes of light behind my eyes. God, that was a *good*
one. A faint warning voice echoes in the back of my mind at this. I ruthlessly squash it; I don’t need any
more guilt trips than I already have. I’ve been through so many scenarios in jerk-off sessions. This is
different; the promise of psychological fulfillment, a sense of closure and completion is what drives this
fantasy. I’m grinning as I absently clean myself up with the towel that is handily lying beside the couch. I
can’t help it, because this is one that I’m going to get. I *will* get him.
Besides, it was his fault, the bastard, for kissing me that night. He breaks in, attacks me, pulls my own gun
on me, tosses me obscure and disturbing tidings – the son of a bitch actually has the nerve to berate me for
not ‘believing’ in the Lie anymore – what am I, do I look like a torch-bearer? - and then to finish it off, he
kisses me on the cheek. I guess I’m supposed to believe it’s a comradely gesture, a cultural thing… but
come on, who are we kidding. It was a real smacker. I mean, any harder and he would’ve left a bruise, or
I’d’ve bit my tongue or something. My cheek burned for hours afterwards, with the imprint of his lips. And
– what was with giving me back my gun? Of course, I was stunned at that point and really couldn’t register
enough of the situation to think of apprehending him. Seemed kind of beside the point. He was right; it did
get my attention. For one of my deadliest enemies, a man who knows how much I despise him, to come to
me and say all that - Well, it made me rethink the conclusions I’d come to.
And not just about the Consortium and the War. Like, why didn’t he kiss me on the mouth? And did I want
him to? What might’ve happened if he had? Why did he do it in the first place? What would I do if I had the
opportunity to return the favor… A surge of regret goes through me at this thought. Why? Oh, wait. That
was just that little voice again, reminding me that all this might be taking place only in my head. That he
might not have meant anything deep or serious by it, that he really was fucking with my mind. Oh, well.
What was I…
Yeah, the rat-bastard; right. Thanks to him, here I am getting off on the thought of what it would be like to
have him tied up and at my disposal, awaiting whatever I decide is just-desserts for a traitorous scum-bag
son-of-a-bitch Consortium thug. I’d just like the option, you know? I wouldn’t pull the trigger; unless
someone was spiking my drinking water again. I laugh aloud at this thought. After that whole thing had
blown over, I distinctly remember feeling sharp regret that Scully had stopped me from ridding the world of
one Alex rat-bastard Krycek. Now I’m not so sure I want him dead. I want the truth. Truth is something
that he doesn’t value or feel like imparting to me unless it’s tangled up in conspiratorial disinformation.
Which sort of makes that kiss look even more suspect.
I guess what I really want isn’t the Truth, so much as a simple *answer* that makes sense. I want to know
what he meant by it. I want to know if he was just fucking around with my head or if he has ‘issues’. I sort
of remember getting a vibe off him back when we were partners…
Well, nah. To be honest, if there was I only noticed it in passing and it really wasn’t important anyway.
Still, that day at the pool when he came to tell me that Duane Barry had flipped – I remember his gaze slid.
Inadvertently; it happens. In locker rooms, where athletes, swimmers and sportsmen congregate… But
come to think of it, why doesn’t he ever try to fight back? He always takes a defensive position…he’s had
opportunities to hit me back and never done it. Maybe I’m an idiot. He probably could have killed me
several times over, the number of times I’ve lost control and gone for him. I can’t help it, it’s like this
suffering side of me, of my memory, it rears up and suddenly I just want to have my hands on his neck.
Which means he must have some reason for *not* killing me. I want to know why that is, too. If he toys
with me. That makes me feel like he’s been patronizing me, humoring me. I hate this. I’m gonna nail that
son of a bitch; I will find out. I’ll make him tell me.
Damn it, here I am; I’ve already come tonight, and I’m still thinking about him. Godzilla was a bad idea.
Should’ve stuck to porn. Usually I can sleep afterwards. Still caught up in it. It’s him, thinking of *him*
that’s doing this. Bastard. That little warning voice is muttering something about sublimation. I’m telling it
to shut up, even as I drift off, smiling at how I can set this up. ‘Gonna get you, sucka’…
* * * * *
A few weeks later…
* * * * *
Alex awoke with a strange, metallic taste in his mouth; it wasn’t blood. His head was pounding and he
didn’t have a clue where he was. Nothing around him looked familiar. In fact, it all looked shady and
indistinct. He couldn’t focus properly. Then he remembered; he was sick. He should never have gone to
that rendezvous with a fever. //Knew I should’ve stayed in bed… // But he didn’t know how he’d got here
from that lab complex. It worried him.
Scully came into the room and stood over him by his bedside. He knew it was her, despite the fuzziness
as his eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the light. Her voice was unmistakable. Blinking, he tried to understand
what she was saying. He couldn’t move. He tried desperately to tell her that he was too hot and that his
chest hurt. She reached down – he expected her to hit him. The cool hand she placed on his forehead, and
then her wrist, was confusing but good. Such a relief. He was burning all over. He relaxed, and wanted to
try to move into a more comfortable position but a slight prick in his arm was soon followed by welcome
* * * * * *
Mulder sat in the two-seater sofa staring at the weather broadcast. Rain and more rain. Scully appeared at
his side. “Mulder, we need to talk.”
He looked up at her, wondering at her tone. “Why? What is it?”
She took a breath. “He has two broken ribs, a flesh-wound on his left thigh where a bullet grazed him, and
a missing arm. I had no idea about that, you could have warned me. I can only assume it happened in
Siberia. After what you told me about the local people’s precautions against the tests conducted there, I
guess he wasn’t as lucky as you were. It was a very messy job. He’s also running a fever. He had it before
and his injuries have complicated his condition. God only knows what he was doing there at the lab facility.
He should have been in bed.”
Mulder shrugged. “Doesn’t sound too serious. Well, except for the arm – is there something you can do?”
She paused. “Whoever it was, they probably did it without anesthetic.” Mulder winced. “I’ve taped his
chest and given him a shot of morphine. Also some anti-inflammatories, and I’ve patched up the leg. But
his arm - it happened too long ago for me to do anything for it now. His fever is high and we’ll just have to
wait for it to break. He needs fluids. I don’t think we should move him until he’s had a chance to recover. It
might take longer; with mild dehydration, a temperature, and the injuries he sustained, it might compromise
his recovery. As it is, he needs a week at the very least.” She stopped.
Mulder regarded her. “What is it? Come on, Scully, what is it you’re not telling me?”
She sat down in the big armchair and reveled in the comfort of a soft seat and the warm fire. After surviving
being caught in the crossfire of a firefight, fussing over Alex Krycek (of all people) and spending the night
driving for hours with Mulder to this godforsaken wilderness retreat, this was wonderfully welcome. The only
thing that made this escapade worth it at all was they’d managed to grab the material Krycek’s contact
handed to him just before the ambush. “He’s delirious. He keeps drifting back and forth between Russian
and English. I can’t be sure what he’s saying but from what I can tell, he’s suffering from some form of past
trauma; an old one. It sounds like claustrophobia but I get the feeling there are more sinister elements
involved, something related to the Smoking Man and the Black Cancer.” She looked at the fire.
“What else is he saying?” Mulder prompted her.
She looked back up at him. “He’s not exactly spouting dark secrets and valuable information, if that’s what
you’re wondering. But he was very concerned about you being here. He hasn’t seen you yet, I guess he
assumes you’re here because I am. At one point he seemed almost lucid, he grabbed my arm and made
me promise ‘not to tell you’. ‘Don’t tell Mulder’, he kept saying. Although what it is I’m not supposed to tell
you is a mystery. Maybe because I can’t understand the Russian he’s using.”
Mulder scowled. “I have a pretty good idea what it is.”
Scully’s brows lifted. “I don’t think you do. He keeps ranting that you hate him –“
“He’s right about that.”
“- and keeps saying ‘Please don’t hit me’, and ‘don’t let him hit me anymore’.” She looked at him with a
knowing expression, almost smug. His temper was not one of his more positive traits, particularly where
this known traitor and criminal was concerned. She’d tried to talk to him about it before they arrived but he
was distracted with driving and they were both preoccupied and tired. “I think you’ve made an impression
on him, Mulder.”
Mulder’s eyes slid away from the accusation in her gaze. “Scully, come on. I’m not going to give him what
he deserves while he’s lying there defenseless. Not after all your hard work fixing him up. I’ll wait until he’s
better and then we can settle it outside –“
“Mulder…” Scully’s long-suffering and plaintive sigh was so familiar.
“Okay, okay. We’ll talk about it later. Tell him I’m not going to hit him.”
“I can’t, he’s delirious. You can tell him yourself when his fever breaks. We need more bandages and
morphine and I need coffee. Think you could get those? It’s only twelve miles and you’ve had sleep. I
haven’t.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
“I’ll go in the morning. You need to get some rest.” Mulder was suddenly solicitous. “I’ll take over for a
Scully’s eyes snapped open. “Actually, I wonder if that’s such a good idea. You two aren’t on good terms
and while the Hippocratic oath doesn’t exactly cover the inadvertent disclosure of intelligence by feverish
double agents, you probably shouldn’t hear it, at least yet. Some of it sounds personal. You’re already too
personally involved. You’ll just shoot him and he’s more valuable alive. Besides, you still haven’t explained
to me why we were there at that rendezvous point when you obviously knew Krycek was going to be there.
They didn’t tail us, they didn’t follow him; so how did they know he was going to be there? I’m concerned.
Whoever sent you the tip may have set up Krycek and the contact, *and* you.”
“Scully, I’m surprised at you. He’s a Syndicate lackey. This kind of thing is par for the course where he’s
concerned. And I’m also kind of surprised you’re taking his side – “
“I’m hardly taking his side, Mulder.”
“ - this man killed my father, was involved in the murder of your sister, and that’s just a count of two in the
long, long list – look, anything we can find out is worth something. Maybe we could translate some of the
Russian. Couldn’t you get any words?”
She looked uncomfortable. “Actually, I did. But I want to look up the translations myself. In fact, you could
add that to the shopping list – coffee, milk, some things for breakfast, in fact, food. Not just doughnuts,
either.” She shot him a look. “Morphine and a Russian-to-English dictionary. We can’t risk going on-line
or calling anyone from here just now. Oh, and some more bandages.”
“I’ll throw in leg irons and thumb screws too, just in case.” He grinned at her expression.
“Mulder…” Scully didn’t even bother raising her head.
“Just kidding. I meant condoms and lube, of course.” He waited until he got to the door to say it, though.
“Better make it duct tape, Mulder. I’ll be using it on you.”
“Why, Scully. I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you. Personally, I don’t think you’d go through with
it – but if you change your mind, I prefer cuffs.” He pulled on his coat and grabbed the keys.
Scully replied nonchalantly, “My cuffs are on Krycek, just now. And the duct tape is for your mouth.”
Perhaps it was the hours of travel and the stress and tension releasing from the earlier confrontation in the
ambush but Scully was treated to the rare instance of Mulder actually lost for words. He grinned but he
didn’t make a comeback. He was tired. He merely said, “I called Skinner before we left and appraised him
of the situation. He knows we’re incommunicado for a couple more days. He said that under no
circumstances are we to present him with any hotel expenses.”
“He should get quite a surprise when we actually return without any, then,” she said, grinning back at him.
She was grateful that Mulder had this hideaway tucked out of sight of the rest of America’s finest federal
agencies, however. It should take anyone looking for them at least five to six days before they caught up
She smiled at having the last word as the door closed behind him. And then remembered Krycek. If she
was right about him, Mulder *was* going to kill him this time. She sighed. Why was she always having to
intervene and step between them, shielding the man from Mulder’s inability to control himself? She needed
two sets of cuffs, one of them for Mulder. That was an idea. Restrain them both and then referee the
ensuing match… and threaten them with gags if they didn’t conduct themselves properly… Could be
interesting. It could certainly prove to be diverting. She shook her head as she heard him slamming the car
door. Why couldn’t Mulder see the rather obvious way that Krycek responded to him? Or the inherent
reciprocation of his own behavior in the way he always responded so violently to the younger man? Men,
she sighed to herself.
* * * * *
Alex found himself stirring, trying to wake up. When he opened his eyes they felt dry. He tried to swallow
and found his mouth so dry he couldn’t. Someone was offering him water, which he took gratefully. His
chest hurt. He remembered that from before and frowned. He couldn’t move his arm from up above his
head, it was fastened - with something metal. He froze.
“How’re you feeling?” Oh yeah, Scully. He remembered. She was sitting on the edge of the bed. And
behind her, standing near the doorway looking arrogantly healthy, was Mulder.
//Shit, oh shit.// Alex closed his eyes and stirred slightly, pain shooting through him at the motion. When
he opened his eyes again, he carefully kept them anywhere but at the two of them. Scully he could barely
tolerate on his good days; to have to deal with both of them at once, given all that he’d been through so far,
well. He was screwed.
“Krycek. Welcome back to the land of the living.” Mulder’s careless tone was noncommittal, but neither
was it sarcastic.
“Where are we, exactly?” Alex was appalled at the weakness of his voice.
“Safe, for now. This place is pretty unknown and out of the way.” Scully felt his forehead. “Your
temperature is going down. Your fever broke last night.”
“H-how long - ?”
“Three days. You’ve been in and out. What’s the last thing you remember?”
He frowned, trying to get his bearings. “Uh, the ambush and Hafsten drawing his gun on me. I think I got
two of them before they hit me with that car. Hafsten?”
“He’s dead,” said Mulder. “Who were they? Enemies of yours? Or friends of his?”
There was a pregnant pause as Alex didn’t look at him. “How do you feel?” Scully repeated.
Alex didn’t reply, silently assessing. She was waiting, peering over him like a bird. “Tired,” he conceded.
“You have two broken ribs and some bruising, a fever that I’m sure you already knew about, Hafsten’s bullet
grazed your leg and, if you aren’t careful, that illness you have will relapse. You’re staying put.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t help but notice that,” Alex stated wryly, lifting his wrist that was held up and back by the
cuffs that attached him to the rail behind his head. “So what happens now?”
“You stay put,” said Mulder.
Alex considered both of them. “And after?”
“Don’t worry, we’re not going to do anything just now. Let’s just concentrate on getting you better, okay?
You need rest and you shouldn’t be moved, so no travel.” Scully was cool and detached but somehow her
words did help relieve his fears that Mulder would jump him.
“Any ideas as to who ambushed us?” Mulder asked, quietly.
“No more than as to who tipped you off that I would be there,” retorted Alex.
“Enough, we can do this later,” said Scully, firmly. “You need to eat, and then rest. You’ll need to wash,
too. And we’ll have to get some things from town.” She got up and went to the door.
“Dana,” he called. Scully stopped, surprised. “Thank you”, he said gravely, the sincerity apparent in his
She nodded at him once, accepting this at face value. “You’re welcome.” She left the room.
Mulder stood with his arms folded, regarding him as if he were a trapped animal. Which he was, really.
Mulder caught his eye and held it. “How’s the leg feeling? I saw you take that one, back there.”
Alex let his eyes casually slide away to regard the window, ignoring him.
“You might be interested to know that we have the documents, too. They weren’t lost, in case you were
Alex’s silence was eloquent.
Mulder found himself forcing down the impulse to stride to the bed and demand the man talk to him…
Admittedly, he’d never factored a battered and damaged prey; still, this was the closest he’d ever got. The
tip he’d received that Krycek would be meeting a contact at that deserted lab complex had come out of the
blue and of course his curiosity had insisted that they check it out. The possibilities of either apprehending
Krycek, following a source of his, identifying another Syndicate face, or even getting an idea of what was
going on, were irresistible. He’d never wanted this outcome. It was inconvenient to Scully and himself, and
in fact, he’d grown so accustomed to Krycek surviving the odds that he’d been shaken to find Scully and
himself peeling him unconscious and bleeding off the concrete.
There had been a set-up, Krycek had only been implicated, Mulder was certain; Hafsten had to have been
the one who’d been ambushed. The fact that the contact had panicked and turned on Krycek would have
cost him his life if they’d not been there. They had saved his life, bailed him out and brought him here for
proper medical attention and safety during his recovery. That should count for at least a few answers. So
far, they hadn’t threatened him. Mulder was growing tired of that cold, hard expression that spoke of
Krycek’s indifference to anything he said. He was about to subject him to a suitably caustic remark when it
Pride – that was why he was refusing to cooperate. Mulder considered this. It made sense; in his position
he’d hardly be happy to have to be grateful. Christ, in his position he’d be fucking terrified. Considering
their relationship, Krycek had good reason to be afraid. Finally, after years of aggravation, he was his
prisoner. Mulder was unable to enjoy it as much as he thought he would.
He felt a twinge of guilt. This situation was far too similar to the thoughts he’d indulged in, before.
Somehow, knowing this was his fantasy brought to living reality didn’t make it easier to deal with. This was
a perfect opportunity to break him, break down those ice walls and expose the man’s motives, his
intentions, even his weaknesses. Why the hell was his conscience deciding to kick in *now*, just when he
had the rat-bastard where he wanted him? Hell, most of the time he could barely keep his fists from flying.
And here he was sympathizing with the rat? With an absent frown, he looked back over at Krycek.
His eyes were wide and utterly dark and, despite his stony attitude, Krycek appeared tense. Yeah, he’s
scared, Mulder thought. But of what? He’d already made it clear that he wasn’t going to strike him, and
that he’d be safe with them for a while. They weren’t going to admit him to a hospital and Scully had
already spoken with him about his condition. And the safehouse they were in was relatively new, probably
undiscoverable – at least until he recovered to the point of being fit to travel. Of course, Krycek would be
wary as he’d been so frequently at the receiving end of his temper.
Krycek still had answers to questions Mulder wouldn’t let go of until he’d got them from him. Mulder knew
Krycek was aware he’d want to question him while he was still in their power. But there was something
else, something in the way Krycek was behaving. Krycek’s careful, respectful attitude towards Scully, his
gratitude for her help. Sure, Scully was a doctor and felt obliged to help him. She had even shot Mulder
when he’d been about to pull the trigger on Krycek. There was of course the little matter of the fact it’d
been the same gun that killed his father, but still. And there it was; Krycek hoped to appeal to Scully’s
sense of justice to protect him from Mulder, hoped to make an ally of her as far as he could.
Mulder cleared his throat. “You’re safe for now. We’re hardly going to put a bullet in your head and dump
you in the river.”
“You’re a real humanitarian. Although I gotta say, it’s kind of weird to find Scully playing Florence
Nightingale on my behalf.”
“You know, Krycek; it’s possible that whoever set you and Hafsten up wasn’t the same guy who tipped me
off. If we hadn’t shown up, they would have got you.”
“I’m well aware of that, Mulder. There’s no telling who did. But Hafsten was a CIA operative who was
dealing with the Tunisian government on the side. He was supposed to be giving me reports from the
research facility there. We knew someone had been compromising our exchanges. He was never meant to
give them to me in the first place, I’d intercepted him. It was a bonus; he didn’t even know who I was
working for. I was there to find the leak to the CIA.”
“Then the CIA cut him loose. Great. Were those CIA that jumped you, then?”
“Pretty good guess, I’d say. Though it’s hard to tell. I can think of several groups who might want me out of
“Well, thanks a lot. Inter-agency incidents, and Scully and I now have a week’s ‘leave of absence’
disappearing-act. We’re calling it in as sick leave. Apt, when you think about it. We’re spending the whole
time playing nursemaid.”
“Lucky you. And you get to apprehend me at the same time. Looks like you got a bargain,” Alex said,
bitterly. “So, what – you patch me up and wait until I’m better to put me on the rack? Come on, *Fox*, I
know you’re just dying to start with the interrogation.”
Turning back to him, Mulder addressed him in a voice devoid of sarcasm or threat. “Look, you can be a
good patient or you can be a pain in the ass. I don’t think Scully will let you get away with *that* so you
might want to stay on her good side.”
Krycek’s only answer was a slightly dismissive glance. He looked pale and also as if he were straining to
keep himself together. Krycek was tight-lipped and sarcastically cryptic most of the time; a sulking
Krycek-invalid was bound to be even more infuriating and less forthcoming. Besides, beating the answers
out of him wasn’t really an option, since Scully would have his head if Krycek showed new bruises or signs
of a relapse because of him. Pushing the frustration away until later, he turned and left the room.
//*Fuck*//, Alex thought, vehemently. His head was pounding so loudly he almost felt ill. His heart was
beating faster than before and he’d broken out into a sweat from the tension at having to keep himself from
breaking down in the man’s presence. He shivered, trying to fight off the dizzy combination of nausea and
fear, the anxiety that Mulder would discover the full extent of the state he was in, as well as the shame that
gripped him for Mulder to see him like this. Being in the same room with him made him feel clumsy and
awkward at the best of times. This was a hundred times worse. He was naked under the bedcovers,
bruised and with what felt like several broken ribs rather than the two Scully had told him he had. He felt
like utter shit. He *felt* like he’d been run over, but then, he had, hadn’t he? He almost laughed before he
remembered the excruciating pain that lanced him every time he took anything more than a shallow breath.
He’d have to ask them for help if he needed anything at all; and he was utterly dependent on Mulder’s
temper. He was handcuffed by his good arm to the fucking bedrail and his clothes were nowhere in sight.
And he felt exposed, although Scully had kindly covered his left side for him up to his neck with the sheets.
Talk about trying to break someone by stripping them of dignity. He couldn’t even see where his prosthetic
was. His chest hurt like a son of a bitch and he could feel the accumulation of days’ worth of laying in the
same bed sticking to his skin – he desperately wanted a shower. And to relieve the slight itch of his nose.
Fuck, now other parts of him itched, innocuous areas like his knee, the bandage on his left leg, his ear.
Desperately, he turned his head and rubbed it against his shoulder. The action hurt his chest. He
shuddered at the thought of trying to sit up unassisted. He knew the bruises were worse than Scully had
said. Felt more like he’d been crushed under that car rather than just knocked down…
Then it occurred to him: which was worse? Asking Scully to help him shower, or Mulder? Neither option
appealed to him at all. In fact, he couldn’t get up at all like this. They’d have to wash him… Oh fucking
hell. A spasm of fear curled in his stomach. He could take this from *anyone* but Mulder. Of all the
people to have finally caught up with him, in all the fuck-ups that could have happened. He wished he
hadn’t shown up for that meeting: aggravated flu symptoms, a betrayal, a set-up, and the memory of
blacking out as something hard hit him from the side knocking the wind out of him. He’d been lucky it had
been a glancing blow. He hadn’t even seen or heard the car approaching as the bullet had torn against his
leg and he started to go down; damn Hafsten, anyway! He was glad the panicking operative had bought it.
Treacherous *and* unprofessional… Hm. What was he doing here under Mulder’s power then, himself. If
Mulder didn’t hit him, he’d do it himself when he escaped. If he managed to. He deserved everything that
transpired here, for misjudging the situation so completely; not to mention for ignoring his initial instincts to
The sheer exhaustion and pain was enough to resign him to at least a week in hell. He knew Mulder wasn’t
going to let him get away if he could help it. The only thing he could count on was a miscalculation on
Mulder’s part, if Mulder was blinded by his emotions and caught off-guard in anger to make one mistake.
And he’d have to not be cuffed to the goddamn bed if he were to take advantage of it. The cold sickening
reality of it was too much and he almost started to feel the panic well up again, of feeling trapped… and that
suffocating fear of abandonment.
Shaking, he focused on the pale light of the window, a cold and diffuse white as the sky was thick and gray
outside. Forcing himself to take even breaths, testing the ache in his chest, he willed himself to stay calm.
He didn’t think Scully would allow Mulder to rough him up. Still, if she went out…he tried to assess his
options. They were frightful. For it to come to this: being utterly dependent on Dana Scully, who had too
many reasons to hate him as much as Mulder did. He couldn’t think. He still felt delirious.
There were muffled voices downstairs as the two of them talked and occasionally she had raised her voice.
He couldn’t tell what had been said though. Nearly half an hour passed before Scully returned. She came
in and said, “I’m going out to get supplies. Then I’ll give you something to eat.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Could you at least uncuff me?” He was surprised how rough his voice still
sounded, as though he’d been hoarsely talking for hours.
She regarded him. “I only cuffed you when you showed signs of waking up. Hardly time to panic, I think.
You’ve been here three days and nights without them. It’s the only way I can be sure you’re going to rest.”
“Come on, I can barely move; I can’t get anywhere like this,” he scoffed, worried.
“No, you can’t. And I’m going to make sure that you don’t. This is your body’s way of telling you to take a
break, Krycek. Listen to it; it knows more than you do.”
“No need to be condescending.”
“And don’t pout; Mulder does it much better than you do. If you insist, you ought to get him to give you
lessons. You’ll have plenty of time to practice sticking out your lower lip – just make sure you don’t make it
too tempting a target for him. Those cuffs stay on until I say so. I know you well enough, Krycek. You’ll
drag yourself out of here even if every bone is broken; we can’t afford to take the chance.”
Alex didn’t answer, but his eyes flashed. She left knowing he was majorly pissed. She shook her head. He
was like Mulder sometimes; didn’t know what was good for him. Maybe it’s a guy-thing, she thought.
Alex watched her leave and then turned his head to lean it slightly against his right arm. This time, he
couldn’t quite stifle the despair that threatened to swallow him. To be helpless like this, it hurt deep, mostly
because he could see the triumph in Mulder’s eyes. Had he survived everything so far only to be taken
down like this? It had some justice in it, he supposed, for it to be Mulder to bring him in. He just wondered
if Mulder was savvy enough to recognize that as soon as they turned him in, he was a dead man. Maybe
this was a good thing, he thought, darkly. And it’d be one way for Mulder to get rid of him without getting
his hands dirty.
Downstairs in the living room, she confronted Mulder. “I’m going to go into town and get a few more things
and then I’m going take the guest room to sleep for, oh, about a week. I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, okay. You’ve earned it. Don’t worry, I’ll look after him, I won’t kill him while you’re gone. I’ll wait
until you get back to do it.” But he smiled, to reassure her he was kidding.
“Mulder, you are not to let him talk you into removing those cuffs for him. Do you hear me? If he leaves
right now, he won’t get very far but the farther he goes, the worse his condition will get. And give him lots of
“Now why would I take them off?! Stop worrying, Scully. He’s not going anywhere.”
She sighed. “Don’t push him, either. He’s still sick. He may not even be able to properly hold a
conversation with you, let alone give you comprehensive answers.”
By the time she’d left, Mulder decided that he would talk with Krycek, just to get him to relate with him a
bit. He wouldn’t ask him anything pertinent. Yeah, simply engage him in conversation, trivial things. Small
talk. That would lull him into a more amenable frame of mind, make him less edgy. And if Krycek kept up
the strong, silent martyr? Why, he’d just be even nicer to him. He was bound to crack at some point. In
fact, that made more sense than anything so far. If he could get him to believe that he was feeling more
lenient towards him because of his condition… Mulder grinned with anticipation. His conscience could
survive a few head-games. In this instance the end might justify the means. After all, Krycek was a
consummate liar and a master of manipulation. He never once considered that he himself might also have
real feelings and they would be just as at risk if Krycek figured it out. He was smiling when he walked into
Krycek’s eyes were suspiciously red and he didn’t look at Mulder when he came in; just licked his lips
slowly and steeled himself - but Mulder simply sat on the edge of the bed.
His face was flushed; he looked like he still had a slight temperature. Frowning, Mulder held out a hand to
feel his forehead. Jerking his head away and stiffening, Krycek bit his lip as an obvious ripple of pain went
“Relax, I’m not gonna hit you.” Mulder kept his voice even and quiet. And wondered why he felt absolutely
no triumph at all at the fact that the man was trembling as he felt his forehead. Not overly warm; maybe he
was still too dehydrated. “Do you need some water?”
“You make a lousy nurse.”
“True. I can’t compete with Scully. It’s a good thing she’s here, and that you didn’t need CPR or surgery;
I’d’ve botched the job for sure.”
“Why don’t you fuck off, Mulder?” His attempt at bravado was obvious, considering he was still restrained.
He could hardly help himself and would have to ask if he needed anything anyway.
Mulder wasn’t fazed. He grinned at him. “Keep that up and I might start to think you don’t trust me.”
Alex regarded the window. “You realize they’ll kill me if you turn me in.”
“Yeah, your point being?”
He flicked a glance at him. “A bullet *now* would be kinder.”
“Sorry, no can do. Scully will shoot me again if I do. I was tempted, but you know something? Having you
here like this, it kind of puts it all in a different perspective. I’ve been thinking: maybe we could take this
opportunity to get to know each other better. We never really talk.” He couldn’t help chuckling at his own
The look Krycek shot him was almost pitying. “Give me a break.”
“We have unfinished business, you know. Now’s the perfect time to settle our differences.”
Alex looked up at him, a nameless anxiety clutching at him. Mulder was kidding him, he knew it and yet –
he wished it were real. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. For a moment he felt black hatred for this
man’s cruelty. Mulder *knew* he had him in a vulnerable and compromising position. What respect he did
have for him fled at the knowledge that Mulder could do this to him, to anyone. Something of this must
have shown on his face though, because Mulder sat up, straightening.
“Aren’t you glad we can do it this way? Think about it; usually when we meet you’re healthy enough to take
a beating. This way we can’t throw any punches... It’s more constructive.”
Alex sighed wearily. “Mulder, I’m not the one throwing the punches every time our paths cross. You should
be the one in the cuffs, not me.”
“I think Scully would agree with you. But I promised to behave myself. And look, I haven’t laid a hand on
you. So let’s talk.”
Alex fought the sudden temptation to blurt out that he had indeed already laid a hand to his forehead, and
what was up with the cuffs anyway, but at the last second realized he was still partly delirious and
weakened by fever and pain to contemplate having an argument over it. Mulder could talk circles around
him right now. “Feel free, Mulder. Scully would understand. And I’m sure your father would, too.” Shit,
where had that come from? He tensed, wondering if Mulder would rise to that one. God, to be helpless
here, like this. It was unbearable.
Mulder sat regarding him, and then a slow smile crept onto his face. “I do believe you’re trying to bait me,
Krycek! Actually, now that you mention it, I seem to remember a time in the not-too-distant past, a night
where you felt pretty free to lay hands on *me*.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Well, are you in the habit of sealing all your deals with a kiss? What about Hafsten; he didn’t look the type
to respond too well to that.”
Alex snorted. “No, I saved that one for you; god knows you needed something to jolt you back to reality.
You looked stoned; I’d begun to wonder if you were on something. I didn’t think you’d been drinking but you
never know. Why? Did I really make that big of an impression?”
Mulder smirked at him. Alex wanted to knock it from his face, hard. “You never asked my permission,
“Where do you get off playing Mr Righteous, Mulder?”
“Oh, ever since I learned about your *true* feelings for me.” Mulder’s eyes were a little too mischievous for
Alex’s peace of mind. This whole conversation was taking a hideous turn. “You’ve been delirious. Scully
was there. She heard everything, apparently. She told me all about it downstairs just now.”
Alex took this in with no small amount of alarm. He had dark, half-formed memories of Scully sitting beside
him in the dim light, as he tried to get up, her hand on his head, the needle... “Did I – what did I say?”
Mulder paused, considering him. “You sang.”
Alex was mystified. “I - I sang?”
“Like a canary.”
He didn’t get it at first and then it hit him. //Oh, no… //
“It’s okay, Krycek. I kinda guessed you felt that way about me, when you kissed me that night. It’s sort of
obvious, when you think about it.”
//Fuck! Oh god. // “What did I *say*, Mulder!?”
“Funny, isn’t it; you’re the only one who’s shown any interest in me in all this time. I seem to specialize in
Alex didn’t bother looking at him. Damn it, he couldn’t stop those little involuntary tremors that had
returned. His tone was guarded and low, but it still betrayed his dismay. “Even funnier – I didn’t think you
were the kind to kick someone when they’re down.”
“Hey,” protested Mulder, “I said I wouldn’t hurt you. I meant it. Unlike you, my word means something.”
Alex’s face twisted as he broke, anger and pain written clearly across his expression as he hissed, “What
would you know about it, Mulder? Do you have any idea of the falls I’ve taken for you, or the number of
times you’d have bought it, if it weren’t for me? You owe me big time, and you’ve hit me when I’ve been
down before.” He broke off, biting his lip, realizing his outburst more than betrayed his humiliation, anger
and frustration at his current circumstances. He hadn’t wanted Mulder to know just how bad it was for him
right now. He’d exploit it to its fullest. Weakness…
Mulder had the nerve to sound wounded. “Come on, cut me some slack here – you and Scully, you’re both
acting like I’m about to shoot you where you lie! I’m not going to, okay?”
“It would hardly make a difference,” Alex said, dully. “I already told you: I’m a dead man, whichever way it
A tiny burst of sympathy nudged at him inside, and Mulder found himself wondering why he couldn’t bring
himself to hate him like he had before. Maybe it really did start with that kiss, he thought to himself. It had
certainly changed the way he thought Krycek thought of him. Almost without thinking, he put out his hand
to touch Krycek’s chest, bandaged as it was under the sheets and the blanket. Krycek sucked in a painful
breath of surprise but there was no heavy pressure. Mulder merely rested his hand there. Quietly, he said,
“It’s not over yet. Don’t give up until the fat lady sings.”
Alex’s eyes were disbelieving and Mulder caught his breath at the expression in them; a wistful mixture of
sadness, shame and longing. Alex cleared his throat. “Thanks. So… does this mean you *won’t* turn me
“Well, that kinda depends on you. But like I keep telling you, you’re safe for now.” Mulder absently ran his
hand lightly over his chest. Alex couldn’t help tightening reflexively to this, which of course made him wince
yet again. Mulder jerked his hand away. “Sorry.”
Seeing Krycek cuffed and laying there helpless reminded him of that evening he’d spent with Godzilla, and
he felt the stirrings of arousal before he could shake himself out of the reverie. Then again, the man *had*
kissed him… Krycek had to know that he might have to deal with the consequences later on. Mulder
grinned suddenly. There was no reason not to take advantage of this situation. “Well, mostly safe.” And he
leaned over him, enjoying the way Alex’s eyes widened even more with alarm. He paused, Alex now visibly
Mulder bent down to place his lips against his, enjoying the unaccountably soft and warm sensation. It
wasn’t like what he had expected. God, it was… good. Surprisingly good. He hadn’t expected it to feel this
voluptuous and pleasant. He had wondered ever since the man had pecked him on the cheek what it would
really be like… He tilted his head slightly and pressed his mouth to Alex’s more insistently, finally flicking
out a tongue to taste the lips under his.
Alex let go the breath he’d held and it came out with a moan. This couldn’t be happening. It was. And as
good as it was, he couldn’t help the knowledge that Mulder was *not* serious from tainting the moment. He
couldn’t stop the tears from leaking and he found himself desperately pulling away, turning his face to the
left, unable to speak, his eyes shut tight. He couldn’t bear to be this close to him. Not now. Not like this.
After all these years. After all the long nights spent trying to *not* think about what he wanted and knew he
could never have. The sheer humiliation was enough, without also having to face the thought of Mulder
knowing how he really felt about him as well. Damn it, what had he actually exposed in his ravings, in his
But a warm, gentle hand on the side of his face turned him back to face him and Mulder was speaking, in a
low voice, almost a whisper. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”
“Please, stop. Just stop,” Alex managed in a hollow voice, through wet eyes and a gasp that sounded
rather like a sob.
The tough, hardened survivor rat-bastard thug had vanished and all that was left in his place was a sick and
wounded man, emotionally broken and tired. Mulder almost jerked away as guilt flooded through him. He
had thought that Krycek deserved worse than anything Mulder could ever dish out to him. Now, he wasn’t
so sure. He found himself mulling over the man’s options once he left – on the run, working with entirely
disagreeable people, unable to escape his past or his conscience. Mulder’s eyes narrowed. *Did* Krycek
possess one? Once he hadn’t even cared. Now…
As for arresting him: he was right about that, too – Krycek would be dead within twenty-four hours.
“Stop what, Krycek?”
With harsh little breaths, Alex rasped, “What do you *want* from me?”
Mulder was stymied at this. “I don’t know,” he admitted, almost to himself. “I thought I did, but it wasn’t
like this. I never wanted to see you like this.”
Alex sniffled, once. It was enough to draw attention to the fact that he was painfully ashamed at his current
state as he once more looked away and refused to meet his eyes. He replied in a low voice, “Do you have
any idea how humiliating this is for me?”
“Do you have any idea what a turn-on it is for me, to have you here like this? Under Scully’s orders not to
release you, no less? If I uncuff you, she will shoot me. To have you here, in my power, and you can’t get
away. It’s kind of an aphrodisiac, after all the times I’ve been unable to catch you.” Mulder couldn’t help a
Alex shifted uncomfortably. “Y-yeah, tell me about it.”
Mulder glanced down and realized what he meant. There was a great deal of tenting going on down there…
He grinned. So, Krycek *did* like a little bondage action with him after all, did he? He leaned back in,
close to Krycek’s face, making him breathe in a little too sharply again and pull away once more. “Would
you like me to take care of that for you?”
Alex turned to stared at him, bemused. Finally, he managed, “Since when do you care? What about –
Mulder pretended to frown, deliberately misunderstanding him. “You’re right. She’ll be back soon. We’ll
wait until later. Besides, you’re still too weak for those kinds of exertions, wouldn’t you say?”
A brief glower of anger crossed Krycek’s face.
“Okay, okay. I didn’t think you’d be so demanding,” chuckled Mulder. Leaning down he captured his mouth
again, this time sliding his tongue between Alex’s lips to taste him, keeping up a relentless pace that made
the man under him fold soon enough. Alex’s mouth opened beneath his and soon their tongues were
sliding together with a hot, electric contact that made Mulder wonder *why* he had ever thought Alex
Krycek was unfeeling, cold or worthy of an ignominious death. Why, the man was a surprising blend of
tender, affectionate warmth and sweet, heady, responsive desire. He ignored the warning voice in his head
that was screaming in a good approximation of a klaxon.
Alex found himself surrendering to this unexpected onslaught. Besides, it was just too nice, too pleasant to
resist. His own words came back to haunt him, ‘resist or serve’… //yeah//, he thought bitterly, //who am I
serving now? Him, or me? // But the thought that this was all moving too fast was sitting in the back of his
mind, reminding him that it couldn’t last. Unfortunately, he was all too correct.
The sound of a ladylike throat clearing behind them made them jump, Mulder most of all. He almost leaped
up as he guiltily turned to face her. He felt like a sixteen-year-old.
“Don’t let me interrupt, boys. I can see you need a bit more time alone together.” Scully’s voice was dry,
dead-pan. She turned and left them looking at each other: Krycek slightly worried at what Mulder would do,
Mulder worried at what *she* would do.
Mulder dithered with indecision and then followed her downstairs where she was unpacking grocery bags
and didn’t look up at him. He said defensively, “Well, at least I haven’t uncuffed him.”
“That practically begs the question, Mulder. Are you planning to fuck him like that, too?” He winced at
this. He was about to reply when she continued, “Have you thought about how this might look, to him? If
you do this and you *don’t* uncuff him, or at least wait for him to recover from his current state of illness, it
looks a lot like a captor taking advantage of his hostage, don’t you think?”
He fidgeted. “Scully, it’s not like that. We have a bit of history that I never told you about – “
“Do tell, Mulder. He’s a fugitive wanted in connection with the deaths of many people on that long, long list
you told me about.” Her arch response did jolt him, mostly because of the reminder that he hadn’t ever
given her any reason to believe he felt anything but hatred for the man. “If I may bring you back to the real
world for a moment, though, I thought you might like to know. I called Skinner via that bogus satellite link
on my laptop that Frohike set up for me? He said that you needed to get back as soon as possible. Those
documents we’ve got are hotter than we thought. I’ll stay here with Krycek and he’ll send someone over to
pick us up in a couple of days. Considering what I just saw, I’d say that it’s imperative that you cooperate
on this one, Mulder. Looks like Stockholm Syndrome in reverse. I’m not sure what you think you’re doing,
but you really need to get some distance from him and think things over.”
//So I have issues//, he grumbled silently, //so sue me. // An unpleasant taste settled inside him at her
words. She was taking it very well; she was probably not reacting as badly as he might have feared for the
very simple reason that she had grown more than used to his irrational and often erratically unpredictable
behavior. Particularly where Krycek was concerned. She was right, and he said so. “Okay, I agree.
Things are a bit crazy right now. But I can’t just leave it like this. Let me – just give me a few minutes to
talk with him, okay?”
She lifted a brow at him. “I’ll give you exactly ten, and then I’m coming up. I was expecting something to
give after the incredible revelation of Alex Krycek’s unrequited passion for you, Mulder, but I really didn’t
think you’d fall for it. You need to leave, I think. He needs to eat something and I’m making soup. Skinner
was very insistent.”
“Why should Skinner care if he gets fed or not?”
She rolled her eyes at his obvious attempt at obfuscation. “Ten minutes only,” she said, a hint of
exasperation showing in her voice. “Skinner said you absolutely must get back. Now get upstairs. You
don’t want to keep lover-boy waiting.”
Mulder closed his eyes briefly and put a hand to his temples. When had this situation gotten so completely
and utterly fucked up? How had he lost control so badly? And why couldn’t he simply go upstairs and
shoot him, strangle him, or just plain kill him, as he had wanted to for so long? He sighed. And obediently
turned and went back up.
When he entered the room with a disgruntled attitude, Krycek turned to regard him warily, almost tiredly.
He looked resigned to whatever would happen.
“Tell me you wouldn’t have told me anything useful, anyway.” Mulder ignored the impulse to return to his
side and kiss him senseless again. Therein lay madness; it was some sort of weird reaction to seeing the
man bound, that’s all it was. He was damned if he was going to encourage him in believing that it meant
they had some sort of emotional bond. It was sexual tension, that’s all it was. In a way, he felt ashamed
for having led him on, for surely that was what he’d done. Just as Scully had accused; he’d taken
advantage of an injured and helpless prisoner, when he knew he had feelings for him.
He had to forcibly reject the memory of how Krycek had responded to him, the tears and the unfeigned pain
and yearning expression. Not to mention what Scully had told him…
Alex’s eyes narrowed and he looked away. He exhaled through his nose. “Sure, whatever. I’m in no
position to argue. Hey, I’m willing to avoid the issue if you are.”
“Look, I’m sorry for taking advantage of you. You’re right, you can’t do anything, you can’t argue with
Scully, let alone argue with me. You at least deserve a sporting chance.” His attempt at humor was
backfiring, as usual. “I have to go. Maybe we can settle this when you and Scully get back.”
Damn him; damn the lost, bewildered look in those killer’s eyes; the lying, wretchedly authentic
little-boy-lost expression. “Yeah. Look, Kr- Alex, I think it would be best. We’re more likely to survive this
if I do.”
“Just one thing; what did – what did I say? To Scully, when I was out of it?”
Mulder couldn’t help grinning. “That you loved me. In so many words. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone if you
won’t. And we can count on the discretion of the paragon of moral virtue downstairs, too.”
Alex turned his face to the wall. Mulder couldn’t be sure but he thought he was sulking. Amazing. He
stalked over and taking Alex’s face firmly between both hands he planted a warm and undemanding kiss on
both cheeks and then on his mouth. “This isn’t over yet. I agree with Scully though; we both need time to
think. Things are more complicated than I imagined.”
“For you, maybe,” Alex said, struggling to not beg him to stay, to try to work this out here and now, even
just to talk. The words were welling up inside him. //Don’t go, not now. Not after this, after all this time.
Please. It won’t be the same, it can’t ever be like this again. And we both know it. //
Mulder stood up. “I gotta go.”
“I’m not saying goodbye. Seems kind of academic at this point.”
Krycek turned his face back to the wall again. It was dismissive and Mulder couldn’t help a twinge of
annoyance. Where did he get off pulling this bitchy attitude? He was making it much harder than it needed
to be. He left the room without saying anything more.
Alex breathed a silent thanks that he’d gone at last. This entire day had been so completely shafted.
Things had gone from bad to worse. There was no way he could ever live this down. And Mulder would
undoubtedly see things in a much clearer light once he returned to his normal routine and familiar
environment. Probably it *was* for the best, as Mulder had said. For Mulder had so much ammunition
now. He would use it against him the first chance he got. It was better that he had left, and that he,
Alex-scumbag-son-of-a-bitch-Krycek avoid meeting Mulder wherever possible. His psychological state and
emotional feelings for him had entirely compromised any possibility that Mulder would take him seriously in
any future encounter. Yeah, best that they not meet again. It was bound to be painful and pointless. And
it was pretty clear that Mulder was in a state of denial over his usual hatred for him, and the way Alex lived
Still, he couldn’t stop the tears from absently tracing their telltale path down his face, beneath his closed
eyes. Or the hopeless futility that filled him with an empty diatribe of self-recrimination. To have glimpsed a
false moment of fulfillment and happiness was almost worse than never having tasted it at all. At least
before he hadn’t really known what he was missing. Intimacy. The memory of Fox Mulder’s mouth on his
own, at last… It was a dream, a fucking dream. And he’d just woken up, with Mulder’s departure.
* * * * *
Approximately a month later…
* * * * *
Mulder awoke with dismay and apprehension. His fear was well-founded, he discovered to his horror. He
was cuffed by both wrists, to the sides of his bed above his head. And his legs were spread, his ankles tied
with long lengths of cloth to the bottom legs of the bed on either side. He cursed the fact that he’d decided
to go to bed wearing absolutely nothing. It was warm outside and he’d figured sleeping in the raw was more
practical. The covers were pushed down and away, leaving him exposed. It was still dark. A voice to his
left made him jump.
“Sorry, Mulder. Hate to turn the tables on you like this, but I figured you needed a taste of your own
medicine. Besides, I seem to remember we agreed; we have unfinished business.” His cheerfulness was
“Krycek! What – “
His explosive and somewhat shocked query was abruptly cut off as Alex ran an admiring hand down
Mulder’s right side, to rest on his hip. The warmth of his hand on his skin was too nice for words. It had
been years since another person had touched him naked, let alone someone he’d been unable to stop
dreaming about for weeks. He ignored the relief that Krycek had resurfaced – he’d wondered if he would
ever see him again. After he’d eluded Scully just before their pickup, Krycek had vanished, true to form.
Mulder hadn’t talked about it when Scully returned. In fact, they had both studiously ignored the entire
episode as if it had never occurred.
Swallowing and licking his lips, trying to stifle the happiness he felt that the man had showed up despite his
unorthodox and rather intimidating actions, he started again. “What are you doing?”
Krycek laughed. “You’re kidding, right?
Fully awake now, he began to feel indignant. “Come on, Krycek. You don’t need to do this…”
“Oh, I think I do.” Krycek sat on the edge of the bed. “Nice waterbed,” he commented. “Should set up an
interesting motion with the rhythm later.”
“You sound like you believe you’re serious.” Mulder was attempting to keep his panic from rising.
“You really shouldn’t worry whether I’m serious about this or not. Besides, I think we’re both well aware of
my intentions toward you by now. I gotta say I’m a little concerned, though.”
“Really.” Krycek’s hand was wandering again, doing unspeakable things that caused more helpless
reactions in parts of his anatomy that shared none of his scruples or morals whatsoever… He was glad of
it, though; his initial trepidation had yet to give way to full-blown fear. He didn’t think the man wanted to
harm him. Not with the gentle, almost reflective way in which he was stroking his skin in that absent
manner. Soothingly. Hmm. Maybe it was a prelude to something nasty yet to come. Somehow, all his
instincts told him otherwise.
Krycek flicked a cursory, admiring glance over him, noting the filling of his cock as it began to rise. “Nice,”
he commented. “But yeah, I’m a little worried about this bondage fixation you have. I thought we might try
and work it out.”
“Well it doesn’t do it for me to be on the receiving end.”
Krycek’s brows lifted. “I don’t think your body agrees. In fact, I’d say it’s downright eager about this.” And
his grin was evil as he ran his hand lightly up one side of Mulder’s erect cock and down the other in a
Mulder hissed in a breath and gave an involuntary, convulsive little shudder. “Come on, Krycek. I never
“I know, I know. I couldn’t help wishing you’d had more balls at the time. Still, there’s no reason why I
should make you suffer the same way. Scully *was* due back, and it was easier for you to explain away
kissing me than it would be if you’d gone down on me. ‘Oh, hi there, Scully – don’t mind me, just taking
care of our unresolved tension.’ “ Alex laughed aloud. “Can you see it, the look on her face if you’d had a
mouthful of my cock when she walked in?” He was chuckling as he ran his hand down Mulder’s cock again
and then cupped his balls, gently. “Do you want me to go down on you, Mulder?”
Mulder swallowed in a dry throat. “Is that a trick question?”
“Nah. It’s a rhetorical one. No one in their right mind would refuse a free offer like that.” His hand had
wandered down to caress his thigh, slowly.
“Ha. That’s assuming you’re any good.” But Mulder was turning something over in his head. “Alex… Why
is it that you’ve never tried to defend yourself? When I’ve hit you in the past? You’re a decent fighter.
Probably a helluva lot better than I am.”
Alex’s hand stopped moving somewhere over the vicinity of Mulder’s waist. There was a sigh in the dim
bedroom from the direction of the black shape sitting next to him. Mulder suddenly wished there was better
light so he could see him more clearly. The light peeking in from the closed curtains wasn’t enough. He
wanted to look into his eyes again, see the vulnerability and that plea there, to know this wasn’t just another
And the answer, Jesus, the answer when it came: “Why do you *think?*” His voice was almost
disparaging. “I care about you, you stupid fuck.” He stopped, tilting his head. “I’ve always found it very
telling that you can bring yourself to hit me so easily. A slap here, a punch there, a kick when I’m down,
then hand me over to someone else to get in a few good ones afterwards on your behalf. You know, you
want to know what I think, *Fox*?” His hand still hadn’t moved, but it tightened against him, gripping him
where it lay almost absently. “I think you get off on it. It makes you hard to be able to touch me, but you
couldn’t ever do it without examining why you were doing it, so you put it all down to working out those
aggressive tendencies. Pretend it’s all just hate and anger and then let loose. Unfortunately, it’s more than
that to you and you know it. Well, sorry to break the news to you but that’s why you can’t bring yourself to
pull the trigger.”
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
A bitter chuckle. “More than you can imagine. Since the first time you struck me, actually. You won’t kill
me or you would have already. See, I think you want to touch me so badly that you hate it, it makes you
choke on it, so you have to find a way to do it that makes you feel big, like you’re still in control. But really,
if you’re honest, you lost it that very first time you hit me. And you never got it back, did you?”
Fear prickled along the outsides and insides of his awareness now. “What are you going to do?”
“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head, Foxy. I’m bigger than that. I’m more comfortable with my identity,
my sexuality, who I am and all that crap. I don’t have any problem at all touching *you*. Think of this as a
sort of lesson. One that I realized you were dying to learn when you had me all trussed up and at your
mercy last month.” He began to stroke him again, lightly, the light touches drawing involuntary squirming
from Mulder even as he tried to remain still. “In a way, every blow every time we met was a plea for me to
liberate you, wasn’t it, Fox?”
“If it makes you happy, Krycek, to justify your actions in believing that-“ Mulder retorted.
But Alex cut him off with a sudden grip of Mulder’s hard, straining cock that seemed to be ignoring his fear
or the points he wanted to make. “Ever wonder why I don’t consider myself a lesser being just because I
want you? That I can accept the fact I’m attracted to you?”
“Gee, I dunno. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you don’t possess the conscience to make
the comparison. Or that *I’m* not a murdering liar and a coward, up so deep to my eyes in shit that a bullet
really would be the kinder way to go.”
He could feel the patient smile in Krycek’s reply as the tight, warm hand left his cock. “I know you’re only
saying that ‘cause you’re scared. You know, I’ve never carried a single grudge against you, Foxy. Except
one: you left me there with a hard-on and no way of dealing with it.”
“Aw, poor baby. What, Scully didn’t give you a hand after I left?” Then wished immediately he hadn’t said
anything. Grumbling rather peevishly, he added, “She felt sorry for you, anyway. Wouldn’t let me do
anything. And then she got all uptight about it. I couldn’t go back up and finish you off.”
“Yeah, well, you know Scully. A paragon of virtue and moral fiber. A model citizen. But you’re changing the
subject.” And he grinned as he traced a finger lazily over one nipple and then the other, the grin widening
as Mulder’s jaw clenched and a ripple of longing went through him visibly. “I’m saying you weren’t man
enough to give us both what we wanted. Or to even acknowledge it. You never have been. It wasn’t all
your fault; I mean, I was hardly in a condition to enjoy it. I would’ve come here sooner if I could. Took a
while to recover. Looks like it’s up to me to get the job done. *Again*.”
Mulder was tired of being played with. “I know this will come as a disappointment to you but I’m really not
into the S & M scene.”
“I know. But you *are* into the cuff-me, kiss-me, hold-me-down and fuck-me-blind scene. Aren’t you, Fox?”
Damn it, that knowing sneer and smile was getting to him. Mulder wanted to grit out to him just get the hell
on with it… “Not a fair comparison, Krycek. We had you restrained for you own good and because you
were a federal prisoner.”
Alex threw his head back and laughed.
Mulder quickly added, “I think this is what *you* want, and by doing this to me, you’re trying desperately to
show me what it is you expect from me, hoping that I’ll give you what you need.”
“Now who’s the liar, Foxy?” The taunt was accompanied by another quick, deft set of fingers trailing up and
down the length of his now-weeping erection. “Sure, I’ll take you anyway I can get you. But so will you,
you want me just as badly and you’ll never admit *that* to anyone, least of all yourself.”
He hissed, fighting the impulse to buck up against those damned torturing fingers... “Are you through
fucking around? Why don’t you just get on with it and let me get back to sleep.” He let the anger loose,
trying to block out the very real worry that Krycek would discover just how right he was. Because the little
warning voice in the back of his head was hysterically shouting over and over again, that they were -
// - both pretending he’s seducing you with this, when you both know he’s seduced you already by
admitting his tears were real, his feelings were real. That he wants you. Still. //
//But I. Don’t. Want. Him. I don’t! //
And the little voice replying, //Liar. Liar. Coward. //
Alex was answering, “Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right?” The disbelief in Alex’s voice was almost
comical in its sincerity. “Fox, babe, I’m just getting started here.”
A thrilling combination of fear and anticipation swept over him. Sex as a weapon: Mulder had never realized
how potent a tool it could be, in combination with psychological debate… Krycek knew both his
weaknesses. An enjoyment of scintillating intellectual repartee as well as sex – hot, intense, dirty; but
there it was, his answer. He willed his voice to remain steady despite the havoc Krycek’s hand was
wreaking on his self-control, on his legs, his thighs, the flat of his stomach. “You’re the coward, Alex. Or
you’d have talked it over with me first, and then let me do this to you. Because it’s what *you* really want.
You’re just too afraid to give yourself over to me.”
Alex snorted. “You think? You had the chance and what did you do with it but leave us both hanging?” He
was enjoying the gooseflesh that his hand was leaving in its wake.
“Ah, but I was only just discovering it was what I wanted to do to you. You never asked. You weren’t in a
position to do anything. Now that I know what you want, all you have to do is ask.”
“What, you think I trust you just because you kissed me?”
“Hey, if the shoe fits. Remember?”
Alex drew back his hand. “You’re right.” He was silent momentarily. “Okay. But let me just give you an
example of what I mean first. To show you I really mean what I say. After all, trust doesn’t come easily to
either of us, and I’d like to have something to remember.” He grinned suddenly. “Just in case you change
your mind and decide to turn me in after all.” He stood up and slid his leather jacket off, draping it over the
back of the chair. Next, his boots came off. Mulder had to silently admit that it was quite a show; even
despite the fact he was stripping one-handed. He managed to do it gracefully.
Mulder cleared his throat. “As if, Alex. Come on. I’m as aware as you are that you won’t last long if I do.
In fact, I’ll give you my word that I won’t turn you in – and we both know mine’s worth more than yours.”
Alex pulled his shirt off. “I’m touched that you care, Fox. But I want this, first. Now.” The jeans came
down, slowly. Mulder could make out the pale skin even in the darkness as he slowly revealed himself.
Biting his upper lip, considering, Alex finally unstrapped the prosthetic as well and laid it down with his
clothing on the floor. Now as naked as the man bound to the bed, he put his knee onto the waterbed and
began the precariously undulating crawl over to Mulder’s side, over him, careful not to fall against him.
Then, he began the assault. Slow, drawn-out, deliberately teasing. Foreplay: he wondered how much
Mulder actually got in his encounters… and then wondered how many encounters there had actually been
in the last few years.
Mulder’s breath hitched inside his lungs as a pair of roaming lips, hot and wetly inching down over burning
skin began dissolving his will. Alex deftly avoided the more sensitive areas, having already ascertained
them with his exploration earlier.
Moving up again to place his lips against Mulder’s neck, he breathed, “When was the last time someone
made love to you? I don’t mean just sex, going through the motions.” He moved to his ear, nibbling at the
soft flesh and then inhaling the heady and intoxicating scent that was Mulder, direct from the source. God,
the miracle of pheromones. “I mean with real feeling. As if they meant it? Where it wasn’t just mutual
desperation, but an enjoyment of you? And of giving you pleasure?”
Every word, combined with the sultry, husky voice so rich with equal desire and promise, went straight into
Mulder, sinking into his core, his brain, his cock, filling him with the darkest longing. Suddenly the cuffs on
his wrists and the restraints on his legs were too much. He jerked against them, straining. He wanted to
touch him back. He almost twisted, setting up a wave on the bed that had Alex leaning down, waiting for it
to subside. Muttering in a low voice, Alex complained, “Since when were you into waterbeds, Fox? This is
going to make us seasick. I thought you preferred the couch, anyway.”
Torn between the desire to laugh and explain about the Dreamlands incident, and to beg him to just do it,
do something, *anything*, Mulder found himself saying, “For god’s sake, Alex! I’m dying here; if you can’t
handle it, then let me up and I’ll do it.”
Alex dragged himself to cover Mulder’s body with his own, with a look of glee in the dim half-light – Mulder
could see it glitter in his eyes. “You haven’t answered me yet, Foxy.” And continued his maddening
ministrations to his neck and other ear.
“It’s been too damn long, okay? You don’t have to romance me here, Alex, I’m already tied down. Just get
on with it.”
Alex stopped, lifting his head to regard Mulder’s barely-visible expression of impatience. He sighed. “No
wonder you don’t get laid more often.” And then moved down over him to take the head of his cock between
Mulder nearly choked, strangling, as his surprised desperate thrust upwards at the sensation was met by
laughing. Alex pulled back and then pushed him down, holding him still, before returning to run his tongue
admiringly all over the flushed head, then enveloping it, and began a slow, agonizing descent and sucking
It was overkill; Mulder was already too far gone and he came, twisting and thrashing against his restraints
into the hot cavern of Alex’s mouth. The exquisite pleasure crashed into him and rolled over him from the
inside out; he couldn’t stop from calling out, shouting… his name. Alex swallowed every drop; Mulder was
surprised. Somehow he hadn’t expected that. Panting, breathlessly trying to remember how to think once
more, he heard Alex chuckling slightly, saying, “Well, well, Foxy. I guess good guys like bad boys, after
Mulder couldn’t help flinching as Alex was laying across his legs, pressing him down into the bed with his
weight on him, his hand idly stroking his dwindling member and his balls. Mulder was still a little
over-sensitive there, the flesh was tender. Swallowing, he tried to gather what little brain-matter was left
after the implosion and meltdown. “D’you expect me to do the same for you?”
Alex lifted his head and said in a mockingly shocked tone, “How vanilla of you, Fox. No, I think I’ll just
stay here until you tell me what you really want.”
Mulder paused. “What? What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. Surely your fantasies don’t consist of simply giving head in the dark? What do you think
about? What do you want to do?” Alex shrugged and indicated the general area of the bedroom. “I mean,
this is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Why not take the opportunity to go ahead and act out all those dark little
secret dreams of yours that nobody, least of all Madame Scully, wants to know about?”
He almost had to bite his tongue to stop himself from retorting that he was sick of Alex’s comments about
Scully. Then he realized that Alex was only doing it out of his own insecurity and jealousy. Why not go for
broke, Mulder found himself thinking. He wanted to play? Fine. “I want to fuck you.”
The steady, sure and commanding way Mulder stated this stunned Alex; he hadn’t been prepared for what
simply hearing the man say that out loud would do to his self-control, his composure. The promise and the
inherent desire in it made him rethink his ability to carry through with this plan. He began to wonder at his
sanity at having even begun.
When Alex didn’t respond, Mulder continued, “What, too simple for you? Oh, and you have to be on the
“Well, I’d be happy to oblige you, *darling*, but there’s the small matter of guns and cuffs. Somehow, I
can’t see you using them on me except to try to bring me in, again.”
“I wouldn’t turn you over now –“ Mulder started.
“I said *try*,” grinned Alex. “You were right, I *am* a better fighter than you are, even minus an arm. But
no. I’m afraid not. Not this time around, anyway. Tell you what, I’ll fuck *you*, instead, and I’ll owe you.”
This did not appeal to Mulder at all. And it really wasn’t what he wanted. He wondered if he should go
ahead and tell him about his earlier fantasy… “But you just blew me; you don’t expect anything back for
He shrugged again, slightly. “Consider that one on the house. I’ve been wanting to do it for a while,
anyway. Of course, I’ve also wanted to take you.”
Licking his lips, Mulder said, “I really don’t think so. I’d rather blow you instead.”
Raising his brows, Alex moved to bring himself up full-length on Mulder. His obviously unsatisfied erection
was hard and hot against Mulder’s uppermost flesh of thigh and lower stomach. “Alright. I won’t push you.
I must be getting soft in my old age - tell you what though. Sixty-nine is a magic number.” And he grinned
at him whitely in the dark.
“Still a bit problematic in terms of positioning,” mused Mulder. “But how about if I give my word that I won’t
turn you in. I swear it. This is just between you and me, and we’ll keep it that way. I’m not sure I’d be able
to explain what were you were doing here, anyway. Cuffed to my bed. I really don’t think it would fly.”
“Translation: let’s keep Scully out of it, she wouldn’t like it. Right, Foxy?” Alex was chuckling again.
“I’m glad you can find the future of my professional reputation and my friendship with her so amusing,
“What reputation?” joked Alex, “Everyone already knows about your porn collection.” An urgent and heated
kiss followed this though, taking him swiftly by surprise with the depth of its tenderness, before Alex lifted
his head. “I’m not laughing at you. I just – I can’t believe that you won’t use this against me. You’ve never
made a secret about how you feel towards me, in the past. Believe me, I want the same thing you do, but I
have a lot more to lose than you do if I let you loose, now.” Alex leaned in against him, sighing softly. And
Mulder found himself in the rather strange situation of lying there unable to move or reciprocate, with Alex’s
head on his chest in a touchingly affectionate position, his arm around him, lying against his side with his
one hand on his neck.
It felt warm, and comfortable. Strange. To discover how, well, how *cuddly* Alex was. He had never
thought the man would be like this. And he wanted to enjoy it, to pretend that it was only what it seemed to
be at the moment. But the reality of their relationship, of how they had come to this point, and the fact that
Alex was still hard made him think they needed to find some completion. At least before the morning
came. Clearing his throat, he said, “Please, Alex. I swear I won’t hurt you.”
The way he said it left no mistake he might have been referring only to physical threats, and just to make
that clear, he added, “I trust you and I believe you’re sincere, here. I won’t do anything you don’t want me
to. I want this. I want you, too.”
“Mulder.” Alex spoke quietly; it was a low whisper in the dark, his breath stirring warmly against Mulder’s
skin. “I can’t ask you to forgive me for all the things I’ve done. But, I can ask you to forgive me for all the
things you *think* I’ve done.”
Mulder turned this over in his head for a bit. “Okay. I forgive you. But only if you let me go.”
Alex sighed against him. “I only wanted you to know, just a little bit, what it was like for me, you know. To
be on the receiving end. You have no idea how much it hurt, laying there like that with the two of you
standing over me, so glad that I was – was – helpless and everything.“
“I know. Believe me, I know. Look, it won’t be like that, this time. And besides, I won’t leave you hanging.
We both want this, don’t we?”
“Yeah.” But the tension was obvious in his reply.
Abruptly, Alex pushed himself up off of Mulder and reached over for the keys at the bedside table, and then
upwards to undo both his wrists. Then he undid his ankles. Mulder was glad to move at last, rubbing his
wrists. He stretched and clambered off the bed, leaving Alex in his wake as the bed roiled.
“Fun and games,” muttered Alex, almost to himself. He sounded worried.
The knowledge of what he was going to do made Mulder’s cock spring back to life. He waited for Alex to
lay back. He took Alex’s wrist and slowly brought it up above his head, to occupy the same place his own
had recently been. Snapping the cuff, he couldn’t deny the thrill that went through him at the sound. It
*did* make him feel powerful. Once more in control of the situation, of their relationship, he wasn’t making
decisions or speaking from a level of adrenaline and anxiety but of superiority. It was almost heady.
He could hear Alex’s breathing had increased in tempo and he smiled down at him. “Don’t worry. I told
you, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. And I’m not going to tie you down. We’re going to need
your legs free, for what I have in mind.”
Alex didn’t answer, merely looked up at him with what Mulder could tell was almost a silent entreaty,
begging him to go through with it and not change the game into something ugly.
As Mulder stood, it hit him with the brilliance of a light turning on in his head. Turning to look down at the
man secured on *his* bed, he allowed himself a moment of triumph. He had managed to pull it off; he’d
lured him in, set him up. Somehow, his subconscious had managed to pull it off. This was the exact
scenario in his fantasy that he’d wanted, that he’d indulged in, weeks back. Now to go in for the kill. He
had the panther *here*, in his territory, on his terms. He almost wanted to laugh but settled for a slow, lazy
The fool had fallen for the oldest game in the book and offered his heart up on a plate – who was he to turn
down a meal that offered such a satisfying sense of completeness and revenge? If he couldn’t turn him in
without killing him, and he wasn’t going to go through with actually feeding him a bullet personally, what
was left but to – It was unthinkable now, to imagine Alex’s death. He realized it had been for some time,
too. He’d never actually wanted him dead, merely brought to justice.
Thing was, this time he’d take what he actually wanted. He wasn’t as bone-headed as Alex had assumed.
Nor was he as sadistic as Alex feared. He was more than aware of the level of sexual tension and mutual
attraction that always existed between them.
He brought himself up short without allowing himself to complete it but the little warning voice inside him
said, // Do you really want to make him scream? Make him suffer? And beg? Plead for mercy, for
forgiveness, to return his feelings, to make him feel good/bad/pain/pleasure… How much will you regret it in
the morning? Is it worth it? Do you care? How vulnerable will it make you to *his* games? What have you
let yourself in for? And how will you look anyone in the face, come tomorrow, least of all yourself?// Mulder
thoughtfully chewed his lip.
Alex broke through his frozen idyll of indecision with a worried undertone. “Are we gonna do this, then?”
“I want you. I think I always have. But you made it so hard. You made it so fucking difficult for me. I’m not
angry anymore. I just – I don’t know. A part of me knows that this was inevitable, that there wasn’t any
other way we were ever going to resolve our differences. Or another way that I was going to forgive you.”
As if knowing the only way he could appeal beyond the internal battle that was being fought between
Mulder’s moral judgment center and his body’s screaming desire to fuck the man on his bed into next
week, Alex relaxed backwards into the bed. He had lifted one knee just a little, it was as if he were posed
for a renaissance painting. It was almost obscenely beautiful, this tableau he created with his unconscious
sensuality. The ‘ruined angel’ look. Surrender. The dark hair, the long clean lines of his fighter’s body
visible even in the half-light, the intense passion yet expectant worry in his face, the wariness of his
muscles tensed ever-so-slightly… Mulder found himself devouring him with his eyes on a purely aesthetic
And as Alex stared back at him there was only one thing he caught from Mulder: hunger. Alex swallowed
and said in a husky voice that was rough with longing and fear, “So do it, Fox. For once in your life.”
All the possible meanings of that simple statement rang through Mulder and he had to cling to the ones that
he felt safe with. Damn, when had the responsibility of being the ‘top’ crashed into him and left him feeling
like the one who stood the most to lose? He could feel the danger to *himself*, in his own conscience and
the wicked impulse to punish him and draw strength from it. Power and sex. He was taking too long to do
anything. He licked his lips.
Alex was tense. And afraid now, he could see it in him. And it was echoed in his voice. “Fox, please.”
And unspoken, ‘don’t back out now’.
Mulder realized he could assuage both his conscience and his desire at the same time. He would punish
him with pleasure, and in doing so, take Alex’s pride, his heart, his need to be saved. By taking him like
this and stripping him of even his male dignity, he could forgive him. To have him like a victor taking a
vanquished enemy… This was almost enough to bring him off, standing there. He thought, get on with it,
just finish it. “Hold on.”
He moved to the bedside cabinet and opened the drawer, taking out a bottle of lube and a condom. He
opened the packet and rolled it on. Applying a generous amount to slick his cock, he heard Alex inhale
sharply as he watched.
Alex, for his part, felt his face flush hot as Mulder then climbed on the bed to kneel between his legs and
push them upwards and apart.
Without a word, Mulder pressed a wet finger between his asscheeks and then slowly slid the tip into him,
up to the first knuckle, loving the way Alex sucked in a breath. He began to move it in and out, then added
“F-fox, *please*. I’m not gonna last much longer if you don’t…” Alex’s voice was broken.
With a slow deliberation and a feeling of inevitability, yet filled with a curious mixture of power and
gentleness, Mulder withdrew his fingers and moved up to press himself against him, maneuvering the head
of his cock against his anus. Pushing in slowly, feeling the tight, heated ring of muscle give slightly as Alex
choked out a gasp, he brought both his hands to Alex’s hips and leaned over. Catching his mouth beneath
his in an almost reassuring kiss, he concentrated on pushing into him several more inches. Deep,
upwards, right up into that hot, silky velvety melting tight grip… This was too sweet. “Oh, *god*,” he said,
against Alex’s mouth.
Alex found himself unable to do anything but groan as he was filled with Mulder… //*Fox Mulder*…// and
was then couldn’t do anything but babble. “Fox, god, just fuck me. Fuck me, harder! Come on, fuck, now,
just – fucking *do* it!”
Mulder couldn’t help but oblige at this point, immediately surging forward into that hot depth. He snapped
his hips up and back in a hard, short motion, thrusting forward into him with jerky little movements, pressing
against that hard little secret place deep inside him almost instinctively.
Their skin was too hot; it had gone way beyond anything they thought they could handle. Alex’s body was
covered with a thin sheen of sweat and Mulder found himself licking it, the smell of him filling his nostrils
with wanting to taste him, to bite him, reaching an animal need that drove him deeper into him with a happy,
hard forcefulness. He sank his teeth into his shoulder at some point.
Alex was nearly incoherent under him, writhing against him, bucking back against him with every thrust, his
words punctuated with little intakes of breath. “Touch me, y-your hand, now! Please! God, Fox! Oh fuck,
please, g-god, *fuck*!…”
Mulder lifted up slightly, breaking rhythm momentarily to reach down a hand and grab Alex’s begging cock
while bracing himself in the waves of the waterbed as it moved under their bodies. It was like fucking in the
goddamned sea or something… Not that he cared much at the moment. Alex said something that he
couldn’t understand. The need to let go, to just *fuck* the man under him with abandon overtook him and he
drove into him hard, and harder and faster… Shit, he wasn’t going to last at this rate. That hot, slick tight
channel was pulsing around his cock in a way that made it absolutely imperative that he fuck him as hard
as he could.
Alex let go. To feel Mulder inside him, after all this time… all the times he’d wondered what it would be
like. It was almost like being home. With a choked scream, Alex’s cream was flying up to land on his
stomach and both their chests. Delightful abandon, giving himself up over and over again, his heart pounding
so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear anything else as a shivery wave of heat raced over his skin,
rising from his toes all the way up his body.
His orgasm brought Mulder’s on and Mulder was jerking against him to come deep inside of him; dark, hot,
fuck – just…just…
Mulder found himself calling out something, he thought it might be Alex’s name but wasn’t sure it made
sense. Words didn’t anymore. He couldn’t find any. Didn’t matter. Nothing else did, except the feeling of
Alex under him.
He couldn’t stop himself from sinking forward against him, partially pulling out of him as he continued to feel
little pulsing aftershocks. “Fuck! Oh, shit… yes. Oh, god… Alex – “ Panting, he said, “I’ve never, never…”
Alex’s only reply was an open-mouthed moan.
Their skin was wet in that lovely, freshly-fucked feeling and neither of them could move. //God, I love you.
Fox. // Alex winced as he tried to remember if he’d said it aloud when he came, or if Mulder had realized.
Mulder was collapsed on top of him. Finally, Alex managed, “Uh, Fox? You’d better move, or we’re going
to be stuck like this.”
Mulder groaned and shifted, attempting to move and struggling to regain his balance as he lifted himself
upwards. The bed seemed to be conspiring against them now. When he made it to the edge of the bed
and swung his feet over onto floor and stood, Alex felt a cold little rivulet of worry – surely he wouldn’t leave
Mulder went to the bathroom and Alex was unable to do anything but lay there and wonder if the passage of
time was as painful as he imagined, or if the surrealism of his situation was only in his own head. But
Mulder returned with a warm, wet towel and laid it on him before turning the key in the cuffs and releasing
him. The relief that flooded Alex was almost enough to make him lightheaded so he wasn’t really prepared
for the sensation of Mulder laying down beside him and kissing him hard on the mouth.
Stunned by the affection of the gesture, he absently rubbed his wrist against his body and picked up the
towel. Mulder moved to take it too though, from him, and began to clean the come from his body. For the
sake of saying something, Alex said, “Should we bother with a shower, do you think?”
“No. Save it for later.”
Mulder’s smile reached into him and twisted a secret place inside of him that he had always kept guarded.
It was easier to acknowledge it in the darkness. It filled him before he could stop it; it was filling up his
chest and he didn’t really want to identify it. “So, can I stay, then?”
“If you try to leave, I’ll shoot you.” Mulder pulled the covers over them both and began snuggling into his
side against him, wrapping his arms around him in a hold that he couldn’t really get away from and frankly,
didn’t want to even if he could.
Long minutes passed comfortably. Alex basked in his embrace. Warm and secure, something addictive
and worth arguing for, worth any price he might have to pay – that they *both* might later find themselves
having to pay. Something he never had imagined he might ever have. Alex whispered against him, his eyes
closed, “Is there a chance, do you think, that we might repeat this?”
Mulder’s voice sounded tired. “For god’s sake, Alex. You already come and go from here as you please.
Maybe I should make you a cat door.”
“Kinky. Want me crawling in on my knees, do you?”
“Jesus, if I’d known you were this needy…” but he took the sting from his words with a smile heard in the
dark and kissed him companionably on the cheek. “I’m just glad you picked a Friday night to drop in.”
Alex grinned. “Yeah, I figured whichever way it went, we’d need time to ourselves after, to assimilate and
“Yeah? Assimilate *this*.” Mulder captured his mouth again, hot and wet and open, plundering him
shamelessly with his tongue. When Mulder pulled back, he was left speechless again. Mulder took this
opportunity. “Alex, just tell me one thing. You have an iron-clad set of justifications for why you do the
things you do, right?”
Alex stopped, freezing at the sudden seriousness in his voice. “I do what I have to. It’s up to you whether
you believe that or not. But I don’t do things for my own amusement, if that’s what you mean. I’m not into
running around at the Syndicate’s beck and call just for kicks. And they’d be fools if they thought I was
only doing it for the perks. What little of those there are. Hey, I don’t expect you to trust me blindly. But if
you can believe that you mean to me exactly what I said you do, that’s enough.”
“Are you talking about when you were feverish, delirious? Or tonight?”
“Both, I guess.”
Mulder sniffed. “Mm. Fine. That’s good enough for me.” He pulled him closer and snuggled in against him
in a manner that was unmistakably meant to suggest sleep.
As Mulder’s breath slowly went even and shallow, Alex remained awake in the darkness, contenting himself
with lightly stroking Mulder’s upper arm and running his fingers through his hair. He smiled, letting the
luxury of lazy relaxation in the intimacy of it all settle inside him, replacing the usual insistence of
knife-edge reaction time and watching for danger. To a limit, of course. Couldn’t afford to pretend that the
absurdity of the two of them together wasn’t a risk to both of them. The insanity of pursuing a regular,
repeated liaison in the future appealed to him immensely.
* * * * *