Disclaimer: Mulder, Krycek, Scully and all other X-Files characters who get thrown into this mix do not belong to me. Chris Carter owns 'em. I'm sure he won't mind if I borrow them for a little fun, though.

Rated NC-17 This is not a story for the kiddies. If naughty words and strong same-sexual images disturb you, run! Go and never come back. There’s tons of angst, a touch of violence, bad words, a whole bunch of sweet moments and even...dare I say it...the "L" word thrown in for good measure. If sugar isn’t in your diet, I’ll give you a second warning. Run!!

I love feedback. I crave feedback. I LIVE for feedback. So for goodness sake, feed me before I gnaw off a foot or something. Naturally, flames will be happily ignored...unless it’s really good, in which case it’ll be passed around amongst my friends. They can use a good chuckle as well as I.

This is a first for me. I’ve written before, but I can honestly say that the thought of throwing Mulder and Krycek together had never crossed my mind. And if it had, it would have been accompanied by a resounding EEEW! That is, until I happened across a lovely little web site where the Mulders, Kryceks and Skinners are free to live, love and frolic the way they never would any place else. I found, much to my amazement, that I liked this. I liked it a lot. And now, I feel the urgent need to try my hand at an M/K story. I’ve spent many a late night now, in my bed, scribbling down little notes and ideas, when I should have been asleep. It’s time to transfer them to the screen, where I can get a better feel for what I’ve done so far. If you’re reading this, I’ve obviously decided that it wasn’t an entirely worthless effort. So without further ado...

Oh....wait.....I gotta thank a few people. Big shout outs to Nicole, The Tenth Muse, Deb and Donna for their beta services and infinite enthusiasm. I love you kids to pieces!!!

Okay....NOW....

Admission

By Aries

Fox Mulder moved deftly through the dark apartment, stopping only when he reached his desk. The soft click of the lamp switch was followed by the dim illumination of the immediate area. The rest of the room remained fairly black. Forty watts in a room this size just didn’t do it.

He removed his charcoal suit jacket and tossed it across the swivel chair behind the desk. He loosened his tie even as he fished around under the stacks of files and papers. His hand came in contact with a long, smooth object. He curled his fingers around the cool hardness and pulled the remote control out of the mess. He flicked the television on, adding a bit more light to the muted gloom. He removed his holster and laid it across the coffee table, then settled back onto the sofa.

He really didn’t know why he turned the TV on; he was in no mood to watch anything. Even a selection from his video collection held no allure tonight. All he really wanted to do was sleep. But sleep eluded him - like the meanings of his fragmented dreams. Like the truth behind the disappearance of Samantha. Like the simple joy he might find in the welcoming smile of a loved one as he walked through the door, at the end of a long day.

His eyes slid closed. Not that there was any sleep to be found behind his lids. There was just nothing else to do...yet. Mulder’s eyes snapped open at the faint rustle that came from the direction of his bedroom. In one fluid movement, he spun to his feet and released his Sig Sauer from the holster.

There had been no sign of forced entry. No clues that anyone had been there. He knew he was exhausted and those two whiskey sours that he’d tossed down at the airport bar before he came home, probably didn’t do much to help his already dulled senses, but that was a noise, he was sure of it.

Mulder crept to the doorway then flattened himself out against the wall, gun positioned just parallel with his head. He took two deep breaths, then kicked the door open. Bloodshot hazel eyes squinted into the almost dark room, determining that there was no one there. Cautiously, he entered the room, eyes scanning the darkness as he moved toward the closet. He nudged the already partially open door with his foot and quickly stepped into the doorway, pointing his Sig out before him.

Nothing.

Immediately, his head turned toward the bed. He moved over to it and flipped the cover off. He jumped back, pointing the gun downward. After a second, he bent to have a look. Again, nothing.

Satisfied that it might have been his imagination after all, he secured his weapon and left the room - just in time as it turned out, to see a dark figure breaking from the bathroom into the hall. Mulder gave chase and tackled the intruder just before he reached the door. The two struggled briefly before Mulder was able to turn the man over onto his back. His eyes glittered with a murderous rage when the all too familiar face became visible.

"Krycek?!? What are you doing here?"

Krycek smirked up at him. "Lovely to see you too, Mulder. Miss me?"

His answer came in a sharp blow to the jaw.

Krycek’s eyes squeezed shut as he ran his tongue over his split bottom lip.

"Shit!"

Mulder held the collar of his jacket together in one hand, almost cutting off his air, fist curled, poised to resume the assault.

"What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" His only answer came in a tight gasp. He loosened his grip slightly. "Now talk."

"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d come by for a little visit...and this is the welcome I get."

Mulder startled him with a stinging backhand.

"Usually, when people visit, they actually want to see who it is they’re visiting. Now for once in your fucking miserable life, tell the truth. What do you want?"

Krycek raised a hand carefully to his cheek and rubbed it. He gave no verbal response, but the look in his green eyes was somehow response enough. And it unnerved Mulder - a lot. Suddenly he was very aware that they were on the floor and he was straddling Krycek’s slim hips. The faint stirring in his body shocked him. He rose to his feet, pulling Krycek up by his jacket. He raised his weapon and trained it on his former partner.

"One funny move and I’ll blow your head off." Mulder dragged him to the sofa and threw him down on it. "Who sent you here?"

"No one."

He released the safety. "I’ll give you five seconds to re-think your answer."

Krycek looked up at him with the same disturbing gaze that had made him so uneasy just a few minutes before. He spoke softly. "Would you really kill me?"

"Try me."

He sighed softly. "I haven’t done anything. I only got here a few minutes before you did. You were supposed to be gone till tomorrow."

"Gee, sorry I ruined you plans," Mulder sneered. "Which were what, by the way? Would I have been killed or simply maimed?"

"Mulder, you know that if they wanted you dead or incapacitated, you would have been by now."

"They. Now we’re getting somewhere. Who exactly are they?"

"You know who they are."

"What did they send you here for?"

Krycek studied him for a moment, then spoke. "I’m going to reach in my pocket. One hand, okay?"

In a second, Mulder was there, slapping his hand away from his jacket. He reached into the pocket and withdrew a small device.

"They wanted to monitor you. I was supposed to plant that."

Mulder laughed softly, almost to himself, then addressed Krycek. "You know how many times they’ve tried to monitor me? I thought they would have given up by now." He tossed the tiny camera onto the table. His eyes narrowed on his unwelcome company. "And why you?" Any drone could have hooked this up. I’d have thought they’d have better things for cold-blooded killers to do."

Krycek responded softly, his eyes cast downward. "I didn’t kill your father. Or Scully’s sister. I wish you could believe that. And I volunteered to do this."

Mulder glared at him. "First of all, what do you care what I believe and second, why would you volunteer to come here?"

Krycek hesitated, then looked up into Mulder’s eyes. "I could cover both of those questions in one answer, but..." He shook his head, almost imperceptibly and lowered it once again.

"But what? Answer them!"

"I don’t think you really want me to."

Mulder advanced toward him and held the muzzle of his weapon to Krycek’s forehead. "Yeah, I really do."

"Do you ever wonder, Mulder, why when you’re around me, you can’t seem to control your violent tendencies?"

"Gee, I don’t know Krycek. Couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you killed my father!"

Krycek raged back, not caring that there was a cocked pistol aimed at his head. "For the last fucking time, I did not kill your fucking father!" He took full advantage of Mulder’s momentary discomposure and lunged at him. They rolled onto the floor, wrestling for the gun. Krycek managed to straddle his chest and kneel on his arms. Mulder howled with rage, as his Sig was pried from his hand.

"I’ve had enough of this shit," Krycek heaved, holding the weapon against Mulder’s temple. Mulder glared up at him defiantly.

"Go ahead, man. You can do it." He shrugged "Piece of cake, right?"

Krycek shook his head, almost sadly. "You don’t get it, do you?" He secured the gun, then gently drew the barrel down Mulder’s cheek. "I don’t want to kill you." Mulder swallowed against the huge lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. "I just want...I want to talk."

"About?"

"About you...me." Krycek got up and handed the gun back to him. Mulder rose to his feet and backed away.

"Awful big chance you’re taking, giving me my weapon back. How do you know I won’t kill you where you stand?"

"I don’t know for sure. I’m just...I’m reading something here. In your voice...your eyes. It’s something I’ve suspected...for some time. Or maybe I just hoped for it...I don’t know."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"We’re attracted to each other, you and I."

"What?"

"From that first day...in the bullpen. I felt it and I think you did, too."

"Oh, you’re a sicker puppy than I thought you were," Mulder said, with total disgust.

"Then put me out of my misery. Go ahead, you’ve got the gun." He stood, waiting.

Mulder did not raise the gun, but he didn’t put it down, either. "Get out of here, you goddamn fag. If it’s an ass fucking you’re looking for, try the bar downtown. I’m sure somebody there will be more than happy to oblige you."

"I don’t want to go to any bar. I am where I want to be. With the man I want to be with."

"You just said it, fairy. Man. I’m a man!"

"Believe me, I know you’re a man. I wouldn’t want you if you weren’t."

Mulder began to pace. "I don’t believe this. I don’t fucking believe this." He whirled to face Krycek. "Get our ass out of here, before I pound you into nothing!"

"And that’s the only way I can get you to touch me, isn’t it? It’s the only way you can put your hands on me without feeling any guilt or doubt." Mulder began to pace again, shaking his head. Krycek continued. "The last time you were being monitored, before you found the device, I witnessed your encounter with a blonde woman." Mulder’s head snapped around and he glared at Krycek. "The earth didn’t exactly move for you, did it?" Before Mulder could respond, he went on. "Oh, I give you credit. She left here a very happy camper, but you got very little, if nothing from it."

"She turned out not to be my type...simple as that."

"No, she wasn’t your type at all, you’re right about that." He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "It’s just you and me here, Mulder. Tell me what your type really is."

Mulder shrugged. "My tastes run more to petite redheads."

"Scully?!?" Krycek roared with bitter laughter. "Get off it!"

"You asked, and not that it’s any of you fucking business, but I told you. I’ve wanted Scully for years, now!"

"That’s the biggest bunch of shit I’ve ever heard! You don’t want her! Sure, you’re partners, and sure you spend more time together than most married couples, but there’s about as much sexual attraction between you two as there is between that coffee table and your couch! Do you know an Alexandra or an Alexis?"

Mulder knitted his brows and placed his hands low on his hips. "What?"

"Answer."

"No! What the hell has that got to do with anything?"

"I’ve watched you some nights, in front of the TV, on the couch...jerking off."

"Is there no fucking part of my life that’s mine alone?"

Krycek answered his question with a question. "Did you know I could read lips?"

"So?"

"I’ve watched you touching yourself, stroking you cock with such gentle hands..."

Mulder’s respiration deepened.

"I’ve seen you mouth the name ‘Alex’ on more than one occasion."

Mulder was stricken. He looked as though his knees would give out on him at any moment. Krycek pressed on. "Were you imagining that I was here with you?"

"No."

"That it was my tongue sliding up and down on you, instead of your fingers?"

"No!"

Mulder practically fell backward against the desk. Krycek advanced and stood before him.

"Look at yourself. You’re wrecked. All because of a few words that I said. What would happen right now if I touched you?"

Mulder gritted his teeth. "I’d break your fucking hand."

"Cut the shit Fox," Krycek said gently. "You’re not fooling either one of us. Give in," he whispered as his hand slid tentatively up Mulder’s chest to the wild pulse in his throat. "Let me give you what you need."

Mulder whimpered softly as he felt the warm pressure of this mortal enemy’s lips against his. Krycek brushed against his mouth a couple of times before pulling away. "Tell me what you want, Fox. You can have me any way you want me. Just tell me."

For a moment, it looked as though Mulder would do just that - just for a moment. Suddenly, violently, he shoved Krycek away.

"Get out! Get the fuck out of here and don’t you ever let me see your face again, or I swear, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!"

He picked up the nearest object - the phone - and hurled it against the wall. He stumbled toward the sofa, but before he could make it, crumpled to the floor and lay there, arms wrapped around himself, shuddering.

Krycek swore softly and kneeled beside Mulder’s prone body. Carefully, he lay behind him and tucked his arm around his chest.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this to you. I just came here to plant the camera. And I only did that because it was a way for me to keep some kind of physical contact with you. I never intended to actually meet up with you. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken with you. I missed your voice. I missed your smell. I never intended to tell you. I knew that this would turn your life inside out and still, I did it." He paused for a second, then continued. "You’re right about me. All the times you called me a dirty, worthless son of a bitch, you were right. The only real thing in my life was my feelings for you. And now I’ve gone and blown that to hell."

Mulder didn’t move. Krycek wasn’t even sure he was breathing. He lay there, eyes closed, arms still wrapped tightly around himself.

"I’m leaving, Fox," Krycek murmured in his ear. "I promise you, you’ll never see me again." He attempted to get up, but was prevented by Mulder’s hand, which had closed around the wrist draped over is chest.

"Don’t go. Please....Alex."

Shocked green eyes met glazed hazel eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Mulder nodded slowly. "Don’t leave."

The man who Alex Krycek had always considered to be the toughest, most self-assured person he’d ever known, had suddenly taken on a whole new persona. So much hurt, so much...insecurity and need. Krycek’s heart pounded in his chest.

He resettled his body and pulled Mulder tightly against it. "I won’t leave you," he whispered into his hair. "I promise."

They lay together on the floor in silence for a while, then Mulder stirred slightly. "I’m so tired," he said, almost inaudibly.

"Why don’t you go to bed?" Krycek smiled into the back of his neck. "I give you my word, I won’t kill you in your sleep."

"You’re word isn’t worth a whole hell of a lot, Krycek."

"What happened to ‘Alex’?"

No answer.

He slipped his hand under Mulder’s cheek and turned his face, so that they were eye to eye.

"You’ve got no reason in the world to trust me but...I won’t hurt you. Now, you’ll either believe that, or you won’t."

"What, are there a couple of goons waiting in the shadows to take care of me, for you?"

Krycek shook his head, vehemently. "No. No, no. There’s no one waiting anywhere...not that I know of, anyway. And even if there was...they’d have to come through me to get to you."

Mulder shifted onto his back and stared up into those incredibly deep green eyes. "So, I’m supposed to believe that while I’m sleeping, you’re going to stand guard over me?"

Krycek shrugged one shoulder. "If that’s what you want to call it. I’ll just hang out and watch TV or something. It’s been a long, long time since I spent an evening in a warm apartment just doing nothing."

Mulder regarded him through half-closed lids. "Where do you live?"

Krycek’s gaze fell to a patch of carpet, just beyond Mulder’s head. "Nowhere."

"You gotta sleep somewhere."

"Usually, I just grab a motel room wherever I happen to be." Not waiting for the next question, Krycek patted him gently on the chest and said, "Come on, get up. Time for bed." He hoisted Mulder up and started to steer him toward the bedroom.

"I usually just crash on the sofa."

"You ever think that maybe that’s the reason why you don’t sleep well?"

"You watch me all night, or what?"

"Sometimes."

"That’s more than just a little unnerving, Krycek."

"Not any more so than anything else I’ve said to you tonight, I’ll bet."

Mulder looked away and said nothing.

"Never mind. Come on."

Krycek led him without protest, to the bedroom. When they reached the bed, Mulder dropped down onto it and stretched out on his back.

"Aren’t you even going to undress?"

"Too tired."

"Want me to help you?"

"No," he snapped, more irritated with himself for considering the offer, than he was with Krycek for making it.

Krycek held is hands up in a defensive gesture. "Okay, okay, if you want to sleep with all your clothes on..."

"I do."

"Fine. The important thing is that you get some sleep. Close your eyes."

Mulder stared up at him. Krycek held his hands out to his sides, palms upturned and raised his eyebrows. Mulder emitted a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. Krycek moved away from the bed and slumped down in the room’s only chair, about six feet away. He watched quietly, as within the span of roughly ten minutes, Mulder shifted position at least five times. He moved again, onto his right side. Then seconds later...

"Krycek?"

"Hmm?"

"You remember when I said I was tired?"

"Yeah. Apparently you don’t..."

"I didn’t just mean that I was sleepy."

"What else did you mean? What else are you tired of?"

"Everything." His back remained to Krycek as he spoke. "All of it. I feel like a rat in a maze, searching for that crumb of cheese at the end and every time I get close, every time I’m about to get to it, somebody changes the maze and I have to start all over. I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t mind all the shit, you know? I wouldn’t mind so much if at the end, there was something I could hold on to. Something tangible. Proof that it isn’t all for nothing." Krycek rose from the chair and came to sit at the edge of the bed. He laid a hand on Mulder’s shoulder and massaged lightly. Mulder continued in his soft monotone. "Sometimes I think about just giving it all up. Turning in my badge and moving to Idaho."

Soft laughter came from behind him. "Idaho?"

"Yup. Become a potato farmer."

"You know, that actually doesn’t sound all that bad. Think there might be room on the old homestead for an extra hand?"

"You like potatoes?"

"Well...they don’t lie, they’ve got no hidden agendas and you don’t have to worry that they’re all out to get you."

Mulder smiled sadly into his pillow. "Yeah."

"It’s after twelve-thirty. Go to sleep."

Krycek reluctantly pulled his hand from the warmth of Mulder’s shoulder and went back to his chair. Several minutes later, Mulder’s sleepy voice reached his ears.

"Krycek?"

"Now what?"

"If I wake up dead tomorrow, I’m going to be really pissed."

An easy smile graced his partially swollen lips. He leaned his head back against the chair. "Goodnight, Fox."

"Mulder."

Krycek’s eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright.

"Jesus Christ," he grated. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Mulder sat on the floor, in front of the chair, intently observing the man whom he was positive, until last night, had been his sworn enemy.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Krycek looked around. "What time is it?"

"After four."

"Have you been awake long?"

Mulder shrugged. "Few minutes, I guess."

Krycek’s brow creased. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I’m still alive."

"Yeah....imagine that."

"You kept your word."

"Mulder, go back to bed. You need a little more than four hours..."

Mulder ignored his words. "Have you moved out of this chair?"

"No."

"You’re going to be stiff, sleeping like this."

"I’ve slept in much worse positions." A faint smile crossed his lips. "You’re worried about me?"

Mulder turned away from his warm stare. Krycek pitched forward and cupped his cheek in his hand. His thumb brushed back and forth across the light stubble. "Please look at me." Mulder did as he was asked and met the rapidly growing heat of Krycek’s stare. "Can we stop this? I really would like to just stop it."

"Stop what?"

"This pretense. This...fucking game we’re playing. You know, normally I like a good game...especially when I’m playing against an equal...like you. But this is no time for that. I want you...like you wouldn’t believe. And you want me. Now if you can’t admit that out loud, if you need help, I’ll give it to you. I’ll go get your gun and hold it to your head." He snapped his fingers. "It was rape. I forced you. You didn’t want any part of it..." he stroked Mulder’s cheek, "no matter how many times you screamed my name...no matter how hard you came. The guilt is all off you. Will that work for you?"

Mulder’s eyes glittered with anger. He slapped Krycek’s hand away. "Fuck you."

"Please do."

He saw Mulder’s body tense and instinctively knew that another bloody lip was coming his way. He decided to head it off. He sprang from the chair and pushed Mulder to the floor. He held him there, by bringing his full weight down upon his chest. Mulder roared his fury.

"Get off me, you son of a bitch!"

"Not until you calm down."

"Get off!"

"You don’t sound calm."

"I’ll kill you, you asshole! I swear to Christ..."

The rest of his tirade was abruptly cut off as Krycek’s lips covered his. As much as he didn’t want it to, his body immediately began to respond. The vibration of his soft moan against Krycek’s mouth, drew an almost violent reaction from the younger man. His fingers clutched in Mulder’s thick golden brown hair and he forced his tongue into the sweet warmth of his mouth. There was a brief struggle before Mulder’s body began to relax and submit to the sensual assault. Slowly, his hands traveled up Krycek’s back. They stroked and massaged the taut muscles as his tongue twined around the one invading his mouth.

Krycek let out a satisfied groan as he felt the ever hardening length of Mulder’s erection against his thigh. He pulled away just far enough to mumble against his mouth. "I can give you what you want." He licked that exquisite lower lip. "I can give you anything you need. I’m the only one who can. Admit it...to yourself, at least."

Mulder’s eyes glazed over as he looked up at the man who wanted so desperately to become his lover. His breaths came fast and shallow and his body shook uncontrollably.

Krycek smoothed the hair back from his face. "Talk to me, Fox. Tell me what you want."

Mulder closed his eyes. "It was you."

"What was me?"

"It was you I was thinking about. I can’t get off anymore, unless I do."

Krycek stroked his outer thigh and breathed into his ear. "I’m here now, baby. Alex will take care of all your needs."

The tears that had been gathering in Mulder’s eyes, spilled over and ran down the sides of his face. Krycek lowered his head and licked the dampness away. The taste of Mulder’s tears on his tongue was like nectar. He drew back a few inches and asked softly, "Why are you crying?"

"Because," Mulder answered even softer, "I want you and I hate myself for it."

"You hate yourself enough already. You don’t need to find another reason." Krycek’s hand slipped between their hips and stroked Mulder’s raging erection through the loose suit pants. "I know how you hate lies..." he squeezed the solid thickness under his hand. " This is the truth. Don’t deny it."

Mulder reached up and tentatively stroked the tips of his fingers across Krycek’s lips, pausing on the cut he’d given him just a few hours before. His thumb stroked it slowly and he was rewarded with a soft groan. Krycek allowed him a few more seconds of exploration, before taking two fingers into his mouth.

What could only be described as an electrical surge, shot through the middle of Mulder’s body. "Jesus," he moaned through gritted teeth. "Alex..."

Krycek sucked his fingers deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. Mulder’s head rolled on the hardwood and his breath came in ragged gasps.

Cool air replaced moist warmth as Krycek abruptly released Mulder’s fingers. "Let’s get comfortable."

Mulder was in no condition to protest, as he was pulled to his feet and led to the bed. Krycek pushed him down onto the mattress then stepped back. His eyes stayed riveted on Mulder’s as he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. He almost let it drop to the floor, then thought better of it. He extended his arm and held the shirt out in offering. Mulder hesitantly reached forward and took it from his loose grip. He laid it carefully in his lap and absently stroked the black cotton while turning his eyes back to admire the lean, muscular torso of his soon-to-be lover.

Krycek’s hand dropped to the waist of his jeans and undid the button. The sound of the zipper as it worked its way down the track, echoed in Mulder’s head. He closed his eyes against the sound and reopened them when it had stopped. Krycek stood motionless before him, waiting. Mulder drew a shaky breath and nodded. The faded Levis and shoes came off.

It’s on now, Mulder thought to himself, as his eyes tried to take in everything he saw before him, at once. Krycek moved toward him with feline grace. He reached for the hand that was still caressing his shirt and placed it against his chest. His eyes glittered in the near darkness of the room as he moved Mulder’s hand up and down. "Pet this."

Mulder’s mouth went suddenly dry. His hand broke from Krycek’s control and wandered of its own accord, across the span of his chest. His fingertips lovingly brushed one hard nipple. Hearing the quick intake of breath, fueled his courage. His other hand came up to pay equal attention to the other nipple Krycek gritted his teeth and endured the erotic torture, determined to let Mulder move at his own pace.

Mulder’s hands slipped downward, over the solid contours of his abdomen. Slowly, he leaned in and touched his lips to the overheated flesh. A clipped grunt escaped Krycek’s throat. He wanted so much to plunge his fingers into that silky golden brown hair and force Mulder’s mouth down over his aching cock, but he fought the urge with every ounce of strength he could summon.

Mulder’s hands moved to Krycek’s waist as his mouth slipped lower, licking and kissing the salty sweet skin. He froze, however, as he felt the tip of his erection, bobbing against his chin. Krycek held his breath and waited. Only disappointment followed.

"I can’t, I..." Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his hands to the bed. Gentle fingers tilted his chin up.

"Open your eyes, Fox."

Thick, honey brown lashes lifted half way. The back of Krycek’s hand stroked his face softly, again and again. "It’s okay," he whispered soothingly. "You don’t have to."

Mulder tried to swallow against the dryness in his throat. "But..."

"But nothing. Let me take care of you." He reached down and started to undo the buttons on Mulder’s shirt . "Just relax and... trust me." He pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. "Lay back." Mulder did as he instructed, then let Krycek remove his pants and grey boxer-briefs. His eyes dilated to near blackness as he viewed the long, muscular body, stretched out before him. "Incredible," he murmured as he bent to capture a hard brown nipple in his mouth. Mulder whimpered and his body began to tremble.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Krycek retrieved the light blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it up over them, then gently settled his weight on top of Mulder. "Is that better?"

"Better."

Stone brushed against stone as Krycek shifted his position.

"Ohhh, God..."

"Do you like that?" Krycek pushed against him.

"Jesus, yes."

"How about this?" He reached down between them taking both cocks in his hand and began caressing them. Mulder arched his back and cried out sharply. "Alex!"

"That’s one..."

"Please....stop...stop....please!"

"Why?"

"I’m going to come any second now, and I don’t..."

"You don’t what?"

"Not so soon. Not...more...I want more."

Krycek smiled triumphantly. "How much more more, baby?"

"I...I don’t know."

"I want to give you everything." Krycek squeezed them together in his hand. "Tell me your deepest, darkest desires." He slid his tongue across Mulder’s trembling lips. "I want to know all your most intimate fantasies. I’ll fulfill them all...one by one." Mulder sighed against his mouth. "Tell me, Fox."

"I want..." he stopped, then started again. "Just...show me. Make me understand this."

"Okay. I understand, if that’s all you can handle right now. There’ll be time enough for the rest."

Long, smooth fingers caressed the absurdly beautiful features of the face that, for years now, had haunted dreams and occupied many a waking thought. Lips, soft but insistent, kissed and teased, leaving the beneficiary of their attention writhing in agonizing bliss.

Slowly, painfully, Krycek worked his way downward, leaving a path of tingling warmth in his wake. He heard the sharp intake of breath come from somewhere above his head, as his cheek brushed ever so lightly against Mulder’s straining erection. He’d intended to completely ignore it for a while - a little payback for the swollen lip, but Mulder’s reaction to his touches was driving him out of his mind. He couldn’t wait. He had to...

That first sweet touch of Krycek’s tongue to the head of his cock drew a strangled moan from Mulder. His fingers clenched in the sheets in an effort to keep them from pulling that lovely dark hair out of its owner’s head.

Krycek continued to tease his former partner with quick, feathery flicks of his tongue, until a drop of viscous fluid appeared and started to dribble down the long shaft. Without warning, his mouth engulfed the head, greedily sucking at it and removing all traces of moisture.

Mulder arched upward, trying to thrust deeper. "Alex!"

Krycek released him and slid up his chest so that they were face to face. His eyes sparkled. "That’s two."

Mulder growled his frustration. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Krycek smirked at him. "I’m counting the amount of times you scream my name."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Nope." He kissed Mulder deeply, letting him taste himself. When he pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. "Do me a favor."

"What?"

Another kiss.

"Say it the way you do when you’re alone."

Mulder opened his mouth to speak, then fell silent. Krycek stared intently at him for a few seconds, then bestowed one last kiss on his parted lips, before again moving south. Mulder winced as he nipped at the soft skin on his stomach. Not that it hurt, really. He was just so over stimulated, that the slightest touch was magnified ten times over. Krycek lingered a while longer, then continued his journey downward, this time completely ignoring that which was begging for his attention. He moved from the inside of one strong thigh to the other, first biting gently, then soothing. Mulder twisted and moaned under his touch, then gasped aloud as Krycek took his testicles into his open mouth, worshiping them with his tongue.

For so long, Alex Krycek spent nights fantasizing about this, especially at those times when it looked like he would never see the light of day again...and there were so many of those. His fantasies were all he had at those times, and he’d often wished feverishly, that he could have made just one of them a reality before he died. Now, by some bizarre twist of fate, he was here...in the apartment of the object of his fantasies, doing things that he was sure he’d only ever dream about. Life had never been this kind to him.

Mulder’s head spun. He was at the very edge of a precipice, ready...willing to fall. No thoughts, other than those of intense hunger and need, could pass through the fog that surrounded him. It hurt. He knew that, too. And if the pain wasn’t relieved soon, he didn’t know that he could survive it. As if his thoughts had been read, he felt the wet heat of his lover’s mouth, enveloping his rigid cock, taking in half of its length, only to withdraw and then slide back over it.

"Alex..."

That was it. That rough, throaty whisper. That was the way he’d imagined Mulder had said his name while masturbating alone, on those dark, lonely nights. The vibration from his satisfied groan, only served to excite Mulder further. Instinctively, he began to move his hips, thrusting in and out of Krycek’s mouth. Krycek began to thrust as well, rubbing himself against the cotton covered mattress.

He stopped his movements but encouraged Mulder to continue his. He grasped the lean hips and pulled them forward, bringing him fully into his mouth. He could feel the head pushing against the back of his throat. He relaxed the muscles and encouraged Mulder to push deeper. His eyes traveled upward to see his lover’s face. Beautiful. He would have been willing to bet that Mulder had never felt anything this good before. He sure as hell knew that he hadn’t. He began to move his head in perfect cadence with the other’s hips. The pace quickened and he knew from Mulder’s increasingly anguished cries, that he was almost there. He took a deep breath through his nose and prepared himself. Mulder gave one last vicious thrust and emitted a long, sobbing groan as he emptied himself into Krycek’s mouth. The sudden rush of bitter fluid gagged the man, but he refused to let go until he’d drained him of every drop.

When it was completely over, he discreetly cleaned the residual semen from his mouth and chin, then slid up and wrapped an arm around Mulder’s still heaving chest. He studied his flushed face with loving interest. The hazel eyes were still closed, those full, luscious lips were parted and gasping for breath. How he ached to feel those lips around his own still throbbing erection.

Krycek lay quietly, stroking the moderate sprinkling of golden hairs that covered Mulder’s chest, while he recovered. A few minutes went by, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Finally," he smiled. "I was beginning to think that I’d killed you."

Mulder’s eyes scanned the ceiling. He seemed a bit dazed. Then Krycek’s heart sank as a different look replaced the confusion.

"Oh my God," Mulder whispered. "Oh, God."

"What is it?" He wondered if Mulder could hear the rising panic in his voice. "What’s wrong?"

Mulder lay silent, trying to take it all in. The realization of it hit like thunder, a few seconds later. Unable to meet Krycek’s eye, he quickly slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Krycek got up and followed. He didn’t open the door though, only leaned his head against it and listened, broken hearted, to the sound of Mulder, vomiting.

When he was done, Mulder stood weakly and looked toward the door. Jesus. He should go back and face this. Unfortunately, what he should do and what he was able to do, were two different things. He lowered the toilet lid and sat heavily.

He once again looked toward the door and wondered how long Krycek would wait out there, before coming in. He reached out and quickly locked the door, then jumped up and turned the shower on, full hot. He got in and gritted his teeth as the steaming water pounded his skin. For fifteen minutes, he scrubbed, trying to remove Krycek’s smell...the feel of his hands and mouth. Finally, he turned the water off and dried himself. He grabbed his robe from the hook on the back of the door and threw it on, belting it tightly. He walked to the sink and picked up his toothbrush. He squeezed a glob of Crest onto the bristles and brushed his teeth till they squeaked.

Okay, now what? He looked into the mirror. You’ve done everything you could possibly do in here. He turned away from his reflection, unable to face himself. Christ, if you can’t look at yourself, how the hell are you going to look at him? He leaned against the sink and stood that way for a long while, trying to convince himself to open the door. Finally, he did.

Silence greeted him as he walked slowly into the bedroom, eyes cast downward. What the hell to say? Maybe he should just remain quiet and let Alex....Krycek...talk first. He leaned back against the wall, staring at a worn spot on the hardwood floor. Still, all was quiet. Finally, he risked a glance at the bed. It was empty. He scanned the room and found no one there. Then he noticed that Krycek’s clothes were gone. He pushed himself away from the wall and stepped into the living room, where he was met with more emptiness. A small square of paper was tacked to the door. He pulled it off and stared down at it, not knowing how to feel about the two word message. He walked over to the sofa and lowered himself onto it. He looked back at the paper in his hand, and read aloud.

"Forgive me."

Alex Krycek stood, protected from view by two large trees, looking up at the window of apartment number forty-two. The heavy morning mist gave way to a cold rain. Perfect.

He hadn’t wanted to leave, but fear of Mulder’s complete rejection prompted his departure. He couldn’t handle that. Not after...he gave himself a mental shake. How could you be so stupid? So fucking weak? Was a night with him really worth risking your life? His eyes closed involuntarily, as he remembered what had happened between them, just a couple of short hours ago. There was only one answer to his question. He opened his eyes and turned to lean back against one of the trees. At least the next time your ass is in a sling, and death is inevitable, you’ll have this to reflect on. Well...maybe not all of it.

He glanced carefully around the quiet neighborhood, then flipped the collar of his jacket up, and walked away.

END

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