From: syzygyshan@warpmail.net
Date: 23 Feb 2004 07:34:09 -0800
Subject: [atxc-pi] NEW: Ordinary Man -NC-17- (0/2)
Source: atxc

Title: Ordinary Man 
Author: Shannon Kizzia 
Feedback Email: syzygyshan@warpmail.net 
Author's Website: http://hegalplace.com/shannon/ 
Archive at Gossamer: Yes to Gossamer 
Status: NEW - Standalone 
Size: 32k 
Category: Drama, Angst 
Pairings: Mulder/Krycek 
Rating: NC-17 
Gossamer Category: Story ~ Angst ~ Slash 
Summary: You Know Who is addicted to You Know What. Enter Krycek?new
addiction.
 
Part 1
Please see part 0 (template) for story information.

Ordinary Man

by Shannon Kizzia (shannon@hegalplace.com)

Website:  http://hegalplace.com/shannon/

Pairing:  M/K

Rating:  NC-17 (though it wasn't supposed to be...grrrrr...)

Keywords:  Brand X post-ep, Krycek POV, angst, seduction

Spoilers:  Sein Un Zeit, Closure, all things, Brand X.  (A little for
Requiem, I guess you could say, although it hasn't happened yet.  In
this story, Krycek's just back from Tunisia.)

Summary:  You Know Who is addicted to You Know What.  Enter
Krycek...new addiction.

Archive:  Sure!  Tell me where, please, so I can visit!

Date of First Posting: 2/22/04

Disclaimer:  Do I really have to keep doing this?  Blarg!!  NOT MINE! 
GRRR!

Author's Notes:  This was supposed to be a short, little, PG-13
Krycek vignette.  Blame it on Mulder that it's not.  He demanded more
and he got it.  Also, I don't condone the smoking of cigarettes and do
not mean to glorify it here in any way.  (I don't condemn it, either,
for my smoking readers out there, so read without feeling chastised.
I'm Switzerland!   Have I covered my bases?  LOL!)

.............

I really wasn't wanting to come here.  But walking takes you places. 
You know?  Places you didn't know you were going.  Takes some people
to mountains.  Others  to gurus or bars or work or the gym.

It brought me here.  Something brought me here.  Maybe I did.  That
little spot  in me that's stained with him.  The part that isn't
black, but bright, searing red.  The part that wants.

There's not a lot of wanting in me anymore.

It's cold.  My hands hurt.  Even the plastic one.  It's cold.  Siberia
cold.

His lights are off, but his television is on.  Blue lights flash like
police cruisers pulling someone over.  I stand on the curb. 
Watching.

His window opens.  The bedroom window.  But it's cold.  I frown and
shrink into  more shadows.  I watch.

I see his hand curl around the edge of the window, and then he climbs
out onto the fire escape.  He puts his hands in his pockets, the
breath billowing from his mouth, and he looks so alive.  He's cold.

He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulls one out, and
lights it up.

My lips part as I watch him inhale.  He takes the thick, pungent smoke
into his  body, and I feel paralyzed by the cold.

I quit smoking nine years ago.  Nine years, three months, and four
days.  It was right before I joined the Academy.  It was this crazy
time in my life when I decided to try on the white hat...quell my evil
ways.

I'd always been kind of bad.  An evil streak ran through me from
birth.  My mother used to worry over this birthmark I have on the back
of my head.  She put me in hats...licked her thumb and worried at it
as though it could come off.  She'd whisper under her breath in
Russian.  And she'd lick her work-worn thumb and rub until I was red
and trying not to cry.

When I decided to go straight, the smoking was the first thing to go. 
I filled  out my app for the Academy and stubbed out my last
cigarette.  I used to smoke Barclay's because the filter felt good in
my mouth.  Like a dick that was about  to get hard.  Firm, but soft.

I've never had Mulder's dick in my mouth.  But he kissed me once. 
After the Cole case.  In my hotel room.  We had some beers together,
and on his way out he kissed me.  He didn't mean to.  The devil got
him.  I could tell it just took him, and I watched him lean in and
press his lips to mine.  It was a scared kiss.  And we never spoke of
it again.

His bottom lip was like the filter of a cigarette.  I still remember
how it fit  between mine.

Now he's smoking.

After years of wearing the white hat.  I'd thought I'd wanted him to
take it off.  I thought I wanted this.

Shit, I know what I'm doing.  The whole pedestal thing.  I know he'd
kick my ass if he knew.  It's not a fair thing to do, even to a true
hero like him.  But part of me hurts watching him put that thing in
his mouth and drag.  I'm actually fighting back tears.

"You ASSHOLE!!!!"

He starts and I realize that was me.  I yelled that.  I yelled up to
him from my black shadows.

He takes the railing in both hands, leaning over.  The cigarette held
between a  long index finger and the sensuously crooked middle.  He
squints to find me.  Always wanting to find me.  His eyes seeking my
face, his fist seeking my cheek, his narrow hips seeking the cradle of
my thighs while he shoves his gun between my eyes like some kind of
vigilante justice.

Last time he saw me, it was me with his gun.

His cigarette sends delicate tendrils of itself skyward in smoke and
then loses  itself to the street in ash.  I watch the ash fall,
breathless, and I start crying.

I step forward.

"Fuck you, Mulder!"

I watch him blink, the steaming breaths faster now, short and hard.

I walk forward, across the deserted street, the asphalt damp with dew.
 We're in some kind of fucking Film Noir, him and me.  Everything
plays so cinematic.   Like I'm outside myself as I approach, or my
actual self is still sweating in a  jam-packed cell on the other side
of the world just thinking of him, of this...all of it my imagination
or hallucination.

But then he's above me.  Him above, me below.  He's over me like a God
or a lover.  Cast your judgment and then fuck your dick inside like
you've always wanted to...

But I can feel a shift as my chest aches.  I'm the one standing in
judgment now.  I'm the one.  I'm the fucking one.  I hate him.

"What are you doing, Krycek?"

He's not yelling.  I am.

"Goddamn you!  You selfish son of a bitch!"

He frowns down on me, his face so soft in the late night, his eyes a
warm brown  that glisten wet with the changing streetlight's
reflection.

"What...?"  he asks.  "What's going on?"  Only now does he reach for
his gun.  It's not there.

"Shut up!" a neighbor yells from the recesses of the building.  I
blink at Mulder, stinging.  My eyes, my skin...I'm stinging cold.

He looks around, right then left, then he looks down at me, sighing. 
He backs away from the railing and I think he's going to go inside. 
Instead he puts his  hand to his forehead, over his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, voice shaking.  He sighs again,
but it's hard and angry.  "What are you DOING HERE?!"  And he's
looking down on me again, teeth gritting, hand gripping the rail.

"I'm gonna call the cops!" the disembodied voice yells.

He rolls his eyes as still I don't and can't answer.

"Come up," he whispers, his voice carrying so that it sounds like his
lips are at my ear.

I stare at him and he throws his head back.  He takes a short drag and
blows it  out, eyes closed.  "Just do it," he hisses.  Then he
whispers again, "Come up."

I blink once slowly and then feel myself moving toward his doorway,
into the lobby, into the insulated elevator, its silence like cotton
doom.  I move down the hall.  I see my hand reach for the doorknob,
then I'm in his apartment and my ears open again.  I move through the
space, dream-like and afraid.  I go to his bedroom doorway...through
it.  I see the bed, rumpled sheets as though he really does sleep
there.  The cold wind flutters some papers on his nightstand
to the floor.  My eyes are drawn to the open window and his huddled
form beyond.  Closer now, bigger now...real.

I move across the room and hesitate at the sill.  He doesn't move
except to turn his head slightly, giving me his chin-dipped
profile...a warning that he may actually look at me, though for now
he's staring at the rusty metal floor.

I take a breath...and climb out.

He stands with his hands wrapped around his elbows.  He must be
freezing.

His voice is rough when he speaks.  "Why are you here, Krycek?"

I remember my rage at seeing him light up.

"Are those Morley's, Mulder?"  I ask quietly but far from gently.

His head snaps up and those moss-covered eyes lock me down, revealing
a fire I thought I'd never see again.  I escaped a Tunisian prison to
see those eyes.  And now that I'm here...in them...

"Yeah," he mutters.  "They are.  What the fuck do you care, Krycek?" 
He looks down, flicking the ash off mirthlessly.  "I thought this shit
turned you on."

My eyes narrow.  What does he think...that I fucked that amoral sack
of shit?  That I let him touch me?  Am I a whore to him?

"Fuck you," I growl.

He breathes a humorless laugh.  Then he looks up at me with a derisive
smile that looks ugly on his lips.  "Want one?"  He holds the
smoldering stick up, filter pointing at my lips.

Goddamn him.

I take a shuddering breath, the imagery overloading me with want. 
Him, offering it to me like sex.  Offering it wet from his
mouth...that mouth...from  between Mulder's lips.  The longing pulls
me in a sway toward him.  Shit, him offering me anything.  The
stinging smell and the remembered pull on my lungs.   The aching
desire for Mulder to be BAD.  To share his newfound sin with him. 
Darkness.  Together.  Like some Anne Rice paperback best-seller.

I shake my head.  I swallow it down.  It's not what I want.  I don't
want him down here with me.

"Why?"

It's my voice, from my lips and throat, but it's foreign sounding.

"Why what, Alex?" he sighs.  Then he takes a drag.

I stare at him, frowning slightly, until he looks at me again, then
back down to the cigarette in his hand.

"If you're here on some anti-smoking campaign, I hope you brought some
gum and patches, `cause just cussing at me isn't gonna do it."  Then
he laughs.  Deep and pained.  He takes one more drag and throws the
stub over the side.

"You're freezing,"  I tell him.  "Go in."

It's been seven years.  I think it's time I boss him around a little.

He shakes his head.  "I don't like it in there."  He eyes his rumpled
bed surreptitiously and wraps his arms tighter around himself,
shivering.

Without thinking, I let my jacket slip from my shoulders.  I shrug my
prosthetic out of it and hold the leather out to him.  He looks at it
for a moment, laughing shortly again.  Then he looks up at my face and
sobers.

"Take it," I tell him.

He looks down at it again.  He shivers.  His fingers brush it.

"This doesn't mean we're going steady or anything," he murmurs.

He puts my jacket on.  It settles around his shoulders, big and bulky,
like his  big brother's.  He shoves his hands in the pockets and
breathes out into the bleak city night.

"Why is it so fucking cold?" he grits out.  "It's March."  He looks at
me, assessing something though I'm unsure what.  Then he turns his
gaze out toward the street again.  His jaw tightens.   "I hate the
cold."

I move forward a little more, taking hold of the cold metal railing
and coming to stand right beside him, our arms nearly touching.  Well,
his arm, my place holder.  I look down at my flesh hand gripping the
bar.  It's nearly as numb as  the other one.

His tone is sarcastic when he asks, "Mind if I have another?"  He
pulls a cigarette from his jeans pocket and holds it up.

I narrow my eyes at him.  "What do you think you're doing?"

He puts the cigarette in his mouth and covers the lighter as he thumbs
it lit, tilting his head like a pro.  "What do you mean?" he asks
around it.

He looks like James Dean, standing there in my jacket and smoking his
Morley's.  Yet how could he ask me that?

"You...you're better than this," I hiss at him, too cold to mince
words.  Funny.  About a month ago, I couldn't imagine ever being cold
again.  Or sleeping.  Or fucking who I chose.

He looks at me.  Takes a drag.  "I am?" he asks blandly.

I hold the railing in a tight fist, nearly shaking.  I want my hand
around his throat.  I want my face in his.  I want him to understand.

"Don't you get that?" I ask.  My lashes flutter over my tears.  How
can he not understand?

"That I'm...better..."  he whispers.  He laughs softly, drawing the
smoke deeply in and exhaling leisurely.  "I'm just an ordinary man,
Alex."

He says it like I'm not here.

I grab the cigarette on its way to his mouth and throw it over the
fire escape.  I take his shoulder and shake him.  I grasp my jacket in
a fist and shake him in it.

"You think you get to decide that?" I growl at him.  I shake him. 
"Huh?  Huh, Mulder?  You asshole, you don't even know who you are!"

I shake him one last time and then push him away from me, turning and
taking the railing once more, afraid I'll fall or hit him.

He stands behind me for a silent moment.  But then I feel his hand on
my shoulder.  I jump, but his hand just lies there, a non-violent
thing.  The world I left when I got thrown in that hellhole is gone, I
think.  The man I thought I knew...

His hand moves...skids along my neck, fingers tickling me.  Then he's
close and  his hand is pulling gently in my hair and he's starting to
kiss my neck.

FUCK!

My knees go weak as all my breath leaves me and my cock goes rock
hard.

He breathes hard as his tongue slides over me and his lips suck at the
tendon.

I hold my breath, now.  Even as my head tilts for him.  I'm
light-headed.  Dying...I'm dying...  Why is he doing this?  I feel my
own jacket brush my back;  I smell the smoke on his breath.  His other
hand steals around my body from behind and flattens across my stomach,
pulling me back.

"Who am I, Alex?" he whispers on the edge of a sob.  He licks behind
my ear.  "Tell me who I am."

I groan and close my eyes.  His warm breath on my neck is enough to
almost make  me come.  His kisses are like an interrogation.  They hit
hard and then sooth the ache they leave behind.  They are
unplanned...his mouth moving hungrily and  without the artifice of
seduction.

He whispers into my ear, "Show me..."

He wants me to show him.

I whine and swallow, turning in his arms.  I push him, unseeing, and
back him against his one closed window.  I grip my jacket and latch my
mouth onto his.  I want to taste his sin.  Even as I want to show him
what it is that brings me back to him always...that blinding light of
him.  His good.

I push my tongue into his mouth...his hot, smoky mouth.  He tastes a
little evil now.  I stroke his tongue with mine, licking my sin onto
him...luxuriating  in the sameness.  He moans into my mouth, and I
work my hand down to unbutton his jeans, then pull the zipper down.

His mouth rips from mine.  "Alex..."

I grip the denim and cotton of his briefs alike and jerk down blindly.
 "You said show you," I tell him.  "Mulder....  Don't you want it?"

I'm flying.

He whines, turning his head.  I take advantage and open my mouth on
his neck, even as I work his cock out a little roughly.  Something in
me screams to do this differently.  That doing it this way...after all
this time...will just show him all the wrong things.  But I can't stop
myself.  I can't stop this.  If this is what I get of him, I won't
demand more.  I'll bring him off in my mouth and at least he'll know
he's worth my dignity.  Whatever the hell that means.

I slide to my knees in front of him and stroke my hand up his length,
guiding him inside my mouth without thought.  I moan around him, thick
inside me, and work my head back and forth.

"Gggaaaahh!  Alex!" he hisses.

Mulder's voice above me...  Mulder's cock in my mouth.  Surrounded by
Mulder.  God...

I look up into his face as I blow him.  His hands don't know where to
be.  He scratches at the window pane...lifts a hand and runs it
through his hair restlessly as the other grabs the sill.  I like the
way my jacket moves on him.

Finally, just when I've got a good rhythm going and I can feel his
shaft pounding in my mouth with his pulse, he takes my head.  "Nooo,"
he whispers.  "Don't...  Don't leave..."  He strokes his hand over my
head once roughly, but then pulls out, his cock glistening with my
spit.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he breathes, hurrying to stuff his erection back into his
jeans, pulling on them in a panic and doing them back up.  He crawls
back inside his apartment.  I wipe my mouth and follow after a moment.
 He's standing at his dresser, hands splayed on the scratched wood.

"Mulder..."  I whisper, afraid of not knowing what to say to him.  I
want to beg him to turn around and bare his cock once more so I can
eat it down again.   For me...just this once...  Seven years of
repression, Mulder.

He swallows.  "I...  Maybe you should go," he says.  But it's shaky
and quiet.   I can see his face in the mirror he won't look in.

He said don't leave.

I walk past him slowly.  I'm scared to get too close.  I don't want to
leave.  I remember the frightened kiss he gave me that night over six
years ago.  Why do we want this?  Why do we want it when we can't have
it?

He's no ordinary man.  And neither am I.   We never will be.

Maybe I should go.

I reach the doorway.

"Alex."

I stop.  I stay very still.  I wait for him to take an unsteady
breath.

"Did you know she was dead?...My sister?"

Oh God...  How could they?   Did they?

"Mulder..." I croak.

"No..." he murmurs.  "I'm okay.  I just...didn't know if you knew."

I shake my head, turning to walk back over.  I stand next to the
dresser and watch him in profile.  "I've been...gone..."  I try to
tell him about the prison...the rapes...how much I missed him, even
though he was supposed to be nothing to me, just a thing in the way. 
He was never that to me.  But I can't tell him.  He needs to tell me,
now.  Mulder needs something from me, and that's sacred.

He turns tear-filled eyes to me.  "My mother..."  His voice cracks. 
It dies.  "She killed herself."

I try to go to him...my one arm open, but he stops me with a violent
shake to his head.  He whispers, "Don't."

I keep my short distance and wait.

He buries his face in his hands.  I watch him breathe it down.  We're
there in the dark together, the wind rousing gooseflesh on my neck
where he kissed me.  It's a long while before he moves and goes to sit
on the foot of his bed.  He looks at nothing.

"I, uh...  I slept with Scully," he tells me, almost...apologetically.
 There's  a sad smirk on his face as he doesn't look at me.  "About
six weeks ago.  Did you know that?"

I swallow around the thing that's sitting in my throat now.  Why is he
telling me this?  When he won't let me have him?  When he doesn't want
me?  Is it because of her?  I feel angry tears welling and curse them
down to no avail.

"Alex?"  He's finally looking at me.  "Did you?"

I shake my head and drop my eyes.  Six weeks ago I was taking it hard
until I was bloody from it.  I was the bright spot in somebody's hell.
 I was a hole.

Mulder looks away again and chuffs a small laugh, unaware of my
thoughts...my memories.

"We're not lovers if that's what you're thinking," he informs me. 
Then softer,  "I don't know what we are."

I'm starting to get the picture.  His sister dead...his crusade
changed or over, maybe even he doesn't know...his mother dead, by her
own hand at that, then a brief last-ditch affair with his partner that
sounds like it could've gone better...

Who am I, Alex?

And he's asking...me.

"She, uh..."  He looks at the bed.  "She just...left."  He swallows
thickly.  "I think we both realized early on that it wasn't...that we
weren't..."  He looks sheepishly up at me.  "That we're not suited,"
he finishes with a wry look into my eyes.  He, once again, drops his
gaze.  "But what the hell, you know?  We were supposed to.  Right?" 
He shrugs.  "Anyway.  I'm not even sure if we're friends anymore."

He takes a long, deep breath.

"And now...you're here."  He looks up at me again.  "And I've wanted
you for so  long..."

I gasp, my eyes stinging suddenly.  It hurts to hold the eye contact
with him.   There's so much between us.  Always has been.  But I
thought it had all been me.

"Mulder..."  I hear myself whisper.

He stands up...faces me...reaches his hand out and palms my cheek. 
"Don't you ever just wanna...give in?"  His eyes sparkle with tears. 
He whispers, "Because I do...Alex,"  His thumb strokes tenderly across
my cheek.  "I really do."

My lashes flutter as he nears.  His mouth is so close I feel his every
breath on my lips.  I can scarcely breathe.

"Scares me..."  he says, almost not even a whisper.  "Because...I know
what you  can do...  To me."

I lift my hand...feel his hair under my fingers.  I shudder.  His
forehead comes to rest on mine.

"Alex..."  His hand moves slowly...a brave caress...back around to cup
the nape  of my neck.

I know what he means.  I've always known.  There's nothing like who he
is.  Nothing like what he makes me feel.

"You're gonna...kill me..."  I tell him, completely breathless,
completely hard, completely his to kill or fuck or leave.

"Some people call it love, Alex."

"Unnn!"

And his lips slant over mine, his hand tightening up into my hair, and
his tongue pushes my mouth open to receive it.

OhgodohgodohgodohGOD...

He kisses me deeply and slowly...wet caresses of his tongue into and
out of my mouth.  He pulls me close gently, fitting our bodies
together.  He palms the back of my head and I whimper for him.

Love...  Can we?  After so much?  Have we always?

I'm utterly stunned at how long he kisses me.  Just kisses me. 
Nothing else.  And I could come this way...pressed in tight to his
long, lean body with his sweet, soft tongue making love in my mouth.

When I think I might pass out from the pleasure of it, he pulls away a
scant inch and breathes against my swollen lips, "Can I undress you?"

I can only moan in response.  Can he undress me.  That he would ask...
Nobody's asked in so long.

I take a deep breath, unprepared for the stab of panic his words
cause.

I hesitate and then nod.

"We...don't have to..." He ends on a whispered word:  "Fuck..."

My voice is a low growl.  "I've wanted you to fuck me since that night
you kissed me, Mulder."  I don't want them taking this away from me!

He smiles, and it's gentle and sweet.  He whispers his confession. 
"Me, too."   His arms come around me and hold on tight, hands stroking
up and down my back.   It's so soothing and arousing both at once. 
"But I think...we need to go...slow.  For a lot of reasons," he says.

I look into his face, the openness there.  The emotion.

I nod jerkily, one tear falling down my face.

"I'd...like to undress you," he murmurs.

I nod again, swallowing my fear.

He nods back and brings his hands around in front, unbuttoning my
shirt and pulling it open, his breath ragged and scared.  He pushes it
off my arms and his eyes roam over what he bared, flaring a little as
they rake my skin.

I can hardly stand his attention.  When I'd allowed myself to imagine
this moment...going to bed with Mulder...well, it hadn't often even
involved a bed.   I fantasized some quick head in an alley or a brutal
reaming facing a wall.  Never this...  I never dreamt he'd look at
me.

He sheds my jacket off his shoulders now, bringing it to his nose for
a moment and inhaling before throwing it to the side with a small
smirk.  Then he takes his T-shirt off and reaches for me, gathering me
into his arms and pressing our  naked flesh together.

I take deep breaths, letting my mouth drop to the place where his neck
curves to meet his shoulder.  His chest against mine...soft and hard. 
My nipples tighten and I rub against him wantonly, running my hand up
and down his strong back.

He rubs back, panting against the side of my neck.  "God, Alex..." he
says and I shiver against him.  He's just breathing on me, but it's
more erotic than a decisive touch.  Want transmutes to need and I grab
at him, yanking him in, feeling his rigid cock jabbing at mine through
the rest of our clothes.

"Want you..." he snarls, a little of the gentleness leaking out of him
as his arousal ratchets up.  I understand.  I'm high on it, too.  I've
never wanted anyone this way.

He grabs my jeans and rips them open, pushing them down my thighs,
then releases me to work on his own.

I bend to quickly take off my boots and socks, then I strip my jeans
and underwear down my legs. When I'm done, I stand to see him naked as
well and watching me.  His cock is dark with blood and standing up to
his belly.  I try to swallow back my fear.  He's not them.  He won't
hurt me.  He won't do that to me.

"I want you to...lie down," he murmurs, shakily.  Is he scared?  I
want to remind him that he used to hit me.  "I'd like to do
this...lying down," he adds.  Maybe he thought we were the
against-a-wall type, too, up til now.

I take a breath.  "Mulder...I've been tested.  I want you to know..."

He comes at me, stroking my cheek, eyes on my mouth.  "It's okay," he
says.  His hands are grabbing at me, having me, his mouth already
seeking my skin, my throat, his body courting mine to bed.

"Mulder...  I'm negative.  It's..."

"I don't care," he growls.

I put my hand on his chest and shove.  He staggers backward.  "*I*
care!" I grit out.  "Mulder..."  My eyes are welling up.  "I care, you
fuck!"

He swallows, like he's coming out of a trance.  He nods.  He finds my
eyes.

"Is this just...Russian roulette for you?" I ask incredulously.  "Spin
the chamber and see if what you get kills you?"  My erection is
deflating fast and my heart is breaking.  "If I kill you, can you hate
me again?...Mulder?"

"No..."

"What?"

Louder, "No.  Alex, I...  I didn't mean that."  He steps in a little
and I inhale sharply.  "I want this..."  He stops.  Drops his eyes. 
His whisper is barely audible.  "I just want it too bad for it to be
taken away."

I blink, hearing the frightened longing in his voice.  He's a
different man.  I  had prison.  He had everyone ripped from
him...slowly, and one by one.  He and I...we're changed.

I reach for him, drained of anger.  "C'mere."

His eyes travel to mine, and he hesitates just a moment before taking
a step.  I match it.  And then we're walking into each other's arms.

"I trust you," he whispers in my hair.

I know what that is for him.  And I don't care if he only means that
he trusts his dick won't fall off if we do it.  It's an enormous thing
to have from him. It's like marriage.

He comes back to my mouth...kisses my lips, lingering.   He only
speaks in whispers now.  "I want you in my bed."

My breath catches, but as his hands stroke down my face, I honor his
wish, exiting his embrace and crawling up onto the mattress, lying on
my stomach for him.

"I meant...on your back," he tells me.  "But...  Jesus, you're
beautiful."

I take a breath, almost unable to hear something like that from him. 
I turn over a little awkwardly, having left the prosthetic on.  I pray
that he doesn't  ask me to take it off.

He nods to it and I hold my breath.  "Does it give you pain?" he asks,
crawling  up onto the bed.

"N-No..." I pant.

"Good," he whispers.  He reaches...stops.  His hands rest on my upper
thighs.  He looks into my eyes, like he's asking or giving a warning
and he's scared.  Then he looks back down and spreads my legs.  I open
for him, breathing deeply.  He moves between my thighs and then lowers
himself between them, face to face, his cock to mine.

"Ohhh!" I cry out softly, tempering my reaction to him, the sensation
rocketing  through me as we touch.

"Unnnngod," he groans, resting his forehead on mine again.  His weight
is on his forearms, and I find myself entranced with how our bellies
touch as we both  breathe deeply.

"This okay?" he breathes.

My hand finds the back of his head as I swallow and nod.

He slowly starts to move on top of me.

Then all I can feel is my cock.

I gasp.  He's just...rubbing his cock on mine, and it's not like I
haven't felt  a stiff cock before, but...  "Unn, Mulder!"  And that's
it.  It's him.  It's us.

"Unnn..." he whines, rocking his slender body on mine.  "L-love it
when you...say my name...Alex."

He shifts from one elbow to the other, stilling momentarily.  Then he
moves, rearing his hips back just a little, and kisses the tip of the
flared head of his cock to mine.  I'm not sure if he's teasing himself
or me...denying us the full-body contact we're craving. "Ohhhyeah," he
breathes, rubbing the tip of himself along my whole, yearning length
now.  It's a hellish heaven he's trapped me in.  I open my mouth but
no sound comes out.

And then he lowers his full weight with a soft, surrendering groan,
mouth next to mine as he begins to rock in earnest.

"Feels...so good," he whines.  "Are you...okay?"

I let my hand wander down to his ass, spreading my thighs and
squeezing in answer as I growl and turn my face to his, find his lips,
and kiss him hard.

I shove my tongue into his mouth on his moan and start to thrust my
hips up to meet his easy movements.  I grip his tight, squeezing ass
in my hand and dig my  heels into the bed, bucking up into him and
grunting into his mouth.  "Mm, mm, mm..."

In return, he eats my mouth, groaning his pleasure into me as he
increases the pace, bracing himself up on bent knees a little for
leverage and driving down into me faster and harder.

"Unn!  Alex!  Unn!  God!" he cries against my pant-open lips.

My whole body stiffens as I feel my orgasm hit.  My knees tighten
against his undulating hips as I ride it, my cock shooting between our
bodies.  I squeeze my eyes shut tight and cry as I come.

"Aleh...Unnn... Say my...name," Mulder pants.

"UnnnnnMuller..."  I manage to sigh out on the last of my climax, and
then I watch his mouth drop open above me as he gasps and his cock
releases on mine.  His hips thrust once, and then again, and again as
he empties himself, gasping.

"Ah...Ah...Ohgod..."

And then he falls on me in a boneless heap, petting my hair lazily and
not moving otherwise.  His breath falls fast and moist on my neck.  I
turn my head and nuzzle his sweaty hair.  I'm lying naked with Fox
Mulder.  We made love.  I  wrap my legs around him, holding him close,
feeling our combined cum squish between our bodies.  I never want to
fucking bathe.

"You feel so good," he groans.

I moan a little in answer.  He feels like being home.  "Mulder..."  I
eek out past my satiation.

He grunts, pleased with his name from my lips.  I try something else.

"Fox..."

He stills.  Then he lifts his head and looks down into my eyes.  He
nods slowly.  "Okay," he murmurs tenderly.  Then he closes his eyes
and touches his lips to mine.  "Only you."  He blinks his eyes back
open to peer down at me in slight apprehension.  Love is one thing. 
His first name is another.  I'm stunned that he's going to allow it. 
That his feelings for me extend that far.

I smile.  But it hides a fear I'd rather not voice.

"Alex?" he asks.  "Do you want me to move off of you?"

"Mmmmnnnnooooo," I growl, holding him tighter and moving my hips a
little.

"Then what is it?"

I stroke my hand over his hair, his temple...  "Do you think we're
crazy?" I ask.

"You and me?"

I nod.

"For finally succumbing to temptation?"

I drop my eyes.

"Are you wondering if I used the word love just to get you in the
sack, Alex?"   His voice is soft, a compassion I'd never have expected
from him.

"I'm wondering...what happens next," I tell him.

He smiles.  He strokes my hair now, too...rubs a finger lightly over
my lips.  "Well, I thought we'd shower.  Maybe go again," he states
shyly.

I smirk back at him.  We both know it's only to cover for how fucking
serious this all is.  I sober.  "Mulder, what are we doing?"

"What do you want to be doing?" he counters.

"Jesus, Mulder, don't ask me that," I say heatedly.  If his body
didn't feel so  fucking good, I'd shove him off.  As it is, I stay
underneath him, wanting him to convince me...just to say something
magical to make all this possible...make  it all okay.

"You want me to tell you without you giving anything?"  He's frowning
now and I'm so afraid he's going to get up, get dressed and demand I
get out of his apartment.

"Mulder..."  I sigh.  At his tilted head, I start again.  "Fox...  I
want..."  I swallow.  My voice drops into a hush.  "I don't want to
leave."

His answer is just as soft.  "I don't want you to leave."

Our eyes meet, fear to fear.

"Shower with me," he requests.  Simple enough.  He rises up, pulling
me up after him.  He trails his hand down my right arm and finds my
hand, gripping it  lightly.  "Please?"

I hesitate.

"And then stay," he breathes, knowing I'll allow him nothing right
now.  There's no room for obfuscation. "Stay and sleep with me," he
shivers out.  "Let me touch you again...fuck me if you want...watch my
TV, but just...stay."   He grabs my hair tightly.  "Stay, Alex," he
grits out between clenched teeth.  He kisses me hard.  "Stay with me."
 Hard...biting my lips and twisting them.

(Continued in part 2)

Part 2
See part 0 for story information.


I nod and kiss him back.  "Stay," I whisper between the attacks of his
mouth.  "Wanna...stay..."

"*Will* stay," he grits.

"Will...stay..." I answer obediently.  We can do this.  We have to.  I
have no choice.

He stands and guides me up.  He pulls me in, our bodies sticky.

"Too long..." he sighs.

"Too long," I agree in barely a breath.  I'm getting hard again so
fast.

He smiles against my skin, feeling it.  "C'mon," he murmurs, taking my
hand again.

I stop him, pulling gently.  I take a small step away from him,
noticing how this makes him frown, but I smile at him a little, scared
to death, as I start to unstrap the prosthesis.

He watches me take it off, lowering it to the bedside table and then
turning back to him with lowered eyes.  He reaches out and takes my
chin in his hand.  I look up into his face.  His hand slides down to
my shoulder, and then he pulls me into him, giving me a searing kiss,
his arms wrapping around me and clutching at me.  I moan into his
mouth.

When he releases me, there are tear tracks down his face.  He smiles
slightly.   "Hold on."

He goes over to his jeans that are half inside out across the room. 
He picks them up, digs in the pocket and finds his cigarettes.  Then
he crushes the pack  and tosses them in the trash.  He smirks back at
me.

"Happy?" he asks.  "These actually saved my life, you know."  He looks
down.  "I'll tell you about it sometime."

I frown at him as he meets my eyes once more and he smiles
ironically.

"You get to nurse me through the withdrawal," he tells me.

I return his lopsided grin.  He turns and closes the window, finally,
and it feels like we're really alone together.  No more ghosts for
now.

"Now come get in the shower with me," he demands.

I smile and follow him, linking our fingers for the short journey.

End

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### The End ###