AW VII: Six or Seven Steps Behind You by Te 8/98 Disclaimers: Would Chris Carter treat them so well? I think not. Spoilers: Not a one. Summary: Alex drops by for a visit. Ratings Note: NC-17 for language and M/K relations. Author's Note: Come home, Alicia! Come home! Umm.... This could (and probably should) be considered a sequel to "Soft Decline" and "If You Knew My Infinite Charms." Acknowledgments: To my Sister Blue... because she reminds me of the important things even *without* heavy weaponry. Also, to the beauteous Alicia, for Beta Brutality. All remaining mistakes are my own. Feedback: PLEASE. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AW VII: Six or Seven Steps Behind You by Te Daddy793@aol.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder returned to consciousness at the sound of a safety snicking off rather too close to his left ear. He sucked in a breath and was pleasantly assaulted by the scent of his own hand lotion from the wrist-rest... and leather and machine oil. Alex, then. Other men fell asleep or cuddled after sex. Alex cleaned his gun. Most of the time, it was cute. "Was it something I said?" "I could've killed you where you sat. Sprawled. Whatever the hell you're doing." "You could've killed me in bed, too...." "Yes, but you wouldn't be torturing your spine." Mulder blinked once, slowly. Marveled, again, at how amazingly comfortable the wrist-rest was. Took it in. "You're holding a gun to my head because my sleeping habits are poor." "It saddens me when you don't take care of yourself." Mulder chuckled, a little more raspily than he expected. Apparently, he'd been asleep for quite some time. It was less than a comforting thought, but still... "I'm touched, Alex." //Dammit--// "Don't say it--" Alex snorted from behind him and Mulder could feel the slight shift in the air that indicated the omnipresent weapon being re-holstered. Mulder smiled to himself, removed his own throwaway from its ankle holster, and spun. Bleary-eyed, dizzy, and still half-asleep, Mulder managed to have the gun aimed more or less accurately at the fine column of Alex's throat. He wondered if he should start taking massive doses of Benadryl before going out on cases. Alex was... beaming at him. He looked downright misty-eyed, not to put too fine a point on it. "*What*, Alex?" "That has to be the sneakiest thing you've ever pulled, Mulder..." "Well, yes, but--" He was cut off by a move that left his gun arm twisted painfully behind his back, and a kiss that claimed his mouth with the brutality of affection. After a time, Alex adjusted their relative positions to improve his access to Mulder's mouth, loosening his grip on the arm to not-quite pain. His tongue was a muscular assault. Mulder was allowed back to himself, back to a field of vision made up entirely of an Alex flushed with a disturbingly arousing mixture of lust and childlike glee. A twelve-year-old with his very first hard-on. //Don't go there.// Another several moments to stare into eyes gradually becoming blackly unreadable by the encroaching darkness, //But I'll know...// and Mulder darted forward just far enough to swipe his tongue along the younger man's mouth. Whispered in the meaningless space between kiss and kissed: "Can I have my arm back?" And there was a thumb rubbing circles into his wrist and soft lips brushing and pressing and a nagging indecision at the back of his mind: Should he pull Alex to the floor? Should he stand into his embrace? It became moot when the just-a-little-too-muscular arm released his own and pulled him up and close, pulled him in to lean muscle and demanding heat and the only thing he could really do, at that point, was swivel shamelessly into the offered lust. A groan against his throat and Mulder slid his arms around the younger man's back, traced vertebrae too close to the surface... //If he stays for breakfast, I'm going to hold a gun to his temple through an entire plate of waffles. And then I'm going to blow him. //If he doesn't stay for breakfast, I will hunt him down with a bag full of White Castle burgers, pistol whip him, watch him eat, and then blow him.// ... and did his best to get closer still. "Alex..." Tickling growl at his collarbone and Mulder blessed the impulse that had made him strip to the waist before settling at the computer. "What's on the agenda for tonight, Mulder?" "Same thing we don't do nearly enough nights, Alex." And then he was being spun around and away and he was supporting himself on shaking arms. A fumble, if a fast one, at his waist and his suit pants were puddled around his ankles. Alex cupped him once, possessively, through the much-too-tight boxer briefs, before ripping them off as efficiently as possible. Bare and ready, and cool, canned air brushed him to gooseflesh and want. No warning save for a muffled thump behind him and Alex was gripping his ass hard enough to bruise and oh jesus that couldn't possibly be easy with one hand so Mulder decided to help and he was bound to be on his own knees soon enough with that whip, that welcome punishment of tongue that made his knees tremble and his hips buck and his mind reel through a thousand possible ways to make Alex feel this absurdly powerless... And then he stopped. //Definitely pistol-whip him.// But there was really no time to protest as that tongue seemed to press hard enough into his spine to bruise as Alex made his way up and up... relentless. Mulder found himself arching into the -- somehow, even more decadent than usual -- touch. "I'm going to fuck you, right here, right now." "I love it when you're concise." An acknowledgment of his coherency in a vicious bite just behind his ear and then Mulder was bucking away, reflexively, from the cool of the slick. "Sorry, next time I'll keep it in my jeans..." And Mulder was quite sure that Alex was still talking but the sound had smoothed and faded to a breathy husk against his ear and ratcheting pleasure from clever fingers. No real point to this, he'd been ready from the second he'd awakened to find Alex gone the last time but it felt good and the sounds he was making were good and, in these moments, he *was* good. "... cat in heat... Jesus, Mulder... spread yourself for me..." He thanked his brain for letting certain important Alex comments seep through the haze, stood just long enough to feel the younger man fit himself there, right there before bracing himself for the thrust and Alex was sliding that slick hand around him and up his torso to grab a shoulder and pull down and back and pinioned, skewered with a lover's need and there was no better way to be on a lonely Tuesday night just this side of pointless ripped, thankfully, into the realm of obsession and something a great deal like-- "I love you, Alex--" "Don't... say that..." And Mulder laughed then, "Too late." a sensation sending rolling waves of precious humor straight down to his cock and yeah he might as well let his hand follow them and pull and pull and when Alex bit off whatever declarations he might have made into Mulder's shoulder.... Well, that was only to be expected. ~~~~~~ End. ~~~~~~