lavenderandlye.txtLavender And Lye 
by Pares and Te 
10/98 
Disclaimers: Not ours, and it makes us very sad indeed. 
Spoilers: Little ones for Sleepless, Fire, and Tunguska. 
This takes place somewhere in the midst of all that missing 
time between airport and gulag. 
Summary: Mulder and Alex play a game. 
Ratings Note: NC-17 for poor language and smut. 
Authors' Note: Alicia sent Pares a present, and her whole 
existence has been a present for Te... so we worked our 
fingers to the bone to handcraft a gift especially for her. 
Does anyone else want to send us presents? <g> With a deep 
salaam to Jane Mortimer, for giving the world the ultimate 
gulag story. One more thing -- the * marks denote POV 
shifts from Mulder to Krycek. 
Acknowledgments: To Di, for the title, and to Spike and 
Justin for fine beta. To Sister Blue just because. 
Feedback: Yes, yes, yes. You don't wanna see us cry. 
kormantic@yahoo.com and thete1@earthlink.net. 
* 
Mulder knew when he was getting screwed. 
One-fifty American was bullshit for one night in a bedstead 
above a tea house in the township of Lassic. 
One room, one bed. At least it had a claw-foot tub and hot 
water. 
There was a sink and toilet in a small, curtained alcove in 
the corner of the room. However, for no reason Mulder 
could fathom, the bathtub was in the middle of the bedroom. 
That fact didn't seem to faze Krycek in the least. He'd 
drawn a bath, stripped wordlessly and lowered himself into 
the steaming water with a hissing sigh. 
Mulder, sitting on the creaky twin bed, watched the flush 
of heat creep up Krycek's spine; even his shoulders were 
reddened, the cool air making the skin tighten, marble, 
even in a steaming tub. 
"Jesus, Krycek! You trying to scald yourself?" 
* 
"It may surprise you to know that most balconies don't have 
hot and cold running water." 
"This is where I should be throwing in some platitude about 
how a rat like you will never be clean, isn't it?" 
Alex snorted with surprise, turned awkwardly to face the 
other man. He caught Mulder's expression just as the older 
man wiped a wince from his face. 
//Well, if I'd known all it would take was a little 
gratuitous nudity...// 
"You're asking me? You *must* be tired. Don't think I'm 
gonna let you have the bed, though." 
"Krycek, the good guys *always* get the bed. You are, at 
best, the sidekick on this trip." 
"Sidekick, hunh?" 
Alex turned away, reached for the small, greyish hand towel 
with a moue of distaste. 
"Yeah, Tonto. Sidekick." 
He could hear Mulder settling on the creaky mattress. 
Staking a surreptitious claim. Alex could appreciate a 
good use of stealth, but hell... 
He wrung the cloth out, pleasantly surprised to see the 
water run out clean, and ran it over his chest, not 
bothering to stifle his pleased sigh at the feel of days of 
grime and sweat being scrubbed away. Alex could feel 
Mulder's eyes on the back of his neck, a solid weight, a 
heat. Glass marbles in the sun. 
"You know, Mulder..." 
A broken yawn. "What is it?" 
"There are some interesting theories about superheroes and 
their sidekicks." 
* 
Mulder chose to ignore that. 
"I hope you like your mattress extra firm, Al." Mulder 
prodded at the thin fold of blankets on the hardwood floor 
with the toe of his boot. "And I sure hope you don't have 
any allergies." Eyeing his dusty tracks on the hardwood, 
Mulder pried off his boots and let them fall to the floor. 
"You don't snore do you?" 
Krycek didn't reply, taking a stronger interest in soaping 
one broad shoulder with the foaming washcloth. 
A faint scent of -- lavender? reached Mulder's nose. 
"What the hell kind of soap *is* that? You're gonna smell 
like my grandmother." 
* 
"You've spent a lot of time sniffing your grandmother?" 
"Your mind is a marvel of perversion, Krycek. I'd like to 
cut it right out of your head and give it to Scully to play 
with." 
Alex couldn't quite hold back a shudder at that thought. 
The image of Mulder smirking behind his back was an 
irritating one. 
"In case you haven't noticed, the toiletry selection here 
is not *quite* up to that of the Hilton." 
A noncommittal snort from the bed, and Alex chose to 
believe that meant he'd won the point, however narrowly. 
//It's not fair to bring up Scully.// 
He ducked himself briefly to rinse, came up spluttering 
with a moderately unpleasant burn in his nose. The soap 
might *smell* like Grandma, but it burned like lye. 
He wouldn't share that fact with Mulder. 
He *would* share... 
//Not like I have much of a choice.// 
... the sight of himself petting his bristly hair into 
order, knowing the shift and roll of muscle -- gilded by 
the one dim, buzzing overhead light -- would shrug its way 
into Mulder's subconscious. 
Life in the militia had been kind, fratboy rituals of 
buzzcuts and binge drinking aside. Lots of food, central 
heating... Alex had lived in luxury, true, but far more of 
his life had been spent in meaner settings. 
He could've wished for better bread, though. 
Mulder's breathing was starting to slow behind him, and 
that couldn't be allowed. Alex had every intention of 
getting that bed. 
//Dreams get smaller...// 
"I have a proposal for you, Agent Mulder." 
* 
"A proposal? If it's a marriage you have in mind, I'll 
have to decline. My mother insists on a nice Jewish girl." 
His sarcasm was bored, automatic. Mulder hoped it hid his 
increasing awareness of the fact that the man he was 
speaking to was completely naked and within arms' reach. 
He'd leaned back against the solitary pillow, stretched 
out. Still, his eyes rested on the back of Krycek's neck. 
Krycek splashed lightly, wringing out the washcloth and 
then dipping it again, clear streams of water running down 
his back and shoulders. 
"You're getting water everywhere, Mr. Bubble. Be sure you 
wipe it up when you're done with," a yawn, "your bath." 
"Mulder, don't you even want to hear me out?" No answer. 
"And I'm not the only one who could use a bath, buddy. You 
were rank in Vladivostok. You stink now." 
Snuggling into the rather musty pillow, Mulder turned his 
back to his companion and tucked his knees up. 
Irritation edged his voice. 
"Sorry my hygiene isn't all you'd hoped for. And as for 
wanting to hear you out, no, I don't actually. I *want* to 
get some sleep." 
"So do I, and I'm gonna sleep like shit on the floor." 
"Poor baby. Just remember who has the gun. And the 
handcuffs." 
"Come on, Mulder. How about we flip a coin for it?" 
Mulder favored him with a short, dismissive laugh. 
* 
Alex added a pout to his posture, a bit of a whine to his 
voice. "Mulderrrrr..." 
"Christ that's annoying. How the hell did your parents 
keep from strangling you in the crib?" 
Alex smirked to himself. "I'm told it was a near thing." 
Alex briefly considered trying to splash Mulder, but 
decided it was a bad idea. "You know..." 
"What?" 
Nearly a yell. Better and better. 
"When I can't sleep well I tend to do... irritating 
things." 
"The human waking and sleeping states aren't nearly as 
different as popular culture would have you believe." 
"Yes, professor, I'm aware of that. Same case, remember?" 
Alex could almost *feel* the wince, and wondered if he 
should be regretful. He gave Mulder another few minutes to 
relax again. 
"But, Mulder..." 
"WHAT?" 
//Must. Not. Giggle.// 
Alex ran the cloth over his toes in a fashion not-quite- 
leisurely enough to get him punched. "If I can't sleep 
well I kick a lot and thrash..." 
"Good thing we're not sharing a bed, then. I'd have to 
shoot you if you kicked me." 
"I also tend to talk in my restless slumber." 
"I'll get the tape recorder." 
"I also... snore." 
* 
Mulder debated throwing the pillow at the man in the tub, 
but that would only get it soggy, and a soggy pillow 
certainly wasn't going to improve his mood. 
"Krycek, I swear to God, I'll handcuff you to the doorknob 
and make you sleep in the hallway like a fucking *dog* if 
you don't shut the hell *up*." 
The man in the tub turned his upper body to face him, 
sloshing water on the already warping floorboards. 
"The way I see it, Mulder, I'm doing you a favor by--" 
"And I'm doing *you* a favor by not putting a bullet in 
your head like you deserve." 
A long, cold silence. 
Mulder could practically hear the bathwater chilling. 
At least it was quiet. 
"You want answers, Mulder? You want to know "the Truth," 
is that it?" 
Mulder didn't trust himself to do more than stare. 
"Do you want me to tell you I killed your father?" 
Mulder would have thrown a lamp had one been handy. 
Instead, he sat up and flung an answer at the man still 
soaking in the no doubt tepid tub. 
"*Yes.*" 
"I want the bed, Mulder. You want answers. Do you want to 
hear that proposal now?" 
* 
Alex let the silence hang. If they were going to get 
anywhere at all it would have to be Mulder's choice. Even 
if he couldn't quite remember why he'd wanted this beyond 
the constant low-grade urge to fuck with the older man's 
head. 
The water was getting colder. Good bread or not, Russia 
tended to lose a lot of charm when you could watch the soap 
congealing. 
Alex took a chance, and caught Mulder's eyes. Glittering 
some odd shade of grey-blue in the dim light, focused 
wholly on him. He felt his stomach dip alarmingly, felt his 
cock twitch even in the increasingly disagreeable water. 
//Trouble. 
//So what else is new?// 
Mulder's voice, when it came, was a flat, dangerous purr. 
"Yeah. I want to hear it, Krycek." 
For a moment he was at a loss as to just how to phrase his 
response. Glib? Innocent? 
Alex saw the way Mulder's gun hand was twitching toward 
his holster, and decided serious was the most prudent way 
to play it. 
"Truth or Dare, Mulder. You'll win either way. Chances 
are good I'll tell you *something* you want to know. And 
if I win, I get the bed." 
As an afterthought, he added, "And you take a bath." He 
gave Mulder a sour, pointed look. 
* 
The air was humid, almost clammy with evaporated bath 
water. Mulder cocked his head at Krycek, half laughed. 
"I've hit you, threatened you with a gun. You're going to 
tell me that for a decent night's sleep, you'll tell me 
everything you've previously withheld? And I'm supposed to 
believe that?" 
Krycek gave him an odd look, strangely naive. 
"Yes, you're supposed to believe it. At this point, your 
life expectancy is even shorter than mine. You probably 
won't live long enough to do anything with any information 
you might gain from me." 
"You're a true philanthropist, aren't you, Krycek?" Mulder 
shook his head in disgust. 
"I'll tell you what, Al, I'll take a bath and think about 
it. 
Out of the tub." 
He stood up and slid his gun and the handcuffs off the 
little bureau. 
Mulder handed the younger man a threadbare towel that had 
once been white. 
"Myself, I prefer a little privacy with my bath, so I'm 
going to have to ask you to stand outside." 
Krycek stood, and took a moment longer than was necessary 
to wrap the towel around his waist, first drying his hair 
and wiping down his glistening arms and chest. 
Fuck. 
Krycek was-- *golden* with water and reflected light. 
Mulder found himself following the streaming water 
downwards, as it glazed Krycek's skin and skated down his 
smooth chest, the heavy muscle of his belly, glistened in 
the narrow channel of dark hair beneath his navel and 
dripped from the end of Krycek's thick cock. Swallowing, 
Mulder closed his eyes. 
He climbed from the tub, and Mulder closed one cuff around 
the other man's thick wrist. Even tepid, the bathwater had 
been warmer than the air. Faint wisps of steam curled from 
the man's fresh, lavender scented, petal soft skin. 
Mulder led him to the door and opened it, locking the cuffs 
and leaving Krycek to shiver in the hallway with a cheery 
wave. 
* 
"You fucking *bastard*." Alex ground the words out through 
his teeth, unwilling to let Mulder know just how pissed he 
was. He had every intention of making Mulder pay for this 
in the game. Or maybe just find a way to take it out in 
trade. This was, after all, *his* turf. 
Perhaps it was time to remind Mulder of that fact. No, no 
'perhaps' about it. It was well past time. For now, 
though... 
He waited until he'd heard Mulder drain and refill the tub, 
then another few moments until he was just about sure the 
older man would be hovering over the steaming water. "Oh, 
Mulder..." His voice was a paragon of good-natured 
amusement. 
"Yes?" 
"Are you actively trying to give me a cold?" 
"What the hell are you talking about now? I'm slow, 
Krycek. I'm still turning over your oh-so-generous 
proposal." 
"Well, I was just thinking of that "urge to nurture" thing. 
You remember that case... the woman we were chasing down 
for tax fraud who had been kidnapping and stuffing other 
people's children?" 
Silence. Alex wondered if Mulder was picturing *him* 
stuffed and mounted. 
//Tsk. They'd never get the eyes right.// 
"I'm wondering if this whole "hang Alex out the window, 
toss Alex into a draughty hallway naked" thing is part of 
an unconscious desire to get me--" 
"I've long since acknowledged and accepted my desire to 
hurt you." 
"To get me sick enough so that you'll *have* to take care 
of me. Pamper me." Alex backed away from the door as much 
as possible, and raised his voice. "Or maybe you just want 
to cuddle up with me, read me stories, feed me..." 
There was an intriguing quiet coming from the tea room 
downstairs. A lessening of drunken boister. The slosh of 
water and angry-sounding thumps from inside the door were 
*far* more intriguing, though. 
Mulder yanked the door open hard enough to send Krycek 
stumbling and tumbling back into the room. As he fell he 
*just* missed ripping away the towel from Mulder's waist, 
though he did manage to get another fascinating inch of 
lean hip. 
"What the *hell* are you trying to do?" 
"Hey, if you're going to lock me outside the least you 
could do is let me have my pants. Even *Walter* let me 
have my pants." 
//Most of the night...// 
Mulder only stared at him, and turned back to his bath, gun 
firmly in hand. 
"No pants?" 
"I. Am. Going. To. Take. A. Bath. You, Tonto, are going to 
sit there and shut the fuck up." 
"You're going to take a bath with the door open?" 
Alex could see Mulder's shoulders tensing up, but he'd 
really only meant to point out the potential awkwardness of 
having a half-naked man cuffed to an open door while 
another man was bathing a few feet away. 
Russia wasn't all *that* chaotic after the "fall" of 
Communism. 
Mulder heaved a sigh, and went back to his own pants to 
rummage for the key. He then came back to Krycek and 
leveled his gun to his forehead. Alex's entire field of 
vision was made up of tiny towel and Mulder legs. 
He began to experience some happy memories. 
"Be. Good." 
"Yessir." 
* 
Mulder pulled the handcuff chain taut and closed the door 
on it. The other man would have less room to move, but 
hell, *he* didn't tell him to bitch about the hallway 
arrangement. "And keep your face to the door." 
Krycek nodded. 
Mulder put his gun on the last of the towels, dropped the 
scrap of cotton that barely reached around his hips and 
clambered back into the tub. 
[All I need now is to slip and knock myself out cold. I'd 
drown in my own bathwater while Krycek stood by and 
snickered. Bastard.] 
He resettled in the warm water, and found the bar of soap. 
It did, in fact, smell like his Grandmother Dinah. 
But Jesus! It's *burned*... nice of good ol' Krycek to 
mention that. He'd brought his usual bundle of toiletries 
with him in his travel bag. Had Krycek not been sharing 
the room, he'd have had time to use actual shampoo... 
Cursing, Mulder lathered his hair with the harsh soap. 
[I'm going to smell like fucking Truman Capote.] 
Ducking under the now grayish water, Mulder rinsed his hair 
and reached again for the soap. He'd wanted the washcloth, 
but it made him wrinkle his nose to think of using someone 
else's bathing accessory... best not to think about stray 
hairs just now... 
The soap was smooth and slick, and it glided along his skin 
as he rubbed it into a filmy foam on his chest and 
shoulders. He couldn't bring himself to turn his head and 
see if Krycek was watching him; he didn't want to know. 
Not really. 
His skin prickled, tightened across his chest, the cooling 
air making his nipples harden painfully. Not since middle 
school gym showers had he felt so... exposed. 
Before Krycek had started mewling in the hall, Mulder had 
been planning on a quick jerk off session, courtesy of the 
soap. Harsh or not, after the initial sting, it was 
actually kind of... invigorating. 
Perhaps invigorating wasn't the word, but Mulder's budding 
hard on was going to be a problem with Krycek in the room. 
Probably sensing weakness, Krycek chose that moment to 
speak. 
"Have you decided to take me up on my offer, Mulder?" 
Mulder ground his teeth together. 
"Look, asshole, if we play this game at all, I'm certainly 
not going to start it naked. Shut the fuck up and I'll 
give you my answer when I'm done here." 
He took a deep breath and surreptitiously wrapped his hand 
around his stiffening cock. Biting his lip, he quickly 
weighed the pros and cons. 
[There'll be splashing. I'll moan. I always moan. God 
*damn* it!] 
Mulder got to his feet, and climbed out of the tub, 
dripping liberally on Krycek's scattered clothing. 
"Fine. You wanna play games, Krycek? Then we'll fucking 
play a game." Mulder rubbed himself dry so feast his skin 
almost burned. "I'll go first," he said, yanking on a 
clean tee shirt and a pair of sweats. 
He closed a hand on Krycek's shoulder and spun him 
around. 
"Truth or dare, cocksucker?" 
* 
//Likes it rough, hunh?// 
Mulder was strung tight, obvious even through the loose 
clothing. Lean, taut muscle and the silent hum of 
carefully banked rage. For a moment, Alex wondered if a 
carefully placed knife-point -- just a brush of the tip -- 
would cause anything to snap irrevocably. The image made 
him happy, and Alex flashed what he honestly believed was 
his most annoying grin. He was wrong -- he really did have 
quite a few -- but this was clearly one of his more 
affecting expressions. "Dare." 
"Did you -- dare?! You're starting the game with a dare?" 
Alex shrugged, not appreciating the lopsided quality still 
being cuffed to the door gave it. Alex had a love for 
symmetry. "Dare." 
Mulder was visibly upset, and in games like these it was 
dangerous, but Alex was feeling a bit... prickly. 
"You don't have a dare for me, Agent Mulder? Tsk. Poor 
planning on your--" 
Alex was cut off by the feel of Mulder yanking the door 
open again just long enough to uncuff him. And drag him to 
the truly frightening bathtub. 
"Take a drink, Krycek. A great, big mouthful." 
"Oh, *man*. You sick bastard!" 
//*I* wanted that one...// 
"Passing on a dare? This game is going to move rather 
quickly... What was the rule? Three passes and you're 
out?" 
Alex had played the one-spanking-per-pass version, but he 
chose not to share that fact. 
He wrinkled his nose ostentatiously and started to bend, 
Mulder immediately released his hold and he came *that* 
close to falling in face first. 
//Oh, you, asshole.// 
Alex tossed a dirty look over his shoulder and took the 
aforementioned mouthful. And promptly spat it out. 
"Hey--" 
"You said *nothing* about swallowing, Mulder." 
"Sneaky little prick, aren't you?" 
Alex arched an eyebrow at the other man, but Mulder's 
expression was only blandly amused. 
"It's worth it to think of all that dead skin and soap 
scumming your tongue." 
Alex, who had just about managed to forget that, felt his 
stomach roll. It apparently showed on his face, because 
Mulder's smile was truly happy. And evil. 
"Your turn, *Alex*." 
Alex swiped a hand over his lips, reached to rub it on 
Mulder's sweats too quickly for the man to jump back. 
"Lemme brush my teeth first." 
Not bothering to wait for a response he snatched Mulder's 
toothbrush out of his kit, crossed to the grimy little 
alcove, and performed extensive oral hygiene. Ran the 
water, but didn't bother to rinse out the brush before 
returning to a scowling Mulder. "Truth or dare?" 
* 
"Truth," Mulder answered, too quickly. Then he gave Krycek 
a slow smile. "I figure you've already read any files old 
Smokey has on me. I guess I'm just an open secret." 
Krycek gave him a shit eating grin of his own. 
"You're right. I have a pretty good idea of what went on 
with you and Stevie Goldman when you were both fourteen." 
Mulder felt his face go white. 
Krycek's smile grew wider, genial. 
"But there are enough gaps to make a few questions worth 
while." 
[Those. Fucking. Bastards.] 
"Did you go down on him, Mulder? Or did he just touch you, 
with those wide knobby hands of his?" 
[You can't have the childhood I *can* remember, you fuck. 
I won't let you.] 
"Pass," he said distinctly. His eyes burned. [It's just 
the soap.] 
* 
Alex felt like crowing, but he also distinctly regretted 
not bringing up rules for passing. 
As innocently as possible he asked, "Did we ever decide 
what you have to do if you want to pass? We could always 
pay for a bottle downstairs..." 
"I don't drink." 
//Anymore...// 
"Too bad, too bad. There's nothing quite like *real* 
Russian vodka." 
"Whatever, Krycek. What the hell's wrong with the 3 passes 
you're out rule?" 
"Boring." 
"I have no intention of being your entertainment for the 
evening, asshole." 
"Asshole, cocksucker... I want another turn, Mulder." 
"What? Those aren't the rules." 
Alex invaded Mulder's space, intrigued by the brief flinch, 
the darkening eyes that may have been no more than a 
symptom of the questionable light. He wondered if the 
older man ever dreamed of the Goldman kid. "The rules, the 
rules. Don't lie to me, Mulder." He lowered his voice to 
a whisper. "You must have had to do *something* to pay for 
those passes." 
* 
Mulder swallowed, an audible click in his suddenly dry 
throat. He almost wished for a shot of vodka.... Vodka 
would disguise the burn in his stomach as nausea. 
"I played at parties, Krycek. There were no... 
consequences. We were just kids," he said, and he wondered 
if he'd tell Krycek after all. 
"This isn't really a game, Mulder. You know that. Here, 
there *will* be... penalties." 
Mulder was suddenly distracted by the past, by the green 
glow of light through the wavy plastic in the Goldman's 
cabana, of the close and humid air, sharp with chlorine, 
thick with mildew. Stevie's hands at his waist. 
Trembling. 
"What if I call the fucking "game" off, then? I don't 
think you have anything worth giving to me." 
"How will you know for sure if you don't play?" 
"I won't." He smiled at Krycek. "But I can live with 
that." 
"Can you?" 
Mulder was making his way toward the bed when Krycek 
threw another hook at his guts. 
"I can't believe you're going to pussy out like this, 
Mulder." 
Mulder felt his lip curl, and pivoted to face Krycek again. 
Krycek, who'd made no move to dress. A man wearing nothing 
but a smirk and a towel. 
"Fine. You must have an idea. What do you think the 
consequence should be, tough guy?" 
* 
Alex started to congratulate himself internally on having 
pulled Mulder in so well... but then he realized that any 
answer he gave would probably tell the other man far too 
much about himself. 
"I'm willing to negotiate, Mulder." 
Mulder snorted in disgust. "Nice pat answer there, Krycek. 
What's the matter? Not willing to let me in that fuzzy 
head of yours?" 
"Not unless it's a game question." 
"But you've already established that it's not my turn yet." 
"Fine. Why don't you tell *me* what you played for? 
Punches? Pedicures?" 
Mulder nearly growled at him. "Not unless it's a game 
question, fucker." 
"Mexican standoff, O Mysterious Masked One." 
"Seems like, Tonto. So how do we get around this?" 
//We've got problems, baby, that's OK...// 
"We could skip the theatrics if we just disallowed passes. 
Which would mean you'd have to answer the question." 
"You're a fucking pervert, Krycek." 
"So I've been told. Well?" 
"I seem to recall you asking several questions. Pick one." 
Alex smiled happily, and pursed his lips in a parody of 
deep thought. 
"You're wasting time." 
"No, no, I really do have to consider this. There's so 
*much* I want to know." 
"I declare a 30 second limit on question/dare choice." 
"What?" 
And then he started humming the Jeopardy tune. 
//Tip me over and pour. Me. Out.// 
"Time's up. My tur--" 
"Fuck off, Mulder. Did you blow him?" 
* 
[Stevie had tasted like sweat. His kisses were shallow, 
clumsy, anxious. Mulder could remember the slip of 
Stevie's tongue over his lips... The way he could feel 
Stevie's heart beat against his own bare, tanned chest, 
Stevie's boner digging into his hip as Stevie tried to hold 
him still, those knobby hands curling at his hip, against 
the slick fabric of his swim trunks. 
Mulder had been almost crying, terrified, but exulted, too. 
Stevie had taught him his hookshot. 
Mulder had loved him.] 
Mulder foundered, hit with a rush of nostalgia so strong it 
made his eyes tear. Could Krycek even understand it? 
Could he really give this to him, just for some possible 
scrap of promised "truth?" 
[He'd jumped when Stevie had slipped a finger into his 
waistband. He remembered looking up, Stevie's face weirdly 
naked without his round gold rimmed glasses, still about 
three inches taller than Mulder had been. 
"Is.. is this okay, Fox? Do you want me to--" He'd looked 
miserable, afraid, tempted. 
"Yeah. It's okay, Stevie. Can I...? Can I touch you too? 
You know, there?"] 
Krycek looked impatient. 
"Don't tell me you can't remember?" 
Mulder had little doubt he'd be hearing the Jeopardy theme 
song again before long. 
[Make up your mind, dammit. Give it up or keep it. Don't 
fucking *dither*.] 
[Stevie had nodded, Adam's apple bobbing. He'd frozen when 
Mulder grazed the other boy's erection with his fingertips 
through the purple, dripping fabric of Stevie's swimsuit. 
Before he knew what he was doing, Mulder had gotten to his 
knees. He just wanted a closer look... He'd tugged 
Stevie's shorts down, saw the flushed curve of skin as 
Stevie's hard on bobbed up, freed from the elastic.] 
Mulder closed his eyes. 
[Stevie had never seemed so tall. And he'd never looked as 
terrified, not since his old house had burned down, and 
they'd spent the night up keeping watch for looters. The 
flesh beneath his dark eyes was pale, soft looking. Like 
the skin of his penis. It looked so smooth... 
"Can I... Could I kiss it, Stevie?"] 
"Yeah," Mulder said finally, sounding tired. "I blew him. 
Truth or dare?" 
"That's *it*?" 
Mulder didn't disguise his contempt. 
"I answered the question. Prurient pedophiliac detail 
isn't required, Uncle Al." 
* 
//Not yet it isn't.// 
All right, Mulder. Your turn." 
"Is it really? I hadn't noticed." 
"You're sounding a bit bitter for someone who made me sweat 
for a four word answer." 
"I already asked truth or dare, Krycek. Procrastinating?" 
The world-weariness in his tone was truly a work of art. 
Alex resolved to get him to do it enough that he'd be able 
to emulate it. 
"Truth, Mulder." 
"Did you kill my father?" 
"No." 
"You lying sonofabitch." 
"So what? If it isn't the answer you wanted to hear I'm 
automatically lying?" 
"If someone asked you if it was raining outside you'd say 
no even if you were dripping on the motherfucking carpet." 
"A good line, but ask yourself: How many times have I lied 
to you? Really lied? How many times have you ever even 
asked me a *question*?" 
"That doesn't sound like a game question." 
Alex threw up his hands and sat on the bed, considered 
drawing his knee up to get comfortable, but decided it was 
just a bit too obvious. "Fine, Mulder. Truth or dare." 
* 
[The truth can't hurt you. The truth is always beautiful, 
always right. And if these are the *questions*...] 
"Truth," Mulder said, calmly. 
"Tell me, in prurient, pedophiliac detail, about your first 
time, Mulder." 
[Of course.] 
Sighing, Mulder pushed his drying hair out of his eyes, 
hating the sickly sweet scent of lavender. 
"You'll have to be more specific, Krycek." 
Krycek, perched indolently on the bed with his legs 
stretched and crossed at the ankles, had to know he was 
stalling as well as he did, but it was part of the game. 
"And Jesus, Krycek, would you do me a favor? Would you 
put on some clothes? It's weird to have a conversation 
with someone wearing a towel. Even for me." 
Krycek gave him a long, smug look. 
"It's not your turn." 
"It wasn't a dare, you stupid bastard. Simple decorum." 
"I want to know everything, Mulder, " Krycek intoned, 
leaning in, arms crossed primly against his chest. "I want 
you to tell me how it felt, what it tasted like, what you 
said to him..." 
Mulder glared at him. His fingers bunched. 
[Why take the high road, Mulder. He'll still be able to 
translate with broken ribs...] 
* 
"Stevie smelled like his pool. Too much chlorine. We were 
in the cabana, getting changed and he... he touched me." 
"Where?" 
Mulder glared for a few moments, but Alex merely gazed back 
as innocently as possible. 
"You are such a fucking *vulture*!" 
"Passes aren't allowed, Mulder. Or are you forfeiting?" 
Mulder's eyes went cold, just a shutter-drop of ice over 
the burning green. Alex started to relax a little more 
obviously on the bed, fluffing the pillow in a mostly 
futile attempt to give it some life. 
"No." 
"No, what?" Alex looked up absently to find Mulder 
advancing on him. 
//Uh oh.// 
"No, I'm not..." The mattress dipped alarmingly when 
Mulder knelt on it, nearly causing Alex to fall over. He 
threw out a hand to brace himself, brushed the soft cotton 
of Mulder's sweats. "Forfeiting." 
//Or maybe not uh oh.// 
"Then what *are* you doing, Mulder?" 
"You wanted to know what I did with Stevie, right?" 
"Yeah..." 
Mulder's voice was cold, professional. "Words can't 
express... everything, Krycek." 
Alex swallowed once, licked his lips, and told himself it 
was purely for Mulder's benefit. "I think you're right, 
Agent Mulder." 
"For some things..." And Mulder brushed a hand over the 
towel. Alex gasped -- he had no idea when he'd gotten that 
erection. "For some things actions speak louder than 
words." 
"Mmm..." Alex raked Mulder with a glance, found himself 
regretting the fact that the other man had dried too much 
for the tee shirt to cling interestingly to his chest. "I 
thought I'd have to wait until you were stupid enough to 
let me *dare* you." 
"Shut up, Krycek. Stevie didn't do much talking." 
* 
Stevie hadn't actually been in his graduating class, due to 
skipped grades, but he'd run into him at his High School 
reunion anyway. He'd come as Gail Pfeiffer's date. 
He and Mulder had spent the night grinning at each other 
like fools, elbows touching. 
Then Stevie ["Stephen, now."] had given him a hug and left 
with Gail. 
Mulder heard later that they'd married, that Stevie... 
Stephen Goldman had two kids. 
Both he and Gail were orthodontists; they had a practice 
in Connecticut. 
Stevie's adulthood hadn't changed him; he was still sweet, 
a little clumsy. 
Mulder had never forgotten their time in his father's 
cabana. 
"Stevie smelled like the pool," Mulder repeated. "He was 
cool to the touch; it was early in the season and the water 
was cold, a little green. Mr. Goldman could never get the 
proportions right." 
Mulder slipped off the bed again, knelt on the floor in 
front of the man he'd dragged across countries. 
"Mrs. Goldman was at the hair stylist with my mother." 
Gently, Mulder lifted the towel from across Krycek's lap. 
The room was cool; Krycek's nipples were taut and pink. 
"Stevie never got tan. But he never burned, either. He 
was smooth. Taller than me." 
Mulder studied the rosy erection curving up slightly from 
Krycek's thighs. He stroked the head with one fingertip, 
heard Krycek's indrawn breath. The muscles in Krycek's 
thighs tensed; his toes flexed. Mulder almost smiled. 
"He didn't... Stevie didn't kiss you?" 
Frowning, Mulder looked up and met Krycek's olive drab 
gaze... 
"Stevie had brown eyes." 
Kneeling up, Mulder took Krycek's hands and rested them on 
his hips. 
"He never moved his hands when he kissed me. He'd hold 
still... so he could," Mulder leaned in and breathed softly 
on Krycek's chin. "Concentrate." 
A soft caress of humid breath, then a slip of tongue, 
lapping at Krycek's lips. A pause, then the light press of 
lips against the younger man's. 
When Krycek opened his mouth, Mulder drew away. 
"Not like that. There was no deep kissing." 
Krycek looked disgruntled; his hair was drying in random 
spikes. 
"But he must have--" 
"But this is the first time, Alex." Softly. 
"Dammit, Mulder--" 
"Shut up," Mulder ordered blandly. "Stevie could hardly 
stand up, let alone talk." 
His gaze had dropped back to Krycek's cock, now straining 
upwards, silently begging to be touched. 
"I asked him if I could touch it. If I could kiss it." 
Krycek's eyebrows had climbed to his hairline, and he 
nodded tightly. 
Mulder bent briefly and touched his lips to the purpling 
head of Alex Krycek's cock. The dream of a time of 
tenderness years past made the kiss sweet, simple. And 
nowhere near enough. 
Mulder sat back on his heels and looked up at Krycek 
searchingly. 
"Truth or dare?" 
* 
Alex couldn't quite make his brain work. The best possible 
outcome to this situation would involve that cocksucking 
mouth stretched around him, but he didn't know how best to 
achieve that. 
Mulder was staring down at him, bland as ever. No, that 
wasn't quite right. The lines that had seemed to be 
etching themselves on the older man's face for the past 
several days had smoothed out again. Mulder didn't look 
anything at all... except, perhaps, younger. 
Alex watched the rise and fall of his own chest, tried to 
slow it down. 
"Do I need to hum the Jeopardy song again?" The voice was 
dry... but still much too calm. 
"Please don't, I'll be good." 
"Liar." 
A little better, but nowhere near enough. 
Alex smiled, appalled by the shaky feel of his facial 
muscles. "Maybe, Mulder, maybe. Truth." 
He didn't trust the other man not to send him to the tub 
again. Not by a long shot. 
"Your truth is worthless, Krycek." 
"Your dares are truly disturbing. Besides, it's my 
choice." 
"Fine. Tell me..." 
Another pause, and Alex had to wonder what he was missing 
out on by not choosing the dare. 
"Yeah?" 
"Tell me, in full, prurient, and -- if necessary -- 
pedophiliac detail why you were chosen to spy on me." 
There were a lot of implications to that question and Alex 
couldn't quite hold back a wince. 
Mulder just cocked an eyebrow at him and settled more 
comfortably on his heels. Alex tried to search the older 
man's eyes for something to latch onto, some cue to tailor 
his story to. 
"Tick tock, Krycek." 
Alex rolled his eyes and decided on a tack. He turned his 
face away and tried to work up a blush. 
//C'mon, you remember what it was like... too much gel, too 
little experience. Mulder showing you up *again*...// 
The flush was more of anger than embarrassment, but he 
doubted Mulder would be able to tell the difference. 
"I already know you're no kid, Krycek. Stop fucking 
around." 
//Busted.// 
Alex turned back to face him, gave him the full benefit of 
his anger, figuring that, at the very least, Mulder would 
appreciate the turnabout. 
Mulder rocked a bit, seemed to be trying pin Alex like a 
bug on his gaze. "A forfeit, Alex? Tired enough to deal 
with the pallet?" 
"Fuck you." 
"Not tonight." 
Alex arched an eyebrow, chose to ignore the twist of scorn. 
He was happy to have *his* Mulder back, anyway. 
"They decided the subtle approach wasn't working. That 
your games with Mr. Goldman were, perhaps, more than just 
teenaged experimentation. Or maybe that Scully was just 
getting too fat." 
Alex treasured the flash of anger. 
"You had protection overseas, Mulder. No one was quite 
sure *what* you were doing until that rather... public... 
mess with Phoebe Green." 
"So you were supposed to be my new fucktoy." 
Alex nodded once, waited. 
"They might have shown a bit more faith in my taste." 
* 
Something about the set of Krycek's mouth suggested he was 
trying not to laugh, but it may have been sheer pique. 
Mulder was prepared to believe that Krycek was vain. 
"You haven't really answered the question. That much I 
*knew*. Why were *you*, Alex Krycek, chosen for such a 
mission?" 
Krycek narrowed his eyes shrewdly. 
"I'll allow that as the same question, but on a 
technicality." 
Mulder rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. 
"Just tell me." 
"I volunteered." 
Mulder, startled, blurted, "Why?" 
Krycek slid off the bed, knee to knee with the older man, 
and still hard. 
"Truth or dare?" 
"Truth," Mulder answered, hands spread on his thighs. He 
made every effort to seem calm. 
"Did you want me before you were sure I was a plant?" 
"Yes," soft, but with too much air behind it. 
"Do you want me now?" 
Krycek's snub nose was inches from his face, the other 
man's breath warm and close. 
Mulder shook his head. "Truth or dare." 
Mulder wondered who was winning. He felt light-headed; 
maybe it was the fact that he was cutting off the blood 
supply to his legs. 
He got to his feet, reeling slightly, legs numb. He 
reached out, found Krycek's strong shoulder. For a 
heartbeat, two, he rested there, steadying himself. 
Then he snatched his hand back as if he'd touched something 
sharp. 
* 
There was no way in hell Alex was going to let Mulder get 
away from him. Not now. 
As soon as the older man was fully turned away Alex got to 
his feet, wincing at the pop his knee made, loud in the 
otherwise silent room. He told himself it had been a 
difficult few days and ruthlessly stifled all thoughts 
about encroaching age. 
Alex moved up behind him, but Mulder didn't react. It 
didn't matter. 
He knew Mulder could feel his heat. 
"Truth." 
Mulder was silent, gripping the fabric of his sweats. Alex 
wondered what the other man was thinking, what he smelled 
like under that soap, tasted like... 
"C'mon, Mulder, you can't be out of questions al--" 
"What was it like to have the alien inside you?" 
//Going for cruelty... No way I'm letting you win.// 
"Exceedingly unprivate and messy. Truth or dare, Mulder?" 
* 
Mulder was suddenly weary of the whole premise. He'd 
learned nothing, and Krycek was using Truth as a hollow 
shell game. Oblique. Circumspect. God damn it. 
He'd given up the sweetest kiss in his life for Krycek to 
leer at? 
Fine. He wouldn't find shelter in pretense anymore. 
"Dare." 
* 
Alex head was pounding. There didn't seem to be any oxygen 
left in the room. 
Mulder was still, but the thrum of tension was nearly 
palpable. 
"Turn around, put your arms around me, and kiss me. 
Deeply." 
"I never would've figured you for a romantic, Krycek." The 
tone was flat, but Mulder was thrumming like a tuning fork 
just beneath the skin. Beautiful. 
"If it makes you feel any better you can tell yourself I 
just want your mouth." 
Mulder didn't say another word, just turned and slipped his 
arms over Alex's shoulders, melded his body to Alex's own. 
Alex groaned at the feeling of heat and muscle trapped 
behind cotton, but it was only a heartbeat before Mulder's 
tongue slipped into his mouth. 
Sugar, buttered bread, a tongue-- 
A tongue trying to learn every secret of his mouth. For a 
whimsical moment Alex wondered if the older man was 
searching for implants but then Mulder bucked against him 
and he felt his thoughts burn away. 
All he could do was kiss. All he was tried to express 
itself through lips and a tongue he could do nothing to 
control. 
And then Mulder pulled away, color high and eyes blazing. 
Alex caught his limbs before they could grab for the other 
man again, but he knew Mulder had seen the aborted 
movement. 
//Fuck!// 
"Truth or dare, Krycek." 
Alex tried to search Mulder's eyes again, but it was just 
as useless as before. 
//What the hell.// 
"Dare." 
* 
Mulder deliberately wiped his mouth with his palm, spat 
meditatively. 
"This is bullshit, Krycek. Worse, this is a waste of time. 
The game ends when I say it does, and whether you win or 
not I can still make you sleep on the floor. You knew all 
that going in. 
"So I dare you to tell me what you really want." 
* 
"You're daring me to *tell* you something?" 
"I'll admit it's a cheap ploy, but at this point..." 
"All right, Mulder. You wanna know what I really want?" 
"You're stalling. Forfeit?" 
"Not a fucking chance." Alex moved deliberately into 
Mulder's space. Let himself hiss as his cock brushed 
against soft cotton. Grabbed at the bulge in Mulder's 
sweats gently but with little subtlety and treasured the 
aborted buck. "This is what I want." 
"I should've known --" 
Alex cut him off with a finger laid against Mulder's mouth, 
crushing those lips against the smooth wall of teeth, not 
hard enough to be painful. "I also..." 
Alex leaned in to kiss, catching more of his own finger 
than anything else, but did not miss the sight of Mulder's 
eyes fluttering closed. Squeezed Mulder's cock through the 
sweats with his other hand and felt the moan in his toes. 
"I also want this, Mulder." 
"Krycek--" 
"Shut up, Mulder. You asked me what I wanted, and I'm gonna 
tell you." 
"So talk!" 
"Actions," Alex reminded, leaning closer. 
A move, more awkward than he would've liked but just as 
fast, and he had hold of Mulder's hips. Alex ground them 
into his own and when Mulder arched his head away he took 
the opportunity to attack the pale, elegant throat. 
"I want this, too..." 
* 
Mulder felt wild, pinned. His heart was slamming against 
his ribs; they were so close that Krycek's heat soaked 
through the fabric of his shirt. Mulder got the unsettling 
impression he could have counted every hair on Krycek's 
broad chest, even through the cotton. He tried to swallow, 
struggle, but his limbs seemed to be acting of their own 
volition. 
The other man ground his thick, hot flesh into Mulder's 
belly and the weird, heady fragrance of strong lavender 
soap invaded his senses. 
Teeth were nipping at the soft skin under his chin, closing 
now on the bone of his jaw. 
"Krycek, this--" 
[This can't happen. Won't.] 
Mulder pried the other man's hands off him, stumbled 
backwards. 
Breathing hard, Mulder propped his hands on his thighs as 
if he'd just run up six flights. 
He lifted his head and saw Krycek, naked, rampant, 
*dripping*, eyes wide and glazed, little mouth wet and 
inviting... 
[Fuck it.] 
He straightened up, strode across the room, hooked an arm 
around Krycek's waist, and flung him to the bed. 
Krycek looked shocked, but his heaving chest would not have 
looked out of place on the cover of a romance novel, or a 
girl taking it from behind in a porn flick. 
The small bed creaked, a complaining whine that made 
Mulder wonder if they'd break it. Krycek's body draped the 
mattress, straining, inviting his touch. 
For a long moment, Mulder merely looked at him, the younger 
man's smooth, muscled body, the mink lashed eyes. 
He could feel the blood pound into his cock, feel it throb 
against his belly, chafe against the cloth of his sweats... 
"Close your eyes," he ordered. 
* 
Alex swallowed hard, longed to take his cock in hand and 
stroke. Longed to leap off the bed and tear Mulder's 
clothes off with his teeth. 
He settled for closing his eyes, and tried not to writhe at 
how the sudden darkness made the room so much colder. 
//Please...// 
* 
His lowered lashes nearly swept his cheeks; Mulder suddenly 
regretted his request. Krycek looked every bit as young as 
he'd pretended to be. 
Mulder found himself kneeling, and brushing his lips 
against those fluttering lashes. 
Then he shifted, and pressed a gentle kiss on that prim, 
pink mouth. 
"Alex." 
He kissed him again, teeth behind his lips, increasing the 
pressure. 
"Alex. Open your eyes." 
He straightened up again, watched the other man follow 
his directions. 
* 
Alex breathed deep and followed instructions. Mulder was 
gazing down at him. Again. Mulder had stopped touching 
him. Again. 
He wanted to be blindfolded. Vision had become a privilege 
within that brief time of darkness and Alex wanted to work 
for it. Mulder was flushing -- a slow creep of red out 
from under his shirt that made Alex want to warm himself 
against blood-heated skin. An animal search for comfort 
and pain. 
But there were rules to be followed. 
"What next?" 
* 
"Now you open your mouth," Mulder replied. He tried not to 
sound as tender as he suddenly felt. 
"Not so wide, Alex." 
He nodded his approval, and then leaned over Krycek again, 
hands flat on either side of his head. He draped his body 
across the younger man's, brought his knee up to hook it 
around Krycek's hip, and dipped his head to kiss him. 
He let his tongue steal in, glide against Krycek's teeth, 
the smooth gloss of his lips, the soft wall of the inside 
of his cheek... 
* 
Alex didn't know what to do. Clearly, Mulder wanted to 
retain some measure of control. Contrary bastard. Alex 
had been perfectly willing to let the other man tell 
himself he was being swept away by the moment. 
But this... 
This was intoxicating. Mulder was a solid weight, and the 
hard cock pressing into him was reassurance and tangible 
frustration. 
//Just let me...// 
But despite the earlier bravado he really didn't know what 
he wanted to do. Mulder was a wealth of riches... 
This was temptation, torment; Krycek gave in and took 
Mulder's flickering tongue into his mouth and *sucked*. 
* 
The moment Alex started sucking on his tongue, Mulder knew 
there was no turning back. Moaning softly, he rocked his 
hips against the man beneath him with every sweet pulse 
of pressure. Beneath them the bed complained avidly. 
His hands tightened in the sheets, and his cock felt heavy 
and hot. 
[Jesus, I'll come in my pants this way.] 
* 
Alex heard needful, continuous moans, and with a bolt of 
horror that went straight to his cock, he realized they 
were his own. 
//I can't take this.// 
He broke the kiss, feeling the tug of Mulder's teeth on his 
lower lip, feeling a haze lower over his vision. He was 
blind with lust. 
"Mulder... Mulder, please let me touch you I have to--" 
Mulder bit him again, ran his hands down Alex's arms, 
tangling his fingers with Alex's own and squeezing for a 
moment before bringing them decisively -- if awkwardly -- 
to his ass. 
Alex gripped him hard, tossed his head back to avoid the 
kiss he knew would make him lose his load much too fast. 
He slid his hands under the waistband of Mulder's sweats 
and gasped at the feel of silky skin under his palms. 
//How did I ever--// 
* 
Mulder surprised himself by laughing. Krycek was groping 
him like a kid. 
He kissed Krycek's temple, enjoying the way the younger man 
writhed desperately beneath him. Krycek's hands settled, 
smoothing under his shirt, up and down his back in long 
maddening strokes. 
Kneeling up, Mulder crossed his arms and dragged the hem of 
his tee shirt up over his head. 
* 
The sight of Mulder's chest shouldn't have made another 
load of pre-cum shoot down his cock, but it did. He'd seen 
this before, but this... this was material from his 
favorite fantasies. Mulder, hard and aching and stripping 
for no one but himself. 
//You want this just as bad as I do. And I'm gonna make 
sure you get it.// 
The process was moving in odd ways, fast as the rake of his 
nails over Mulder's nipple, slow as the sea roll of 
Mulder's hips over his own as the older man arched and 
moved at the feel... 
"Come back down here, I want to suck your nipples." And 
he sincerely hoped the hoarse rasp of his voice did as much 
for Mulder as it did for him. 
* 
Mulder straddled the other man, rubbed his jutting cock 
against Krycek's and shook his head. 
"Come up here," he murmured, and curled his hands around 
Krycek's upper arms, dragging him upright, setting the 
other's lips against his chest, and pressing the back of 
his dark head. 
"If you bite me, you'll be sleeping on the floor, Alex," he 
warned. But he could hear the threat softened by his own 
broken rasp. Not as hot as Krycek's husking purr, but then 
nothing could be. 
* 
Alex wriggled a bit for better position, gasping against 
Mulder's chest when he lost precious contact with the other 
man's cock. 
Mulder, thankfully, was having none of it, pulling Alex's 
head in tighter and rocking them back together, hip to hip. 
Alex wanted it harder, wanted to be bruised by those fine 
bones, but for now there was sweat-tangy flesh in his mouth 
and he had to 
//suck it more taste so good I want--// 
Mulder rubbed continuously over Alex's head, began to work 
his hips faster. 
//So good--// 
Alex nuzzled back into the teasing palm, tried a graze of 
teeth. Mulder arched into his mouth and Alex felt himself 
pulse with wave after wave of lust. This was too much and 
he never, ever wanted to stop. 
* 
Mulder felt like he'd saddled a bronc; Krycek's hips heaved 
beneath his, and his mouth was everywhere. The bed was 
groaning now, and it wasn't the only one. 
[jesus. jesus. fucking. christ.] 
Mulder screwed his eyes shut and arched into Alex's 
maelstrom, that teasing mouth... 
"W-w-watch the teeth..." 
He hid his face in Alex's hair, scrubbed the fine bristle 
against his cheek, coughed out a sobbing breath. 
[Fuck. Fuck. I'm gonna come--] 
With a lurch, he bowled Alex over, rolling him back to the 
mattress, stroking his swollen cock against the smooth hot 
flesh of Krycek's belly. 
"Alex," he moaned, afraid to lose it. "Alex lemme get out 
of the sweats. Let go, Alex." 
* 
For a long moment Alex *couldn't* make himself comply. The 
logic was beyond him, he only wanted to bite and lick and 
suck until his jaw seized up. Or he died. Whichever came 
first. 
"Alex, please--" 
The desperation in Mulder's voice was a blade in his soul, 
though, and Alex threw himself back to the mattress with a 
stifled scream. He already missed the feel of tightening 
flesh between his teeth, and wondered dimly if Mulder would 
ever hold his head like that again. 
//I want so much...// 
"Mulder please hurry I can't..." 
He couldn't finish the thought, Mulder was tearing at the 
sweatpants wildly and his cock was hard against his belly. 
Alex felt his mouth flood and launched himself at the other 
man with a growl. 
The taste was just what he wanted -- sweat and need -- and 
Mulder's hands shaped themselves to hold him close. 
//Perfect.// 
* 
He couldn't laugh this time. Couldn't breathe, either. 
[How the hell did he--?] 
But coherent thought was erased in the hot swallow of 
Krycek's greedy mouth. 
[but swallow me whole how can he take it take it take it 
let me fuck yes fuck yes fuck] 
He jabbed his hips into the welcoming heat, cried hoarsely 
as Krycek's hand squeezed his balls. 
The ancient bedframe was squealing like a rusted swingset; 
Mulder thought he was going to lose his mind. 
"Alex, Jesus--" He was going to lose it completely. Cry. 
Shout. Come. 
All of them. 
* 
Alex felt Mulder's cock thicken in his mouth. He was 
stretched with it, aching, thrusting wildly against one 
silk-scratchy calf. He knew this wouldn't last long and he 
took his hand away from Mulder's balls and caught the base 
of his cock instead. Stroked and squeezed while he pulled 
back just enough -- 
//Oh sweet Jesus the *taste*--// 
He could hear Mulder's screams but they were irrelevant to 
the thick, hot rush of tasting him come in his mouth. 
Salty and bitter and wonderful and he only wished he could 
hold it all... 
* 
Mulder was sure he was nearly gibbering. Unintelligible 
endearments filled his head and no doubt left his lips. 
"Alex. Alex," he murmured, pressing kisses against all the 
overheated flesh he could reach. 
"Lay back, Alex... That's right. Close your eyes," he 
whispered again, covering the other man, sucking at the 
crest of his ear. 
* 
Alex groaned at the feel of sharp teeth at his ear lobe, 
felt his whore of a body try to press up and rub against 
the older man. He was wild with need and couldn't take the 
tease. 
"Please touch me suck me something--" 
Mulder continued pressing kisses all over Alex's face, only 
stopping to murmur -- 
"Shh... shhh..." 
-- briefly against his swollen mouth. 
"I can't I can't--" 
* 
He could feel Krycek tremble, pant, all along his skin. 
Nuzzling the younger man's throat, Mulder curled his hand 
around Krycek's stiff cock, and cupped his other hand 
against the back of his shaven skull. He licked Krycek's 
ear, kissed it, hummed against it, squeezed his slippery 
cock once, then again. 
"Come for me, Alex. I want to feel you..." 
A long stripping stroke, his practiced hand urging Krycek's 
hips to snap, his eyes roll back in his head... 
He could feel Krycek's muscles tense, feel him arch off the 
bed. 
Mulder knotted his teeth in the heavy ridge of muscle that 
sloped from Krycek's neck to his tensing shoulder, and took 
another long, stroking pull at Krycek's weeping cock. 
* 
Alex pushed back against Mulder's hand at his nape, the 
sensual rub and brush of his hair driving nearly as insane 
as the clever hand on his cock. 
//Jesus God Mulder is jerking me Mulder--// 
"Mulder!" 
His hips snapped mindlessly into the rough pleasure of 
Mulder's hand and he tried to hold back but when Mulder 
bit down harder there was just no hope. 
He felt his whole body tense for a split second and then 
he was nothing but the rush of himself down and out, 
wordless cries echoing meaninglessly around the room. 
* 
Mulder wondered if he was heavy enough to smother the 
man beneath him, but languor had stolen his bones. He 
kissed the chewed, bruising skin of Krycek's shoulder, 
attempted to shift his weight. 
Krycek wrapped his arms around him. 
"No. Stay there." 
Nodding sleepily, Mulder shaped his mouth into a kiss 
against the new patch of shoulder he was now nearly 
drooling against and made a grab for the blanket. 
Krycek, no doubt noting his complete lack of 
coordination, 
[who spiked the punch?] 
fished for the coverlet and drew it up against Mulder's 
sweat slick shoulders. 
"Alex," he murmured, before he forgot, or the impulse 
passed. "Thanks." 
* 
Alex was too fuzzed to acknowledge the unfamiliar sound of 
gratitude with more than a moderately frustrating failed 
attempt to reach any of Mulder with his lips. 
Alex smiled in the dark, sated and self-satisfied. Nuzzled 
Mulder's arm before falling back against the pillow. He'd 
won the bed, after all. 
He wondered if Mulder would still call him Alex in the 
morning. 
* 
Beneath him, he could feel his heart thud in counterpoint 
to Krycek's, as it had to Stevie's all those years ago. 
Nestling close, he inhaled the fading scent of lavender, 
and the sweet, fresh spice of new sweat. 
Their putrid little room suddenly seemed almost cozy, and 
he was nearer to peace than he'd been in at least a year. 
I could get used to this, he thought dreamily, relaxed 
enough to forget to be snide. 
Absently, he kissed Alex's shoulder, the bruise already 
darkening, and closed his eyes. 
  
* 
End. 
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