Naughty Chair
by Te
7/98

Disclaimers: No, they're not mine. This little reminder 
only makes the anger grow.

Spoilers: Bwahahahaaa

Summary: Alex pays a visit.

Ratings Note: NC-17 for Mulder/Krycek smut.

Archiving Information: Ask first.

Author's Note: A great story by H.E.A.T., a timely comment 
from the mysterious Viridian (both on Nick-Fixx), and this 
happened.  With thanks to Alicia and Kass for editing and 
bravery in the face of HormonalAndSatanic!Te.

Naughty Chair
by Te
Daddy793@aol.com
******

Mulder assessed his mood as he opened his apartment door. A 
little frustration, some anger, just a touch of existential 
angst... all over that solid, familiar bedrock of 
depression. That was only as it should be. The apartment 
was dark, also normal, but... wrong. There was a moment in 
which his eyes had time to narrow, followed by a sharp jab 
at the base of his spine; a soft purr of scotch and black 
coffee at his ear.

"Say hey, Mulder..."

//Ah. Fear and lust. That's what was missing.//

Unmistakable click of a safety being removed and he froze.

"What--"

"Did you miss me?"

Mulder could feel the smile bumping casually, naturally 
against his cheek. He really, really wished that his body 
would make even a show of resistance -- or, at the very 
least, indifference to it. 

A sigh that sounded far too much like a gasp. "With all my 
heart, Krycek." There. Nothing but sarcasm. 

Behind him and just to his right was that chuckle that 
never failed to undo him. In these moments, there was 
always an edge to it that kept the younger man from 
succeeding in his attempt to sound lazy and superior. 

//And why have I let it happen so many times that I have an 
honest-to-God statistical base?//

... and there it was. The barrel of the gun began to travel 
up his spine, as though Alex really couldn't stop himself 
from escalating the encounter. As though he were no more 
than, say, a misplaced innuendo away from forcing Mulder to 
his knees and fucking his face. 

"I'm... touched." And the barrel began working its way down 
again. Mulder bit back the commentary. It was possible that 
he wouldn't have to beg for it this time; it was possible 
that the other man knew exactly how sexy the sound of his 
own need was to Mulder -- and adjusted his tone 
accordingly. The moment stretched of its own accord, the 
breath at his ear coming hot and steady, the gun gradually 
slowing to a stop. A tiny sound; Alex was licking his lips. 
Tap tap of the barrel just above his waist.

"Are you going to behave tonight, Fox?"

"Don't--"

Sharp, wet lick along his cheek, sharper tug of teeth on 
his earlobe. Mulder took a shuddering breath.

"What are you going to do if I don't, Alex?"

Abruptly, the presence behind him was gone. 

//Oh, that just isn't fair.//

Mulder whirled and grabbed for his own gun, but it was 
gone. This time it was a full-blown laugh from the vicinity 
of the bookcase. 

//That was probably an over-reaction.// 

"Relax... I was just stashing the hardware."

The older man wondered briefly when things had gotten out 
of hand, and decided it had to have been somewhere around 
the eighth contraction. He did his best to regain his 
composure. "You never did answer my question."

Alex began to

//stalk//

move toward him again, the passage through the pale slash 
of moonlight highlighting a sculpture of danger. He had 
dipped his chin a little, another step and the liquid gleam 
across his eyes was obliterated in the darkness. A few more 
and he was moving against him in languid brushes of leather 
and denim. Mulder leaned in to coax the other man's lips to 
his own, watching with fascination as each upward movement 
of Alex's chin seemed to precipitate a dip of thick lashes. 
One kiss, another, three and there was an arm around his 
waist and a soft, hungry mouth at his throat.

"I could put you in the Naughty Chair."

Mulder laughed breathlessly and tilted his head back to 
allow the other man easier access. Alex obliged the silent 
request, sucking and nipping a path to his collarbone, and 
then up again to his ear. Mulder let his hands slide along 
the waistband of Alex's jeans, occasionally dipping between 
cloth and flesh to feel the shudder of new gooseflesh. 

"I could..."

"Yes?" The older man had managed to get his hands between 
their bodies. For once, Alex was wearing jeans with a 
zipper. Mulder said a prayer of thanksgiving to the gods of 
Laundry Day. A practiced move and he had what he wanted; 
short stroke and Alex bucked once into his fist, groaned 
against his cheek. The proof of the younger man's desire, 
hot and real in his hand, was a truly unholy temptation, 
but Mulder wanted to wait a little longer. "What else would 
you to do to me, Alex?" Another squeeze. "If I didn't 
behave?"

His answer was a none-too-gentle bite behind the ear. 

"I think I'll misbehave."

Alex's laugh was cut off by a strangled gasp as Mulder 
began to work him in short, brutal pulls. The younger man 
brought his hand up to cup his former partner's nape, 
pulling him in for a deep kiss. Mulder could taste the 
brightly bitter tang of need, and then Alex was pushing him 
away. "Ah... Jesus, Mulder, I need you to suck me."

Bright flash of earlier fantasy, scraping holes in his suit 
pants, lip splitting from the force of the other man's 
thrusts... 

"On the couch." His own voice was ragged as he stumbled 
himself and his occasional lover over to the most versatile 
piece of furniture he'd ever owned. An awkwardness of eager 
flesh and recalcitrant denim and Alex was nude from the 
waist down. The younger man reached for him and it seemed 
redundant. His entire body was a demand for worship and 
Mulder knelt, gladly. 

Alex and salt, Alex and want. Times like these he felt he 
could lose himself entirely, put all of the man he wanted 
to be into the motions of teeth and tongue and let the rest 
wilt and die in the forgotten husk of his body. Cries and 
curses from above were sweetest rain, the hand in his hair 
a benediction. And when, finally, he allowed the natural 
path of his tongue to lead him up the underside and down as 
far as he could go it seemed only natural that Alex's harsh 
little scream could feel so much like his own. 

Minutes and minutes of wet, sticky kisses and a traveling 
touch more taunt than caress. 

"So what do I get for... conduct... Alex?"

"I think I need another example of just how bad you can be, 
Mulder." Strong, agile fingers had no difficulty stripping 
away the layers of the older man's workday. "Before I can 
make any judgments, that is."

"I think I might become an absolute terror if you don't get 
that mouth on my dick in the next 37 seconds." 

Alex leaned forward -- not far enough -- and ran his thumb 
along the subtle curve of Mulder's hipbone.

"What are you *waiting* for?"

"Eighteen one thousand, nineteen--"

"Oh, you *bastard*!" 

Mulder had the younger man pinned to the couch in an 
instant, but couldn't decide whether to rip off the t-shirt 
and leather jacket or simply rub himself along Alex's 
length until he found his own satisfaction. Alex was 
giggling again. Maddened, Mulder dove and took one hard 
nipple between his teeth, sucking and worrying through the 
thin fabric with gradually intensifying pressure until the 
other man moaned and arched, then moving to the other side. 
There he stayed until Alex yanked him off by the hair.

"So how am I, Alex?"

"Very bad."

"Naughty Chair bad?"

"You don't deserve the Naughty Chair."

Tight roll of hips and hardness found its like. Alex 
groaned, but the victory of the moment was lost in Mulder's 
own inability to stop thrusting against the other man's 
sweat-slippery abdomen. "Tell me... tell me what I 
deserve."

Alex threw one leg out to kick the coffee table over and 
out of the way, and Mulder found himself spinning through 
the air for a dizzy moment before hitting the floor with a 
teeth-rattling thud. 

"I thought we were done with the overt physical abuse?"

"What gave you *that* idea?"

Before he could answer there was a wickedly knowledgeable 
tongue deep in his mouth, shredding the last remnants of 
his control. Worn leather dragged across his chest and 
shoulders as Alex moved over him for an endless moment. 
Alex assaulted his mouth like a pool of water in a desert, 
lapping and sucking with purest need, always leaving the 
impression that it was never enough. Then, with one final 
lick over his bruised and swollen lips, the kiss was 
broken.

Hoarsely: "Turn over."  Pulling back barely far enough for 
Mulder to move.  Mulder obeyed, though he couldn't resist 
taking advantage of the cramped situation by teasing them 
both mercilessly with (ultimately useless) contact. He 
arranged himself on hands and knees, and the series of 
small sounds behind him spoke of preparation. Before long, 
a cool slickness found its way between his cheeks. Mulder 
had just enough time to be grateful Alex had left his 
jacket on before the sensations began to burn out his 
neurons, one by one. 

He wondered if this was the same for Alex as using his 
mouth was for him. Expression and... manipulation? Yes, 
that seemed only right. From a distance, he could feel 
himself twisting and writhing, knew those guttural pleas 
were his own. He regretted not being able to see the 
younger man's face, but had grown accustomed to waiting for 
the moments when those fingers would spasm with rare 
clumsiness. The obvious need was just as sexy as those well 
trained crooks and twists and he knew that if he asked just 
then...

"Fuck me, Alex... please..."

... it wouldn't be long before the younger man gave him 
exactly what he needed. And then they were joined and 
Mulder was slammed right back inside himself to take the 
pleasure offered. Alex was a thorough, ruthless lover, 
thrusting slow and steady with the occasional wicked twist 
of hips designed to make him howl. He felt the steadying 
hand on his shoulder, knew it for the invitation and 
request it was, and soon they were upright. Mulder screwed 
himself down on the younger man, working himself faster and 
harder than Alex ever would.

"Oh God, Mulder, do it--"

The younger man wrapped his arm around Mulder's waist and 
bit off curses in the flesh of his shoulder, still pumping 
into him again and again. Mulder fisted his own cock and 
sobbed at the abrupt sensory overload. Seconds, hours later 
he was losing it, entire body aflame and shouting. Through 
the haze of pleasure Mulder felt himself being roughly 
arranged against the couch. He rested his head on his arms 
and let the younger man's strokes prolong his own pleasure. 
A brief shudder and a small, harsh cry announced Alex's own 
finish. They collapsed in a tangle of trembling, sweating 
limbs. 

******

Mulder lapped at Alex's shoulder, bit it when the other man 
didn't move.

"Ow! What?"

"What do I get for conduct?"

"Have I told you lately that you're a lunatic?"

"Yes, but that's neither here nor there. I want to know--"

"B minus."

"B *minus*?! Why?"

"Well, there's all the talking, for one..."

Mulder sighed, bit him again. Alex just laughed. They lay 
quietly for a few more minutes, just breathing in the sex 
and calm. 

"Alex..."

"Mm-hmm..."

"Does the B minus mean you won't be greeting me with a gun 
anymore?"

"Yup. Next time it'll be a knife."

******