Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me and neither do the
lyrics. That means I don't make a cent and someone else does,
even though
I'm the one bringing them together so deliciously. Thanks
Barenaked Ladies for inspiring me this week. Thanks Ratadder
for starting this whole thing with your lyric choice.
Summary: F*ck this not knowing, thought Krycek. I'm taking the
bait. At least if he's trying to kill me, I've got his affinity for
Tequila on my side, and maybe if I can get in a few good punches, he'll be
wiped enough to let me do him again.
Spoilers: Again, I stole from the movie, and this is a sequel so the
same spoilers apply as last time. Haven't read the one before this?
Get thee to my website and look for Too Little Too Late.
Mulder swallowed his fourth shot of Tequila, feeling the biting warmth sink
into his already quite languid body. For the tenth time since entering
the bar thirty minutes ago, his neck craned, searching the area. He
tried to tell himself that he didn't know exactly who he might be looking
for, but that was a lie. Had been a lie ever since the Barenaked Ladies
had sung him through the most shocking blowjob of his life.
In the four weeks since then, Mulder had become an avid fan of the band.
He had listened to each of their songs, over and over, visualizing a one-armed
triple-agent popping the same CD into his player. He had never pictured
Krycek as the type to listen to something as light-hearted and innocuous
as Barenaked Ladies. He supposed if he were going to assign music to
his constant conundrum, it would be something like Ravel's Bolero, dark and
sweeping and complicated and...sexy.
Fuck. He needed another drink. He knocked back his fifth shot
and wandered over to the jukebox with just one more scan of the room.
He sighed and pored over the listings. Looking over his shoulder to see if
the bearded guy was anywhere around first, he dropped a handfull of quarters
in and made his selection.
He listened to the song four times, doing shots, then took a cab home and
put his own CD on autoplay, jerking himself off guiltily and falling asleep
naked with his face smashed into the pillow on his couch.
Krycek had been watching Mulder at his favorite watering hole, like he sometimes
did, when he'd noticed that Mulder was drinking more than his customary couple
of beers before heading home. He'd settled in at a comfortable distance,
observing as Mulder got drunker and drunker. When Mulder had gone to
the restroom the first time, Krycek had gotten the idea for the sign.
He'd really only meant to take things one small step past the kiss, fucking
with Mulder's head a little more, teasing the repressed and angry agent and
injecting a little fun into their complicated lives.
But it had gone so much better than that. So much better that Krycek
had thought of very little else since then, finding himself hanging around
that bar every chance he got. He noticed that Mulder drank only lightly
these days and seemed a bit more haunted than usual, looking around as if
he expected somebody.
Somebody. Ha, that's a laugh. He's looking for you, asshole,
thought Krycek. And he's staying sober enough that when he sees you,
he'll be able to kick the shit out of you for taking advantage of him.
But that didn't stop him from hanging around the bar any chance he got, watching
as Mulder drank just enough to need a ride home, then fighting the urge to
jump into the cab with him when it pulled up.
Tonight had been a little different, though. He'd watched Mulder drink
five shots of Tequila, instead of his usual one or two with beer. For
a moment, his heart raced at the thought of Mulder being drunk enough to
approach. Then his eyes had widened in shock as Mulder had walked away
from the jukebox and 'their song' had begun playing.
Was he trying to lay bait? Did he want to flush Krycek out of hiding
to beat the shit out of him...or did he want a repeat performance?
Krycek swallowed that thought, not ready for the disappointment he might
face if he allowed it to live. He became more and more uncomfortable
as he listened to the song over and over, Mulder downing shot after shot.
Finally, he watched Mulder weave his way to his cab.
Fuck this not knowing, thought Krycek. I'm taking the bait. At least
if he's trying to kill me, I've got his affinity for Tequila on my side,
and maybe if I can get in a few good punches, he'll be wiped enough to let
me do him again. A long time ago he'd stopped letting himself want
anything but Mulder's body, and whatever stolen contact he could get now
was more than he'd ever before let himself expect.
He got into his car and followed the cab at a distance. He wanted to
make sure that Mulder was headed home, and not to another bar or the Hoover
building or the Lone Gunmen's hideout or God forbid to Scully's. His
cock surged and he sighed quietly with relief when the cab pulled up in front
of the building on Hegal Place and Mulder stumbled out.
Krycek waited outside, watching until the lights went out, then made his
way to Mulder's door and silently picked the familiar lock. Mulder
hadn't even changed it since he'd broken in last time. Not that it
would have made a difference.
As he pushed the door carefully closed behind him, he noticed the music and
forgot to breathe. His widened eyes scanned the room and saw that Mulder
was nude, facedown on the couch with his hand in his crotch. His throat
closed at the sight and he was sure the neighbors could hear his heart thudding
against his ribs. He stood there and watched Mulder's back expand and
contract, timing his breaths to match, only dimly aware of his hand making
its way to rest in the same position as the man's on the couch.
"Fuck, Mulder," he whispered.
He was already painfully hard, as if he'd maintained that same erection Mulder
had left him with in the alley one month previously. He unbuttoned
the fly of his jeans and pulled out his straining cock, biting back a moan
as he began to stroke and pull it.
He spent several minutes just staring at that long, pale body, illuminated
in the ghostly light of the streetlamps outside as he worked himself.
He found himself entertaining the wholly uncharacteristically sentimental
thought that naked and guileless like this, Mulder looked like a fallen angel
from a pre- Raphaelite painting, tragic and beautiful. As the ache
in his groin became nearly unbearable, his mind made a decision even as he
realized his body had already begun to move.
He had to have him again. Fuck the consequences. He hoped Mulder
was drunk enough to allow this to happen without significant damage to either
man. This time Krycek wouldn't just be on the giving end.
He laid his gun on the floor next to the couch, deeply hoping he wouldn't
be called upon to use it but mentally prepared should the need for force
arise. He shed his jacket and T- shirt, toed off his boots and socks,
and pushed his pants and underwear down and off, not sure if he'd get the
chance to disrobe in all the commotion that was about to ensue.
Breathing in deeply, he lowered himself to his knees beside the sleeping
agent, his body tense and slightly trembling, his real hand on the side closest
to Mulder's form. Times like this he ached to have his other arm back,
but he was good enough with the prosthesis that it would serve as a help,
rather than just a hindrance, in the event of a fight.
He breathed in the scent of Mulder, semen, old leather, and sweat and remembered
another exchange in this apartment several months previous. One that
had led to a kiss, which had led to Krycek wanting more, which had led to
the foolhardy undertaking in which he was now irrevokably submerged.
*You must be losin' it Mulder. I can beat you with one hand.*
*Isn't that how you like to beat yourself?*
Oh Mulder, he sighed, gripping his painfully swollen cock. Every night.
Especially since I let myself kiss you.
And he got ready to do it again.
Mulder heard a soft,breathy sound and turned his head slightly to identify
it, bringing his hand up away from his sticky crotch and rolling onto his
back against the sweaty leather. Before his eyes could focus, a hot, hard
weight came down on him and his breath was stolen in a mashing kiss.
He froze for half a second before raising up and throwing his assailant to
the floor.
"What the fuck? Krycek??" His eyes narrowed then went wide as
he recognized the man on the floor, and before he could think better of it,
he'd launched himself at Krycek full force, landing astride him with his
chest over the man's swearing face. He quickly pushed off the floor,
moving further down Krycek's body and losing his balance, falling on top
him full force.
He heard a loud groan that sounded suspiciously *not* like discomfort.
He wriggled a bit, raising himself up off Krycek's chest and a bolt of pure
lightning went through his cock as it brushed against Krycek's own silky
hard length. His groan was louder than Krycek's, even as he tried to
roll off and away from the other man.
Krycek's arms, real and fake, came up around him, holding him to him in an
unforgiving grip. Mulder struggled and gasped as Krycek's hips thrust
up against him, rubbing their erections together almost painfully.
Krycek held him flush against his body now and Mulder tried to wrest his
arms free even as his own hips were grinding into Krycek's of their own volition.
"No..." Mulder groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth.
"God I can't do this..."
"Shut...up...Mulder." Krycek gasped out between thrusts, his mouth
against Mulder's neck. Mulder felt a hot tongue stroke hard against
the place his neck met his shoulder, then he jerked at the flash of heat
and pleasure as he felt Krycek bite down and thrust up hard at the same time.
Mulder found his own face buried in Krycek's sweaty neck and his mouth opened
against the hot flesh as his cock stroked again and again along Krycek's.
Before he realized what he was doing, he was tasting the salt of the other
man's skin, sucking and licking and moaning against it, hearing and feeling
Krycek's growling response against his own flesh.
"Uhnn...God..." Mulder sobbed into Krycek's shoulder. "Why do you do this?"
His voice sounded desperate, even to his own ears.
"Can't help it," Krycek gasped against him, swiveling his hips now and pulling
Mulder down more firmly against him, grasping Mulder's ass, hard. "Neeeed...youuu..."
The sincerity in that exclamation made Mulder dizzy, and he pressed hard
into the undulating body beneath him, sinking his own teeth into Krycek's
straining shoulder.
"This is...wrong," he whispered against the hot flesh as he licked hard,
soothing the hurt he'd inflicted, only to bite once again with the next thrust.
His ears sang with pounding blood, Tequila, and the sweaty slap of flesh
against flesh. He jerked his hips into Krycek with increased rhythym,
moaning against his skin.
"No 'sright..." Krycek breathed in his ear, sliding his fingers roughly between
Mulder's ass cheeks and pressing in against the tight opening. It was
more than Mulder could take.
"FuuuhhhhhKrychehhh...." Mulder opened his mouth in an incoherent cry as
he felt his cock begin to spasm, and he ground himself against Krycek as
he spurted all over him again and again and again.
"Alex....say Alex...." gasped the other man still sliding firmly against
his now too-sensitive groin.
In a voice little more than a sigh against the straining, sweaty shoulder
under him, he breathed it once, "Alex." The body under his bucked up
hard and he heard a sob that could have been 'fuck' or could have been 'Fox'
as he felt the hot throbs of Krycek's orgasm against his own spent flesh
and the steamy, sticky evidence of their coupling was blended on both their
bellies.
As he came back to himself, he raised his head up off Krycek's shoulder and
was surprised to see the other man's face turned to the side, eyes closed,
in a grimace which did, this time, look like pain.
Concerned but not willing to go so far as to ask what was wrong, he lifted
himself off, trying to gather enough strength to get up. Strong arms,
one warm, one cold, held him fast.
"Krycek...let me go." Mulder's voice was low but not menacing. Krycek
said nothing, face still turned away. His grip didn't loosen.
"Alex." Mulder saw the closed eyes squeeze tighter, but his arms loosed,
allowing Mulder to slide to the side. Mulder grimaced as his softening
organ slid through the splotch he and Krycek had made together. He
rolled onto his back and lay there, staring up at the ceiling, listening
to the both of them breathe.
"What are we doing?" Mulder winced inwardly at the use of the word
'we,' since Krycek had been the instigator and hell, the attacker, in both
of their encounters. But he had to admit he'd taken his own pleasure
both times as well. Quite a lot of it in fact. And as he turned
it over in his mind, he realized that Krycek hadn't even gotten off the first
time. He'd simply pleasured Mulder and gone.
Saying something about a next time.
Mulder sighed and realized the CD was still on autoplay, singing away in
that perky, nasal alto. Krycek was still silent, except for deep breathing,
now steady.
"I have to take a piss," Mulder murmured, raising himself up off the floor
with a groan and the sound of knees cracking. He looked back at the man on
the floor, who didn't give Mulder any indication that he'd heard him.
His eyes were still closed, but he was turned away from Mulder, turned partway
on his side now. His hand was on his stomach, barely stroking through the
stickiness there. Mulder frowned, not sure what to make of this weird
post-coital behavior, and walked to the bathroom.
He did his business, washed his stomach, groin and thighs, splashed cold
water on his face, put on a clean pair of underwear and prepared to go figure
out this weirdness with Krycek once and for all.
But when he padded into the living room, feeling decidedly more calm and
lucid, he found it empty. He looked down at the spot on the floor where
he'd just had sex with Alex Krycek, but there was nothing, not even a smudge
in the varnish, to suggest that anything unusual had happened here tonight.
He walked over to the couch and sank slowly into the leather with a sigh.
As he lowered his head into his hands, he heard the Barenaked Ladies begin
to sing.
I’ve informed you to leave Cause I can’t afford to lose more sleep I get
ill and I get tired So I’ll try to rest if you’ll stand guard.
Do do do do do do do do whoa Do do do do do do do
I’ve informed you to leave Cause’ I can’t stand to hear you breathe I chew
up and I choke down Scraps you choose to leave around
Do do do do do do do do whoa Do do do do do
Apparitions still won’t leave me alone It’s as if you’ve never left How am
I supposed to remember you When you won’t let me forget?
I’ve informed you to leave Cause I can’t afford to lose more sleep There’s
your shoes, and there’s the door Please don’t come here anymore.
Title: Leave (sequel to Too Little Too Late)