Taking Care Of It
Website: http://themkshrine.angelfire.com
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Pairing: M/K
Keywords: pouting, trees, ball gags
Archive: Yes, to any list it's posted to. All others just ask.
Summary: See keywords. Heh.
Date of First Posting: 10/23/03
Disclaimer: Go ahead and garnish my wages, Chris, they’re mine. Double heh!
“Huh?”
“Shh.”
“Wha?”
“Mulder, shh.” Silence, then, “For Christ’s sake, I can hear you pouting.”
“Well, what is it?” he answered petulantly.
“I heard something.”
“You could have just said so,” Mulder groused in a decidedly pouty murmur.
“Shh. There it is again. Where’s my arm?”
“Why are you asking me?”
An impatient snort. “Because you always move it.”
“Do not.”
“Why isn’t it leaned against the dresser, then?”
“You can see over there? Ow!” Mulder whined when his lover’s fingers found his bottom and pinched rather hard. “I trip over it when I come to bed,” he exclaimed, rubbing at his smarting flesh. “I…”
“Nevermind, there it is again.”
“What…that?” Mulder asked. “That screek, screek, screek noise?”
“Yeah,” Alex replied softly, completely still next to him.
“Well, jeez, go back to sleep, it’s just that tree.” With that, Mulder turned over, presenting his backside and settling once more under the covers.
“Tree? Which one? That fir?” Alex asked, face turned in the direction of Mulder’s blue-blanketed back.
Mulder yawned around the word. “Yeah.”
“Didn’t those landlords say they’d trim it before we moved in?”
Mulder sighed, opening his eyes to fix on the stoic red lights on the clock radio which, regrettably, read 4:42. He’d gag the other man if he had the strength to drag himself over to their toy box on the other side of the room. “Nnnn,” he grunted, all-purposely.
“Well, didn’t they? What the fuck is taking so long? I mean…”
As his partner went on, Mulder envisioned the nice, fat, black rubber ball gag. It was generally considered Mulder’s, both because Alex was a natural top and because Mulder was the one who, when on the verge of blissful oblivion, would begin blabbering about Alex’s status among the Greek gods, exploring his creativity with profanity, and just making an aural nuisance of himself such that the cops had been called by their stodgy neighbors once and Alex had had to deal with them clothed only in his butchy, black harness and a bathrobe that wouldn’t seem to keep closed.
Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and waited for Alex to exhaust his indignation against the evil landlords and just go back to sleep.
“Well?” Alex finished.
Mulder spoke with half his face out of commision in his fluffy pillow. “Is that a rhetorical question? Ow!” He rolled over to protect his once-again-molested derriere. “They’lll get around to it. Brice and Stephanie just had twins. Give ‘em a break, Krycek.” Maybe the whole last name thing would puncture that head of steam he was building up against the sugary sweet couple that brought them mini-muffin baskets every time they visited to collect the rent. Only Alex could demonize those two. They were a walking J.C. Penney ad.
Alex’s answer was a throaty mutter that sounded a little like a threat of bodily harm involving a corkscrew, but Mulder wasn’t entirely sure. He rolled his eyes. As if he’d ever. Alex was as tame and cuddly as a big, slobbery puppy now, way past his outlaw, triple agent prime. Hell, in his spare time he mowed the lawn at the old folks home, for Christ’s sake. And more than once, Mulder had caught his big, scary, scowling lover picking and arranging wildflowers for some of his favorite residents. But he still liked to talk bad. And sometimes his former self bled through into their lives, as the bullet holes in the oft-times maligned and faulty shower rod could testify to.
And Mulder’s ass. It stood witness to the way in which Alex could transform at the drop of a hat…or Mulder’s pants. Mulder could watch the cold determination of Krycek mix with the hot, searing lust of his lover in Alex’s eyes. And when that man would walk, no stalk, over to him in the shadowed quiet of their bedroom and make his demand… Well, Mulder had no doubt who it was that would be in his bed, in his body that night, and it wasn’t the man who’d composed his own marriage vows and bought Mulder a three-foot-tall teddy bear for Valentine’s. It was someone else. Someone dark and full of secret dangers. Someone quiet and deadly and strong, who could bring him to his knees with a look and…
“What time do they open?”
Mulder nearly jumped out of his skin at the rumbled question too close to his ear. He blushed in the dark and swallowed thickly. “Uh…who?”
Alex sighed. “God, Fox, nevermind, go back to sleep.” Then, softly, “I’ll take care of it.”
The words flitted through Mulder’s brain a couple of times like wayward sparrows, but he was soon lost in a fantasy where Alex was a space commander who’d taken him hostage on his rocket ship and was going to have him day and night until Mulder caved and took him to his leader. But even that didn’t last as Mulder found himself drifting quickly into the cottony blackness of sleep, where his dreams were infinitely weirder and less satisfying.
………..
Mulder sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide, breath held. The house was still shaking. It wasn’t his dream. He smelled smoke.
“What the fuck?! ALEX!”
He scrambled out of bed, naked, and swiped up the first article of clothing that caught his eye. Unfortunately it was Alex’s boxers which would be too big on him, but seeing as how they might be under attack by B-1 bombers or angry aliens, he didn’t really feel he had time to worry about such things.
He tried to put them on while still running out into the hall and ended up falling spectacularly on his side, hands still gripping the white cotton.
“Ooof!” he grunted as the air was forced out of his lungs by the wall and floor. To add injury to injury the framed picture of him and Alex on their honeymoon in the Bahamas fell and beaned him on the back of the head. “Awfuck,” he cursed, putting the 8X10 of their entwined, tanned bodies and smiling faces aside with a growl.
Mulder got to his feet, pulled the loose shorts up over his now-white ass and barreled out into the living room.
“Alex?!”
Nothing.
Holding the falling underwear up with one hand, he ran into the kitchen, the bathroom, the extra bedroom. Nothing, nothing, nothing. No Alex. No fire. No aliens.
But he still smelled smoke, and he followed his nose outside, flinging open the front door and careening around the corner to find…
“Holy SHIT!”
Alex stood there with his hands on his hips watching what remained of their fir tree going up in flames.
“Alex! Jesus!” Mulder sputtered.
Alex didn’t answer, picking up the fire extinguisher from the ground and aiming it at the small inferno.
“Watch out, baby,” was all he got in warning as Alex fired the thing off and Mulder stumbled backward, forgetting his underwear situation momentarily and letting them go to fall around his ankles, exposing himself to the neighborhood, most of whom were also gathered on the surrounding sidewalks, before he got a grip on his motor functions and hauled them back up with a curse.
Alex spared him an interested glance, still spraying noxious white clouds, then turned his attention back to what was now a charred stump, releasing his trigger finger with a sigh and putting the extinguisher down, crossing his arms.
“Well?” he asked.
“Wh-“ Mulder stuttered. “Wh- What the fuck are you doing?!”
“What does it look like?” Alex asked, frowning at him.
“You…you…you blew up a TREE!”
“Yeah,” Alex anwered plainly, clearly not understanding Mulder’s not understanding.
“Alex…you….” He clutched the shorts to his belly and gestured to the stump.
“What did you think I meant when I said I was going to take care of it?” Alex asked when Mulder couldn’t continue.
Now Mulder got his voice. “Uh, hedge clippers, Alex?! Ever heard of ‘em? Jesus Christ!”
Alex wrinkled his nose in distaste.
Mulder growled in frustration, throwing up his hands and consequently losing his shorts again. He hastily bent down to retrieve them, and looked back at Alex, frowning, to catch his raised eyebrow and a slow, small, crooked smile.
Mulder rolled his eyes and turned to stalk back into the house for more clothes.
He heard Alex call after him, “Love you!”
He raised his hand, middle finger extended, as he continued back up the front porch to the sounds of Alex’s chuckles behind him.
……….
“You asleep?”
“Mmm,” Alex answered him.
Mulder turned his head on his pillow. “Do you think they believed you?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not?” was his answer.
Mulder blinked at his shadowed profile. The moon’s brilliance caught in Alex’s lashes becomingly.
“You’re incorrigible,” Mulder announced softly. He watched a brow rise, but Alex’s eyes didn’t open. “I can’t believe we’re not in jail right now.”
Alex snorted softly. “They’d’ve just given me a fine,” he said calmly.
Mulder shook his head and reached out to trace the silky skin covering his lover’s hard chest. Then he pinched a nipple. Hard.
Alex gasped and turned his head, eyes finally opening.
“You’re bad,” Mulder told him, unable not to smile a little as he felt his cock stir to life looking into those eyes.
Alex rolled over onto him and Mulder looked up into the sharp angles of his face, contrasting with the ever-adorable nose, and the pink, pink lips…always so soft over his own.
“Do you forgive me?” Alex asked in a deep rumble.
Mulder tilted his head, slid his hand down to cup the other man’s butt. “We’ll see,” he said coyly.
Alex swooped down for a kiss, opening Mulder’s mouth easily. They kissed for a long time and Mulder forgot about anything having to do with burning stumps, inquiring fire marshalls, or forgiveness. He forgot to breathe. He felt Alex’s erection slide against his own and moaned loudly into his lover’s mouth.
Yeah. He could blow up every goddamned tree in the yard. Fuck it. Fuck Brice and Stephanie. Fuck city ordinances. Fuck that he’d flashed his straight-laced neighbors. Fuck, fuck…oh yeah and fuck Alex.
“Gonna fuck you,” his lover growled against his lips.
Yeah.
Or that.
End
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