Title:  A Gentleman's Word
Author:  Loren Q 
Email:  loren.q@att.net
Fandom:  X-Files
Pairing:  M/K 
Rating:  NC-17 for male/male sex.
Status:  New, complete.
Archive:  Basement, RatB, Slashville, CKoS, all others please ask.
Spoilers:  Terma, Red and the Black, probably more. 
Summary:  Sometime between Red and the Black and Fight the Future, Krycek and 
Mulder are thrown together on a mission.
Warning:  Not BDSM but heavy sex scenes. Not for the faint of heart. My Krycek is 
not a nice man, and I want him that way.
Beta Thanks:  Louise Wu, Zoe T, Ness, Lyrical Soul, Janet and Susan
Special thanks to Sonja Blue for a wonderfully wicked idea.
Disclaimer:  Dana Scully, Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek belong to Chris Carter and 
1013 Productions. No infringement of rights is intended.


Mulder's Apartment
Friday Night, 7:00 P.M.

"... ooohh baby. Yeah. Harder, harder--" My video night is interrupted by the 
phone.

"Mulder." 

"Mr. Mulder, do you know who this is?"

Who could mistake that clipped, high brow voice?

"Yes," I respond cautiously.

"We met before. I'd like to meet there again. Tonight, 2 A.M. I have information 
you may find... useful." 

"You didn't have much last time. Why should I make the trip? Why should I believe 
you?"

"You have my word as a gentleman."

For some reason that rings true. He comes across as a man who honors his word. 
Even if that word is a promise to annihilate the human race. 

"I'll be there."


***
New York City
Central Park, 
Lighted Walkway off 79th, Near the Reservoir.
Saturday Morning, 2:00 A.M.

It's cold. I blow warm air into my hands. Damn, I never remember gloves.

"Mr. Mulder."

I turn at the sound of his voice. As usual, he's well appointed. Black overcoat 
and a tasteful pale gray scarf. The light from the street lamp reflects off his 
impeccably shined shoes. He, of course, is wearing gloves. 

"What do you have for me?"

"The being you freed at Weikamp is the leader of an alien resistance. He and his 
compatriots are combating the colonization of this planet."

He holds up a large manila envelope. "In here you will find partial data on one 
colonization staging site. You will work with my... adjunct who has the key 
points missing from these documents. The two of you will infiltrate the site and 
gather information, dates, places and the like. My adjunct will give this 
information to the resistance. You may do what you wish with the knowledge."

"Why only partial data?"

"I need your full cooperation. This will ensure your working relationship with my 
man."

"How do I know this isn't a set-up?"

"You don't, Mr. Mulder. But it is your best, and possibly only, chance to get the 
truth you so badly desire."

"If you have these plans, why do you need me?"

"Mr. Mulder, while our motives differ, our goal is the same. And every worthy 
goal needs a zealot."

He hands me the envelope. "Godspeed, Mr. Mulder."

*** 
Alexandria, Virginia
Mulder's Apartment
Saturday, 10:30 A.M.

I open my door and walk in. 

There's a slip of paper on the floor. Oh no, not again. I turn around quickly, 
gun drawn. No one's behind me. I survey my surroundings before I bend to pick up 
the note.

Familiar handwriting that reads:
"I understand you've spoken with my sponsor.
I'm looking forward to working together again."

From the kitchen I hear, "Tovarich."

I wheel around, startled, almost dropping my gun. 

"You never could hold on to those things."

It's Alex Fucking Krycek.

"How the hell did you get in here?" 

A shrug. "Same way I usually do."

I realize I'm rubbing my cheek. // I wouldn't have thought his lips would have 
been so soft. // I move into a firing stance. 

A surprised smile crosses his face as he raises his hands. "I'm unarmed. No pun 
intended."

I see that his left hand is stiff, plastic looking. It has a slight shine in the 
ambient light. "Tunguska?"

"Yeah. They thought they were doing me a favor."

I shiver remembering how close I came to the same fate.

Using my gun, I motion him to the couch. He crosses the room and sits down.

"So now you work for the Brit? What happened to your pals in Russia?"

"Things change. I understand you've become a believer again."

"Yeah, well, when evidence presents itself..."

"You sound like Scully."

I bristle. How dare he say her name. "I take that as a compliment."

"That's how I meant it." He's just sitting there, hands on his knees, looking at 
me, placid as Buddha.

"Let's get one thing straight, Krycek. I don't want to work with you. I'd much 
rather pull the trigger and get your sorry ass out of my life."

"Mulder, we're not getting married here. We have this one critical assignment 
then we're quits. If it makes you feel any better, working with you ain't no bed 
of roses either."

"And I'm calling the shots. Got that?"

He gives me a mock salute. "Yessir."

***
Between our two document sets, we have the location of the site and schematics on 
the compound. It's a heavily guarded facility close to the Livermore Laboratories 
in California. Used to be government, but now owned by the Purity Corporation.

Krycek's pouring over the schematics, making little pencil notes on the drawings. 
His brows knit together in focused concentration. How does he keep that earnest 
look with all the sins on his soul?

I'm suddenly aware that I don't want to beat the shit out of him. The absence of 
that is startling, as is the realization that I keep touching my cheek in the 
spot where he kissed me.

"What does 'tovarich' mean?"

"Loosely translated, 'Friend.'" He looks up at me, his face softened by a shy 
smile. Shy? From Krycek? Hard to believe. 

"You sure it's not 'dickhead' or anything like that?"

"No, that's 'dolboyeb,' and I've called you that, too."

Our banter is almost friendly. I'm not sure I like that. I put a stop to the fun 
with, "How do you say 'one armed rat bastard?'"

His eyes darken for a moment. // Ha! Gotcha! // He shakes his head and goes back 
to the schematics.

*** 
Saturday, 3:00 P.M.

Krycek produces an array of aliases, including credit cards. // Dwayne Dibley? 
What kind of twisted fuck would *choose* Dwayne Dibley as an alias? //

He makes flight and car rental arrangements, while I try to find accommodations.

There's some seminar hosted at the labs and the only place I can find is the 
Livermore Valley Travl Inn // too cheap to buy a vowel. // 

And even there, only one room is available.


*** 
Saturday, 11:30 P.M.

"Mulder, you're going to have to call your geek friends. I need a C3-948 digital 
switch with giga-pixel resolution."

"You're kidding! I just picked one up at Radio Shack."

He looks at me, confused. I've spent the day baiting him, then being nice. 
Ignoring him and then joking with him. It's a good way to keep him off-balance.

"I thought you got the C*2*-948," he says guardedly.

"Okay, enough. I'll call."

***

"Gunmen. Is this a secured line?" It's so fun to talk to someone more paranoid 
than I.

"Yeah, yeah. It's me Mulder. You guys have a C3-948 digital switch with giga-
pixel resolution I can borrow for a few days?"

Langly whistles, then, "That's cherry. We have one, but why do you need it? You 
gonna do some high level black ops type thing?" 

"Well, you know how it is, I'd tell you... but then I'd have to kill you." 

***

So far, so good. Mulder's resident geeks can supply the switch. I have everything 
else.

He's baffling himself with this good cop/bad cop routine. It's so transparent, 
but it *is* keeping him off-balance.

As long as I can maintain the confused-but-wounded looks, things will play out 
the way I want.

***
Sunday 1:00 A.M.

Krycek and I go over the preliminary plans one last time. He's found a weakness 
we can exploit but we can't go much further without a visual reconnaissance. 

Our shot into the compound is an underground tunnel that connects a basement room 
in the facility to a bunker half a mile away. The facility side of the tunnel is 
walled off. But in some cost saving effort, the door was left there, just 
drywalled over.

The only security we can find so far is a single surveillance camera at the 
bunker entrance.

I'm keeping up the nice guy/insulting asshole act. I'm enjoying his confusion; 
it's almost as much fun as beating him up.

I'll try to get a couple of hours sleep, and then it's time to head west.

***
National Airport
Sunday, 6:00 A.M.

I remember to call Scully just as our boarding call is sounded.

I dial her cell phone. "Hey, Scully, I'm at the airport, leaving for the west 
coast." She starts in but I cut her off. "Look, I have to board now. Cover for 
me, 'kay?" and hang up. I'll explain this to her later. She'll understand // 
won't like it, but she never does. //

***
In Flight

I'm dead tired. I don't remember when I slept last but I can't seem to fall 
asleep. 

I've reviewed and re-reviewed our plans. Woke Krycek up a few times, once just to 
be mean. I don't know how he can nod off like that. I thought assassins slept 
with one eye open. 

Krycek's sleeping like a baby.

He looks about twelve. You wouldn't guess that this sleeping angel is the waking 
devil incarnate.

*** 
Livermore Valley Travl Inn, room 302
Sunday, 12:30 P.M.

This place is as seedy as I thought it would be. Mirrored tile hallways that went 
out in the 70's, cheap brown and tan shag carpeting... 

Our room art is early velvet. But at least it doesn't clash with the floral motif 
bedspreads. 

I toss my bag on the far bed, and hear the springs squeak loudly.

Krycek pulls the spread off of his bed. "You know, even four-star hotels only 
wash the spreads once a month."

"Thank you. *That* was a factoid I could have done without."

"Hey, just being nice. It's your stuff," he says as he opens his bag and takes a 
shaving kit to the bathroom.

I'm ready to drop. I can't stop yawning. 

"Krycek," I yell toward the bathroom, "I'm gonna try and get some sleep. So keep 
it quiet."

"Yes, massa." 

Smart-ass.

*** 
I finish unpacking while Mulder sleeps. I'm good at keeping quiet. In my line of 
work, it's a requirement.

I don't really need to keep quiet. I doped Mulder with enough phenobarb to keep 
him out for a few hours.

He looks good lying there. I prefer some fur on my men, but I can make 
exceptions. 

The sheet's below his waist, so I get just a peek at the top of his // boxers? Or 
is he a briefs man? // Ahh, pulling away the sheet, a knit boxers man.

He's semi-erect, his fingers just inches away from his dick. My own swells in 
response. 

I move Mulder's hand directly onto his dick and squeeze. His breathing changes, 
and his hand starts moving of its own accord. 

I doubt he'll be able to get off with the phenobarb in his system but it's sure 
fun to watch.

I pull out my now-fully-hard dick and start jacking off.

His movements are slow and sluggish. His face starts displaying signs of 
frustration. His brows knit together, his lips press into a line. 

He whimpers, and I come on his chest. 

After I've caught my breath, I clean my cum off his body. I did contemplate 
leaving it there, just to see what Mulder would do, but time's short and we have 
a mission at hand.

*** 
Sunday, 8:00 P.M.

I wake up, not sure where I am. Oh, the forest scene rendered in tempera on 
velvet brings me back to the present.

I hear the shower turn off as I sit up. I throw off the sheet and swing my legs 
out of bed. I feel rested. 

Krycek walks out of the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. 
He's startled when he sees me.

I see his stump up close. For the first time, I almost feel compassion for him. I 
look into his face. He's embarrassed, but he puffs out his chest defiantly. 

I push past him into the bathroom mumbling, "My turn for the shower."

I let the warm water wash over me for a few minutes then start soaping up. My 
mind keeps flipping between Krycek's stump and his muscular hairless chest.

What would it be like to touch that chest, feel it against me? I bring my hand up 
to my cheek and feel his lips --

Must. Stop. This. Now.

But my dick is so hard it aches. I jack off, thinking of him, and hating myself 
for it.

*** 
Sunday, 10:30 P.M.

"Mulder, we'll park here." He points to a spot on a map half a mile away from the 
bunker. "There's a stand of eucalyptus that'll serve as cover for the car." He 
pauses, then, "We'll need to time this carefully. There's a security patrol that 
drives past the stand and the bunker. At least in the darkness, we'll be harder 
to spot."

Krycek went out for a look-see while I was asleep. Part of me's pissed, but I 
understand that time is of the essence here. The sooner this is over the sooner I 
get rid of this... whatever he is.

He draws an arc on the map. "I don't know the viewing range of the camera, but 
the sweep looks to be 180 degrees. Takes a full minute to cycle from one side to 
the other. Even if it has a wide angle lens, I should be able come in from 
behind." 

"What's this 'I' shit? What am I supposed to do while you're out being James 
Bond?"

He points to a spot on the map. "You're watching for the security patrol. From 
here, you can see headlights and have enough time to warn me. You need to time 
how often it passes."

"Didn't you check that on your little reconnoiter?" God, I sound snotty.

Krycek closes his eyes for a moment. "Look, I'm sorry you're so bent about my 
going out there. I *did* try to wake you."

"Yeah. Right. Forget it."

"Mulder, all we're doing tonight is setting up the tape feed. With that camera 
operating, we can't do squat. Once we've got the camera looped and the timing 
down, you'll get to do something. I promise."

"Yeah, sure. Let's get ready."

*** 

It's time to head out to the bunker. Krycek's wearing form fitting black spandex. 
It leaves nothing to the imagination. I could probably see the veins in his dick 
if I tried. // Yup, there they are. //

He puts loose sweats over -- less conspicuous on the way to the car.

I've got my black-on-black, too--maybe not as sexy... uhh, professional, but 
who's gonna notice in the dark?

He tries on a hood. It's snug, well-made. Mesh over the ears and the only visible 
openings are the eyeholes. His eyes look like backlit emeralds against the black.

Krycek tosses me another hood, then removes his.

"We'll put them on when we get there."

***
Monday, 2:30 A.M.

We arrive back at the hotel. 

As we enter our room, I throw my mask on the dresser, barely missing Krycek as he 
heads to the sink in front of the bathroom. He looks at me and shakes his head 
while he washes his hands.

Krycek attached the tape drive to copy a direct feed from the camera. // How did 
he do that one-handed? // I timed the security patrol. They pass every 30 minutes 
like clockwork.

The fact that everything went according to his plan seems to bother me more than 
a screw-up would have. // 'Cause it's his plan, 'cause it's a good plan, 'cause 
he did it better than you. //

I push past him into the bathroom. 

"Hey, watch it."

"Watch this, you immoral asswipe." I mutter under my breath. 

He grabs my arm and wheels me around. His eyes are blazing. "What the hell is up 
with you? Acting like this could get us killed."

I step toward him. We're toe to toe; I can feel the heat coming off of him. My 
fists clench with the desire to connect with his // firm, well muscled // body. 
I'm so close I can smell him: musky, spicy.

"Look, Krycek, just because I'm forced to work with you doesn't mean I have to 
like it. You're a --"

"You don't have to like this. I don't like this. But we don't have a choice." He 
steps back and turns away from me. "I don't have a choice," he says in a voice 
above a whisper.

What does he mean by that?

I snort derisively and go into the bathroom.


*** 
Monday, 4:00 A.M.

I keep tossing and turning, in that half awake, half asleep state. I hate that.

My mind wanders. I see Krycek in black spandex. No, think about... crop circles. 
I wonder how he keeps in shape with only one... NO. Okay, expense reports; I owe 
about 6 months worth. Where did he get the money to buy...? Stop this. Shit, I 
forgot to call Scully. 

My brain morphs Scully's face into Krycek's. The young, earnest Krycek. The bad 
suits and too much gel Krycek. The Krycek who kept trying *not* to look at my red 
Speedos. The Krycek I wanted to keep looking at my red Speedos.

I shake my head hard, attempting to rid myself these images. I try again to fall 
asleep.

I dream of him backed up against phones, blood trickling out of his nose. Feeling 
his body pressed against me, so close I feel his breath, hot on my lips.

My hand on my erection wakes me.

*** 

Mulder's restlessness is annoying. The only good part is when I catch what he's 
muttering. I'll have to keep wearing the spandex.

He's going to the bathroom. Maybe that'll stop the tossing and turning. 

I turn on my back, and settle in when I hear a barely audible moan. 

Rising slowly, I make my way to the bathroom. I listen, my ear close to the door.

I hear a rhythmic rubbing sound. It stops. I hear Mulder spit, then, "Uhhhh," 
followed by a loud swallow.

The rubbing's faster. "Come on, come on." Then, so low I almost miss it, he 
hisses my name.

I make my way back to my bed and feign sleep.

*** 

"Afternoon, Mulder."

"Whaa?" I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. The clock shows it's a 
little after one.

"It's about damned time. I thought I'd have to get the Stanford Marching Band 
here to wake you up."

"Glurf." I make my way to the bathroom.

"No way I was going to do anything without you. Not after you got so pissy about 
it yesterday."

"Wasn't pissy. Was furious." And I close the door.

*** 

Standing under the shower, letting the water wake me up, I think about Krycek. I 
think about fate continually throwing him my way. I wonder what I did to deserve 
this.

I'm positive he killed my father. // Hate him, or thank him? // 

I think he was involved in Scully's abduction. // Now *that* I could despise him 
for. //

He has no moral center and sells himself to the highest bidder. He gave me the 
Wiekamp information // sealed with a kiss. //

And just as rampant as these thoughts are, so is my dick.

First Phoebe, now him. Why won't my dick listen to my brain...?

***
Monday, 8:00 P.M. 

Krycek tosses me a black cloth case. It's about three inches deep and looks like 
a briefcase with backpack straps.

"What's this for?" I ask as I open it up. 

He points to the bed. There are several large tubes, the digital switch, some 
tongue depressors, two wire brushes and what looks like two different colored 
lumps of modeling clay. 

"I couldn't tell for sure, but I think the bunker doors are rusted shut. The goop 
in the tubes is a petroleum distillate. It's, uh, sort of a gel-like WD-40 on 
steroids."

"What's this?" I ask, holding up the modeling clay. 

"That's an acid compound." 

I drop the clay suddenly.

"Don't worry, they're inert until put together. That's what we'll use to open the 
bunker."

"Open the bunker?"

"Did you think I was going to ring the doorbell?"

He motions me over to the small table in the room. He's drawn a blow-up of the 
bunker doors, camera and road. I sit next to him as he starts going over the plan 
for tonight.

"I come in behind the camera, just like last night. I need you to stay back until 
I switch over the camera. Then I need you here." I lean toward the spot he's 
pointing to. I feel his breath on my cheek. I hear him lick his lips. I turn my 
head slightly. "Here?" 

He pulls back just a bit and looks into my eyes. "Yeah." I hear the slightest 
tremor in his voice.

*** 
At the Bunker
Monday, 11:55 P.M. 

Krycek is still applying the goop on his side of the bunker door when I finish my 
side. 

I'm about to start on the hasp when Krycek whispers, "Time."

We turn off our flashlights and flatten down waiting for the security patrol to 
drive by. 

Instead of the jeep passing, I hear its tires on the gravel berm. It comes to a 
stop and the door opens.

"Frank, I told you not to drink so damn much coffee."

"Hang tight. It'll just take a minute."

Krycek whispers, "Roll away from the bunker." I start, but my flashlight hits the 
bunker door. The sound of metal on metal seems to crash in the night.

"What the hell was that?!" A high beam light is triggered. I turn my face away 
from it.

Krycek scrapes his prosthetic hand on the bunker door then starts rolling away, 
fast. The light jumps over me to that side of the bunker and begins a sweep. It 
catches just a trace of him as he flips into a trench. A second later, I hear a 
realistic howl.

"Damn coyote. Made me piss my boots."

The jeep door slams and the patrol leaves.

*** 
Livermore Valley Travl Inn, room 302
Tuesday, 1:30 A.M.

I'm still adrenaline-loaded when we get back to our room. I've been babbling on 
about who knows what. Krycek's been uncharacteristically quiet, except for 
telling me to pipe down when we got to the hotel.

"So that acid clay stuff will have eaten though by tomorrow night and we'll be 
able --"

Krycek pulls off the spandex shirt. That stops me short. Not his bare chest // 
smooth and muscular // but the cuts and bruises covering it.

Several of the cuts are still oozing blood and there's a particularly bad bruise 
on what's left of his upper left arm. 

He unstraps the prosthetic and rubs that shoulder. "I landed on it rolling into 
the trench," he says in answer to my unspoken question.

He steps out of his shoes and peels off the pants. There are bloodstains at his 
hips and more cuts and scratches along his thighs.

"Uhh, I guess there were a lot of rocks out there." 

"Yeah." He steps into the bathroom. I hear the shower start and a quick intake of 
breath. Those cuts must sting. That's the first sign he's made that he's hurt.

If he hadn't been so quick, we would be dead. I don't know if I should be 
grateful to him. Or hate that I feel obligated. 

I pick up his shirt and pants; they're covered with little rents in the fabric. 
They smell like him.

Before I can stop myself, I bring his clothes up to my face and breathe deeply. 
// I'm gonna hate myself for this. //

***
Tuesday, 2:00 A.M.

"Uhh, Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you, I mean, um, could you put this stuff on my back? I can't reach some 
of the cuts."

He looks embarrassed as he holds out a tube of antiseptic ointment. 

I take the tube and motion him to turn around.

"There's still dirt in some of these. Let's get you back in the shower."

"Mulder, I washed my back the best I can. I wouldn't need you if--"

"I'll wash your back." He wheels around, as dumbfounded as I am by that 
statement.

I gulp, "I mean, it's no problem. We need to, uh, make sure the cuts are, you 
know, clean. I'll just stand outside... "

I'm standing outside of the open shower door, dabbing at the wounds with a soapy 
washcloth. He jumps a little at the sting but makes no sound.

His ass tightens when he jumps and I find myself washing cuts that are already 
clean.

"You done yet?" His voice startles me. I'm finished, but I need to stall. I need 
time for my hard-on to go down // budget reports, expense reports, the flukeman, 
vampires--no, strike that. //

"Yeah, I think that's the last one." 

Krycek doesn't move. "Umm, Mulder. Could you leave now?"

"Oh yeah, Sure." I back out of the bathroom. As I turn, I catch a glimpse of 
Krycek. He's hard too!

Oh shit, now what am I gonna do?

***

Mulder's nervously tapping his hands and feet as I come out of the bathroom. Time 
to act shy. 

I don't look at him as I hand him the ointment again.

"Deja vu?" His voice cracks and he looks mortified. // Oh god, it's junior high 
again. //

My turn. I smile sheepishly. "Um. Well. Thanks for washing the cuts. Infection 
isn't in the plan."

"No, no, not in the plan. Well, umm. Let me wash my hands and I'll put this stuff 
on you."

As he moves to the sink, I sit on his bed. I can see him in the mirror as we both 
pretend nothing's happening. I keep my right hand in my lap, acting as though I'm 
trying to hide my erection. That'll keep him looking.

***

I try not to look at his reflection as I wash my hands.

His right hand is tense, rigid in his lap. God, I hope my hard on isn't as 
obvious.

"Uh, Krycek, why don't you lie on your stomach? It'll be easier to do your back 
that way.

"Yeah, okay." He moves carefully in compliance.

I move to the side of the bed. He's lying there, his face turned away from me. 
His right arm out and over his head. 

Aside from the new cuts, scrapes and bruises, his back is smooth and well 
developed. 

His shoulders are broad and his back tapers nicely to narrow hips. Even under the 
towel I can see how rounded his ass is.

He turns his head to me. "Mulder, are you just going to stand there?"

"Sorry, I was..." I shut up for my own good.

I sit on the bed and start applying the ointment on his cuts. It must sting. He 
tenses a little, causing his muscles to bunch.

"Hey, I didn't say it, but I really appreciate the chance you took out there," I 
tell him as I finish up.

"Are you thanking me?"

"No, just telling you that you did a fine job."

We're both on edge. I can almost hear smart ass remarks forming in his head. // 
Forming in *my* head. //

He rolls onto his right side, elbow propping him up. He's facing me.

His face is open, almost vulnerable. His eyes are soft and deep. A slow smile 
starts.

"Thanks for noticing."

"Are you going to be all right?" I ask as I stand up.

"Probably be a little sore..." He sits up; looking down, he adds, "and stiff."

I look down. His erection is jutting out under the towel. Mine is pushing against 
my sweats.

"Mulder." 

I look up at him. His expression is an invitation, crossed with awe and fear.

"We can choose to ignore this. It's your call." He stands. Our bodies are so 
close, we're almost touching.

My hormones override my instinct as I lean forward to kiss him. 

His mouth is soft and pliant at first. Then his hand comes up behind my head and 
he takes the kiss from me.

He breaks the kiss by pulling my head back. My neck exposed, he starts covering 
my throat with little licks and bites. I moan and put my hands on his waist, 
pulling him closer. He grinds into me making me gasp with pleasure.

His mouth moves to the side of my neck // how does he know? // sending shivers 
down straight to my cock. He moves his hand down my chest, his fingers lightly 
trailing, sending almost electric shocks though me.

I feel his hand make its way under the elastic of my sweats. I stiffen, knowing 
what's coming next.

He takes my cock in his hand. Thumb rubbing the head, spreading precum. I drop my 
head to his shoulder, making sounds I didn't know existed.

Fingers dancing along the shaft cause my knees to buckle. // God, don't let him 
hold me up by my dick. //

He releases me and I sit heavily on the bed. He pulls the towel away, then puts 
his hand on the side of my face, his thumb on my lips.

I suck his thumb, tasting myself. He lifts my head then removes his hand, leaving 
my mouth open and empty. His eyes bore into me, asking me. I nod my assent.

He stands closer, his cock bobbing in front of me. I take it in my mouth. 

His hand moves to my head and starts kneading my scalp. "Oh. God. Mulder." 

That spurs me to take him all the way down my throat. I've never blown anyone as 
big as him and I gag a little. He pulls away looking concerned. 

"You all right?"

"Yeah, you're just... impressive."

I pull his hips to me again and take him whole.

"Ahhh, your mouth was made for this."

I lave my tongue over the head of his cock, licking up the precum. It's hot and 
salty. He pulls away again.

"Too much," he says catching his breath.

He looks at me. "Take off the sweats."

I'm nude in a heartbeat, my sweats and boxers kicked away. He presses up against 
me, our cocks rubbing against each other like crossed swords. 

He reaches down and holds our two cocks together, then starts jacking both off. I 
can barely stand it when he stops.

"I want to fuck you," he whispers. The words and timbre of his voice make my cock 
jump.

I can't speak, so I nod.

He motions toward the closet. "My bag--condoms and lube." 

I go to fetch the items. // I'll ask him later why he carries this stuff around. 
//

He points to the bed. "On your back, with your butt at the edge," he tells me. 
"Pull your knees up."

He's kneeling in front of my ass. I see him tear open the condom wrapper with his 
teeth, then his hand goes down. 

I can't see what he's doing when I suddenly feel his finger prodding my anus. He 
wiggles it at the opening before slowly pushing it in.

"God, Mulder, you're tight." Just hearing his voice sends current to my dick.

He's slowly opening me up. He adds a second finger and I'm ready to go through 
the roof. I'm at that pleasure/pain barrier when his fingers hit my prostate. I 
think I'm speaking in tongues.

He pulls his fingers slowly out of me. I feel the head of his cock pushing in. 
I'm not sure I can handle him and start babbling again.

He starts massaging my dick as he pushes further into me. I feel my ass relax and 
he slides in.

He's gifted at this. Pulling his dick almost out then either slamming in or 
pushing in slowly. Whatever he's doing is making me nuts.

I feel him squeeze and stroke me in a counter-rhythm to his fucking. 

I'm about to come when he lets go of my cock and squeezes my balls, just to the 
edge of pain.

"Stroke yourself, but don't come yet."

I start jacking myself off. Whenever I speed up, he does that ball squeeze thing 
and I slow down again. He's keeping me right at the edge. 

"God, please, please let me come."

He stops my hand. "Beg for it." 

I'm ready to die for this. "Please. I beg you. Please."

"Now!" 

I come on his command, spurting and crying out. 

He slams into me harder and faster. Throws his head back and I feel him explode 
inside of me.

Now I know why this is called le petit mort.

***

I lie back, spent. Krycek pulls out of me, then reaches over and picks up my 
boxers.

He carefully cleans the semen off my chest and neck.

"Get in bed. I'll be there in a minute," he says.

I fall asleep, never feeling him get in bed.

***
Tuesday, 12:30 P.M.

Mulder's still sleeping, his morning // afternoon // erection prodding me.

I reach down and start lightly stroking him. I don't want to wake him up, I just 
want him to want me. I carefully get out of bed.

Sex happened sooner that I thought it would. Amazing, how powerful that drive is. 
I knew that Mulder hadn't had a sex partner in years, but I didn't really expect 
him to roll over that easily.

I'm in the shower when Mulder pops his head in. He looks abashed.

"Wanna join me?" I ask and playfully splash water at him.

"I think we need to talk about this thing. I, uhh, I don't want you to... I don't 
think..."

Regrets already? Quiet compassion time.

"Mulder, don't think. This can't continue anyway. We'll be done by Friday. If it 
makes it better for you, last night didn't happen or it was just a fluke."

"No, I just... I don't know."

"Let's talk about this when I get out of the shower, okay?"

He leaves, closing the door behind him.

***

Krycek exits the bathroom. His brow is furrowed and his eyes unreadable. He sits 
down on his bed.

"Mulder, I know last night shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry." He looks at me, 
hurt. 

"No, it was my fault. I started it. I don't know why. I just..."

"You don't have to explain. It was just sex. Let's just pretend--"

"I don't want to." Where did that come from? All of a sudden words are pouring 
out of my mouth. "I've never been very good at this. Yes, it was just sex. It's 
not that I want it to stop. I've never had it that good. I want this... It's 
just..."

Krycek walks over to me, puts his finger on my lips and nods his head. "Shhh, I 
understand. For as long as this lasts, for as long as you can handle it." He 
leans down and kisses me softly.

How can he know what I'm trying to say? How can he say it so clearly?    

It's just sex. // Yeah, right. // And I drown in his kiss.

*** 

Krycek's out finding us lunch. // The intrepid hunter stalks the elusive Big Mac. 
//

It's as good a time as any to call Scully. I pick up my cell phone. But what to 
tell her? That I'm on an unsupported mission with a traitor/assassin. But it's 
okay cause he can make my prostate sing.

"Aaahhh," and I throw the phone on the bed. 

Okay, just do this. I pick up the cell and hit her speed dial.

She answers on the second ring. "Scully."

"Hey, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"I'm on the west coast. I got some information from the Brit and need to follow 
up on it."

There's a long pause, then she asks, "Can you trust this information?"

"Dunno, but I have to find out."

I hear her sigh. I can picture her, head down, squeezing the bridge of her nose. 
"When are you coming back?"

"We should be wrapped--"

"We? Mulder, who's there with you?"

Oh, shit. "One of the Brit's thugs. He's just muscle, I'm calling the shots. I 
should be back Friday night, 'kay?" I hate lying to her. // What part's the lie? 
//

"Okay, Mulder. Call me when you can."

"Yeah, bye." I fold the phone.

***
At the Bunker
Tuesday, 10:00 P.M.

Between the goop and the clay, the bunker doors open easily. Krycek goes down the 
steps first. I follow, closing the door above me.

He leads the way slowly. It's pitch black except for the beam of his flashlight. 
We reach the bottom of the stairs and I turn on my light.

The air is dank and dry. I shine my light along the walls. Smooth concrete. The 
floor is packed dirt. 

Based on the climb down, we're about eight feet below the surface. Then I 
remember we're in earthquake country. // Well, *that's* pleasant. //

"What are you looking at?" Krycek whispers.

I shine my light on his chest. His eyes glow almost iridescently. // Carnival 
glass? //

"Nothing. Let's move."

The end of the tunnel opens up to a basement room. We're now in the facility. 

I put my hands on the wall, concrete again. There's a door facing us. 

Krycek takes off his backpack and rummages around. He pulls out a lamp then turns 
off his flashlight. The lamp lets off a warm glow, not as illuminating as a 
flashlight but not as harsh either.

He stands and walks over to me. Handing me another lamp, he says, "Use the lamp. 
We need your hands free."

I adjust the lamp as he moves to the door. He motions me over and hands me a tube 
of the petroleum goop. 

"Do the door hinges," he whispers, so close I feel his lips brush my ear. 

I turn to kiss him but he pulls back. "Not yet. Business first," he says with a 
glint in his eye.

I'm working on the door hinges as he's on his knees working the knob and lock. He 
looks up at me, I nod letting him know I'm finished.

He stands and opens the door, revealing the drywall.

He goes over to the backpack and starts pulling out components, assembling the 
pieces. 

I join him. He points to objects and I hand them to him.

Watching him work is fascinating. His prosthetic arm can be bent at the elbow. 
The fingers can be manually opened and closed. // Like Gumby. // 

I see him angle the arm, put something in the hand then close the fingers around. 
He does it so quickly you would think it's natural. I guess for him, it is.

When he's done he has two items. One that looks like a drill with a tube around 
the bit. The other is a camcorder with a snaking nozzle. It's reminiscent of 
endoscopy equipment. 

He goes over to the drywall and places the drill thing about six inches up from 
the floor. He flips a switch and the quiet is broken.

In a matter of seconds, he turns it off.

"What is that?" I ask.

"It's a drill with a vacuum attachment. It doesn't suck up all the plaster, but 
it helps." 

There's a small hole no more than 5mm in diameter.

Krycek runs a thin tube through the hole, then attaches the other end to the 
vacuum. A quick suck and no more plaster in the hall. Very neat.

He picks up the camcorder and fits the nozzle end in the hole.

"Mulder, tear off some of that tape." 

I do and hand it to him. He secures the nozzle in place.

He turns on the camcorder. The hallway's displayed on the small screen.

"It's a fisheye lens." He says while moving a small control. The camera pans 
across showing a good view of the hall. He keeps fiddling with it until he gets 
the view he wants.

The hallway is pretty bare. There are two doors across the hallway and a lateral 
file on this side.

"This is programmed to 'snap' a shot every two minutes. When we come back in 
tomorrow night, we'll be able to see what kind of traffic comes by here."

We pack up, turn on the flashlights and start back up the tunnel.

About half way to the bunker he stops suddenly, I bump up against him. 

"What?" I whisper.

He looks at me, a feral smile in place. Then turns off his light.

"Krycek? What the hell?" I feel his hand on my wrist. 

"Turn it off." He says, his voice low and gravely // heavenly. //

It's so black there's no way my eyes could ever become accustomed.

I can't see anything. But I feel him near me. I hear him breathing.

He pushes me gently so my back's against the wall. He presses full up against me 
and starts grinding his hips. I feel his erection push against mine. Oh, God, I 
think I'm gonna die.

His mouth finds mine and his tongue, hot and wet, invades my mouth. His lips stay 
locked on mine, as he continues to hump me.

He slowly pulls away until I feel only his hand on my chest. He squeezes my 
nipples and I moan.

His hand continues down my body until he finds the outline of my rigid dick in my 
pants.

He pinches the tip through the fabric. I give a little yelp. He presses his hand 
against my dick, rubbing, pushing. 

The only sensation is my back against the cold concrete and his hand, hot and 
hard, driving my dick.

I hold my breath as he makes me come in my pants. 

"Can't leave any evidence." He whispers in my ear.

*** 
Livermore Valley Travl Inn, room 302
Wednesday 2:45 A.M.

We're barely in the hotel room when I grab Krycek. 

Despite my recent orgasm, I'm ready for him again. I don't know how or why he can 
do this to me, but right now, I don't care.

I push him against the wall and start to re-enact the tunnel scene. 

I feel his erection as I grind into him. Grunting sounds coming from him as I 
seek out his mouth.

I pull away from him, my hand trailing down his chest to his cock. His eyes are 
half closed, his lips parted. Suddenly he grabs me and I find myself falling on 
the bed.

He stands over me, then pulls down my sweatpants, He grabs my cock and squeezes. 
"Stay there." 

I see him go to the closet for lube and condoms. Instead of returning to me, he 
looks around the room. 

Stopping at the dresser he raises his eyebrows. "Come here. Sit." He pats the 
dresser.

I have no idea what's going on, but my dick is controlling my movements. Next 
think I know I'm sitting on the dresser and he's in front of me. 

He opens his fly, pushes his pants down, but not off. He puts the condom on, then 
lubes his fingers.

I'm not in the most comfortable position, my ass at the edge of the dresser, 
halfway sitting up with my shoulders and head against the wall. But when he 
starts finger fucking me, I'm feeling no pain.

I feel two fingers, then three. He knows I'm ready.

He pulls his fingers out and starts pushing his cock in. Not gently and slowly 
like last night, but hard and fast. I don't need gentle tonight.

"Legs. Around my waist," he grunts at me. I wrap them loosely around him as he 
reaches around and pulls me forward. I throw my arms around his neck.

He plunders my mouth while fucking me. I can't think straight.

He breaks the kiss. "Want to see you." 

I lean back against the wall. 

He takes my right hand and puts it on my dick. His hand over mine, pumping my 
cock.

I don't notice that he removed his hand, until I feel it wrapped around my 
throat. My eyes fly open.

"Your wildest dreams," he grunts. I put my left hand on his wrist, just to be 
sure. 

My eyes are closed, my breathing's constricted. He loosens his grip and I gasp 
for air. 

He starts pumping faster and harder. I'm jacking off to his rhythm. 

His hand tightens slowly. I feel blood pounding in my head. I'm at the edge of 
consciousness when my orgasm rips through me.

I have never felt anything this intense before. Every cell in my body is pulsing, 
hammering. I'm seeing colors and spots before my closed eyes.

He releases me and I pant, almost wheezing. The roar in my ears subsides and I 
slowly come back to earth.

*** 
I watch Mulder as he comes, his face blood-filled red.

The vision of him with my hand at his throat, his hand on my wrist giving a false 
sense of safety sends me headlong into the most powerful orgasm I've ever had.

*My* wildest dream. He'll never know how close I came to killing him. 

***
Wednesday 10:00 A.M.

I touch the bruises on my neck before I start shaving. 

Krycek comes up behind me, looking concerned. He puts his hand on my shoulder. 

"Do they hurt?"

"Only in a good way."

*** 
Wednesday 11:30 P.M.

Most of the day was spent sleeping, fucking and eating. I feel like an animal. A 
well-sated animal.

I called Scully to let her know I'm okay and everything is working to plan. Well, 
maybe not everything. I didn't see a plan item where I was going to be fucked 
stupid by Krycek. I hope the bruises fade by Friday.

Tonight's mission is simple. Retrieve the tape so we know what we'll be up 
against tomorrow night.

The two of us aren't necessary for this trip, but we've gotten used to each 
other.

***
Livermore Valley Travl Inn, room 302
Thursday Noon

We didn't get a single shot of anyone in that hallway. I don't know if that's 
good or bad. 

Krycek wanted to get a shot of a badge, "for future use."

I talk him out of going to the facility in broad daylight to see if he can zoom 
in to someone entering or exiting the compound. I remind him that he did check 
the facility before and didn't see foot or car traffic then.

He's sulking. "I'm going into town. I just can't sit around here."

"Alex, come on, it's just a few hours before we head out. Let's not take a chance 
and risk what we have... risk the mission."

"Mulder, I won't do anything to compromise this. I promise. I'll go to a 
bookstore. Maybe Starbucks. Then I'll head back here."

***

I just need to get away from Mulder for a bit. Not him exactly, I'm used to being 
on my own. I need time to myself.

No denying the sex is great. He's up for whatever I want. And a lot kinkier than 
I would have expected.

***
Basement Room at the End of the Tunnel
Thursday, 11:45 P.M. 

I watch Krycek carefully cut out part of the drywall. We're all business now. 
This is it. Our one shot in. 

We'll be separating shortly. We'll meet back here at exactly 3:30 A.M. If one of 
us isn't here, the other leaves at 3:35 regardless.

Krycek punches out the cut segment then crawls out to the hallway. I hand him the 
vacuum and he cleans up the plaster in the hallway.

He tosses the vacuum back in. I hear the lateral cabinet being moved. He 
positions it in front of the cut out and I attach two suction handles. I pull it 
back against the opening. Good fit.

I tap on the cabinet and it's moved away. I make my way out.

With the cabinet pushed back, no one will see our little hidey-hole.

Something in the back of my head pops up. "Why aren't there any cameras inside?"

"They're arrogant. They think of us like we think of lab rats." The venom is his 
voice silences me.

"Krycek?" 

He turns to me. "Yeah?"

"Good luck, tovarich."

He gives me a short salute and leaves.

***
Friday, 2:30 A.M.

One hour until I need to meet up with Krycek.

My search has gotten me research papers, aerial maps and a list of names. I'm 
copying data from one of their computers. I don't know what I'll get, but it 
could be worth it.

I tried to get into a lab room, but there were two men in there. // Fucking 
workaholics. //

I'll try it again on the way out.

***
Friday, 3:10 A.M.

I make my way back to the lab room I missed earlier. It's deserted now.

There's a refrigeration unit, two tub-sized vats filled with green liquid and a 
few lab tables.

There is nothing floating in the vats, but I know what they're for. I've seen 
them in use.

The shelves of the refrigeration unit hold glass slides and tissue samples. I 
gather a few up. Scully's gonna love this.

I hear voices outside, then sound of the door opening.

*** 
Friday, 3:19 A.M.

"The delivery mechanism is flawed, I tell you."

"Chen, you've told me. You keep telling me. Will you just get off it? Now where 
was my notebook?"

I wish these guys would quit bitching and get out of here. How long can you stand 
there talking about crap? 

I'm under the lab table next to the refrigeration unit. It's cold and I'm getting 
a cramp.

"But bees, Markham? How can you control the flight pattern of bees?"

The voices are heading away, Chen whining and Markham muttering. Thank God.

***
Friday, 3:28 A.M.

I round the corner to our getaway when I see Krycek. He's dragging a body.

I rush over to him. "What the fuck?"

"He spotted me. We have to stash him."

I pull the lateral cabinet away and Krycek stuffs the body through. I follow and 
pull the cabinet back.

Krycek snaps on the lamp and starts packing up.

I pace the room, staring at the unconscious hostage. Krycek kneels by him.

Going to the prone body, I see Krycek pocket the ID badge. // Lawrence Driscoll. 
//

"Krycek, what the hell are we going to do with him?" 

"I have to suppress him. He knows who I am."

"Suppress? Is that assassin speak for murder? You can't just kill him." 

He glares at me. "What am I supposed to do? Carry him back to the hotel and hope 
he doesn't tell?"

"You can't kill him." 

"Give me options."

Moments pass in silence. There are no options.

Krycek bows his head and closes his eyes.

When he looks up again he says, "Leave now. You can't handle this."

I start moving away when I see Krycek begin to strangle the poor son of a bitch.

I fixate on Krycek's black-gloved hand on Driscoll's throat. And, God forgive me, 
I'm getting hard.

I turn away and walk down the tunnel. 

*** 
Livermore Valley Travl Inn, room 302
Friday 4:00 A.M.

We haven't exchanged a word since the basement. 

Krycek's face is closed off, devoid of emotion.

I'm conflicted. I want to comfort Krycek. I want to beat Krycek to avenge 
Driscoll. I want to be beaten as absolution for wanting that black-gloved hand at 
my throat.

***
Friday, 10:00 A.M.

The sound of the shower wakes me. I sit up on my elbows and look around. 

Krycek's things are neatly arranged on his bed. 

The shower stops and, after a few minutes, he emerges from the bathroom. He 
glances at me but looks away quickly. He's no longer expressionless, he looks... 
sad.

Moving to his bed, he lays out clothes, then packs the rest.

"Alex." // Have I ever called him Alex? //

He turns to me. I pat the bed next to me. 

I'm not sure what I'm doing, not sure what I want from him.

He comes over and sits by me. "I... I had to do that," he says quietly.

I put my hand on his thigh. I can't reassure him or really justify what he did. 

His hand reaches and strokes my face. I close my eyes.

I pull him to me. He hungrily kisses me, his tongue invading my mouth. All 
thoughts of last night disappear.

He pulls off his towel and lies on me. His mouth is on my neck, his hand in my 
hair as he furiously pumps against me. 

My hands are all over him, stroking his neck and back. Squeezing his ass. 

There's a desperation in both of us. Maybe because of Driscoll. Maybe because we 
both know this is the last time.

"Get the lube," I whisper frantically. He leaves for a moment and comes back with 
lube, condoms and a short black strap.

His mouth starts moving down my body, licking and biting a trail down to my cock. 
He takes me in his mouth. I throw my head back into the pillow.

His hand is moving along the base of my cock while he's sucking on the head. I 
feel something, but I don't know what. Suddenly there's pressure, and he pulls 
away. He fastened the black strap around my cock and balls. The pressure is just 
at the edge, but god, it feels so good.

Moving his way back up my body, he positions himself so he's almost sitting on my 
chest. He starts rolling the condom on but stops with it just past the head of 
his cock. 

With his hand bracing him on the wall, he moves up and forward so his cock is at 
my lips. "Roll it on." I use my mouth to roll the condom down his cock. I slide 
down a little to take his balls in my mouth. I hear a low groan coming from him.

He pulls back and I take his dick again. He starts slowly fucking my face. 

Then, pulling back from me he makes his way between my legs. My cock is throbbing 
and he takes it in his hand. I moan as he slowly strokes me.

He puts my leg on his shoulder; I move the other one up.

I feel him pushing into my ass. No fingers, they're not needed; I am so ready for 
him.

There's no finesse in his fucking this time. He's pounding and pumping my ass, as 
I rock and move to meet him. We're like two animals rutting. Fulfilling a raw 
need.

I reach for my dick, but he slaps my hand away. "Not. Until. I. Tell. You," he 
grunts out. 

In a matter of moments he slams hard into me and I feel him come.

He collapses on me. Breathing hard. 

He slips out of me and rolls on his side, languidly stroking my dick. 

He's teasing me. His finger runs little circles on the head of my dick. Each 
revolution making me jump.

"God, Alex, please..." I can't speak anymore, but reach for my dick.

"No. Put your hands above your head." I don't know why, but I do it.

He moves back between my legs holding the bottle of lube. He can't possibly be 
hard again.

His hand pops open the black leather strap, I feel blood course through my dick--
a hot sting.

Two fingers enter my ass; he goes immediately to my prostate. I damn near hit the 
roof. 

Three fingers, pumping me. He reaches forward and licks my cock, making me wail.

He stops sucking me. His complete attention is on his hand opening up my ass.

I feel all his fingers push slowly into me. His knuckles stop at my sphincter. I 
can't see what he's doing, but I feel him gently rotating his hand. 

I arch my back at the pain, then feel myself melt with the pleasure. I know he's 
gotten in. 

"Breathe," he says to me. "Breathe, Mulder.

His fingers curl in my rectum--I can feel it all, and it is so damned good. 

He's fisting me. With each thrust, his knuckles graze my prostate. He rotates his 
fist and I scream, "YES!" 

More thrusting, more rotation. I'm holding my breath again, I let it out slowly. 
I'm feeling high from the endorphin rush.

"Jack yourself off, Mulder." I start stroking myself. I'm desperate to come, 
but I don't want this feeling to end.

I can't hold back. I come, yelling his name.

*** 

Alex is taking the last of his bags to his rental car. 

I haven't moved since he pulled his fist out of my ass. I'm afraid to move. Not 
that I'll hurt, but that I'll break the moment.

The door opens and he enters. He smiles when he sees me still sprawled on the 
bed.

He comes over to the bed. Bending over, he picks up my boxers and uses them to 
wipe my come off my chest // and face and hair. //

"Alex, what *is* it with you and my sperm on clothes?"

"I dunno. Easier than getting Kleenex?"

He stands there, holding my now semen-stained underwear.

"I have to go now. I need to be at the resistance encampment by noon."

He hesitates, kisses me on the cheek and starts to the door. 

"I'm going to take these. Just a souvenir," he says at the door.

And then he's gone.

*** 

I stare at the closed door. I know it's over, that it never should have begun but 
I just can't leave it like this. I pull on my jeans and tear out after him.

I'm running down the stairs barefooted. // Thank god for shag carpeting. // I 
stop suddenly when I hear his voice. He's in the hallway, speaking to someone.

"... I'll be at the resistance camp by noon." 

I move cautiously and quietly, peering out of the stairwell. In the mirrored 
hallway I see the reflection of Krycek and the Elegant Brit. 

Krycek hands something over to him. A look of distaste on the Brit's face as he 
takes it. My boxers! He gave him my fucking boxers!

Krycek's low growl, "I believe I've won."

"Yes, Mr. Krycek." The Brit transfers an overstuffed envelope. "You had my word 
as a gentleman. And a gentleman always honors his wagers."

***

I weigh the envelope in my hand. It's heavy. I put it in my inside jacket pocket. 
The weight is reassuring.

In four hours, my obligations will be over. My life will be mine again. My 
winnings, just frosting on the cake.

I turn and blow a kiss at Mulder's shocked reflection as I leave.

*** 
END
4 June 2000

Feedback please! No feedback means I throw tantrums, hold my breath and stop 
writing.
Email me:  loren.q@att.net
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