A small sigh and a restless wiggle of wool blend suit against the leather couch reminded Mulder that he was not alone. He glanced at Krycek, who was sucking on the end of his pen, his black- lashed eyes, half-shuttered, the lids a dusky color, as he uttered that pensive sound. "You want some more coffee?" Mulder asked.
Krycek startled as if he had forgotten where he was. The eyes blinked several times and then, Krycek stretched. His body bulged against the cheap fabric of his suit. He had taken off his jacket before he sat down. His tie was loosened and askew on his neck. His inexpensive shirt was dampening and Mulder could see a dark nipple when Krycek arched his body. He felt a throbbing reaction from his groin as his mind ran a porno-show of those clothes dissolving like those on the stupid gag gift glasses that Frohike had sent him last Christmas.
Krycek said, "No more coffee. I want something cold." He licked his lips, very pretty mouth; the upper lip was an exquisite bow and the lower lip was full, almost sulky. Mulder pictured the lips strained over his cock, eyes open and gazing up at him with that admiring, offering look.
Mulder said, "I have some iced tea." Mulder poured the tea he had brewed in the sun tea jar, that had showed up on his kitchen counter, either a gift from Scully or an odd tracking device from aliens. He had some cookies too. Krycek had brought them in a white paper bakery bag when he had arrived to go over the files on this case. The bag was wrinkled now and grease spots testifying to the presence of fatty substances. Mulder opened the bag and saw small round cookies, covered liberally with powdered sugar. He put them on a plate and carried the offerings into the living room.
In the short time that he had been gone, Krycek had removed his tie and shoes. The navy blue tie, with its yellow diamond pattern, dragged between the agent's fingers as if Krycek was considering strangulation. Krycek's sweet mouth was slightly open, his lips parted and slick with a coat of saliva. The agent startled when Mulder entered the room and a faint color added to his tanned complexion.
Krycek reached down to put his shoes back on. His feet were clad in black socks, the left covering was worn thin, his big toe about to wriggle out. Mulder said, "Hey, relax. I took my shoes off hours ago."
Krycek smiled and pushed the shoes aside, laying the tie inside one of them. Mulder put down the tray and said, "Let's take a break. These cookies look good."
The young agent reached for a napkin, not remarking that it was an overstock from a drive in, the red logo imprinted on a corner. Krycek took up his glass of tea and one of the powdered sugar covered treats. "They're Russian Tea Cakes." He stated, "The bakery makes them with real butter, walnuts ground to a rough flour, and a surprise in the middle."
Chocolate, Mulder discovered, as he bit into one of the concoctions. They melted in a froth of flavor over his tongue. The chocolate inside had a tripod shape and Mulder grinned. He said, "They have kisses inside them."
Krycek's eyes met his and Mulder's smile widened. He was sure now. Krycek bit into the cookie and his pink lips were covered with white powdered sugar. His tongue flicked out and his eyes half closed, a little shiver of delight snaking down his body. Another bite and the cookie was gone, leaving its sweet trail behind, but before Krycek could lick away the evidence, Mulder had moved.
Mulder's own tongue washed away the sweet traces, delved between the lips after licking away every fleck of the treat. His arms on either side of the agent captured him. He straddled Krycek's lap, reached one hand to cup the line of chin and the kiss went longer and deeper then Mulder remembered kissing any one.
A sound emerged almost purr like as Mulder devoured the mouth beneath his. Krycek gripped his shoulder and pulled him closer. Mulder fought his hand in between to unbutton the shirt, pulled it up and away from the sweat damp torso. He broke apart, looking for consent and Krycek fell like a boneless creature back against the couch, panting; chest rising and falling rapidly. His nipples had peaked and a blush of arousal painted downwards from his slender neck over the upper body and spreading toward the lower torso.
Mulder tore off the belt and unzipped Krycek, ripping down briefs and suit pants, kneeling before the dissolute young god in worship to pull off the socks. He tenderly stroked the worn spot over the toes and kissed the top of Krycek's naked foot when he had it free.
Krycek naked was just as he should be. The suits had hid a fit body, a wedge of broad flesh from the sturdy shoulders to the stretch of chest, a concave of belly and the v pointer of hair giving direction to the semi-erect cock, standing from his tangled nest of pubic hair. Mulder placed his hands on the knees and spread Krycek wide for perusal and more. Krycek spared him a glance then made a sound of such eagerness that Mulder worried one or both of them would cum before they even consummated as much as a touch of lips to cock.
Krycek's thighs showed the smooth swell of muscle, obtained only from diligent sweating at gyms. The rigid cock was suffusing with deeper colors. Mulder could see a thick vein running down the shaft. It pulsed demandingly. The fat, shiny head of Krycek's rod was beading with pearls of moisture. Mulder felt saliva rise in his mouth, watering in anticipation. Krycek groaned and his head rolled against the leather couch, completely lost in his frenzy of desire. Mulder massaged the inside of Krycek's legs, kissed the smooth, darkened flesh before grasping the thick cock to steady it for his first taste.
Desire had a bitter flavor. Mulder savored it. His own cock was dampening his shorts and the moisture was leaking into the worn fabric of the jeans he wore. Mulder unzipped letting his cock out of its tight bind of material. Krycek pushed outward and Mulder's forgotten tea glass spilled on the coffee table. The young man startled, a guilty look crossing the boyish face. Mulder said, "Forget it."
Mulder explored, circling the smooth head. Krycek emitted a whine then with a sudden decidedness; he said, "Stop."
Damn it, Mulder thought. His eagerness made him want to mutiny. He should have known the exciting although possibly duplicitous beauty was a cock-tease.
A low tone, molasses-thick, imbued with some iniquitous flavor that invited concupiscence, demanded, "More, all the way, fuck me. Take me."
Staggering like drunkards, they paused in the doorway. Mulder threw his perspired tee shirt back towards the living room. Krycek keened as he tugged at Mulder's jeans and shorts, managing to get them off as Mulder clung to the arch, a victim of an internal earthquake. Krycek's eyes swept over him and his face was slack with the force of his desire. They dragged each other the few remaining feet, rapacious to the point of madness. Their mouths devoured each other and their hands pinched, smoothed, grasped, and ripped away any boundaries between them until they were raw and volatile ready for some final, almost fatal ignition.
Mulder dragged Krycek sideway on the bed. The lust-crazed creature arched and spread for him, his body ready and eager. The bed table drawer stuck and Mulder wrenched at it, cursing his procrastination at replacing the obdurate piece of furniture. The entire drawer finally gave, tumbling to the floor.
Krycek propped himself on an elbow, giggling, the sound traveling to create a spiral of soft movement over his entire firm body.
"Don't you laugh," Mulder scolded as he found condoms and a hardly used tube of lubrication. Krycek laid back, one arm vulnerably out flung, soft whorl of hair in the shadowy pit, tilted hand, opening and closing on the rumpled bedspread. The other hand rested on his stomach, fingers twitching as if restrained from comforting his upright prick. Mulder's eyes memorized every detail, savoring this moment. His lubricated finger probed and Krycek undulated on the bed. His ass muscles clamped for a moment. Krycek muttered, "Sorry, hurry! I want you so much."
Mulder had never had a lover so eager. Krycek was unbarred to him. His flesh shivered with paroxysms of passion. Mulder reluctantly garbed his flesh in the necessary shield, wishing he could take the risk just this once. He knelt and kissed each leg that now twined around him, sustaining their solid weight in fervent clasp of him.
To enter Krycek was at first like floating on the heavy salt of oceanic waters. Mulder had a sensation of harbor, not entering, but reuniting two magnetic halves. To thrust and writhe against each other's superheated flesh was to drown in the depths. He gasped. Krycek uttered a sound like agony manifest. Mulder felt the bristle of his harsh hair against the ripe halves of that perfect ass. Krycek's neck was lifted to him, baring itself to his conquest. The lips drew away from the flawless gnash of teeth. He moaned, abandoned, for a moment alone in his pleasure until his eyes flashed open and he grasped Mulder's hand. Krycek laved an open-mouthed kiss on the palm before allowing Mulder to grip him harder.
Mulder thrust, his teeth gritted as he willed it not to stop just yet, but Krycek screamed silently and his cock jerked forcefully as his cum pulsed from the empurpled organ. Mulder lost his battle and gratefully succumbed to his pleasure. The universe narrowed to the fire that burned along every nerve and caused Mulder's flesh to spasm in a cataclysm of completion.
Slipping apart, Mulder felt a bone deep loss. The two of them panted in rhythm still, a harmony of exertion. Mulder collapsed beside Krycek's surfeit body. He laid a possessive hand on the tender flesh of Krycek's belly, feeling the dampness of sweat and the sticky traces of his spent desire. Krycek stroked the condom-clad heat of Mulder's dwindling erection, drawing the second skin away and disposing of it.
Krycek moved first, up, away. Mulder's heart pounded. He swore if Krycek tried to walk away from this as if it were nothing that he would run naked down the corridor and force him back.
Krycek returned; skin dewed with water, still a tantalizing hint of sex beneath the stronger odor of fresh soap. A perfectly heated washcloth delicately cleaned Mulder's sensitive cock. Krycek insistently pulled at Mulder, monk-like in his silence as if belonging to some order that prohibited speech, but not passion. Mulder let himself be drawn up. Krycek tossed the soiled spread to the side and drew back the blanket and sheet. He slid into the bed, sighed, holding up an importuning hand. Mulder took the offering, kissed the sweat from the palm, and tasted the salt from the soft creases between fingers. He lay down, snuggled to the now familiar body. Spooned together, a stroke of tender hands along strands of velvety hair, an almost chaste kiss and their breaths harmonized into deep, sweet sleep.
On to Nil Astraea