Title: Star Me Kitten
Author: Amatia
Email: violinst@pitnet.net
Category: Slash - Sp/K, a touch of H. V. Rating: NC-17, I guess...
Disclaimer: Has Carter ever sued a FanFic author? Spoilers: "Two Fathers", other non-major mytharc. Some 2F details are probably wrong.
Archiving: Gossamer. All others, mail first. Thanx. Summary: Spender, Krycek, a fast car, some whiskey, and a park bench. Need I say more?
Note: This is a product of late-night boredom, inability to actually go to sleep at a decent hour even though I work tomorrow, and Lipton Brisk Iced Tea. I am not endorsing drinking and driving, or alcohol by itself, I hate the taste, but I had get Jeff to loosen up a little... Another Note: I think I need counselling...why must I write these angst-flavored endings?

***

"Star Me Kitten"
by Amatia

 

I saw he was still staring at the body, and reached over to shake his shoulder. "Come on, we've got to get out of here."

"What about the body?" Spender looked down at the faceless man with the green fluid still bubbling out of his neck.

"Don't worry about it, Spender. Let's go." I turned, expecting Spender to follow.

He didn't. "We can't just leave it here!"

"Don't worry about it," I replied, more forceful this time.

"But - "

"It'll dispose of itself."

"What do you mean it'll dispose of itself?" he asked, incredously. "What's going on here? Who was this man?"

"Jeffrey," I said. "You need to calm down."

"Tell me what's going on!" he demanded.

I turned back towards him. "Didn't your father tell you?"

"My father has told me only what he believes I need to know."

I gestured to the body on the floor. The head had started to dissolve into the thick green blood of the alien rebels. "It will dissolve into nothing more than a green stain on the carpeting."

"It's not human."

"Of course not."

He sat down in one of the chairs. Obviously we weren't going anywhere. "I told him that I wanted to know, and he slapped me. He thinks I won't believe."

"You never believed your mother when she tried to tell you," I replied, leaning against the wall.

"About her abductions?"

"Yes."

"How could I believe her? It was rubbish! The flying motherwheel, the apocalypse, her being the Prophet."

"Forget about it, Jeff," I replied. "Come on, we'll take a long drive. Get out of the city for a little while. Get your mind off this."

He looked over at me. "I can't leave my job at the Bureau without notice."

"I'll take care of it," I assured him. "Now, let's get out of here before your father sends some goons to find us."

Spender followed me out of the house, and we got in the car. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," I said, starting the car, and pulling away from the curb.

"You don't really work for him, do you?" he asked, but it was more a statement.

I gave him a 'get real' look. "I can't believe that you do."

He moved uncomfortably in the seat, and didn't answer. "Oh, stop looking so sour," I snapped. "Honestly, Jeff, do you do anything but work?"

"Not really," he replied. "I've spent the majority of the last three years trying to earn a good reputation at the Bureau. But Mulder wrecked it all, so I went to work for my father."

"You, my friend, remind me of myself years ago. When I actually wanted to be someone." I looked over my shoulder as we moved onto the Interstate. "But I went to work for your father, and I tried to wreck it all for Mulder. Didn't work, of course, but it never does."

Spender sighed, and leaned back against the seat. "I don't suppose you've got any alcohol in here, do you?"

"I never figured you for an alcoholic." He shot me a dark look, and I chuckled. "Glove compartment."

He pulled the flask of whiskey out, and took a drink. "You?" he asked, offiering it to me.

"No, I'm driving. It's all yours. But don't get drunk, if you puke on the upholstery I'll have to explain why you were in the passenger seat instead of the back."

"I hold my liquor better than you'd think," he replied, taking another drink. "Hardly anyone notices when I have a hangover at work."

"That's because half the Bureau probably goes to work with a hangover, mainly because they know the coffee the secretaries make will cure any illness."

"I bring my own coffee."

"Ah, a renegade."

"Shut up."

"You know, you're not very friendly," I chuckled.

He gave me another dark look. "If you were me, would you be friendly?"

"I was you, buddy boy, and I still managed to adopt some of Mulder's dry wit. Sure puts a spin on virtual reality, doesn't it?"

"Whatever." Spender continued to nurse the flask. "I must say you got good whiskey."

"I only get the best liquor, that's where all my money goes," I replied, shrugging, pressing harder on the gas petal. "But when I can't drink, I drive fast. You've been warned."

He shrugged in reply. "Works for me."

We zoomed down the interstate, barely talking. Traffic was light, and we were out of Washington in minutes, and partway through Maryland in a half an hour. Spender finally got exasperated with me and demanded to know where we were going.

"Here," I said, turning off the street, and onto a dirt road that led into a park.

"A park?"

"Hey, don't diss it. We could still be with the alien in D.C." I parked the car, and got out. "Come on, Jeff. It'll be better than it looks, I promise."

He was half-drunk by now, and brought the whiskey with him. I led the way down a path through the trees, to a clearing. A iron park bench stood on the edge of it. "Sit," I ordered. He sat down, taking another drink. "Let me have some of that before you drink it all."

"You said you didn't drink and drive."

"I lied," I said, taking the flask from his hand. He reached up and pulled off his tie, flinging it to the ground. "Don't forget that when we leave," I admonished him.

Spender snorted, taking the flask back once I'd taken a drink. The whiskey burned down my throat, and started a low fire in my stomach. I leaned back on the bench and looked at him.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

"This," I replied, and, leaning over, kissed him full on the lips, deeply, forcing his mouth open with my tongue. He tasted, of course, of the whiskey, and breathmints. Generic ones. He was still under the assault for a moment, then I felt his resistance shatter, and he started to kiss me back. Like he hadn't kissed anyone in years, which I doubted he had.

I released him, and he looked at me wide-eyed. I raised my eyebrow at him, not feeling embarassed in the least. A flush began to rise on his face, creeping up his neck to bloom pink on the tops of his cheekbones. I simply stared at him for a long moment, daring him to say something. But he didn't, just raised the flask again. There was a faint tremor in his hand as he did.

'Oh, to Hell with it,' I thought to myself in Russian, and leaned over. "Jeff..." I whispered in his ear, placing my hand on his crotch. His cock twitched under my palm, and his blush deepened. "I want to suck you off."

He didn't reply, just swallowed, and blinked rapidly. Seven times, I counted. Then he tipped his head back, setting the flask beside him on the bench, and I took that as a yes. I picked his tie up off the ground, and tied his hands together behind his head. He didn't protest as I did it, just closed his eyes. "Don't you want to look?" I whispered to him as I unzipped his pants and slid my right hand inside.

A low moan escaped his lips as I wrapped my fingers around his cock, and freed it from the confines of his boxers. I saw his eyes open, barely focusing. Alcohol will do that to you.

I ran my thumb up the underside of his cock, and over the head. As I took his length into my mouth, I felt him twist slightly, trying to free his hands. I placed both my hands on his hips to keep him from bucking, and licked the length of his cock. Above me, he moaned, and I smiled against his flesh as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, then swallowed him again. He tried to raise his hips, but I held him down, and began to suck on his cock. Another moan escaped his lips, louder this time, and I knew he wasn't going to be able to hold it.

"Alex..." My name this time, as I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, my lips around the head, and started to pump him. Five seconds of his hot flesh against my tongue, and he came, I swallowed all of the thick salty fluid, licked it off his cock until it softened.

I looked up at him, wiping a drop of his cum from the corner of my mouth. His eyes were half closed, each breath heavy like a sigh. I tucked his cock back into his pants, and untied his hands. Spender opened his eyes fully, and his gaze met mine. He didn't speak, and I raised my eyebrows at him. He gave me a drunken smile, and I laughed. "Feel less guilty now?"

He raised a hand to the front of my jeans, my hard cock making a noticeable bulge, but I stepped back. "You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Some other time," I said firmly, regretting that I had to say it. "Drunk men usually regret giving blowjobs the next day."

xHe mumbled something I couldn't make out, and picked up the flask.

I took it from his hand. "Come on, Jeff. I'll take you home."

He let me lead him to the car, half stumbling. I knew I'd have to take him up to his apartment, but I wasn't going in. If I went in, I'd be there all night, and I knew he'd regret it.

"I won't regret it," I heard him say. I'd voiced my thoughts.

"You will," I said in reply, helping him get into the car. "End of discussion."

His hand strayed to my erection several times on the way home, but I pushed him away, amazed that there was actually someone who would reciprocate a blowjob, but declining nonetheless. He gave slurred directions to his apartment, and I found it without problem. "Ok, you're home now," I said to the half-asleep Spender.

"You gonna walk me to my door?"

"Only as far as your door, that's it," I replied.

I walked him up the steps, and unlocked his door for him. "Goodnight, Jeff." I handed him his tie. As I'd predicted, he'd forgotten about it.

"Night..." he yawned halfway though saying the word, and stumbled into the apartment.

I went back out to the car, listening for loud crashes and hoping he wouldn't kill himself. Then I drove myself home, and jacked off in the darkness of my living room, whispering his name.

<end>

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