Don't yell at me. This is in response to a challenge from another list...which was writing a story with something other than lube as lube. It could be worse, believe me. If you don't think you could handle slight kink...don't read this. Please. And the sequel to Rats and Sinking Ships is
Don't yell at me. This is in response
to a challenge from another list...which was writing a story with
something other than lube as lube. It could be worse, believe
me. If you don't think you could handle slight kink...don't
read this. Please.
And the sequel to Rats and Sinking Ships is done! (yeah!) but not beta'ed (boo) so it'll be bit, yet, sorry.
Not mine, never will be...sigh. I'm dealing with it. Although I had a weird dream where CC came to my town and stole my horse 'cause I was using his toys...but we won't get into that here.
Mulder woke to the sound of the toilet flushing. He jumped to his feet and reached for the gun that was disassembled on the table. Damn it. He dropped to his hands and knees to find his secondary gun he kept under the couch, and heard someone blow his nose.
"Whad a sighd to come home to," Krycek said, throwing the kleenex into the toilet.
Mulder slowly turned his head and stared. For once, Krycek looked like hell. His thin nose was red and swollen, and his usually angry green eyes were bloodshot with very heavy bags under them. Whether he had a cold or a fever it was obvious Krycek was starving it as his jeans hung off his hips. He shoved his hands into his leather jacket and hugged his too thin body before turning his head and coughed hard enough to wrack his body.
"Shall we skip the preliminary beating today?" Mulder asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
Krycek sneezed, collapsing against the doorframe. "I'll breed on you," he said.
Mulder stared...and then realized what Krycek had meant to say. It was hard for him to take the threat seriously and not burst out laughing. But the way Krycek looked his germs could possibly be just as deadly as the rest of him. "Sit down before you fall," Mulder finally said when it was obvious Krycek wasn't going to say anything else.
"Led's take a dribe," Krycek said instead.
Mulder glanced around the apartment, down at his sweats and then grabbed his keys. It wasn't worth arguing about. With his long coat he could get away getting down to the parcade, but he was still glad to unlock the car door and slip inside.
He hadn't seen Krycek in months. Not since the last time he'd been woken up in the middle of the night by a gun pressing against his throat. Followed very shortly by something else pressing against somewhere else. He woke up the next morning alone and that had been it. No calls, no emails...there hadn't even been a single unexplained hang up. Krycek could have been rotting in a ditch for all he knew.
Of course, the way the poor guy looked, Krycek could very well have spent a great deal of their time away rotting in a ditch. Krycek hacked again and reached into his jacket pocket. Mulder tensed out of habit, but Krycek pulled out a harmless bottle of cough syrup. "Relax," Krycek said, opening the bottle up and taking a swig from it. He must have seen the way Mulder stared at him, because he offered the green liquid sloshed against its bottle as it was offered. "Alder your realidy?" he asked.
"No, thanks, my reality doesn't need any more altering," Mulder said, starting to get amused. Krycek's suffering tended to do that to him.
Krycek sneezed again, and sniffed instead of blowing his nose. "Your loss. It's powerful shid."
"What brings you here?" Mulder finally asked
Krycek let his head roll back against the car seat. "You know, bid of this, bid of thad," he turned his head and coughed. "Needed a place to crash."
"So you thought you'd come here and infect me."
"Thad's the idea, yeah."
Despite the dark bags and the hunted look, Krycek looked just as fine as he ever had. The vulnerability in his eyes made him look fallible and human. He was a psychologist and he didn't even know the fetish for needing to fuck sick people. Instead of dwelling on it he drove to an abandoned lot and parked.
Krycek parted his lips to speak, and Mulder wanted to reach out and touch how the moisture on the tender pink tissue of his inner lips reflected the light from the dash. He moved across the distance to kiss Krycek before realizing the stupidity of the action and the gazillion germs in a drop of that moisture.
Krycek realized it at the same time and put his hand over his mouth. "Sorry. We should skip the tonsil hockey," he said, slightly muffled.
Mulder nodded, and then moved his body down so that he could pull off Krycek's jacket. He ran his hands across the flat belly, and then down a bit to the front of Krycek's jeans. He didn't try to undo them, but rubbed against the already hard cock beneath them. Krycek closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he tried to lift his hips higher off the car seat. He rubbed the back of his neck against the seat, and groaned as Mulder's hand moved down between his thighs and pressed up against his ass. "I wand to fuck you," Krycek hissed. "In the backseat like teenagers."
Mulder's cock waited to hear that. It had been a long time since the last time...but then realized he hadn't been to the drug store lately. "Uh...damn," he said, finally.
Krycek instantly moved so that he could study the surroundings around him. Mulder noticed even though Krycek was sicker than a dog, he was still was lucid enough to look around to see that there was nothing and nobody in the immediate area. "Whad?" he asked, breathing heavily through his mouth. Mulder's hand didn't stop moving against him, but this time it was almost apologetic.
"I don't have any lube."
"You...whad?" Krycek asked. Krycek put his hand over Mulder's, and the contact was too warm. He was going to pull away but Krycek wouldn't let him.
"I wasn't expecting you," Mulder said, hoping it didn't sound as pathetic as it was.
"You're never expeding me," Krycek snapped. The hand over Mulder's now tightened and dug the nails in. Mulder felt a small shudder. Krycek either had something in mind or the two of them were going to have a very long night. "Did I say you could stop?" he snapped.
Mulder shook his head and went back to the gentle stroking. Krycek closed his eyes again, and a very sick smile spread across his lips. "Ged in the back sead," he said.
Mulder's gut tightened. "I told you...I don't-" he began.
"I don' care. Back sead, Mulder."
Mulder opened the car door. The street was abandoned at three thirty in the morning, and he took the time to strip of his jacket before getting into the back. It took a moment of adjusting, and he waited for Krycek on his hands and knees. The car wasn't that large, but there was room enough for Krycek to slip in behind him. He could hear Krycek's heavy breathing beside him. There was a moment of silence, and then the slight shifting from the leather jacket as Krycek pulled something out of his pocket again.
More sloshing. Mulder's body jerked, but Krycek wouldn't let him up from his hands and knees. "Don' worry, id soothes as it coads," Krycek hissed in his ear. He didn't want to think of what else was in Krycek's hot breath on his neck. He couldn't see, but had to assume Krycek unscrewed the bottle cap by the crackling from the bottle's lid. Krycek took another swallow and then Mulder felt his sweats being pushed down off his hips. A moment later Krycek's sticky, cold cock press against him.
Mulder had to bite down on the cushion to keep from grunting. The medicine must have had something in it to make his ass numb enough that Krycek moving inside him was only mildly uncomfortable for the first second or too. The more friction that built, pressing against his prostate, the more cool the syrup felt against him. Krycek had to cough again, but he was kind enough to turn his head and cough into the back of the seat rather than getting any of the spittle on him.
"You're sick, you know that?" Mulder asked, squeezing his eyes shut. Krycek continued slapping against his skin. "And I love you for it."
Krycek stopped fucking him for a moment...probably wondering if Mulder said it or if it was a drug induced fantasy. "You heard me," Mulder allowed, and then stretched out as much as Krycek holding his hips would let him. "Hurry up before we both get arrested."
A heartbeat later, Krycek recovered enough to start pounding inside him again. Mulder winced as the friction...all the time pleasant, was beginning to become difficult as it dried and became sticky. The pain helped. It hurt, but with Krycek's body against him and the situation and the need he had to please Krycek...he couldn't stop himself. He grunted through the stuffing of the seat cushion, and dropped down to his elbows. Just before it turned really painful Krycek collapsed against him and rode him through his own orgasm, which triggered Krycek's release. It took a long time to separate their bodies, and Mulder couldn't hide the grunt of pain as Krycek pulled away and delicately put himself away. Mulder didn't even want to imagine what kind of mess Krycek's pubic hairs must have been in.
And Krycek never gave him a chance to find out. Not caring about the risks of infection, Krycek kissed the back of his cheek and opened the car door. Mulder didn't move right away, expecting the front door to open and Krycek to slide in, but by the time he thought to look around, he was alone.
And he had to sneeze.