This is pure self indulgence. My story arc that began with "Beer and Whine"
is becoming a full fledged novel. I keep growing fonder of the boys and
really, really want them to turn out fine!

Rated NC17 for boys doing stuff to boys, all in the bery best of taste of
course. Don't get inot it if that sort of stuff upsets you.

Disclaimer: I'm not getting paid for this, it's an act of love, but the
characters are not actually mine, they just sneak around to play when it's
dark.

Heartfelt thank yous go to Paula and Orithain, both of whom have made this a
better story than it was.

Summary: Fox is weakening, Alex is cuter than ever, and Jeffrey is yearning.

********************************

Cock Tales for Two

by Dr Ruthless

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is an old legend that the crocodile weeps real tears for his victim
before he devours him. I have not personally seen this happen, and hopefully
I never will, but the imagery is interesting. I look at the man lying
alongside me sleeping, and I wonder about his tears. Are they real? How will
I ever know until it's too late? He's betrayed me before. Do I have the
strength to hold off? Can I possibly allow him that kind of power over me
again?

He is sleeping quietly, his cheeks flushed and a little glaze of sweat
standing on his upper lip. Long, thick lashes curl on his cheeks. The widely
spaced, oddly innocent looking eyes lie hidden beneath the pale lids. His
dark hair, cut short, turns to fine down on his temples. It is hard for me
to resist the temptation to trace it with my fingertips. There is a furrow
between his eyebrows that I have seen crinkle up when he laughs, or crease
in anger. He lies on his tummy, his hand buried beneath the pillow, and it
appears that his dreams are kind, because he is wearing a curious little
half smile. More than anything else about him, that little smile makes my
heart pound as I watch him sleeping.

This morning he cooked my breakfast for me while I watched him. We had very
little sleep last night, but still he insisted on washing up before
suggesting that we both take a nap. It was strange, very strange to climb
into a bed beside another human being, and fall asleep with his arm around
me. Waking up, I discover that he was not a dream. He is here with me, like
it or not. I am still searching my soul, trying to decide if I can handle
this. Do I want the rough ride I know I'm in for, or would I sooner give up
the promise of intimacy, however pleasant it might prove to be, in order to
protect myself from the hurt I know will come with it?

If I let him, he will take my soul. My heart is already his and has been so
since I first met him. Loving him is a pain that chafes and abrades me, and
to which I have already developed calluses. The pain of his betrayals is not
so easy for me to bear. That is the sharp, tearing pain. That is the pain
like fire that burns white in the night and flashes through my dreams like
brushfire, not letting me sleep. I watch him, and God, how I want him!

He stirs, nuzzling into the pillow at first, turning his cheek into it the
way a baby would turn to the breast. His brow furrows, he frowns, and his
arm emerges to grope for something. His hand lights on my arm, and he scoots
forward towards me, his arm going around me as he presses up against my
side. His head comes to rest against my shoulder, and for a moment he is
quiet. I want to hold him. I want to run my tongue around his ear, kiss his
eyelids and suck the breath from his mouth. I settle for watching him, too
afraid to do anything but wait.

Another minute and I am aware of a change in his breathing. He wakes
quietly. One minute he is sleeping, warm, relaxed weight against my side,
the next, he is alert, poised for flight. His eyes are still closed, and he
does not look any different, but I feel his muscle tone and it tells me he
is assessing his position. His eyelids twitch once, and I know he is alert.

"Hi, are you feeling better? I know I am." His lids slowly rise to reveal
shining green eyes. Cat-like, he stretches, his stretch beginning somewhere
down at his feet and working its way up as he arches his spine, flexes his
shoulders and wrinkles up that nose. He yawns and snuggles up.

"Not a dream. Not a dream after all." He raises his head, and somehow he's
in the crook of my arm, head pillowed on my shoulder. He fits exactly.The
clock is telling me that it's afternoon now. 2 pm Christmas day and I'm in
bed with a sorry piece of human flotsam, trying to work out ways of keeping
my virtue and my sanity intact. Whoever said life was boring?

"Mulder, what do we have for dinner?" His husky voice startles me out of my
reverie. "It is Christmas you know, and I'm starving." I want to touch him,
but I don't want to set him off in another assault on my sexuality. I don't
think I could resist any further. I settle for tweaking his outrageous
little nose. Too late! He rolls over to face me, and my heart sinks.

//leaps//

"Don't, Krycek, please don't." I whisper, and he pauses, delicately tracing
my lips with one long finger. "I can't just leap into a relationship like
this with you of all people. I need time to work things out, and so do you."

"What's to work out? I want us to be together at last. You want me too, I
know you do. I'm so tired of all this sorry bullshit that keeps us apart.
I've wanted you since we were partners." His eyes look past me as he talks,
and I too can see the young, puppy-eager agent that was Alex Krycek, holding
out his hand to me, riding the hurt of my rebuff, adoration on his face.

Remembering his efforts to please me, his transparent joy at praise, I shake
my head.

"All of that, you were acting a part. You were sent to lead me down a false
trail. You were sent to betray me, and you did." I can hear the hurt in my
voice. How long will it take before he sees through me? How long before I'm
at his mercy?

"Mulder, Fox, I was sent to keep you from getting yourself killed. I
protected you. I kept you from harm. I couldn't save Scully, but I saved
you." He has fallen onto his back now, away from me, and my body cries out
in anguish as I lose the warmth of him against me. He has begun to talk, and
I should be non-judgmental. I should be calm. How can I be when I want to
scream at him that this is not what happened? I wait.

"Duane Barry got away from them. He shouldn't have been able to take Scully
like that, but they lost control of him. I had to keep you from getting
yourself killed, Fox. There was nothing you could have done, except die for
her." He sits up suddenly, leaning back against his hand. I look at the
other side of him, the sleek shoulder that descends only part way, vicious
scarring and useless stump where there was once beauty. Oh, God, Alex!

"What happened to my father, Krycek?" I'm trying to be calm. I'm trying to
stay focused. I want to grab him by the hair and drag his head down to my
mouth. He is still looking far away, beyond me, beyond the four walls here,
into an Alex that is long gone into the dark tunnel of time. I wait.

"He shot himself, Fox. I was there, I saw him do it. The plan was for you to
die when you came over to see him. I had been sent to make sure you would be
safe, and I was in his bathroom when he came in. He saw me, and knew he
wouldn't be able to carry out his orders. He shot himself and I had no
choice. I had to leave right then or be nailed for murdering him. At least I
knew you were safe, so I left." Time has slowed, my breathing is harsh and I
feel as if I've run for miles. His words are reverberating in my head like
beating drums. Do I dare to believe him? I roll over onto my stomach and put
my head in my hands. I can't think about this now. Everything in me wants to
believe him, but I don't, quite. Raising my head to look at him, his eyes
shine in the half-light. I file this away. I need to think about it.

"Alex, what is all this shit with Spender? Where did you get the photograph
of him? How?" I know it's trivial, but all of a sudden I need to know. He
gives a low laugh and turns to face me. He's come back to earth, and his
face is lively as he grins at me."Oh, that! I wondered if you were gonna ask
me about that." He chuckles and suddenly snuggles back down beside me,
claiming his place on my shoulder, and rubbing his cheek against it before
starting to speak.

"When I heard that you had lost your X-Files, I got mad. I knew of Jeffrey
Spender a little through an ex-employer of mine. He's been taking a lot of
interest in him, sponsoring him though Spender doesn't seem to know it.
Anyway, it seemed to me that I could kill two birds with one stone. I could
maybe help you get the X-Files back and stick a metaphorical knife into that
cancerous son of a bitch who used to be my boss. In a way, I feel sorry for
Jeffy. He's lonely too, and he'll do anything to feel loved. I figured that
you would be able to use the photos to get him off your back. I did it for
you." This takes some working out. I'm not sure what he's telling me here.

"How did you get him to pose for the photos?" I ask him, grinning as the
picture of Spender, leather-clad torso, collar round his neck, glorying in
horticulture rises up before my eyes.

"Oh, I abused him, mostly. He was desperate for it. He really wants to be
dominated. All I did was hurt him a little." He is still smiling,
maliciously now. His hand is drawing lazy circles on my chest as he confides
in me. "I picked him up in a bar one night. It was so easy. He must be
really lonely. I led him on a bit and then hurt him and delivered my
message. He lapped it up. I think he's got a crush on me."

"What did you do to him?" Why am I asking him? Why do I want to know?

//Come off it, Fox! You want to know because you love him too. He's a slut
and you want him.//

"Well, the first time, I let him blow me. He was pretty damn good too. Then
I inserted a blunt instrument into him and delivered my message. Told him to
give back the X-Files. Did he?" I gape at his matter-of-fact tone. He waits,
one eyebrow lifted in delicate inquiry. After a minute, I close my mouth
with a snap and shake my head.

"The little bastard! I need to pay him another visit. I wonder where I can
find a lobster on Christmas Day?" He spoils it by peeking at me through his
lashes to see how I have received his last utterance. As my jaw drops again,
he collapses in laughter.

"Oh, your face! You are so funny, Fox, so funny!" My grin surprises me. I
thought I was shocked by what he's told me, but it appears that I'm not.
Gradually, the humor of the idea of Alex stalking Spender with a lobster
sinks in, and I lose it. I roar with laughter, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Suddenly, his lips are there, against mine, and I'm not ready, not guarded.
I open my mouth to him, and our bodies come together easy and slow. My arms
go around him to hold him tight against me. His hand buries itself in my
hair, and I am lost now, dizzy with the scent of musk, overloaded by silk
soft lips glued to mine, wet tongue drawing ripples of sensation inside my
mouth. My laughter subsides as I put my whole life into that kiss. I want
him to know that I can reach wherever it is that we are headed. He will not
have to carry me.

He is getting hard as he presses against me. I am too. Thrills go through me
as we kiss and kiss, hungry mouths sliding wetly over each other as we
perform the dance of tongues. I can't deny that I want him, but this is too
much, too fast. Finally, I pull away, gasping. He presses a small kiss on
the corner of my mouth, nods, smiling to himself, and lays his head down on
my chest. His hand is still in my hair, stroking the back of my neck, behind
my ear, caressing me gently.

"Lobsters aside, Alex." He sniggers at this. "What did you do to get Spender
to pose for you?"

"Oh, that was last night. I was trying to think of something to get you for
Christmas, Fox. I went over to his apartment thinking I'd try to get him
into some silly situation for you. I didn't even know if he would let me in.
He's a sick fuck that's for sure. He really gets off on being whacked." I'm
interested. This is a side of Spender that doesn't show itself in the
office, not surprisingly.

"You beat him?" I'm fascinated now. This is even better than my video
collection. I'm getting hard thinking about the two of them together. He
knows it too. I see the eyes dip to my crotch, checking out the bulge
beneath my sweat pants. He disentangles his fingers from my hair, and my
stomach lurches as I see his hand wander idly down towards my groin. My
mouth is dry. I'd forgotten that this is a predator that I'm with.

"Yeah, I spanked him with my belt. He really got off on it. I made him a
little bit drunk too. Hell, I got pretty blind myself. I was thinking about
you, and everything seemed so hopeless. I was going to kill myself if you
hadn't listened to me. I'm so tired of being alone, so tired!" The last
sentence is spoken so quietly, I think it is meant for himself, rather than
for me. I know how he feels though. I feel that way too.

I realize that I am rapidly losing my self-control, so I rouse myself. I
pull away from the intimacy and get up, walking through into the kitchen to
forage for dinner. He's starving, he said so, and his appetites all seem to
be stronger than mine. I check in the freezer but can't find anything that
even approaches a festive meal.

He comes in as I'm performing triage on an elderly package of tofu, takes
one look, and shudders.

"How about I take you out for dinner? We can look on it as a first date?"
His face is so open, his eyes earnest, that I can't say no. I'm wondering
what he will wear to take me out. His clothes are grimy and tattered.

"Are you going to try and cram yourself into my clothes? Yours are just a
bit worse for wear." He blushes and turns back into the bedroom, gathering
together the sorry garments he arrived in.

"Unh Do you have a laundry? I could get them washed quickly." I point to
the door. "Down in the basement." My speech is short, curt. I'm feeling very
vulnerable, aware that I was very close to giving in to him scant moments
ago.

I want to make him suffer. He stands clutching his bundle, looking
miserable, and I relent. I hand him soap powder and a jar with quarters in
it.

"It's OK, Alex, I just need a few minutes to think. You're making me jump
through hoops here."

He flashes me a relieved grin, and heads off out of the door.

***********************

He is dressed at last in his own clothes, and they are clean once more.
Looking at him as we get ready to go out, I'm aware all over again of his
sensuality. He moves gracefully, the economy of his movements fluid and
beautiful. He uses his head so much to convey emotion. I watch him avidly,
drinking in the changes of expression that convey his feelings as we prepare
to go out. I hardly realize how much the sight of him warms me. As he puts
on his jacket and holds out his hand to me, he flashes me a grin.

"You do like me a little bit. I do have a chance, don't I, Fox?" I smile and
he takes my hand. As we pause while I lock up, he traces my cheek with his
fingertips, and I shudder. "You will love me. You will want me. You have
to." At this, the tight bud of desire lurking somewhere deep in my belly
suddenly flowers, a flood of warmth is unleashed to loosen my limbs and
trickle up my spine. My knees turn to jelly, and I lean on the doorframe,
hoping he hasn't noticed. Faint hope! He takes my key from me and locks the
door, and then takes my hand, turning the palm up to place a kiss within it,
tongue describing a lazy circle on my sensitive skin. Folding my fingers
over that kiss, he smiles again. His eyes never leave mine. I gulp.

"Krycek, the only way I will know if things can work between us is by
communication. We need to drop the secrets. If I am to trust you, there
can't be secrets any more, not like the ones between us now. You can keep on
pushing me for sex, and who knows, I might even give in, but if it's against
my will, you won't have gained anything. If I can't deal with loving you,
I'm going to hate you. Do you understand me." His eyes are drinking up my
words as they spill from my lips. He nods, and we turn to go downstairs.

***********************

"We need to go in my car, Fox." I jump. Lost in my own thoughts as I follow
him outside, it hasn't occurred to me that he has a car. I don't know why
this would be. My dealings with him since he ceased to be my partner have
all been conducted in the dark or in places far removed from real life. I
realize how very little I know about him. He knows how much I hate to give
up control to someone else. I hate to be driven.

"I hate to be driven; you know that." I'm not looking at him, not giving him
a chance to win me over with his puppy-dog expression.

"I promise to be quick, but I need to make a stop. I need to get some things
from my place. I'm not dressed for a night on the town." As I think about
this, it amazes me. He is going to let me see where he lives. He trusts me
with this, and I am aware of how much it must mean to him. I stop, stare at
him in wonder, and he punches my arm.

"No more secrets, remember?" I nod slowly and he gives a little snort of
laughter. "What? Did you think I spend my life lurking in back alleys when
I'm not driving you crazy? I promise you, I do have a place to live. I even
had a family, once upon a time." His voice trails off, and he is still for a
moment. On his face for one brief second there is a look of naked agony. It
flashes out from his eyes like ripples in a pond and is soon gone. If I
hadn't been looking at him right then, I would not have believed it possible
for him to look so desolate. I wonder what it is that he has lost to give
him so much pain.

He opens his car door, unlocking the passenger's side by flicking the
central locking mechanism. It's a small black Ford. There are hundreds of
them in Washington. His anonymity would be pretty well guaranteed in it.
There are no clues to his personality in here, no nodding dogs or cute
stickers, no carelessly tossed books, no candy wrappers. I look at him
dubiously, wondering how he can cope with only one arm, but he is busy
starting the engine, and I settle for fastening my seat belt.

******************************

He drives quickly, competently, and we pull up outside an old brownstone
that's only about a mile from where I live.

"Do you want to stay in the car? There're some CDs in the case there if you
like." I shake my head. I want to see where he lives. I want to know about
him at last. "You realise that once you've been inside my place, I'm going
to have to kill you?" He grins at me, and together we climb out of his car
and head into the building.

As he opens his door, I see that he is trying very hard to appear
nonchalant, but his shaking fingers and constant sideways glances through
those thick eyelashes give him away. He is nervous. This makes me happy, and
I touch his hand, stilling it as he tries to get his key into the lock.
Flashing me a rueful look, he opens the door and gestures for me to go in.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it surely wasn't this! There are
stark modern furnishings of black wood, on a hardwood floor that shows no
speck of dust. There are white walls, white drapes, white rugs on the floor,
and the walls are hung with black and white prints.

"Jeez, Krycek, isn't it hard to get the blood out of all this white?" He
gives me a dark look and ignores me.

The only splash of color I can see is his bookshelf. There, gaudy spines
show in regiments. His books are varied, A. A. Milne makes me raise my
eyebrows, as does Dr. Seuss. Travel books mingle with Science Fiction, and
on the bottom row lie "The Wealthy Barber", "The Prince", "Mein Kampf" and a
couple of books in Cyrillic script that I have no clues about. This is a
test! It has to be. Nobody is this complex. He's grinning as he watches me
take it all in. He's enjoying my discomfiture.

"Do you want to try and psychoanalyze me from here, or do you wanna see the
rest of my dark secrets?" His voice is very husky, and I can tell that he is
anxious about my response. I give up trying to decide what he wants me to
say and go for the nosy option.

"Show me everything you've got, Krycek. Leave me no illusions. I
particularly want to see where the bodies are hidden." This makes him
chuckle a little, and he grabs my hand, leading me down a passage at the
rear of the room. His doors are all closed. I smile as I file this
information away. It fits with the rest of his personality. Everything is
closed, everything guarded except against me. A small thrill coasts down my
spine as I realize just how much it is costing him to allow me into his
world.

Opening the door, he pulls me through into his bedroom. This is more
colorful, and I'm fascinated by the fact that on his bed there's an old,
battered teddy bear. A computer sits on a desk in the corner, and his bed is
covered in a red and blue checked comforter. The furniture is blond wood,
and there are a couple of magazines slung by the bedside. A stereo system is
placed to maximize its sound for someone in the bed, and he has CDs stacked
in a tower, more on the floor next to the stereo, and a couple on the bed
itself. The closet door is of course closed. He gestures to me to take a
seat, and then heads for the closet, opening the door and running his hands
through a selection of suits and other garments. He makes his choice, and
then begins to change, stripping off jeans and shirt without any
self-consciousness. How can he be so open about his body, when his soul is
so well hidden?

Watching him, I sit down on his bed and idly fidget with the items on the
nightstand. There's a photograph in a frame, and I pick it up, trying to
decide who the people shown might be. A very beautiful young woman wearing a
soft white dress stands beside a swing on which a small boy is whooping with
laughter. The woman's dark hair is streaming in the breeze, and the child is
looking up at her as he swings. I call to Alex, who is fastening his shirt.

"Krycek, is this you?" I hold out the photo. He looks stricken. His face
closes, and he turns away, fiddling with a pair of pants, pulling them on,
searching through the closet for a jacket and transferring keys, cash and
things like that to his pockets. "Krycek? What's wrong? Are you OK?"

"No, it isn't...wasn't me." He is standing with his back to me, his face
hidden, but I can hear misery in his voice. "That's my...my wife, and my
son." Turning to me, he glares at me defiantly, that chin of his raised,
head held high and arrogant, shining water in his eyes, spilling to trickle
down one cheek. "They're both dead now."

I feel stunned. Everything I've believed to be true about Alex Krycek is
quicksand shifting beneath me, and I don't know how to deal with this new
revelation.

"Alex, God, Alex! How? I mean, what...?" I move towards him, and when I
reach him, I put my arms around him. He is trembling and I can tell that he
would run if he could. I pull his head down to rest on my shoulder and lay
my cheek on his hair. We stand like that for a long moment before he pulls
away, placing a careful kiss on the angle of my jaw as he goes.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've discussed them with anyone. It
still hurts sometimes." He looks tired and somehow older as he talks. He's
been dressing himself in his favourite black, but his dress pants and jacket
are raw silk, his shirt is silk also, and he wears shining loafers on his
feet. The earring still flashes from his ear, and he looks wonderful. "Have
you seen enough of the inner me? Do you need to see the rest right now, or
will it keep until after we eat? It will still be here tomorrow." I search
his face, but he has put away his emotions once more. He has closed the door
onto them as if they were a room in this strange place he calls home.

"Let's go eat then. I wouldn't want to keep a starving man from his last
meal!" Gratefully, he smiles at me, and we leave, ensuring that every door
is carefully closed behind us.

*****************************

Once more he drives. I'm getting used to it, and as long as I watch him,
rather than the road, I don't get the urge to grab the wheel from him. We
pull up in a parking lot and head for a small doorway down into a cellar
bar. There is music, and a small dance floor. Couples are sitting around at
tables, and Alex obviously knows many of them. People wave to him, and the
maitre d'. greets him by name, leading us to the far corner, to a secluded
booth with bench seats. I slide in, expecting Alex to slip in facing me, but
he surprises me once again, sitting down beside me and moving close to press
himself up to me.

"Alex, is this a gay bar?" He nods, smiling wickedly.

"Yeah, but the food here is great. You won't regret eating here." This is
the cue for a leather-clad waiter to approach us, menus in hand.

"Hi guys, can I get you anything from the bar?" Alex raises an eyebrow in my
direction. I nod.

"Get us a couple of beers please, Paul. We'll order in a minute." The
fugitive from the Village People zooms off to fulfill our every whim, and
Alex turns to me. He looks reckless. His face is flushed with excitement,
and his eyes shine brightly. Gone is the agony I saw in his bedroom. This is
a different man entirely. This Alex I see now is the one who does not give a
damn. This Alex is the dangerous one, the gambler.

"OK, truth or dare time. I'll tell you if you tell me. Do you want to go
first, or shall we spin a bottle?" I'm a bit taken aback. Why is he making
it into a game? What will he gain from this?

"Do you mean the party game? I'm not sure what the rules are." He runs his
fingers down my sleeve, stopping as he reaches the back of my hand and
tracing a small design on it with his fingers.

"It's easy enough. Say that you start. I choose truth. You ask me a
question. If I answer it truthfully, it's then my turn. If I can't or won't
answer it, you can demand a forfeit, make me do something for a dare. If I
choose the dare, you just go from there. If I can't or won't do either, I
have to take a drink. I think that's how it's played. Do you want to go
first?" I nod. There are so many questions I want answering. I can't even
begin to list them all. We are however in a public place, and I wonder why
he's chosen this venue to play the game in.

"OK, Alex, truth or dare?"

"Truth!" Paul comes back with two beers, and deposits them in front of us.
Alex nods to him without taking his eyes from mine. His expression is
complex. I can see hope and fear mingled, along with something else I can't
quite place.

"What happened to your wife and son?" It's clear that he was expecting this.
His eyes darken, but he begins to answer me very readily.

"It's a long time ago now, Fox. Ten years is a long time. I failed to do
something that was required of me, and they were killed, shot in front of me
by a man I have tried to avoid working for ever since. That's when I learned
my first lesson. Never let anyone get close to you unless you don't care if
you lose them or not. That's why I've never tried to have a relationship
with anyone else until now. That's why I play with people." He stops
speaking and looks at me defiantly. "Truth or dare, Fox."

I'm horrified. What will he ask me to compare with the things he has shared
with me.

"Ummm...Truth." He smiles a kind smile and his hand briefly squeezes my leg.

" Why did what I was telling you about my visit to Spender excite you?" I
don't know what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. I furrow my brow,
trying to think of an answer. "Truth now, Fox, or you have to pay a
forfeit."

"I don't know. It's the thought of you and him together that's exciting. It
excited me to think that you would go to those lengths to get something for
me, even if it was something as twisted as that. It's really exciting to me
to think of you dominating him, making him beg you for something. I found
myself wanting to watch you. You are beautiful, you know." He leans in, and
before I know it, his lips find mine again. I turn to allow his mouth to
seal itself to mine, and his tongue slides in to work its magic, running
over my teeth and slicking itself against my tongue. His hand grips my arm
painfully, and he moans into my mouth. "Truth or dare, Alex?"

"Truth, of course!" He smiles wolfishly. "No secrets, not between us, not
now." He licks my lips, and for a second, I close my eyes, trying to gather
my thoughts.

"Why do you want me? You were married. You didn't have homosexual
tendencies?" I can see that he's been expecting this too.

"I'm bisexual, always have been, but Irina was special. I loved her a lot.
When Alex was born, I thought I would be true to the two of them for the
rest of my life. It turned out, I was only true to them for the rest of
theirs. I won't ever have another child. I don't even notice women any more.
When I met you, you were so cranky and mean to me. I can usually get what I
want by being charming. I'm an expert at it. Your lack of friendship was a
shock to my system and I disliked you. Once I got to know you, I realized
how amazing you were and worked really hard to earn your respect. It was
only after it was too late that I realized that what I wanted from you was
your love. My heart had been dead for so long that I didn't even notice that
I loved you until it was too late. You mean so much to me that I don't want
to live any more if I have to do it alone." He drinks from his glass and
sits for a moment, head bowed, then he takes a breath.

"Truth or dare, Fox?" I swallow.

"Truth. Let's stay with truth for now." I don't know what's coming, but I
can see he's laying himself bare for me. I can do no less.

"Why aren't you in a relationship? What's happened in your life that broke
you down?" I have to tell him. I haven't ever talked to anyone about this
stuff. I have never even mentioned it to Scully. Maybe I should just chicken
out, take the dare. It's the thought of what he might require me to do that
sets me off answering him.

"We're more alike than you know. I was married too." His eyes widen. I have
surprised him. To tell the truth, I have surprised myself. "I had a
disastrous relationship while I was still at University in Britain. After
that I was very wary of getting close to anyone, but when Diana and I first
got together and started working on the X-Files, I thought I was in love. We
got married, and then I realized my mistake. She didn't want me, she wanted
what I had. Now she's got it. I never really thought about men, not until
you. I've avoided relationships whenever possible. This works just fine for
me." I hold up my right hand, and he takes hold of it, raising it to his
lips and sucking my fingers into his mouth before running his tongue over
the tips.

"Alex, can we stop this for a minute? I can't do this level of intimacy any
more. I just want to think for a while." The hectic color in his cheeks and
the shine of his eyes daunts me. He laughs.

"If you can't handle it, I get to dare you. I get to dare you. Kiss me." I
must admit that I'm a little surprised this is all he wants.

"I've been kissing you...."

"No, Baby! I've been kissing you. Now, I want you to kiss me. Kiss me so
that it counts. Come on." I look at him. His pupils are dark as his
excitement shines through. His lips are moist, curved and slightly open,
revealing white teeth and the tip of a red tongue. His lashes are impossibly
long and thick. How can he open his eyes with the weight of his lashes? His
absurd little nose is close to my lips, and I plant a little kiss on the
tip. "That does not count! That's just a peck. Come on, kiss me, and I'll
call it quits." His breath is sweet on my cheek. I look into his eyes, and
I'm lost again. My hands go up to his face, and I lay the palms of my hands
along his cheeks. Holding him like that, his lashes flutter and fall, his
lips part and I can hear his breathing change. I drink in the sight of him
exposed in his need, and then slowly, impossibly slowly, savoring every last
second of my power over him, I lean forward to bring my lips to his. He
gasps as he feels them touching him. For a second I revel in this effect I'm
having on him, and then I'm swept into sensation as my lips press down while
my tongue enters his mouth and searches for the sweetness within. My fingers
are moving to bury themselves in his hair, and his head is bent back as he
responds to me the way a drowning man might respond to his meeting with
death. His hand slips under my jacket, feeling its way tentatively down
around my waist. My belly leaps and flutters as we stay pressed together. My
eyes close, and I lose myself in the feeling he is igniting within me. The
waiter, chains clanking, chooses that particular moment to come back and
take our order, and at last we pull apart.

"You ready to order yet, Alex?" He chirps, and Alex blushes.

"Ummm, give me a minute would ya please, Paul? I'm a little flustered here."
The waiter saunters away, grinning at us. I quickly grab the menu. I'm not
used to this kind of exposure and am embarrassed. He seems to be composed.
He leans on me to look at my menu, and I feel the heat of him. He decides on
the roast turkey, and I go for the vegetarian lasagna, and we finally get
the grinning Paul off our case. I drink my beer and watch Alex, who is
leaning against me, stroking, touching, gentling me with his fingers, a
dreamy expression on his face. Of its own accord, my arm goes around him,
and we are finally a couple. He sighs and nestles there.

There is nothing that we need to say, so we are silent, touching and being
touched, thinking our own thoughts, then Alex sits up straight and indicates
with his head that there is something he wants me to see.

Agent Jeffrey Spender has just come in and is sitting not ten feet away from
us.

He hasn't seen us. We are partially concealed by the partitions, and it is
dark in our little corner. Spender sits with his back to us, and he is
morosely drinking a beer. I've only ever seen the suited G-man Spender
before, so I'm interested to see him here in his off duty apparel. He's
wearing a black turtle neck sweater and blue jeans that are so faded that
they appear to be almost white. His jacket is black leather, and he is
wearing some kind of strapping around his arms and neck. His jacket is black
leather, and he is wearing some kind of leather strapping around arms and
neck. I've never really noticed him before. He is a gray man, faceless in
the day to day routines of work. The overwhelming thing I always notice when
I look at him is his apparent dissatisfaction. What he has to be
dissatisfied about appears to vary, but he is a bitter man. Looking at him
now, I see that he is brooding and drinking fast. I don't want him to see
us. I don't want trouble right now. Everything is too new to me. I want to
sit here with Alex, my Alex, and just soak up the feel of him next to me.

"Do you want to play? I can show you how if you like!" Alex is speaking next
to my ear in a husky voice more intimate than any whisper. I turn to him,
noting his excitement. He believes he is offering me some kind of gift. His
eyes are shining, and his grin is wide and infectious. He is twined around
me, pressed close to my side, and his head rests on my shoulder.

//What the hell happened to us? How did we both get so fucked up? He is so
scared of love that he will give himself to everyone who comes along, while
I fear it so much that I can't give myself to anyone. How will we ever live
through this?//

"Alex, leave him alone tonight. Nobody should hurt on a night like this. Let
him go." I lower my head and kiss him again, knowing that it will divert him
from his prey. I have one arm around his shoulders, my fingers trailing up
and down his right arm as I descend on him with my mouth. My other hand goes
to cup his chin, turning it up to accept my mouth on his. When our lips
meet, he loses himself in the warmth and slippery wetness of it. I drop my
hand to seek out the heated pulse inside his jacket, stroking my thumb
across his nipple as our tongues tease, and finally pushing it through under
his arm to grip him around the waist, pulling him in as close as I can.

Of course, just as we are really getting into it, and he is uttering little
gasps and grunts that tell how good he is feeling, Paul decides that he is
going to serve us our meal. We don't immediately pull apart, but I feel Alex
quiver under my hands, and then he is laughing, laughing into my mouth, and
I have to release him.

Paul's got the cutlery laid out on the table, the plates set, and is waiting
with his sardonic smile for us to be sufficiently composed to notice. Alex
has lost it. I love the fact that he can get the giggles like this, but I
don't want to get us noticed. I shush him, and we look at Paul.

"You won't be wanting dessert then?" Paul comments, and Alex starts laughing
again. I thank him politely, hoping he will go away, but Alex keeps on
laughing, hiccuping now as he lays his head down on his arms. Paul has his
arms folded, and he is watching in evident amusement. "Come on, Alex, are
you going to tell us who your new friend is?"

I'm obviously not to take part in this discussion, so I start on my food.
Alex finally raises his head, and there are tears of laughter on his face.

"Fuck off and find your own, Paul. This one is mine, now and forever mine."
Paul bridles in a show of mock indignation, and he clanks off, hardware
jingling. Alex looks at me defiantly. "You are mine you know. Mine for the
rest of time."

""Better eat something before we go then, Sport, that sounds like a long
ride." I ruffle his hair, and he nestles into my hand as I do so. He picks
up his fork and is beginning to work on his turkey when a shadow falls over
the table. I look up and see Spender standing over our table.

"Hi Jeff. Wanna join us?" Alex is unconcerned, munching away at assorted
vegetables. Spender's face is a study in pain imperfectly hidden.

"Hello, Sasha. I just came to tell you, I know who you are now." He is
leaning over Alex, my Alex. I raise my head, and he finally recognizes me.
"Oh, God! You! Always you!" This is spat out at us. "Do you know just who it
is you've got there? Do you know he's a criminal? Do you know what he'll do
to you, if you let him? We should take him in. He's a wanted man." He looks
so distressed it's impossible not to feel sorry for him, but he's not going
to take Alex, not unless he kills me first.

"I told you who I was, Jeffy!" The scorn in Alex's voice makes me blink.
"Did you think I would lie about something so unimportant? Sit down and have
a beer. I'll talk to you after I eat." To my amazement, Spender sits, and
Alex continues to work his way through his food. He is sitting opposite us,
his head down. He punches the palm of his hand repeatedly, and the
frustration in his face hits me like a physical blow. Alex studies him as he
sits, and then turns to me. The look in his green eyes makes me shiver. He
grabs my face and kisses me hard, his teeth bruising my lips, and his tongue
lashing. My cock leaps to attention, and suddenly I don't want to eat any
more. He's showing me off, as if I was a new jacket or something. I don't
want him to do this, or do I?

//Damn right I do, Jeffy! You've got my X-Files, but I've got your man!//

I look at Spender, and he looks back at me. Nobody says anything at all
until Alex finishes his meal, laying the fork down. He picks up his glass
and drains it. His eyes are glassy hard surveying Spender, and I remember
the feeling when he looked at me like that, in another lifetime. I pity the
sad, bitter man sitting opposite me, but I'm not going to share with him.
There's nothing I wouldn't do at this moment to keep what I now realize I
have found.

"Jeffy! You can arrest me, but if you do, you are never ever gonna get your
sweet cheeks spanked again." He's grinning like some demented Robin Hood
figure, and I'm astounded because Spender's face changes. There's hope in
it. He is yearning at my man. I put my hand on the back of Alex's neck and
stroke with my thumb, just to remind him that I am still here with him. He
arches into my caress like a cat and gives me a sweet, 'who, me?' look,
before turning his attention onto Spender again. "So, big, bad Agent
Spender, what's it to be? Instant gratification, or the long term view?"

Spender hangs his head and mumbles something that makes Alex smile. He
slides out of the seat and grabs Spender roughly by the hair. Jerking his
head up, the two are eye to eye for a minute, Spender's face ashamed and
needy, Alex's wild-eyed and challenging. Then Alex pulls the other man's
face up to his, coming down hard on his mouth with his own. It lasts only
for a couple of seconds, before he drops Spender, jerking his head away from
him contemptuously, yanking at the other man's curly hair as he does so.
Then he holds out his hand to me.

I follow him out, and he tosses money on the counter, waves to Paul, who
shrieks across the room to us that we should have a good dessert. He doesn't
glance back, but I do. Spender is sitting, his face like one of the damned,
and there is the merest trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Alex
takes my hand, and together, we strut out, love binding our hands together
as tightly as if it were rope.

*************************************

Without any particular haste, we stroll handfasted down to the parking lot
where his car is waiting. He unlocks the passenger door, and then pushes me
up against the car, leaning his body against mine, pressing his groin into
me so I can feel how hard he is. He cups my ass with his hand and pulls me
closer, and his lips go to my neck where he sucks and nibbles along from my
jaw to my ear. The tingling of his moist kisses plays counterpoint to the
thrusting pressure on my dick. I want him so much now. I know he has won.

After a minute, I pull away from his warmth and stand, panting.

//Feel like a fucking stag at bay!//

He catches my hand and brings it up to his lips, running his tongue lightly
over my fingertips, and then pulling it down to his crotch, where he presses
it against the hardness of his cock.

"You did it, Fox. I've been like this all day. God, Fox, I love you so
much." I can't see. My eyes are full of tears. I grope for him blindly,
pulling him in and pressing myself up and down him from lips to knees. I
hold him so tightly I think I've hurt him. He coughs a little, but when I
relinquish my hold a little, he protests. Mouth on mouth we remain, each
trying to join the other inside his skin.

"Are you coming home with me tonight?" I ask him, knowing that if his answer
is no I will tear him shrieking, limb from limb.

"Try and stop me." He husks, and his eyes are huge.

We climb into his car and head home.

************************************

Stepping out of his car outside my apartment, I can feel a liquid surging in
my belly, and my legs feel heavy. When I cast a sidelong look at him and see
that he is watching me, a stampede of many legged creatures begins somewhere
just north of my cock, and I'm trembling, knowing that tonight he and I will
be making love. Already I can feel his hands on me, and the weight of his
glance is sending shivers down me, filling my spine with warm, sweet
molasses, making it hard to breathe comfortably. He moves to my side, and
together we head for the elevator and the privacy we need so much now.

The door opens at last, and we fall through it, turning to each other as I
kick it shut. He is golden in the lamplight, the sheen of black silk
contrasting sharply with the gold of his skin. I bear down on him, pressing
him against the door as I unbutton his shirt, listening to his harsh
breathing. His eyes are closed, his face turned up and his neck arched back
like a flower greeting the sun. I know it's my mouth that he's greeting, and
I lower it to him, my tongue running through to meet his as we search out
the blind sensations inside each other. His tongue swirls around mine
stirring up the electricity that surges and tingles from mouth to groin, and
his lips slide over me easy and slow like silk on silk. I feel those
creatures inside me again, dancing their demented fandango. His shirt
buttons are finally opened, and I push shirt and jacket down off his
shoulders. My hands find his nipples, and I roll them in my fingertips
before my lips travel down from mouth to neck, from neck to chest, nibbling,
licking and nipping at his skin. I taste the slightly salty tang of his
arousal, and my mouth closes on a nipple, suckling and kissing it while he
leans back against the door, eyes closed, moaning slightly. My fingers go to
the fastenings of his prosthesis, and it drops unheeded to the ground. He is
mine, and I can do with him, as I like. I nip hard, and hear him yelp, then
chuckle. I start work on the buckle of his belt, sliding my hands down the
length of his thighs, smoothing the fabric of his pants as they fall to lie
around his ankles. He is naked now, and I drop to my knees, amazed at the
beauty of him all over again. His penis is standing straight and tall, tiny
droplets on the tip. I open my lips and touch it with my tongue, nodding
with satisfaction when he gives a breathy little cry. I lick, tasting his
moisture and adding my own, then I take hold of it, squeeze it briefly and
feed it into my mouth. I'm not sure how to do this, but he seems to feel
something. I suck and feel it pulse, jump, and his hand twines into my hair.

"Fox, oh my God, Fox!"

I suck, my fingers stroking around his heavy sac, squeezing his ass, pulling
him into my mouth. His legs part as much as they can, and he lies back
against the door, sobbing for breath, while his cock jerks again. He's
trying to pull my head away, but I swallow, swallow again as the drool runs
from the corner of my mouth, and he gives a forlorn little cry and comes
into my mouth, back arched, hand clutching my hair and hips bucking wildly.

As his penis slowly deflates, I tease at it with my tongue, licking it
clean, and finally, reluctantly, allow it to fall from my mouth. Alex falls
to his knees in front of me and captures my mouth. He kisses me hard, tongue
thrusting and swirling, then moves to kiss my eyes, licking the line of my
jaw, and half sobbing, drops his head to suckle my neck. There we stay for
several minutes, holding each other, content to be in each other's arms.

Finally, Alex pulls himself up and wordlessly extends his hand to me.
Stepping out of his pants, he leads me to my bed, where he prompts me to
take off my clothes, pulling nervously at my jacket, and taking each garment
to fold as I remove it. Naked and quivering, I wait for him. He stands back,
staring at my body, his face flushed and his eyes dark pools with no iris
showing. Slowly he runs his hand over my belly, down to touch my cock. I
gasp. This time it's going to happen. He's going to make me come. He's going
to make love to this body of mine, and I'm going to let him. My knees grow
weak at the thought, and I sit down very suddenly on the bed.

Joining me, he catches my face in his hand and pulls me back against him,
turning my face up to him. Once again our mouths collide, and his hand
wanders down over my chest, tickling and tweaking as it goes. As his hand
strays to my groin and finds my erection, he moans.

"Fox, let me love you. I want to so much."

My answer to him is to put my hand over his, closing it around my prick. A
jolt of lightning zaps through it, and I whimper. He strokes me hard, smooth
hand on hot flesh, driving the sensations from his hand, along my cock, to
cluster in the sac behind, where they pool in a sweet, sticky, flickering
ecstasy, summer wildfire, waiting for tinder.

I'm close, so close, and he is nipping, licking, gently biting my skin, hand
sliding on me relentlessly. I can feel the surge as my orgasm gathers, when
he lets go. My head rolls from side to side, and I moan.

"It's OK, Fox. I'm going to make you feel so good, just wait a minute." He
moves down the bed, and as he takes his tongue to the end of my penis,
licking around the ridged head, I cry out. His hand presses my legs apart,
and his finger presses around the tightness of my anus, circling, dipping,
circling, and then pressing home. His finger pushes into me, and I'm
frowning, when all of a sudden I feel something new. Oh God. Whatever it is,
he finds it again, and as I yell his name, his mouth engulfs me. That finger
probes, rubbing and flicking against whatever it is that he is touching. The
wildfire ignites, and I'm burning in the sweet, hot tingling pleasure that
runs through me, filling my bones with liquid honey, and spurting from me as
I come, screaming.

He drinks from me. I lie, too exhausted to move, gazing at him in wonder. He
squirms up to lie along side of me, and I open one eye, looking at him with
as much of a smile as I can manage given my total loss of all voluntary
movement. He is grinning like a fool and turns out the light before he
cuddles up to me. Finally I find my voice.

"Thank you. Thank you, love." His gentle kiss floats on my lips like water
lilies on a pool.

"Thank you for letting me in, Fox. Thank you."

We sleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

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