Rated: NC17 for M/M naughty bits and I'm glad, hear me? Glad!

Disclaimer: These boys are the property of 1013, and have not been looked
after properly. I'm trying to give them hints.

Plot: There's a plot? Well.... The "Quartet Infernale" challenge has Alex
gaining a new image. I am very flattered to be writing in the same forum as
3 of my heroines of slash.

Beta provided by Orithain, who truly knows a comma even when it's hiding:
Nicole who is attempting to rid me of my accent: and Paula who makes me
think. Frankie and Aries were in there giving immoral support and I hope it
lives up to the promise.

Spoilers....Terma, maybe SR319....not really I don't think.

Feedback: Yes please, I live for it.

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

Turncoat/Changeling

by Dr. Ruthless

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

Fox Mulder was cold, tired, dirty, wet and suffering from strange twinges of
cramp. He had been crouched in his corner behind the garbage and the boxes
for what seemed like forever. He was in the only adequate place of
concealment in the vicinity, and he didn't even dare breathe in case bits of
him poked out around the edges. Above his head, the gutters were in a state
of disrepair that meant there was a stubborn trickle of rain unerringly
finding the back of his neck. His jeans had long since become waterlogged,
and he was kneeling in something squishy that he didn't want to think about.

His mysterious informant had left him cryptic messages several times over
the past week. He knew that something was going to happen here, he just
didn't know what. He was, however, sure that it would be a good idea to stay
out of sight There was no movement close by. Outside the alley the
occasional car still passed by despite the lashing rain and the lateness of
the hour. Mulder gritted his teeth and wondered why the dark underbelly of
society always met in garbage studded back alleys. Why couldn't they meet in
comfort at the Playboy Club or even the local greasy spoon?

His left leg was asleep, and he wished he could get up and walk about. Hell,
he wished he could join his left leg. Dammit! It was 2am, and he was fed up.

The headlights of a car suddenly threw the alley into sharp relief, giving
the shadows razor edges, and leaching the color from everything. Mulder was
alone in a drab world of grey, black and yellow. As he waited, a large,
beat-up truck was slowly pulling up in the space beside his hiding place. He
could see at least two men inside, and as he watched, another vehicle pulled
up behind it. Mulder could not see it, but he heard the crunch of tires, and
then the dull thunk as a car door was slammed telling him that the occupant
was out and moving to meet his associates. Mulder could not see who was out
there in the gloom and could only hear snatches of the conversation. He
mentally snarled a number of very satisfying curse words and then froze as
one of the men on the other side of the car began to speak.

"This is from the Smoker. You're to see that it gets delivered without
witnesses."

Mulder did not know the voice of the man speaking, but he would know it
again, that was for sure. There was a mumble in response to the first
speaker. Mulder could not hear what was being said, and he very slowly began
to get up. His intention was to creep around the truck that was obscuring
his view and see if he could get closer to the action. The first speaker was
talking again.

"If he gets in the way, kill him. The Smoker is very concerned about his
constant interference." The voice was cold, and Mulder was more determined
than ever to see who was taking part in this ominous exchange.

As he rose stealthily to his feet, gun in hand, his left leg, now tingling
with pins and needles, gave way beneath him, and he slipped. The boxes and
trashcans flew everywhere and any chance of remaining hidden suddenly ceased
to exist.

"Fuck!" He had let his gun fall in the frantic attempt to keep his balance
and dropped back to his knees in an attempt to recover it. The men behind
the truck, having heard the crashing and banging, were reacting. Mulder
heard a car start up and pull away. As he got his hands on his pistol once
more, a tall, heavy set man in denims rounded the hood of the truck and
started towards him, gun at the ready. Mulder knew that he had seconds left
rather than minutes and rolled desperately as a shot rang out. The man in
front of him jerked and fell backwards, but his companion had now rounded
the front of the vehicle and was pointing yet another gun straight at
Mulder. The man fired, and for a moment the puzzled agent thought his shot
had gone wide. He fired his own weapon, and the second man threw his arms
wide, took two staggering steps, and slumped down onto the filthy pavement.
There was a crashing from behind Mulder, and then he felt a sudden blow to
his back that knocked him sprawling in the garbage once more.

For a second he was dazed, but as he pushed himself up, recovering his
errant gun yet again, he could see that it was a man who had struck him, and
that whomever it was now lay face down in the slime. He had been lying
concealed within the very pile of boxes Mulder had used to hide behind. He
must have been there for the whole time that Mulder had been waiting, close
enough to touch if Mulder had only been aware of his presence. His blood ran
cold, and he cautiously approached the fallen man, putting out his foot to
nudge him, holding his gun steadily on him.

"Freeze, FBI!" Even as he spoke the words, he felt silly. This person was
not going anywhere. He lay in a rapidly spreading pool of blood, and only
the spastic twitching of his right hand gave away the fact that he still
lived.

Mulder was very aware that this man, whoever he was, had saved his life. He
had blown his own cover to shoot the man who had come so close to blowing
Mulder's brains out. The least he could do was to help him now. Mulder knelt
yet again, his knees sinking into decaying fruit, old, soggy cardboard and
water. He could see only a greasy woolen hat, partially covering a head of
long, thick, dark hair. The wet hair clung to the other man's face,
obscuring all but the end of a nose. Mulder, mystified, rolled the man over
carefully, and his blood sang in his ears as he finally recognized his
savior.

Alex Krycek lay in his own blood. His clothes were sodden and dirty, his
hair was hanging in wet strings down onto his shoulders, and he had a beard.
It was the kind of beard that made Mulder think of Billy goats, or ZZ Top,
or a certain fungal culture he had managed to grow in his fridge one time
when he had stored an open can of partially eaten beans. He had a hole in
his left shoulder and from the sounds of his breathing, he was rapidly going
into shock.

Mulder thought hard. Checking the dash of the truck by his side, he spotted
the keys still dangling from the ignition. He felt for Krycek's pulse. It
was rapid and weak. Mulder looked for a way of getting him off the ground
and into the truck. There was no space for a man to lie flat out in the cab,
so with a grunt and a heave, Mulder raised his stricken arch-enemy in his
arms and deposited him in the rear of the truck with a bundle of sacks, two
spare tires and a propane tank.

Lacking a blanket with which to cover him, Mulder threw sacks over him.

"Hang on, Krycek, I'll get you to the hospital." Mulder wasn't sure if his
fallen charge could hear him or not. His skin was livid under the light from
the truck. He was turning away to get into the cab when the barest whisper
reached him.

"No, can't...hospital..no."

Sighing, Mulder reached for his cell phone.

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

The drive to his apartment was fast. Mulder pushed the asthmatic old vehicle
as hard as he dared; however, the suspension on the truck was not the best,
and the rain had increased in its fury. As he pulled up at the door, he
could see that Scully was already there. Leaving the door of the truck wide
open, he ran to where she was waiting, and as she climbed out of her car, he
led her over to the truck where Krycek lay.

"Mulder, we have to get him out of this weather, or he's going to die from
hypothermia and shock. He really needs to be in a hospital." Scully as usual
was as sharp as her scalpel. She had not wanted to come out in the middle of
the night to aid Krycek, of all people, but now she was here, he was her
patient, and she would do her best for him.

Mulder handed her his keys, and with a sigh, he scooped up the unconscious
man, threw him over his shoulder, and staggered after her as she led the way
to his apartment.

Arriving in the dry, warm apartment, Mulder laid his burden down on a
plastic tablecloth that Scully had spread on the floor. The man lay
unmoving, his wound bleeding sluggishly, the area around his mouth blue. His
pulse was thready and erratic. Mulder looked at Scully, unsure of what to do
that would help.

"Mulder, get him out of those wet clothes first. We need to warm him up. I
can't start probing for bullets in that wound until he's a bit more stable."

Mulder grunted his acquiescence and started to remove the filthy clothes
Krycek was wearing. The hat went first, rapidly followed by soggy sneakers
and socks. Then Mulder began to tackle the canvas coveralls that the other
man was wearing. The zipper went the length of his torso, and Mulder had to
go and search for a knife that would slice through the fabric before he
succeeded in cutting away the arms and peeling the disgusting garment off
him. Krycek moaned, but did not return to consciousness as Mulder cut
through the thin, black T-shirt, laying bare Krycek's smooth chest and
revealing the oozing bullet wound in his shoulder. Straps crossed Krycek's
chest and shoulder, and as he unfastened them, pulling them away with the
T-shirt, Mulder suddenly realized, with a certainty that pierced him like a
stiletto and made him want to vomit, that Krycek's left arm was artificial.
His blood ran cold for a minute, and he knew without doubt that he was
partly to blame for this man's mutilation. Mulder turned away and put his
head down between his knees as a wave of faintness washed over him.

Scully was working on Krycek's shoulder, washing the site of his injury with
antiseptic. With a frown, she motioned to Mulder to hurry up and get Krycek
warm. Mulder turned back to his task, unfastening the man's worn blue jeans
and grabbing the ankles to yank them off as fast as he could. He wore no
underwear and finally lay naked on Mulder's tablecloth.

Mulder laid a comforter over the waxy whiteness of Krycek's body, but not
before he had committed the sight of him to his memory. Krycek was
beautiful. Chafing the unconscious man's feet, he looked at Scully.

"Would it help to use hot water, Scully? Maybe put him in a bath?" Scully
shook her head. She had begun to probe the wound with a horribly sharp
looking pair of forceps and suddenly pulled out the flattened piece of metal
that had made the hole in Krycek's shoulder. Krycek moaned, and moved his
head from side to side restlessly. Scully swiftly began to clean up the
wound, dusting it with antibiotic powder, and then stitching it quickly and
carefully.

"You're going to have to clean him off somehow, Mulder. He needs to be in
bed, and he's filthy: in fact you both are. Whatever have you been doing?"
As Mulder opened his mouth to tell her, she switched attention once more as
Krycek regained consciousness.

"What happened? Why am I here?" The smoky voice was barely audible as he
tried to articulate through dry lips. "Hurts... Need to warn Mulder."

Mulder moved forward into Krycek's field of vision and spoke reassuringly.
"It's OK, Krycek. We're both OK. Scully's fixing you up. You'll be just as
good as new if you can let her finish off there."

Krycek tried to struggle upright, and Mulder leaned forward to place a
restraining hand on his chest. "Hold on there, man. You can't go anywhere
like that. Let us fix you up first, then you can go with my good wishes."
The injured man subsided once more but lay, eyes feverish, looking about him
as if searching for a bolt hole.

Scully had finished her artwork on Krycek's shoulder and had taped gauze
over the neatly stitched injury. She took his temperature and pulse and then
appeared to consider.

"I think you'd better try to get him in the bathtub. We need to get him
clean at least, and I'm sure he's strong enough now. He's covered in
garbage. Heaven knows what kind of infections the two of you are harboring
on your skin." She looked down at Krycek.

"We're going to try and make you more comfortable, Krycek. You should feel
much better in a few minutes. Try and hang in for a little while longer.
OK?" Taking his cue from her words, Mulder went into the bathroom to run a
bath.

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

Between the two of them, Scully and Mulder had managed to get Krycek into
the tub, and he was now using her antiseptic wash to cleanse the garbage off
his body. Krycek was sturdily made, and his powerful frame glistened under
the soap. Mulder was washing the injured man's hair, attempting to remove
the crud that had soaked into it. Krycek was conscious, and his eyes
glittered feverishly as Mulder rubbed the shampoo into his unkempt mane.
Scully had taped a waterproof dressing over Krycek's injury, and his skin
was looking much pinker and healthier than it had when they had first
brought him in. His lips still had a grey tinge to them, and Scully was in
the kitchen currently heating up soup and making tea for the man in the
bathtub.

Mulder was still in his wet clothing and had not thought to change since
bringing Krycek into his apartment. He was soaked to the skin and well aware
that his night was not yet over. He still had to do something about the
truck he had left outside before he could sleep.

Krycek lay back in the bathtub, apparently dozing, and Mulder aimed the
shower-head at his hair, sluicing out the foam, and allowing it to stream
down his back as he washed away the filth that had accumulated. He tried to
ignore the man he was washing, a task that was proving increasingly
difficult as he took in the strong legs, the slim hips and narrow waist
flaring to a deep chest. All in all, Krycek would have made a fantastic
statue. He was a work of art. The only thing that marred perfection was the
missing arm. Mulder tried very hard not to notice the missing arm.

The rinsing operation complete, Mulder took a large, fluffy towel, and told
Krycek to get out of the tub. As he stepped out, he faltered, and Mulder
found himself newly drenched as the other man fell against him, dripping wet
and shaking.

Mulder wrapped him in the towel and sat him on the closed lid of the toilet,
where he stayed for a couple of minutes, eyes closed and face white.
Sighing, Mulder took a second towel and began to dry him off. Then taking a
comb, Mulder attacked the shock of shoulder length hair that had so
surprised him.

"That's kind of a new look for you isn't it, Krycek? You remind me of the
south end of a northbound bear!" Krycek smiled hazily, and Mulder jumped as
he heard the sultry voice unexpectedly whisper.

"Needed it for protective coloration. It's itchy. Can shave it off any
time." Krycek's lips were dry and cracked, and there were dark circles under
his eyes. Mulder gently applied the towel to his wet hair, squeezing out as
much of the moisture as he could before tossing the soaked towel into the
hamper. He combed out the long hair, mopping up the water that ran from it.
Then he carefully dried the other man's neck and shoulders before holding
out a pair of sweats for him to put on. Krycek took them but then turned
pale and slumped to one side, leaning against the washbasin.

Mulder sighed and carefully placed the other man's feet through the legs of
the sweatpants. Prompting him to stand, he tugged them up until the man was
decently covered again. Placing his arm around the other man, Mulder
assisted Krycek who leaned heavily against him, and they both left the
bathroom. Scully had been busy, and Mulder led his charge into the bedroom,
which was miraculously clear of the clutter, which had been all over it
earlier.

Krycek, who appeared to be at the end of his tether, sat on the edge of the
bed, his head leaning forward onto his hand. Mulder wasn't quite sure what
to do and hung back, afraid to leave him, but not wanting to touch him
either. Finally, he came forward, and rather gingerly laid Krycek back
against the pillows, swinging his long legs up onto the bed and covering him
with the bedding. Krycek gave a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a
sob, and his eyes rolled up into his head as he finally gave up the effort
to stay conscious.

Scully came into the room at that moment and bustled over to the bedside.
Uncovering the dressing she had placed over his injury, she checked to make
sure it had not become wet during his bath. She shook her head as she found
the wounded man's pulse was weak. Deftly she administered a shot.

"He's still shocked, and he's lost a lot of blood. He needs to sleep, but he
needs to replace the liquid he's lost too. If he were in a hospital, he
would be on a drip right now. I have to say that he's worrying me, Mulder.
I've got hot soup waiting in the kitchen, and I made some tea. Let him sleep
for an hour or so, and then wake him and make him drink something. He needs
to take two of these every four hours." She handed him a bottle of pills.
"I'm going back to bed, but call me if he seems to be getting worse. Now, go
take a shower, you smell really bad."

With that, she wrinkled her nose and departed.

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

Following a shower, Mulder wandered back into the bedroom to check on
Krycek. Gazing at the occupant of his bed, pale and fragile looking, Mulder
tried to sort out his feelings for this man he had hated, injured, and led
to his mutilation. He didn't hate him now. He hadn't done so since the night
Krycek had broken into his apartment, given him the information he needed to
regain his belief, and then kissed him gently before leaving. Mulder didn't
know what he felt exactly. There was an enormous amount of guilt, and a
strange tension that seemed to be growing each time he looked at Krycek. He
sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his sweats, and Krycek, who was
sleeping restlessly, rolled his head from side to side and began to babble.

"No, Mulder! Mulder! Don't go...love you." Mulder felt a sudden, shuddering
warmth spreading in his belly as his abdomen suffered a warp core meltdown.
He had suddenly identified his feelings and with increasing incredulity was
fighting a growing need to feel Krycek's hard body pressed to his.

He went into the kitchen and poured soup into a cup, snagging the bottle of
pills and a bottle of water as he went. Returning to Krycek, he stood
looking at him for a long moment. Krycek was still muttering to himself.
Phrases in Russian were intermingled with pleas for Mulder to come back, not
to do something that apparently made the wounded man terribly afraid. Mulder
could see from the man's increasingly flushed face that he was moving from
hypothermia to fever. He sighed, knelt beside Krycek and slipped his arm
around the sick man's shoulders, raising him so that he would be able to
drink without choking.

"Krycek, you need liquids. Scully made you soup, and I've got medication for
you. Come on, you have to drink some of this." Gently, he brought the cup up
to Krycek's lips, watching as the other man opened glittering, feverish eyes
and fixed huge black pupils onto Mulder's face. He gulped down some of the
clear soup, and then lay his head back into Mulder's shoulder. Mulder gazed
down at him and attempted to sound coherent as a tide of guilt and lust
threatened to overwhelm him.

"Do you need water? You have to take these pills, or Scully will have my
hide, and seeing what a good job you've done of preserving it, I suspect you
won't want that to happen." The words were light, but Mulder's tone was
strained, and he felt as if he were smothering as he tried to mask his
feelings.

Krycek, eyes unwaveringly fixed on Mulder, gave the faintest of nods, and
Mulder presented the pills for him to take, following it with water. Krycek
drank greedily, and finally, with a sigh and a faintly whispered "Thanks,"
he closed his eyes and lapsed back into sleep.

Mulder moved to the other side of the bed, and lay down on the top of the
covers, turning towards Krycek. He would be there if he were needed.
Thinking this, he drifted off to sleep.

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

Mulder slept restlessly, vaguely conscious of the man in bed beside him.
Several times during what was left of the night, he was wakened by Krycek's
voice as the other man babbled hoarsely in Russian and English. Time and
again he heard his own name mentioned. By dawn he was exhausted, and as he
climbed off the unaccustomed softness of his bed to go and prepare some more
liquid for his patient, he felt the prickling throat and stuffiness that
heralded a head cold. At that precise moment, his doorbell rang and
answering it, he gratefully admitted Scully.

She looked as fresh as ever, making Mulder wonder what her secret was. The
woman was invariably elegant, well groomed and calm, even after only three
hours sleep and a drenching. She clucked over Krycek, who was still sleeping
and whose fever had risen during the night. Mulder brought in some tea for
Krycek, and the two of them set to work on him. He was not too sure of his
surroundings and appeared very confused, fighting off attempts to raise him
so he could drink. Finally, Mulder spoke sharply to him, and he murmured
"Mulder" before relaxing somewhat and permitting the two agents to feed him
fluid and medication.

Scully went into the kitchen and washed her hands, then poured herself a cup
of tea. Mulder had followed her into the kitchen, and she looked closely at
him for the first time.

"You look terrible, Mulder." She laid a hand on his forehead as he put the
coffee machine on. "My God, you should be in bed yourself. You're running a
fever. How are you feeling?"

Mulder turned bloodshot eyes on her. He fought off the urge to sneeze and
smiled grimly.

"I've got a cold I think. I'm OK." He turned back to his coffee machine,
turning it on. Scully watched him anxiously.

"Mulder, you might as well call in sick today and stay in bed. Besides, you
can't leave Krycek in his condition. I'll make things OK with Kersh. I'll
tell him that I ordered you to stay home. I don't want your lousy germs
anyway!" Mulder sat, head bowed, hand rasping his stubbly chin as he
thought.

"God, Scully! They took his arm, and it's my fault. What can I do? I can't
believe I allowed that to happen." He raised misery-filled eyes to his
partner.

"Mulder, you can't know that for sure. There's nothing that you can do now.
It's long gone. It looks like a real butcher's job though. It can't be
comfortable. I think he would benefit from further surgery to make the stump
fit his prosthesis, but that's about all I can recommend." She looked
shrewdly at her partner. "Come on, Mulder. You can't take the blame for
everything that happens. Wait at least until you know the circumstances
before you start beating yourself up about it."

Mulder nodded, unconvinced. The two of them chatted for a few more minutes,
and then Scully left.

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

Mulder spent the day on the couch, rising each time the alarm went off to go
and check on Krycek, give him his antibiotics and to try to lower his fever.
By noon the man was burning hot, and his hair was matted with sweat.
Finally, Mulder, who had been bathing Krycek's temples with cold water, went
and found a pair of scissors and began to snip away at the tangled hair. As
he cut, the clean bones of Krycek's face began to emerge, and Mulder could
see the faint lilac tracery of veins in the unconscious man's temples. When
he had reduced the weight of the man's hair, leaving feathery strands
falling over his forehead, he turned his attention to the beard and
moustache, trimming them as short as he could, before heading to the
bathroom for his razor and foam.

Returning with a bowl of warm water and a towel, he applied the foam to
Krycek's face and began to shave him very carefully. As he worked, Krycek
opened his eyes and lay watching Mulder.

"Hey, Krycek. You said it felt itchy. I'm just trying to make you feel a
little more comfortable. I'll get you some breakfast in a minute if you
like." Krycek's mouth curved in a smile as he listened to the other man.

"Why are you doing this for me, Mulder? What do you want?" The voice was
still weak, but it was closer to Krycek's characteristic husky rasp than
Mulder had heard since he had brought Krycek to his apartment. The eyes that
were fixed on him now were lucid. Mulder took a deep breath.

"Why did you save my life, Krycek? What do *you* want from me?" They locked
eyes. Each man held onto his own secrets. Mulder finished shaving Krycek's
face and began to rinse it with a washcloth before patting it dry. He was
aware of Krycek's lips, plump as cushions, and fought off the urge to touch
them gently with his finger.

"You know, Mulder, I knew when I fed you that information that you would
just have to be there at the scene. I absolutely knew that you would get
into trouble. You have no idea how often I have to bail you out. Didn't
expect to get into trouble myself though. Thank you." He broke off, gasping
a little. Mulder went wordlessly to get him some juice and a further couple
of antibiotic capsules. On his return, he had composed himself enough to
continue his questioning.

"What I don't understand at all is why you are giving me information. Why
are you following me? Why are you protecting me?" Mulder's heart thumped
painfully. It felt as if it was trying to bore its way out of his chest, and
he was sure that Krycek would be able to hear it, and that he would know
what it meant.

Krycek closed his eyes for a minute, before opening them wide once more and
reaching out his hand to capture Mulder's wrist. Slowly he brought Mulder's
hand up to his lips, and Mulder gasped as he felt those lips he had just
been fantasizing about brush the back of his hand. He shook his head from
side to side, denying everything to himself. Krycek lay calmly, holding
Mulder's hand, waiting. His tongue tip protruded just a little, and he
traced a small wet circle on the overwhelmed agent's knuckles. Mulder once
more felt a flood of warmth rush from his belly button down to his groin,
taking his common sense with it. He moaned very quietly and slowly dropped
to his knees beside the bed, his hand still in Krycek's grasp. Krycek's eyes
seemed impossibly large, and Mulder felt as if he was sinking into them,
drowning in cool, green eyes. He slowly leaned forward and bent slightly
until his lips touched those of the man in the bed. For a moment, the
kneeling man stayed still, relishing the feel of the soft mouth below his,
lip brushing silky lip in a gentle motion that made the blood pound in his
ears.

Slowly, very slowly indeed, Mulder's mouth pressed down on the other man's
until Krycek gave a sigh, closed his eyes and opened up to allow Mulder's
tongue to slip in between his lips. As Mulder gently explored the other man,
tasting and caressing wherever he could, Krycek gasped as he felt Mulder
teasing the inside of his mouth and pulled up the hand he was still holding
to press it to his cheek.

Mulder groaned as he felt Krycek's tongue responding to his probing, and his
hand moved to slide around the back of Krycek's neck, holding his head
steady as he deepened the kiss. For a few minutes, nothing mattered to
either of them but the feel of tongue sliding over tongue and the moistness
of lip on lip. Finally Mulder pulled back just far enough to allow him to
speak.

"You were talking in the night, Krycek. I know you love me." Krycek closed
his eyes. His face had turned very pale. "What you don't know is how I feel
about you." The eyes flew open again as he processed what Mulder was saying
to him. For a moment, hope flashed over his face before he managed to gain
control of his features and presented his customary bland face to Mulder.

"Oh? How is that? How do you feel?" His voice cracked, betraying his
anxiety, but his gaze remained steady, and Mulder, aware of what it was
costing the other man to participate in this conversation, decided that he
had to put him out of his misery at last.

He did not speak, he carefully snaked his arms around the injured spy,
lowering his mouth to capture Krycek's once more, and they lost themselves
in a deep, sweet kiss. Mulder held Krycek as close to him as he could
without causing the other man pain, and Krycek, who was shaking slightly,
clenched his fist into Mulder's hair as he pulled him into the embrace. This
time it was Krycek who invaded Mulder's mouth, Krycek who darted his tongue
into Mulder to explore the secrets hidden within. It was Krycek who finally
cried out as they kissed endlessly.

Eventually, Mulder pulled himself away for long enough to move around the
bed and climb into it beside Krycek. The injured man turned towards him, his
face white and determined as he forced himself to move even though the pain
was immense. Finally the two men lay pressed together, arms around each
other, mouth to mouth as they kissed and stroked, mouthed and fondled.

"Mulder!" Krycek's voice was so full of need that he was hoarse again. "Oh,
God, Mulder, I want you. You won't believe how long I've wanted you."

Mulder stopped his voice by moving in to kiss his lips again before
wandering away to the corner of his mouth, over his eyelids to his newly
shorn hair. Krycek gasped as Mulder began to nibble and suck on his neck
leaving red marks behind as his lips wandered lazily over his skin. For a
while, the only sounds were those of the rustling of bedclothes, the moist
sounds of mouth on skin and the ragged breathing of the two men.

Mulder felt as if he were bursting. His skin was too tight. He couldn't get
enough air to fill his lungs, and the whole of his body sang like a harp as
he did his best to climb inside Krycek's skin. His hands wandered down to
the tell-tale erection the other man was sporting. Krycek groaned as Mulder
delved down into his pants and took hold of him, squeezing gently and
stroking up and down as he did so. Mulder could see the other man's face
flush as his eyelids first fluttered closed and then open again. Alex drank
in the sight of Mulder's face hovering above him, eyes cloudy with need as
he made love to him.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't know what to do that won't cause you
pain." Mulder sounded almost desperate as he caressed Krycek, unsure what he
was doing but knowing that he had to continue or explode.

"Hurt me?" Krycek's voice was gentle, faintly amused. "Hurt me a little! I
can take it! You're driving me crazy. Love me, please love me." Mulder
pulled back on the comforter, tugging down on the sweats that the other man
was wearing, and exposed his penis standing tall and firm, moisture oozing
from the tip as Mulder pumped it up and down slowly. Watching it with great
interest, he observed the way the other man responded to certain movements
on his part. Circling the head of Krycek's cock with his finger and thumb,
Mulder began to squeeze around the ridge that separated the head from the
shaft of it. As Krycek arched his head backwards, moaning, he dipped his
head to take it into his mouth, lapping at it before sucking it in as deeply
as he could manage. Closing his hand over the base of the shaft, he pumped
it firmly as he sucked. After a very few minutes he heard Krycek's breathing
change, and as he continued the sucking pressure, Krycek arched, bucked, and
came in Mulder's hot, velvet mouth. Mulder drank from him, but the spurting
semen still managed to trickle from the corner of his mouth as he swallowed.
Krycek was totally limp, lying flat and gasping as Mulder sucked him clean,
running his fingers over the intimate creases where legs met belly.

Gently, Mulder wriggled himself upward again to check on Krycek. He was
lying in a sprawl, boneless and panting, a smile of total bliss on his face
as Mulder carefully claimed his mouth. Together they shared the taste of
Alex's come as Mulder kissed him again.

"Krycek...Oh, hell, Alex, are you OK? I didn't hurt you?" Alex fixed his
shining green eyes on Mulder as he searched for words.

"Oh, God! That was wonderful. It didn't hurt a bit. I don't think I could
possibly feel pain right now. I'm so trashed, I don't think I could raise my
hand to prevent you from slitting my throat!" He ducked into the angle of
Mulder's jaw, running his tongue over the stubble there, moving down to his
neck and nipping gently at the skin. Mulder closed his eyes, and let his
feelings wash over him. He knew that this was right. He had never before
felt so crazy. Alex's hand wandered down to feel for Mulder's engorged cock,
running a practiced thumb over the head and sliding the moisture it found
there across the sensitive ridge on the underside. Mulder sat up, leaning on
one elbow.

"Alex, this isn't a good idea. If you start to do things to me, you're
likely to get hurt by mistake. I can't let you much as I want to. Maybe in a
couple of days we'll be able to do it properly." Mulder was conscious of his
erection, throbbing and hard as he spoke, and wondered why he was turning
down Alex's obvious skill. He must be mad!

"Mulder...fuck it, I can't call you Mulder, I really can't. You've been Fox
to me in my dreams since that time so long ago when I first offered you my
hand and you ignored it. Fox, I want to make you feel good, but I'm not
going to be much help to you right now. I want you to touch yourself, and
I'll do whatever I can." Mulder, who had winced a little when Alex began
calling him Fox, smiled into Alex's eyes.

"It's OK, Alex, you don't have to worry. I'm a big boy. I don't have to get
off every time you do. I can control myself." Mulder could feel Alex's
fingers, busily tracing lines of sweet heat into his cock as he moved them
over the loose skin that covered the rock hardness of the shaft beneath. The
temptation to start bucking his hips like crazy threatened to overcome him
as he felt the other man's touch.

Alex withdrew his hand and pulled it up to his mouth where he spat, wetting
his fingers and deftly spreading the liquid over them. Putting his hand back
down, he parted Mulder's thighs and traced the crack of Mulder's ass,
pausing to trace little circles over the tight bud of Mulder's asshole.
Mulder wanted to feel pressure against his dick. He needed to feel
something, anything that would create the friction he so desperately needed.
Alex had by this time inserted a finger into Mulder's ass and was now
slipping it in and out. At the end of each stroke he was managing to hit
something inside him that sent trails of silvery delight flickering like
fire through his nerve endings, making his cock twitch and his body shake.

"Put your hand down, Fox, take hold of yourself. I can't, I've only got one
hand..."

Mulder groaned and reached down to take hold of his own swollen penis. As he
did so, Alex managed to insert a second finger into Mulder's asshole, and
renewed his onslaught on the spot inside him that was giving him such a
wonderful sensation. Mulder shouted wordlessly as the pleasure surged
through him, coiling in the pit of his stomach, licking at his groin and
seething up and down his spine like a fire.

"Come on, Fox! I want you to come for me." The throaty voice tickled over
his ears like velvet, and Mulder, hands flying desperately, felt his body
lock up as he arched his back and came. Sticky with his ejaculate, he lay
panting beside Alex who was pale and shaking, but whose eyes shone with joy
and whose lips were crooked in a smile of great sweetness.

Reaching for a Kleenex, Mulder wiped away the worst of the pools of come on
his chest and belly, and then the two of them slept, curled up together.

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

Fox awoke with the shivers. His cold had really taken hold of him now, and
he felt like death warmed up. His head was pounding, and his throat hurt
when he swallowed. He knew he had a fever. Stumbling out of the bed without
waking Alex, he staggered as far as the bathroom, where he popped a couple
of aspirin and jumped into the shower. Feeling a little better following his
ablutions, he combed his hair and wandered into the kitchen to find
something for the two of them to eat. The clock on his microwave informed
him that it was a little after 7pm, and he wondered whether Scully would be
coming over after work.

Right on cue, he heard a knock on the door, and he hurried over to let her
in.

"Hi! How are you feeling? How's Krycek?" She entered in her usual brisk,
no-nonsense manner, but the look she gave him was kind, and she paused as he
closed the door to lay her hand on his forehead. "What are you doing up out
of bed? You're running quite a temperature." She studied him with some
concern.

"I just got up, Scully. I was hungry. I know Alex will be too when he wakes
up. Would you like to share a pizza or something?" She shook her head,
smiling, and went into the kitchen to check out the kitchen. Mulder
meanwhile had poured himself juice and was now washing a glass for Alex.

"You don't seem to have anything edible in this kitchen, Mulder. I suppose
you'd better order something in for the two of you. I'll check out Krycek,
and then go get you some groceries." Mulder flashed her a grateful smile as
she spoke. As ever, her sharp words were the cover for kindness.

Reaching for the phone, he ordered in a pizza, and then went back to check
on his new lover.

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

Saturday dawned, cold and blustery. Alex was up, out of bed, prowling around
on slightly shaky legs. Once, he began a tai-chi short form, but gave up
after a few moves. He would try again when he wasn't feeling quite so
unsteady.

He was still wearing Mulder's sweats and had been able to put on the top,
tight though it was on him. He was almost the same height as Mulder, but his
frame was heavier, and where Mulder had the lean musculature and slender
build of a runner, Krycek was altogether chunkier. His body was powerful,
and his build was that of a football player, with long, strong legs, deep
chest and slim hips.

As he reflected on his lover's body, he shuddered at the thought of
Mulder....Fox, his Fox, leaning over him with tenderness in his eyes. That
was worth getting shot for. He sighed. Fox had gone out foraging for
breakfast. Both of them were starving, and the small amount of leftover
pizza was not going to help them. Krycek opened the fridge and surveyed the
remains, and shrugging expressively, he grabbed it and devoured it.

Hearing the key in the lock, Alex went to the door, and as Mulder came
through it, he took one of the heavy sacks from him. Placing it down on the
coffee table, he moved in to kiss his lover.

"Are you OK to be out of bed? How are you feeling?" Mulder's concern was
evident in his face as he took stock of Alex's appearance.

Alex was a little pale, but his fever had subsided and he looked much better
than the day before. He was newly showered, and his hair, cut at random by
Mulder the day before, fluffed out like a dandelion puffball, making him
look like a Beatles fan from the 60s. Mulder's heart melted as he gazed at
him. He looked incredibly vulnerable with his silly haircut and his bare
feet. Mulder knew intellectually that Krycek was not at all helpless and
that he had killed on more than one occasion, but he found that he still had
the need to protect this man who had been hurt saving his life.

"Fox, where are my clothes? Much as I'd love you to keep me captive here,
these are just a little tight on me, and I don't think it's warm enough to
sit around naked." Alex took the cranberry muffin that Mulder was holding
out to him and started to peel off its paper cup prior to devouring it.

"Alex, I'm sorry to have to tell you, your clothes are no longer with us! I
had to cut most of them off, and the rest were so plastered with garbage and
crud that I had to throw them away." Mulder grinned as he spoke, watching
Alex's face fall. "It's OK. You can wear the tight stuff for a few more
hours. I want to take you shopping for some clothes. I've been fantasizing
about getting you into some really nice clothes since I first saw that
horrible polyester suit thing you were wearing that day I first met you. If
you're up to it, we'll rest up this morning, and then go hit the tailor's
after lunch."

"You have no idea how long it took me to get those jeans I had on to fit me
like that. Now I'm going to have to start breaking in a new pair." Krycek's
mournful expression caused Mulder to crack up.

"You know, I think we do still have the jeans, and the shoes are somewhere
in the laundry too, but that's pretty much all that survived. I'm looking
forward to getting you into some nice clothes. You'd probably better get
your hair cut as well, unless you want people to think you are one of the
Dead End Kids!" Mulder sat down beside Krycek, who was working his way
through a yogurt and a couple of bananas by this time. Sliding his arm
around him, Mulder nuzzled into his neck and felt a warm rush of desire hit
him as the other man stopped eating and turned towards him, capturing his
lower lip between his teeth and then sucking at it.

"Mmmmm...Breakfast!" Alex husked as he pushed Mulder backwards on the couch
and buried his face into Mulder's neck, licking and nibbling at him.

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

The afternoon came, and the sun made an appearance, peeping out from behind
watery clouds and illuminating the drenched streets in a hopeful way. It had
been raining since the night of the shooting, but now the sun made
everything look sparkly and clean. Alex, wearing sweats and running shoes
that were too tight for him, limped to Mulder's car followed by Mulder
himself. Mulder was wearing jeans and a sweater and was feeling much better
today. His nose glowed red, and he had to blow it constantly, but otherwise
he felt fairly good. Looking at the man who was walking just in front of him
he felt even better. Alex had a truly gorgeous ass. Mulder crammed his hands
into his pockets in order to keep himself from grabbing that delectable
butt, then, reconsidering, he moved forward a couple of paces to do just
that, surprising a snort out of Alex as he squeezed gently.

Arriving at the mall, Alex headed towards the "Workwear for Men" store,
causing Mulder to grab his elbow.

"Oh, no you don't! This is my shopping trip, and I say which store we buy
stuff from." Mulder led him away from the workwear store towards an
expensive tailor's, grinning as he watched the play of emotions on Alex's
features.

As they entered the store, the sales assistant moved forward to greet them.

"Mr. Mulder! How nice to see you! How can we help you today?" Mulder
indicated Alex and told the salesman what he wanted, and Alex was borne away
to a fitting room to be measured, fitted, and supplied with silk underwear.
Mulder watched, lips twitching as Alex was inserted into cream silk boxers,
and presented with an array of shirts in linen, silk and cotton to try on.
Mutely, he looked at Fox, his eyes appealing for assistance. Finally, Fox
took pity on the pathetic looking man who stood surrounded by expensive
clothing.

"Alex, I really like the green colors on you. Try this one." Mulder
proffered a silk shirt in a shade of olive green that enhanced the color of
Alex's eyes. Drooping, Alex put it on and stood, arms limp while Mulder
demanded suits from the salesman. Finally, they settled on a dark olive suit
in silk, that would look great with the shirt. The measurements had been
taken and the suit promised by four that afternoon. Mulder dragged the
wilting man away to the hairdresser. As Krycek sat down in the chair, Mulder
explained to his regular hairdresser how he wanted Alex to look. Alex lay
back in the chair, closed his eyes and sighed.

Half an hour later, a transformed Alex Krycek was examining his head
listlessly as the hairdresser displayed his handiwork. The style was fairly
short at the sides and longer on the top. Hair swept back from Alex's
forehead except for the small amount that fell in artfully tumbled strands
over his right eyebrow. Looking first at himself, and then up at Fox, he
offered a small smile. Mulder was grinning from ear to ear, as he imagined
the finished product. His Alex was emerging from his "ugly duckling"
protection, and Mulder wanted to take him away and jump on him right then
and there.

"God, Alex, you're going to look so good. I just want to eat you." Alex
flushed. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed his fatigue, but he was
grinning as he replied.

"Any time, Fox, any time at all!"

They left the hairdresser's, and headed off looking for shoes to go with
Alex's new look. Krycek headed straight for the high-tops, and once again
Mulder had to divert him towards the dress shoes. Finally, they settled on a
pair of black leather boots that Alex felt were comfortable, and they headed
back to the tailor's to pick up Alex's newly altered suit.

Surveying the transformed Alex, Mulder felt certain stirrings and was
thankful that he was sitting down. He hoped that he would be able to get up
when the time came for them to leave without displaying his excitement to
everyone present. The salesman disappeared to find a tie for Alex, who was
by now feeling very tired.

Wandering over to the couch where his lover was waiting, Alex plonked
himself down beside Mulder and cuddled up, rubbing his cheek against
Mulder's leather jacket. Mulder turned to Alex and claimed his mouth in a
long, deep kiss, tongue plunging in to revel in the warmth and moisture of
Alex. He ran his hands over the silk of the jacket Alex was wearing and
sighed softly.

"God, Alex, you look sensational," Mulder whispered to him as they finally
separated. "Now, I suppose you can go home if you want to. You're all brand
new and gorgeous."

"Fox, are you telling me that I have to leave your place?" Alex was looking
away in the manner that Mulder had come to recognize as his defense against
letting his emotions show too clearly. Mulder cupped Alex's chin, turning
his face so he could look into his eyes. He could see pain and insecurity in
Alex's eyes, before Alex closed them, his impossibly long lashes acting as a
veil for the naked emotions he did not want to expose.

"Christ! No! I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay with me forever.
It's just that you're going to want to go and fetch your toothbrush, and you
might get arrested if you go in the nude. I just wanted to dress you up,
Baby. Humor me! My Dad wouldn't let me have a doll when I was a kid. He said
they were sissy!" At that point he stopped because Alex had grabbed the back
of his neck, pulling him in to a hard, passionate kiss.

When the salesman came into the room, the two men were totally oblivious to
him as they kissed and groped one another avidly. Returning to the door, he
knocked loudly and cleared his throat, making the two of them jump apart
guiltily. As they concluded their business, and Mulder signed the credit
card slip, Alex pressed himself up to his lover, feeling the warmth of his
body along his side.

The two men left the store. Mulder was thinking of where to take Alex for
dinner, but looking at his tired face and noting the pain in his expression,
he quickly changed his plans, leading the still convalescing Alex to his car
and heading for the local takeout.

As they headed for Mulder's apartment, Alex laid his head back against the
seat and appeared to fall asleep. Mulder allowed himself the luxury of
studying his lover. His lips were parted, his white teeth were just visible,
and his glorious eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks, giving him the look of a
young boy. His legs were splayed, one booted foot up on the dash and the
other tucked into the foot well. Mulder could see the swelling muscles of
his legs through the silk and put his hand down to run the backs of his
fingers over the silky fabric. Without opening his eyes, Alex dropped his
hand to capture Mulder's, sliding it up to press into his crotch, running it
over the bulge there so that Mulder could feel the rapidly hardening cock
through the expensive material.

"I like this suit. When we get home, you can take it off me!" Alex's voice
had laughter in it, and Mulder accelerated.

"Fox?" The voice was quiet over the hum of the car engine.

"What's the matter, Alex?" Mulder was almost home now, and he dragged his
mind back to the task in hand, leaving behind an image of Alex in silk,
dropping to his knees to nuzzle into his groin.

"I can be well dressed and charming when I want to be. If you want me to do
it, I will, but it's only clothes. I'm not how I look." He broke off,
searching for words. "I'm not explaining myself very well, am I? I'm trying
to tell you that I want to be what you want me to be, but I'm myself as
well. I don't want you to forget who I am. You might not want who I really
am, but...oh, never mind!" His voice trailed off as he realized how
confusing he had sounded. "I just don't want you to be disappointed when I
don't measure up to what you are looking for. I can wear Armani, but I like
my denim and leather. I like my skin too. Don't be upset if I'm not always
elegant."

Mulder parked the car in silence, and the two of them made their way,
unspeaking, up to Mulder's front door. As Mulder closed the door behind
them, he turned to Alex, who was looking at him with his heart in his mouth.
He put his hands on his new lover's shoulders, pulling in towards him until
their lips met, and then offered up his soul to Alex. Slowly, his arms slid
around his lover as his tongue ran over the sensitive ridges of his palate,
teasing the other man into responding. Mulder sucked on Alex's mouth,
finding his tongue and stroking it with his own. He cupped Alex's butt with
one hand as he pulled him in to press along the length of him, his cock
already stiff and aching for him. Through the silk, he could feel that Alex
was in the same condition, and with a small gasping laugh, he slid Alex's
jacket off his shoulders without breaking the kiss.

Alex moaned, fumbling his hand up under Mulder's jacket and sweatshirt to
find his smooth skin and run across the long muscles of his back. In a few
more seconds they separated, and Alex dropped to his knees the way Mulder
had been imagining he would, his trembling fingers working the fly of his
jeans as he pressed his face into Mulder, inhaling the musk of him while he
freed his cock from its confines.

As Alex pulled down his pants, taking hold of his cock and engulfing it with
the sweet, wet warmth of his mouth, Mulder felt himself melting. He
staggered backward on legs that would scarcely carry him until he could lean
up against the wall. Alex was busily tonguing his penis, and he could feel
his control slipping away as the moist tugging on his cock pulled strands of
sensation from his genitals to the back of his neck. He felt his balls
rising as Alex held them in his hand, pressing and fondling. In another
minute, he was spurting his seed out into Alex's mouth and feeling very much
as if he was following it out through the end of his dick. His knees gave
way, and he slid down the wall to sit in a heap in front of Alex, gasping
helplessly as the other man grinned at him.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Mulder croaked, once he had
recovered his breath.

"I know what you do to me. It seems only fair." The husky whisper caressed
his ears as he sat, still recovering from his orgasm. "Thank you for my new
image, Fox. I confess I was a little dubious, but it works. I like it. But
you know, next time we go shopping, I'm going to get *you* a new look! It
won't be Armani, but you're going to look hot!"

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

The End