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Project 1: The Phone Booth by UnChuck
Alex Krycek was bored.
Things were going smoothly at work, almost too smoothly. Mulder seemedto be in a funk lately and hadn't been pursuing many new cases. Even the smoking man hadn't been hassling Alex lately. He hated the smoking man.How had he managed to get himself involved in such a complex and ultimately doomed situation? That was another story, and Alex didn't feel like exploringhis past or how he had gotten here. He was here, and that's all that mattered.Here. Washington D.C. FBI headquarters, working with Spooky himself, FoxMulder.
From the first time he had heard of Mulder, his curiosity had beenpiqued. The others in the academy had ridiculed Mulder's work - flying saucers, little green spacemen, shape-shifters and things that go bumpin the night: the X-Files and Mulder were a joke. But Alex did not sharethe same opinion, at least not entirely. He knew there were forces outthere, forces that could not be easily explained, and he respected Mulder'ssearch for the truth. When Alex looked at Mulder, he saw a man who believedin something, a man who didn't compromise. These were traits Alex knewhe lacked in his own life. When Alex looked in the mirror, he saw nothing*but* compromise. He saw a man doomed to failure. He saw a man with a bad haircut.
But Alex and his bad haircut and cheap suit had made it to the bigtime. Made it all the way to FBI headquarters and a job working with Mulder. Still, that wasn't enough, not nearly enough. It was time to shake thingsup, it was time to take some risks.
A wicked grin spread across Alex's face, and an evil gleam sparkledin his eye. This was going to be fun.
Fox Mulder was bored.
Things at work just seemed to be repeating themselves. If someonehanded him another case of alien-abducted mad cows with unexplained festering tattoos in the shape of ancient Incan hieroglyphs, he'd puke.
It all just seemed so uneventful. He was reacting without feeling,knowing without understanding. Could nothing get him excited anymore? EvenKrycek wasn't getting on his nerves lately. Krycek. God, Alex Krycek.Those beautiful green eyes. A soul could get lost in those eyes. "Stopit," Mulder scolded himself. Must stop thinking about Krycek in thatway. Krycek was bringing back thoughts he hadn't had in a long time. Thoughtshe'd just as soon not have.
He needed something to get his juices flowing again. Yes, juices.Body fluids. Two naked bodies, writhing together in pleasure. Surroundedby darkness and covered in sweat. Arms twisting. Legs entwined. Staringinto your lover's eyes. Those beautiful green eyes.
God, he thought, got to get Krycek out of his head.
Alex Krycek wasn't bored anymore.
He had a project: namely, Fox Mulder. Those eyes. That mouth. God,that mouth, the way the corners of it curled up when he grinned. Mulder.Just the name got Alex hard. "Stop it," Alex scolded himself.Must concentrate. Must work on his project. Must come up with a plan.
The plan. Keep it simple, he thought. Nothing too complex, Mulderwould see right through that. He knew he couldn't out-think Mulder, buthe could exploit Mulder's other weaknesses. Mulder's insecurities. Mulder'sneed, no matter how crazy, to explore all possibilities.
A wicked grin spread across Alex's face, and an evil gleam sparkledin his eye.
Extreme possibilities. Just what Mulder lived for. Just what Alexwould die for.
Fox Mulder was still bored.
It was late, must have been well after midnight, and there he was.There *they* were, actually. Mulder and Krycek, driving around Washington,D.C. in search of some crazed serial killer. Hadn't he worked this samecase a year before?
The case, Mulder had decided, was quite routine. A mysterious serialkiller stalks hotel rooms and throws people out windows. Always middle-aged white males. Always around 10:30 in the evening. Always from a sixth floorwindow. No sign of forced entry. No fingerprints. No clues, except fora few white carnation petals near the window. If Mulder didn't know better,he'd say that it was a case off of 'Kolchak: The Night Stalker,' one of his favorite old television shows.
"We should check in with the guys at the crime lab, see if they'vecome up with anything." Krycek's words broke the long silence betweenthe two FBI agents.
"Well, grab the cell-phone and check," Mulder snapped back.The experienced FBI agent was growing impatient with this new person inhis life. This other man wasn't a partner, definitely not a partner. Noone could replace Scully. But Krycek was *something*, a distraction asmuch as anything else. At first he hadn't trusted the raw junior agent.Mulder had done his best early on to ditch him. But Krycek had been persistent;dogged, in fact. Mulder had to give him credit, at least for that. Andslowly, over the weeks that they had worked together, Mulder had grownto tolerate this new presence. He had to laugh sometimes at the cheapsuits the younger man had chosen, and the atrociously bad haircut the poorfellow had. And now, late at night, Mulder found himself feeling gladthat Krycek was here, alongside him, trying to solve this infernal case.
"Did you hear me? I said we can't, the batteries are dead."
Another long silence fell between the two agents. Both were tired,and they were getting nowhere on this case. Mulder wondered what Scullywould be doing 'round about now if she were here. In the old days shewould be here, beside him. As he looked over to the passenger seat, heimagined her there. Silent and reassuring. But she wasn't there, Alexwas. Still, it wasn't too bad having Alex there. Despite the cheap suit,Alex wasn't half-bad to look at. Attractive really. Especially those eyes.Even all sweaty and haggard from a long day, he was good to look at.
"How about we stop at a phone booth?" Alex asked.
"Stop at a phone booth, and you can call the lab."
"*I* can call the lab?" Mulder retorted.
"You know them; they trust you. Besides, you can get more outof them than I can. They tell you things."
Mulder couldn't beat Alex's logic. He began looking for a phone booth.
Alex was anxious.
He couldn't believe he'd done it. Was this the plan? To get Mulderalone in some deserted, run-down neighborhood late at night. Was this really going to work?
He watched as Mulder got out of the car and walked over to the phonebooth in the deserted, crumbling block of downtown D.C. He entered thebooth and turned his back to Alex and the car.
Good, Alex thought, the light in the booth was broken. He was countingon the darkness. The illumination from the nearby street light was just enough to see Mulder as he picked up the receiver and dialed.
He could tell by Mulder's body language that the news from the labwasn't good. Alex exited the car and walked over to the booth, just asMulder was hanging up the phone. Alex opened the door to the booth. Turningaround, Mulder was surprised by Alex's presence. Mulder's eyes quicklydarted up and down Alex's slim form, while Alex's gaze was fixed on Mulder'sconfused face. They stood there, immobile, each trying to judge the intentof the other.
Alex stepped forward and entered the booth, pressing himself closelyto Mulder. The door closed behind him. Mulder was utterly confused. Whatwas Krycek doing? The whole situation was fascinating; Krycek had neverexhibited this type of behavior before. The two men jockeyed for space in the booth with Alex ending up with his back up against the phone andMulder's back pressed firmly against the door. The two men were lockedtogether in this confined space. The walls of the phone booth seemed todarken and fade away at the same time, cutting off the outside world. Thisspace, this time, no matter how small, seemed to be a world all its own.A world filled only with these two men.
"Excuse me, Alex, but.."
"Shut up, Mulder." Alex said sarcastically.
Mulder looked at Krycek with a puzzled expression on his face, whileKrycek stared resolutely into Mulder's eyes. The profound intensity ofAlex's gaze took his breath away. Mulder looked down to break away fromAlex. This was the first time that Mulder felt intimidated by Krycek. Hewas even reluctant to speak, still unsure of the other's intentions.
Standing there, in the closeness of the phone booth, Mulder couldsmell Krycek. It had been a long, hot day and both men could have useda shower and change of clothes. Mulder wondered if Krycek was pickingup his scent as well.
Looking down, his eyes were drawn to Krycek's shoes. His eyes slowlyscanned up Krycek's leg. There was a small smudge of dirt on his left pant leg, just above his ankle. At the knee, Mulder studied the many creasesin the cheap fabric. It had been a long day, and Alex's clothes had become disheveled. Slowly, Mulder's eyes worked their way up Alex's leg, untilhis gaze reached the point at which the two pant legs met. His eyes stoppedand his gaze intensified. He became focused on the flap of fabric joiningthe pant legs and covering the zipper. Alex's zipper. He wanted to knowwhat was behind that zipper. A bead of sweat slowly trickled down theside of Mulder's face and paused at the corner of his mouth. He unconsciously reached out with his tongue and wiped away the salty drop.
It was late and he was tired. His mind began to drift. A deeply repressedmental image slowly worked its way to the surface. He pictured his hand,reaching for Krycek's mid-section. Touching his abdomen. Slowly driftingdown, past his belt-buckle. Stopping at his zipper. His fingers takinghold of the clasp and lowering it.
The imaginary sound of the zipper snapped Mulder's mind back to attention.What the HELL was he thinking? And what the HELL was he doing trapped in a phone booth in the middle of the night with Alex Krycek? And why inhell was he so damn horny? If he didn't know better he'd almost say thathe wanted to be here. He wanted to be this close to Alex. He wanted this.But he knew better, didn't he?
"Krycek..." Mulder began, as he worked up the courage tospeak.
Mulder looked into his eyes, and the intensity of Krycek's glare forcedhim to stop in mid-statement. He was transfixed by those beautiful eyes.He could feel the power of Krycek's gaze take hold of him. He knew whyKrycek had come here, and now, his own mind was in complete agreement.
It wasn't a command Alex had spoken. It was just a simple statementmade in a soft voice. Both men knew what was going to happen, the statementwas merely a catalyst for a reaction that was long overdue.
"No! No!" Those words were ringing in his head, and yet,he still was lowering himself, kneeling before Alex Krycek, kneeling beforethe object of his lust. Mulder did as he was instructed. As he wantedto do. He lowered himself until his face was quite close to Krycek's groinand that fascinating zipper. Mulder was letting himself go, giving intodesires he had been holding back. Exploring the extreme possibilities ofsex with another man. Sex with Alex Krycek.
Mulder was in hell. Just the way he liked it.
He was confronted by all his fears. Fears of the unknown, fears ofletting go. As if he were jumping from a high ledge into open space.
The sound of Krycek's zipper again snapped Mulder back to reality.Had he really done that? Had he actually reached up and undone Krycek'szipper? He must have, because it was definitely down. And Krycek was definitelypleased with the situation.
Mulder reached into the opening and felt his way around. Silk boxers.Not what Mulder was expecting. He had always imagined Krycek to be a FruitOf The Loom kinda guy. Time to start a new file labeled "Alex Krycek."Point 1: boxers, not briefs.
His hand found its way into the opening in the boxers and he graspedthe already erect penis. Krycek wasn't messing around. He definitely wanted this just as much as Mulder.
Mulder gently guided his hand until Krycek's penis was fully revealed.He looked at it closely for a moment, studying it as if it were some unusual piece of evidence in one of their cases.
An erect penis staring him in the face wasn't something that Muldercame across every day.
He was fascinated by it - so alien looking.
Time to jump off that ledge. Mulder grasped Krycek and took as muchof him into his mouth as he could manage. He knew what a blowjob was, he'd experienced numerous examples in the past. He knew what he liked, andnow it was time to apply that knowledge.
Mulder reached up and undid Krycek's belt. He wanted better accessto the rest of him, and the pants were in the way. While still workingon his cock, Mulder slowly pulled down Alex's pants, revealing a pairof sweat-soaked red silk boxers. He could smell the sweat, the pungent,musky odor of another man. From deep within him came cries of heresy andsin. What he was doing was dangerous, against all the rules, against hisvery nature. Every fiber of his being told him that this was wrong, whileevery pore of his body screamed out for more.
Mulder was in heaven.
Krycek could tell that Mulder was new to this. His technique at firstwas crude, but the guy was learning fast. Damn, he thought, Mulder hadone talented tongue. Alex Krycek was thoroughly enjoying himself. Whatcould be better than having Fox Mulder kneeling in front of him, eagerly sucking on his cock? Suddenly a wicked grin spread across Alex's face,and an evil gleam sparkled in his eye. Things could be better; yes, thingscould be much better.
Alex looked down at Mulder. He was such a dedicated fellow. Once hegot hold of a thing, he just didn't let go. Alex almost hated to disturb him.
"I need a quarter," Alex managed to get out.
The statement surprised Mulder. Had he heard Alex correctly? He stoppedhis task and looked up at the younger man. Looked up into those shiny green eyes, his mouth still filled with Alex's throbbing sex organ.
"I need a quarter," Alex repeated. "Reach into my pocketand give me a quarter."
Mulder, though confused, did as he was instructed.
"Keep going, please. You're doing such a good job."
Mulder cautiously returned to his task. What was Krycek up to? Andwhy was the mystery only exciting him more? And why had he waited so long to taste another man? Mulder eagerly lapped at Alex's balls, taking eachone into his mouth in turn. His nose drank in the pungent smell of Alex'sgenitals, as he buried it into the abundant, sweaty pubic hair. So thiswas what another man smelled like. It was a scent Mulder would not soonforget.
It took all of Alex's concentration to reach around and pick up thereceiver on the phone. Damn, Mulder was good. He should have done thisa long time ago. "Okay," Alex thought, "must concentrate.Must insert quarter in slot. Must dial the phone. Must hold on. Must notrelease. Not yet."
The phone rang, waking Walter Skinner. It was late, very late. Hetried to focus his eyes on the clock, but couldn't quite manage it. Hereached for the phone. Whoever this was, it had better be good.
"Skinner," he said succinctly.
At first he didn't hear anything. "Hello, who is this?"he demanded.
Then he began to hear sounds. Muffled at first, but definitely sounds.Moans, actually. Yes, definitely moans. And another sound, getting louder.Slurping?
A drained look came across his face. He knew that sound.
Being half-asleep, Skinner tried to convince himself that his mindwas playing tricks on him. But he knew from experience that the subconscious mind could sometimes recognize patterns and sounds that the fully consciousmind could not.
And his subconscious mind was telling him who was making those sounds.Mulder, those sounds were coming from Mulder. They were sounds that Skinner himself had fantasized about.
Skinner looked at the clock on his night stand. It read 1:11 a.m.He let the receiver drop from his hand and fall to the pillow beside him.His hand slowly drifted down his broad, muscular chest and across hisstomach. He could still hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from thephone. His hand worked its way under the waistband of his briefs. He closedhis eyes and let the sounds overtake him. He was carried off by them, asif floating on a sea of passion. His hand drifted still lower, encirclinghis now throbbing cock. The muffled sounds coming from the phone were joinedby his own moanings of pleasure. His free hand reached up and began totwist his already hard nipple. He struggled to hold back the pleasure thatwas overtaking his body and to fight off the pain of knowing who was onthe other end of the phone line.
It was going to be a long night. A very long night.