Title: Brothers By Choice II - In a Mountain Greenery

Pairing: Mulder/Krycek slash

Legal: All things X Files belong to 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting.They aren't mine. I just take them down and play with them for a littlewhile. When I am done I give each a kiss on the cheek and place them ontheir shelf to await Mr Carter's coming home again.

General: This is a continuation of a previous story entitled "Goldin the Glass". It may make things clearer if you read that one first.

Spoilers: Red and the Black, Tunguska

Summary: Mulder goes for a walk, Krycek is in hot pursuit.

Warnings: NC-17 for m/m interaction

Again I would like to thank by beta reader, Griffin Grimes. Without whosework, above and beyond the call of duty, this story would have never beenrealized.

Archive anywhere, but just let me know where it ends up.


In a Mountain Greenery
By The Riticulan Amanuensis


Mulder walks quickly away from the cafe and I am in hot pursuit. My bodyhas its own memories - memories of pain inflicted when Mulder is pushedtoo far. It always amazes me - how quickly Mulder can turn violent - butit seems that it's only ever directed at me. It's not that I don't deserveit, most times, anyway.

One of the advantages of being in a sparsely populated country is. . .sovery few people. Almost no one, actually. He approaches the highway anda few cars pass. I look up and can see the heat ghosts gyrating on the surfaceof the pavement - the heat is so oppressive and heavy - and the only thingapproaching is a transport truck, some miles distant, giving us both timeenough to cross the road.

Mulder doesn't stop, doesn't look back, and doesn't acknowledge my presencein any way. I still follow. He enters a small country lane; the dirt roadbeneath our feet is dry and cracked from the heat and lack of rain. Thetrees, shrubs and wild roses crowd us, giving only enough room for one personto pass unmolested.

The air is sweet and pure - unsullied by the urban decay I am so often forcedto contend with. Overhead I can hear the birds swooping and chirping asthey dive for insects. In the distance I can hear the loons and the fishersas they dive and splash, their lonely, haunting call registering in my earas beauty would to my eye.

Somewhere in the distance some settler of long ago must have planted a patchof lavender, now gone wild; the smell is rich and heady in the air.

Still Mulder walks on.

I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, between my shoulder blades.It feels good and wholesome for a change. But I remember what it will doto that place where the leather harness holding my faux arm joins to myflesh. I can practically feel the sting to come - the pain of the chafeI know will form. But I don't care.

Suddenly Mulder stops without looking back at me. His hands grasp the hemof his T-shirt, pulling it up and off over his head. I see that his back,too, is covered in sweat. He coils up his T and ties it to his head to collectthe perspiration caused by too much sun on an unprotected skull. I mustadmit I admire the long flank of his back and the muscles rippling thereas he accomplishes this task. He marches on.

I have seen no one since we started this trek down this deserted lane -saw no one and heard no one. So I decide to follow Mulder's lead, althoughI couldn't possibly match Mulder's fluidity of motion. But I manage. I noticethat my chest is slick and oily with sweat, and with a chuckle I noticemy rock hard nipples. Mulder, if you only knew what you do to me!

Mulder is staring straight ahead as though transfixed at some point farin the distance. He casually kicks a stone or two from his path and veersrather unexpectedly into a meadow, totally overgrown with wildflowers. Forthe briefest of moments I think I see children, dressed in costumes of long,long ago, playing with toys I can't even identify. The vision soon meltsinto nothingness. I think I hear the tinkling sound of breaking glass -I wonder if this is the sound my heart will make when Mulder breaks it -for I plan to offer it to him today. Don't I? "Ghosts," I voicealoud, "ghosts are everywhere."

Toward the edge of the field there is an old barn, terribly weathered andunpainted. It looks as though it hasn't seen a human in a hundred years.Mulder suddenly unties his T-shirt and drapes it over his neck. The effectof the field, the wildflowers, and Mulder traipsing through them remindsme, impossibly, of a painting by one of the old Dutch masters - my motherhad a cheap copy of it sitting on her piano and every time I saw it, itwould make things seem bright and sunny and happy. I think I am losing it.

Mulder turns around and looks at me. Hard. I can't read his look. It's darkand it's brooding. He turns as quickly and goes toward the barn. Not forthe first time since we entered this path, I think: what am I doing here- alone with a man who hates my guts? He could kill me here and no one wouldfind my body for months and months to come.

But I'm a man on a mission, aren't I?

He approaches the building and turns, rests his back against the grey, weatheredwood, chest heaving and covered with sweat. I notice that his nipples areas hard as mine. He leans his head against the wood and closes his eyes.

I approach slowly, and stop just out of arm's reach. Mulder doesn't move.I move in closer and frame him with my arms, bringing my face close enoughto his to feel his breath. My knee insinuates itself between his legs andpresses upward to fell his crotch - reminding him that I'm there. He smellsfresh and clean and wonderful. Manly sweat - pungent and glorious.

I grow bolder and lift one of my hands from the building and place it overhis heart to feel the raging beating of it. His eyes flash open. He looksat my hand over his chest, then looks at my prosthetic arm braced againstthe wall. He nods his head toward the false arm.

"Want me to take that off and beat you over the head with it?"he says without malice.

I raise my eyebrows quizzically. "I thought we weren't going to playlike that anymore?"

His mouth shows his approval. "What kind of answers do you expect toget from me, Alex?" he asks, his mood completely changing - suddenly,as though remembering who he is with, he eyes grow suspicious.

"Answers! Hell, Mulder, I don't even know the questions."

He smiles beautifully. I reach my hand up and remove a pearl of sweat fromhis nose. I place a small kiss in its place while I am at it. He doesn'tflinch back from me; he just locks his eyes with mime, as though this wasan everyday occurrence. I mutter something in Russian. He doesn't ask fora translation.

"Why me, Alex?"

"Why you, what, Mulder?"

"Why do you want me? Don't deny it." he asks, truly dumbfounded.

"Is this truth or is it dare, Mulder?"

"It's truth, Alex, or as close as you can come to it!"

I can't say that his barb doesn't sting me, because it does. "Why notyou, Mulder?"

"Answering a question with a question, Alex. That's a cop out. Youpromised me the truth, now give it to me!"

"The truth! The truth! It's always the truth with you, isn't it? Whatif there is no truth, Mulder. Can you deal with that?" My voice isgoing up a notch as I tear myself away from him. I take the T-shirt frommy scalp, turning it into a rustic pillow, and lay down on the grass withit supporting my head.

Not in my most fevered, wild imagings could I see what was coming next.In none of my midnight fantasies could I come up with this one - he mimicsmy actions and he lays down beside me. My heart stops for a moment, I'msure. He takes my hand, lacing my fingers with his own, and I feel his warmthseep into my arctic soul.

"Is it so hard, Alex, can't you just tell me?" He speaks quietly,almost a whisper.

"I can't, don't ask. Please!" It takes all the strength I possessbut I am able to hoist myself, using our locked hands for leverage, so thatI am laying on top of his body - belly to belly, chest to chest, groin togroin. "I can't tell you, Mulder. But I can show you."

I look into his eyes and see the panic there. "You want me too, Mulder.I can feel it." I press our matching bulges together and we buck intoeach other. The heat in his cock radiating into mine, and mine radiatingback into his. This feels so right. I take his mouth in a kiss, slowly andsweetly - it reminds me of a cherry, somehow. The kiss is chaste, at leastin the beginning - until he returns it with his own.

We are lost in the world of pleasure. Speaking that secret language knownonly to lovers. Lost to both time and space. His mouth opens to me and Iravage it with my tongue. Tasting every bit of him. Gaining secret knowledgeof his teeth, his cheek, his lips. Oh God! His lips taste like sweet summerwine. I am lost to all reason. His tongue enters my mouth, taking that knowledgeas his own.

I am lost to bliss, like a man who suddenly, and without merit, is grantedevery wish of his heart and soul. Still lost in that kiss, my hips are gyratingand my cock is tracing the outline of his through the denim; I can feelits bulbous head with my cock, and my cock knowing that it has finally comehome.

I am near that point, I know. One more thrust and it will be all over forme. I raise my head to look into his eyes. The sound of tinkling glass isin my ears again and the pain is in my heart.

I don't hear his words, but I see them forming on his lips.

"No! Krycek. I can't do this. Not with you!"

He tosses me off him like a bad dream.

"I can't do this, don't ask me to." He gets up and starts to run,leaving me his T-shirt as a reminder - a souvenir - of our near coupling.

I scream at his retreating form, "I can help you, Mulder!"

He is still running and shaking his head.

"I will help you, Mulder. I swear it. I sear it on my mother's grave!"My voice has risen to a wild roar, but he is still running, still shakinghis head in denial.

And soon he is gone, like a mirage dissipating in the summer heat, and Iam left alone, again. The only reminder that he was ever here is his smell,and that is all over me.

I cast my eyes again over this Arcadian setting, noting its beauty onceagain. Nothing left for me now but to pick myself up, brush myself off,and start all over again. But I swear it, I swear to the vault of heaven,that I will help him, he will see - someday he will see.

-to be continued in Brothers by Choice III

Feedback, hell yes, I love it Riticulan@usa.net



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