"Domesticated III: Territory"
By Viridian5
8/19/99

RATING: NC-17; M/K. If m/m interaction bothers you, run away! SPOILERS: none.
SUMMARY: Alex greets Mulder at home.
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you ask me first. DISCLAIMERS: All things X-Files belong to Chris Carter, Ten- Thirteen, and Fox. I'm just sharing and not making a cent off this. No infringement intended. Suing me would be a waste of time and a mean thing to do. I have no money. At all. FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com NOTES: I've become a fan of the Sith Academy site ( http://www.siubhan.com/sithacademy ), and one of the many featured characters is a Sith *cat* called My Apprentice. When not plotting against her owner and master, Darth Maul, she's trying to kill the Jedi hamster, Fluffi-Wan Kenobi, next door. Discussion with a friend ended up leading to thoughts of Sith kitty Alex, which immediately led to thoughts of the "Domesticated" series. But the only place you'll see a becollared, jingling Alex in bed chomping the heads off of hamsters like they were little chocolate bunnies is in this NOTE. So thanks, R!
Gravity Kills' self-titled album was a big help too. Thanks to the very patient Karen-Leigh for stepping in to beta. Thanks to Nonie for the subtitle.
You can find "Domesticated" 1 and 2 and my other stories in The Green Room at http://members.tripod.com/~drovar/viridian/


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"Domesticated III: Territory"
By Viridian5
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Mulder would be home any minute now, and nothing would look different or out of place. A little filler and paint had covered the bullet holes in the walls. Paint scent lingered, but I could always say I did some painting while he was gone. I doubt he'd notice the new lamp; he hadn't noticed the carpet had been cleaned that last time, and it had been filthy before the blood had marked it further.

Establishing yourself as a neat freak had its advantages. If he ever asked about any of these things I had a ready answer.

I was fucking sick of all the thugs wandering into the apartment or trying to keep tabs on us from the other ones. If the old man had to put Mulder under surveillance he could damned well do it at the office. Home was off-limits. They had to know I was here by now, and they already knew how I felt about people invading my territory.

I'd killed so many intruders over the last few months that I was starting to wonder if Old Man Spender had reached a point where he just sent the people that he wanted disposed of. "I'll give them to Alex; he'll kill anyone." If that was true, I wanted my fee.

Keys jingled in the lock. I don't know how many times I've told Mulder not to give anyone hiding in his apartment that kind of advance notice. I would probably never get him properly trained.

Grinning, I crouched in my spot and prepared to spring. I had an open line at him as soon as he opened the door. If I had a tail, it would be twitching. Our matched collars made an awkward bulge in my jeans pocket beside another bulge. They rubbed together nicely as I shifted now and then; in fact, I shifted just to feel that friction.

Four days without him. I wanted him so badly I could taste it.

I had finally successfully partitioned my life. When he wasn't around, I could be the cold, ruthless bastard I had to be and not even think of him while on the job. But it cost a little. When I had him, the emotions and lust tended to make up for lost time. Not that he ever complained.

The door swung open, but Mulder didn't come in. I aborted my leap and waited. A gun barrel cleared the doorway, then withdrew. He stalked in, gun ready, using the wall for cover, glancing in every direction around the apartment.

My smile nearly devoured my face. He was playing! It was so damned sweet.

And so damned useless. I leapt and hit him from the back. He let out a distinctly girly scream as he went down under me but kept hold of his gun without squeezing the trigger in his surprise. He was getting better. Only my lust was greater than my pride.

We wrestled for the gun, both grinning like loons. Or showing our clenched teeth like dueling lions. He had two hands, but I kept smacking him with my prosthetic arm. Struggling, we writhed and ground against one another, panting. He was at least as hard against me as I was against him. We must have looked like a flurry of jerky movement. The tang of his sweat made me want to bury my face in his neck.

He stopped fighting so suddenly I fell on him. I prepared for some sneaky move from him, but he was just lying there giggling. "You surrender?" I asked as I tongued his ear.

"Kinda. I realized that if we kept it up, I'd come in my suit pants soon. That's not how I want to do it."

"You're smarter than you look."

"That wouldn't be too hard."

Our struggle had brought a flush to his face, and his hair had spiked more. Not many people know what an incredible smile he has, but he was shining it at me now. We were lying on his trench coat unfurled beneath us. I'd successfully initiated the rumpling process on his clothes and self; rumpling improved his looks. I pulled his tie loose and put my teeth around the top button of his dress shirt.

"Alex!" he protested.

"Mulder!" I replied.

"Let me do that."

"You want to bite off your own top button? I want to see this."

"Smart--"

"--Alex?"

"Brat."

"And proud of it."

But I watched his long, clever fingers take off the tie and undo the buttons. No undershirt, but he'd known I'd be here when he got home. He made a small incoherent sound as I nuzzled the smooth skin of his stomach. Yeah, he'd gotten me into it. Him offering his belly to me like this touched something primal and atavistic; it signaled surrender and trust.

His hips already bucked under me, since it had been days since we'd last gone at one another. This first time would be on the "wham-bam" level for sure, but I liked fast and frenzied too, and we'd have more time later. Hell, I made him see God on a nightly basis, at least he usually kept screaming like he saw the Creator. I could also wring multiple erections from him, even if he were nearing forty. With the exercise I was giving him, I was probably adding years to his life.

Of course, getting shot at and throwing himself into danger fucked with all that, but there was only so much even I could do.

"Maybe we should close the door first," Mulder said with a grin.

"Why? I think old lady Scheel could use a thrill."

"Old lady Scheel doesn't deserve you."

"Aw! I think."

"I meant it in a good way. Mostly."

"I could still kill you with my hand tied behind my back."

Mulder's hand rummaged through my jeans' pocket a little longer than necessary--not that I didn't enjoy it--and pulled out the cat collars. "But you can't put these on."

"Give me enough time and a little privacy, and you'd be surprised."

"I like watching you twist around." But he put one collar around his neck before reaching for mine. Strong fingers brushed the nape of my neck in ways that sent a shudder through my whole body. You shouldn't knock neck sex until you've tried it.

But... "You're wearing *my* collar, Mulder." His nametag was green, while mine was red. The colors had felt so appropriate for us that I only remembered his color-blindness later. Though he seemed to be able to see a difference in the two tags even without our names engraved on them. His was a darker shade of color.

He gave me a grin so insolent he could have stolen it off my face. "I know."

Something inside me ruptured. So we have strange and sappy ideas of kink. Didn't stop me from swooping down and kissing him breathless, bell jingling all the way. As I ground against him again, I said, "How 'bout I sit on your lap while you stroke me?"

He answered by exhaling in a small explosion of breath before unfastening his pants in a frenzy. I only helped by pulling back far enough to let him. A little frustration did wonders for him.

Rhinestones flashed on my collar around his neck as he wiggled. I didn't know if I'd be able to stand waiting much longer myself. That was okay, because he tore my sweater off and hit a new speed record for unbuckling my prosthetic arm before his hands went for my pockets again.

"What else do you have in here?" he asked. "Besides the obvious." He pulled out the condoms and tube of slick. "Always prepared. You must have been a boy scout."

"The Russian version actually. I looked fetching in the little red neckerchief."

Mulder moaned. "Don't I have enough dirty fantasies about you?"

"You can never have too many."

"Maybe, but this one doesn't have us doing this on the floor."

"Spoilsport." But I stood up. Mulder wasn't half as much fun if you wrecked his back early in the evening.

I couldn't help snickering when he closed and locked the door. He had half the conspiracy watching him jerk off on the couch and shower for years, but he couldn't stand the thought of the neighbors, what few he had left, maybe getting a peek. He probably preferred not to think about it. Well, if his mental blind spots got him through the day and didn't compromise me, who was I to complain?

I didn't have the heart to tell him that anyone who tried to walk in on us would be dead in minutes. I hated interruptions. So maybe a closed door was a good thing.

Mulder shrugged off his coat and shirt in a fluid motion. Made me wish I had two hands to applaud with so he could stick out his tongue at me. Then we were all over one another again: kissing, stroking, biting, squeezing... I tripped him onto the couch, and he managed to get our pants off. Neither of us had much time or need for prep. I was so damned ready. He got the condom on, while I slicked myself up.

When I impaled myself on his cock, it felt... I couldn't find the word that would nail it completely. Right. Perfect. Necessary? Whichever, it felt so good that sparks traveled up my spine. Pressure, burn, weight, friction--familiar, but never exactly the same twice--all combined in the hard, fast thrusts of Mulder's hips. I just about felt him at the back of my teeth.

His hands clenched on my hips, moving and guiding me, would leave new bruises, but I marked him up too. It wasn't a pain thing or a possession thing, just a part of the way we made one another lose control. Two control freaks in... in love wouldn't have worked any other way.

The low, throaty sounds of satisfaction he made matched mine. At times like these the blankness melted from his face and liquefied into pure pleasure. The light of the nearby lamp gleamed off his eyes, teeth, bell, and rhinestones in small bursts of brilliance. I loved to watch him. He smiled as I stroked myself in time to his thrusts.

Our bells jangled out of time, so I started to move in a way that would synchronize them. Soon, we were ringing together. Mulder laughed and babbled, "You're insane, you're beautiful, Alex..."

Orgasm hit him in a wild rush, and he thrust upward in a way that instantly brought me off. I vaguely heard the couch thump against the wall and something crash, but I was too busy drowning in the lightning thrumming through my body to care. When I came back to myself, I was draped against his side, and he was stroking my spine in slow strokes.

Sated, drained, I yawned and burrowed in closer. I'd gotten used to waking up with him in the middle of the night for Round 2, sometimes followed by Rounds 3, 4...

"I'd leave more often if I knew we'd have furniture-breaking sex when I got back," he said as he kissed me.

I looked down at the floor and saw that we'd broken the lamp. I smiled. One less thing to worry about. But Mulder stared at it.

"What?"

"Alex, that isn't my lamp."

No matter how much he pleaded, I refused to tell him why I was laughing like a lunatic.


*********************THE END************************