This was done for the Fight Club location challenge.

Location: Sun Yat Sen Gardens, Vancouver, Canada -photos by Dr. Ruthless.

Comments: Beta by Candace, phyre and Bonita, for which many thanks.

Confucius Say Kiss and Make Up 



The day had been oppressively hot, and now, with darkness beginning to pour itself into the alleys and crevices and lie like pools in the lengthening shadows, Vancouver had almost ceased to breathe.

Buildings shimmered in the dying light, and the gate to the garden seemed to offer a portal through which a different time and space could be viewed.

Fox Mulder leaned against the wall of the Chinese Cultural Center, and waited for the man he'd been following to emerge. The gates would be closed in another few minutes, and this was the only way out. He had to come out soon, unless he'd planned to stay in there until morning.

The streetlights came on amid gathering shadows, and the few people who'd been loitering along the street seemed to melt into the increasing dusk. No silent figure appeared at the gate, and the garden beyond it had faded, becoming a place that consisted of shapes only vaguely seen.

Mulder looked around and made up his mind quickly. He'd followed the man here, and he didn't want to go home, tail between his legs and try again on another day. He'd waited far too long for this already.

Taking a deep breath of the sticky air, he ghosted forward, grateful for the dark T-shirt he was wearing, and slipped through the circular gateway that led into the Sun Yat Sen Garden. The sound of splashing water was somehow refreshing, but he didn't linger by the gate. Quickly, he looked around him for the places the man might be hiding. The shrubbery reached dark fingers towards him as he made his way around the pond toward a patch of blooming azaleas that glimmered pale among black leaves. He tore through it in his haste, feet grinding beauty into darkness in his haste to find his quarry. He'd rounded the edge of the pool and stepped behind the shrubbery when he heard the clanking of the gates being drawn closed.

He suppressed an angry, impatient sound, wondering if he was going to be trapped in here until morning, and whether it would be worth it if his quarry were trapped right along with him. As far as he could tell, the walled garden was entirely empty, and he was going to be stuck here for an hour or so until he was certain that the place was really deserted. He couldn't leave until he'd made sure that he really had lost the man he'd followed in.

He reached the grotto at the side of the garden, and stood listening, his mind sifting out the distant hum of traffic, and the sounds from the kitchen of the restaurant that lay just behind the garden wall. Nothing was audible within the garden save for the lap and gurgle of the water, and the occasional splash as a fish leapt within the pool. 

He stood, his forehead resting on his hands as he leaned against a post and listened. 

Nothing moved, and his surroundings seemed drugged in the oppressive heat of the night that had now fallen to stifle the city's hapless occupants. He was just getting himself together to begin his assault on the wall, and he'd almost begun to scale the convenient tree as he aimed for the low, red roof, when a sudden crunching of gravel behind him made him stiffen and whirl, too late.

An arm snaked around his neck, and the ready press of sharp metal against the shrinking flesh of his throat let him know that he'd caught up with his quarry in a way that didn't bode well for the success of his mission. The lack of air to his lungs told a tale of the irritation level of the man he'd been stalking.

The voice that brushed his senses then was rich and rough, like crystallized honey, soft and sure against the fine hairs around his ear, and sweet breath tickled him as his attacker spoke.

The man's words were as maddening as the situation in which Mulder suddenly found himself.

"Looking for someone, Mulder?" There was an undeniable quirk of amusement in the voice that husked against his ear, and Mulder gritted his teeth as he felt the sharp prick of the knife at his throat. The keenness of its sting was followed by the warmth of trickling blood that crept ticklishly down his neck and into the valley between his pecs.

"Cut the crap, Krycek." Mulder's words paid no homage to the situation in which he found himself. He really couldn't be bothered any more. He'd done this intimidation two-step so often in the past that he was numb. "Just stick the knife in me, or let me go. I don't have time for this shit!"

His words were brave, but he stifled a gasp when he felt the knife bite a little harder into the skin of his throat, and his voice trembled and caught just a little as the other man's teeth bit into the muscle that covered his shoulder. Then the teeth closed, and Mulder let out a yelp as he felt them break his skin through the thin cotton of his top.

"Come on, Krycek. What's the problem? You scared? Quit the fucking around and cut to the chase. There's a beer with my name on it waiting for me at the Lamplighter." Mulder's voice faded away to a hoarse whisper as Krycek tightened his hold on his throat, but he'd balled his fists, and was tensing as his words came to a finish.

Krycek laughed - the kind of laugh that contained within it little of mirth and everything of scorn. His breath puffed hot on Mulder's neck, and all of a sudden it was more than Mulder could take. He gritted his teeth and reached back to cup his fingers around Krycek's genitals, ready to inflict as much pain as he was capable of giving, if the annoying bastard didn't release him. Seconds later he found himself jerking his hand away as though it had touched a red-hot surface. His clutching hand had felt the sudden rapid swelling at Krycek's groin, and as if that were not enough, his own response left him in no doubt as to his own body's wishes. He didn't want to think about what that might mean.

The laugh came again, this time, genuinely amused, and he gulped in great lungfuls of air as the arm was removed from around his throat. As Krycek pressed his crotch in against the hand Mulder had used to negotiate his freedom, Mulder recoiled in disgust, prompting more unholy laughter from his tormentor. He felt as irritable and off balance as a very young bull facing a very experienced matador.

Whirling, he faced the laughing man, who had put away his knife, his hand causing it to disappear as if by magic into his clothing, and who now stood, seemingly at his ease, watching Mulder.

"Were you stalking me on principal, Mulder, or did you want something in particular from me?" Alex Krycek's words were mild, and the glint in his eye indicated a propensity towards hilarity that didn't auger well for Mulder's peace of mind. He studied the face of his adversary, noting the annoying smirk that he'd slapped onto the handsome features, and bit his own lip in an attempt to remain in control of his rapidly fraying temper.

"What are you doing here, Krycek? Why are you skulking around?" A sudden cloud, out of place in the hot air, but determined to be noticed, veiled the rising moon, and suddenly Alex Krycek's face was visible to Mulder's straining eyes only as a pale glimmer in the dwindling light. All he could see was a ghostly mask from which dark smudges revealed the presence of what Mulder knew to be a truly remarkable pair of eyes, and from which a set of fine white teeth gleamed in mirth.

"What's it to you, G-man? You're outside your jurisdiction here. Don't you know you're in Canada now? We ain't in Kansas any more. Besides, allow me to point out to you that you were following me." The goading voice stripped Mulder of any good intentions he might have had. Rage consumed him as he contemplated the bastard that was lounging in front of him, mocking him as though he were a child. Gritting out a curse he stepped forward, fists up and mouth snarling. He had to hit. He had to wipe out the sneering face that was turned on him. He had to do whatever it took to rid himself of the sudden need that he'd suddenly begun to suspect in himself.

He drew back his balled fist and punched

Krycek, who had been lounging seemingly at ease against one of the red lacquered posts, was suddenly no longer in the way of the flailing fist, and Mulder heard a taunting chuckle as he pulled his punch, scant fractions of an inch from the wall. Turning towards the goading laugh, he growled a primitive challenge as he tried to gauge the other man's position. He was confused now, head buzzing red with rage and heart pounding all his blood into the space back of his eyes -

- And into his dick. He was hard, ramrod hard, and he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about that velvet voice caressing him with words as the intense, dark eyes lost focus beneath his kisses. He didn't want to think about the way those soft, rounded lips would feel on his skin, and he didn't want to feel his dick swell and throb inside jeans that were suddenly too fucking tight.

"Damn you, Krycek." He muttered, and instantly felt like a petulant child. Krycek had stopped his laughter now and the mocking voice drifted to him in a parody of intimacy that thrilled his cock even as it raised his blood pressure again.

"What is it, Mulder? You need me so much you have to follow me to Canada? I guess I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson."

Mulder snarled again. His teeth ground themselves in sheer rage and he leapt for Krycek's throat. Amazingly, this time the other man didn't move out of the way, and Mulder found himself bearing Krycek backwards into a waiting azalea bush as the pair of them crashed to the ground. Krycek seemed to be laughing under his breath, and as the two of them hit the ground, the whoop and gasp told of the breath being forced from his body. Mulder, in almost as difficult a case himself, found himself rolling over and over as each man tried for supremacy.

He could feel the hard thrust of Krycek's groin pressing into him, and worse, the answering rigidity of his own cock as it leapt under the pressure. Krycek had him by the throat again, and seemed intent on throttling him by degrees. Mulder had one hand buried into the other man's hair as he attempted to yank it out by the roots, while the other thumb dug harsh and painful into the bastard's armpit as he attempted to force him to let go. Both of them were making sounds of exertion, grunts and moans that betrayed the intensity of their emotions. Mulder felt a rock behind his foot, and using it for purchase, gave a sharp cry of triumph and rolled over to attain the uppermost position, fist coming up to aim for the other man's absurdity of a nose. Krycek jerked his head to one side, catching the blow on the side of his face and howling as Mulder's other hand tore loose what felt like a large portion of his scalp.

"I'll show you, you scumsucker" It seemed almost as if Mulder had forgotten what his grudge against Krycek was. He was gasping himself now and trying desperately not to grind his hips into the man he was pinning. Pressing himself onto Krycek's hard groin felt altogether too good. He really didn't want to do it.

Strike that. He wanted to do it desperately. He just didn't want to enjoy it.

Krycek had become aware of something, because he suddenly turned the hand that he had dug into Mulder's larynx, and snaked it around the other man's neck without warning. Laughing softly again, he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Why the fuck not?" and pulled his assailant in towards him, fixing his mouth onto Mulder's with a sweet ferocity that dragged every last ounce of coherent thought from Mulder's brain and fired up his cock until he shook.

This wasn't going the way he'd expected it to. He writhed in an attempt to break free, but only succeeded in driving a bolt of frenzied desire through himself as his own movement triggered off an increasingly irresistible flooding of lust throughout his lower body. His reward came when he heard Krycek give a gasp and felt him jerk his hips forward into Mulder's belly.

The two of them were still struggling, Mulder to get himself free, and Krycek to plaster every last inch of his warm, solid flesh against Mulder. Mulder suddenly realized that his heart wasn't in the battle. He gave a low cry and made one last, valiant attempt to get himself together, and tried to pull away, rolling to the right. The net result of this was a lurch as both of them suddenly rolled down the slope and fell into the ornamental pond to join sleepy carp and red eared turtles in their natural habitat.

Mercifully, the water was only a couple of feet deep, because as they tumbled down the hill Mulder's forehead smacked into the rocks that surrounded the water, and a dazzling sunburst of bright pain splintered his consciousness, and as the two tangled bodies entered the water, Mulder's consciousness fled.


"Come on, Mulder, wakey, wakey!"

He awoke to a sensation of cool wet flesh against him, a stupefying headache, and a mouthful of something slimy. Krycek had moved behind him, and now sat in the shallow water, pillowing Mulder against him as he waited patiently for him to come back to his senses.

"Oh, fuck!" Mulder moaned as he attempted to recover his shattered senses. Seen from his position as he lay in the other man's arms, Krycek seemed somehow fey, an elven lord in the moonlight, finely drawn in silver and sable, his pointed ears and sardonic smile lit by the moon that was now rising over the wall of the garden. Thickly fringed luminosity bent upon him as he turned his eyes to study the man he was holding.

"Mulder? You okay? I can't lift you out on my own. Come on." Mulder didn't move for the space of a heartbeat. He lay, looking up at the face that loomed over him, feeling the sick and exciting lurch of his gonads as he took in the sheer beauty of it.

"Krycek, I" Mulder stopped, afraid to speak for fear of destroying the moment. His heart hammered against his ribs as he gazed at the other man. Mulder watched as Krycek's teeth flashed in the moonlight, and then as he began to stir within Krycek's grasp, the other lowered his head to kiss Mulder's mouth once more. The lips were soft and plush against his, and his tongue flickered as it slipped between Mulder's lips to invade him, seeming to search out sensitivities as it stroked against delicate membranes. Mulder moaned, froze, and then suddenly gave it up and reached his arms up to slip around Krycek's neck as he began to kiss him back.

Once begun, he couldn't stop kissing Alex Krycek, couldn't contemplate letting him go as he consumed the other man. His lips slid over slick skin and the taste of Krycek was sharp and sweet against his palate as he sucked on the man's lips and held his head between the palms of his two hands.

A sudden splash and something walking across his partly submerged chest convinced him that he really ought not to be here, sitting in this pool with a known felon, making out like a teenager. He thrust the creature from him, discovering it to be a small and indignant turtle. Uttering a groan that sounded hollow down to the very soles of his feet, he stood up. Krycek paused for a beat, and then rose up himself, and began to climb out of the water.

From superheated, Mulder became chilly, feeling a shiver as gooseflesh overtook him and caused his skin to creep. Alex Krycek followed behind him, and caught him as he swayed and sat down abruptly, suddenly dizzy. The soggy denim of his jeans clung to his legs, binding them as he plopped down onto the gritty pathway, and Krycek moved over to the azalea, and rooted through a back pack that he'd tossed under the low growing branches. As Mulder sat and dripped, Krycek moved over to him, encouraging him to remove his soaking wet T-shirt, and then wrapping his shoulders in a dry towel. He felt Krycek's hands on him, and couldn't resist nestling into him as his arms went around him and his hands began to dry him vigorously.

The world was sliding mysteriously past him in a strange kind of strobe effect. He was somehow frozen in time as the other man - his hated nemesis - dried him, and then tugged him to his feet, helping him off with his wet jeans and chivvying him over to where he'd spread a sleeping bag out upon the ground.

Dumbly he moved with Krycek, going wherever he was taken, and lying down on the sleeping bag when prompted to do so. Krycek, backlit by the moon, was an ivory mystery with dark, brooding hollows where his eyes might have been. The smooth marble of his body gleamed against the canopy of stars, revealed in teasing glimpses as he peeled away the armor of his clothing. Mulder thought fancifully that there might be a halo around him, and was entranced.

Krycek lay down beside him at last. He reached for Mulder and covered him with the smooth silk of his body, lying against him and sharing the warmth that he was generating. In a dream, Mulder ran his hands over Krycek's back, feeling the muscles ripple and flow beneath the heft of his hands. He traced the hollow at the base of Krycek's spine, and raised his mouth up to him for the kiss that must surely come.

Krycek groaned and lowered his head until his lips could touch Mulder's. His arms had circled Mulder, and the heat from his body seeped into Mulder, warming the chilled flesh. As his mouth sealed itself to Mulder's, Mulder gave himself up to the sweet feelings that coursed through him. Krycek's lips pressed his and his tongue explored the fastness of his mouth. His body was warm and satin smooth. His arms were strong and his hands were stroking him, touching him, pinching and caressing until he could no longerthink of anything but the steady pulse and throb of his erection, and the need to feel more, now, right now.

Krycek's mouth was delicious as he slid it over Mulder's skin, and Mulder thought that he would forget his own name. He moved lower and lower until at last Mulder could feel hot breath against his balls, and screwed up his face in the attempt to will Krycek to open that soft, pretty mouth and suck him inside. He was desperate for Krycek to use that forked and lying tongue once more to spin a web of deceit, and make him believe that he wanted Mulder for anything except a joke.

Senses overloaded to the final degree, Mulder moaned, thrust his hips up and felt with a kind of fatalistic ecstasy the surge of bliss that pierced him as Krycek took him into his mouth and began to suck.

The man was skilled, there were no two ways about it. He rolled Mulder's dick into his mouth and his nimble tongue knew where to stroke and just when to stop while the pounding impossible lightening subsided. Mulder shrank for a second or two as unfamiliar pressure against his anus gave him a fear that Krycek might be wanting to use him in a way he might not like, but as a finger entered his small opening, he began to relax, permitting the invasion. A minute later, as the finger delved deeper, stroking inside him, Mulder forgot his fears and began to whimper, knowing that he'd allow anything just so long as Krycek would continue to stroke him just there.

"You okay, Mulder?" Krycek's voice, breathier than ever, floated to him in gentle inquiry. The devil finger stroked against him, almost sending him into a seizure as he strove to maximize contact with whatever it was. His ass writhed sluttishly against Krycek's hand and he moaned, bucking against the lips that were clinging to his cock. Krycek laughed shortly.

"You like that?" He asked, dragging the pad of his forefinger over the hard bud of his prostate, causing Mulder to arch against him all over again, prior to sucking his dick deep into his mouth once more.

Mulder could find no words, couldn't have recalled his name if he'd been offered a million dollars for the answer. His world had narrowed to a heated glow around his loins, where lightning flickered and pleasure tingled in torrents, building at the base of his spine and behind his knees, waiting to unleash a tide of sensation on him.

Krycek sucked hard. His tongue swirled around the head of Mulder's cock and then he dropped his head, taking all of Mulder, every last inch down to the root. The finger he'd inserted inside Mulder's ass stroked over the little gland, and pressed itself close to the base of Mulder's penis as he worked his magic on Mulder.

All of a sudden it became too much for Mulder to take. His orgasm, when it came, was incredible, the intensity of the sensations as much due to the internal stimulation as to Krycek's mouth working on his cock. Mulder could feel himself spurting his essence into Krycek's hot, sucking mouth, and knew as his muscles contracted that Krycek was swallowing his fluids down to the last drop.

As he slumped into a featureless heap, he could feel Krycek's mouth still working on him, still sucking, and amazingly, getting a response from a dick that Mulder would have sworn had shot its bolt for the night.His mind reeled as his cock stood proud once more, and his body began to shake all over again.

"Stop Krycek, I can't " The husky laughter that came from the other man gave him a fluttering sensation that started within his belly, somewhere in back of his navel, and grew until his chest was tight and his breathing became difficult.

"Sure you can, Fox. You can do anything. Anything. Trust me." And Mulder couldn't find the words to argue, couldn't do anything except give himself over to the prickling pleasure that bathed his limbs. When Krycek spread himself against him, finding his lips again with urgently demanding need, Mulder could only throw his arms around him, straining against him, moaning into the slick depths of his mouth as he grabbed at the other man's taut flesh.

Krycek's hands teased and probed, while his mouth devoured, his tongue expertly finding the spots inside his mouth that made him shudder. When their lips finally parted, Krycek's chest was heaving and the eyes were so bright Mulder fancied that he might drown himself in the light from them. Krycek's hand fluttered over him, stroking and teasing.

"Kry " His voice was stopped by the application of lips that expertly removed all coherence from his brain, filling it with nonsense. He felt as though he could fly. The softness of the sleeping bag against the skin of his back was a magic carpet delivering him up to the mouth and hands of this man in the safe, dark fastness of starlight.

"Alex My name is Alex." Breathy and filled with need, the man who had named himself Alex paused in his systematic destruction of Mulder's will power to admonish him, and Mulder repeated the word, making it a prayer as it fell from his lips.

He didn't speak again, but his lambent eyes glowed as he leaned into Mulder, and Mulder found himself saying the name again and again while Alex himself held him and moaned sweet sounds of need into his waiting ear.

At last Mulder rolled over to cover his erstwhile aggressor, and felt the hard presence of his rearing penis as it dug into his belly. He shivered as Alex raised his legs to circle his waist, and knew in that moment what he needed, and what Alex wanted from him. He spat onto his hand, and reached down carefully to apply the saliva to the area around Krycek - - - Alex's slowly writhing ass. Centering his dick, he began to apply pressure, aware that it might be painful to the other man, and finding the idea of that to be inordinately arousing.

He wasn't prepared for Alex's next move, which was to impale himself, grinding upwards to pin himself on Mulder's erection as though it were nothing, or everything. He cried out as he felt the heat and constriction around his cock, knowing that he was helpless in this man's arms.

The pulsing, rippling texture of Alex surrounded him, and he was sure that he would die if he didn't move, didn't push home as far as he could go, and bury himself inside the slick heat. As he ducked his head, overcome by the sweet fire that pulsed through him, Alex found his lips again, and held him in a kiss as intense as ever he'd known. He plunged now, and Alex met him each time, move for move, never letting him think. The rhythm and feel of it took him, warmed him, superheated him until there was nothing left in all the world but this, and this was home.

Alex stiffened and Mulder felt him clench his muscles as he cried out and let go, spurting between their bodies until they were slick and messy. Seconds later he was there with Alex, his own juices pumping from him in a bursting flood that traced sweet fire through him and left him tingling.

Slowly, they slumped to lie alongside each other. Mulder lost himself in the beating of Alex's heart as it pounded a counterpoint to the slap and gurgle of the water against the stones. Naked and complete, they soaked up each other's warmth as they rested.

At last, Alex raised himself up on his elbow.

"Do we have to go back? I don't want to go back."

Mulder smiled and stretched a little, feeling himself made new in the crackle of his joints as he moved.

"We'll go forward, not back. Come with me?"