Testing, testing. I hope this is the right place.Warning, this is my first try at an X-Files story. Hopefully, I'll improvewith practice.

Disclaimer: Chris Carter, 1013 productions and Fox Broadcasting own TheX-Files, and its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. No profitis being made. Please don't sue me.

This is a slash story. This means sex between consenting adults who happento both be male. If this offends, DON'T READ IT!

Not beta'd. Solely the product of my own twisted mind.

This is an A/U. Set at some *very* undefined point in the series, and Krychekhas both arms (I'm not into missing limbs, myself).

This is my first attempt at an X-Files fanfic, but my other stories (Voyager,Sentinel, Professionals, Once a Thief, War of the Worlds, Hercules, La FemmeNikita and Tokyo Babylon <whew>) can be found at: http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Metro/4859/Lianne.html

Feedback desperately craved at lburwell@adan.kingston.net


A Quiet Night At Home
by Lianne Burwell
June 1998


Mulder opened the door to his apartment and went in, not bothering to turnon the lights. His travel bag, he dropped on the floor next to the door.His overcoat was tossed somewhere in the direction of the kitchen table.He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, leaving the sound off fornow, hoping that he would be able to find something interesting to watch.It had been almost a month since the last time he'd had a decent night'ssleep, and it didn't look like tonight was going to buck the trend.

It had been a lousy week. The reports of UFO sightings in Maine had been*so* promising, but in the end, they had turned to actually * be* weatherballoons, of a new design. He would have accepted any other explanation,but weather balloons were just so... cliched.

Mulder was headed for the bathroom, tugging at his tie as he went, whenhe heard it. The soft sound of someone clearing his throat. Cursing himselffor letting his guard down, he turned around to face the figure standingin the shadows in the corner of he room. He squinted for a moment, tryingto make out who it was, then sighed.

"What is it now, Krychek?" he asked, not even bothering to pullhis gun. There were times he thought that Krychek had watched too much StarTrek. The way he turned up, out of the blue, made mysterious comments andsent Mulder off on roadtrips that invariably got him into hot water. Whodid Krychek think he was? Q?

The double-, triple-, whatever-agent stepped forward into the light comingfrom the television set. He was pouting. Mulder wanted to sigh. Krychekwas a little too old to be pouting, no matter how adorable it made him look."I just came by to see how you were doing."

"Riiight. What is it this time? Bigfoot is alive and well and workingfor the CIA? Elvis was injected with alien DNA, and that's why he *really*died? The Consortium has taken over Coca-Cola Ltd. and is going to comeout with a new flavor that has psychedelics mixed in? You never just *drop*by, Krychek. What do you want?"

Mulder waited. He really didn't have the energy for this right now. It wasn'tthat he didn't like Krychek. Hell, sometime he liked the man better as atraitorous rat-bastard than he did as the over-eager FBI agent, even ifhe did indulge himself in beating the younger man up almost every time theyran into each other. Like just didn't play a part in their relationship,if you could call it that.

Krychek's head was cocked to the side, and he was studying the shiftinglight reflected of the ceiling. "What do I want?" he said, mostlyto himself. "I want world peace, the consortium gone and the aliensto turn out to be cuddly, friendly people who will bring great technologicaladvances and wipe out world hunger." Mulder couldn't help himself.He snorted. He snickered. He laughed. And it wasn't really that funny. Hewas tired. That had to be why he was practically rolling on the floor, laughing.

When he wiped away the few tears that had oozed out during his laughingfit, he found Krychek grinning at him. "Thanks," he said. "Ineeded that. Now, really. What *are* you here for?"

Krychek looked a little sheepish. "I really don't know. I was in thearea, just passing through, and I got the urge to stop by and say 'hi'.Nothing more."

Mulder snorted. He still didn't buy it, but he'd play along for the timebeing. "Fine. Care for a beer?"

* * * * *

A couple of hours later, Mulder was feeling tipsy, and more than a littlesilly. One beer had become two, then three. A scan of the television founda channel playing "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes", and Mulderhad found out that it was a lot more fun watching it with someone else thanit was alone. Some of the comments Krychek made... Mulder snickered to himself.Just the whole idea of spending a night at home with Krychek, no guns, nopunches, no assassins popping through the door, was almost an X-File initself.

After the end of the movie, they switched to Mystery Science Theatre 3000,and were having a ball trying to top the comments that the characters onthe show were making about the incredibly cheesy B-movie. Mulder was feelingvery relaxed by the time the end credits rolled, and was actually beginningto think he might get a decent night's sleep after all.

Finally, he turned off the television, and stood to stretch all the musclesin his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Krychek do the same, andcouldn't help smiling at how cat-like it made the man look. The usual leatherjacket had been discarded, and the other man had kicked off his shoes, leavingonly jeans, t-shirt and white socks. Mulder's jacket and tie had also disappearedduring the evening, along with his tie (accompanied by snickers from Krychek),and his shirt was partly undone. Containers from an ordered-in meal of Chinesefood were spread across the coffee table.

"Well," he said, feeling almost boneless after the stretch andtrying to hide a yawn. "I'm ready for bed."

"Me too. Let's go."

Mulder blinked for a minute, trying to interpret Krychek's statement. Eventually,all he could think of to say was: "Huh?"

"You know. Bed. The place where one sleeps and engages in other activities."

"I usually sleep on the couch," Mulder said. And I must be doingthat right now, he thought, because this conversation is making absolutely*no* sense.

"No wonder you look like you've been folded into a pretzel so manymornings. C'mon."

Mulder was so busy trying to figure out what Krychek was up to that he didn'tresist when the young man took his hand and pulled him into the bedroom.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Krychek said, shaking his head at the state ofthe bed. "You really should do housework a little more often."

While Mulder stood in the doorway, Krychek started to push books and laundryoff the bed, leaving it in piles on the floor. Once the bedspread had beenexposed, he folded it back, then turned to Mulder.

"Now, normally, one doesn't wear clothes to bed," he informedMulder, and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Of course, you'renot exactly what anyone would cal *normal*, are you?" His hands headedfor Mulder's belt buckle, and Mulder stopped him.

"Krychek, what are you doing?"

Krychek blinked at him through his lashes, in what had to be the worst impressionof an 'oh-so-innocent' look. "I'm putting you to bed, silly."

Mulder's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Then what?"

"I go to bed."



Mulder groaned. "What, you've decided that since we didn't beat eachother up, you'd seduce me instead? And what brought *that* on?"

Krychek grinned. "Why do you think I keep turning up? And for onceI'm not handcuffed or too bruised to try anything, and if you think I'mgoing to pass up the chance." He leaned forward and kissed Mulder,then started undoing Mulder's pants. "You've got another thing coming."He gave a small leer. Mulder's pants were down around his ankles beforehe could form a reply.

"You expect me to believe you've been wanting to... you know... fora *while*?"

Krychek gave him an exasperated look. "Well, why else would I stickaround? Sure, I want to bring the Consortium down. Sure, I want to exposethe cover-ups. But *really*, Mulder. I could have done all that from SouthAmerica or something, and a lot more safely, too." He had finishedundressing the unresisting Mulder, and getting his own clothes off. "Butnoooo. I keep coming around, getting beat up and handcuffed (not that I*mind* handcuffs in the right setting, mind you). Or worse, you hand meover to Skinner or Scully to keep an eye on." He turned Mulder around,and pushed him onto the bed.

"But now we've actually had a pleasant, social-type evening. Dinnerand a movie. No yelling, not fighting. Why not end it right?"

With that, Krychek landed on top of Mulder, driving the air out of his lungs.While he was gasping for air, the other man's mouth came down in a verydetermined kiss. When Mulder's lungs were screaming for air, be pulled back.

"Besides," he said, conversationally. "Considering the lifeyou lead, you must have a permanent case of blue balls. Don't you *every*get lucky?"

Not lately, Mulder's libido pointed out. What the hell, why not? He couldalways beat Krychek up later.

Mulder twisted, and succeeded in rolling on top of Krychek. "Handcuffs,huh?" He tilted his head as he considered the idea. "Nah,"he finally said. "Maybe next time."

Krychek was positively beaming by that point. The sort of sunny, open grinthat Mulder had only seen a couple of times when they were partners, andnever since Krychek had been exposed as a Consortium agent and had hit theground running.

Mulder started shifting his weight, slowly rubbing against Krychek's entirebody. "So," he asked in mild tone. "What do we do now?"He followed the question by a lick, then a suck at Krychek's neck. It leftthe most *interesting* sort of mark.

Krychek gaped at him for a moment, then laughed. "What? You've nevertried this before?" Mulder shook his head, and rubbed a little closer.His erection was growing nicely, and Krychek's was practically burning ahole in his hip. "Just keep doing what you're doing," the youngman gasped. "You're doing just fine."

Mulder decided that was a good idea, especially since his hips didn't exactlyseem to be answering to his commands anymore. He managed to coax them intomoving over a little bit, so that the two cocks were rubbing against eachother. He gasped at the unfamiliar, but *definitely* pleasurable, feelingthat the caress caused, and pressed his lips against Krychek's.

The glide of tongue against tongue soon had him moaning. It had definitelybeen too long since the last time he'd gotten laid. In fact, he couldn'treally *remember* the last time, but he was sure gonna remember *this* time.Maybe he *shouldn't* have been so quick to turn down all those invitationsfrom men over the years.

He was grinding himself against Krychek's body, when the man decided toexchange their positions again. Mulder was looking down at Krychek one moment,looking up into his face the next. Then Krychek lowered himself, controllingthe thrusts himself this time. Funny, Mulder gasped to himself, I neverthought that nipples rubbing against nipples could be *this* exciting.

Unfortunately, he wasn't really able to exercise much self-control by thispoint, and it must have been nearly as long for Krychek, since no soonerhad Mulder painted their chest with white liquid, Krychek was adding hisown touches.

Krychek collapsed on top of him, and the yawns were already forcing theirway loose. Mulder rolled his partner over to the side, and slung an armacross the other man's chest, before drifting off to sleep.

* * * * *

Sometime during the night, Mulder woke to find Krychek giving him what wasarguably the best blow-job of his life. Of course, he could count on onehand the number of blow-jobs he'd ever received. He moaned, and shifted,while Krychek held his hips and hoovered down every drop he could get outof Mulder.

Once he'd gotten his breath back, Mulder returned the favor. He didn't do*quite* as good a job, it being his first time (he hadn't realized thatscraping teeth would cause such an *interesting* screech), but he resolvedto do better next time.

Next time? Yeah, there was going to be a next time, if *he* had anythingto say in the matter.

* * * * *

Mulder woke again, into the grey light just before dawn. Krychek was gettingdressed.

Mulder stood up, and went to wrap his arms around the younger man. "So,"he said, after kissing Krychek under the ear. "Any preference in moviesfor next time?"

"Nah," Krychek said with a smile. "Anything will do. ButI'll bring dinner."

"And the handcuffs."

Krychek grinned, then was gone.

Okay, Mulder thought. Maybe he wasn't *completely* like Q. Then again...Hadn't Scully mentioned that there were people on the internet writing sexstories about Picard and Q? Maybe he should look a few of them up. Mightgive him some ideas for the next time Krychek came calling.

This was *definitely* more fun that beating him up.