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Disclaimers: about how none of the XF characters in this story belong to me and how I'm a Bad Girl for stealing them and writing naughty stories about them.

Other: to the people who own hotels on this unidentified island, men named Raoul, and the makers of Tidy Bowl. Apologies also to Anna, who wanted nothing but sugary romance. Some other elements seem to have crept into this effort.

Beta: Rachel very kindly undertook beta reading this one and where I didn't make corrections, or errors remain, it's just my stubbornness and not her fault at all.

Author: annezo @ fastmail . fm

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A BLUE SEA

 Mulder stared out across the blue ocean and wondered how he'd ever been talked into such a stupid idea.

"Relax," his partner had insisted. "Take some time off, Mulder, before you have a breakdown."

"Get out of here," Skinner had ordered. "Australia. The Bahamas. The North Pole. I don't give a damn -- just go. I want you as far away from this office as you can get and I don't want you back in Washington for at least three weeks."

"With all due respect, sir," Mulder had tried to interrupt. The only thing he was less interested in than a vacation was an enforced, and extended, one.

"Go." Skinner's voice made it clear that the discussion was over.

Mulder had been at a loss for ideas. Scully, upon finding him paging listlessly through brochures for a Druid Tour of Great Britain ("Prophets or Madmen? Did this ancient cult hold the secrets of the universe?"), had put her foot down.

"Hand it over, Mulder."

"What?"

"The credit card. Give it here." She snatched the piece of plastic from his hand.

"Remember my credit limit, Scully," he warned.

"Don't worry, Mulder," she soothed. "I'll leave enough to carry you through until payday."

"If you book one of those fun tours full of octogenarians and pre-pubescent kids, I'll report you to the AMA," he threatened.

He had to admit she had taken the threat seriously. Mulder glanced around. Sunshine. Blue skies. White sands. Sapphire waters. At intervals, a few bodies broiled in the brilliant sunshine. Not an octogenarian or an adolescent in sight. Lethargic waiters paced between the bar and the sun lounges scattered around the pristine beach. The air smelled like exotic spices, salt water, and flowers.

Another fucking day in paradise, he thought morosely. He took a drink of the juice-laden concoction the waiter had pressed into his hand. Raoul was seriously worried by Mulder's refusal to accept a glass of wine or one of the more exotic cocktails favored by the other guests.

Raoul. Raoul was 21. He was working summers while he studied for his degree in architecture. Raoul had two sisters, a mother, four uncles, and a drunken cousin. Raoul did not believe in UFO's or in alien intelligence. He did believe in government conspiracies. In fact, he believed government was a conspiracy on the part of the rich to keep the poor downtrodden and out of power. Raoul had barely missed receiving a government grant that would have allowed him to finish his studies without working on the side. Raoul was very bitter.

Mulder was very bored. Either that, or Scully was right and he was headed for a breakdown. Nothing else could explain the way he had encouraged the pugnacious young man to share his entire life's story over glasses of canned tomato juice at the bar the night before.

Raoul had switched to vodka halfway through the evening. Things had definitely gone downhill from there. Mulder had steered the more-than-tipsy youngster toward the staff quarters at about two in the morning.

"They will be less angry if they believe I was entertaining a guest," Raoul had slurred.

"No problem." Mulder concentrated on keeping Raoul's not-inconsiderable weight balanced over his leaden feet.

Raoul stopped in the middle of the path. "Mr. Mulder," he said loudly. "I like you a very great much."

"That's great. We'll do lunch." Mulder tugged one unresponsive arm.

"I am not hungry at this moment," Raoul dismissed. He waved his arm and almost toppled over, saving himself by a frantic clutch on Mulder's shoulders and a loud cry.

"Shhhh!" Mulder looked around uneasily. At any moment, lights would start going on in the hotel. This could be awkward.

"We have a very big problem, Mr. Mulder." Raoul draped his arms over Mulder's shoulders and stared at him drunkenly. "I do not wish to be a homosexual for you."

"What?" Mulder had to remind himself to keep his own voice lowered.

"Because I have talk with you very simpatico and because I have let you buy me a very great many drinks, you think I will be a homosexual for you. This is not so."

The drunken idiot could find his own way back to his room. "Fuck you," Mulder told him in disgust.

"No." Raoul shook his head stubbornly. "This is what I am telling you."

"Wait until you're asked," Mulder mumbled. Jesus. Just my luck.

"Your pardon?"

"I said," Mulder hissed. "No one asked you to!"

Raoul considered that, looking for clarification. "You do not want me to be a homosexual for you?"

"Stop saying that! No, I don't."

"That is good." Raoul turned back toward his quarters, pulling Mulder with him by sheer inertia. "Because I like you very much indeed, Mr. Mulder. And yet, the summer is new and I may yet make large tips." He shrugged. "Perhaps by the end of the summer if the tips are bad, I would change my mind."

"Really?" Mulder tried to decide which door Raoul's unsteady feet were headed for. "How interesting."

"Very true." Raoul nodded and started digging in his pockets for his key. "I tell you what." He beamed at Mulder. "You will give me your address and if the tips are small, I will write to you and you can return."

"You do that." Mulder watched Raoul stumble across the threshold of his room, then headed for his own bungalow, shaking his head. I can't look that fucking hard up. Can I?

That had been last night. Raoul's mood didn't seem to be improved by the effects of the bright sunshine on his hangover. Mulder was grateful for the man's silence. With any luck, Raoul wouldn't remember their newly forged friendship.

Mulder shifted his feet farther into the shade. He had had enough of sunbathing by the end of his first morning on the beach, but, mindful of Scully's instructions, he had spent three full days moving between sun and shade, applying judicious coats of sunscreen and trying not to burn his unaccustomed skin. He had actually managed to acquire a faint sheen of bronze color by the end of the third day.

Today he had pulled one of the lounges over to a quiet corner in the shade of a tall tree. They can make me go on vacation, but they can't make me have a good time. It was possibly his most childish moment since the age of fifteen, but he didn't care. Mulder was bored out of his mind and cursing the foresight that had caused Scully to guarantee his stay for a full two weeks.

"Howdy, stranger." The soft voice interrupted his sulking and a shiver ran down his spine.

Impossible. Mulder refused to open his eyes. Great. Hallucinations.

"What? No fatted calf? No big hug and a kiss? No parade down Main Street?"

Mulder opened his eyes and glared at the dark-haired figure standing a few feet away.

"Krycek." He put enough venom into the name to poison a small town. "How in the hell did you find me?"

"I didn't." Krycek dropped the sun lounge he had been pulling along behind him, positioning it in the unoccupied corner of the shady spot.

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting down." Alex suited the action to the words, flipping the large, white towel over the wood of the chair and stretching out sensuously. He was wearing nothing but a pair of sunglasses and a black bathing suit.

"Why? Why here? How did you find me?"

"Because the sand is hot. Because it's easier to talk without the entire beach between us. I didn't."

"You said that before. What does it mean?"

"I'm on vacation," Krycek said comfortably. "As I presume you are. I saw you when I was putting my stuff away. Quite a coincidence, isn't it? "

"Coincidence, my ass," Mulder said bluntly. "What the hell do you want?"

"Some sun. A few good meals. A little conversation. A lot of sleep." Alex glanced at him and smiled. "The rest of the usual vacation perks."

"Why here?"

Alex folded his arms behind his head and looked at him. "It's a nice place. My travel agent suggested it."

Who in the hell knew where he was? Only Scully. And who had sent Alex Krycek after him? "I don't believe you." Mulder eyed him narrowly. Actually, Alex did look tired and pale.

Alex shrugged. "Your choice."

"Did Scully tell you I was here?" The words were out before Mulder realized just how stupid they were.

"You got it." Alex chuckled. "Me and Scully, we're good buddies, you know. Like this," he held up crossed fingers. "She keeps me up-to-date on all your moves."

"Tell me the truth. What are you here for?"

"The truth." Alex looked tired. "I'm on vacation, Mulder. I don't do truth on vacation."

"You wouldn't know it if you stepped in it, anyhow," Mulder snapped.

"How about a truce?" Alex sat up and leaned forward. "We're here. We're unarmed. We're thousands of miles from them, and Scully, and Skinner, and the X-Files, and all of that crap. Just two guys on vacation who happen to wind up in the same resort. Deal?"

Mulder thought about it, trying to gauge the odds. "Deal. You keep your distance from me and I'll leave you alone."

Alex leaned back. "That wasn't exactly what I meant."

Mulder waited, watching an errant breeze ruffle Alex's dark hair lightly.

"Actually, I was thinking of inviting you to dinner."

"Why?"

"Conversation? Food?"

"We don't have anything to talk about. And I'm not hungry."

"That's okay. It's a while until dinner time. We can work on topics of mutual interest between now and then. But not," Alex stared at him grimly, "anything to do with the Bureau or your work. No hitting, no shooting, no questions about the past."

Mulder was confused. Not an unusual sensation when Krycek was around, but still unpleasant. "What are you saying?"

"Pretend we're strangers, Mulder," Alex explained patiently. "Just a couple of guys on vacation, getting acquainted. We'll have a couple of drinks, a few laughs, and then go eat. Maybe after dinner we'll go out."

"I don't drink." It was all he could think of. As Skinner had pointed out just a few days before, all the Bureau definitely had on Alex Krycek was that he had quit his job without notice. Hardly a federal offense. Everything else that Mulder suspected him of was just that -- suspicion. Krycek's importance to the Bureau had been downgraded since Scully's unexpected return and miraculous recovery. Mulder was acutely aware that he was unarmed, and without authority, in a strange country.

"I'll buy you some orange juice." Alex interrupted his brooding.

"No." Mulder stood up. "Forget it." He could just leave, go sit somewhere else. Anywhere Krycek wasn't.

"If you go sit somewhere else, I'm just going to follow you," Alex pointed out. "About the fifth time you change chairs, we're going to start attracting a lot of attention."

"Why are you doing this?"

Alex grinned wickedly, his eyes narrowed against the reflected glare of the sun on the water. "I've decided to spend my vacation with you."

Mulder was speechless. Before he could formulate one of the ten thousand good reasons he was sure existed to prove this was purest insanity, Alex had waved the sullen Raoul over and ordered a drink.

"What's he drinking?" Alex gestured toward the glass in Mulder's hand and raised his eyebrows at Raoul.

"A very nice blend of local fruit juices blended smooth with crystal-pure ice," Raoul recited. He looked from Alex to Mulder curiously.

"No wonder you're in a shitty mood," Alex told Mulder. He shrugged. "Bring him another one," he told Raoul.

"Very nice, sir." Raoul slogged across the sand toward the bar.

"Cheerful soul, isn't he?" Alex slipped on his sunglasses and stared after Raoul's retreating form. "I guess it's hard to get good help nowadays."

"It's the hangover," Mulder said thoughtlessly. He resumed his seat on the sun lounge gingerly, expecting a bomb to go off. Nothing would surprise him at this moment.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like the voice of experience. Is that why you're drinking that slop today?" He nodded toward the glass. "Were we out partying with the locals last night?"

"Knock it off. I don't drink." Mulder drained the glass defiantly. And too quickly. He sat motionless, waiting for the exquisite pain between his eyes to subside as the frozen liquid hit a nerve in the back of his throat.

A moment later, he felt warm fingers on his forehead and temples. Surprisingly, the soothing touch seemed to ease the sharp ache. By the time he opened his eyes, Alex was reseating himself in the other lounge.

"Better?" Alex's attention seemed to be focused on the figure of Raoul, returning with two frosty glasses on a shaky tray.

"Sure. Thanks," Mulder said ungraciously. He toyed with the empty glass until Raoul reached them with the fresh drinks.

Alex intercepted Raoul, taking the empty glass from Mulder's hand and giving him the replacement. He took his own drink and scribbled on the bill carelessly. "Thanks. That's all," he told Raoul firmly.

The young man looked insulted. He glared at Alex, then at Mulder, his gaze seeming to demand that his simpatico friend rescue him from the so-rude stranger.

The devil and the deep, Mulder decided. In a flash of insight, he realized he preferred Krycek's dishonesty to Raoul's drunken complaints. In the past ten minutes, his vacation had suddenly acquired life. In place of the bored lethargy with which he had been contemplating the next ten days, Mulder was aware of a surge of excitement. Energy. Danger.

Whatever else he was, Krycek wasn't boring. Mulder looked at the ocean, watching the waves glitter with the late afternoon sun. After a moment, he heard Raoul moving away. I didn't know it was possible to stomp on sand.

"Good friend of yours?" Alex's voice interrupted his solitary thoughts.

"No. He's been here for the past few days. We've talked a few times."

Alex's disinterest was obvious. "So, what do you say? Do we have a truce?"

Mulder didn't see any alternative, unless he wanted Alex chasing him all over the island. And somehow he didn't doubt the younger man was quite capable of carrying out that particular threat. "Yeah. Whatever."

"Such enthusiasm." Alex's mouth twisted wryly. "I'm flattered."

"You want enthusiasm, go talk to someone who likes you."

"I'd rather be with you." Mulder glanced at him, surprised and Alex grinned. "So, what's the best restaurant on the island?"

"I don't know. I've been eating at the hotel."

"Every day?" Alex pulled off the dark glasses, looking appalled. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a few days," Mulder said defensively. "I was going to go out and look around but . . . ."

"But you've been sitting here sulking," Alex finished the sentence for him. "I saw you as I walked up. What's the matter, someone steal your puppy?"

Mulder glared at him, but Alex looked concerned, in spite of his flippant words. "I am not sulking," he said coolly. "I am on vacation. For three weeks."

Alex laughed. "You've got to be kidding. They kicked you out, right? Told you to take some time off and not to come back until you were calmer."

"I suppose you already knew that." Mulder's suspicions returned in full force.

"No," Alex denied. "I could read it in your face. You look like a ten year-old who's been told that the circus is in town but he's not going."

Mulder resented the comparison but he had to admit privately that Krycek's assessment wasn't that far off.

"You're the only guy I know who would carry a chip on his shoulder about being ordered to spend three weeks at a luxury resort."

"Two weeks," Mulder corrected. "Scully only booked the hotel for two weeks. After that," he shrugged, "I guess I get to pick for myself."

Alex turned away and took a sip from the moisture-coated glass in his hand. His shoulders were shaking. After a moment, Mulder realized the other man was laughing. "What in the hell is so funny?"

"You mean . . . ." Alex could barely speak. "They didn't even trust you to book it for yourself? You had to let Scully do it?"

Mulder's face burned. "Yes. And she picked the spot too," he said bitterly. "Otherwise I wouldn't have the pleasure of your company."

Alex sat up, trying to smother his laughter. "Remind me to send her roses. Anonymously, of course." He started to take a drink, then choked on the liquid and his renewed laughter. "Was Skinner in on it too?"

"Yes." Mulder stared at the ocean, his lips twitching. "They ganged up on me, if that's what you're asking." He was not going to laugh.

"If I sent him flowers, he'd probably have me shot," Alex mourned. His face was alight with real, honest enjoyment.

"If you're quite done," Mulder said with exquisite politeness. "I'll be leaving now."

"Oh no you don't." Alex jumped up and faced him. "We're having dinner, remember? It was part of the deal."

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

Alex started to respond, then stopped and stared at Mulder through narrowed eyes. "I see."

"You see, what?"

"If you already had a hot date," Alex said smoothly, "all you had to do was say so."

"I do not have a hot date," Mulder said furiously. He thought of Raoul's maudlin conversation with a shudder. "I just . . . ."

" . . . don't trust me," Alex finished gently. "Even though I've given you my word. Not even unarmed, in public, across a dinner table."

Mulder hesitated. He wasn't afraid of Alex Krycek. Dinner was dinner. Why not?

"What have you been doing with yourself, Mulder?"

"When?" Alex's question interrupted his thoughts.

"Since you got here."

Mulder shrugged. "Sitting on the beach. Reading. Running."

"A pretty exciting program." Alex nodded. "I can see how you might hate to have such a full schedule interrupted."

"I'm on vacation," Mulder said defensively. What was it about Krycek that made it so easy for the man to get to him? "I don't have to do anything. In fact," he scowled at the memory. "I'm under strict orders not to."

"Doctor Scully?"

"Yeah."

"Did she order you not to share your meals with deserters, too?"

"You're not a deserter," Mulder corrected absently. He frowned at Alex. "I mean, we don't have any proof that you are. You're . . . "

"Yes?"

Mulder dropped the game, looking at Alex steadily. "What are you, Alex?"

"Hungry."

That was apparently all he was going to get. Mulder threw up his hands. "I don't suppose you can poison my food without someone noticing. Let's go."

"Gracious, as always." Alex grinned and stood up, brushing off some accumulated sand.

They headed toward the row of small, private bungalows lining the tree-shaded walkway near the hotel.

"I'm staying here." Mulder gestured at one bungalow near the end of the row. "Are you in the hotel?"

"No, I'm there." Alex pointed to the small building next to Mulder's and Mulder's suspicious hackles raised again. "If you're going to start seeing conspiracies in everything that happens," Alex started impatiently. Then he grinned. "Well, come to think of it, that's what you do, isn't it?"

Mulder stopped and folded his arms. "How did you wind up here?"

Alex sighed. "I saw you at the airport and followed you until you got on the plane, okay?"

"I don't believe you," Mulder said. "I've been here for four days."

"Are you asking what took me so long?" Alex teased. "I had something I had to finish." He watched Mulder closely. "Nothing criminal," he added pointedly.

Mulder wanted to say something that would advertise his complete distrust of that statement but while he was searching for the perfect phrase, the moment passed. "I'm going to take a shower."

Alex nodded. "I'll see you in thirty minutes."

After the two men separated, Mulder took a long, cooling shower, washing off the accumulated sand and sweat from the day. He rinsed out his swim trunks and draped them over the shower rail to dry. Walking into the bedroom, he pulled out a pair of light shorts and a t-shirt, dressing slowly. He deliberately avoided thinking. About Krycek's appearance on the island. About the wisdom of spending any time with the man who was probably allied with his worst enemies. About how the past hour had already been the most enjoyable part of his vacation. About anything.

Don't think," he could remember Scully saying. "Relax. Try to enjoy yourself. Be spontaneous."

Mulder pulled on his shoes and headed toward the door. Whatever you say, Scully.

Alex led him to the small bus that carried hotel guests to the small town center every evening and they rode in silence. Alex seemed to know where they were headed, leading Mulder to a small restaurant just off of the main road. They were seated immediately and left alone to study the incomprehensible menus.

"Do you know what any of this stuff is?" Mulder hadn't meant to whisper, but he didn't want to insult the friendly host who was running around, bringing bread and water and silverware to the table.

"What do you want?"

"What do they have?"

"You like seafood?"

"Yeah."

Alex nodded and turned to the eager waiter. He held up the menu and pointed to a few items, waiting while the man made a note of his choices.

"I could have done that," Mulder complained.

"Why didn't you? Your Spanish is probably as good as mine."

"How did you know what you were ordering?"

"You don't get out much, do you, Mulder?" Alex started crumbling a breadstick. "I recognized words on the menu from other restaurants."

"Oh." Such a simple explanation hadn't occurred to him.

"Are you going to continue the third degree, or is the truce back in effect?" Alex demanded irritably.

"Sorry." Mulder stared through the dirty window at the deserted road outside. The sun was setting, the shadows slowly growing to cover the street.

"Jesus." Alex threw the bread down and leaned back. "Outside, turn left to the main road, then go right half a block."

"What's that?"

"Where you'll find the bus to take you back to the hotel. I give up."

Mulder arranged the forks and knives on the table in front of him, trying to decide if he'd just gotten what he wanted, or only what he deserved.

"When was the last time you had a simple, ordinary, human conversation with someone?"

Mulder decided that Raoul's drunken confidences didn't count. "I don't know." At Alex's look, he shifted in his chair uneasily. "I'm busy. I work a lot."

"You don't have to tell me." Alex shook his head. "No wonder they teamed up and forced you on vacation."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have any idea how to act, do you?"

"You wanted to eat dinner." Mulder heard the now-familiar defensive note in his voice. "I'm here."

"I wanted to spend my vacation with you, too," Alex pointed out. "Another really stupid move on my part. Obviously."

"Your vacation. Right. When you're ready to tell me why you're really here, let me know."

Alex cursed. He looked around the deserted restaurant, then stood up. "Come on."

Mulder didn't move. "Where?"

"Come on," Alex said impatiently. "I'm not going to take you to a back room and beat the hell out of you or anything, Mulder."

He headed toward a small hallway and Mulder followed him doubtfully. When he turned a corner, Alex grabbed him and shoved him into a small room, following him in and snapping the lock shut behind them.

Mulder glanced around. "Only women go to the bathroom together, Alex. Men usually figure they can find it without help."

Alex grabbed him and threw him up against the nearest wall. "Hey," Mulder gasped. "I thought we had a truce."

"I had a truce," Alex said bitterly. "All you have is a shitty attitude."

"Is this related to why you followed me here?"

"Asshole." He threaded his hands in Mulder's thick hair, pinning his head against the wall. His body pressed Mulder's against the coolness of the thick stone. He was warm and soft compared to the unyielding surface.

"Buy yourself a clue, Mulder" Alex snarled. "I chased you halfway across the fucking world to spend a few days with you. What do you think?"

"Oh." Mulder watched, transfixed, as Alex's mouth moved closer to his own. "I guess . . . " his voice trailed off as Alex froze and stared at him. Cool green eyes stared into his, revealing nothing, demanding an answer.

Mulder waited, wondering what it would feel like to kiss Alex. He watched as the patient stare turned into amusement.

"Your call, Mulder," Alex said quietly.

I don't think so, Mulder's brain said calmly. "Yes," his mouth betrayed him.

Alex buried his face in Mulder's neck. "Yes." His muffled voice sounded resigned. His weight rested pleasantly against Mulder's body.

Mulder wondered what he had done wrong this time. He couldn't possibly have misunderstood the question. He wrapped his arms around Alex's waist, enjoying the feel of firm muscle under the soft t-shirt.

"Shithead," Alex mumbled. Under the circumstances, Mulder understood how he felt. Alex rubbed his face against Mulder's neck gently, his hands still tightly buried in the smooth hair.

"You could kiss me or something," he mentioned uneasily, wondering if they were still on the same wavelength.

"If we start that now, you can forget about dinner," Alex said clearly.

"You want to go back out and sit down?"

"Actually, I was thinking about spending the rest of my vacation right here."

"Too far from the beach," Mulder objected. "Let me kiss you, then, and we can go eat. Come on."

Alex lifted his head, his eyes half-veiled by those impossibly long lashes. His face was flushed and his lips parted for the kiss. Mulder watched him for a moment, memorizing the picture, then claimed Alex's mouth with his own. An instant's startled reaction, then Alex took over the kiss, his mouth bruising Mulder's as he tried to devour the offering. A glimpse into the wild green eyes proved his hunger, a raw need that was impossible to counterfeit.

With a blinding flash, Mulder realized that, for the first time, he could be absolutely certain what Krycek's motives were. Alex whimpered softly in his throat and a wave of heat poured over Mulder. He's not lying. Not about this. His arms tightened around Alex's waist and he returned the kiss, relishing the almost painful grip on his head, the breathlessness that resulted from the way Alex was crushing him against the wall, and the hard length of Alex's erection straining against his own growing arousal.

Finally Alex tore his mouth away, gulping for air. Mulder growled softly and dove for the soft neck, biting and kissing the sensitive skin in his eagerness to claim the territory. A faint sheen of sweat was forming on the skin. He tasted the salt-sweetness of it.

"Mulder . . . shit," Alex tried to pull away. "I knew that was a mistake."

"Are you saying no?" Mulder slid his tongue into Alex's ear and probed deeply.

"Not like this." His hips ground into Mulder's, rubbing their cocks together through the fabric of their shorts. "This wasn't what I had in mind."

"Alex Krycek," Mulder teased. "A man with a plan. What's wrong with this? You're here. I'm here." He tried for another kiss but Alex evaded him, so he went for the ear again. "I'm ready," he whispered.

"In the bathroom?" Alex tried to pull free again. "You pervert."

"Hey, you chose the location. I'm just making use of it." Mulder turned Alex loose and he stumbled back a step. An instant later his back was against the wall and Mulder had him trapped in turn.

"Actually, I was thinking of something a little less adventurous." Alex was obviously trying to ignore the feeling of Mulder's hands on his hips but the way his eyes started glazing over gave him away. "Something a bit more romantic."

"Like what?" Mulder asked curiously. He pushed Alex's shirt up under his arms, then pulled his own out of the way until he could feel the bare skin of the other man's chest against his own. The temperature in the bathroom must have topped a hundred right about then, and it was still climbing.

"I don't know." Alex looked confused and Mulder tugged at the fastening on his shorts. "Moonlight and roses or something. But this . . ."

"Tidy Bowl and toilet paper?" Mulder filled in with a chuckle.

"You have the soul of a goat, Mulder."

Mulder dragged Alex's shorts down and wrapped both hands around the hard cock. "Try not to think about it."

Alex's head banged against the wall. "When did I lose control of this situation?"

"Now you know how I feel." Mulder turned Alex loose long enough to drag his own shorts to his knees. Then they were glued together from shoulder to thigh, sweat-slick skin sliding roughly against skin.

Mulder kissed him again frantically. "Alex."

"Tidy Bowl and toilet paper it is." Alex gave in to the inevitable. He might be getting just what he wanted, but his brain hadn't caught up with either his body or with Mulder's unexpected surrender.

Mulder fumbled between them, forcing his hand back around Alex's hard cock. Alex moaned and sagged against the wall as Mulder's hand stroked him firmly. He bucked against the pressure, then slid his hand down and wrapped his fingers around Mulder's erection.

"That's it," Mulder groaned. "Right there." The air was hot and thick in the small room, the odors of sweat and arousal cutting bitterly across the smell of disinfectant.

He repeated the slow caress and Mulder heard himself whimper, his hand faltering in its steady movement. Alex wrapped his arm around Mulder's waist and the older man pushed against him eagerly. They fumbled and finally settled on a rhythm, thrusting into the warm heat of each other's hands.

Alex's arm held their bodies together. Mulder's free hand searched Alex's shoulder, then settled in the thick black hair, tilting Alex's head so he could reach the parted lips.

Sweet. He still tasted of the sugary alcoholic drink he had ordered on the beach. Insanity. A public bathroom. The thought disappeared into a haze of pleasure as Alex's thumb stroked the knot of nerves under the crown of his cock.

Sweat dripped from their torsos and the only sounds in the room were the soft friction of flesh against flesh and their ragged breathing. Mulder claimed Alex's mouth for another kiss and felt the pressure inside of him build to overflowing. He tightened his grip on Alex's cock, his hand sliding faster across the hot, slick skin. Alex moaned in response and buried his face in Mulder's neck, gasping for air.

"Mulder." Alex's voice was tight, warning of his impending climax.

"Yes." Mulder kissed him savagely. "Do it."

"Come with me," Alex pleaded. He pumped Mulder's cock faster, his thumb circling the sensitive crown and spreading the slick moisture leaking from the head over the skin.

Mulder whimpered, the sensation of the hot liquid being massaged into the sensitive skin almost overwhelming. Alex's body froze, his hips bucked against Mulder's grasp, and he cried out softly. His hand tightened around Mulder's cock and Mulder felt his own climax spilling out of him, the liquid mixing with Alex's come spreading over their chests.

They relaxed slowly, still holding each other. Mulder's heartbeat slowed from its frantic race to something approaching normal. Against his chest, he could feel Alex's fighting to breathe the hot, close air.

Eventually, they pried themselves apart. Without looking at his companion, Mulder ran water into the dingy sink, using a handful of paper towels to clean the sticky mess from his skin. He handed Alex another handful. He accepted them silently, cleaning himself off quickly. They rearranged their clothing and turned toward the door.

"So." Alex cleared his throat. To Mulder's surprise, the younger man looked nervous. "Do we go our separate ways and pretend this never happened?"

"Jesus." Mulder stopped. "You really do think I'm a shit, don't you?"

Alex shrugged. "Past experience."

"We have a truce," Mulder reminded him. He licked his lips, then stepped over to Alex, sliding his arms around the younger man's shoulders. "Unless . . . "

"What?' Alex looked at him. "Unless, now that I've got what I came for . . . ?" He laughed quietly, his confidence returning. "Not a chance, Mulder. If you think I'm going to be satisfied with that, you're even crazier than everyone thinks." He shook his head. "You have ten more days here, and I intend to take advantage of every one of them."

"Take advantage of the days?" Mulder mocked. "Or take advantage of me every day?"

"Either. Both." Alex kissed him gently. "Whatever I can get."

"Right now, you're getting dinner." Mulder pushed him toward the door. "We can negotiate the rest of it later."

****

The end