Alex Krycek had never much enjoyed doing stakeouts. He had done them for numerous agencies, watching numerous places and numerous people, but no matter who he worked for or why, every damned one of them was exactly the same. Hours of tedium, hours of inactivity, and the closest thing to a highlight in the evening was a good crossword puzzle or an encore broadcast of Alan Jackson singing I'm In Love With You Baby (But I Don't Even Know Your Name). If he was very lucky, he was saddled with a sidekick. Invariably this was some dimwit who either talked too much, not enough, or talked about nothing but women and cars. Alex liked women and cars as much as anyone, but they hadn't been the driving force in his life since he was about sixteen. The Bay City Rollers had seemed important then, too. To him, it defied explanation how a grown man could talk about these things for hours on end. He had no patience for it. More than once it had seemed almost worth certain retribution simply to shoot such a man. Almost.
If someone had told him even a month before that he would someday be on a stakeout voluntarily, he would have laughed and called them the vilest things he could think of. Surely a man would have to be unbalanced to use a rare day off to keep tabs on a housebound octogenarian, let alone a man who would gladly see him flayed alive and dipped in vinegar. Yet there he was, sitting in a Ford Tempo just after midnight, watching Fox Mulder's apartment like it was Brigadoon and he would miss it if he blinked.
None of the curtains were open. The most he could determine was that one room was dimly lit. Had to be the bedroom. Though as far as he knew, Mulder had forgotten he had one. Alex wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but his instincts were sound and he trusted them totally. Of course, he wasn't sure why he had come, either. Or else he was but he chose not to think of it. An imperative from above, then. He simply watched, and waited, as if some great unquestionable sign would appear and he would know his time had come.
It was on occasions like this, when he had no-one to talk to and nothing to do, that he allowed his mind to wander. This was a luxury that most of the time, he didn't even afford himself when he was drifting off to sleep. But it was late, and it was raining out, and suddenly having only himself for company didn't seem as romantic to him as it often did. His thoughts drifted. He was in an unfinished house, losing his virginity to a boy who was so beautiful he still ached to remember him. He was living on the streets in the Bronx, mugging hookers to stay alive. He was in Tunguska, locked up in a stinking cell with Mulder and lying his ass off to everyone in sight.
Mulder. It all came down to him. As if it wasn't bad enough that the agent himself considered himself to be the center of the universe, now it appeared that he was. To Alex, anyway. How could he deny it? He had fought his way back into the US, fought his way back into the good graces of his employers, and now when everything was still so delicate that he checked beneath his car before he left each morning, he was parked outside Mulder's apartment building, staring up at a useless window like some kind of inept and slack-brained peeping Tom. There had to be more to life than this.
He took to fiddling with his radio dial, the idea being that he would continually change stations in search of decent songs. He and Mulder had done something similar as partners, trying to gain points by guessing the artist and the year the song was released. He had learned quickly how pointless it was to play such a game with a man with an eidetic memory. Finally he settled on a countryish song by kd lang, Diet of Strange Places.
He decided this was as close to a sign as he was likely to get. He was going in.
Mulder's building was quiet. All the geezers and crack-heads had already settled in for the night. Staying quiet was something that didn't require conscious thought. Skulking came to Alex naturally. He was gifted. In spite of the fact that the hallways and stairwells were deserted, he kept to the shadows. One never knew. He was halfway up the stairs that led to Mulder's floor when the door that led there swung open and Walter Skinner walked through. Alex shrank back, breathing hard.
This is stupid, he thought. I'm the one with the gun. He didn't want to shoot the bald bastard, though. Not yet, anyway. And he knew he could hold his own in a fight, but he didn't know that he could win. Skinner was the biggest guy he had ever seen outside of the World Wrestling Federation. What the hell was he doing at Mulder's place at this hour? If he let the man go, he had to worry that he'd return. Skinner came closer, and there was no more time to think. Alex crept up behind him and clubbed him over the head with his gun. The AD hit the ground like King Kong, and Alex looked back up the stairs, cursing. He was going to spend himself just dragging the Incredible Hulk back up to Mulder's place. He had no choice, though.
Alex hoisted Skinner under his arms, groaning. "Goddamned folically-challenged fat-head," he muttered. At least it was only one flight. The guy weighed at least five hundred pounds. All in all, Alex could think of several more pleasant ways to while away an evening.
By the time he made it to the hallway, he was dragging the man by his arms, heedless of the noise. There was no silent way to do it, so he didn't even attempt it. He could only pray Mulder didn't leap out into the hallway, gun drawn, caustic remark already forming on his lips. This was the first break he'd had all night.
Mulder's door was unlocked, which struck Alex as beyond strange. The guy was so paranoid that Alex had seen him toss out a bottle of orange juice that had been out of his sight for less than three minutes. Leaving his door unlocked was tantamount to Pope John Paul pissing on the Gutenberg Bible.
Alex left Skinner on Mulder's living room floor and began scouting out the apartment. The kitchen was vacant. Likewise the bathroom. That left the bedroom. He knew Mulder better than the man realized. Even if he was half-asleep, naked, and strung out on grass, Mulder was not a man to be easily fucked with. He crept into the bedroom as if he expected poison darts to shoot from the walls at any moment. And promptly froze in shock.
Mulder lay sprawled out on his bed. Naked, blindfolded, and handcuffed to the headboard, he looked completely relaxed, a soft smile playing across his lips. Candlelight gave his skin a sensual glow it just didn't have in full daylight, and his nightstand bore a tube of Astroglide and two glasses of red wine. My my my, Alex grinned. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Alex looked back into the living room. Skinner hadn't moved at all. This was without a doubt the strangest thing that had ever happened to Alex. He had had things go in some way other than his plan before, and granted, he hadn't really had much of a plan to begin with in this case. Come upstairs. Try to talk to Mulder. Don't get killed. Whatever he had imagined, though, whatever he had fantasized about on other occasions, this was absolutely the last thing he'd expected to find coming here. He stared at Mulder, his throat going dry. There he was. Waiting. And here he was. Willing...
"Walter, come on. I'm going crazy."
Not yet. But you will. His mind made up, Alex crossed the room to where Mulder lay and sat down at the edge of the bed. Dipping a finger in the wine, he rubbed it across the agent's lower lip. His smile broadened. Alex leaned down and licked his mouth clean, deepening the caress to a kiss. Mulder raised his head, seeking more, and Alex obliged, his tongue sliding into the agent's mouth, teasing him. He pulled back and Mulder followed for a second before collapsing into his pillow.
Alex dipped into the wine again, this time tracing Mulder's nipple. The agent gasped, arching into Alex's hand. He grinned. Mulder was a sensualist. He knew he had done nothing to deserve something like this. Mulder must have really pissed somebody off. Alex bent to his chest and licked the nipple delicately, ending on a bite.
"Do that again," the agent said. By way of reply, Alex got up and left him there. He hadn't intended to leave Skinner alone for such a long time. This was what came of letting your mind wander. If this hadn't been the luckiest night of his life, the AD would have come to and broken him in half by now.
A brief hunt through the apartment turned up a great length of orange extension cord, a dish rag, and some duct tape. Perfect. It was amazing what sorts of everyday objects you could use for this kind of activity. He was the Martha Stewart of the criminal community. He was still tying Skinner up when the AD stirred. Alex thrust his gun into Skinner's face before his eyes had even completely focused.
"You make a sound, and he's dead. Nod if you understand." Skinner nodded. "Good." He stuffed the dish rag into the AD's mouth and secured it with the duct tape. "Let's go." He led his captive back into the bedroom and motioned for him to sit in the lone chair. Using what remained of the extension cord, he tied Skinner down. Nice job, man. Skinner's eyes were on Mulder. The agent squirmed on the bed, smiling lazily, displaying a very respectable erection. Alex smiled. The AD knew what was about to take place. He had a very expressive face; Alex had never noticed that before. Part of him was in a blind rage. Part was jealous that he wasn't the one leaning over the bed.
Alex made a show of setting his gun on the nightstand. Given enough time, Skinner would eventually free himself. Alex didn't want him to try too hard. Dipping his finger into the wine a third time, Alex ran it along the head of Mulder's cock. The agent drew a quick breath, bucking into Alex's hands. Wetting the finger again, he traced Mulder's length down to the root, massaging his balls when he got there.
Mulder shuddered. "Walter, I--" Alex kissed him then, sealing the agent's mouth firmly with his own. He sucked Mulder's tongue into his mouth, biting it gently before releasing it. He turned back to Skinner. Their eyes locked.
You do this, Skinner's said, and you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.
I do this, and so will you.
Alex thrust his tongue into Mulder's ear, running it along the shell, nibbling on his lobe. He ran kisses along the agent's jaw and repeated his actions on the other ear before kissing his way down Mulder's neck.
"You've been practising," Mulder said. Alex frowned. This idea had come to him so suddenly, he had never considered that Mulder might notice the difference. "Don't stop."
Alex bent to him again, kissing down to his chest, tonguing a nipple. A body as beautiful as this one was meant to be worshipped. It was inconceivable to him that Skinner, given the opportunity, had neglected to do so. He stroked Mulder's sides, kneading his flesh, running his hands down to the agent's hips and lingering there. Mulder wiggled. Alex hadn't forgotten the wine he'd left glistening on Mulder's cock, and apparently, neither had he.
Holding his hips down, Alex kissed Mulder's stomach, nipping at his abs, tonguing his navel. The agent yanked viciously at his handcuffs, rattling the headboard. Alex released him and kissed him hotly. Mulder let out a low, desperate moan. Alex pulled away and began to disrobe, standing back so he could watch both men at once.
"Walter, you can't leave me like this." Alex dropped his pants. "What are you doing?" He took off his boxers. "If you're putting on a French Maid's costume, I'm breaking up with you."
Alex sat beside him on the bed and looked his fill. He wanted to remove the blindfold. He wanted to see Mulder's eyes. He really had amazing eyes. But that smile was not for him. Nor Mulder's entreaties, nor his erection. Skinner deserved this, he decided. The man was a prick, and unappreciative, besides. Alex needed to do it, but Skinner needed to watch.
He stroked Mulder's chest, eliciting a throaty moan from the agent. Bracing his hands on either side of Mulder's torso, he licked the head of the agent's cock. Mulder came off the bed before Alex's tongue had even made it once around.
"Walter." He sucked the head into his mouth, working it with his tongue, savoring the combined tastes of the wine, pre-ejaculate, and something essentially Mulder. Alex licked his way down the shaft, mouthing Mulder's balls when he reached them. A man could get drunk this way, he thought. And there can't be a better way to do it.
"Oh God," Mulder moaned. "Oh..." Relaxing his throat, Alex took the agent's cock all the way into his mouth, sucking now hard, now soft, until Mulder was rocking his hips back and forth and moaning more or less continuously. "I'm going to get you for this," he gasped. Alex froze. "You bastard, don't stop... Walter..."
Alex shot the AD a look. What kind of sick relationship did these two have, anyway? He hoped those knots held. Skinner was going to feed Alex his own genitalia if he got free now. He took Mulder's cock back into his mouth, sucking, nipping. Each time he felt Mulder close to coming, he eased off, until the agent was reduced to a whimper.
"Stop teasing me," he begged. "God, please..." Alex reached for the Astroglide. Skinner jerked in the chair. Alex gave him a sharp look, his smile never faltering, and reached for his gun. Taking its butt, he stroked it from Mulder's neck down to his feet. Tracing lazy sex patterns on his skin.
"Christ that's cold. What the hell is that?"
Alex squirted some of the lubricant into his hands, fighting the urge to hum. This fit right in with the pattern of his entire life, he realized. He could take what he wanted and risk his health doing it, or he could do without. And no matter what, he never did without. He knew without a doubt that Mulder would never again be begging him to suck his cock.
He parted Mulder's legs and slid a single finger deep inside his ass. The agent sighed happily, angling his hips for better penetration. Oh, Jesus, this is too good to be true. He half-expected either to wake up or to find himself full of holes when somebody came in and shot him. On any other day, this was right around the time Scully would show up. Alex slid a second finger into Mulder's ass, scraping across his prostate. Mulder let out an agonized cry, bucking against him. Take it easy.
"Walter... shit..." they found a rhythm between the two of them, Alex setting the pace, Mulder eagerly following it. He obviously wanted more out of the encounter, and Alex wanted to supply it, but he wanted to make this experience one to remember, in every sense. His own cock was rock hard and becoming more painful with every moan Mulder let out. He could feel Skinner's eyes boring into him, and that made a difference, too, but he wasn't quite done playing with Mulder yet.
"Take off the cuffs," he moaned. "I want to touch you."
Alex took Mulder's cock into his mouth, never faltering in his assault on the agent's ass. Mulder convulsed. Alex sucked, as hard as he could, moving his fingers faster now, trying to finish him off. The agent thrashed in his arms, the handcuffs rattling. "Please... oh, Christ..." Mulder stiffened thoroughly, his breath coming out of him in a soft keen. Alex kept swallowing, over and over, until Mulder had ridden out the orgasm and lay still on the bed, breathing hard, his skin sheened with sweat.
"Walter," he said on a shuddering sigh. "You aren't exactly the most selfless lover I've ever had. What are you going to do to me?"
Alex sat on the edge of the bed, watching Skinner, licking his lips. He knew he wore a satisfied smile. Mulder was a furnace in bed. He never would have guessed. The slightest touch ignited the man. He had never seen anyone so responsive in his life.
"You know, I don't want to criticize, but in a situation like this, I'm supposed to be the one wearing the gag."
Alex gave the thought serious consideration. At least then the man would shut up for five minutes and let him think. He stood, stretched. Paced the room. Skinner was watching him. Watching Mulder. Alex could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. It was kind of an iffy situation. You'd think a man would know his own lover, after all. He sipped from the unused glass of wine and watched his captives squirm.
"Walter?" He sounded uncertain now. As if he was afraid the AD had left him there. Alex wasn't surprised. The dumb bastard had already done it once.
Setting down his glass, Alex mounted the bed and settled himself in between Mulder's legs. He set the agent's legs over his shoulders, stroking his thighs. Mulder grinned at him now.
"I knew you couldn't resist me," he said. "Admit it. You need me like you need air. Like you need to need to abuse and degrade your subordinates. Like--" he sucked in a breath as Alex penetrated him. "Like... oh..."
Here it was. The big payoff. Mulder was so tight, so hot, so responsive... and this was the greatest thing he had ever felt in his life. Nothing else could hope to compare. Mulder was using his internal muscles to milk him as he thrust, gripping the headboard rails as if the handcuffs alone couldn't contain him. The agent thrust against him, faster and faster, moaning, begging, commanding, and it was so intense, so overwhelming. With every stroke, Alex had to fight to remind himself not to make a sound. He gripped Mulder's hips and fucked him, frantic now, eager, anxious. This was good, but his orgasm was going to knock him unconscious. He could feel it building inside him.
Mulder rocked against him, trying to intensify the contact, his cries growing steadily louder as he barked out instruction. Faster, Walter. Harder, Walter. If Alex never heard Skinner's name again, he would die a happy man. Still, he obliged, determined to make this as good for Mulder as it was for him. Alex gripped Mulder's cock and stroked it roughly, his hips slamming against the agent's own so hard now that he was actually pushing Mulder up off the bed.
"Yes! Oh Christ, oh God, yes!" Mulder came a second time just as Alex was about to begin his first. He bucked, thrusting gracelessly now, struggling not to moan. There was a burst of color behind his eyes, a moment of complete thoughtlessness, and then, the collapse. He landed on top of Mulder with a wet smack.
Mulder laughed, weakly. "If you fall asleep on me, you're a dead man."
He lay there for a long moment, catching his breath, savoring the feel of sweat cooling on his back, the smell of Mulder's skin, the last of his orgasm. He stroked Mulder's face, kissed him softly. He had had enough to say before he had even walked in the room, and now... Now he had to get the hell out of there. Before Skinner got free. Before someone noticed his car abandoned on the street.
Alex rolled off of Mulder and started dressing. Skinner looked defeated somehow, beneath the murderous glare he cast at Alex as he buttoned up his shirt. Too late, he thought. He won't be happy about it, but he's going to think about it every time you kiss him, every time you touch him. Too late.
"Walter?" Alex looked at him. He wore a sated smile. "Take the blindfold off. I want to look at you."
Alex put his jacket on and returned to Mulder's side. With tremendous care, he slipped the blindfold from the agent's face. His eyes were wide. His mouth fell open. He turned his head quickly and took in the sight of Walter strapped to a chair and gagged.
"Happy Valentine's Day, kids," Alex said, and he left.