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TWGF by Alicia and Sylvie

Title: TWGF
Authors: Alicia & Sylvie
Rating: NC-17
Summary: An unusually enjoyable train ride.
Pairing: M/K
Spoilers: Set pre-XF, very minor spoilers for Fire, if that matters.
Please archive at Archive/X, and elsewhere by request.
Disclaimers: Oh, don't we wish these boys belonged to us? But they don't. We are all too aware of that. But we so enjoy playing with them . . . .
This is a truly shameless smutfest. We do intend to write something with a plot one of these days, but in the meantime we hope you enjoy.
Thanks to CiCi and Te for drooling, fanning themselves, and betaing. Thanks to Sa for the Japanese dinner. And muchas gracias, merci beaucoup, todah rabah to Mama Lean for the German.
Feedback, please, to . And virtual M&Ms to anyone who can figure out the title.


TWGF by Alicia & Sylvie
5/98

Fox Mulder stared bleakly out the train window at the verdant German countryside rushing past. He lifted his stein of Malzbier and sipped deeply, not really tasting the dark, rich brew.

It had been just over two weeks since Phoebe had dumped him, two weeks in which he'd drunk more than he had in the previous two years, and worked on his thesis not at all. Finally, he'd decided to get away, take the ferry over to Calais and travel for a while. He was far enough ahead in his research that this impromptu vacation shouldn't hurt him too much, though he knew he had to get back to St Johns' soon.

Problem was, once he got to France he realized he wasn't really interested in *doing* anything there, so he'd found himself on train after train, passing through cities without stopping to enjoy them, still unable to distract himself from his depression. And always, as now, with a half-forgotten drink in his hand.

The compartment door opened suddenly, and a young man--a kid, really--leaned in. "Entschuldigung . . ." he said with a smile as Mulder looked up inquiringly. Tall, with dark hair and a face so handsome as to be almost pretty.

"Darf ich mich vorstellen?" the newcomer continued as he entered the compartment, extending his hand. "Ich heisse Alex." Snug, well-worn 501s, faded green t-shirt, backpack that looked as if he'd been on the road awhile. Leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

Although Mulder read German well enough to get through Freud and Jung, he'd never spoken it much, and it took him a moment to translate the introduction and come up with a suitable response. He clasped the proffered hand briefly, finding it warm, strong, hard to let go. . . . "Wie geht es Ihnen?" he stammered. "Ich heisse Mulder."

He had chosen this compartment because it was empty, but his thoughts hadn't proven to be particularly good company after all. . . and this stranger certainly was easy on the eyes, even if he didn't speak English.

"You British?" the young man asked just then.

//Guess my German is even worse than I thought.// "American. You?"

"Me, too."

"Your German is pretty good."

"Yeah, well, I guess I kinda have a talent for languages."

A moment's silence while startlingly green eyes met deep hazel, then looked away.

"So, you been over here long?" the young man finally said.

"Me?" //No, idiot, he was talking to the window. Jesus, did Phoebe suck out your brain along with your heart?// "Yeah, I've been living in England for a while now. Studying."

"Hey, that sounds cool. I'm just over here seeing the sights, summer before college, you know?"

Mulder, who had graduated from high school a semester early and started the Hilary term at Oxford the following week, found the concept of a whole summer with no responsibilities almost inconceivable. Even now, in the midst of his attempt at escapism, he was worrying about his thesis. "Having fun?"

"Oh, yeah. I've been to France, Belgium, the Netherlands . . . met lots of great people . . ."

"And now you're headed to Italy?" //Well, either that or he's on the wrong train. What is *wrong* with you?//

The young man kindly overlooked the inanity. "Uh-huh. I thought I'd check out Naples next. Say, Mulder, you're looking a little dry. Can I buy you another beer?"

Grateful for any excuse to indulge his sudden pressing need to *move,* Mulder agreed. They chatted desultorily on the way to the club car, discovering that they both loved basketball (Mulder was a Knicks fan; Alex preferred the Lakers), music (Alex liked the Talking Heads; Mulder, Eric Clapton; they agreed on Lou Reed), and Hitchcock movies.

As they were crossing the platform between cars, on their way back to their seats, the train jolted to one side and Alex reached out to steady Mulder, who was holding both their beers. The unexpected bolt of lightning as warm hands burned through Mulder's khakis almost sent both men tumbling, but they recovered, with only a slight amount of beer spilt on Mulder's shirt.

After a split second during which startled awareness flashed between them, the conversation started up again, this time with an almost fevered animation, as what had been a relatively casual discussion of likes and dislikes suddenly turned into a tennis match of wit in which neither man was willing to lose a point.

As they sipped their beer, Alex steered the conversation from bands and movies to topics with more sensual connotations. By the time he'd finished describing in loving detail the best meal he'd ever had (Kaiseki cuisine in Tokyo--sashimi to start, a fish he and his mother picked out from the tank on the way in, the delicate fillets carefully laid back into the skin of the cleaned and gutted fish, presented so swiftly that the fish's mouth was still moving when the dish was placed before them . . . then lightly broiled halibut with a soy and miso glaze . . . simmered tofu, silk on the tongue, in a clear broth, served with a soy-based dipping sauce decorated with fresh ginger and shredded daikon . . . so many courses, each more tantalizing than the last. . . even the rice was exquisite, a perfect pearlescent mound, presented in a natsume, its top compartment filled with pickled vegetables in hues of bright orange, maroon, green, vivid white, carefully carved into flowers and geometric shapes), Mulder's eyes had begun to dilate with a different kind of hunger.

"You know, Mulder, that meal made me think about how very special ordinary activities can be, if undertaken with care and attention."

"Hmmm?"

"That's the whole idea behind Kaiseki cuisine. The extraordinary in the ordinary. And it applies to everything in life. Take. . . a kiss, for example. Nothing to it, right? You kiss--oh, your mother, your friends, all the time."

Mulder vaguely thought that Alex's family was probably quite unlike his, but he nodded.

"Ah. But if you put a little thought into it. . . . I've thought about it, and I've decided just how I'd want to kiss the most beautiful man I ever meet." Alex darted a glance at Mulder, inwardly relishing the startled look on the older man's face, before ingenuously returning his gaze to the window. "I'd start by brushing my fingers over his face, his cheekbones, his jaw. Just getting the feel of his skin, his bones. Maybe run my thumbs ever-so-gently over his eyelids. Slide my fingers through his soft, thick hair--there's just something about that sensation that I could never get tired of."

The pulse in Mulder's neck was clearly visible as Alex continued. "Then, after I'd cherished his face with my hands, learned every curve, every angle--then I'd lean in, so close I could breathe his breath, inhale his essence--and touch my lips to the corner of his mouth."

Mulder tried to suppress a shiver.

"With just the tip of my tongue, I'd taste that spot--" Alex's pink tongue demonstrated on his own mouth, and his eyes fluttered closed as if he were imagining that perfect partner. "--then move to savor the fullness of his lips. Maybe--if I was lucky--he'd moan just a little, parting those lush lips so I could indulge more completely.

"What do you think, Mulder, would that be a fitting homage to a man like that?"

When Mulder uncharacteristically found himself at a loss for words, Alex continued, his voice taking on a dreamy quality that was simultaneously reassuring and wickedly seductive.

"And after we'd kissed, oh, for hours, days--when I could bear to tear myself away from that delicious mouth, maybe I'd move lower, kiss my way down his neck--the tiniest hint of stubble scraping my lips--rest my mouth a few moments in the salty-clean hollow of his throat. Lick slowly, delicately across his collarbone to his shoulder and back again. And somehow I'd have to learn the details of his ear . . ."

Mulder had stopped breathing.

"Did you know, Mulder, the human ear has over 200 nerve endings? And that while it is designed to be sensitive to sound it is also extremely sensitive to touch? I'd trace his earlobe with a touch so light he'd hear it before he felt it. He would listen for the brush of my fingertip as it slowly followed the unique pattern from its broadest points to the creases, and once every pore, every molecule of him was waiting for that finger I would replace it with my tongue . . . start by sucking on the lobe, rasping it with my tongue and nipping it just a little."

Mulder gasped as his lungs finally registered that they hadn't received any oxygen for the past several moments. He tried to cover the sound with a quick cough, but Alex smiled as he looked out at the fields rushing by.

"Work my way up around the outer shell, alternating kisses and bites--do you think he'd like that? I guess if he's still letting me worship him, I could let my hands explore a little more. Stroke gently over those firm shoulders and down his arms, twine my fingers with his. Maybe massage those long, strong fingers and hands for a while, making sure any tension is relieved, before moving up his belly to his chest. Do you think I could touch his nipples then? Or would that be too soon?"

"I, ah, I--" Mulder found he was incapable of uttering a coherent sentence. Some small part of his brain considered that the person sitting across from him was far from your average 18-year-old kid, but too few synapses were available to process the thought and it quickly faded into insignificance.

Alex's hand slowly drifted upward and for an instant Mulder thought--hoped--it was meant for him, but the digits came to rest on the younger man's own chest. First caressing, then teasing until Mulder could see Alex's erect nipples standing out against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

"Of course, hands on nipples are nice, but to really do them justice I'd have to use my mouth. I know I'd want to lick, and bite--oh, I'm afraid I might lose control for a while there. But I'd be listening every instant to make sure I was pleasing him. I hope he might be groaning now, or panting--is that likely, do you think?"

Mulder was just barely capable of licking his lips, as he realized he'd been breathing through his open mouth so long they were bone-dry.

By now night was falling, and Alex could see Mulder reflected in the glass of the window. The man's erection was painfully obvious, and Alex wondered how much longer he would be able to sit still.

"Let's suppose he is panting, Mulder. What do you think he'd want next? I know what I'd want."

Alex thought he might have heard a whimper, but just then the train entered a tunnel and the roar of the engine was increased tenfold.

When the din subsided, Alex went on. "I'd want to lick my way down his stomach . . . slowly . . . tracing every muscle with my tongue and my teeth. His chest is almost hairless . . . but at his navel the arrow begins. Soft, dark hair under my lips. . . . Oh, that navel might distract me for a while, Mulder. But I'm sure I'd get back on track soon. His cock must be hard by now, don't you agree? Maybe even throbbing a little?"

Alex smiled as he steadfastly kept his gaze out the window into the darkness beyond.

"I'm dying to taste that cock, Mulder. I imagine how it will feel in my mouth, silken skin jumping under my lips, the salty taste of his arousal slick on my tongue. But I struggle for control, biting almost viciously at the muscles of his hips. He bucks in response, I think, crying out in mingled pain and pleasure. Or am I being too optimistic?"

Mulder couldn't possibly form an answer, and Alex continued after only a moment's hesitation.

"I don't want to rush things. This is the most desirable man imaginable, and I want to do everything, *everything* I can to please him. So I tear myself away from the magnetic pull of his cock, moving down to raise his knees so I can taste his balls, suck on them, roll them on my tongue. Lift him further still, to continue licking, tracing gently up his crack then stabbing into him again and again. . . . I hope he'd like that, Mulder. I surely would."

The statue seated opposite Alex twitched slightly.

"What should I do next, Mulder? I could tongue him like that for hours if he'd let me. And my fingers--I'd want to use my fingers, too. He's so hot inside it almost burns to touch him, but it's a good burn. I stroke him, slowly, quickly, harder, softer, feeling and hearing and tasting his reactions with every cell in my body. Oh, I know I should take my time, but I don't think I can wait any longer."

A definite moan this time.

"I'll keep finger-fucking him--I'm sure by now I know just how he likes it--but I've got to suck on that gorgeous cock or I think I'll die. Is that okay?

"Please, Mulder, tell me . . . does he want my mouth on him?"

A groan that was almost a howl was torn from Mulder's throat as this last image overloaded his senses and he came, hands still clenched in the fabric of the seat cushions to his sides.

*****

//Well, *that* worked even better than I'd hoped.//

Alex allowed himself a triumphant grin that was long gone before the older man regained his ability to focus. Before Mulder could begin to dwell on the embarrassing nature of his position, Alex crossed the small compartment and knelt at his feet. Raising his left hand to trace the still-stunned face, he reached for Mulder's belt with his right.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, I didn't mean to--uh--" he lied cheerfully. "I hate to take things out of order," he continued as he quickly opened Mulder's fly and delicately set to licking the other man clean. "But then again, that's . . . another Zen lesson . . . isn't it? Expectations are . . . a great cause of suffering.. . . So let's not . . . expect--just be, and . . . enjoy the being."

Alex's ministrations did initially serve to temper Mulder's chagrin at his loss of control. //Okay, this is one of the stranger things that's ever happened to me, but what the hell, he's cute enough, and he certainly has an amazing mouth. In more ways than one.//

But inevitably the languor Alex's incantation had inspired fell away, leaving Mulder gripped with the need to touch this man who had so effortlessly cut through his defenses--to learn the secrets of his body, make him scream *his* pleasure to the night.

Mulder clasped Alex's upper arm, urging him up to the seat next to him. "Well," he said with a not-quite-smile, "I have to say I've been 'be'ing pretty darn well so far tonight. But what about you? Do you think this--" he reached for the buttons on Alex's jeans, "--needs a little exercise?" Mulder ran his long fingers lightly along the bulging seam of the fly, touching without pressure. He looked at the buttons intently. "I don't know, Alex; this could be a problem. Your jeans are awfully tight. I'm not sure I can unbutton them without, uh, hurting you."

Mulder had a point, about the tightness if not the difficulty it posed. Alex's litany had begun as an exercise in verbal manipulation, but had ended up exciting him nearly as much as it had the other man.

In any case, Alex was quite willing to play along, and rather than demonstrating just how easily he could get his fly open, he sat still, making a faint noise somewhere between a groan and a moan. Mulder's smile broadened. "All right, Alex, I'll give it a try. Let me see if I can open the top button . . . there, you have a little more room now." Mulder leaned down and ran his tongue along the indentation the button had made in Alex's hard stomach. Then he sucked the puckered skin into his mouth. Alex gasped. This game definitely promised to be worth the trouble. "Oh, look--" Mulder said without raising his head, ". . . there seems to be a little more room here now." Dragging his fingers to the second button, he slowly worked it free. ". . . Ah, no underwear. I like that, Alex."

Ignoring the tip of Alex's penis, which was now just visible within the confining denim, Mulder moved to the floor and knelt between Alex's thighs. Working his hands slowly up the inseams until they met at Alex's groin, he said, "Alex, you need to sit up so I can try to get the last three buttons. Move back just a little--yeah, that's it." Mulder slid one hand along the thick erection still embedded in the jeans and raised the other to stroke down Alex's stomach.

"Okay, Alex, take a deep breath and I'll try to get the next one." Alex swiftly took in one harsh breath and Mulder released the third button, freeing another inch of Alex's swollen cock.

Alex sighed in relief--or was it a breathy moan? Mulder couldn't tell.

"Alex, you really need to get some larger jeans. These are much too tight for you." Mulder leaned down to take the tip, just the very tip, in his mouth and he could feel Alex's entire body vibrating at the touch. He caressed the smooth, taut skin with his tongue for a few moments before speaking again.

"Alex, this isn't gonna work for you unless we open these last two buttons." Kindness dripping from his voice, his eyes focused on the throbbing penis before him, Mulder reached out to caress the hard mass behind the still too-buttoned jeans. "Alex, you have to help me here. Maybe if you scoot down a little I can get at least one more."

//Sit up, scoot down; make up your mind!// But the thoughts were good-humored; Alex was in no mood to argue. There was something irresistible about the way the pain he'd seen in Mulder's eyes when he first entered the compartment had brightened to playfulness. Alex willingly slid his shoulders down the back of the bench-like seat and brought his thighs up, wrapping them around Mulder's body, crossing his legs to pull Mulder forward.

"That's it, Alex, but let up a little on my arms or I won't be able to--" Mulder brought his hands together at the fourth button, his index fingers brushing Alex's exposed skin lightly in passing. Alex shuddered. Mulder wrestled with the button for a moment. "I don't want to hurt you, Alex." And then the button was free, the jeans gaping wide. Mulder reached for the penis now standing out from the denim. "Oooh, very nice, Alex. Do you know, I think I want to leave the last button just like this . . . for a while. It will, I think, serve very well as an impromptu cock ring."

He couldn't tell whether the answering groan indicated comprehension or not.

". . . Have you ever used a cock ring, Alex? If I leave this last button the way it is--" he slowly ran his index finger along the younger man's straining penis, "this large, really very impressive erection, Alex, could last for a long time. A very long time."

In response, Alex pressed his booted heels into Mulder's back, unwittingly increasing the pressure at the base of his cock as his pelvis slid forward on the bench. //Ahhh,// Mulder thought, //*that* was a groan.//

Mulder allowed Alex to pull him forward, inclining his head toward his goal, which was now pulsing with every to and fro movement of the train. He pressed his thumbs together over the last button, rested the top of his head against Alex's stomach, and opened his mouth so his tongue hovered just above the tip of the younger man's penis. Mulder let the movement of the train roll his tongue across the tip--for one, maybe two deep breaths. Then he began lapping gently along the sides, up and down the shaft, but always stopping just shy of the most sensitive spots. Alex was by now breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

His own erection throbbing, soiled khakis and boxers tangled around his knees, Mulder finally let his lips close around Alex and, his thumbs still firmly pressed into the lowest button, began to suck--lick--suck Alex's cock in time with the rhythm of the train along the tracks, licking it bigger sucking it broader until both men were moaning in pleasure--

A series of sharp raps at the door swiveled both men's heads in that direction, Alex's penis falling from Mulder's lips with an audible "pop."

"Herr Krycek? Wofinde ich Alex Krycek?"

"Oh, shit!" Mulder exclaimed as he grabbed desperately at his pants.

Alex could only articulate a groan and fumble at his buttons--with little success, given the laws of physics.

"Say something, Alex!" Mulder hissed.

"Eine sekunde, bitte, ich komme--" Alex called out, following up with a strangled ". . . I wish."

"Just tell him to go away!" Mulder was now standing with his back to the door, his pants buttoned but unzipped, erection clearly visible under his flapping polo shirt.

The compartment door opened just as he spoke, and Alex found himself looking at a very startled waiter.

"Uh, Sie haben ihre brieftasche an der bar gelassen, mein Herr," the waiter stammered before comprehension dawned and his expression quickly went from confusion to amusement.

Mulder, still with his back turned and trying very hard to pretend he wasn't there, managed to catch "wallet . . . bar . . . "

"Ich werde es auf dem tisch hinterlassen."

//. . . table . . .//

"Ich musnungehen . . ."

//Oh, thank God, he's leaving!//

"Haben Sie einen guten Abend, herren." And the waiter left with a smile that wasn't quite a smirk.

"He's gone, Mulder. You can turn around now," Alex said, lapsing into a fit of pained giggles at the sight of him. The laughter was contagious, and both men were soon sprawled on the floor, hooting helplessly--though Mulder's rusty laugh and bewildered expression left Alex wondering just how familiar his companion was with mirth. "Oh, Mulder, you should've seen the look on that guy's face . . ." Alex gasped, then looked again at Mulder's disheveled state. "--or maybe not . . ."

"Are you implying that I am less than presentable?" Mulder replied with an almost-successful attempt at a straight face. Alex quirked an eyebrow in response, and then they were both off again. The younger man found that making Mulder laugh, the power of being allowed this simple intimacy, was almost as intoxicating as his earlier sexual triumph.

But before too long Alex's need overrode all other considerations. "Oh, God, Mulder," he groaned. "Please get back down here *right now* or I think I'm gonna die."

The agonized words kindled an instant resurgence of Mulder's lust, leaving him breathless. "Oh, Alex . . ." The younger man's head was thrown back against the seat, every tendon in his neck clearly outlined, mouth open to gulp air, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He still wore his t-shirt, his boots, and most of his jeans. Mulder quickly repositioned himself between Alex's spread legs, and once more ran his hands up Alex's thighs until his thumbs met at the base of the still engorged cock.

Alex fought to keep his hands from gripping that dark head tightly and slamming it full force onto his painfully swollen organ. //Zen. Enjoy the moment. No expectations . . . Fuck that, I need to come!// Only the fear that Mulder might leave if he got too physical too quickly gave him the strength to remain still.

Mulder pressed his thumbs inward as he lowered his head. Struggling not to cry out at the renewed sensation, Alex once again wrapped his legs around Mulder's back and pressed his heels into the older man's spine. Mulder licked harshly up Alex's length before concentrating on the crown, his tongue swirling around and up and down until the pressure of Alex's heels and the throbbing in his mouth got so intense Mulder knew he had to let him come.

Without easing the force of his thumbs on the base of Alex's cock, Mulder moved his hands to the top buttons, gripping them hard as he rocked with the motion of the train until the sucking and the licking and the bumping and the pulsing of his own erection merged into a synchronous whole. Then--finally--Mulder raised his thumbs at the same time he opened the last button with one strong tug of both hands and sucked Alex's length down his throat as far as it would go.

Alex had no awareness of his arms or legs--just the intolerably intense, incandescent sensation running from his cock, his balls, up his spine to his brain. Sparks danced across the backs of his eyelids as he felt the surge that had been dammed at an almost unbearable level of pleasure finally begin to release, rising and breaking over him with enough force to send him spinning into the darkness.

*****

When Alex drifted back toward consciousness, his eyes blinked open to the sight of Mulder reclining on the thin carpet that covered the compartment floor, head propped on one hand, Alex's leather jacket wadded up into a pillow underneath him. The older man had tossed his damp clothes in the corner and was unabashedly naked from the waist down. This move was underscored by the fact that though his eyes were focused on Alex, his left hand was quite deliberately stroking his cock in time to the rhythm of the train.

This wanton image bore so little resemblance to the morose figure he'd seen when he first poked his head in the compartment door that Alex was overcome with an unexpected surge of affection.

"You want to come over here and help me with this?" Mulder said when he saw Alex's eyes focus. "The night is young, and so are we," he continued with a wicked grin. "And I shoved your backpack and my luggage in front of the door so hopefully we shouldn't have any more unexpected visitors." Mulder couldn't remember ever feeling quite this reckless, this sensually focused, but he was more than willing to work with the mood for as long as it lasted. He couldn't have asked for a better distraction.

If Alex had had any question about whether he'd chosen the right companion for this train trip, it would have been quite thoroughly resolved at that point. Smiling, he stretched his arms over his head, loosening cramped muscles and not incidentally drawing Mulder's eyes to his upper body. With a faint hum of pleasure, he then crossed his hands at his waist and began wriggling out of his tight t-shirt. A sidelong glance confirmed that his little show was playing to an enthusiastic audience.

"You really are most pleasant to look at, Alex. But you clearly know that," Mulder commented as Alex bent forward to tug off his boots and socks before rising to shimmy out of his jeans (first making sure his back was to Mulder so as to show off his ass to best advantage).

Mulder gladly accepted the invitation to stare that was so obviously being offered. "Mmm, no tan lines. You are a positive visual feast, Alex."

Now fully nude, Alex indulged in one more catlike stretch before kneeling next to his rapt companion. "I think you're a little overdressed at this point, don't you, Mulder?" he asked, running his hands up Mulder's hips and sliding them under the polo shirt, pulling it over the unresisting man's head. "There, that's better." The shirt was flung to join the untidy heap by the door, and Alex turned his attention to a thorough appreciation of the man before him. "Now, where were we?"

In response, Mulder raised his hand and pulled Alex's head down to his. "Not that I'm complaining, but we've kind of skipped some of the usual steps, haven't we?" he murmured into Alex's cheekbone before the tip of his tongue snaked out to slick along Alex's jaw and up to his ear.

Alex moaned and inclined his neck in response, his right hand skimming over Mulder's shoulder and down the smooth muscled expanse below before cupping the other man's ass and rolling him onto his back. Arching his back, Alex positioned himself squarely between Mulder's thighs, then thrust upward along the other man's cock. Mulder cried out and his mouth fiercely sought Alex's, biting at the beautiful lips before his tongue swept inside to plunder the riches within. Alex's response was quick and intense, and for long moments the only sounds in the tiny room were the slide of skin against rapidly-heating skin, the faint rasp of lightly-furred legs against one another, the occasional moan or muffled grunt as bodies twisted, fingers roamed and discovered, tongues adventured.

Eventually, Mulder regained the capacity for speech.

"Umm, Alex--oh--mmm--what do you, ah--is there anything special you'd--?"

"Wha--? I'm, Mulder--I'm feeling pretty good about things as they are; is there a problem?"

"No, uh--no problem at all--just, ah, I was thinking, mmm, I mean, there must be things you've thought about but never done--aren't there?"

"Like doing it in a train compartment going 80 mph through--wherever the hell we are by now?"

"Well, uh, yeah, that too, but . . ."

Alex drew back far enough that he could focus on Mulder's face. "So, what did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know--"

"Well, let's see. What do we have to work with? You got a necktie with you? No? Oh well, probably not a good idea to get into anything we can't get out of quickly if that waiter comes back, anyway." Alex paused a beat. "What about a belt? You were wearing a belt, weren't you?"

"Yeah, it's over there, in my pants; why?"

"Oh, just something I've heard about." Actually, a tattoo artist in Amsterdam had introduced Alex to this particular kink, but he didn't feel the need to mention that fact to Mulder. Alex rose and quickly found the strip of leather. "Okay, Mulder, you want to play?"

The eager anticipation on the younger man's face gave Mulder a clue that Alex might be more familiar with whatever he had in mind than he let on, but that was fine; he was feeling too good to pass judgment on his new acquaintance's past. "Sure. What do you want me to do?"

Alex was already drawing the tongue of the belt through the buckle and slipping his head through the resulting loop. "Nice soft leather, Mulder," he said. "That's good. It'll leave less marks." Though he tried to keep it from showing in his voice, the scent of the leather--redolent with Mulder's sweat--set Alex's blood racing.

For his part, Mulder found the vision of his companion utterly nude except for the

//*my*//

belt wrapped around his neck almost unbearably exciting.

"Okay, Mulder; this will probably be easiest if you get behind me." Alex knelt and handed the tongue of the belt to Mulder. Mulder willingly slipped close behind him, pressing his swollen cock between Alex's cheeks and resting his left hand (holding the belt) on Alex's shoulder for balance while he reached around to grasp the younger man's cock.

"Ahh . . . good. That's good," Alex rasped. "Now . . . just don't break my neck, okay?"

Mulder pulled the belt snug but not tight. "How's that to start with?"

"Good. Oh . . . so good." The sensation of Mulder's hand firmly stroking and the beginning of a thrumming in his brain as oxygen was withheld had Alex near the brink in moments. He could feel Mulder's cock slick between his buttocks. "Tighter, Mulder."

Mulder stroked, and thrust, and pulled, drawing the belt tighter as Alex tensed. Alex leaned forward, further increasing the pressure around his neck. The pulse in his ears filled his throat, his chest, pounded through every nerve to his cock, where Mulder's fingers continued their rhythm. Sparks flickered, brightened, spread from Alex's groin throughout his body even as his vision darkened and blurred. Then his entire body was exploding.

As the strong body went limp in his arms, Mulder quickly released the belt, his hand moving down Alex's throat to confirm a steady pulse even as he gently lay the younger man down on the floor. Sated mutters soon added reassurance that the episode had been both safe and satisfying for Alex.

Mulder, on the other hand, was far from satisfied. The sensation of the other man utterly helpless in his arms had heightened his arousal to an excruciating level, and as soon as Alex's movements indicated a modicum of consciousness Mulder was thrusting frantically between his buttocks. Alex moaned slightly in response, arching up as Mulder's cock brushed tantalizingly over his entrance.

"Tell me . . . how it . . . feels, Alex . . ." Mulder gritted out as he moved.

"Feels? I don't think I can, Mulder. It's like jumping out of a plane, like drowning, like nothing else . . . It's--I can't explain." Alex managed to pull together enough energy to turn slightly in his lover's arms. "But I'd be glad to show you."

Mulder wouldn't have thought he could get any hotter, but those words coming in Alex's still-roughened voice managed to ratchet his arousal up even further. He could hardly get the words out. "Yes . . . please--"

Strength quickly returning, Alex pushed himself to his knees and reached for the belt, which had fallen to the floor when Mulder released it. "Okay, Mulder. Your turn."

Alex skillfully positioned the other man for maximum control, well aware that Mulder's obvious arousal would peak very quickly when this new stimulus was added. "Ready?" he asked.

Mulder's answer was inarticulate but crystal-clear.

Alex put his hand very gently on Mulder's cock, not wanting to risk setting him off too soon. Even the soft graze of Alex's fingertips resulted in an agonized moan. "Okay, Mulder. This'll be quick."

"Please--"

Alex pulled the belt taut, and Mulder gasped a little in response before the ability to do so was cut off.

Alex waited, counting to himself, with nothing more than fluttering touches along Mulder's cock and balls. Then, when he knew Mulder's blood would be beginning to roar, he started moving in earnest. One, two, three, four strokes and Mulder was convulsing. Alex kept up the rhythm until the other man collapsed, then pulled the belt away and guided both of them to the floor.

Mulder came around in just a moment, looking a bit dazed but thoroughly content. "Oh my God, Alex, that was intense. Where in the world did you--Wait, I take that back. None of my business."

Alex didn't want to think about why Mulder's backpedaling gave him a twinge. After all, this was just one more in a summer full of memorable, meaningless fucks. Mulder was just being courteous. Right?

Pushing the unwelcome thought aside, he reached for his backpack and rummaged until he found the hand towel and water bottle that lived inside. Dampening the (fairly clean) towel, he gave his face a quick scrub before cleaning up the rest of his body and moving on to Mulder's.

The older man was still in a languid stupor, but revived quickly at the feel of the cool roughness massaging him gently. "Quite the Boy Scout, Alex," Mulder commented, and once again the detachment in his voice triggered unwelcome reactions.

Alex glanced at his watch. Still several hours before their next stop. Well, there was always one good way to get his mind off unsettling thoughts. He tossed the towel aside and pulled Mulder close for a searching kiss. This definitely was a body that should be enjoyed to the fullest. Alex usually preferred blonds or redheads (he'd spent a particularly enjoyable week in Stockholm), but Mulder's dark, silky hair contrasted so beautifully with his creamy skin. . . . And the elegant, lanky form couldn't be faulted.

Mulder sputtered for air and Alex realized he'd let his mind drift again. He dragged his mouth down Mulder's jaw, burying himself in the strong neck for just a moment before moving down over the ridges of collarbone to smooth planes of pecs. Determined to focus on physical sensations, Alex embarked on a full-out assault on Mulder's nipples. Yes. The sensation of satiny skin pebbling under his tongue, Mulder's breath coming quicker, harsher, Alex's own cock jumping in response to Mulder's renewed thrusts--Alex was riding the wave again. A snarl of pleasure gripped his face as he bucked against the older man, and he bit down--not too hard--and Mulder cried out harshly.

"Alex--yes--God, yes--"

The rush of pleasure Alex felt at the *need* in Mulder's voice would have troubled him if he'd had any mental capacity available to devote to it. As it was, he nipped harder, then turned his head to conquer the other nipple.

"Alex! Oh, please--do you--God, Alex, fuck me!"

Mulder was shuddering so hard by the time Alex's hands even touched the dimples at the base of his spine, Alex wasn't at all sure the man would last long enough for him to get inside. But he was more than willing to try. One arm grabbed for his backpack, found necessary supplies without looking and spilled out a little lube. Mulder's legs were wrapped around his hips, and with one swift stroke Alex's finger was deep inside, stabbing, twisting, skating over Mulder's prostate, and Alex thanked German engineering for well-insulated train compartments.

"You like that, Mulder?" he asked hoarsely.

"Oh God, oh Christ, yes, Alex, yes--Alex, oh--"

"You want more?" //I'm in control here. As it should be.//

"Yes, Alex, more--more--Fuck me, Alex, fuck me *now*--"

Alex pulled his mouth off Mulder's swollen nipple, tore open the foil wrapper and rolled on the condom with practiced ease. Positioning himself at Mulder's entrance, he teased, stroking back and forth along the perineum and the crack of Mulder's ass. Mulder's pleas were now interspersed with threats as he strove to increase the contact.

"What do you want, Mulder?"

"You fucking bastard. Do it, goddamn you! Don't fucking tease me like this--"

//That's right. *He* needs *me.*//

Without warning, Alex thrust and Mulder screamed, stiffening at the intensity of the pain even as it melted into a different type of burn.

"Is that how you want it?"

"Yes, yes--Alex--Jesus, yes--"

Alex thrust again. "You like it rough, Mulder?" Another plunge. "Is that what you *need*?"

Mulder couldn't articulate an answer, instead grappling for Alex's buttocks to pull him in harder, deeper, arching and clenching his muscles to intensify the sensation.

"Aaahh--lord, Mulder, you feel so fucking good . . ."

"Fuck me, Alex; do it to me!"

Alex was eager to comply, but forced himself to hold still a few moments first, just to see if Mulder's curses could get any more original.

Alex had Mulder's arms safely pinned, but when one of the older man's open-mouthed lunges came perilously close to connecting, Alex gave in and began thrusting in earnest.

"Tell me, Mulder . . ." Alex said, attempting to cover his own need with a semblance of sadism.

"Yes, Alex--fuck me harder--finish it, damn you!" Mulder snarled in response.

Alex moved his hands to Mulder's pulsing cock, eliciting a strained gasp as his fingers brushed the supersensitized crown. Settling his left hand firmly around the base and balls, Alex began stroking with his right in concert with his thrusts. Mulder groaned as he realized Alex was returning his favor with the buttons from earlier in the evening.

"Oh, don't worry, Mulder. I'll finish it," Alex rasped. "I'll finish it when *I'm* ready."

"Fucking bastard; I'll kill you . . ." The overwhelming sensations from Alex's cock, seemingly about to split him in two, and those maddening hands, stroking and teasing in their intentionally frustrating dance, had burned away Mulder's educated, urbane exterior, leaving him capable of only the most primitive demands. His hands flailed in ineffectual attempts to force Alex to allow him satisfaction. Mulder lunged forward again and Alex caught the snapping mouth with his own, initiating a searing kiss that effectively diverted Mulder's rage, at least temporarily.

Finally, Mulder's anger turned to whimpers and Alex took pity on him. Pumping harder with both cock and hand, he eased up on the grip he'd maintained around Mulder's base, moving those fingers down to stroke Mulder's throbbing balls.

The spasms began almost immediately, hot wetness spattering both their chests, and the molten silk of Mulder's ass seizing around him sent Alex flying as well.

*****

The train began to slow as it neared the Rome station. The change in motion roused Alex from his doze. Mulder was still sound asleep, and Alex dressed quietly in the gray light of dawn. He'd originally planned to stay on board to the end of the line, but the events of the past few hours had changed his mind. Mulder was too dangerous. Better to get away while he still could.

Alex had many goals, both short- and long-term, and none of them involved falling for a dark-haired man with haunted eyes and a rusty laugh. He was confident once he put a few days and a few miles between him and Mulder the encounter would fade, take its appropriate place in his summer adventures. Still, he couldn't help leaving a scrap of paper behind, though he managed to avoid considering exactly why.

Not wanting the naked Mulder to be rousted by the train staff who were sure to be around during or soon after the stop, Alex let the compartment door slam a bit behind him.

Mulder awoke at the noise and found himself alone. As he dressed somewhat groggily, a matchbook on the opposite seat caught his eye. Cardarelli's Pizza in Sausalito, California. Flipping the cover open, he read "Mulder--Nice to meet you.--Alex."

Mulder looked at the words for a few moments before closing the book and shoving it into his pocket. Time to head back to England, he thought, as he went in search of a train schedule. This little interlude had been good for him--reminded him that there was more to life than that bitch Phoebe.

He vaguely thought he might look Alex up when he got back to the States. Sausalito was a small town, after all, and Krycek wasn't all that common a name. The young man was certainly worth adding to his "if I'm in town" address book.

But when he got back to Oxford, the pants went into the laundry without a second thought, and although the information was filed somewhere in the back of his mind, life got in the way and he never acted on it. And Alex's idyllic summer ended, and he returned home to prepare for college, and he did his best to forget that man on the train who had somehow stolen part of his heart.

*****

FINIS

P.S. Please don't write to tell us they'd need to change trains or the compartments aren't like that. We don't want to know. Oh, and anyone who needs to be told it's not a good idea to let a man you've just met on a train put a belt around your neck . . . .