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Here and Then by Te

27 October 1998
Here and Then
by Te
10/98
Disclaimers: Not mine, and I think that suits everyone just fine.
Spoilers: Not a one, but I'd say this took place sometime around Sleepless.
Summary: Hot days and conversation.
Ratings Note: Strong R for nasty language, implied m/m interaction, and general wrongness.
Author's Note: I was talking to Kix and this happened.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Kix and Rachel for being fine audiences. Thanks also go to Spike for fine beta, and to my Sister Blue, for she doth make me smile.


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Here and Then
by Te

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Another stakeout.

There couldn't possibly be anything worse than being stuck in a car for six hours with Junior G-Man the Gregarious. If Mulder had to listen to *one* more wholesome anecdote about life in northern Florida...

"... and then Mom really wanted me to take Susie to the prom, but..."

Alex Krycek was going to have to die.

"... she *never* fixed her hair right, and let me tell you right now, Mulder, a five foot two inch woman has no right to size 11 shoes..."

Alex Krycek was going to die slow, and painful.

"... And disco was *dead* by then, even in Florida. But did Susie care? Nooo...."

//Loooove... love to love you, baby...//

"... And besides, I really wanted to go with..."

And Mulder was going to enjoy every second of the punishment.

"... now *he* was fucking hot. Long, long legs, washboard abs--"

"What?!"

Alex blinked at him innocently. "Hmmm...?"

"What did you just say, Krycek?"

"You could call me Alex, you know."

"What... Alex, what were you saying?"

"Oh, I was just talking about the prom... and Michael..." Bland tones. Tones that make a man long, desperately, to pull a gun.

"Michael."

"Um-hmm..." Alex took a pull on his Caffeine Free Diet Coke

//Slogan: What's the point?//

and leaned back in his seat. "I didn't think you were really interested..."

Mulder could use the opportunity to interrogate the annoying little punk, but the use of the word interest couldn't possibly be coincidental. He'd have to play this carefully.

"Well, Alex..." Mulder took a moment to steal a furtive glance at his new -- God help him -- partner. Caught the sour twist to the mouth with some measure of satisfaction. He'd put just enough stress on the name to make it clear he was mocking. Perfect. "There's nothing going on, the radio doesn't work, and I think you've exhausted the anecdotal capabilities of Bigfoot Susie. Tell me about Michael."

//You vill tell us everythink. Ve haf vays...//

Alex shot him an unreadable glance from beneath his lashes. "Well, if you'd really like to know..."

//Punk. Ass. Son. Of. A. Bitch.//

"Talk or don't talk. I think there's some cold calzone in the back if you really need *something* to do with your mouth."

Alex heaved a truly impressive sigh. For a moment Mulder thought of Scully, then felt his stomach clench -- it was entirely possible the other man would use this opportunity for yet another lecture on Bureau policy and proper workplace behavior.

//Please, God, no...//

But Alex merely smirked -- an oddly natural expression on the blandly pretty face -- and let forth.

"Michael was a year younger than me. A junior. Transfer student from somewhere up North..."

Mulder could detect the faint traces of a crushed accent and a part of his mind began replaying favorite scenes from Deliverance.

"... never took well to the sun." A smile in the voice. "Burn and peel, burn and peel... he finally took up all indoor sports so Mr. Carlson couldn't send him back into the sun anymore."

Mulder caught himself feeling a little impatient, but he was *almost* positive Alex couldn't know how much of a pervert he really was. Yet. Best to play it safe.

"So he wound up on the basketball team. We sucked, Mulder -- countywide -- but hell, we were tall, and the shorts were comfortable."

Mulder nodded. He'd always liked the way that satin felt on his ass, on his cock. Not that you could go commando during an actual *game*, but there were other times...

"So, anyway, we got to be friends. There's no fucking way I would've passed calculus without Michael, and I kept him from getting his ass kicked a lot. Managed to keep the ass kickings down to once or twice a week. Michael was a city boy, you know?"

Duelling banjos played merrily in Mulder's mind.

"When we started fucking it was kind of a shock. I mean, sure, I noticed what a sweet little ass he had, but I was just a kid..."

Mulder blinked, did his best to actually *swallow* his iced tea, nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging yet mostly un-prurient way.

"... over at his Mom's house one night, studying for a midterm. Mrs. Golden was a waitress at this truck-stop, working nights for a while. Never did find out where his Dad was... Anyway, he's doing his best to explain integration to me, I was doing my best to piss him off with the absolute *worst* racist jokes I could think of."

//You really are a prick. My fucking God, how did I wind up with you?//

"... starting to work. He slammed his book closed, told me to get the fuck out. It occurred to me that I might have gone too far."

Another smirk, a black little laugh. Mulder felt his stomach twist again.

"So I started apologizin', telling him I was just kiddin' and all..."

The accent was getting thicker. Mulder had the distinct impression that he was trapped in a small vehicle with an exceedingly dangerous animal.

"... *really* upset. His eyes... they were really dark brown. Almost black. I think he maybe had some Indian blood somewhere in his past. Anyway, his eyes were all bright like he was gonna start bawlin' any minute. Couldn't have that."

"No, of course not." Mulder was abruptly convinced that the dreamy horror in his voice was bell-clear to his companion.

"Damn right. So I took him by the shoulders -- still a bit bony, he was only 16 -- and made him look me in the eyes. Asked him what was really botherin' him."

"Which was?"

"Oh, he went off on this whole long rant about what stupid, bigoted fucks we all were, and how much he wanted to go back home to... to Vermont, yeah, that's where he was from. I thought about bringin' up how easy it was to be liberal and open-minded in a state so lily-white it had a fuckin' *glare*, but decided against it. He really was worked up."

"Of course." There was a sort of fascination to this, really. The gleeful pathology of a... of a what? Mulder couldn't say for sure. He had an image of himself staying up nights prying apart the nasty little puzzle Alex Krycek was turning out to be.

"... said, 'It's because you're queer isn't it? Gay, I mean.' He stiffened under my hands. I could feel it. Like he wasn't sure whether to try to hit me or run away."

//Probably should've run. Poor bastard.//

"I smiled at him, then. Gentle-like. Slid my hands down his arms... he had all these wiry muscles and they kept jumping and bunching... He asked me what the fuck I was doing. Hell, I didn't know. I know I was blushing... but it was dark in that foyer."

"I take it he didn't hit you."

A snort. "Well... it was still a distinct possibility. Right up until I grabbed his ass and pulled him against me. He was rock hard, Mulder, I tell no lie. Before I started thinkin' again I kissed him hard. Like I was kissin' a woman. Like I was gonna flip him into the back seat of my Chrysler and use him in the middle of the double feature."

//Why do I get the feeling his seduction techniques haven't improved in the intervening years?//

"... strugglin' a little bit, but I knew he wanted it. I started thinkin' about how he always kinda hung around after practice. Those too-long looks in the locker room. Hell, no wonder he was always gettin' his ass beat down. I ground against him. I was startin' to get a little hard myself--"

"Just a little?"

//Pig. Fucking pig.//

Dark little chuckle. "Well, maybe more than a little. But it felt... it felt damn good, Mulder. And he tasted good, too. Potato chips and sugary soda and this hot little tongue trying to whip around my mouth... I wanted him to suck me, right then and there. I wanted him on his knees on his mama's neat little runners and I wanted his mouth on my cock. Maybe even needed it."

"Maybe?"

"Oh, fuck off, Mulder. If you ever kissed that boy, you'd need it, too."

Mulder heard himself start to laugh and stifled it as quickly as possible. But he knew Alex heard it anyway.

"I told him what I wanted. Promised to get him off, too, if he just sucked me. He *moaned*. Right into my mouth and started shakin'. I told him it was all right. Told him I wanted it just as badly. Whispered all sorts of bullshit in his ear... but I wasn't lyin' about his ass. I knew I was gonna have that, too, someday."

"Confident sonofabitch, weren't you?"

Alex looked at him for a moment, made a briefly frustrated gesture with his left hand, and Mulder wondered if he was ever a smoker.

"Well, Mulder..." And the accent had died, just like that. " When's the last time *you* had a pretty little boy shaking in your arms? When's the last time someone dropped to their knees in front of those expensive slacks of yours? Fumbled with the zipper until he could pull you out -- thick and hard and dripping?"

Mulder tensed in his seat, ruthlessly beating back the urge to squirm under the ophidian stare of his partner. "This isn't about me, Alex."

"Isn't it? No matter. Michael knew how to suck cock. Took me deep without another word and then dropped his hands to his sides. Permission like that doesn't come *every* day, I grabbed his head and fucked his mouth. Too hard, but he just took it and moaned some more, spit running out of the side of his mouth, eyes shut *tight* -- it was over fast, and I nearly fell down afterwards."

Mulder felt the bulge in his shorts, but couldn't work up any more horror than he already felt. He decided to work on self-disgust.

"... sort of led me back to his bedroom. He kissed me, and the taste of myself on those swollen lips made me twitch. I wound up jerking him off. My mouth on his. Swallowing his cries. Couldn't really call them screams... too breathless and low. Michael was damned sexy."

"And you just... you just kept on after that?"

"Every chance we got. I have to give him credit. He never got all lovey on me. We were buddies who happened to do a lot of fucking. I could respect that."

//Good for fucking you. Jesus.//

"And yet you wanted to take him to the prom?"

Alex snickered. "Are you fucking kidding me? We would've been lynched. I was just trying to... get your attention."

A pause, and Alex turned in his seat. Fixed Mulder to his own with the sort of look that left nothing to the imagination. Mulder didn't even bother to lie to himself. Ten minutes after they got back to the hotel he damn well planned to be so far up Alex's ass the younger man would be able to taste it when he came. But he could try to play it cool.

"Get my attention."

The voice was warm with humor and husk, though the words were pure professionalism. "Exactly, Agent Mulder. Tell me, did I succeed?"

"I'd say that depends on how much "Michael" taught you, Agent Krycek."

//You nasty little fuck.//

Alex grinned at him. A perfect slash of white little G-Man goodness that felt positively obscene. "Wait and see. Wait and see."

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End.
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