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Wishes - A Christmas Tale

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Wishes by Sugar Rush

12 Dec 1997
The characters contained in this story are not my property. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and 20th Century-Fox Broadcasting.
Rated NC-17 for consensual m/m sex on Christmas Eve. Minors, turn back now!! This stuff will rot your brain. Really! I mean, look at me...
Mulder receives a not-so-unwelcome visitation on the night before Christmas. Semi-spoilers for A Christmas Carol, with one caveat -- I started writing this before Christmas Carol aired, so my continuity doesn't exactly jibe with the episode. For purposes of this story, assume that Scully arrives at her brother's house in San Diego on Christmas Eve rather than December 21.
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This is my last one for 1997, folks. Hope you all enjoy it!!

A Christmas Tale
by Sugar Rush

His apartment was dark and cold, had been ever since he got home from work. He'd turned on the lamp and heater and took a steaming shower, but that'd only eased the chill for a little while. Even slumped here on the couch fully-dressed and with a blanket tucked up under his chin, he still felt frozen all the way to the bone.

It was snowing now, he could see it, plump white flakes floating softly, silently to the ground just outside his window. By tomorrow morning everything would be covered. Good thing he wasn't planning on going anywhere...

The phone rang, splitting his reverie like a ripe melon; he swiped at it, finally snagging the receiver on his second try. "H'lo?"

"Mulder, it's me," came a familiar voice, slightly scratchy, distant. "Just wanted to let you know I got in okay."

Scully. The one person he actually wanted to talk to tonight. "How was your flight?"

"Long and bumpy, rained the whole time. El Nino's making its presence felt, even out here in California. Anyway, I just wanted to touch bases, make sure everything's all right."

He knew exactly what she meant; he tugged the blanket tighter around him, fighting off a sudden icy finger wiggling down the back of his neck.

"Mulder? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, everything's fine," he mumbled. "Listen, you have fun with your folks, take lots of pictures so you can tell me all about it when you get back--"

"Are you going to your mom's tomorrow?"

He knew she'd ask that, had steeled himself for it, but that still didn't lessen the physical shock the actual sound of the words sent rocketing through him. "Um, no,, I decided against it."


"I talked to her, Scully, just this morning, and...after what happened, after that confrontation we had a couple months ago, the accusations I made...if I could take them all back I would, but I can't. It's too soon. A visit right now would do more harm than good."

She didn't reply right away; only her breath's soft, steady rhythm told him she was still there. "You're probably right," she answered finally.

"Scully, d'you ever wish that things...I dunno, that they'd turned out different? That you could go back in time and fix it, make everything come out all right?"

"Mulder, why're you...what brought this on so suddenly?"

"Do you, Scully? Do you ever wish that?"

"I've wished...a lot of things," she said softly, wistfully. "Listen, I have to go, Tara's got dinner ready. See you soon, okay?"

"'Kay. Have a nice time."

"I will. G'night, Mulder. Merry Christmas."

He sat there for the longest time, still holding the receiver, finally putting it back when it started emitting an annoying high-pitched whine. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since that morning. Some soup sounded, steaming tomato soup, warming him from the inside out...

But there wasn't a can to be found anywhere. No tomato, no vegetable, not even his choice of last resort, chicken noodle. Oh, well, maybe a beer'd do the trick--

No beer. Not much in the fridge at all except for a couple apples, a block of hairy-looking cheese--

And a bottle of wine. Red wine. The kind with a cork instead of a screw-on top. Funny, but he didn't remember buying it; he must've shoved it in the fridge a couple months ago and forgotten about it. Grabbing a tumbler from the dish drainer, he rummaged in a drawer until he found a corkscrew and wrestled the cork out of the bottle, half-mangling it in the process, sloshing a couple ounces into the glass, taking a hard-won sip.

To his surprise, it was good -- smoky, smooth, gliding across his tongue like melted chocolate, comfortable warmth curling in his stomach. Just what he needed.

He snagged the bottle and headed back towards the couch, stopping at the thermostat on the way, frowning when he saw the temperature indicator still hovering in the mid-fifties; he could've sworn he'd turned it on when he came in. Flicking it up to seventy-five, he held his breath and waited, finally hearing the furnace's initial click and whirr, then the soft whoosh of heated air wafting up through the vent.

Rewrapping himself in his blanket's protective plaid wool cocoon, he started flipping channels with the TV remote, slumping back on the couch, sipping wine, zoning out. One of the classic movie channels was showing IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE -- mercifully, *not* the colorized version -- and he stopped, watching Jimmy Stewart and his family decorating their tree, smiling, singing, finally fading to black.

He flicked off the TV, tossing the remote on the table, sitting up to pour himself more wine, gaze sweeping the apartment as he did so. No tree, no decorations, no Christmas cards. Scully was the only one who'd given him a card this year, and he'd left it taped to his computer monitor at work. He had a fake tree and some ornaments his mother had given him a few years ago, but somehow it'd just seemed like too much trouble to drag it out of the closet. Besides, he remembered all the decorations from when he was a kid, especially that pretty blue foil angel Samantha'd liked so much...

He downed his wine in one gulp, poured himself some more. God, but he wished Scully was here. Part of him resented the fact that she'd chosen to spend this Christmas with Bill's family in San Diego, though another part of him, the rational part, realized simultaneously how selfish that wish was. He had no right to begrudge her this downtime, especially when only a few weeks ago neither of them had thought she would live to see another Christmas. He had her back now, his partner and friend, safe and well. That was something to be grateful for.

Most of the time he was grateful enough just being alone; he liked the quiet, even on those still-frequent nights of insomnia. But tonight felt different...tonight it felt like the walls were closing in, stifling him...

He tossed the blanket off, suddenly warm -- too warm. The furnace had kicked in with a vengeance, and between that and the wine, he was actually starting to sweat. It felt good, though...he took another sip, savoring the sensation of tiny fingers tickling all the way down into his belly, fresh waves of heat radiating everywhere, leaving him pleasantly foggy-brained, drifting toward sleep...

Drifting, but not quite there yet. He scooped up the remote again, flicking the TV back on, idly toying with the idea of popping a tape in the VCR, but somehow the thought of watching porn on Christmas Eve left a sour taste in his mouth. Flipping channels, he finally stopped at the last one at the top of the band, the one that showed a burning yule log all night on Christmas Eve. If this didn't bore him to sleep, nothing would.

He tossed back the last of the wine in his glass, then set the glass aside, eyes floating shut, listening to the faint crackle of flame coming from his TV, lulling his breathing to a slow, steady rhythm. If he just let himself go with it he could almost convince himself it was real, that he was lying here on a thick red carpet in front of a stone fireplace, soft gold painting spiky patterns beneath his eyelids. Yeah, maybe if he just kept breathing like this, kept his eyes closed, maybe he'd convince himself that those fingertips trailing up his arm and shoulder, brushing the hair from the nape of his neck belonged to--

"Guess you liked my present, huh?" came a voice close to his ear, low, breathy, familiar--

Too damn familiar. "Jesus!" he cried, rolling onto his back, staring up into deep green eyes. "What the hell're you doing here?"

"Kissing you, or trying to. You didn't seem to be minding a second ago--"

"Get out of here, Alex. Now."


"Get out before I smash your face in."

"Is that any way to talk to someone who's only trying to make your Christmas wish come true?"

That almost made him laugh. Almost. "I never wished for this."

"Really? So what was all that you were saying to Scully, about going back in time, putting everything right?" Another angry reply hung on his lips, but Alex laid two gentle fingers there, and the words faded away. "We never got a chance to spend Christmas together, Mulder. I regret that, and I, um...think you do too."

He jerked back, poised to jump to his feet when something suddenly caught his eye, something colorful, flickering in the background--

A tree, covered in flashing lights, colored balls, silver and gold tinsel garlands -- a real one, he could smell the sharp, spicy scent of pine halfway across the room. And sitting there at the very top, a shiny blue angel. Samantha's angel.

His fingers brushed the plush red carpet beneath him, eyes following, staring, seeing, not believing. Heat licked at his back, too immediate and intense to be coming from the furnace. A fireplace, right where his TV'd been. Just like he'd imagined a few minutes ago...

"Hope you don't mind me taking the liberty of redecorating," Alex murmured.

"H-how'd you do all this?"

"You made a wish, and you drank the gift I left you." He nodded at the wine bottle. "It's a magic elixir. Makes anything you want tonight possible."

"Oh, gimme a break, Alex--"

"You believe in UFO's, lake monsters and the Fiji mermaid, but not this? Mulder, sometimes you really disappoint me."

Jesus, he was drunk, completely shit-faced, he had to be. Flopping back on the rug, he rubbed at his eyelids, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. Alex wasn't really here; he was a dream, a wine-soaked hallucination. When he opened his eyes again he'd be alone on the couch with the blanket back over him--

He wouldn't see Alex's face, Alex's sea-green eyes looking down at him, hovering over him with serious intent, that tiny space between his eyebrows crinkled with concern. "You okay?"

"Oh, God...oh, Jesus..." he breathed, reaching up, fingertips making contact with warm, silky skin. "Th-this *is*'re real..."

"I told you."

" still haven't explained how--"

"Don't fight it, Mulder. It's what we both want. Isn't that enough?"

"Alex, I don't...please..." He'd intended it as a protest, but Alex's mouth coming down on his turned it into a full-throated moan. Stray memories flitted at the edges of his mind, dissipating like morning fog as Alex's tongue swept gently, insistently between his lips, a hot burst of mingled flavor and sensation ripping through him, sweet and stinging and bitter all at once--

He was sure he'd pass out before they finally broke apart, chests heaving, mouths still scant millimeters from touching, close enough to taste Alex's breath, feel it feathering his own skin, soft and warm.

"I won't be here when you wake up tomorrow morning," Alex whispered, fingertips softly combing through the hair at Mulder's temple, lips dusting his cheek, his forehead. "The magic only lasts one night. Let's not waste it."

He shook his head, this time with no danger of either of them interpreting it as a protest. The past was just that, shunted aside, forgotten, at least for tonight. He'd deal with any residual qualms in the morning. Right now the need between them was too strong, too urgent.

Alex grinned, leaning down for another kiss, languid and drugging, one hand drifting down to the waistband of Mulder's jeans, tugging his t-shirt free. "Lift up" was all he said, and Mulder obeyed, sitting up briefly to let Alex drag the shirt over his head. But when he tried doing the same for Alex, Alex scooted away. "Hey, not fair..."

"Take it easy, you'll get your turn," Alex said, grabbing the wine bottle, pouring some into Mulder's tumbler, taking a long sip. "S'good. Want some more?" Off his nod, Alex stretched out beside him, propped on his elbow, dipping two fingers in the tumbler, slowly, tantalizingly anointing Mulder's lips with fat ruby droplets, taking another sip himself--

Swooping down to claim Mulder's mouth again, deep and rough this time, tongues dueling, dancing a breathless, insane tango, tasting their own tastes coupled with the wine, all musk and honey, sharp and smooth as a shiny new knife--

Alex rolled on top of him, taking his weight on both hands, calmer, gentler now, raining soft butterfly kisses on his eyelids, tracing the bridge of his nose with the tip of his tongue, nipping, licking at the corners of Mulder's mouth, lapping at the last traces of wine lingering there like a greedy kitten with a bowl of cream. "You like?" he asked with a lazy smile, rotating his hips against Mulder's belly.

God, they were both hard as steel already, and all they'd done was kiss. "Wh-what d'you think?" he groaned with a tiny upward push of his own hips, just to make sure Alex didn't mistake his meaning.

He didn't, if his widening grin was any indication. "I think I want you naked." He was up on his knees in the next second, fingers fumbling with Mulder's fly button, popping it loose, easing the zipper down over Mulder's straining erection, hooking both thumbs in his waistband, yanking the rough denim down over his hips along with his boxers--

He wasn't sure if it was passion or the shock of his stiffened flesh springing free that made him gasp, but the latter passed swiftly enough, the fire's warmth soothing, enveloping him better than any blanket. He let one hand drift downward, grasping, gently stroking himself, gazes locking as Alex skinned his jeans down and off, green eyes sparkling, issuing a wordless dare--

Mulder's fingers flew to the hem of Alex's t-shirt, tugging it from his jeans, pulling it up as far as he could without help, Alex taking it from there, fingertips brushing, colliding, almost ripping the thin grey cotton at the seam, one sleeve tangling around Alex's arm, finally tossing the shirt aside. Then, sitting back on his heels, a dreamy half-smile curving his lips, he waited, letting Mulder look his fill.

Firelight painted his skin smooth and golden, accenting every delicate ripple in his musculature, like a Renaissance sculpture suddenly sprung to life. Mulder couldn't help leaning forward, touching one tentative hand to Alex's chest, skimming over the crisp dark hair right there in the center, tracing its path downward, all the way down to the waistband of his jeans--

And stopped, one arm wound about Alex's waist, fingers pressed to his belly, lips following, tasting, savoring his skin's warm silkiness and the soft, sweet tremor welling inside him, his own body responding in kind, part fear, part anticipation--

They tumbled to the floor in the next second, Mulder rolling on top this time, pinning Alex beneath him, letting him twist and flail in vain for a few seconds, finally quelling his struggles with another heart-stopping kiss. "My turn now," he said with a smug grin, spying the tumbler of wine sitting on the edge of the table, reaching for it--

Tipping it over Alex's chest, dribbling a few stray drops onto his skin, bending down to lick at it, the tip of his tongue grazing one bronze nipple as he did so, Alex squirming under him, writhing, back arching--

"You like?"

"Jesus, Mulder--"

"What's the matter, can't take a taste of your own torture?"

"Finish it."

"Unh-uh, not yet."

"C'mon, Mulder, I'm dying here..."

"Thought you said this was *my* Christmas present," he teased, falling to his task again, following the splattered reddish-purple trail down to Alex's navel, tracing the soft puckered rim, darting his tongue inside, lapping up the wine that had pooled there, grinning at Alex's strangled moan--

Moving lower, fingers at Alex's fly, freeing him, peeling his jeans down and off, Alex grabbing them before he could fling them aside, fumbling in one pocket, pulling out a slim tube and some shiny foil packets.

"You thought of everything," he murmured, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Alex's belly, doodling a wet, squiggly stripe all the way across with his tongue. "How sweet."

"Oh, for Chrissakes, come *on*..." Alex groaned, voice smoky, ragged, all but gone. In his entire life he'd never heard anything half as erotic. "Just do it, Mulder."

"Do what?"

"You know."

"Say it."


"You told me I could have anything I wanted tonight. I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Y-you fucking bastard..."

"Say it." He waited a few seconds for a reply, but when none seemed forthcoming he picked up where he left off, alternately kissing and nipping a trail down to the sweet indentation where belly joined thigh, one hand wandering, grasping Alex's hard shaft, beginning a slow, gentle stroking. "Say it, Alex."

"You know I want it as much as you do...why d'you have to--"

"Say it or you can finish this yourself." It was cruel, what he was doing; he could feel it, Alex's flesh twitching and throbbing under his fingers, so red and swollen he knew it had to be hurting him. He skimmed his thumb along the thick vein leading up to the rosy mushroom crown, smiling at the milky droplet pearling there, lapping at it with the edge of his tongue, salty and bitter, yet sweet too, just like the wine. "Say the magic words."

"F-fuck me."

"What was that?"

Huge limpid irises glinted back at him, jade flecked with gold, rimming deep inky blackness. "Fuck me...please."

"See? All you had to do was ask nicely," he grinned, moving back up to give Alex a soft, wet kiss on the lips, reaching for the condoms and lube at the same time. His fingers were trembling, so he tore the packet open with his teeth, raising himself up on his knees to roll it on, taking his time, giving Alex a good long eyeful, then grabbing the lubricant, squeezing a cool, slippery blob onto his fingers, sliding his hand under Alex, between round, downy-soft cheeks, searching, probing gently.

He was satiny-smooth inside, hot and tight as a clenched fist, though he opened easily under the pressure of Mulder's fingers. It took all Mulder's willpower to go slow, working the lube deep inside him with steady, fluid strokes, Alex finally thrusting back, impaling himself, letting him know he was ready.

He shifted a little, lifting Alex so that he could wrap his legs around his waist, then, using one hand, positioned himself, giving a tiny push, then another, relief flooding him as he felt the gentle pop of entry, sliding the rest of the way in with no resistance, slick, pulsating heat enveloping, engulfing him--

He stopped, gasping, eyes screwed shut, feeling suddenly as if he'd plunged headlong into a pit of live coals. God, it was good, better than good, but it'd been so damn long for him, he wasn't sure he could last. He would, though. He had to...

"Hey." He heard a voice, felt a gentle touch brushing his wrist and looked down, down at Alex lying there beneath him, lips parted, stray wisps of hair spilling over forehead and cheeks, clinging to sweat-sheened skin. "You okay?"

There it was, that low, breathy tone that sent fresh bursts of lust snaking up his spine, lodging at the back of his brain like a steel spike. Slowly, carefully, he started moving, rocking, sliding both hands under Alex's sweet, tight ass, cupping and stroking him, holding him for deeper, harder thrusts--

He felt it before he saw it, felt Alex clenching around him, muscles rippling up and down the length of him, milking, squeezing, heard him groaning, whimpering, hot, silky white jets spurting all over his belly, dimly realizing he was screaming too, convulsing, sweat pouring into his eyes, slicing through his skin like a million tiny knives, ripping, flaying him, every star in the universe going nova in his head at the same time--

He rolled to the floor, onto his side, boneless, wrung out, curling around Alex, softly kissing his shoulder.

Smiling, Alex bent his head back so their mouths could touch, sweet and wet and deep. "Get everything you wanted?"

His only response was to snuggle closer, bestowing another kiss. He didn't want to talk, just to lie here, afloat in the hazy warmth of afterglow. The rest of the world didn't exist, at least for now.

He let his eyes drift shut, pressing his lips to Alex's throat, skin still salty-moist from their coupling, savoring the solid feel of their bodies spooned together, the steady thump of Alex's heart, his warm, clean flavor, smoke mingled with honey, just like his voice.

Funny, but he'd never known what magic tasted like before. And now he knew...

Now he knew.


"...all is silent and the snow falls
Settling soft and slow
The evening deepens and the grey
Folds closer earth and sky
The world seems shrouded, far away.

Its noises sleep, and I as secret as
Yon buried stream plod dumbly on...and dream...

And dream..."

"Snow," Loreena McKennitt, ©1987