"New dress?"

"Yup, I thought I’d get something a bit different to the old jeans."

Mulder pulled her close, running his hands down her back, enjoying the feel of the silky fabric of the short slip dress against her warm fragrant skin, "And next week’s pay cheque buys some underwear?" he teased.

"Nah, this is the best way to avoid that ‘panty line’ problem." Sandy slipped her arms around his neck, nuzzling into his jaw. "So, what do you think, is this more feminine, hmm? More sexy?" She pushed her pelvis against his, letting him know the dress wasn’t intended for long term wear this morning.

He used his lips to push the straps of the dress from her shoulders, and lip kissed and nuzzled across her collar bones. Her hands were active, pulling up his shirt, attacking the buttons, as he let the dress fall down enough to expose her breasts.

Krycek’s sister, he thought, as he kissed them, This is probably Krycek’s sister – I shouldn’t be doing this. He took the small breasts, smaller than Scully’s, into his mouth, tickling the tiny nipples with his tongue, feeling them harden and pucker between his lips. Does Krycek know I’m doing this to his sister? Does it turn him on to know I’m doing this? Does he touch himself at night thinking about it, thinking about me fucking her, wishing he was her? The idea of Krycek thinking about his sister getting what Mulder knew from the video tapes Krycek so desperately wanted himself, was as arousing as the soft luscious flesh under his lips. He wished Krycek was here, watching, tied up in a chair or something, unable to look away as Mulder prepared to fuck his sister. He licked all around her breasts, over and under, and she very softly moaned, her head falling back, using his shirt to keep her balance. He heard the fabric tear without regret.

He slid to his knees, kissing down her torso as far as the dress would allow, pushed the fabric up her thighs, digging his fingers into her buttocks. He buried his face between her thighs, pushing up into the moist heat there. The short skirt covered his face as he tongued her enthusiastically, gently biting at the soft folds of flesh. Her hands threaded into his hair, holding him hard against her as she ground down against his mouth. Her sighs and groans filled his ears as he ate his fill of her, thrusting his tongue up into her body for the first time.

He loved doing this to women, it was so intimate, and, he admitted, he felt so in control of them at this time, but it never seemed that he’d had enough time to get Sandy into this position before. I’m eating out your sister, Krycek, what do you think of that? Would you get on the floor between our legs and suck my dick if you where here? He nosed through her pubic hair, and grabbed hold of her clitoris with his lips, sucking it mercilessly. Her voice rose another octave from its usual low husky register, and she emitted a series of soft ‘oh’s as he increased the pressure, rubbing hard with his tongue. The contractions started against his face, and she pushed so close he could barely draw breath. Her juices trickled down his lips and chin, and he drank greedily, keeping up the forceful pressure as she came, moaning softly.

He continued to hold and tease her as the spasms slowly faded, feeling the trembling in her thighs as she struggled to stay upright. He stood, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close as she recovered.

"Hmmm..." she murmured against his shoulder, "Oh boy."

"Good?" He had 15 minutes to get to work or he was going to be late, again.

"Oh... yeaaahhhhhhh." Her dress, already dislodged, slithered to the ground.

Looked like he was going to be late again.

He scooped her off the ground and carried her into the bed room, dropping her onto his bed. Mulder bent to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips. She cleaned his face with her tongue, soft relaxed kisses.

"Sandy?"

"Hmmm?"

"I know who you are."

She froze, her hand still on the back of his head, her lips close to his face, "What do you mean?"

"I followed you yesterday."

"Why?" She released him suddenly, pulling away on the bed, looking very vulnerable, nude to Mulder’s being almost fully clothed.

"Because I know it was you who brought the tapes. I followed you, I saw you. Saw... him. I know who you are."

"Oh," she whispered softly, looking confused, a little frightened.

"It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you, I need you. I need your help. I promise that I’ll help you get what we both want. Please, help me?" He reached out and took her hand, feeling the fragile bones beneath her fingers.

But then they weren’t so fragile anymore. It was fast, and for a few seconds, which felt like hours, he simply forgot to breathe. It wasn’t Sandy, small and muscular and pretty, it was... Alex. Large and muscular and pretty. The torso thickened, the breasts disappeared into a slab of pectoral muscle. The face, still elfin and large eyed, became stronger, more angular. Arms and legs, more powerful than the average woman’s, suddenly became perfectly normal on a man.

"Oh." It was all Mulder could think to say. His eyes bulging in his head.

Krycek’s eyes widened, and he jerked his hand away, as he realised. "You said you knew!"

"No... No, this I didn’t know!"

There were a few moments of silence, Mulder stared at the naked man on his bed, his mental bicycle chain slipping off its wheel and clanking along behind him, "I thought you were her sister, I mean, your brother..." Mulder realised he was on the verge of babbling and shut his mouth with a snap.

Mulder made a move towards the bed, and, like the energy released when letting go of a rubber band, Krycek shot forward, off the end of the bed towards the living room. He slowed to grab the discarded dress from the floor, and Mulder threw his whole weight into the tackle. As he brought Krycek to the ground, he felt the flesh seem to melt away, and suddenly it was a woman wriggling from his grasp. He grabbed her ankles as she slithered out from under him, tried to drag her back, but it was a man’s fist that swung round, delivering an awkward unco-ordinated round-house punch to the side of his head.

Mulder rolled with the punch, and Krycek was on his feet, running the wrong way from the door for a few paces in his panic, then pausing, turning and running back to leap over Mulder’s prone from. Mulder launched himself from the floor, grappling with Krycek mid air, forcing him to land heavily on the floor. Mulder rolled on top of the younger man, pinning him to the floor, and wrenching Krycek’s right arm up behind his back before he could twist and fight again.

"Freeze, Krycek, I don’t want to hurt you, okay?" I want to beat your face to a pulp against the floor, I want to fuck you ‘til you scream. "I just want to talk to you."

For a moment he thought Krycek would relax, but then he felt the muscles between his thighs bunch up as his captive prepared to risk a broken arm to escape. Mulder was very aware of his level of unsatiated sexual excitement, as he gripped his thighs around Krycek’s hips. He twisted the captive arm tighter, then pressed the fingers of his other hand against the pressure points in Krycek’s neck in an illegal chock hold. Krycek thrashed to free himself, while Mulder increased the pressure, until the thrashings changed to quivering as consciousness started to fade with blood loss to the brain.

As soon as Krycek was unconscious, Mulder ran to grab the cuffs out of his suit jacket. He cuffed the other man, and dragged him to the sofa, hauling him up to sit with his head between his knees, and rubbed Krycek’s back and neck until full consciousness returned.

Mulder rested Krycek’s forehead in the palm of one hand, and let the other wrap comfortingly around his shoulders. See how friendly I am, Krycek? See how close and intimate I am? You can trust me.

"The headache will pass quickly, just breathe deeply." He eased Krycek back against the sofa, the leather squeaking against bare flesh, "Relax. You’re safe here." Mulder smiled, trying to look convincing, unaware he looked like a wolf, teeth drawn back to reveal fangs. A wolf with the scent of blood. He ran his hands up and down Krycek’s upper arms, and Krycek’s eyes slide sideways, scanning the room, not quite meeting Mulder’s intense gaze.

"Well," Krycek started, cleared his throat and started again, "What now?"

"You tell me. You’re the one who’s been bringing me these tapes. What do you want me to do with them?" Maybe it would be best to let Krycek open the discussion of acting upon this information.

"You weren’t supposed to find out."

"Not supposed to find out you were bringing the tapes, or not supposed to find out I have been sleeping with you? How long did you intend to keep on deceiving me?"

Krycek shrugged, opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind and looked away.

"I’ve been copying the tapes, and the files. Assistant Director Skinner has seen them..."

"Why? They were meant for you. There was no reason to involve anyone else."

"Don’t you realise what we can do with this evidence?"

"I haven’t seen the tapes. As far as I’m aware, reading the files, they are concerned solely with my... programming. Since I’m no longer officially with the FBI, I don’t see that they are worth all that much." Krycek didn’t sound quite as fatalistic as his words suggested.

Mulder suddenly realised that perhaps it wouldn’t be too good to let Krycek see exactly what had been done to him, not just yet anyway. "You know what they programmed you to do?"

"The reports mostly mentioned... drugs, and... personal details. But yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea." The bitterness was heavy in his tone.

"I’m going to call Skinner, get him to start proceedings against these people. With your testimony..."

"I’m not going to testify."

"We can offer you protection..." Krycek interrupted with a disbelieving snort. "We’ll do our best, Krycek. I will personally guarantee your safety."

That didn’t even warrant a reply as far as Krycek was concerned.

"We can start proceedings based on the evidence in these tapes and videos... can you get any more like this?"

"Maybe," Krycek shrugged, "but it would be dangerous for other people, so I don’t think so."

"Hmm... dangerous for you too, no doubt." Mulder used his best conciliatory tone.

Krycek smiled slightly, "I’ve got nothing left to lose right now."

"Then you won’t mind testifying."

Mulder grabbed his cellular phone before Krycek could protest, "Sir? It’s Mulder, I... Yes, sir. I know I should be at work, but... Yes, sir, third time I’ve been late this... Yes, sir. Sir!" Mulder interrupted the tirade, "Those items I’ve been sending to you? Yes, that’s right, sir. I have found the source. No, I think it might be best if you came here. Yes, that’s right. Okay, I’ll see you then."

"Well, Alex," he switched to the other man’s first name, trying to engender a feeling of solidarity between them, "The AD has a meeting, he’ll be here in an hour or so. Do you want something to eat?"

"I’d like these cuffs off." Krycek leaned forward hopefully.

"No, not just yet."

"How about a shower then?"

Mulder realised that the smell of sex was upon both of them, and this wasn’t something he wanted to explain to his boss right now. He’d also have to take care of his own persistent arousal, so perhaps this wasn’t a bad idea.

"Come on, then. There’s a window in there, hope you don’t mind that I stay with you this time?" Mulder asked, not really caring if Krycek did or not.

He stripped the sweats off again, ran the water and pushed the still cuffed Krycek into the torrent. He let the young man soak while he stripped off his own shirt, then grabbed the soap to give Krycek a perfunctory scrub. But it seemed the flesh under his hands needed more. It seemed to Mulder that this body was even more attractive male than female as he lathered his hands and scrubbed Krycek’s hairless chest. As he slipped his hands under Krycek’s armpits, soaping him thoroughly, Krycek sighed softly, his eyes half closed, and Mulder realised how easy it would be to turn him around against the tiles, move against him and relieve the pressure.

And Krycek would allow him, whether from genuine lust, or for favour, it wouldn’t matter. But it did matter, while Krycek was cuffed, while he was Mulder’s captive, anything like this could be construed as harassment. And Mulder didn’t want Krycek having the wedge of police brutality to use against him.

No reason he couldn’t get Krycek as on edge as himself though, he thought slyly, and let his hands slide down Krycek’s wet body, slowly and carefully lathering through the sparse pubic hair and over the shaft. Mulder’s other hand rubbed Krycek’s buttocks, firm circular movements until Krycek started to sway slightly in time with the double stimulation.

Krycek gave him a filthy look which Mulder blithely ignored as he switched off the water and wrapped him in towels. He took Krycek back into the bedroom and dropped him onto the bed. He fished a piece of chain, and a padlock from the bottom of his wardrobe, pulled it through Krycek’s cuffed arms and locked him to the bed head. He dropped a loving, slightly mocking kiss onto Krycek’s frowning forehead before taking himself off to the bathroom, using the shower to get acquainted with his old friend, mother fist. He wanted to be thinking clearly to deal with all of this.

It didn’t take long, thinking of Krycek here with him, his flesh melting, accepting, his mind taking similar scenes with Sandy and adding the male aspect... cream flowed through his fingers and he braced himself against the wall with his knees as the weakness spread. He turned off the water and wandered into his bedroom naked. Mulder grabbed the damp towels he’d wrapped around Krycek to dry himself, enjoying staring at Krycek’s nakedness.

Mulder rummaged through his closets, finding an old, slightly baggy pair of jeans and a pullover for Krycek, dropping them on the bed while he dressed in one of his best suits. He made sure that his hair was properly in place, his tie neat, and his shoes shined before he bothered to uncuff Krycek to let him get dressed. He casually covered the ex-agent with his gun, making it clear, but not too overt, that he wasn’t going to allow Krycek to get away, not now.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Krycek snapped, irritated with Mulder’s posing.

"Change sexes like that. How do you do it?"

Krycek stared at him a moment, then put one finger to his nose, wiggling it back and forth ala Tabatha.

"Oh, it does not work like that!" exclaimed Mulder.

"Well, duh!" Krycek rolled his eyes.

Mulder snorted in disgust "Put your hands out," he ordered, and cuffed the other man again. This time letting him have the dignity of his hands in front. "It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that... I don’t trust you."

Mulder set the coffee filter to drip while they waited for Skinner. Krycek fidgeted nervously on the couch, but he wasn’t trying to escape. He was probably nervous about seeing Skinner again, considering the way their last meeting had gone. Mulder wondered why Krycek’s attack had been so savage. He’d seen Skinner’s bruises, that was more than a robbery, there had been something very personal between them for Krycek to attack like that. There was nothing in the tapes and files he’d seen to suggest Krycek had been programmed to be so savage. Me wondered if he could get that information out of his ‘guest’.

The bing of the automated coffee machine brought his attention back to the here and now. Krycek liked milk in his coffee, or at least Sandy did, Mulder supposed that didn’t change. He sniffed the milk, looked like they’d all be drinking it black. He was trying to beat the lumps down the sink hole with a spatula when he heard Skinner’s knock.

Skinner looked down briefly at the man in cuffs, and Mulder was quite fascinated to watch Krycek’s attempt at manipulation. It wasn’t much, but Krycek shrank in upon himself. Not in cowardice, but a deliberate attempt to make himself appear smaller, less threatening. Looking up with green eyes wide, lips parted and just a little moist. It was almost easy to forget the violence this man was capable of... Mulder wondered if Skinner was remembering the strength of blows past delivered.

"He’ll testify?" Matter-of-fact, not looking at Mulder.

"No." Krycek thought he’d try.

"He’ll testify," Mulder answered, equally matter-of-factly.

"We’ll have to get him to a safe house." Skinner’s body language was giving away his desire to repay the violence he’d received, but he was aware of his position, and police brutality would not get this man on the stand. His fingers itched to pound the ingenuous look off Krycek’s face, he could almost savour the imagined feel of flesh crushed under the power of his anger. He also remembered he was half as heavy again as this young man, and turned to take the coffee Mulder offered, walking to the window, away from temptation.

"Sir, I’d rather keep him with me." Mulder followed, turning his back on Krycek and lowering his voice to maintain some minor confidentiality.

"We can put you both under protective custody, Mulder."

"It’s not that, sir. It’s just that... the people we are going up against. I don’t think any government safe house is going to be safe. I’d rather keep him here. At least for now."

"With the regularity your apartment is ransacked, Mulder, I am not sure that’s a very good idea."

"No one knows that he’s here, but if I take him into a safe house, someone will find out. You know these people, there’s no way we could get him in secretly. As soon as they find him, he’s dead."

"Maybe you’re right, but can you keep him here and guarantee your own safety? The man is a killer."

"We don’t know that for sure," Mulder raised his hand to forestall the incipient protest, "You’ve seen the tapes, I really don’t think I’m in any immediate danger. Not from Krycek directly, anyway. If I think it won’t work, I’ll take him to a hotel."

Skinner nodded, "How did you catch him?"

"He came in by himself, sir." It was the truth, Mulder thought, almost the truth anyway.

"Does Agent Scully know?"

"I haven’t told her he’s here yet."

"Do so." And Skinner left, throwing one last cold parting glare at Krycek.

Krycek waited until the Assistant Director had left, "They won’t let me live to testify, Mulder. You know that."

Mulder nodded, thoughtful, staring at the door after Skinner, "Actually, I think there’s a way around that. But I’ll talk that over with Scully later.

Mulder stood, lost in thought, chewing a thumbnail, ‘til Krycek finally stood up, "I have to use the bathroom. And Mulder..."

"Hmm?"

"...alone this time, okay?"

Mulder grinned, seemed to him after some of the things they’d done, watching Krycek take a leak would be a pretty minor intimacy. But he let the man have his privacy, the cuffs would limit any escape attempt.

Krycek waited ‘til the door closed, and changed back to female. As soon as he did, cuffs that were comfortably tight on a man were easily loose on a woman; he bent his thumb into his palm and let the cuff slip off his right wrist. The bathroom window was just large enough to let the smaller figure slide through, and the fall was just low enough once shortened by the fire escape to be tolerable to his solid masculine frame.

As soon as his feet hit the grass he bolted, unheeding of bare feet on rough pavement or broken glass, getting away before Mulder was even at the outside of the building.

Mulder flagged down Skinner’s car as the AD was waiting at the lights, "He’s gone, sir."

"What?"

"He got out the bathroom window."

"And you said you could look after him. Come on, get in. Which way did he go?"

"I didn’t see, sir, but I have an idea. I know where he’s been living."

"He’s hardly likely to go back there."

"No, but he has a job. He mentioned it this morning. I have an idea of his movements over the past few days, where he’s been coming and going, and I know he’s working evenings. He’s pretty desperate for cash right now, and doesn’t know that I know where he’s been working." Mulder gave an address to Skinner, "He’s probably not there yet, but we can start getting an idea of where."

"Mulder, there’s more to this than you’re telling me. If you have been following his movements, why haven’t you brought him in?"

"I... uh... didn’t know it was him..." it sounded lame even to Mulder, the king of unbelievable excuses.

"Explain, Agent Mulder."

"I... I’ve been seeing this woman..."

"And?"

"And... it wasn’t a woman, it was Krycek."

"Krycek."

"Yes, sir. You see... do you remember the Kindred?"

"Kindred?"

"They were a cult community, living like the Amish."

"The sex change killings?"

"That’s right, sir. But not exactly sex change, they were aliens who could change gender."

"So you’re telling me Krycek is one of these aliens?"

"No, sir. Not exactly. But at some point he survived an attack by one of them, and my guess is that he didn’t absorb enough of their fluids to be killed, but perhaps just enough to have his DNA affected so that he could mimic, in some limited sense, their ability to change gender."

"Only a limited sense?"

"Well, he didn’t change as much as they did. The killer underwent quite a remarkable transformation: hair, skeleton, everything changed. Krycek changes genders, but he didn’t display the rather dramatic changes the Kindred did, nor does he appear to exude the pheromones that cause uncontrollable sexual responses in their victims. Also, he doesn’t kill by the exchange of bodily fluids as the Kindred did."

"And you know this how?"

Mulder decided that it was time to be blunt, "I’ve been having sex with him, sir. Her. He was a her. I didn’t know it was Krycek."

Skinner exhaled sharply. "This complicates matters." He felt that was an entirely inadequate response, but that piece of news was rather like a blow to the stomach.

"Yes, sir. In a way. Although I feel it could work to our advantage."

"And how does screwing a witness work to our advantage, Agent Mulder?"

"He’s obsessed enough with me to risk getting caught in order to get close to me. Whether this is natural, or caused by the programming we’ve witnessed, I don’t know, but it gives us an edge. It also means it’s highly unlikely he’s going to attack me. Although..."

"Although what?"

"You’ve seen those tapes. You’ve seen how he was programmed to react to Agent Scully, I’m worried he may attack her if provoked or threatened. At this stage I think they should be kept apart."

"She won’t like being excluded, Agent Mulder."

"No, sir. Also, I really don’t think he’s going to go far."

"Why not?"

"He has no where else to go. No where to run to. He might be afraid of going up against the Consortium, but I don’t think right now he has any other options. Stop here."

Skinner pulled over and parked his car.

"It’s going to be one of these two clubs. I saw him slip into the alley behind here; I think he has a job in one of these clubs. Some job for cash, that doesn’t require any ID. Possibly a dishwasher, or a waiter."

"Which one?"

Mulder ran a brief psychological program in his mind, using eidetic memory to recall what he could of Krycek’s psyche profile.

"Beau Monde."

"Why that one?"

"It’s a gay bar, sir, was an exclusive leather bar a couple of years back."

"Ah." Skinner didn’t want to comment on that. He didn’t need the image of Mulder hanging out in a leather bar in his head right now. This whole case was as close to the edge as it was. He really shouldn’t be surprised at anything Mulder did or said. Not after all this time. You get to a certain point in life and think there’s nothing more to learn, nothing more that they can throw at you. And then a Mulder walks into your life. And you’re expected to be totally unfazed by aliens, or gender bending freaks, or werewolves or vampires. Suddenly half human/half blood sucking leech people and metal implants become a casual part of life. He sighed. "How long ‘til we go get him?" Skinner was going to let Mulder set the pace on this one.

"We can’t call in backup, but with only the two of us and his chance to bolt... let’s go get some lunch and come back when he’s likely to be working, give him a few hours to relax, to think we don’t know where he is. He should be easier to pick up then."

Krycek stared out from the rooftop where he had climbed. It wasn’t a great view from here, mostly of the streets and surrounding suburbs, but this late at night the area was quiet. With the moon out, its light bleaching colour from the landscape ‘til everything looked like a black and white movie, moonlight kissing the details away. There was a peaceful unreality that allowed him to let go of all the confusion, pain, and anger. He breathed deeply – fresh air – tinged with car fumes, alcohol, cigarette smoke and left over smog. He’d enjoyed the recent past, the almost innocent affair with Mulder had come to an end unfortunately, and never again, no matter what happened, would they ever know that pure untainted joy in each other. For good or ill, any relationship they would have in the future (be it working, friendly, or even – he dared hope – romantic) would be tainted by their past.

But it was, in a way, a relief. No more deceiving Mulder and wondering what would happen when Mulder found out. He’d known Mulder wouldn’t be freaked out by his alien transformation. To a man like Mulder something like this was quite an everyday occurrence. What Krycek had worried about was whether or not his evidence had softened Mulder’s perceptions enough so that he wouldn’t be beaten up again. And that hadn’t (quite) happened. Mulder had been quite reasonable, making Krycek wonder why he’d made his bathroom-window escape. Panic? Stupidity? Conditioned reflex? He’d been running away so long now he just didn’t know how else to react to a situation. When the going gets tough, the Krycek takes flight. Krycek couldn’t tell why he did half the things he did anymore.

Right now though, he was, surprisingly, content. He was still a little high from performing, from being loved by all those people. He’d had a chance to say good bye to his friends, and Mulder had performed cunnilingus on him earlier that day – ooo that had been nice. His cock throbbed a little in memory. That had almost made being a woman worthwhile. Mmmmm… Mulder’s tongue… nearly as impressive as Mulder’s cock! Alex shivered a little at the memory, pleasant chills making his thighs press together. Abruptly he brought his scattered wits back to the present.

This was it, his last night free. He had no illusions that if he threw in his lot with Mulder he’d ever walk away free again. In fact, if he left this fight alive it would be a miracle. He told himself that he accepted his probable death, as long as he could also see some hope of retribution. If his death would bring some atonement for the things he’d done, there would be some peace in that. But he wouldn’t go quietly. And he wasn’t going to run like a rat in a maze anymore.

He didn’t know exactly what he wanted, apart from Mulder, and he didn’t know if he really wanted Mulder or if those feelings were nothing more than implanted desires – but he did know what he didn’t want. He didn’t want to live without hope anymore. And if he was going to live with the threat of death, then it was going to be on his terms. If would be nice to lie down and rest for a little while, to get away from all the myriad conflicting thoughts and feelings, like normal people… nah, he’d be bored to death in less than a month!

He had nothing to lose, he could walk away, stay hidden, run. Live off the charity of friends, until they were all killed, one by one, or until he was killed, or killed himself – or someone else. Or he could go back to Mulder; fight, and die with some pride. He had given up on honour, that had been the first payment he’d made to the Consortium.

Krycek closed his eyes for a little while, feeling the slight cooling of the night air, listening to the ‘going to bed’ noises of the family on whose home he was presently perched. No more outdoors, no more staring at the skies wondering what lived up there – he knew, and he didn’t like them anymore. He’d met ET, more than once, and taken a personal dislike to him.

Mulder lay on the sofa, the humour value of Batdude and Throbbin’ was starting to wear thin after the seventeenth viewing, and he was getting greater entertainment from watching the light patterns on the ceiling than from his favourite gay porno movie.

His ego still burned from Skinner’s abusive tirade, but he wished his boss was still there when the buzzer rang. I knew it.

He didn’t bother to check who it was, just buzzed the entrance, and stood in the doorway to his apartment until his troublesome guest arrived.

Krycek didn’t look nervous, but he had the sense not to look too cocky either. As Krycek slipped past him, Mulder couldn’t resist a nanny whack ‘round the head and Krycek skipped slightly to avoid a follow up cuff.

"Mulder..."

"Shut up," It was late, he was tired, he’d had enough. Mulder put his hand between Krycek’s shoulder blades and pushed him into the bedroom. "Take the vest off."

Krycek grinned, and hastened to comply, but Mulder disappointed him by snapping the chain and cuffs around his left wrist again, far tighter this time, so Krycek couldn’t slide out of it so easily, and locking him to the bed head. It didn’t matter that Krycek had come back of his own volition, Mulder wasn’t going to get any sleep with him wandering around free. "Get some sleep," and he snapped the lights, leaving Krycek to awkwardly shuck his jeans one handed and get to bed.

Krycek called out again: Czechoslovakian? Mulder wondered. Wasn’t Krycek supposed to be half Irish, half Czech or something? Although his files didn’t mention him being bilingual. Then something in English, "Don’t touch me again, Mulder!" Interesting... very interesting...

Mulder sat up and switched off the volume on the television. No more words for a while, but Krycek was thrashing, the chain on his arm rattled. Mulder heaved himself into the kitchenette, scratching his butt and stretching his back. The coffee was cold, but fresh milk heated on the stove and flavoured with day old caffeine made a... rather disgusting beverage. It was something to do while he listened. Maybe Krycek would let something slip in these nocturnal mutterings. Mulder squashed the hope Krycek wouldn’t say anything to incriminate himself, even as he recognised he had totally lost all impartiality on this case.

Suddenly Krycek screamed, a sound of total desolation and horror, and Mulder moved swiftly to the door. He put his hand on the switch, but didn’t flick on the light. Krycek was quieter now: his breath coming in soft gasps, his body tangled in the bedding.

Mulder leaned against the doorway, listening to Krycek’s mutterings, occasionally making out a word here and there amongst the gibberish.

Krycek’s eyes were slitted open, Mulder could see the moist gleam in the faint light from the other room. Thinking the young man had finally woken, Mulder was about to speak when Krycek suddenly went taut with tension, all his muscles bunching into knots, as he wrenched himself off the bed and shot to the other side of the room. His sudden flight was halted loudly by the wall, against which he impacted bodily, then slid down to huddle against the video shelf unit, almost knocking it over as he tried to get under it.

Mulder starred incredulously at the spot where the chain had been attached: Krycek had simply ripped the entire apparatus from the wall in his panic to escape whatever demons pursued his unconscious.

Mulder got down onto his hands and knees; making himself smaller, less threatening, and crawled to where Krycek was hunched against the wall.

Keeping his voice low and soothing, "Alex?" again he deliberately used the other man’s first name.

"I’m awake!" Alex snapped the obvious as if accused of some heinous crime.

"Yeah." Mulder considered saying something like ‘It’s all okay, it was just a dream,’ but couldn’t really imagine saying something that childish to this man.

Krycek was still gasping slightly, holding his body in an awkward manner, and Mulder realised he was starting to shiver. It wasn’t that cold.

"What were you dreaming?"

"Uh..." Krycek’s eyes were still a little wild, but he made some effort to shrug dismissively, "When I was in the silo, I started... having... dreams. I guess it was delirium, brought on by thirst."

Mulder made a mental note to find out more about this. He’d had his suspicions Krycek had been left behind in the silo, but couldn’t believe it for sure, and if he had, how had Krycek escaped?

"I guess that hasn’t stopped, huh?" Krycek smiled shakily.

"What was it tonight? You mentioned my name."

"I uh... I dreamt that I had contacted you, to give you information or for protection or whatever, and you and Skinner were... pretty aggressive. Which wouldn’t have surprised me I guess."

"Well, Alex, I will admit there have been times when I’ve wanted to beat you to a pulp, and times I’ve tried," Mulder said honestly, "But I can’t see Skinner doing anything like that. He wouldn’t let Scully go for revenge on Luis Cardinal, I doubt he’s the type of man who’d hit a prisoner."

"Yeah, well, maybe." And again Mulder got the impression there was something he wasn’t being told about Skinner and Krycek’s relationship.

"You cried out at one point, you told me not to touch you. Do you remember why? Does it bother you when I touch you?" Mulder tested the waters of their sexual relationship, quite willing to continue even though their circumstances had changed.

"No," Alex hastened to answer, "Not at all. It’s just that... um..."

"I was violent?"

"Uh huh."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully, "And then?"

"Oh... you know, just... stuff."

"You screamed at one point?"

"I did?" Alex was hedging.

"Yes, why?"

"I... some men. I dreamt they were holding me down. They, uh, cut my arm off."

Mulder grimaced slightly, how grotesque. He noticed Krycek was holding his left arm rather stiffly, and he worried Krycek may have injured himself with his violent release from the cuffs, "That may have been caused by your being chained. Perhaps you twisted and cut the circulation off, that could have been your brain telling you to do something about it." He reached over and rubbed the arm in question. The flesh was freezing to the touch, in direct contrast to the furnace-like heat coming off the rest of him.

Mulder pulled Krycek towards himself, getting him out of the almost foetal ball he’d pulled into, rubbing some life back into the arm.

"You were talking gibberish, sounded like a foreign language," he pressed.

"Russian."

"You speak Russian?"

"Nyet," Krycek grinned, seemed he was getting himself under control again. "The limit of my Russian is from old spy movies. Da, Nyet, Comrade, Tovarich, Dostoyevsky. I know more German from Hogan’s Heroes than I do Russian. Don’t know what I was saying, although it all made perfect sense at the time. All that running around, was kinda like being in an extremely violent Laurel & Hardy movie, with oiliens added to the mix." Krycek was trying to make light of the whole business, although it was forced. He looked up at Mulder, his voice pleading suddenly, "Do you think... I mean... I wonder what they planted in my head for sick things like this to bubble up from my subconscious – what’s wrong with me that I should think such sick things?"

"Sounds like an ordinary dream to me," Mulder dismissed it, after all, at least Krycek wasn’t being chased by Darth Vader in that damned pink negligee.

"Come on, back to bed." He hauled Krycek to his feet, "Do you really think I’d hit you?"

"Sure, why not. You’ve done it before."

"Yeah, but I had reason."

"Well, hey, have I ever held it against you?" That furtive smile was back, and Mulder had the sneaking suspicion Krycek was trying to manipulate him in some way he couldn’t put his finger on.

"Lie down."

Krycek obeyed, moving stiffly. His skin had the stale cold smell of fear about it. "Don’t chain me up again, okay?"

"Okay." Not that there was much point if Krycek was going to rip the chain out of the wall, but it seemed a bit unfair right now.

Mulder went into the bathroom, and rummaged through the cupboards ‘til he found a bottle of baby oil. It had leaked, and Mulder made a mental note to clean it up some decade. He went back to stand over Krycek, wide awake emerald eyes stared up at him; looked like neither of them would be sleeping again any time soon. He poured a little of the oil into his hands.

"What’re you doing?" Krycek asked, sounding not at all worried.

"Going to rub some life into your amputated limb," Mulder smiled, and sitting on the bed next to Krycek proceeded to do just that. He took freezing fingers between his own, using the palms of his hands to warm them. Nice hands, Mulder thought, rather delicate on Krycek’s frame. As the warmth returned, he moved up the wrist, the forearm, brushing back the fine dark hair, feeling the pulse of life under his hands. He rubbed up over bicep, and shoulder, keeping the touch firm and gentle, until all circulation and feeling was restored in the limb.

"Feel good?" he asked, using his best comforting smile.

Krycek nodded, his eyes closing, and Mulder moved on, rubbing the tension from his shoulders and neck with firm pressure from his thumbs, gentle strokes from the palms of his hands. Krycek stretched, arching his back slightly as he pushed into large hands that pressed into his rigid muscles.

Mulder continued on, as his touch was obviously still welcome, massaging Krycek’s chest; around the curve of pectoral muscle, feeling tiny pink nipples stir and pucker under his palms. The tension in Krycek’s stomach eased as his ministrations moved down, but his excitement mounted, Mulder noted with a satisfied smirk. He was receiving little moist taps on the forearm every time his hands moved down towards Krycek’s pelvis. So, I can arouse you, both male and female. Your sexuality doesn’t change, just your sex...

Then he turned, grabbed some more oil, and started on Krycek’s feet, careful not to tickle. Krycek poppled under his breath, quietly bitching in disappointment, until the murmurs soothed into pleasured sighs. Nice feet, Mulder thought, Almost as big as my own, but better shaped, he thought enviously. He shifted to long strokes up and down Krycek’s shins. Krycek’s legs were heavier than his own, solid with muscle, probably from being on the move all the time. He’d gained quite a few pounds since they’d been partners, mostly muscle, and not the type to come from working out in a gym.

Krycek’s thighs opened, and his pelvis lifted as Mulder made his way up the soft flesh of inner thigh. Smooth pale skin, like satin to the touch, becoming soft and pliable as the last of the tension left Krycek’s body, forgotten along with the ridiculous dream.

Mulder slipped one bent leg beneath Krycek’s thighs, lifting them slightly as he knelt beside him, the other foot on the floor. He poured a third helping of oil, directly onto Krycek’s body this time. Dribbling it around his belly, his balls, down his inner thighs. He cupped Krycek’s balls in one hand, delicately manipulating them, using his thumb to move them around in their soft textured sack, enjoying the feel of them moving, drawing up against his palm. Mulder paused to wipe the oil from one hand before he touched Krycek’s erection, not wanting anything other than natural lubrication at this time.

Krycek moaned, quite a different sound to those he had been making earlier, and ‘ah’ed softly as Mulder clasped his shaft, stroking from base to tip, releasing the pressure, then repeating the rhythm. Krycek’s hips started to move in sync with Mulder’s strokes; it had been a long time since Mulder had had another man’s cock in his hands, and he was quietly glad he practised so much on himself! He bent over, kissing the spongy head, feeling the tart burn of a bubble of precum against his lips. He started a series of wet slurping kisses all down the underside of the vulnerable cock concentrating on the ultra sensitive spot just below the crown. His sucking noises were loud in the quiet room, and he ran his tongue hard down the pumping veins, working on making Krycek as vocal as possible as well. He’d loved Sandy’s vocal fucking style, now he wanted to hear a man’s sexual cries.

So, you Czechs don’t get cut, huh, he thought, feeling the foreskin cuddle his tongue as he forced it between skin and cock, used his lips to push it back, away from the darkening head. Good thing, who knows how that would have affected you when you change into a woman, what would you have been missing? Krycek twisted his upper body up off the bed, his face contorted, gurgling as Mulder’s tongue tip forced itself into the slit. Mulder had to use his full weight on Krycek’s stomach now, to hold him in place, as he sawed his tongue through the glans, putting hot wet friction onto the tiny tiny hole there. Strong flicks of his tongue from crown to base, pressing hard down the throbbing underside of Krycek’s cock had the man writhing helplessly, almost yelping in surprised pleasure.

How long has it been since you’ve had a decent blow job, Krycek? Mulder thought, Probably as long as it’s been since I’ve given one. His own excitement was mounting, becoming more urgent, as he slowly swallowed Krycek’s cock, inch by solid inch.

He took a deep breath, then started to bob his head up and down, taking that cock deep into his throat. It took a while to get his breathing cadence organised to avoid letting Krycek’s abortive thrusts cut off his oxygen, but they slowly got the rhythm working, and Mulder let Krycek’s cock slide down as far as he could, before freezing, swallowing so that the muscles in his throat contracted around the head and rippled, his face buried between Krycek’s thighs. He kept swallowing, not moving, inhaling Krycek’s unique sweet sharp smell: leather and... tangerines.

Krycek’s trembling hands rested against his cheeks, and Mulder could tell he was desperately trying to hold back from pushing Mulder’s head down, too polite to force Mulder to move. Mulder just waited, manipulating the testes in his hand – they were moist from his own drool, and soooo close right now. He continued to wait, his tongue never stopping, over and around, pushing against the heated shaft, until Krycek’s squeaks and cries bordered on the distressed – before pulling off, his lips pressed tight and hard, tiny indentation of teeth, then forcing down again. He slipped one finger into Krycek’s anus, moist with sweat, pressing in just one knuckle, rotating and pressing delicately. Over and over he lunged on Krycek’s cock, taking it deeply, until Krycek finally came, his whole body contracting violently with the force of the climax, snapping up, bending around Mulder’s head in a rictus of ecstasy.

Krycek made some kind of sobbing nonsense noise, sounding somewhat like ‘ffffffpshaw’, as he came, and Mulder swallowed the noise, and the cum, deeply. The shots hit the back of his palate, hot, sticky, coating his throat, and he drank greedily. He kept swallowing, sucking the last of the juice from Krycek’s balls, then slowed down, suckling more carefully, as Krycek became over sensitised, his soft ‘ah’ letting Mulder know he’d had enough.

He petted Krycek’s now soft cock back into place, withdrew his finger carefully. Krycek looked wrecked, his skin flushed and sweaty, lips parted, hair standing on end in places.

"Good?"

"Ungle."

"I’ll take that as a yes."

Mulder savoured the tiny drops of cream on his tongue, and traced finger tip patterns across Krycek’s abdomen, waiting for him to get his breath back. Krycek looked at him, eyes, face, soft, replete, mouth slightly open, panting gently. Gentle fingers traced Mulder’s thigh, plucked at the fabric of his sweat pants. "You want?" he asked simply.

"Roll over."

"Okay."

"I mean, roll over, I’ll continue the massage."

"Okay to that too."

Mulder stood up, shucked his pants and T shirt, then straddled Krycek’s hips, settling on his thighs, letting his balls rest just on the crack of his ass.

Krycek’s skin drank up the oil Mulder poured across his shoulders, glistened as Mulder trickled it down his spine, between his buttocks. Soothing, hard, gun callused hands pushed into Krycek’s back, although there was no more lingering tension. The flesh under Mulder’s hands was pliant and yielding, and Krycek almost swayed in post-coital bliss with the gentle rhythm of the massage as it continued down his backbone, up and down his sides, around his waist.

"Mmmm," Krycek vocalised his pleasure, low and deep.

"Your skin is so pale," Mulder mused, his hands kneading Krycek’s buttocks. "So silky... soft..."

Krycek’s hips stirred as Mulder’s thumbs smoothed oil between his buttocks, lifting slightly. And that was all the permission Mulder was waiting for. Two oily fingers smoothed up and down the crack, the tip of a finger pressed even more oil into the tiny pink bud hidden there.

It had been too many years since Mulder had had real live human flesh under his hands, he decided, as he bent to place loud smacking kisses down Krycek’s spine. Kissing and caressing the nemesis of his recent past felt way too good to be normal. He wondered at his ease… no, eagerness to recommence a sexual relationship with Krycek, now that he knew who he had been fucking. But he’d always wanted this body, he’d already had this person. If he could use sex to get what he wanted from Krycek, he wasn’t above doing so. The idea of being a modern data Mata Hari gave him an undeniable ego boost. The idea of controlling and dominating Krycek gave him a very heady thrill.

He slipped one finger into Krycek’s body, slowly circling ‘til Krycek’s hips started to follow the motion, withdrew that finger, crossed the first over the middle finger, entered and started again. He opened those fingers, and started a scissoring motion to gently relax and open the tight muscle. He knew Krycek was no virgin to this type of intercourse, that had been revealed in those interminable interviews, but he felt like it. Has it been many years for you too, Krycek? After they started working on you, did you stop having sex with anyone else, waiting for me? I guess this must be a dream come true for you!

He found and massaged the small bump of Krycek’s prostate with solid delicate circles and was rewarded with soft sobbing moans. Are you turning on again? Can you do that so soon, Krycek?

Krycek was making no move to touch himself, so Mulder wondered if he was over sensitised from his orgasm, but there were certainly no protests at Mulder’s attentions. Mulder kept up the internal massage, pushing down to stimulate the hidden gland, circling and rubbing to loosen up any resistance. Krycek’s hips were following every move of those fingers, or as much as they could imprisoned between Mulder’s thighs, and Mulder kept up the motion, a third finger joining the first two, Krycek’s breathless gasps breaking now and then into soft moans. Mulder grabbed his own balls, pulling down gently; the small pain brought the edge off his own sexual tension. He wasn’t going ahead until...

There.

There it was. Krycek’s hand slipped down and under his own body, and Mulder smirked at the tell-tale motions. He’s ready now.

Mulder eased forward, placing the head of his penis against the relaxed opening, and slowly pushed forward. Having his knees on the outside of Krycek’s body he would be unable to make a very deep penetration. Although Krycek hadn’t, unlike some of Mulder’s other partners, complained about Mulder’s more than generous size, with the atmosphere of trust Mulder was trying to create between them, he didn’t want Krycek to be in any discomfort whatsoever. Keeping it reasonably shallow and comfortable would be the best thing for both of them.

He kept pushing steadily. Slowly and carefully oozing forward, until Krycek pushed back, and the first barrier was breached. Mulder wanted to stop there, give them both time to adjust, but Krycek was pushing back, tiny whimpering noises of frustration escaping his throat, so Mulder pushed forward another inch or two. He closed his eyes, head falling forward. Krycek was so very tight here. Tight and hot, moist greedy flesh sucking hungrily at his body. He rocked his hips just a little, just one tiny little thrust before bending forward and noisily kissing Krycek’s back again.

Freckles. Mulder was surprised to see the faint spattering of freckles across Krycek’s shoulders, he hadn’t noticed those before, and he focussed on them, trying to distract himself with intimate trivialities, stop the urge to go faster. To force himself into this oh so willing flesh.

Another inch. Another two. Starting to rock back and forth. Krycek’s hips circled in their own rhythm, and finally Mulder used those motions to press in as far as possible. His balls rested comfortably in the gentle dip between buttocks and thighs, he could feel the trickle of sweat between his legs as their bodies burned against each other.

Even with both hands now masturbating himself, Krycek’s movements were limited, having the full weight of Mulder’s body pinning him down, but Mulder allowed Krycek’s undulations to be the main movement between them, letting Krycek set the pace. He was so close now, after all this time, it wasn’t going to take much anyway.

He’d had some surreptitious fantasies about this ass, way back when they’d been partners... even more intense than his fantasies about Scully. Krycek had seemed then so much more approachable and available, so naive and sweet, lush and ripe and fuckable. But this muscular, lascivious reality was consuming him with fire, so much hotter, so much better than any fantasy.

Mulder’s last rabbit like thrusts pummelled the other man’s flesh, until he froze, shooting his seed deep into Krycek’s body. He fell forward, hands either side of Krycek’s shoulders, lowering his weight onto the still heaving body underneath him.

"Don’t withdraw..." Krycek pleaded, and Mulder relaxed, still enjoying the final twinges of his orgasm as Krycek jerked himself to his second climax. Krycek’s body spasmed around his penis, forcing the final drops of cum out of Mulder’s shaft, and finally Krycek also lay still, breathing heavily into the pillows, softly weeping and laughing, sounding both joyful and relieved.