image by Rike
I stroke the damp skin at the back of his neck, fingers crawling up into his hair. He really does need to grow it out. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering his face that just makes me want to lick him. The ache in my belly turns into a persistent throb and I tighten my thighs around his leg. My movement doesn't go unnoticed.
"Something bothering you, Dana?" I can hear the amusement in his voice. He glides his fingers up my leg, catching the hem of the dress and dragging it up. "Something you . . . need?"
Need. Want. There's no difference at his point. I want him to touch me. I need him to before I spontaneously combust and turn into an X-File. I arch my hips off the bed so he can pull the dress up farther, fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps on my sensitive stomach. Soon I'm laying there in only my underwear, and Alex tugs on my arm until my back is spooned up against his chest. He nuzzles into my hair and places gentle kisses on my neck. I wriggle against him, impatient for more stimulation. He chuckles and shows no sign of obliging me. Goddammit. He's the last person I expect to want to cuddle. And right now, cuddling is the last thing I want. Need.
"I want you to show me," he whispers, lips brushing against my earlobe.
It's pretty much all showing. I'm only wearing a thong, after all. I start to turn so I can ask what the hell he's talking about, but his arms tighten around me. He takes my hand in his and slides it over my stomach, teasing at the edge of my underwear.
"I want you to show me what--" His voice cracks, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. "What you did on the phone. In the bathtub."
Somewhere in the back of my brain, a tiny voice urges me to mime scrubbing my back and washing my hair, but it's drowned out by the throaty husk of Alex.
"You were so hot. I wanted to jump through the phone to get to you."
Together, our fingers slide between my legs and I whimper at the friction I've been denied so long. I lift my leg back and slide it over his, opening myself to questing fingers. I'm kind of hoping he'll just take the lead, but he holds back, only following the movements of my own hand. I let my nails scratch over the wet fabric, biting my lip in an effort to stop crying out. A high whine comes out instead.
"I thought my head was going to explode when I realized you were in the bathtub, listening to my voice. Touching yourself."
I think my head's going to explode right now. Two sets of fingers slide under the edge of my panties, teasing lightly. But I can't take it anymore. I move my hand and press down on my clit, jerking like I've been hit by lightning. My fingers slide down and in, and I feel that wonderful stretch because his thick finger is right there with mine, gliding in and out.
"God." He sounds awestruck, like maybe God is actually standing beside the bed looking at us. I can't find the presence of mind to open my eyes. At the moment, I don't care. If I'm going to hell for this, well, I'm going there a satisfied woman. "You're so wet," he says, burying his nose against my neck.
I groan, feeling the growing hardness nudging my ass. Before he can even react, I pull my hand away and press it over his, pushing his finger inside me as far as it will go. My mouth falls open soundlessly. God, that's just one finger.
"Dana," he warns playfully, beginning to pull away. I clamp my hand over his. The two most fierce creatures in the world are a mother protecting her young, and a horny woman. He doesn't stand a chance.
"Nuh-uh," I groan, praying he'll get the message. When I'm confident that he won't try to pull away again, I reach behind and wrap my arm around his neck. He slides two fingers in me and keeps a steady pace, just fast enough to drive me crazy, just slow enough to keep me that way. I grind my ass into his groin and feel him swell further. He's ready, and I'm ready, so why aren't we screwing?
"Easy, Dana. I'm not eighteen anymore."
Bastard. Seems he's content to drive me out of my mind. Maybe if I provoke him . . .
"Mulder would have had it up by now." There. That should work. He'll have to prove his manhood by flipping us over and burying himself between my legs. My entire body is vibrating in anticipation.
"No. He wouldn't," he says, with the air of authority of someone who knows. A helpless shudder tears through my body. Shit. That just completely backfired. Mulder and Krycek together. Krycek and Mulder. Alex and Fox. Now I'm more desperate than ever. Either the gods or Alex decide to take mercy on me because he angles his torso away from me and I feel him pressing against my entrance. What the hell is he waiting for?
"I'm clean, Dana," he rasps. Oh God. I wasn't even thinking about that. I start to nod furiously, about to tell him that I'm clean too, but my breath catches as he pushes inside with one powerful thrust. He's stretched me so far that I can almost taste him. His hand tightens on my hip as he slowly slides out, then all the way back in. It feels so good I could almost cry. He didn't even bother to ask about me. The idea that Alex trusts me is more terrifying than the fact that we're having sex.
Someone's letting out a loud continuous moan, and it takes a second to realize that it's me. I've lost complete control and all I can do is clutch the bedspread with one hand and his side with the other. My nails are probably cutting into his skin, leaving red welts and angry scratches. I slam my hips back against him and he moans helplessly in my ear, erratic pants gaining in volume. The slide of his sweaty skin along mine, hot breath against my neck, the delicious sensation of being filled--stretched--so completely is about to drive me out of my mind. And it's not enough. I try to form my thoughts into coherent words.
"More," I gasp. "More . . ."
It's all I can manage, but he seems to read my thoughts. The thong is suddenly flying across the room, and with a gigantic shove, we're both on our knees. His arms around me are the only thing keeping me upright when my thigh muscles quiver and threaten to give out. We're still for a second, and I can feel the length of him pulsing inside me. I contract my vaginal muscles and he growls into my hair. I do it again to see what happens and his hand slides down my belly to flick my clit. I yelp in surprise and pleasure.
"Up against the wall, Agent Scully. Assume the position." He sounds dangerous, almost feral. I shiver and move to comply.
Without breaking the connection between our bodies, we fumble to the wall at the head of my bed. I brace both hands on the wall and spread my thighs as far as they will go. His hips begin to move immediately. My groan echoes his at the new angle. His cock scrapes against my pubic bone with each thrust and I can already feel the fiery tingling begin in my belly.
"Oooooh God," I cry, throwing back my head. Alex bites the side of my neck and I reach back to twine my fingers through his hair. The sound of his hips slapping against my ass fills the room along with my keening and his harsh groans. I lose myself in the pleasure of his body, and it's almost as if I'm floating somewhere beyond my bed. I can see the smooth thrust of his hips, the clenching of his ass as he pistons into my welcoming body. God he's gorgeous. Clutching my hip, sliding up to tug on a sensitive nipple. I see myself, eyes rolled back, mouth gaping, using the wall for leverage as I slam back on his cock. Then the strangest thing happens. My limbs lengthen, thicken with muscle, red hair turns brown, features enlarge . . .
And suddenly it's Mulder I see, Mulder braced against my bedroom wall while Alex fucks him into oblivion.
The blinding force of my orgasm brings me back as it rips through my body, leaving no nerve ending untouched. Alex gasps into my ear and stiffens as his cocks swells, pumping hot semen into my swollen channel. This time I can't stop the trembling in my thighs as I collapse against the wall, twitching with aftershocks. I give a forlorn sound as Alex slips from me, falling back to the bed. I don't know how long we stay like that--I seem to have lost all use of my higher brain functions. I hurt in the best way possible, and I just want to catch my breath so that we can do it again.
I press my flushed cheek against the wall and catch his eye. "I think I just had an out of body experience," I blurt, not even bothering to be embarrassed.
His eyes slowly focus on my face--he looks as dazed as I feel. Finally the corners of his mouth turn up, his lips part, and I'm given a megawatt smile. It reaches all the way to the depths of his green eyes, making them shine with something that I've never seen on his face before. Moments pass before the emotion registers. Happiness. I've made Alex Krycek happy.
"That about sums it up," he says hoarsely, referring to my previous comment. He thinks I'm joking. I wonder what would happen if I told him I was serious. Something tells me not to mention Mulder. After all, he made it clear that Mulder was just 'a job'. He never really felt anything for my partner. Is that what this is? A job? Has he seduced me in order to get something? I shut my eyes. Don't be stupid, Dana. You're the one who practically jumped him in the interrogation room--you started it. What if he was just taking advantage of the opening? The thought doesn't worry me as much as it should. Probably has something to do with the post-orgasmic haze that's filtering through my eyelids.
Callused fingertips begin a lazy journey up the outside of my thigh. I shiver at his touch and peel myself away from the wall. He grasps my hand and pulls me down beside him. I wonder what's going to happen now. Is he going to be one of those guys that immediately falls asleep? Or is he going to want to cuddle and make out until he's ready to go again? Personally, I'm all for that. Or he could be the type of guy who actually wants to talk after sex. They do exist--so I've been told.
He must be able to hear the gears churning, because he mumbles into my hair, "You think too much."
"It's to make up for the times when my brain stops functioning completely," I joke. And there's been quite a few of those lately. In the silence that follows I realize that he's become tense against me, arms circling lightly, like he's afraid to touch me. Something is wrong. I look up and wait for him meet my gaze. The doubt that's pooled in his beautiful green eyes completely blows me away. Where is the cocky, overconfident bastard known as Krycek? After what just happened between us, I thought he'd be pretty smug. But I'm waaaaay out of my league here. When Mulder needs comforting, all I have to do is smile and hold his hand and tell him I'm there for him. With anyone else . . . well, there's a reason I'm a pathologist and not a family doctor.
I walk my fingers slowly up his chest. God, I want him again, with an intensity that frightens me. "You know, you didn't have to go to all that trouble. With your clothes, and the dress, and some date." No seduction was necessary. *That* happened in an interrogation room in some backwoods New Mexico police station.
He pulls away and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Oops. Strike one for me.
"It wasn't just 'some date'," he mutters.
Okay, so it was obviously important, and I'd ruined, and then belittled his plan. Go Dana. I reach out, but pull my hand back at the last second. If he were to pull away again, I think I might get insulted.
"Well . . . we could still go," I suggest.
He shakes his head. "No. We missed the reservation."
Reservation? "You were taking me out for dinner?"
He looks at me over his shoulder. "Dinner and dancing."
Wow. Seems like he's gone to a lot of trouble. Which leads me to my next question. "Why?"
It's a long time before he answers. "Because you deserve so much more than this," he says, indicating the mussed bed.
I can't help but grin. "I don't think I could survive much more than this." He gives me a shy smile, which I think is the cutest thing I've ever seen. Moving slowly, I press myself along his back and slide my hands down over his chest. His earlobe is so close to my mouth, I can't resist. I nip at it gently.
He turns his head and catches my lips in a fiery kiss that almost has me coming again. God, he really doesn't do anything halfway, does he? Suddenly he begins pulling away and I struggle to follow him to his feet, not content to let him go. Maybe I'll call in sick to work tomorrow, and we can stay in bed all day. He's half hard and growing against my belly. Nice.
I wrap my arms around his waist and press our hips together. "You know, it's probably better that we don't go out anyway. Wouldn't want to get spotted." It's true. If we went out and someone recognized him, it would completely ruin the date. Not to mention I'd probably get in a bit of trouble. **Explain your actions, Agent Scully. Sir, I was trying to lull the suspect into a false sense of security by humping his leg and trying to suck his brain out through his mouth. Very good, Agent Scully. You deserve a commendation.** Yeah, right.
"Yeah, wouldn't want to be seen with me."
This time it's me that pulls away, but only enough so that I can look up at him. "I didn't mean it that way."
"I should go."
