Characters and situations are the property of Cris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and no infringement is intended. All other contents are copyrighted to the author. Rated NC-17 for graphic sex.
BLUE RIDGE REQUIEM
by Cody Nelson
Mulder sat crushed against the car door, fingers digging into his thighs, watching the trees zoom past out the window, listening to his heart beat. He'd past the point of sleepiness and was now existing in that stretched, thready, caffeine-fueled place beyond exhaustion and approaching amphetamine rush. The image of Scully, mouth gagged and eyes wide, peering from the trunk of her car, loomed in his vision, threatening to make his thoughts go red.
"Alex, pull over."
His partner gave him an irritated glance, and continued to drive, smooth and steady, down the county road towards Skyland Mountain, Duane Barry, and Scully.
"Alex, pull over," Mulder repeated. "Let me drive. I need to drive."
With an exasperated noise, Krycek lifted his foot from the accelerator and began to steer the car to the side of the road. He didn't look at Mulder.
"Look, it's not that. . . ." Mulder swallowed and began again. "I have to feel like I'm doing something. Even if it's only driving."
Krycek brought the car to a stop. A culvert ran alongside the road, and beyond that, the a scrubby brushland dipped and rose, thickly dotted with trees. Krycek switched off the engine and stared at Mulder. His face was strained and unhappy. Dark thoughts swirled behind large, round eyes, dark and deep as polished jade.
Mulder swallowed. "Alex. . . ."
"It's all right, Mulder. I understand." His voice was low and rough as nubby silk. Mulder flinched from it, although he didn't know why.
Krycek nodded once, then got out of the car. But instead of coming around to the passenger side, he leapt across the culvert and strode off into the woods. It was an oddly graceful move, for an awkward plebe in a cheap suit. Mulder tilted his head and watched until Krycek disappeared into a stand of trees. =He's just gone to take a leak,= Mulder thought, although he felt strangely as though Krycek had just turned back into some sort of woodland faun and trotted off to Elfland.
Mulder opened his door, pausing to grab the keys from the ignition, and went in search of his faun. =Not a bad idea,= he told himself as he jumped the culvert and followed Krycek's trail. He must have a gallon of coffee in him, and there was still a long way to go.
Krycek was just zipping up his trousers when Mulder reached him. A slight twinge of disappointment hit him, which made his face go red. Just natural locker-room curiosity, he told himself. Krycek was so private. And those awful suits -- one had to wonder what was underneath them.
Krycek stared at him. His own face was a delicate shade of pink. "Get your own tree, Mulder," he muttered.
"Sorry." But Mulder couldn't help grinning. And the sudden memory of why he shouldn't be grinning hit him like a roundhouse punch to the stomach. =Scully.=
Krycek watched his face crumple, with a thoughtful frown. He took half a step toward Mulder, then stopped. "We'll find her," he said. But there was a tentative note in his voice.
"Yeah," Mulder said roughly. "We will." He turned to go back to the car.
Mulder stoppped and turned back, waiting.
He hated the way Krycek's eyes got so huge when he was troubled about something. Well, of course he didn't hate it. But he hated it now, when he didn't want to think about Krycek's trouble, he only wanted to think about his own. He didn't want to think about huge green eyes, framed with luxurious kohl-dark lashes. He wanted to think about blue eyes. Eyes peering frightened out of the trunk of a car.
Krycek took two steps towards him and stopped, just a few feet away. Eyes as big as saucers, level with his own. "Mulder, what if . . . what if we don't get her back?"
Mulder's hand was at Krycek's throat before he had time to think. A spark of fear lit those huge green eyes. Mulder gave him a shake for emphasis, then let him go. "We have to get her back. =I= have to get her back."
Krycek took a deep breath and swallowed, running his hand through his hair. Mulder suppressed the urge to snatch him into a headlock and scrub his hair into knots.
"Yeah, sure, I know, it's just that --" Krycek looked away, and his voice dropped to a throaty murmur. "I've been a good partner for you, haven't I?"
Mulder groaned, hand to his forehead. =Not now, Krycek, for god's sake, not now. . . .=
"Never mind, Mulder, let's get going." Krycek strode off toward the car, staring at the ground at his feet.
Mulder caught him by the arm as he passed. "Wait."
Krycek stopped. Eyes only inches away now. Big as wells, as deep and dangerous. Green as the ocean, as treacherous currents. "I don't want to hurt you, Mulder."
Mulder's heart pounded. Why did it frighten him to hear Krycek say that? "Help me get Scully back."
"I . . . I'll do what I can."
"You have to help me!" He'd grabbed Krycek by both arms, and was shaking him again.
Krycek stood solid as a rock, absorbing the force of Mulder's assault like a man of marble. After a moment, he took Mulder by the biceps and pulled him close, holding him still, leaning in to speak softly into Mulder's ear. "I'll do what I can."
Mulder could feel the heat of Krycek's breath on his cheek. The strength of Krycek's hands gripping his arms. The faint smell of soap and hair oil. A pulse of need ran crazily through his body, shocking his nerve endings and burning in his instantly rock-hard cock. Before he had time to think that it was just stress and adrenaline and thirty-four hours without sleep, his mouth was on Krycek's, hard and hot and desperate.
The second shock, after the mere fact that he'd done such a thing, was that Krycek did not push him away. Gripping Mulder's arms, holding him still a few inches away, Krycek stood and kissed him back. He kissed like a god. His tongue met Mulder's, exploring his mouth, sending his mind spinning, until his knees turned to water, and all that was holding him up was the hard grasp of Krycek's hands on his arms.
Mulder staggered back when Krycek released him. His back came up against a tree, which was fortunate, as he was likely to have fallen otherwise. Krycek stood before him, eyes wild, lips parted and reddened, breath coming in short gasps. He was beautiful; god, how could Mulder have never noticed before? Exquisitely beautiful -- and no matter what else happened today, Mulder was going to have him. He leaned forward, already sinking to his knees.
But Krycek stopped him, with hands on upper arms already forming bruises where strong fingers had gripped. "Let me do this, Mulder." He pushed Mulder back against the tree, and sank down, hands moving down Mulder's arms to his waist, holding him firmly, until he was sitting on his heels, balanced on the balls of his feet. Once again, Mulder was struck by how gracefully he moved. A beautiful faun, crouched at Mulder's feet, hands carefully working at the buckle of Mulder's belt, while his parted lips promised undreamed-of pleasures.
Mulder took a deep, shuddering breath, and let his head fall back against the tree, his hair catching in the rough bark. He moved his feet farther apart, planting himself firmly on the ground. A twig dug into his back. Skillful hands unbuttoned his trousers, and parted his zipper. Mulder sighed, almost laughed, almost sobbed. His hands found Krycek's hair, and dug into the damp strands with joyful satisfaction. Then he felt the strong fingers on the cotton of his briefs, and he let himself look down at the dark head, mouth tantalizing inches from his burning cock. He watched, with mesmerized fascination, as Krycek's hands pulled his briefs down, with warm, caressing motions, stroking his hips, fingers curling in the thatch covering his crotch. Each touch was another tinglingjolt of pleasure.
It was absurd, Mulder knew, that he should be standing here in the woods somewhere in Virginia, with one partner bound and gagged in the trunk of a car, and another one crouched before him preparing to take his cock in his mouth. It was absurd, and no doubt it was wrong, but his shattered mind couldn't grasp it, and his strained body wanted it desperately. So he let his body have its way.
Krycek ran his tongue over his lips. Round, plush lips. Cocksucking lips. Mulder sighed as the moist lips opened, then placed one delicate kiss on the tip of his cock. One hand encircled Mulder's hip, and the other cupped Mulder's balls, squeezing them gently, while teasing, nibbling kisses trailed along the underside of his cock. A squeaky gasp escaped Mulder's throat, and his legs stiffened. His hips tried to thrust, but there was nothing to thrust against, just these maddening kisses, now working around the head of his cock, interspersed with wet caresses of the tongue. He moaned and squirmed and thought he would go mad, when Krycek's mouth finally opened and engulfed him. He cried out, then, and let his hips move, and Krycek moved with him, taking him deep into his throat, hand gripping the base of his cock, forming a hot, wet tunnel to soothe his desperate flesh.
Mulder thrust harder, faster, watching his cock slide between those round, soft lips. Krycek's eyes had closed, leaving only the curtain of improbable lashes resting against his pale cheeks. His mouth and hand worked in beatific concentration, drawing Mulder deeper, and closer, and higher, until his passion burst and scattered and filled Krycek's mouth.
Mulder groaned and slumped against the tree, while Krycek milked his orgasm dry. Then Krycek leaned back slightly on his heels, letting Mulder's wilting cock slide from his mouth, face suffused with a glow of pleasure, and rested his forehead against Mulder's belly. Mulder smiled down at him, ruffling his hair gently. God only knew where that had come from, but it was dearly welcome.
Then Krycek pushed himself back and to his feet. The hazy glow of pleasure faded, like the light of a cool mountain sunset. He stood, slightly shaky, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mulder shifted and began to pull up his briefs. "Alex?"
Krycek smiled a dark, ironic smile. "You're going to hate me for that some day."
"No, I won't. It was --"
"Let's go," Krycek interrupted.
Mulder trailed along behind him, fastening his zipper and belt.
At the car, Mulder paused, considering the car keys in his hand. Krycek laughed shortly, and got in the passenger's side.
Mulder entered the driver's side, and put the key in the ignition. "Alex," he began, having no idea what he was going to say.
"Mulder." Krycek's voice was soft, and terribly gentle. "We'd better hurry. Who knows how much time we have."
=Then why did we just spend fifteen minutes having a blow job in the woods?= Mulder wanted to ask. But he didn't. He just started the car, and headed it down the road.