Title: Kissing Krycek
Fandom: The X-files
Warning: Some swearing and mentions of violence and two men kissing.
Summary: Mulder becomes obsessed with the idea of kissing Krycek. And then there are cherry-flavoured Halls and some cheesy dialogue. PWP, Romance, Humour.
It had been an unspoken promise between them, like a bait, for so long that when it finally happened it took both of them by surprise.
Even back when they were partners, for however brief a time, and their relationship was polite and designed for them, according to protocol, like the dress code for their suits, and as was the case with their suits, their conversations were wrapped up tight in ridiculous texture and colours. But that's when the proverbial carrot started taking form between them, not in their words or even their touches, but in their glances.
Mulder only realized this in retrospect, and to this day he doesn't know if Krycek was aware at the time, if it was all part of his act, his plot to get under Mulder skin and into the X-files. But even if it was, the next time he ran into the double agent, this was before he'd advanced to triple, it was still there between them, and fuelled on by anger and hatred it was stronger than ever before.
It was raw and magnetic. It pissed him off.
He only wanted to focus on his hate, his disappointment, his fury. But as hard as he concentrated, and as much as he hated, and he really hated the other man, there was a flutter to his racing heartbeat that sent him railing.
Nothing happened between them.
Not when they were partners and it would have been okay, if a bit stupid and awkward and maybe not according to protocol, but eventually okay.
And later after the Rat Bastard's fall from grace or whatever, when it would have been far from okay, it still didn't happen.
Every time Mulder ran into him, or rather every time the Rat scurried into his path to try and weasel his way back in under his skin, either as a decoy or a full-on obstacle, it was there, between them, just as they'd left it the time before with a few choice words spat in each others face and some punches instead.
And each time it seemed to have grown more tempting, more electric, more inevitable, and yet they never allowed it to fully suck them in. Each time he held Krycek close and hissed and spluttered in his face, pinned him with his eyes, he would mould the fabric of his shirt in his fists and tremble with self-restraint, until finally, he'd have to let him go, push him away, punch him probably, just to keep the temptation at bay.
Krycek felt it too, Mulder knew he did. Because every time he bunched up his shirt front and pulled him near, Krycek's gaze would flicker down, briefly. It could have been him blinking, but Mulder knew him better, knew his every expression and trick by heart at this point, and he knew where his gaze went. A place Mulder wouldn't allow his to go. The forbidden place, the promised place, the place of no return to sanity.
And Krycek's tongue would flick out and wet his lips and it made Mulder want to punch him, because Krycek might have already lost his sanity years ago but Mulder still had some of his left and he would need it if he was going to save the planet and expose the truth, as conceited as that was. Most of the time he did punch him, not because Krycek was trying to cross the line, but because he made him want to cross it too and finally stop the dance they'd entertained for the past five or so years.
Krycek would hold his bruising jaw and glare at him from the ground, all anger and hurt, and eventually taunting. It became a mutual challenge. They rested on the gravity that seemed to exist between them, only holding back that last inch, testing the power of this thing, this magnetic force. It got as far as breathing each others air, and Mulder knew he was trouble when he started aching for skin on skin. He knew he must have finally lost his mind too. The more hate he felt and the angrier Krycek made him, the more he wanted, the more he craved that touch.
He didn't want to punch or pull or tear or bite, that he could have lived with, that he had lived with in the past, but he wanted to let go just a little bit more, just enough for their lips to brush, ever so slightly, that's all.
He wanted to kiss Krycek.
Once he had admitted as much to himself, it became easier to think clearly again, rationally, not that there was anything rational about wanted to kiss your nemesis, but at least he knew what he was dealing with and that's always a good starting point. "First step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem." Fucking Hell, if only there were support groups for this kind of thing, he thought one night.
Lying on his couch, staring at the flickering TV screen, he was miffed even if he wasn't at all surprised to realize that he was bored. He'd finally done it, he concluded. He'd watched himself sick of porn.
And that's when the day dreams started. Even if it only happened at night when he couldn't sleep. When he'd normally watch porn to doze off and get some sort of rest, with or without touching himself first, he started imagining what it would be like to kiss Krycek. At first it was only about touch. Brief, barely there touches, skin on skin, giving in to the pull between them, nothing more. But as the nights floated by, Mulder's imagination grew bolder, and the imagined kiss grew deeper. It never lead to sex though, in his mind, even if it lead to him touching himself outside of it, his imagination kept Krycek's clothes resolutely in place, as much as he wanted to rip them off, he never did. It was part of the thrill. The self-restraint. The challenge. But he still couldn't believe a single kiss with imaginary Krycek was enough to send him over the edge. He really had lost his mind.
When he saw the note on his floor, the words scrawled out in that familiar hand-writing, "Things are looking up", the truth be damned if he wasn't hard already even before he felt the other's body heat. Although it was the subtle smell of his deodorant mingled with that familiar scent that was just Krycek that made him dizzy. And the feel of his shallow breaths against the side of his mouth as he leaned in close. As usual. Only, since the last time he'd visited Mulder in this way, this closeness between them, for Mulder, had become familiar for a whole other reason. This is how his day dreams always started.
Krycek's eye flashed a worried grey for a moment, and Mulder realized he must have sensed the difference in him. He focused and played his part. And Krycek kept going none the wiser, until it happened.
He crossed the line.
Mulder's brain clicked off. He felt himself tumbling. The pull of gravity. The roar of blood in his ears. Krycek's lips on his cheek, dry but surprisingly soft, so close, they grazed the corner of Mulder's mouth, and was quick and hard and he was already pulling away, and that's when Mulder snapped.
Technically, Krycek had already crossed the line when he did it, Mulder reasoned later. But at the time he was incapable of any kind of reasoning. It had been an unspoken promise between them for so long that when it finally happened -- Now, Mulder thought, it's happening, it's happening -- it took both of them by surprise. Mulder had imagined kissing Krycek for several months now, maybe years if he was completely honest with himself, he'd driven himself insane wondering, what his lips would feel like, how he'd move them. But now, as he turned his head just slightly and grabbed the back of Krycek's neck -- gotcha! -- and pulled him back, held him in place and pressed his mouth to his… it wasn't the feel of Krycek's lips that did it. It was the taste of them when he snuck his tongue out and licked them.
Krycek flinched and broke away. He fell backwards and scrambled away from him. Mulder wondered if there was any way he could make this into a bad joke, or if he should apologize or just pretend like nothing and tell him to fuck off out of his apartment. He opted for neither and simply waited for Krycek to make the next move, after all, he's the one who crossed the line first.
Krycek was staring at him, wild-eyed, like a frightened animal. Not really angry, or insulted. Not exactly relieved and thankful either, like imaginary Krycek always was.
There was an awkward pause.
And then Mulder's brain started up again and with the realization of what he'd just done he wanted to sink into the floor and never see Krycek again.
I can't believe I just did that, he thought to himself.
"Get out", he mumbled.
Krycek blinked, his eyes, if possible, growing even larger at the sound of Mulder's broken voice. It had sounded firmer and angrier in his head, Mulder decided. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. Maybe he groaned as the back of his head connected with the wall. He decided to keep his eyes shut and count to ten and hopefully when he opened them again Krycek would be gone. He could convince himself it had all been one of his dreams, and he could go back to watching porn and first thing in the morning he'd make an appointment to see a shrink. Skinner would probably be more than happy to pay for one himself.
"I said, get out", this time, at least he sounded like his own cranky self.
He heard Krycek shuffle, his leather jacket groaned, his jeans scratched against the floor. Mulder frowned. Krycek wasn't shuffling over to the door. He was crawling back to Mulder. He blinked his eyes open and leaned his head forward again. And Krycek was right there, looking straight at him, not angry, or hurt, or even challenging. Maybe questioning, curious, definitely unsure. Mulder snorted, too tired to chuckle, or smile. Krycek's gaze flickered down, briefly. Mulder shut his eyes again.
And then Krycek's lips were on his, not forceful like before, but careful, frightened even. When Mulder didn't flinch away or punch him, or even kiss him back, Krycek seemed to gain some confidence and manoeuvred himself at a better angle. There was a definite pressure of lips and Krycek sucked Mulder's lower lip in-between his own and hugged it playfully. Mulder relaxed and opened up to him. There was an ironically shy play of tongues and Mulder recognized the familiar flutter in his chest.
He grabbed Krycek's head with both hands again and plunged his tongue in, all the way, and lapped at the underside of Krycek's tongue. An overpowering rush of coffee, vodka, peppermint and something sweet, spilled over into Mulder's mouth, he lapped at Krycek's tongue again, it wasn't exactly sugar, that sweet flavour, he sucked Krycek's tongue into his mouth, tried to pin-point it, maybe honey… Krycek's moan broke him out of his reverie. He retreated and nibbled on Krycek's lower lip. He got another moan in response and smiled. Krycek pulled back and stared at him. His eyes were slightly hooded and there was a sheen in his eyes, like he just woke up, or got a blow to the head. Something warm welled up inside Mulder.
I did that, he thought, and tried not to analyze the pride that blossomed in response to the thought.
Krycek's eyes quickly cleared, though. Now he was staring at Mulder as though he was trying to solve him. Mulder shrugged and smiled again. He leaned back against the wall.
"Did you hit your head?" Krycek asked.
Mulder started laughing, no giggling. This did nothing to reassure Krycek who appeared quite alarmed. Mulder shook his head, but kept chuckling. Krycek looked less than convinced.
"And you're not a clone?" he asked instead. Mulder shook his head again and snorted. Krycek didn't have to ask his third question, it was evident anyways. Truthfully, Mulder wasn't sure himself why he'd done it.
"You can only fight gravity for so long…" he said. "No. I'm not a clone. I've just lost my mind."
Krycek nodded, as if this made sense. Mulder wondered if he should feel insulted. Then it dawned on him.
"Cherry!" he exclaimed.
Krycek raised an eyebrow, but there was an amused glint in his eye now and the corner of his mouth twitched. He reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand and pulled out…
"Halls", Mulder said.
"Cherry-flavoured", Krycek confirmed.
"They're really good."
Mulder popped the sweet into his mouth and sucked on it. Krycek seemed mesmerized by the movement of his lips as he did. Mulder swallowed. Sucked on the sweet some more. Then frowned. Krycek glanced up and gave him a questioning look.
"…'s not the same."
Mulder grabbed Krycek by the neck again and pulled him in for another kiss. He pushed the sweet into the other man's mouth, then sucked it back. When he pulled away again he smirked to himself. Krycek's eyes were completely unfocused now, and his breathing shallow.
"Much better", Mulder said.
"Shut up, Mulder…" Krycek whispered breathlessly and attacked his mouth again.