Krycek/Mulder fic
Apr. 22nd, 2006 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparklebutchTitle: Morningstar
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Krycek/Mulder
Dedication:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drc1
It made Mulder think, not having Krycek around. Made him remember.
He didn't really want to think those particular thoughts. Fond memories turned to ache, where he should still be feeling hate. He couldn't feel quite the right hate for Krycek anymore. Murderous bastard - no, see, it wasn't working. All he remembered were big eyes staring at him, and then the life drained from them. And then he'd feel a strange hate for himself.
It was just that not having the man around, helping and hindering at the same time, in the same breath even, it made Mulder remember the could've-beens. The what-ifs. The want.
He'd long ago accepted his wanting Krycek. After the first bout of repression and panic, he analyzed it, like he did everything in his life, and catalogued it away in a relatively large part of his brain he labeled 'fetishes and fantasies to never practice in real life'. It was stupid when Krycek was a tiny little agent, still wet behind his ears, and it was far dumber when Krycek was the enemy.
But it didn't stop him from wanting.
...Fantasies turn to dreams. The conscious and subconscious meld, mix, and some nights, when he's all alone, when a quick jack-off session before bedtime is just not enough, he dreams of Krycek. Mulder's familiar with those dreams and stopped trying to read into them unsolved issues with his father. He just welcomes them, leans back and enjoys the ride.
This time he's on a rollercoaster, climbing up and then shooting down so fast he's pressed against the back of the car he's in. At the bottom of the 'valley' he turns to his partner and says,
"Whew. That was too fast."
The passenger's Krycek. He nods and straightens his hair, messy from the wild ride, all the time smiling that little boy grin of his that could be innocent if you really didn't know the guy.
"It's all gonna be okay," Krycek says, soothing.
Mulder doesn't question his dream.
They end up in a fur bed, after some more dreamscape adventures that go by too blurrily to be remembered well; Mulder recalls a squirrel in the woods and a cup of tea that was mysteriously everywhere he looked. Dreams. Can't always decipher them. But the bit in the bed is easy to understand.
It's his libido and his guilt playing him together into an impossible scenario.
Like soft fur against his back and an agile, supple body perched on his groin, rubbing up and down. Krycek's older than he remembered, and wider, and has one palm - his one palm - on Mulder's chest, and his cock is dark in the dim light of not-quite-dawn-yet. Mulder feels the heat of Krycek's thighs against his own hips and arches up into the touch, determined to let himself indulge, enjoy this dream as much as he can. Enjoy the best he can have.
Krycek's hand leaves his chest, where the warmth against his pulse made him aware of his heart thumping, and slides down to cup two cocks together. Sticky wet and real, so real Mulder moans into the hard heat and lets Krycek stroke them both, together, and it still feels so real he can almost be sure the come that hit his chest isn't in his mind alone. He drifts back into deep, black, dreamless sleep.
He wakes a while after, and the light is brighter now. He sits up in bed gingerly and something is not quite right. Someone else is there, in the shadows. Mulder reaches for his gun, and it's not there.
"Who's there?"
"Relax."
The figure leaves the shadows and Mulder stares. The man is wiping his chest with a small towel, one of Mulder's small towels. He has his jeans back on, but no shirt, and his arms - his two healthy, muscular arms - they're... there.
"Krycek."
"Go back to sleep." The man smiles, opens Mulder's closet and takes a t-shirt, putting it on. Slipping his arms into the sleeves. Mulder gets up and walks to him, and Krycek doesn't flinch away when Mulder pets him from hand to shoulder, to another shoulder and down to another hand. He does flinch when Mulder touches his forehead.
"Go to sleep, Mulder," he repeats in a softer voice, leading his former enemy back to bed. "It's all a dream... Just a sweet dream."
Mulder puts his head on the pillow and watches as Krycek continues to dress and then leave, silent but very much real, through the door. Only then he closes his eyes and lets himself drift back to sleep.
[end]
Notes:
Fordrc1 who wanted Mulder+Krycek with these fic kinks:
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
Orientation issues (confusion; discovery and coming out; self-hatred)
Sleep and bedding themes (sex while drowsy or sleeping; watching someone sleep; dreams; nightmares; dream lovers, e.g., succubi; exotic or romantic beds, e.g., canopied; furs as bedding; silk sheets)
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Krycek/Mulder
Dedication:
drc1 It made Mulder think, not having Krycek around. Made him remember.
He didn't really want to think those particular thoughts. Fond memories turned to ache, where he should still be feeling hate. He couldn't feel quite the right hate for Krycek anymore. Murderous bastard - no, see, it wasn't working. All he remembered were big eyes staring at him, and then the life drained from them. And then he'd feel a strange hate for himself.
It was just that not having the man around, helping and hindering at the same time, in the same breath even, it made Mulder remember the could've-beens. The what-ifs. The want.
He'd long ago accepted his wanting Krycek. After the first bout of repression and panic, he analyzed it, like he did everything in his life, and catalogued it away in a relatively large part of his brain he labeled 'fetishes and fantasies to never practice in real life'. It was stupid when Krycek was a tiny little agent, still wet behind his ears, and it was far dumber when Krycek was the enemy.
But it didn't stop him from wanting.
...Fantasies turn to dreams. The conscious and subconscious meld, mix, and some nights, when he's all alone, when a quick jack-off session before bedtime is just not enough, he dreams of Krycek. Mulder's familiar with those dreams and stopped trying to read into them unsolved issues with his father. He just welcomes them, leans back and enjoys the ride.
This time he's on a rollercoaster, climbing up and then shooting down so fast he's pressed against the back of the car he's in. At the bottom of the 'valley' he turns to his partner and says,
"Whew. That was too fast."
The passenger's Krycek. He nods and straightens his hair, messy from the wild ride, all the time smiling that little boy grin of his that could be innocent if you really didn't know the guy.
"It's all gonna be okay," Krycek says, soothing.
Mulder doesn't question his dream.
They end up in a fur bed, after some more dreamscape adventures that go by too blurrily to be remembered well; Mulder recalls a squirrel in the woods and a cup of tea that was mysteriously everywhere he looked. Dreams. Can't always decipher them. But the bit in the bed is easy to understand.
It's his libido and his guilt playing him together into an impossible scenario.
Like soft fur against his back and an agile, supple body perched on his groin, rubbing up and down. Krycek's older than he remembered, and wider, and has one palm - his one palm - on Mulder's chest, and his cock is dark in the dim light of not-quite-dawn-yet. Mulder feels the heat of Krycek's thighs against his own hips and arches up into the touch, determined to let himself indulge, enjoy this dream as much as he can. Enjoy the best he can have.
Krycek's hand leaves his chest, where the warmth against his pulse made him aware of his heart thumping, and slides down to cup two cocks together. Sticky wet and real, so real Mulder moans into the hard heat and lets Krycek stroke them both, together, and it still feels so real he can almost be sure the come that hit his chest isn't in his mind alone. He drifts back into deep, black, dreamless sleep.
He wakes a while after, and the light is brighter now. He sits up in bed gingerly and something is not quite right. Someone else is there, in the shadows. Mulder reaches for his gun, and it's not there.
"Who's there?"
"Relax."
The figure leaves the shadows and Mulder stares. The man is wiping his chest with a small towel, one of Mulder's small towels. He has his jeans back on, but no shirt, and his arms - his two healthy, muscular arms - they're... there.
"Krycek."
"Go back to sleep." The man smiles, opens Mulder's closet and takes a t-shirt, putting it on. Slipping his arms into the sleeves. Mulder gets up and walks to him, and Krycek doesn't flinch away when Mulder pets him from hand to shoulder, to another shoulder and down to another hand. He does flinch when Mulder touches his forehead.
"Go to sleep, Mulder," he repeats in a softer voice, leading his former enemy back to bed. "It's all a dream... Just a sweet dream."
Mulder puts his head on the pillow and watches as Krycek continues to dress and then leave, silent but very much real, through the door. Only then he closes his eyes and lets himself drift back to sleep.
[end]
Notes:
For
drc1 who wanted Mulder+Krycek with these fic kinks:Absence makes the heart grow fonder
Orientation issues (confusion; discovery and coming out; self-hatred)
Sleep and bedding themes (sex while drowsy or sleeping; watching someone sleep; dreams; nightmares; dream lovers, e.g., succubi; exotic or romantic beds, e.g., canopied; furs as bedding; silk sheets)
