Title: Buck 
Author: BethLynn 
Date: May 30, 1998

Disclaimer: The X-files and its characters are the property
of FOX and assorted affiliate agencies. No infringement
intended. No Profit made.

Rating: NC-17
Classification: M/K Slash PWP

Summary: Think ahead - past season six. Think, perhaps, past
season seven. Life never ends. It continues to change and
grow. Imagination survives, even past The End.

Note: This effort has been created in response to L.C.'s
challenge to write Mulder and Krycek with a baby. Plot
curtailed due to incendiary factors. :-D  A resounding,
"She's Hot!", for Te who sweated over this for me, helping
me out of the depths of Personal Pronoun Hell. And, also,
Alicia, who provided a few fluid sentences when my brain
burned too hot to focus. Psst. . . This is my first posting
of a slash piece. Hurt me good. <g>

**

Roy, Utah
Cusp of Autumn
Dusk

Lightening stroked the sky. It lashed at the mesas and tore at
the flatlands between. Black-hearted cumuli swelled, casting
moisture upon the arid plains, and wind swept across the earth
churning up red sands. Whispers of change reached the ears of
an old soul, and time stood still.

Mulder sat on the porch and watched the Earth dancing. He
ran his hands through dark close-cropped hair and leaned
back against the wall of his cabin. Long legs clad in worn
jeans stretched before him and bare feet tapped absently on
the wooden floor of the old stoop. He pulled at the T-shirt
sticking to his chest. The air was humid, hot, and crackling
with anticipation.

He finally stripped the sodden material from his torso,
wiping at the beads of moisture on his taut stomach. He felt
briefly for a scar on his left shoulder and salty moisture
seared his eyes. Pain clogged his throat and harsh waves of
emotion rumbled through his chest.

"Scully. . . ," he sobbed. Breath hiccuped in past full lips
and he shuddered. He shook himself away from the wall and
rested his head in his hands. Memories erupted into his
consciousness and he let them hold sway. Finally.

He crooned to the wind, remembering his friend. Eight years
of memories flashed disjointed through his mind, stabbing at
his heart, and stealing the air from his lungs.

*******

"Mulder, that's insane." Scully glared at her partner. "You want
us to have a child together?" She paced away from her desk
toward the door.

"Scully, wait," Mulder begged. He chased her to the threshold,
blocking her escape. He grasped at a slim shoulder and pulled
her back into the room. He backed up to the edge of her desk,
bringing her close, and entrapping her between the curve of his
legs "Here me out." He watched her wind up for a verbal blow.
"Please."

Scully paused and stared up at her partner. Hazel eyes full of
entreaty gazed down at her and long tapered fingers contracted
on her arms. Urgency communicated itself to her and she stilled,
listening.

"Scully. . . uh. . .we've known each other for, what? Forever?"
Mulder shook his head, chuckling low in his throat. "I have a
difficult time remembering what it was like before you." He
grinned sheepishly. "Scully, you're a part of me. My partner. My
best friend. We have been to hell and back together. . . how many
times? What's the count?" He paused staring down into blue eyes.
They gazed back at him solemnly and he pressed on.

"We've changed. I've changed." He shook her slightly in
emphasis. "I've found resolution is some areas of my life
and now there are things that I've wanted. . . that I want."
He tipped his head forward leaning into her forehead. He
felt her stiffen and leaned quickly away, dropping his hands
from her arms.

"I want a child. I want a family." He stared sadly at his partner.
"I don't want to wait for some nebulous soul-mate to present
themselves and complete my life. I'm going to live my life as
I've wanted to - with a family. I can't go back to the way things
were. I want more. Something of my own. Someone to love." He
stared down at his friend hoping that she could fathom the
disjointed expression of his feelings.

Scully watched her partner dispassionately. Her inability to
conceive children was still a painful topic and she did not care
to be a part of this conversation. Friendship trapped her, left
her immobile, and reluctantly, a party to Mulder's feelings.

"I thought, perhaps, you'd be willing to carry the child for me."
Scully's gaze sharpened and she stood away from him. He
hurried on. "I know you can't. . . you don't. . . hell, Scully. This
is something, a dream that we could both benefit from. Just
another part of our lives aligned." He shoved his hands back
through his hair and pushed himself away from the desk. "Is
any of this making sense?"

He looked to her to put things into perspective for him. She
stood beside him and stared quellingly.

"Mulder. I understand what you're saying. I understand what
you want. I want those things too." Her resolve cracked and
a quiet sob escaped past her lips. She shook her head and
swallowed more cries. "But, I can't have a child for you,
with you. I can't be a part of this." She walked away.

*******

Lightening cracked and Mulder fell back into the present. A
sibilant cry sounded from within the cabin and he smiled
minutely as he turned to go in. His thoughts as he passed
the threshold cast back once more in remembrance.

*******

"A surrogate?" Scully glanced in horror at her partner.  "You're
serious?" She watched Mulder nod solemnly. "How far along is
she?"

Mulder sighed. He sat back in his chair, shifting his legs to the
top of his desk. He tipped his head back, smiling.

"Three months. I wanted to wait until the first trimester was
over before telling anyone." He grimaced slightly. "Just in case. . ."
He chuckled and folded his hands behind his head. "Scully, I'm
going to have a son." Hazel eyes met blue ones, wide with shock
and disbelief. He smiled in resignation and the distance between
them grew.

*******

"My son." Mulder entered the bedroom of the cabin and
paused, staring down into the crib. He grinned. His son lay
on his back, arms and legs flailing, and shouting his
dissatisfaction with his world. Mulder laughed softly and
the baby startled, stilling momentarily and staring up at
his father. Tiny fists waved in the air and a voice burbled
in greeting. Mulder reached into the crib and pulled the
small body into his arms, crooning quietly about bottles and
Sweet Potatoes. His son cooed at him in return and smiled a
one-tooth grin. He grabbed at a hand-full of the sparse fur
covering his daddy's chest and Mulder winced.

"Buck, let go," he requested. He lay the child on the Navajo
blanket covering his bed and reached for the changing
supplies. He played finger games and sang tonelessly as he
changed his son. They laughed together, delighted with one
another, and love grew.

Mulder wrapped the baby boy in a fuzzy blanket and carried
him and his bottle back out onto the front porch. He watched
his son eat, sucking hungrily at the bottle, and let memories
claim him once more.

*******

Scully watched Mulder approach the car, arms supporting his
newborn son. He stopped in front of her and stooped to place
the diaper-bag on the ground beside the car. Her eyes caught
movement behind him.

"Mulder! Behind you!" Scully's voice tore through the night and
she stepped around him placing her body between his back and
the approaching bullet. Her gun fired, dropping the assassin as
his shot reached her, mortally wounding her, and thrusting her
against her partners back. Mulder tensed, hunching over the
bundle in his arms, and reaching out with one hand to catch
himself on the hood of the car. He strained to hold his balance,
pressing his son close to his heart - A heart that shrieked in
agony as he felt his partner slip bonelessly down his back.

The weight of her fell away and he righted himself, turning
and quickly surveying the surrounding area before glancing
down at his partner. He stooped, son held instinctively in
one arm, reaching out with the other to touch pale skin. A
spark passed between them and she was gone, leaving behind
a broken heart to be mended by a child called StarBuck.

*******

Krycek sat on the rustic steps of the stoop and watched
Mulder sleep. He was glad to be out of the rain. The walk
from the bus stop was long and he was tired, wet, and hungry
for this man.

He smoothed wet hair away from his face, never glancing away
from the semi-reclined figure, or the bundle held securely in
his arms. He breathed in cadence with the slumbering figure
and controlled the need to wake him, touch him, know that he
was well.

He had heard the story of Scully's heroic effort to save Mulder's
life and the life of his newborn son. The truth shattered his soul
and yearning exploded. He shook his life harshly, settling old
scores swiftly, breaking away from darkness, and turning his
footsteps toward dreams he had thrust aside long ago.

His heart led him here. It took months to track Mulder and clean
up trails left by the both of them. At this moment - to the world -
they were non-existent. He prayed fervently for acceptance. There
was nowhere left for him to go.

He surveyed the homestead. It was a ragged wooden structure in
the middle of flat land where time stood still and dreams played
with reality. He sighed and let some of the tension he was feeling
seep into the night air. Lightening shocked the dark sky and he
watched as Mulder came awake.

The lamp in the livingroom cast luminescence through the
window and about the porch. Shadows danced with the wind and
Mulder felt a presence. His gaze shifted, coming to rest on the
darkness hovering on the steps. He tensed. A voice whispered to
him.

"It's okay, Mulder. No worries." Krycek leaned forward into the
light, hands held up in front of him. He tipped his head forward
and stared at Mulder with solemn, dark eyes.

Mulder tipped his head back and laughed silently toward the
ceiling. Life was cruel. He knew that. He escaped one assassin
only to lose the life of his best friend. Now he faced another
assassin, his son once again in his arms. He understood the
risk of having children with the kind of life he led, but why
couldn't they come at him when he wasn't holding his life in
his hands, so to speak.

He glared at Krycek.

"Can I put the boy down before you kill me, or are you going
to murder him too?" he rasped. He held still, afraid to startle
either his son or his enemy.

Krycek lunged forward. Distress brought him close to Mulder,
and he kneeled between long denim-clad thighs. His hands
grasped at Mulder's knees for balance and he felt the man
tense.

"I'm not here to kill you," he gasped guietly. He glanced
down at the bundle in Mulder's arms and gulped. A tiny hand
grasped at the edge of the fuzzy wrap and wispy snores
sifted into his consciousness. He stared in awe and glanced
up into Mulder's wary gaze. Confusion filled his mien and he
tipped forward over the baby.

Mulder tensed as Krycek leaned toward him. He held tightly
to sanity, subconsciously calculating avenues of escape.
Kryceks hands tightened just above his knees and his face
tipped closer.

Time slowed and gazes collided as the air between them fell
heavy with expectancy. Krycek leaned infinitesimally closer,
his breath caressing as he spoke.

"I need to be here," he hissed. Long, thick lashes swept
once over green eyes and he stared at Mulder intently.

Mulder blinked. He could taste Krycek in the air. His tongue
flicked out over his lips and his senses were inundated with
the flavor of his enemy.

"You're not going to kiss me again, are you?" Mulder cocked
an eyebrow in daring. He watched as Alex's gaze fastened on
his lips, and swallowed a smile.

"Not yet," Alex ground out harshly. Want flared in his eyes
and he smiled grimly as the older man sucked in a deep
breath. He relaxed his hold on Mulder's knees and stoked
slowly up and over the sides of lean, muscular thighs. "I
want more from you."

Mulder's eyes widened and his breath stuttered past his lips.
His control was slipping and his body was betraying him.
Tension curled about nerve endings and his muscles were
beginning to spasm. Desperation clawed at his heart and
thoughts spilled over into vocal chords.

"What, Krycek? What do you want? You aren't a part of my
life, except on dark nights a few times a year when we face
each other with weapons and harsh words. You've invaded my
life with intent to kill before. Why should I trust you now?"
Mulder shifted to stand. His presence pushed the younger
man back on his heels and Mulder turned to take his son
inside.

He presented his back to Krycek and fervently hoped to live.
His needed to put his son down before the tension-wrought
spasming caused him to drop the boy. He toed open the screen-
door and paced across the living room into the bedroom beyond,
conscious that the door did not slam behind him.

Krycek stopped outside the door to the bedroom, peering in
cautiously. The home contained an eclectic mix of rustic
furniture accented with forest green and burgundy linens and
curios. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited while
Mulder settled his son into a crib beside a colorfully covered
pine-log bed. He noted the pictures of Scully and Samantha
propped on the mantle of the bedrooms stone fireplace. His
heart twitched and his gaze was drawn back to the tall, lanky
man bending over the crib. He ached somewhere inside.

Mulder tucked Buck in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He
turned to find Krycek staring at him with longing. The longing
caught at a heart softened by love for a child. Curiosity shuffled
his emotions and he wondered what Alex Krycek could want for.
And, why this craving suddenly mattered to him.

Mulder's heart dredged up the word charity, and he tried to
wrap his mind around the concept of bestowing it upon Krycek.
He inclined his head for the younger man to proceed him out
of the room.

He trudged to the kitchen and stood in the midst of hanging
copper pans and dried herbs, fixing hot tea. Alex hung at the
edge of the bar, silent and tracking every movement with large
dark eyes. Mulder handed him a mug and he took it wrapping
his fingers around the ceramic, reaching for the older man's
wrist with his other hand.

Mulder stared at the hand wrapped about his wrist and
comprehension dawned. He let go of the cup and brought his
other hand up to touch the digits grasping his arm.

"I didn't realize. . . ," he began. "New arm, Krycek?" He shook
from Krycek's grip and grabbed the younger mans arm.
Muscles contracted under his gaze and he pressed at them.

Krycek nodded and disengaged from Mulder's touch. He backed
into the living room and relaxed onto the sofa, mug in hand. He
did not want to share dark stories with his host.

Mulder paced into the room and perched on the edge of the
hearth. He gulped the sweet tea and waited for the caffeine
to steady his muscles.

"Why are you here?" Mulder asked softly.

"I'm here because she left you," Krycek stated bluntly. He
watched Mulder from beneath slumberous eyes. The older man
launched himself from the hearth and strode toward Krycek.

Mulder grabbed a handful of black T-shirt and yanked his
former partner up from the sofa.

"You shut-up! You don't get to talk about her. You don't
know. . . ." Mulder cursed as sobs worked their way up from
his gut.

Krycek knocked his hands away and shoved him back. He glared
at Mulder, all patience he had gone, fleeing from anger.

"She left you! She's gone." Krycek paced away from the older
man. He shoved his hands back through his hair and turned,
pinning Mulder in place with a gaze so intense the air around
him waved with the heat of it. "If she's not with you, I am.
Don't you get it?" he questioned harshly. "One of us was
always suppose to be there for you. To watch you. To watch
over you. To protect you!" Krycek groaned and pressed his
hands to his eyes trying to bring order to chaotic thoughts.
Predisposed currents of feeling clouded his judgement and
he swore harshly. He threw himself at the taller man knocking
him to the floor and pinning him beneath his chest. Mulder
moved to defend himself and Krycek grabbed his chin. Vision
clashed.

"No. You listen," the younger man hissed. "God, Mulder. For
a bright man you are unusually obtuse." Krycek chuckled low
in his chest and caressed the skin just below the older man's
jawline. He watched Mulder's eyes widen and bent low enough
to suck in the hiss of air the man below him released. He
smiled wickedly and blew on the skin below his captive's lips.

"You're the martyr Fox. The example. The sacrifice. Joan of
Arc with a dick." Alex shifted, pulling his hips from Mulder's
side and settling himself on top of the taller man.

Mulder shifted and watch heat flare from the man above him.
Green eyes caught and held his. Nostrils flared, breathing in
scent and lips drew back minutely.

Alex growled and tightened his hold on the jaw-line of the
other man.

"Don't move. Just. Listen. I'm am only going to explain this
once, you thick-headed, fuckable, piece of genetic anomaly."
Alex unconsciously ground his hips into Mulder's as he spoke.

Mulder's attention was torn between the words Krycek was
spitting and the blood coursing through his system and
pooling in his nether regions. Coherence was rapidly
becoming selective. Anger and fear swelled and fired off
nerve endings. Adrenaline pumped into his brain, jump-
starting the fight or flight instinct, and he struggled to
hear what the younger man was saying, resisting his body's
urges to dominate and control.

Alex could feel the body beneath him strumming with
repressed emotion. His actions flowed into consciousness and
he continued to undulate his hips. His breath rasped harshly
and he struggled to relay thoughts coherently. He wanted this
man, but he wanted all of him, not just his body. Understanding
and acceptance were crucial.

He dropped his forehead to Mulders and whispered against his
skin, caressing with lips and teeth.

"You know you've been playing the game, Mulder." Alex licked
at the rough skin and the man below him trembled. "Agent Fox
Mulder set up as Martyr for the people of Earth. You think you
know why Scully was assigned to you. You want to know my
motives in all of this. You want the truth, but, you are
constantly letting yourself be sidetracked." He pressed his
face to the older man's throat and breathed deeply. "And now
you think to give it all up for your son."

Mulder focused on the word 'son' and tried to gather the
strength to throw Alex off him. His muscles, his heart,
refused to obey. He listened, and need built a shimmering
web about his body.

"We're a part of you Mulder. Scully and I. The partner and
the guide. She watches. . . watched your back, and I cleared
the path before you. You'd be dead many times over but for
the two of us." Krycek saw the disbelief filling Mulder's
gaze and sighed. He let his head tip forward and whispered
into Fox's ear.

"Call me. . . Ishmael," he breathed. He felt the body beneath
him go rigid. He chuckled silently. "Or perhaps you'd care to
call me what my mom calls me." He thrust back off the man
below him and stood up. He held out a hand to help the older
man up.

Mulder stared at the hand held out to him and took it with
trepidation, knowing instinctively that he hadn't heard the
worst. Alex helped him up and he adjusted himself
sheepishly.

Alex smirked and did the same. He turned and grabbed the
jacket he dropped earlier and rummaged for his wallet. He
tossed it to Fox and waited.

Mulder glanced toward the bedroom, straining to hear his
son. All was quiet and he opened the wallet in his hands
slowly.

Krycek waited as Mulder went through his wallet. He watched
comprehension dawn and drew himself stiffly to attention.
Mulder's gaze jerked to him and he bowed in irony.

"Charles Scully at your service."

End Buck (1/2)

Title: Buck (2/2)
Author: BethLynn (bethlynn@aol.com)
Date: June 01, 1998
Disclaimer: See Buck (1/2)

*******

Mulder swayed on his feet, mouth slack with shock as the
wallet fell from nerveless fingers. Chaotic visions milled
about behind shuttered lids and questions were answered
at an alarming rate. He cursed himself for an idiot and let
eidetic memory arrange the previously scattered pieces of
his life.

Krycek listened to the man whisper, words flowing rapidly,
incoherently toward the floor. Fathomless eyes watched for
infinitesimal changes in demeanor.

"My father?" Fox moaned in question. His head rose heavy
from his chest and he stared across the room at Krycek.

"You tell me Fox. What about your father?" Krycek understood
there was only so much he could hand the man, without
destroying the tentative link they shared. The truth had to
come from Mulders' experiences, if he was to believe in
another Scully.

"You killed him," Fox stated. He watched Alex nod solemnly.
"He wasn't my father." The other man gave a negative shake
of his head. Mulder groaned and swallowed loudly.

"He was going to kill me." He stared across the room into
dispassionate eyes and felt expansive misery coalesce into
resolve. "Melissa?"

Krycek shook his head and looked away, out the front window
into darkness. He pressed hands into the front pockets of
his jeans and bit at his bottom lip to keep from breaking
apart. He felt Mulder coming at him.

Mulder seized the man by the throat forcing him to look up
into hazel eyes.

Krycek grabbed at Mulder's arms for support and let the grip
at his throat stand. Sorrow danced in rainbows over a film of
tears covering eyes, and he held silent. Lids dropped,
blocking out the older man's accusing gaze. He sucked in air
roughly through his nose.

Mulder's gaze intensified and he tightened his hold on the
younger mans throat. He shook Alex and felt hands clutch at
his elbows. He found himself moving closer and hips brushed
together. Unconsciously, he allowed Krycek balance, without
sacrificing his aggressive stance.

"She wasn't suppose to die, was she?" Mulder felt something
warm hit the fingers he held just under Kryceks jaw. A
glance down, and he was transfixed by the sight of blood
trailing from a full bottom lip punctured by grasping teeth.
It flowed down his captive's chin and onto the sensitive web
of skin between his own thumb and forefinger.

Mulder bared his teeth and a low growl reverberated through
his chest. He leaned forward and inhaled the coppery scent
of blood. Instinct slammed at the base of his neck and a
moist tongue escaped his mouth to lap at the vital fluid
wetting the other mans skin. Coherent thought fled and he
sought the source of injury with his mouth. Fingers loosened
their bruising grip on the others throat, and moved to pry at
lips still held by teeth.

"Let go," he murmured. He spread his legs, easing his stance
and felt Krycek lean into him. He cupped Alex' face and
stroked thumbs along the sides of his mouth, coaxing it
open, and sucking at the gashed bottom lip. He felt arms
slip around his waist and growled again. Sentience became
the sweet taste filling his mouth, and his tongue sought
access to more.

Krycek ran his palms over Mulder's back. Muscle rippled as
his fingers passed over smooth skin. Soul-searing grief from
moments ago transformed into agony of a different sort.
Mulder sucked at his lips and he breathed in hugely. A
tongue thrust into his mouth and sorrow incinerated, searing
rational thought from his mind. Raw desired flashed through
him and he grabbed at a denim-covered ass, pulling the older
man hard against him.

Lips teased and taunted. Hips brushed and rolled. Desire
expanded, wrapping both in a cocoon of sensuality.
Individual thoughts died, and want consumed them.

Mulder grabbed at the shirt covering the other mans torso.
He pulled the hem and pushed the material up and over a
contoured chest. Hot fingers skimmed over flesh that
tightened in response. He palmed a pectoral muscle and
tweaked a flat nipple. It wasn't enough and he broke away,
quickly pulling the shirt over Alex' head. He bunched the
material in his hand as the image of perfect form burned
into his retinas. He launched the shirt away from them
finally, and pulled the man roughly back into his arms. Bare
skin met, and hot breath hissed, as mouths contacted again
in desperate need.

Alex let Mulder back them up to the edge of the sofa.
Brutally awkward movements stretched them out on the padded
length. Teeth collided, and Alex swore through lacerated lips.

Mulder crooned and trailed a broad tongue down over the
younger man's throat. He thrust down at the man beneath him
and felt Alex grind against him in response.

"More," he rasped. "Not enough. Faster." He panted and
dipped to whisper in Krycek's ear. His tongue forgot to
speak and he sucked at a lobe with his lips instead. He
grunted and shifted off the younger man, opening heavy-
lidded eyes.

Krycek lay pulling air into a distressed body. His head
rested against the seat cushions and long dark hair splayed
away from his features. Incomprehensibly thick lashes swept
up revealing eyes vibrant with need. A lush mouth pursed as
he tried to rise to his elbows. Hands at his waistband sapped
his intentions and he fell back with a moan. He stretched his
arms up over his head and turned to bite the flexing muscle
of his upper arm, gulping back his lover's name.

Mulder stalked the younger man's movements and shuddered.
He needed more. He palmed the thick rod hiding beneath denim
and seethed with satisfaction when Krycek thrust up into his
hand. A grim smile played about his lips as he quickly divested
the other man of his last piece of clothing. Waves of lust
bordering on fury pulsed through his body and he leaned close,
laying his head on Alex thighs. He pressed his face into the
other mans groin, breathing the scent of him in deeply. Hands
stabbed into his hair and pulled causing his lips to brush
against silken skin covering a hard shaft. The foreign scent
invaded his mouth, becoming flavor, and saliva pooled. He
flicked a tongue reflexively, searching for the source of the
tantalizing scent.

Krycek cursed, and his hips shot forward. Over eight years
of wanting Fox were finally short-circuiting the connections
to his heart and soul. His mind reveled in the chaos this
man caused. He prayed fervently for infinite completion.

Mulder ran a moist tongue along the sensitive ridge of flesh
on the underside of Krycek's thick cock, and sucked the head
of it into his mouth. His own cocked pulsed warningly and he
opened his jeans, hastily wrapping a hand around himself.

He took the other man deeper into his mouth, sucking
noisily, tonguing the moisture seeping from the shaft-head.
He backed off with a groan.

"Come on, Baby. Let it happen for me." Strong fingers pulled
at his hair and he chuckled mirthlessly. He felt the body
beneath him tense, the shaft growing impossibly larger. He
blew on the head and sucked its length to the back of his
throat.

Krycek shoved his hips up toward the hot mouth and swallowed
a shout. His body pulsed and liquid heat coursed through his
veins. He yelped quietly when Mulder drew away letting him
erupt onto his own skin. His hands, still entangled his lover's
hair, tugged, and Mulder slid up over him.

Mulder shoved at his jeans and settled himself over the
other man. Krycek still shivered in release below him. He
rolled his hips, thrusting himself over the tightly drawn
stomach below him, coating his shaft with cum. Teeth bit at
his nipples and he hissed, shaking his head. He sat back on
his heels between the other mans thighs and stared hard.

"Legs up." He pushed at Kryceks knees and leaned forward. He
scraped fingers through the remaining moisture on the
younger man's torso and felt for the banded opening he
wanted, badly, to lose himself in.

Krycek swallowed heavily as a finger slid into him. The pain
was good and he quivered. Another hand sleeked up the side
of his thigh pulling his leg over his lover's broad shoulder.
Teeth nipped at the back of his knee and another finger
joined the first, feeding in and out of him, stroking desire
into fire again.

Eyes met and clashed with barely-restrained malice. Panting
breath stirred the air around them, and the scent of sex
blurred their vision.

Three stabbing fingers were swiftly replaced by a cock so
hot and so hard Alex momentarily forget to breathe.

Mulder glared down at Alex, dizzy with passion, and almost
howling with outrage because he couldn't touch the younger
man everywhere at once. There was some satisfaction in
watching his cock plunge in and out of Krycek's vulnerable
body, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel the other man's
engorged member back in his mouth. And he wanted -- no,
needed -- to taste that lower lip again.

Krycek reflexively gasped for air when Mulder bit him. Warm
fluid gushed from the cut in his lip, flooding his mouth. He
sputtered and swallowed blood. The man over him growled
and Krycek strained upward into the kiss.

Lightening thoughts passed through feelings between them.
Mulders stomach stroked Kryceks cock and rhythm coaxed
them to the brink of fiery commitment. Clarity existed on
the edge of ecstasy and remnants of affection established
themselves in the heart of each as they passed over into
passion's sweet hell. Essence imploded and they fell to
reality, panting hoarsely, lips sweeping roughly over moist
skin, and hips riding in torturous cadence.

The storm passed.

*******

Roy, Utah
Cusp of Autumn
Later Days
Dusk

Mulder leaned against the bedroom doorway toweling his hair
dry, and beheld the man holding his son. Krycek sat cross-
legged in the middle of the Navajo blanket with Buck tucked
in his arms. Lips pursed and helped shape words to a song
sung in a true-toned, if raspy alto. Bare shoulders swept
down into a smooth chest and Mulder tried to see the heart
beating beneath it.

He let the picture before him soothe him, and silently
turned from one Scully to the next. Shards of pain still
lashed at his heart, but quiet words drifted across the room
and comforted him. Buck and Alex were holding an intense
conversation and Alex's response to a very gurglish outburst
swept over him capturing his soul.

"No worries, Buck. Your daddy will clear the path for you.
And, me? I got your back."

END


Of course, there are unanswered questions - It's an X-file.
Oh, and, L.C.? Did you happen to notice I worked baby eating
into the story? Hmmm. . . possibly not the type of baby, or
eating, you were referring to. But, that's a good thing, right? ;-)