Possibilities,

by Brenda Antrim. Rated NC 17 -- this is a Mulder/Krycek/Scully 
story. It follows the stories Deal and Bait, and the whole thing needs a little 
explanation. When I wrote the Deal, I started two sets of sequels to it. One, 
consisting of Runes, Identity and Recognition, is a series of regular X Files 
with an attempt to build a relationship between Mulder and Krycek. The other, 
made up of Bait and Possibilities, is strictly sex, and makes no attempt to 
redeem anyone. Although they have the same starting point, the two series are 
completely separate from one another. Hope this isn't too confusing :}. So. 
Onward to the story -- WARNING: smut ahead, m/m, m/f. If you're a minor or 
conservative in your reading habits DO NOT read this. Mulder, Scully, Krycek and 
Mr. X all belong to CC, and he'd never ever do these things to them, so I'll do 
it for him. Sue me and pay my debts. Enjoy! 
 
************************************************** 
He'd hoped, almost prayed, that he'd never hear that voice again. The memories 
of what that bastard had done to him, and the more recent memories of his own 
actions, haunted him. He understood a little better why his enemy had not been 
able to get their coupling out of his mind. Having both given and recieved, and 
having confronted depths to his sensuality that he'd have been happier never 
seeing, he had hoped that it would be over. The traitorous voice in the back of 
his mind that whispered of his pleasure was one he tried to ignore. But this 
other voice brought it back. 
"Thought you were running out of time," he managed to squeeze out into the 
silence that filled his cellular phone. 
"Were you hoping that this time he'd managed to kill me, Mulder?" The voice was 
scratchy, as if from fatigue, or fear, or probably both. 
"Why should I want you dead?" The sarcasm was thick, and stinging. 
"It would be counterproductive." 
"In what way?" He couldn't believe he was hearing this. After all the nightmares 
this man had given him, why shouldn't he want him dead? Except that would be one 
more victory for the Cancerman. He steadfastly refused to consider the other, 
equally disturbing dreams he had had about this man. 
"I have what you're looking for." What now? he thought, but waited for the other 
man to go on. "Proof, or at least a starting point." 
"Of what?" Mulder ventured. 
"Some of the insurance I took with me before I split. Meet me. I don't want to 
talk about this over the line." 
"When and where?" And why was he doing this? It wasn't as though he trusted the 
son of a bitch. 
"Alley behind the Gann building. Thirty minutes." The click announced the end of 
the conversation. Mulder slowly folded the phone and sat for a moment, looking 
out the window. It was dark, just before ten, and the weather was warm, almost 
steamy on this August night. Just how he wanted to spend his evening, exchanging 
information in a back alley with a man he hated, and wanted, and wished was 
dead. 
**************************************************** 
Dana Scully pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment building in time to see his 
car pull away. Damn. Now, when she really needed to talk to him, in person, away 
from the office ... just when she'd gathered her courage to finally tell him 
what she had seen. And how it had affected her. And how it was affecting their 
partnership. She had to trust him, and she had to know he trusted her. As long 
as this was between them, unspoken, unacknowledged, the extent of her unwitting 
culpability weighing her down, they would never find the ease they had had with 
one another. It had been four miserable months. It couldn't go on. She put the 
car back into gear and pulled out, carefully shadowing her partner. Whatever he 
was doing, he'd probably need backup. And when it was over, they would talk. 
**************************************************** 
A shadow detached itself from the side of the wall as Mulder cautiously picked 
his way into the dark alley. The flash of even white teeth in the darkness gave 
away the other man's position, and Mulder drew his gun. 
"Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" The light, mocking voice seemed 
to float through the darkness. 
"You are not my friend, Krycek." 
"Well, I may be, after tonight." 
"What do you have for me?" Friends? He sincerely doubted it. 
"Not while you're holding a gun. Truce, remember?" 
"I remember." Everything. "Okay," he slipped the weapon back into the holder 
clipped to his waistband. "Now. What have you got? And why give it to me?" He 
was closer now, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he could make out Alex's 
face, the wide eyes staring at him intently, an almost feral expression in them. 
His lips were pulled upward in a tight grin, and his hair fell forward across 
his brow. Mulder had a completely unexpected impulse to reach out and brush the 
lock of hair away from those dark eyes, but checked it before he made a complete 
ass of himself. 
"I want to take him down. He nearly got me this time." Alex was almost 
whispering, and Mulder found himself drawing nearer in order to hear him. This 
close, he could feel the heat radiating from the other man's body. His own body 
began to react to the memories that heat triggered, and he clenched his teeth 
against the rush of arousal. "I can't keep running. My 'insurance' is only 
buying me time. At this rate the only permanent solution is either his death ... 
or mine." He swept his eyes up to meet Mulder's, challenging him. "You may hate 
me, but I'm not in your way in your search for the truth. I can even help you. 
He never will. So make up your mind. Who would you rather see taken out of the 
game?" 
He wanted to say 'you,' but he couldn't. "Cancerman." In the dim light, he saw 
Alex nod. The younger man reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a 
manilla envelope. As Mulder reached to take it, he drew back. Mulder looked at 
him suspiciously. 
"I need something in return." Krycek's voice shook slightly. 
"What now?" He stared hard at Alex, noting the increased rate of his breathing, 
the glitter growing in his eyes. Alex reached into the envelope and drew out a 
sheet of paper. 
"Here's what I'm offering." Mulder took the paper and began to scan the 
contents, holding the page close to his face in order to read it. He didn't see 
Krycek moving closer to him, too excited by what he saw in the photocopied 
sheet. Names. Dates. Places. Forty years ago, but the beginning of the paper 
trail that would tie Cancerman directly to the human/alien cross fertilization 
experiments ... to Samantha. "There's more." Krycek's husky voice was right at 
his ear, and he started, raising his head from the paper to come face to face 
with Alex. The other man was so close he could feel his breath on his face. He 
swallowed. He really wanted these papers. 
"What do you want from me?" His voice sounded raspy, although he wasn't sure if 
it was fear or arousal. Krycek was so close now, he could see the flush in his 
cheeks, the light glistening off his moistened lips, where he had recently 
licked them. He swallowed again, more heavily. 
"Something I've given you, twice now. Turn about's fair play, after all." 
Memories burned in Mulder's mind, and he involuntarily glanced at the bulge in 
the front of Krycek's jeans. 
The two men locked glances, and Mulder swallowed a third time. Then he nodded. 
Krycek smiled, a hint of the feral showing through there as well, then took back 
the sheets and carefully shuffled them in with the rest. He put the packet back 
in his jacket, and the two men stood there for a long moment. Mulder could just 
take them and run. Except Alex would probably catch him. He could shoot Alex, 
now, and take the evidence. But he wasn't sure he could ... or even wanted to. 
Finally he admitted it to himself. He wanted this. He would never admit it to 
anyone else, and he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it at all, but he 
wanted this. 
"When we're ... you're finished. Then you'll get it." Krycek waited patiently, 
wanting Mulder to make the first move. Demanding it. Taking a deep breath, 
taking in the unique scent of musk and cologne and sweet urgency that was so 
familiar from their previous encounters, Mulder pushed Krycek gently against the 
wall and knelt gingerly in front of him. They were sheilded from the street by a 
pile of broken slats and cardboard, creating an illusion that there was no one 
else in the world, no one sharing the dark except themselves. Tentatively 
reaching out to work the zipper of Krycek's jeans down, he wasn't surprised by 
the heft of the erection behind it. His own body was hardening, and he licked 
his lips. 
"I'm not very good at this," he growled, concentrating on freeing Alex's rigid 
cock from the cotton briefs. He couldn't have looked up to save his life. Alex 
ran the fingertips of his right hand through the dense softness of Mulder's 
hair, his left hand hooking his waist band to draw it down and give the other 
man better access. "I'll let you know when you're doing it right," he managed, 
then caught his breath as Mulder wrapped his fingers around his straining penis, 
pushing the material out of the way with his other hand. Mulder was caught up in 
the stangeness of the whole situation, and his world narrowed to the hot, slick 
flesh in his hands. He took a shuddering breath, and began to stroke the shaft, 
thinking of the movements he used on himself, what gave him pleasure. As his 
fingers traced the veins, pressing firmly into the muscle then palpating the 
head with his thumb, he heard Krycek gasping above him. A single salty tear 
appeared at the slit along the top, and the hand in his hair began to urge his 
head down. Mulder went with the movement, allowing his curiousity and 
unacknowledged lust sway. He delicately licked all around the crown, wetting the 
skin with his saliva, before allowing the head to slip into his mouth. The 
slightly bitter taste of precum slicked over his tongue and he reacted 
instinctively, working his lips and tongue to spread the liquid around. Judging 
by the light panting and softly repressed moans rumbling from Krycek, he was 
doing something right. 
Having given himself up to doing this, Mulder finally shut off his mind and 
allowed his body to take over. He leaned closer to Krycek, one hand roving down 
to cup his balls, kneading them and rolling them in the sac. The other hand held 
his cock firmly, as he slid his mouth up and down the sides, licking here, 
nibbling there, as if Krycek was a lollipop and he was starving for sweets. So 
different, and yet so much the same. Alex began to buck slightly under his 
hands, and he bent to his task, covering the whole shaft with one hand, digging 
the fingers of his other hand into the soft skin and firm muscle of the hip 
under him, and concentrating on the sensitive cock head, sucking hard. 
After several moments of this, he felt the quivers begin in Krycek's legs, and 
he slipped one hand between the other man's thighs and up between his ass 
cheeks, probing for his opening and pressing firmly. His other hand wrapped 
around Alex's balls, and he rolled them from side to side in counter rhythm to 
the two finger stretching Alex's ass. Trying to finish him off, Mulder opened 
his jaw, relaxed his throat, and took Alex as deeply into his throat as he 
could, fighting the reflex to gag and concentrating on the taste and texture of 
the cock thrusting into his throat. He clamped his lips as firmly as possible 
along the shaft as Krycek increased his thrusts, allowing a hint of teeth to 
scrape at irregular intervals, eliciting whimpers from Krycek, dragging his soft 
lower lip along the underside of Alex's cock until the other man could no longer 
supress his moans. 
The triple assault was more than he could cope with, and Krycek found himself 
thrusting mindlessly into Mulder, both hands buried in the thick mop of hair, 
his head thrashing back and forth. He forced himself to look down, entranced by 
the sight of Mulder, eyes squeezed shut, going at his cock like an expert. Who 
said he was no good at this? He was a natural! Before he could complete the 
thought, he felt the undeniable build up of pressure in his balls, and tried to 
warn Mulder. But the only sounds he could force past his tight throat were 
moans. He untangled one hand long enough to nudge Mulder's cheek, and Mulder 
managed to look up at him, not breaking his rhythm in the least. Alex tried to 
gesture with his head that Mulder should pull away, but before he could, his 
orgasm hit, and he found himself pressing forward as hard as he could, shooting 
into the other man's mouth. To a surprise he could only think about afterward, 
Mulder kept his eyes locked on his own, and swallowed as fast as Krycek could 
shoot. The hard sucking around his spasming cock only made the convulsions 
stronger, and he came so hard he nearly passed out. Mulder continued to milk him 
with his fist and mouth until he was drained, leaning weakly against the wall, 
running his hands tenderly over Mulder's face and hair. He hadn't expected such 
... enthusiasm. 
Mulder didn't really want to stop. If he stopped, he'd have to get up, and face 
Krycek. And after his performance, he didn't want to do that. But when Krycek 
began to slide bonelessly against the wall, he found himself rising and 
supporting the smaller man, nestling the solid warmth against his own body, 
shaking from the aftermath of what he'd just done. Voluntarily. Without drugs, 
or really much coercion. He felt intensely confused, and aroused, and 
frightened. He licked his lips, tasting the semen there, and shivered. Alex 
raised his head, his deep green eyes meeting the open hazel eyes slightly above 
his own, and sympathized. Mulder did the same thing to him that he was now 
apparently doing to Mulder. Confused the hell out of him and made him incredibly 
hot. He gave in to a sudden need and reached up to capture Mulder's lower lip 
between his, deepening the nibble into a full kiss, sweeping his tongue into the 
agent's mouth to taste himself. Mulder allowed the contact, even leaned into it 
for a moment, then he broke away suddenly, tearing himself from the inviting 
warmth of Krycek's body, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. Alex 
watched him for a moment, then, with a decisive nod, drew the documents from his 
jacket and handed them to Mulder. 
"Here." You earned them, he nearly added, but he didn't. That would make Mulder 
feel like a whore, and that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted more, and if he 
played it right, he just might get it. 
Mulder looked at the envelope in his hand and licked his lips again. He had it, 
but at what price? He couldn't read Krycek, not now ... he couldn't bring 
himself to look at him that closely. There was a rustle of denim, and a snick of 
metal, then silence. 
"Use them well, Mulder. Get the bastard." The soft words were nearly whispered, 
and he nodded in response. When he finally gathered his courage and looked up, 
Krycek was gone. He took several deep breaths of the sultry night air, then 
shakily moved out of the alley twoard his car. Placing the precious envelope on 
the passenger seat behind him, he clenched his hands on the steering wheel and 
headed for home, still in a state of shock. 
*************************************************** 
Scully was in a state of shock as well, reeling from what she had seen. Krycek, 
showing Mulder a piece of paper, then moving in and taking the paper back. 
Mulder, with seemingly no hesitation at all, dropping to his knees and giving 
Krycek what looked to be an expert and extremely effective blow job, judging by 
the effect on Krycek. The ecstasy drawn on the man's face as he leaned against 
the wall, her partner's hands and mouth driving him insane, was burned into 
Scully's brain. A thought from an earlier unwilling voyeuristic episode swam 
through her mind ... they were both so beautiful. She was breathing in short 
pants, her fists clenched, her eyes darting wildly from side to side. One she 
loved. One she hated. And she wanted both. Stepping carefully from the nest of 
wood and cardboard that had covered her, she almost ran to her car. She had to 
get to Mulder. Now. 
****************************************************** 
He didn't bother to turn on the lights, just sat in the darkness lit by the 
fishtank. His mind was running in crazed circles, like a fox caught in a trap. 
He laughed out loud at the unintentional pun, and dropped his head back onto the 
couch. His mind was insisting on being heard, and he sighed and let it have it's 
say. 
He was crazy. Certifiable. Should be shot, or locked up for his own safety, or 
something equally drastic. Because he hated Alex Krycek to depths he had seldom 
hated anyone, and he wanted him just as deeply. He toed off his shoes, then 
pulled off his socks and shirt, trying to cool down. As usual, his air 
conditioner was on the fritz, and equally as usual, he hadn't gotten around to 
calling the landlord about fixing it. The August heat, combined with the 
thoughts of his recent activities and his own unsatisfied arousal, were making 
his body temperature skyrocket. 
"Fuck it," he growled to the fish. Wiggling out of his jeans and shorts, he 
tossed them carelessly beside the couch. Feeling slightly cooler, he collapsed 
back onto the worn cushions, debated on whether to turn on the tv, thought about 
the tape currently in his vcr, and swore again. His head dropped back to the 
soft cushion and his hands began to skim over his body as his mind replayed what 
he had done to Alex Krycek. As the scene began to unfold with eidectic 
perfection behind his eyelids, his hands went directly to his rigid cock, and he 
began to stroke himself firmly. The taste, the scent, the strangled cries he had 
incited earlier came back to him, and his own muted groans began to fill the 
room. Caught up in the sensations radiating from his hands on his cock, he 
didn't hear the key snick in the lock or the gentle swish of the door opening. 
Scully closed the door as quietly as she had opened it, her attention completely 
caught up in the unmistakable sounds of her partner's voice moaning in pleasure. 
Forgetting to set the security chain, she dropped her purse on the floor, moving 
silently across the thin carpet to the living room, entranced at the sight that 
met her eyes. Mulder lay in splendid abandon, one long leg splayed out along the 
front of the couch, the other bent slightly, heel digging into the cushion. He 
was completely naked, and she drank in the sight of his flushed, sweating skin, 
bunched muscles in his chest, arms, thighs, his head thrown back and the tendons 
showing in his arched throat. His nipples were erect, and the sinewy muscles 
along his arms quivered with the force of his thrusting hands. His fingers were 
wrapped around his straining cock, almost purple with the force of his arousal, 
so close to bursting. His flesh was slick with ejaculate, and she could see by 
the rapid pounding that he was close to coming. The moans were almost continuous 
now, low, growly, distinctly Mulder. She had always wondered if he was a 
screamer. As he spilled over the edge, come soaking his hands and spilling over 
onto the tops of his thighs, she had her answer. She hoped his neighbors were 
sound sleepers. 
Eyes still shut, feeling some relief from the pressure built up earlier in the 
evening but still flushed with arousal, he was jolted from his thoughts by the 
completely unexpected sensation of a tongue lapping at the base of his cock. He 
jolted upright, or tried, but she followed him, and he stared in shock at the 
burnished red hair of his partner, kneeling beside the couch and busily licking 
up the puddles of semen along his groin and the soft skin of his inner thighs. 
His cock stirred, and he finally managed a croaked question. 
"Scully?" God. That felt incredible. Now, here was someone who knew what to do 
with her tongue. He tried to push her away, or that's what he told himself, but 
she felt so incredibly good that he found himself pushing up toward her questing 
mouth. 
"Mmph?" She sounded preoccupied, and didn't bother stopping to look up at him. 
His hand slipped away from her hair, down along her shoulder, coming to rest on 
her collarbone before giving in to temptation and sliding down to cup her 
breast. She edged closer to the couch, pushing the weight of her breast further 
into his hand, and he felt the hard nub of her nipple butting into his palm. Her 
pace increased, licking all the way around his cock, lifting his sac with her 
fingertip then cleaning under it with her agile tongue. Her hands worked their 
way under his hips, cupping his ass and urging him closer. Finally, he couldn't 
stand it any longer. He had to have more. 
Gritting his teeth, he pulled her head away from his crotch. She fought him at 
first, then gave ground, allowing herself to be moved. Before she quite caught 
her breath, he gripped the hem of her tee shirt and stripped it efficiently off, 
biting back a moan at the sight of the pale skin filling the white lace bra. He 
could see her nipples straining against the material, and he curled over, 
drawing her over him in order to nibble them delicately through the material. 
She groaned in response and raked her nails down his chest, returning the 
delicious torture. 
As he continued to work on her breasts, chaffing the tender skin through the 
material, she pushed off her shorts, frantically kicking off her sandals. She 
had waited four years for this, and she wasn't waiting a second longer than she 
had to, now that they were finally naked together. Something to thank the rat 
bastard for, she thought muzzily, then gasped as Mulder finally flicked the 
clasp to her bra and began to knead her bare breasts. She pushed him further 
back onto the couch, her small, strong hands pushing at his shoulders until he 
was prone. Straddling his waist, she rubbed her inner thighs against his soft 
skin, luxuriating in the feeling of his mouth on her breasts, letting the flow 
build before finally allowing her now wet cunt to rub against his stomach. He 
thrust up in response, the tip of his erection prodding against her ass, and she 
reluctantly sat up, pulling her nipple from his teeth. He held on for a little 
while, stretching the flesh delightfully, before letting her get away. 
"Sometimes being short sucks," she hissed, and he grinned at her. The grin was 
wiped away as she lifted herself and reached between them the grasp his cock 
firmly, pulling it to her opening and very carefully guiding it into her. It had 
been awhile, and even as wet as she was, it was a tight fit. He held himself as 
rigid as possible, trying to control the urge to roll her over onto the floor 
and plunge into her. As the tight heat enveloped him slowly, inch at a time, he 
tossed his head back and bit at his lip. She rocked gently, getting the tip in, 
then sliding a little further down the shaft with each rock, letting gravity do 
some of the work, mentally congratulating Mulder on his restraint. Of course, 
the fact that he'd just jerked himself off was undoubtedly helping, she grinned 
to herself. With one final push, forcing a gasp out of both of them, she took 
all of him in. 
He was in hell, and heaven, all at the same time. The anticipation of movement 
was surely going to kill him, and the wet, tight heat clinging to him like a 
second skin felt better than anything he could remember, even with his memory. 
She slowly folded over onto him, with his cock buried deep inside her, and 
stretched her mouth toward his ear. "Don't just lay there, Mulder. Fuck me." The 
unexpected command broke his control, and he began to thrust, slowly at first, 
then gradually building speed. Her eyes were locked with his, and the heat 
radiated between them. Her hands roamed over his chest, testing the muscle, 
tweaking his nipples, caressing his arms, his throat, his face. His hands also 
explored, teasing her nipples, rounding her hip to squeeze her ass, finally 
drawing down between their driving bodies to seek out her clit. As he neared his 
climax, he pincered her clit between two strong fingers, frigging it in time to 
their thrusts. The precise movements on her delicate flesh jolted through her, 
and she threw her head back, sighing loudly as her body clenched around his in 
orgasm. The milking sensations of her internal muscles sent an answering orgasm 
ripping through his body, only he was much louder than she, cutting loose with a 
rasping scream as she collapsed on top of him. 
As the humid breeze from the open window washed over the sweaty bodies entwined 
on the couch, Mulder wondered what the hell he was supposed to say now. Before 
he got the chance, she spoke, her words half muffled by the pressure of her face 
against his chest. 
"We have to talk." 
Did they ever, he thought, but he waited for her to continue. 
"I saw you." She wouldn't -- couldn't look at him. "In the alley." His body 
jerked underneath her, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, not letting 
him withdraw. "It wasn't the first time, Mulder. When Krycek kidnapped me, and 
you came to rescue me." Her words started to come faster as she felt his body 
grow rigid under her, either from shock or horror, she wasn't sure which. "He 
did put me in the little room, as I told you, and I couldn't get out, but I 
didn't tell you that he turned on a monitor before he left. It was showing the 
room that you were in. I heard everything, Mulder." She gulped and rushed on. "I 
saw everything. He told me that he wanted to show me, and that you wouldn't have 
a clue. I saw him inject you, saw your reaction. I ... saw you having sex with 
him ... having sex with each other." 
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was flat, and dead. 
"Because I didn't know what to say. I was half hoping you would talk to me, and 
half hoping you wouldn't." 
He gripped her shoulders and pulled her gently up so that he could see her face. 
"Why not, Scully?" 
She stared at him for a long moment, embarrassment and arousal warring in her 
eyes. "I was ... it was ... the two of you ... god, Mulder, you were both so 
beautiful!" She pulled from his grip and leaned down, kissing him voraciously, 
her tongue capturing his full lower lip before sweeping inside. He arched up 
into the kiss, then broke it off. Staring at her in fascination, he mused, "I do 
have a bed, you know. And it'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable than this 
couch." She grinned and slid off of him, wincing as seldom used muscles 
protested the movement. Taking her hand, he levered himself off the couch and 
followed her into the bedroom. 
A shadow watched from the doorway, smiling to himself. This situation had 
definite possibilities. He waited to hear the soft sounds of lovemaking begin to 
issue from the rear room, then let himself back out the front door, carefully 
locking it behind him with the same pick he had used to get in. 
*************************************************** 
In a well equipped dark room in an elegant Georgetown home, a quiet, powerful 
man looked on as the prints he had paid for developed slowly in the solution. 
His spies had finally managed to catch another of Mulder's sources, and he was 
very interested in seeing the identity of the man who was feeding Mulder 
information. He needed to know, in order to control that flow of information, 
for Mulder was no use to him unless he could be controlled. As the images 
developed, an unusual expression of surprise tightened the normally calm, dark 
features. His eyes narrowed, glittering in the dim light, and a cold smile 
tilted the corner of his mouth. It would appear that Agent Krycek had not left 
the picture after all, contrary to the reports of his demise. And it would also 
appear that Agent Mulder had a somewhat more intimate relationship with Mr. 
Krycek than he had previously thought. The man known as X traced his lips with 
the tip of his index finger, eyes riveted to the images taken from the dark 
alley, by a watcher hidden in the shadows of a nearby roof. 
This situation had distinct possibilities. He could always use a proven foot 
soldier, and as for Mulder ... the smile grew. Possibilities, indeed. 
**************************finis*******************