R6-Jo-p1

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Washington D.C.
Monday, August 9
8:00 a.m.

Agent Fred Stark turned sideways to admire his stocky physique in the bathroom mirror. His six foot two inch frame was stocky and large boned. His frame was disproportionately long, and he reminded people of a bulldog with his thick neck and short legs. He sucked in his slight gut and patted his hard stomach. Then his hand crept down to his short, fat cock. It wasn't much in length only five inches but he was proud of its impressive four-inch girth. "Foxy baby, you will feel this sucker when I slam it home into your tight little ass," he growled huskily, imagining Mulder with his long legs wantonly spread and his hips raised as he waited eagerly to be filled by Stark's thick cock.

Stark grinned, enjoying the fantasy of Mulder lying ready and willing in his bed for his sole enjoyment. He had not been able to get the pretty agent out of his mind. Mulder had become an obsession with him. Stark wanted Mulder so badly that his cock remained perpetually hard as his thoughts were forever on him. Even at work he would find himself daydreaming about riding the beauty hard from behind coming again and again as Mulder's tight anus clenched and milked his cock like a pump. He knew from Bureau gossip that Mulder was a loner and never dated, it was even rumored that he slept on his couch.

"What a waste," Stark muttered, thinking about Mulder all alone at night. "A beautiful body like that should be warming my bed, not sleeping alone on some cold couch." He spread shaving cream over his stubbled chin. He had considered not shaving at all during his impromptu vacation, but he wanted to feel his smooth cheek rubbing against Mulder's soft flesh as he claimed those perfect lips with his. Mulder lips were his second fixation right after Mulder's round butt. The way it looked draped in those expensive pants, he was dying to unwrap that tight little package and see if it lived up to his imagination.

He was driving down to North Carolina today and had a room booked at the Moon Dust Motel in Cape Town. He'd planned on doing a little fishing in the Cape Fear River and then a little fishing for a certain hazel-eyed beauty on land. He was determined to have Mulder one way or another. Stark was certain Mulder only needed someone to take the initiative and once he experienced the joy of having a cock up that tight virgin ass he'd want more.

Stark stepped away from the mirror to admire himself. "God, you are one handsome fucker Freddie," he said to his reflection. "Foxy will thank his lucky stars the day I walked into his life, and once Foxy boy experiences what me and little Freddie have in store for him, he'll think he's died and gone to heaven," he purred, stroking little Freddie until it was rock hard. He proceeded to jerk off while fantasizing about Mulder thanking him for giving him the best reaming of his life.

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Spender Plantation
Monday, August 9
10:00 a.m.

The grinding of a car engine shattered the peaceful serenity of the countryside. It didn't matter though, the only two *living* people around to hear and be annoyed by it were in the car. "Mulder, let's try the station wagon," Scully said exasperatedly. She was sitting next to him in the passenger seat of their Bureau issued car as Mulder tried again to start it to no avail.

He pounded his fist angrily on the steering wheel. In the light of morning, Mulder was desperate to get away from the old manor house. He couldn't understand why he had objected to Scully's and Walter's adamant demand that they stay at a motel in town. Vague flashes of memories had been creeping into his conscious mind all morning, of himself willingly spreading his legs for a long dead lover, his heart fluttered nervously as he tried to force those images away. "You'd think that Agent Piquet would have had this car checked out before dropping it off to us," Mulder growled, looking over at the canary yellow, station wagon parked next to the stables. He sighed. That car didn't do much for their macho FBI image but at least it was a means to leave this place. "Okay, Scully, but you can drive it," he said, climbing out of the Ford Taurus he flipped the trunk release. "I'll get our bags."

Scully climbed into the old station wagon and adjusted the seat and rearview mirror. When she turned the key the engine roared to life and suddenly flames leapt out from underneath the car's hood. "Shit," she gasped and tried to open the car door but it wouldn't budge. She tried the other door and it was tightly closed, too.

Mulder dropped their bags and raced over to the station wagon, trying all the doors including the back gate as the flames spread, but it was like they had been soldered shut. Scully had scampered into the backseat and was choking as the wagon filled with smoke. Mulder realized there wasn't much time to get his partner out. He quickly rushed into the stable to find something to break out a window. A harsh voice sounded next to his ear.

"She was taking you away from me, for that she deserves to die."

Mulder whirled around looking for the source of the voice. "No! Please, don't do this! Let her out!" he cried, getting no response. He saw a crowbar in a pile of old wood, grabbing it he rushed back outside. He could barely see his partner in the smoked filled interior now.

"Stay with me, Beloved," the voice purred.

Mulder ignored it as he hit the back window of the wagon with the crowbar, again, and again.

"I'll let her live if you promise to stay with me, my Fox."

"Please, don't kill her. I'll do anything you want," Mulder cried desperately as the iron bar bounced uselessly off the glass window. Flames were engulfing half the wagon now and the heat was becoming too intense for him to …

It was like time reversed itself, Mulder found himself standing next to the Taurus with their suitcases in his hands.

"Earth to, Mulder," Scully shouted from the driver's side window of the station wagon, she stared at her partner who seemed to be in a daze.

Mulder swallowed as his eyes traveled over the station wagon, not a scorch mark on it, no sign at all that it had ever been on fire.

"Remember your promise, beloved," the voice whispered.

Mulder got his legs to move and walked over to the back of the station wagon, opening the rear gate he placed the suitcases inside. "Scully, I forgot something inside. I'll be right back," he said absently.

"Mulder, if you're not back in five minutes I'm coming in after you," Scully warned.

"Don't worry, Scully, it will only take me a few minutes," he said, slamming the wagon's gate closed.

Once inside and out of Scully's sight and hearing, Mulder growled, "Okay, Alexander, or whoever the hell you are, show yourself!"

Mulder smelled the sweet fragrance of cinnamon first before he felt the arms wrapping around his body. A cold steel hook caressed across his cheek over his mole then circled his lips as the body behind him solidified. "You know perfectly well who I am, Fox."

"If you hurt one hair on Scully's head … "

"She's safe as long as you stay with me," Alexander said.

"Al … Alex, I can't stay here. My boss wants me to stay at a motel in town." Mulder couldn't help the fearful trembles that ran through his body as he felt a large bulge pressing into his ass.

"No! I forbid you to leave me."

The arms around his body tightened painfully. "Please, my boss will make me go back to D.C. if I disobey him," Mulder argued anxiously. He wondered what would happen if they drove to the nearest airport and caught the first flight back to D.C.

Mulder was spun roughly around to face Alexander, he gazed fearfully into a pair angry green eyes set within an angelic face that looked so much like Krycek that he could have been his twin. Except that Krycek's face wasn't semitransparent.

"Fox, don't deceive yourself by thinking distance can keep us apart!" Alexander growled as the sharp point of his hooked hand trailed down the soft skin of Mulder's throat. The cold steel tip sent violent shivers throughout Mulder's body as it passed over his jugular vein. Alexander stopped just under the vein and pressed its tip into the tender flesh until it broke the surface then greedily bent to lap at the blood that pooled there. He looked up from the wound into Mulder's fearful eyes. "Very well, beloved, go into town. But I expect you back here each evening to share my bed," he ordered, licking the delicious tasting blood from his lips. He then claimed Mulder's lips possessively and shared the metallic taste with him, before he finally broke the kiss, and vanished, Mulder felt like his very soul had been sucked out of his body.

Scully was about to get out of the wagon and go in search of her wayward partner when the front door of the manor house opened and he stepped out. She watched as he fumbled in his pocket for his sunglasses, then spent a moment fiddling with his watch, if she didn't know better she would believe he was stalling.

Mulder took deep shaky breaths; he was feeling sick to his stomach and his heart was racing. He couldn't allow Scully see him like this. Then he felt an icy hand travel up his spine.

A faint whisper, "Tonight."

Mulder jerked away from the door and walked quickly down the stairs leading off the porch. Scully had pulled the station wagon up, so he didn't have too many steps to walk on his shaky legs.

"Mulder, are you all right?" she asked when he slid into the front seat, and she noted how deathly pale his face.

"I'm fine. I just ran up two flights of stair so I'm a little winded. Just get us out of here please, Scully."

She pulled the car onto the long driveway and headed for the main road. She glanced over at her partner's pale face and frowned, reaching out she touched the side of his throat. "Mulder, you're bleeding."

Mulder's hand quickly covered the small cut. "It's nothing, Scully. I ah … had a pimple and I must have picked at it too much."

Scully didn't get a good enough look at the wound to know if he was being truthful or not. She couldn't recall ever seeing a pimple or zit on her partner. He had the type of skin that most men and women would kill for. "Mulder, I want to put some antiseptic on that sore before it becomes infected."

"That's okay, Scully, I can do it, just pay attention to the road," he said quickly reaching over the backseat to where she had deposited her doctor's kit and purse. He made sure that his body was turned so she couldn't get a good look at the small cut.

Scully had to keep her attention on the sharp winding road, when she really wanted to check out what her partner was up to. She was now sure from his evasive behavior that he had lied to her. She felt certain that something inside that house had caused that wound on his neck. Well at least they were away from that place, she thought, turning on the radio she tried to relax.

Mulder applied a small bandage over that cut, his hands shaking slightly. Okay, so now what? He pondered and started to go over his options. He couldn't risk Scully's life by not going back to the plantation tonight. He couldn't chance what Alexander would do if they fled back to D.C. He really wasn't certain if Alexander could or could not travel distances. Somehow he doubted it, but it wasn't worth risking Scully's life to test his theory. Besides they had a killer to catch. He touched the bandage at his throat, knowing exactly who was responsible for the deaths at the manor house. He recalled that two of the victims had their throats ripped out by a sharp metal object. From the pointed entrance wound and how the flesh was torn the coroner had suggested a meat hook as the possible weapon. But, another killer or killers were responsible for the Cape Fear River murders the MO was completely different, but his gut was telling him that there was a connection between those murders and Alexander. He needed to fill in the blanks and at the same time search for a way to deal with Alexander's spirit. He couldn't allow a homicidal ghost to go around killing people.

His gut heaved at the thought of going back there tonight. "Ah, Scully, pull the car over," he groaned, as he felt himself becoming physically ill. She stopped the car just in time as he jerked open the door and leaned out, vomiting on the gravel shoulder.

Scully felt Mulder's forehead after he leaned back against the seat. "You don't feel warm," she said, handing Mulder the bottle of water from the bag of snacks she had taken from the manor house.

"It's only nerves, Scully," he confessed. Then rinsed his mouth out with the water and leaned back out the door and spit it into the dirt.

When he leaned back in and closed the door, Scully said, "We're almost to town. Mulder, when we get to the motel I want you to take a nap." She pulled the station wagon back onto the road.

"But, Mom, I'm not tired," he whined in his best six year old imitation.

"Watch it, Mulder, or you'll be going without dessert when we stop for lunch later," Scully quipped.

"No fair, Scully, you ate all of the French silk pie by yourself last time."

He hated to admit it but he really was tired and taking an unmolested nap sounded really good to him. As their car drove through town neither agent noticed the eyes watching them from almost every window on main street. He sighed as Scully pulled into the Moon Dust Motel's full parking lot. "I wonder how Skinner was able to get us rooms here? I thought it was full until the end of August."

"Skinner said, the motel's manager told him they had two cancellations and were able to get us rooms 101 and 129," Scully informed him parking in front of the office that was right next to room 101.

The motel was two stories and Mulder noticed that room 129 was the very last room on the ground level as you pulled in off the road, it was at the opposite end from room 101. Well that should make sneaking away tonight easier, he thought sadly.

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From the window of room 229 Alex Krycek watched Mulder and Scully as they entered the motel's office. His room was directly over room 129. He had bugged the motel's telephone the minute he checked in yesterday and had listened in on the call from Skinner at eight o'clock this morning. It wasn't much of a guess to know that Mulder would choose to stay in room 129, leaving Scully the more secure room by the brightly lit motel's office. He immediately went down to the office and asked to change rooms, having the manager move the person staying in room 229. It was easy after listening in on several phone conversations he had learned that the townspeople occupied all the other vacant rooms and only five rooms were occupied by actual paying customers who called ahead for reservations. Krycek had spent the last two hours planting surveillance equipment inside room 129. He installed two video cameras, one in the bathroom and the other in the light fixture directly over the bed.

He stood watching as the agents came back out of the office and Mulder opened the rear gate of the station wagon and retrieved their luggage. He stood arguing with Scully for a few minutes, before she finally gave in and headed to room 101 while Mulder walked to farthest room and entered the room below his.

Krycek flipped on the video monitor and watched as Mulder dropped his bag on a chair and started to shed his clothing. Mulder froze suddenly, standing clad only in his boxers and an undershirt he sank to the floor next to the bed as bitter sobs racked his body and he started shaking uncontrollably. His arms were wrapped around his midsection while his face was buried into the blanket covering the hard mattress. "Oh God, oh God, oh God..." he muttered over and over.

After several minutes Krycek couldn't take it any longer, he was about to go down to Mulder when the agent suddenly pulled himself together. He heard Mulder's husky voice clearly through the speakers. "Get a fucking grip on yourself, Fox, you're not going to let a damn ghost phyche you out."

Krycek growled at the monitor, "Fox is it? You wouldn't let me call you Fox, but that's how you refer to yourself? When your old man gives you to me I'm going to have your name changed to be only Fox, none of this Mulder crap! After all you are not a Mulder. You will belong to me, Fox, and no one else."

Krycek watched as Mulder rose and staggered into the bathroom. The camera lens was hidden inside the over head air vent. Krycek had it angled toward the bathtub and toilet. He cursed as he caught only glimpses of Mulder's arm as the agent stood by the sink and kicked himself for not installing two cameras in the bathroom or if he had had more time placing this one so it took in the whole room. Finally Mulder's naked body came into view as the beautiful man turned on the shower and stepped under its spray. Krycek sighed, looking at those taut ivory buttocks and those long, toned runner's legs. Mulder had been the best fuck he'd ever had in his life and the only man he actually enjoyed kissing. Damn he wanted him back so badly. He was tempted to go down there and jump his bones then and there.

If the shower wouldn't destroy his disguise he would do it in a minute, but he couldn't chance his identity being discovered by the townspeople. He recalled the one time he had been here with his parents when he was a young teenager, and the fun he had had with his cousins exploring the Spender Plantation grounds. At night the adults had told stories around a bonfire about the curse and Alexander. Those stories still sent shivers up his spine. His cousins had dared him to go inside the old manor house at night, and being full of big city bravado he couldn't let his country cousins know that he was scared. He would never forget the coldness or tomb like quiet of the place as he wandered slowly through the rooms with only a flashlight to light his way. He stopped in one room when his flashlight had fallen on a portrait of a young frail looking man with full lips and a mole on his cheek. He stood transfixed staring at the painting knowing immediately that this was Fox Spender from the ghost stories his uncles and told last night. With embarrassment he remembered being yanked off his feet by as a cold dead hand that wrapped its fingers around his throat lifting him until he was staring eye-to-eye with the angry glowing eyes of the elder Spender's ghost. He had wet his pants and warm urine ran down his leg dripping onto the hardwood floor as he dangled from the ghost's clawed hand.

"He will never be yours, gypsy scum!" the ghost had hissed, it's foul breath had smelled of rotten corpses, making him gag.

At that moment he thought for sure that he would be killed as the grip on his throat tightened. Then the ghostly apparition vanished and he was dropped on his ass, looking up from the floor he saw a tall, dark haired man dressed in old-fashioned clothing staring thoughtfully at him before he too vanished into thin air. Krycek remembered that face to this day, he saw it every time he looked in a mirror. He had wasted no time fleeing from that house and vowed never to set foot in it again.

He was so wrapped up in his memories that he had missed Mulder getting out of the shower. The agent was now dressed in sweats and sleeping on top of the covers on the bed. He spent a few more minutes just watching Mulder sleep before going into the bathroom to check his disguise. The wig and beard were still firmly in place but the fake nose needed a little touching up. It was a little hard to see through the brown contact lenses as he applied some foundation to conceal the edges of the fake nose. He stood back and admired the job he'd done, he doubted that even his own mother would recognize him. Krycek decided to walk over to the diner for lunch and see if he could pick up any town gossip.

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Nicole's turn!