Now Krycek rolled off, pulling free and collapsing beside him, and Mulder felt like a bottle whose cork had been popped as a small amount of coconut oil and a flood of merman semen flowed out of his body. "So this is what Johny Cash meant when he sang of his ‘Burning Ring of Fire’?"
On shaking arms and legs he crawled down to the water until he was waist high. He could feel the salt water flooding into his own body, something he’d never felt before. But then he’d never been opened up like this before. The cold water filled him up, a weird and alien sensation.
Krycek stirred and slowly started to drag himself down towards Mulder. Awkwardly, and slightly on his side, as if unwilling to let his obviously over-sensitised genitals touch the sand.
"Hey, guy, you don’t wanna get into this water just yet," Mulder warned as nature took its course. "Just give it a few minutes for the waves to do their job."
Whether he understood or not, Krycek made no effort to enter the water, but rolled around on the sand. Like a large, well fed cat in front of a fire, Krycek rubbed his back on the warm white sands, belly to the sun, contented, satisfied. A thin stream of semen dribbled across his hips and fell to the beach.
Mulder laughed at the lazy fish and hauled himself out to stand above Krycek, shaking cold water drops onto over heated skin.
Too exhausted to make much of a protest, Krycek curled up his tail, slapping Mulder very gently with soft fins that slipped over Mulder’s calves, sticking slightly before Krycek flopped down flat again.
Mulder straddled his body, squatting down and putting his hands on Krycek’s chest. He found he loved the difference in textures between the satin perfect skin and the feather silk of the blue-green scales, and he indulged that, rubbing his inner thighs over both, bending to lick at the demarcation line, delving his tongue into Krycek’s navel.
Krycek lay back – totally relaxed or too exhausted to move, Mulder couldn’t tell which – with his hands curved softly by his head, gazing up at Mulder with a completely vacuous expression, mouth open, eyes half closed.
"You look well and truly fucked, my pretty friend," Mulder smiled, settling himself comfortably across Krycek’s body. He took his own penis between his fingers. Still half hopeful for a second climax it throbbed slightly as he trailed the head over Krycek’s body, oozing forward, anointing the merman’s tiny pink nipples with precum. He thought they looked like little pink petals touched with drew. He inched up a little further, "Look." Mulder held his penis where Krycek could see the red patches of sand rub. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is?"
A small pointed tongue peeked out and lapped delicately at the side of Mulder’s penis. Holding it like an offering, Mulder rubbed it over Krycek’s lips, enjoying the gentle soothing strokes of the merman’s tongue. Over, round, investigating the slit, smoothing over the spongy head.
"I’d put it in your mouth if I could believe you wouldn’t bite me, shark tooth," he said, moving his penis over Krycek’s face. He trailed across the perfect high cheekbones, back down the berry lips, his cock twitching at every little flickering tongue stroke. His ass was sore and tired from the best fuck of his life, but his cock was eagerly exploring the smooth skin below. No stubble, smoother than any human, and as the salt water was licked away, the discomfort of the sand burn started to fade.
He held his cock harder against the side of Krycek’s face, rubbing himself over the cool skin, the head of his cock slipping over the smooth hair-like membranes, down again and under Krycek’s jaw. Krycek turned his head, trapping Mulder’s cock against his own shoulder and Mulder started to thrust into the soft, smooth channel, lubricated with his own juices and merman saliva.
He caressed the merman’s face, murmuring soft encouragements to his friend as he thrust his penis in the slick tunnel provided, touching Krycek’s tongue with his fingers whenever it flickered out.
He sighed and groaned, one finger in Krycek’s mouth as he came, splattering his seed down the merman’s neck, into the fins that lay across the sand, his white semen dull jewels against the silver-tipped green ribbons.
Crawling backwards down Krycek’s body he left a sticky trail. "You’re drying out, pretty baby." Krycek’s fins were dulling in the sun. Mulder licked up his own mess, lapping contentedly at Krycek’s face, ears, and traced wet patterns along the trailing fins, watching his own saliva catch the sunlight before drying.
"Time to get wet, come on." He grabbed Krycek’s hands and started to drag him back into the water. Krycek lay on his back, completely disinterested in helping. "Oh, you big lump, lend a fin, will you." He managed to get the merman into water a few inches deep, and watched as the water moistened the over-dried scales.
"Well, not that I’m planning on loving and leaving you, but I think I’d better phone the Centre. They are going to be panicking by now. I don’t want them using the tracker to find you here. I’ll be back down soon."
The phone was already ringing when Mulder trudged wet footprints inside. The phone was under an old armchair, adrift in a miniature sand dune. He made a mental note not to vacuum some time as he hauled the phone out by its cord. He couldn’t remember why the phone was sticky. It had been months since he’d phoned a sex chat line.
"Hi, Mulder, it’s me."
"What can I do you for, Scully?" he said, unoriginally.
"He’s gone, Mulder. He called for a couple of days, then he disappeared. He’s left the Centre."
"He called? Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?"
"I wasn’t phoning you just for that. Aren’t you worried about his leaving?"
"That’s why we installed the gate, Scully, remember?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"You’re awfully calm about this, Mulder."
Caught.
"We expected him to leave, I’ve been ready for this for a long time. I suspected he might leave if I was no longer at the Centre. You and I both discussed the possibility," that wasn’t a lie.
"Do you think he’ll come back?"
"Probably," if I do...
"Um, Scully..."
"Yes, Mulder?"
"I... if he’s not going to be in the Centre, I might take a few more days. In fact," Mulder felt his story picking up energy, "I might pack up the boat, go out for a while. Hey, I could track him, if you like..?"
"Perhaps that’s not a good idea, Mulder. It might be best for him to go back to his own pod now. He might come back sometime, but it’s best to let him go."
"Sure, you’re probably right. But I think I’ll go out anyway. I need time, time to get my head on straight."
"Okay, Mulder. Your job will be waiting for you when you get back. There’s enough data here to keep you happy for years. You... you have a good time, okay?"
"Okay, and... thanks. I’ll stay in contact." That wasn’t going to hold her long. Her suspicions would be ticking over by the time he hung up. But she wasn’t the fish police. She had no control over him outside of the Centre and she couldn’t control a wild animal.
Mulder started getting stuff together. The boat was already equipped like a miniature survival station. He’d spent months out on her previously, either searching for signs of homo-aquarius, or just searching for himself. Now he needed to load up fresh supplies and the tracking equipment he’d always kept here anyway.
He had made a good start on emptying the fridge when he heard the noise. Loud crashes, the door sounded like it was being torn off its hinges, thumps, glass smashing, furniture being tossed aside and splintering like drift wood, the drag of something very heavy.
He grabbed a meat clever, edged his way towards the sound. If it was someone after the merman, he wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself or Krycek.
"Hyaa!!!" he launched himself into the room, taking up a classic karate stance, to be confronted by the sight that would have greeted those dumb-ass teenagers before they were speared.
Krycek rattled all the fully extended spines, deadly, dangerous, lips pulled back to reveal savage sharp teeth, hands up and claws poised to strike.
"Hey, hey there," Mulder placed the cleaver carefully on the floor, "It’s just me, didn’t mean to startle you. Although you sure gave me one hell of a shock." Mulder kept his voice soothing, level, even. Eventually the merman calmed, lowering himself down to the sandy carpet.
"Jeez, Krycek, look what you’ve done to my house!" The door swung on its hinges, claw marks visible, although it would have taken the strength of the tail to burst it in like that. Even the television had been smashed in, as Krycek had simply tossed furniture out of his way as he’d come in through the mess. Mulder pulled a hard backed chair out of the television. "And I was planning our honeymoon, too!"
He sighed deeply, hands on hips. He couldn’t be angry at the merman though, the way it glared at him reproachfully, Mulder knew exactly what it was feeling. Abandoned. Twice.
"Okay, okay, we can deal with this." Mulder pulled over his executive office chair. The leather was cracked and peeling, but it had been good quality once, large and sturdy. "Come here, you." He slipped his arms around the merman, hauling him by his armpits until he was settled on the chair, his tail awkwardly thrust out in front. "Now, wherever I go, you can come with me." As Mulder worked around the house, picking up his tracking equipment and cameras, and as he moved from room to room, he wheeled the merman along with him. Krycek was most perturbed by the movement, grabbing onto Mulder for dear life each time he was moved, his eyes wide. But he allowed it, and he seemed, in a way, content, as he was allowed to watch Mulder the entire time.
"Get your fingers out of that," Mulder snapped as Krycek reached for his pet goldfish. "They are coming with us anyway, don’t you dare eat them." Krycek looked up at him, a perfect ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth’ expression on his face. "Hmmm... just watch it, fish breath," Mulder chastised him, humour in his voice, tapping Krycek on the tip of his up-turned nose. "Not snacks, you understand? Not! Snacks!"
Mulder made several trips down to the boat, heaving boxes and equipment, quite content to have his work load increased by having to haul the now wheeled-merman along with him. From the veranda, down the dock, to the boat. As the trips went on, Krycek became less fearful of this mode of transport, although he certainly never let go of Mulder’s forearm. Tiny claw imprints showed white on Mulder’s tanned skin.
"Well, that’s about it, my friend." Mulder looked back at the house, wondering if he should leave it like that, with the back door torn off its hinges. But if someone wanted to burgle the place, no door would stand in their way, and there was little of value there, nothing that Mulder valued anyway.
Merman, desk chair, and himself, were the last things he loaded on. He tied the chair to the side of the boat – who knew when you might need an office chair out on the high seas. He radioed in his projected route, wondering if he’d stick to anything like it. But if he didn’t give the authorities notification of his plans (false or otherwise), they’d be looking for him by the end of the day.
"Do you want to sail with me, or do you want to go for a swim?"
The merman flopped on the deck, cautiously investigating the new area, and was calm until Mulder started up the engine. The sudden change to threat mode, with all fins bristling like a hedgehog and claws destroying the highly polished deck, had Mulder violently chastising himself.
"I’m sorry, sweetheart!" he apologised profusely, stroking his friend’s back, "I forgot. Jeez, I didn’t even think." Of course Krycek would freak at the boat engine. It was a boat that had sliced him up in the first place, and Mulder could only guess at the number of other boat engine accidents Krycek had probably witnessed during his watery lifetime.
"Er... we could have a problem here, friend. This boat has sails, but they are only meant for emergencies, not long voyages. I mean, we won’t make very fast progress anywhere if we..."
Pause.
Bristle.
Sigh.
"Okay. Sails it is."
-oo0oo-
Two days. Well, at least I’m working on my tan, Mulder thought brightly. (Almost as brightly as the horrendous Hawaiian shirt he had slipped on to avoid more sunburn.) But he was worried about Krycek. In two days the animal had refused to go into the ocean. He would carve up the deck when Mulder turned the engines on, and otherwise just drag himself about, investigating the boat. Mulder would throw a bucket or two of the sea water over him now and then, to keep him from completely drying out – not sure if this was really needed, but not taking a chance. He’d also been somewhat chagrined to find out if he went swimming, the merman would reach in and haul him out again, usually by the hair.
There were no sharks. Mulder checked the radar religiously. No whales, not even large tuna. He could not work out why Krycek seemed so spooked by the ocean. Or perhaps, Mulder felt a small guilty pang, he had the idea if he left the boat Mulder would abandon him again. Either way, it wasn’t helping Mulder at all.
He looked at all the expensive equipment he’d loaded. The idea of tracking Krycek back to his pod, getting some records of the group, had seemed a wonderful one at the time. But if Krycek was only content to float about on the high seas in a boat, there was no way they would be able to find anything at all. There was the temptation to simply pick the fish up and throw him into the sea. Perhaps, in high dudgeon, Krycek would take off and go for a swim in some useful direction. But Mulder couldn’t find it in himself to be that thoughtless... yet.
He sat on the back board of his boat, feet dangling into the water. He could lose himself here, lose himself in the deep blue. The ocean seemed bottomless; certainly no human could plumb the depths, not even with specialist equipment. He wondered if the merman would be able to go down to the blackness, where sunlight had not touched for more millions of years than the human mind could comprehend. He let his thoughts drift, down to where it was so dark the fish made their own light, neon bacteria sparkling in the depths like Christmas lights. No lobsters down that deep...
He found his mind skittering sideways. No lobsters, no crustaceans, at least not the type they’d seen Krycek eating. The merman’s ears had shown some adaptation to the pressures of the ocean, but not all that much – nothing extraordinary...
