NEW: 'Addiction and Volition' by Jori 1/1 (NC-17 Slash/X-Over)
Jori
Author: Jori Remington
E-Mail: dami...@bellsouth.net
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex
Categories: Romance, X-Files/JAG Crossover, pre-XF
Keywords: Mulder/Other Slash PWP Happy Birthday
entertainment for my favorite beta reader, Mojo
Summary: Set during the events of 'Turning and
Returning' but before 'Switching and Effects,'
Mulder spends the night racing to what he needs
the most.
Archive: Yes. Spooky Awards can link to here:
http://netroenterprises.com/stories/hpaddiction.html
Spoilers: Anything up to JAG U.S. season 5 and XF
U.S. season 7 but I doubt it
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
They either belong to CC, 1013 and FOX or Donald
Bellasario and CBS.
Author's Notes: Once again, I had to play with a
few time lines to make this work (mostly JAG since
Rabb couldn't possibly have served in Desert
Storm, crashed his plane, acquired his law degree
and be practicing when I set this. I think he's
been lying to Mulder this whole time, but that's
another story.) This story is set during 'Turning
and Returning,' but technically the events happen
before those in 'Switching and Effects' even
though I wrote that one before this one. Both
stories can be found on my website at:
http://netroenterprises.com/stories/
****************
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
July 23, 1991
5:15 p.m.
I have to get to him. I can't stand it any longer.
Days have turned into weeks and there is no other
word for what I feel inside besides 'ache.' Not
some sorrowful, sappy romance novel ache that is
centered around my heart and no where else. No,
that isn't it. I 'ache' for him everywhere. I
can't lie about it. My mouth aches to kiss him. My
body aches to feel him near. My goddamn cock aches
to be touched by him again.
I call his office and they tell me he is out, gone
on some Jagman investigation. Something about
Naval Submarine Base Kings Bay somewhere on the
southern Georgia coast. No, he won't be back
today. Probably not even tomorrow but if I need to
reach Lt. Rabb, he is staying at something called
the BOQ on base. I hang up the phone, frustrated
as hell. I was hoping to at least hear his voice.
To quench this . . . desire? Shit. Let's call it
what it is . . . horniness. I want him and I want
him now. Not two or three days from now when he is
done investigating some damn submariner.
Looking at my watch, I start to make some plans in
my head. It's five o'clock already. Rush hour is
going to be a bitch, but there is only one thing
to do.
Drive to him tonight.
****************
I-395 South
Alexandria, Virginia
6:45 p.m.
"No, Diana, I won't be home tonight," I say, glad
that I had my traveling bag with me and I didn't
have to go home first and face her. The traffic is
horrible as I try to get to I-95 and this would be
so much easier to concentrate on if she'd stop
bitching at me.
"I took all the paperwork on the case with me. I
have it right here. I'll be back either tomorrow
or the next day . . . no, you don't have to meet
me there. I'm sure I can handle this all by
myself. I'll call you tomorrow," I say, turning
the phone off and tossing it onto the passenger
seat. Damn thing is to big to hold when driving
anyway.
By the time I'm cruising south on 95, the sun has
already begun to set and I can't believe I'm doing
this. I haven't driven all night for this since I
was at Oxford and Phoebe was visiting friends in
Glasgow. I thought I was over that stage in my
life where I need someone so desperately that I'd
go anywhere on earth for them.
I should call him, but I'm afraid of what he'll
say. He's working. This is wrong. I don't know
what I'm thinking. I know what I'm thinking with,
but this is a dangerous game I'm playing now. If
I'm standing there, will he turn me away or does
he want this thing going on between us to continue
as badly as I do? I try to remember our last time
together. . . the baseball game. Just two guys out
to a game on a Sunday afternoon. No one could tell
anything let alone how badly I wanted to fuck the
man sitting in the seat next to me. No one should
be able to tell anything this time, either.
Or so I hope.
****************
I-95
West of Savannah, Georgia
July 24, 1991
4:05 a.m.
"I'm sorry. I'll slow down," I say to the Georgia
Highway Patrol officer standing outside my window
looking as uptight as he could possibly look
without snapping. He's got to be in his
mid-twenties and looks like his choices in life
included this job or pumping gas for his uncle
Earl.
I hand him my bureau ID and everything else asks
for.
"What's the hurry, Agent . . . Mulder?" he asks in
a slow, southern drawl, shining his Mag-Lite at my
badge and then back at me.
"I'm involved in a joint investigation with the
U.S. Navy concerning an incident down at Kings
Bay," I lie. What am I supposed to say? I'm
involved with a U.S. Naval officer investigating
something at Kings Bay and if I don't get to him,
my dick is going to explode?
"Well, just slow down. I doubt it is important
enough to get killed over, is it?" he asks,
handing me back my ID and registration.
"That all depends . . ." I mumble.
"Excuse me, sir?" the young officer asks.
"I said I'll slow down," I lie. Again.
Damn. That wasted fifteen minutes of my time.
****************
Naval Submarine Base Kings Bay
6:26 a.m.
My handy badge gets me onto the base but not
without them calling Harmon Rabb to verify that he
had an FBI agent coming to deliver information
concerning the case. So much for my surprise
attack. They give me directions to the BOQ and I
am so damn tired the guard has to repeat them
twice.
It's an ungodly hour in the morning and most of
the base is up and going. It doesn't look like
Rabb was ready for this, though. He's waiting for
me out in front of the building dressed in running
shorts and shoes and a tank top. The call must
have woke him up. He's got his hands on his hips
and he looks pissed. Very, very pissed.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" he asks
before I can even get out of the car, his voice an
angry whisper. He leans over my open door,
leaving me only enough room to get out and stand
on the opposite side so we face each other. I'm
forced to look up at him from this position and
I'm sure he thinks that puts him in some sort of
control.
"I, uh . . . had to see you?"
It's a crappy excuse but it's all I've got.
"And I'm sure this has nothing to do with the
Cooper investigation, right?" he asks, already
knowing the answer to that. His jaw is set and
when he's not asking me something, his lips are
pursed tight and there's no way in hell he's going
to be smiling about my appearance this time.
"I don't even know who Cooper is. Your office said
you were investigating something here. I had to .
. . I drove here. Harm . . ." I say, trying to
reason with him about my unreasonable act.
"Fox, I'm working. It's the biggest case they've
let me help investigate so far and that's a lot
considering I'm barely a lawyer at this point. I
don't need anyone to fuck this up. Not even you,"
he says, his voice low and angry.
"I'm sorry . . . I'll go home. This was stupid.
All of this was so fucking stupid," I say. I go to
get back in my car so I can find a damn hotel room
and get a couple hours of sleep before crawling
back to DC with my tail between my legs.
"Who's your friend, Lieutenant?" a raspy female
voice asks from near the trunk of the car and we
both jump. I didn't hear her approach and
apparently, neither did Rabb.
"Commander Krennick, This is Special Agent Mulder,
with the FBI. I was just explaining to him that he
needs to instruct the bureau that we don't need
any help on this case," Rabb says, his green-blue
eyes narrowing on me.
"I don't know. We could always use the advice . .
." she starts but doesn't go any further. I look
back at her and she's eyeballing me up and down
carefully as if I were a used car she was about to
put a down payment on.
She fits in her white uniform perfectly and she
knows it. She puffs her breasts out enough for me
to notice and I wish I could laugh at this
situation. This woman is trying to pick me up or
make Rabb jealous and all I'm here to do is be
with him and she probably has no clue.
"He's leaving . . ."
"I'm leaving . . ."
We both say it at the same time and she raises an
eyebrow at us.
"I'm going to go get a bite to eat, Lieutenant. We
have our first deposition at 0930 and I don't want
to be late. I don't want you to be late, either .
. ." she practically purrs at him.
"I won't be," Rabb says without ever turning his
head to acknowledge the tall blonde woman. She
takes a few steps backward before finally going
her own way. When my eyes are set back on his
again, I know I'm about to catch hell.
"She didn't need to see this," Rabb says, stepping
back away from the door.
"She didn't see anything. I am an FBI agent and if
she wants to verify that she's more than welcome
to," I say as I slide back into the driver's seat
of the car.
He shuts his eyes briefly as if he's trying to
make some decision against all his better
judgment.
"I have more than two hours until I have to be at
that deposition. Do you want to go grab something
to eat . . . off base?" he asks, opening his eyes
and looking at me again. Shit, I could drown in
those eyes. I turn away and look at all the dead
bugs splattered against the windshield. That's
what we are heading for with this. He knows it. I
know it. Sooner or later, the damn windshield is
going to catch up to us.
"Sure," I say, watching him through that
gut-covered window as he walks around the car and
climbs in on the passenger side.
****************
Mom's Famous Diner
St. Marys, Georgia
7:34 a.m.
"You look like shit," Rabb says, his hand going
out to sweep my bangs off of my forehead. He pulls
back quickly after realizing his indiscretion and
then looks around to make sure no one noticed his
actions.
"I was up all night. I spent the night driving," I
say again and he just nods. We are waiting for a
table at a busy diner a few miles off base and we
are certainly the oddest couple here. I'm still in
my dress shirt and pants, though my tie was
discarded long ago and Rabb's dressed to run a
marathon. There's no hiding the fact that he's in
the military. He fits right in to the community
here with his haircut and posture.
Rabb keeps looking around nervously and I wish
this didn't have to be like this. If we were just
friends who played ball and talked about women and
had never engaged in any sort of sexual activity,
he wouldn't act like he has a scarlet Q for
'queer' tattooed across his forehead. It was a
wonderful line we crossed, but I doubt either of
us will be completely comfortable with it out in
public.
"Come this way, gentlemen." The frazzled hostess
grabs two menus and escorts us to a booth stuck
way in the back corner. It is so far out of the
way that Rabb has to move the a line of old high
chairs out of the way just to squeeze into his
side and his eyes keep searching the room for a
place a little less private. "Sorry. We usually
don't put anybody back here unless we have to, but
we are hopping today. You fit in there, honey? Why
don't you stick your skinny friend back there
instead?" she ask, putting her arm on mine.
"No, this is fine," Rabb says, sliding in and
shoving the table away from him just a little.
"Thanks," I say, and she assures us she'll be
right back to take our orders.
"What's this about, Fox?" Rabb asks in a near
whisper, leaning toward me across the table. We
drove here in a nervous silence sporadically
broken by him giving me directions to this
location. How he knew were to go is beyond me.
Maybe he was at this base before but that seems
strange for a former aviator.
"I already told you. I needed to see you," I say,
leaning forward as far as he did. "This seems all
the more suspicious if you keep whispering."
He sits back against the vinyl booth and it makes
a poof sound as he settles in.
"Why?" he asks, his voice just a tiny bit louder.
He's still not comfortable. I don't care. I still
want him so badly it aches everywhere now. I wish
I could just lean over this table and kiss him. I
want to taste him, to open his mouth with mine and
explore everything right before I slide kisses
down his neck . . .
"Because I wanted to," I answer. There needs to be
no more explanation. I want him. I want to see
him. What more does he need to know?
"My job, Fox, as you are well aware, doesn't allow
me to run off and . . . engage in certain
activities at a drop of a hat," he says, quieting
down when the waitress comes back to the table to
offer us coffee. We both nod yes at her and she
fills two old, ugly cups and leaves the carafe
behind after taking our order. Doesn't appear that
either one of us is hungry. I'm not hungry for
food at least. I know what I want in my mouth and
it isn't hash and eggs.
"I know that, Harm. That's not what I wanted," I
lie and he knows it. I can tell my his short
chuckle that leads to the first smile I've seen.
"What is you did want? Coffee and uneasy
conversation in a rundown diner? Hell, if I had
known making you happy was as easy as that . . ."
"You know what I want," I interrupt and our eyes
stay locked on the others for a while. Neither of
us breaks the stare until he grabs for the creamer
to pour into his coffee. I doubt he actually takes
coffee with cream. I think it just gives him
something to do.
"I know," he finally answers, shutting his eyes
for a few seconds longer than a blink. He wants
it, too. He just doesn't want to pay the price for
it. A part of me is pissed. I wish I were worth
giving it all up for. No one has ever given up
that much for me and the first person that does
will be the one. I wish Harmon Rabb was the one
but I know in just a short time he's got to go don
a white uniform and go question someone. He
wouldn't be happy doing it without that damn
uniform. He'd be successful at it, he just
wouldn't be happy.
Neither of us says anything until the waitress
delivers our food. He picks at his egg white and
vegetable omelette while I take a forkful of
hashbrowns and try to chew them. I'm sure they are
good, but they aren't satisfying right now. It is
like eating hay when you want caviar.
He has only eaten about half of his meal when he
pushes the plate toward the middle of the table,
nearly spilling my coffee.
"I can't do this," he says, getting up out of the
booth and walking toward the door quickly.
"Fuck," I say a little too loudly as I put enough
bills on the table to cover the check and hurry
after him. A series of elderly heads turn as I
rush by and I hear a few of them go 'tsk tsk' in
the process. Fuck them, too.
He's leaning on the car by the time I catch up to
him, his ass against the trunk, his arms across
his chest.
"What was that about?" I ask as I approach him. I
pull the keys out of my pocket, prepared to drive
him back to the base, drop him off and never see
him again.
"Jesus, Fox. Do you think you are the only one who
wants this? I want you so bad right now I can't
even think . . . can't even eat, but I've got a
job to do. It isn't something that I can just give
up or forget about. There are consequences . . ."
"Shut up and get in the car," I say in my best
federal agent voice. I'm tired of his damn job.
Tired of the parts of my life that keep me away
from what I want. What we feel in our hearts
should be more important. It just should.
He blinks at me twice before he smiles. Then he
laughs loudly and I start laughing, too.
"Are you going to handcuff me?" he asks, still
laughing.
"If I have to," I say in a growl and he gets into
the car. Our doors are barely closed before we are
all over each other and I'm so damn glad we ended
up parked behind the restaurant where there are
only one or two other cars. I'm hoping they don't
belong to the old people in there but to the short
order cook. And I'm hoping he doesn't get off work
until noon.
His mouth opens under mine just like I was hoping
it would and our tongues fight over who has the
right away. I love the feel of his mouth. I love
the feel of being inside of him in the only place
he'll allow me in freely right now. I wish we had
time for more. I wish I could feel his cock in
more places than just my mouth, but we aren't
going to have the time for that, nor do we have
the supplies. And a Naval officer and an FBI agent
getting caught fucking each other outside of
'Mom's Famous Diner' would most certainly make
front page news here.
I pull my mouth from his, wanting more than just
kisses. I want to feel him tremble under my mouth,
to feel his skin quiver under my tongue. I taste
his neck, lapping up the sweaty-sleepy taste that
resides there. I've seen him wake up in the
morning. I've tasted that flavor of Rabb before.
It's one of the better ones.
His one hand grabs the armrest on the car door and
the other rests on my back, just short of pushing
my head down faster than I'm already going. My one
hand slides up and under his tanktop and I feel
the muscles flutter as I brush my hand across his
abdomen. My other hand is on his cock already,
feeling it harden under my touch. I wish I
understood what this attraction was created from.
There's not another man on earth that I've ever
wanted to do this to and there's no explanation
for it. I like explanations for things like this,
but this one is truly a mystery.
This is a bitch to do with bucket seats and the
middle console in the way, but it will take more
than that to stop me. I slip my hand under the
elastic band of his shorts to discover that
there's nothing more in my way. I did wake him up.
He didn't even have time to get dressed in anymore
than a shirt, shorts and shoes.
There's already some pre-come at the head of his
cock and my thumb brushes through it, spreading
the tiny drop of moisture as far as it will go. My
hand works up and down on him until my mouth can't
wait any longer. I pull his shorts down just
enough to free him and then I dip my head down to
his lap, my tongue circling the tip of him
greedily, not able to control myself. It is as if
he's some sort of sacrament that I need to save my
very soul, when I know that it's all just the
opposite.
"Fox . . ." he moans as I wrap my lips around him
and settle down to the business of getting him
off. My own cock is so hard that it is straining
against the front of my pants and I won't be able
to stand it cooped up in there much longer. His
fingers move through my hair as I continue to take
him in my mouth and work my tongue around him.
Rabb begins to buck up in my mouth and I don't
stop him. I want to feel him fuck me even if this
is the best we can manage. His hand moves from my
hair down to my own crotch, and it is then I
realize exactly how cramped for space we are in
here. The steering wheel has been pressing against
me this whole time and I was so caught up in it
all that I didn't notice. Fuck. An 18 wheeler
could be sitting beside us with its engine running
and at this point, I wouldn't notice.
His hand that's not stroking me moves to the base
of his cock and he begins to jerk himself off
furiously as I keep my mouth over the head, my
tongue lapping around and around, waiting for his
moment of release. I want to taste him. Want to
feel him explode down my throat.
And before I can even finish that thought, he
does. His hands both go to the dashboard, and I
can hear his fingernails scratching against the
plastic surface as his orgasm moves through his
whole body and then moves from his to mine. I
swallow every drop of salty, sticky come that he
wants to give up and the whole thing makes me want
to come all that much more.
He pushes me up from his lap until I'm sitting and
his hands race to get my zipper undone. I rock up
a little so he can pull down everything just far
enough to get access to my cock. The joyous moan
that escapes my throat when he wraps his fist
around me is that of a man who was just saved from
drowning.
We both roll our heads toward each other on the
headrests, our eyes not parting. There's so much
going on behind his and I wish he would just tell
me one-quarter of it but right now this is nothing
but physical and any of that can wait until later.
When we are both back in DC. When we are on the
phone and not so emotionally raw and exposed.
After building up to this moment all night, it
doesn't take me long to come. I feel everything
begin to tighten starting way down in my toes and
finally, it all springs loose and I cry out his
name a little louder than someone in a public
parking lot should. I watch his eyes move from
mine to the fluid arcing out of me and across his
hand.
Both of us just sit there, still panting.
Suddenly, I feel like a $25 whore but the smile
that slowly moves across his face takes those
thoughts right out of my head. He wouldn't be
doing this with a man unless he wanted to be doing
it with me. He's not using me for a quick blowjob
in the front seat of a Ford Taurus when there's so
much to lose.
He wipes his hand off on the edge of the seat and
I'll just leave that up to the FBI to figure out.
We adjust our clothes, tucking in all the body
parts that shouldn't be hanging out when two men
who are supposed to be friends are sitting in a
car just talking.
"You know . . . I've been thinking lately. Does
this make us gay?" Rabb asks, looking out the
window as I still work on getting my shirt tucked
in.
"I don't think so," I say absentmindedly, starting
the car so I can get some fresh air moving through
here. I smells like pure male sex without even the
slightest hint of anything female around us. And
I'm telling him we aren't gay. What a joke.
"You just gave me one hell of a blowjob an hour
before I have to go back and be an officer in the
Navy again and I gave you a handjob and you are
going to drive back to your girlfriend you don't
like as much as you like me and yet, we aren't
gay," Rabb says, scoffing. Shit. I wish he
wouldn't fucking do this every time we touch each
other.
"It's you, Harm. Only you. There is no other man
on this damn planet I'd drive all night for. Just
you. Whether that makes me gay or not, I don't
know. I don't give a damn because I want you and I
don't give a shit what labels go with that," I
say, my tone sharper than I intended it to be.
He turns to look at me and something unreadable
passes over his face. "What about my career? Do
you care about what labels they would put on me?"
I sigh. We are right back to where we always are.
The damn United States Navy. "Yes. I care. I care
because you care. It's what makes you everything
you are. It's what I'm going to take you back to
right now. And you want to know something, Harm?
It is worse than taking you back to some damn
girlfriend. With that, I'd at least have a chance
of talking you into leaving her. But there's no
way in hell I can talk you into leaving 'it' and
everything this job means to you."
"Well, that certainly keeps you safe, doesn't it?
No need to ever leave your girlfriend if I pose no
serious threat. Shit. We sound like women, Fox.
I'm worried about us being gay when what we should
be worried about is turning into women," Harm says
with a half chuckle.
"I don't think we have to worry about that yet," I
say as I watch him wipe his hand across his shirt
trying to remove all traces of me.
"No, but I do have to worry about getting back and
getting to that deposition on time. Are you going
to stay around . . ." he starts to ask but I'm
already shaking my head 'no.' "Any reason why
not?"
"You're right. This is too risky. As much as I
want to spend my days here in beautiful coastal
Georgia with the thoughts of fucking you later
running through my head, it just isn't right. I'll
find someplace more private for us to get away to.
Does that sound good?" I ask and he looks away
before saying yes in a near whisper to the window.
****************
Naval Submarine Base Kings Bay
9:07 a.m.
I leave him at the entrance at his choosing. I
guess there is no need to run into that woman with
her sultry voice asking us what we think we are
doing. I don't know if I'd want to lie this time.
I'd love to see the look on her face as I told her
I just got done giving Rabb a blowjob. I'm sure
her little mouth would twist into a pout. I could
tell exactly what she was like from just seeing
her that short time. She wants Rabb but not quite
as much as I do.
His hand brushes over mine quickly as he opens the
passenger door to get out. It is just a little
touch, but it is electric. One of those where if
anybody else had seen it, they'd know.
"Drive carefully," he says, before he shuts the
door and leaves me. He'll be late if he doesn't
hurry. I watch him jog away and back to what he
loves best.
I pull away from the base and head back to what I
love least.
The End
Author's End Notes: Please forgive my geography
problems. Oh, and if I screwed up the drive time,
I was only going by what Mapquest had to tell me.
Every time I write a story that really falls flat
on its face, I have this bad habit of running to
my favorite slash pair. 'Turning and Returning'
came about after one of my original Calendar Girl
stories crashed and burned. After my whole
'Calendar Girl II' series stank up the whole room
and bombed big time, I am once again returning to
my favorite guys. This story isn't it. I'm still
working on that one since it is going to be long
and filled with that thing called a plot. BUT this
is a quickie I wrote for my good friend MoJo's
birthday. Happy Birthday!!!
DBKate
I wish it was MoJo's birthday every day.
<g>
Great work!
Kate