Parking Lot of the Washington Sports Club Every muscle in his body hurt, sending him further into his already pisspoor
mood. Why was it when a day just started out shitty, there was never any hope of
anything taking an upswing? He'd overslept, which had in turn made him late for
work, which had in turn pissed Scully off, which had in turn made his day just
that much brighter. In an effort to rid his body of the mounting frustration,
he'd decided to go for a good hard run. Unfortunately, at some point during the
day, the heavens had decided to open up and soak DC in its entirety. So, off to
the gym he went, to take advantage of the rubberized track. A good back-up plan,
no?
No.
Wouldn't it figure he'd fuck that up too? His knee complained heartily from
where he'd fallen on it, and it occurred to Mulder that he'd probably gifted
himself with a small sprain. Pair that up with his muscles burning from the
intensity of the run, and you came up with a nice little bit of misery.
A perfect end to a perfect day, really. Mulder's upper lip curled in a sneer;
the fun wasn't over yet. He still had a late meeting with Skinner to go suffer
through. Fucking budget bullshit.
As the rain continued to pelt him softly, soaking hair, jacket and clothes, he
jammed his key unceremoniously into the car door lock (the battery in his keyless
entry was dead, thank you very much) and turned, grasping onto the slippery door
handle.
Suddenly, the back of his trench coat was grabbed, and the driver's side window
came rushing up at his face, safety glass and cartilage connecting with a
blinding flash of pain. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise, given the
way his day had been going, but it did. Something that felt suspiciously like
the blunt end of a baseball bat, only softer, was driven hard into his kidneys,
sending him against the car door again with a loud, metallic thud. The air had
been forced out of his lungs, and it was taking a concerted effort to retrieve
what he'd lost. The assault had caught him off-guard, and whoever was on the
other end of the attack was taking full advantage of this fact, having swiftly
pulled his weapon from its holster. As Mulder was working to turn around, to
right himself, to fight back, fists pummeled him, one feeling strangely...
different. Though the blows were coming so fast, he hadn't the time to process
what, exactly, he was being beaten with. Stinging punches visited his abdomen,
as well as other tender areas of his anatomy.
Anger and frustration bubbled up within him. It wasn't exactly a straw that had
broken this camel's back, but something had snapped... audibly. With a growl that
sounded more animal than man, Mulder barreled into the attacker, rain and the
shoddy light of the parking lot blurring his vision. He felt more than a small
degree of satisfaction as his shoulder rammed into the solid body. The blow sent
them stumbling across the parking lot, falling onto, and off various parked cars
before landing hard on the ground. Snarling, he brought a forearm into the face
of his attacker, hearing a painful grunt in response. Logic took a back seat as
they continued to roll, each individual fighting for the upper hand. Blow after
blow made his body sing with pain and his mouth fill with blood. Suddenly, he
found himself underneath the assailant and felt a hand grasp tightly at his
shirt, pulling up, then slamming his head into the pavement over and over again.
By the time he stopped fighting, he'd lost count of how many times the asphalt
had reverberated through his skull. The weight that had sat so heavily on his
chest lifted, finally. Through a haze of blood and pain, he saw, staring down at
him in the flickering amber glow of a nearly defunct streetlight, a man who by
all rights should have been dead. This, however, was obviously not the case, as
he was presently dealing painful kicks against Mulder's ribs, and these were not
phantom boots driving into his body. He moved to fend off the blows as best he
could, anger sparking up inside of him at the short, derisive laugh followed by
the warm wetness of spittle trailing down his cheek, mingling with blood and
rain. Eyes that had clenched tight in agony opened again and he couldn't help
but notice that in the sopping semi-darkness of the parking lot, Alex Krycek had
the look of the Devil about him. Green eyes glimmered in dark amusement down at
Mulder, who was having an inordinately difficult time focusing. Images danced
before his eyes, swimming until his lids slammed shut. Mulder felt the cool
barrel of his own gun slide intimately between his lips and teeth, and the warmth
of the other man as he lowered himself more to Mulder's level. The click of the
hammer being drawn back was loud, piercing through the mist that had settled over
the agent.
"Losing your touch, Mulder," that voice, that damnably familiar voice filled with
smug self-satisfaction flitted through the semi-darkness at him.
He lay there, eyes still working furtively to open, to focus in on the face
hovering above him, unable to form any sort of coherent response. His lungs
burned, his entire body was one screaming nerve of pain, and he was working on
one hell of a headache. The warm tendrils of unconsciousness beckoned to him,
and whether it was pain or fear that sent him into that inky embrace, Mulder
didn't know. He didn't know, and he didn't much care. The only thing that
mattered was that blessed darkness that had cocooned itself around him. It was
so much more appealing than the alternative anyway.
Alex Krycek only chuckled darkly before grabbing the dropped set of keys and
hefting the wet agent over his right shoulder.
Exact Location, Unknown
Pitch was a dark sticky substance, often a residue of different kinds of tar or
petroleum. While he'd never actually seen pitch, Mulder was pretty sure this
was what it was as dark as.
It was dark, and he hurt; only now the sharp, screaming, pulsating pain had
whittled down to a duller, throbbing ache. That was something, at least.
Slowly, as consciousness seeped into his body and mind, he realized that the
reason it was so dark had more to do with the material covering his eyes than the
light in the room. And as wakefulness made its harsh descent upon him, he
realized a few other choice details. Two, actually, both at the same time and
with identical waves of panic.
He was standing, that he was sure of. His hands were above him, the fastenings
strapped tightly against his skin. His ankles, too, had been fastened in a
similar manner. It felt as though he might have been in an entryway, or possibly
a doorway, though he wasn't entirely sure. Mulder stretched his fingers out
searchingly, trying to get some sort of idea about what was holding him. It
didn't feel like rope, nor were the fastenings metallic. They were padded, and
warm against his skin. The restraints were probably leather, or possibly
something synthetic. He pulled experimentally and found that whatever they were,
they were tightly secured. His arms ached unmercifully, especially at the
shoulders, probably from holding his weight while he'd been unconscious. The
burning sensation traveled from his shoulders to the middle of his back, and no
amount of shifting would alleviate the ache. Before long, that twinging ache
would turn into a full-fledged cramp.
All of that, and the cloth gag that filled his mouth, told Mulder that he was in
some seriously deep shit. He let his head loll back slightly and pulled
experimentally at the bonds, feeling the panic well up in him when he found that
there was no give in the restraints.
Alex leaned back in his chair and examined the contents of what was left in his
coffee cup before tossing it back in one lukewarm gulp. It looked like someone
was up.
Good.
A cold, almost feral, grin curled his lips as he watched the other man tug at the
straps holding him in place. And while the muffled grunts made something in his
cock twitch slightly, he pushed that aside. This wasn't meant to be about
pleasure... well, not carnal pleasure, anyway. It was about recompense,
retribution, reprisal, and other "R" words. He felt his tongue slip out and
slide slowly across his bottom lip. He watched as Mulder's body, which had hung
slackly in sleep, slowly woke. Rather than continuing to hang by his arms, long
legs straightened and began to support the weight. Alex watched in dark
amusement as long fingers stretched to learn as much as possible about their
whereabouts. Once Fox had started to pull, attempting to free himself, did he
finally decide it was time to unveil the surprise and put an end to the games. He
stood and crossed the room, pausing a few steps in front of the agent, still
smirking to himself. He pulled the agent's necktie, which he'd made into a
makeshift blindfold, away, and waited.
Alex could barely suppress his grin as eyes which had always seemed earthen
before, calming swirls of green and brown, sparked to furious life as
comprehension slowly dawned. He bit his lip in a smile as Mulder, now obviously
angry, lurched in his bonds, yelling (profanities, Alex was sure) into the gag.
"Angry, are you, Fox?"
Hazel eyes spit fire at him in response as Mulder pulled forward, livid.
Alex nodded and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Good. Angry is good." He
pulled at the long silk tie, threading it through the fingers of his real hand.
"You know, I was angry once." A harsh bark of a laugh. "Hell, more than once,
but who's counting?" He tilted his head, that same small smile on his lips. "I'm
an amazingly patient person, Fox. Did you know that? Inordinately patient. And
do you know what? That patience, that perseverance , that fortitude, is gonna
pay off. Patience for what? Funny you'd wonder that..." He dropped the tie,
letting the silk flutter soundlessly to the ground, and lifted the shiny plastic
hand. "This." Slowly, Alex trailed the prosthetic across Mulder's cheek.
Mulder's eyebrows drew together, furrowing in a moment of confusion before he
recoiled at the light touch of eerily cool plastic caressing the side of his
face. The fingers felt strangely smooth; a perfect imperfection, the unmarred
lines of synthetic material covering what was probably unending scar tissue.
"Not pretty, is it?" Alex pressed himself hard against Mulder's body, invading
his space. "No anesthetic, Mulder. None." His voice had lowered to a dangerous
hiss. " You dragged me there. You're the reason, you self-righteous,
megalomaniacal bastard. " He moved back a fraction of an inch. "And if you
think you hate me now, you're going to hate me twenty times more when I'm
finished with you." He smiled again, a cold, reptilian grin. "Almost as much as
I hate you." Slowly, his right hand trailed up the front of Mulder's dress
shirt, popping the small white discs free.
Mulder wrenched back viciously, another muted growl making Krycek's grin widen
ever so slightly. He shook his head in amusement. "Nope. Can't get away from
me, can you?" he asked, slowly working his way down the once pristine dress
shirt, now damp and stained with grease, dirt, and blood. "I know what it's like
to be held down." Green eyes looked up through a forest of lashes. "I know what
it's like to be violated, and soon you will too." He finished unbuttoning
Mulder's shirt and ran an unfeeling finger down from the Adam's apple to the
waistband of Mulder's dress pants before producing a pair of scissors.
The metal glinted ominously and Mulder found that he could only stare at the item
held so carelessly in Krycek's hand. The lethargy he had woken with had vanished
along with the ache that was developing in his shoulders, back and head. He
pulled violently at his restraints, continuing to scream at Krycek through the
cloth. Goddamn sick perverted bastard, what the fuck was he doing? Mulder
watched in disbelief as the other man placed the tip of the blade at the hollow
of his throat and let it drift downward, mirroring the action of the prosthetic
earlier. The cold metal against his feverish skin gave him a cold shock and he
shivered, still trying to pull away.
Alex clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Best not do that Fox." He looked up,
raising his eyebrows in gentle warning. "You never know. I might... slip."
The sharp gasp was followed by a hoarse, suppressed scream and Alex watched in
quiet satisfaction as Mulder glanced down at the cut, rage coloring his features.
The bastard had cut him, and made him bleed.
"Oops," he said softly, "my mistake." Smirking up at Mulder, who by now could
only stare in disgust and disbelief, he brought his mouth to the small
laceration, and dragged his tongue across it, slowly licking up the blood that
had begun to drip from the wound. The coppery piquant was strong against his
tongue, and Alex smiled at the taste. "Better hold still, Mulder. Never know
what I might cut next." He brought his mouth to Mulder's ear. "What I might
have to...lick up next."
Mulder narrowed his eyes and jerked his head away from Krycek quickly, only to
swing it forward, effectively head-butting Krycek in the process. His eyes
glinted in satisfaction as the other man howled in pain and barely restrained
fury.
Hah.
Bastard.
Alex only held his head and looked back up at Mulder, who was reasonably alarmed
to see the frigid smile had hiked up a few darker degrees. With a dry chuckle,
he strode out of the room, leaving Mulder craning his neck, trying to follow the
other man's movements. Warm hands suddenly slipped underneath the back of his
shirt and Mulder jumped slightly.
When Alex did speak, his voice was a bare whisper in the dusky light of the room.
"Hold still, Fox," he murmured, hoping the agent listened about as well as he did
normally. That might mean more bloodshed.
The cold blade of the scissors pressed against his back as Krycek slowly snipped,
cutting the fabric away from Mulder's body. "This is for letting me hang outside
of that godforsaken balcony," he said softly, willing himself not to give into
the temptation to simply rip the shirt, tearing the material completely,
shredding it. No, that would be too quick, and Alex was determined to make this
last. Once the back of the shirt was cut up the middle, he turned his attention
to the arms, slowly and methodically cutting the material up one arm and then the
other, from cuff to collar, watching as the smooth cotton fell to the floor,
leaving Mulder's upper body totally bare.
Bare, and exposed.
Alex circled through the apartment, coming to face his visitor once again. His
eyes raked across Mulder's torso. Well-built, muscular and tanned. Unscarred.
A swimmer's body.
Alex used to enjoy swimming too, once.
One-handed, he reached out and unfastened the leather belt, pulling it sharply
from Mulder's waist with a snap. "I really, really suggest you not move now,
Mulder." Alex rocked back on his heels and contemplated for a moment before
stepping forward and bringing his hand to the button on Mulder's pants. He
unfastened the button, watching the other man's eyes as he did so, watching the
rage, the unadulterated fury that was storming in those eyes. He smiled
serenely and slowly dragged the zipper downward. That smile twisted into a smirk
as he let his hand casually brush against Mulder's genitals, taking special
pleasure in both the glare shot at him and the furtive, yet futile, movements
away from his hand.
Again, he grasped the scissors, pulling them out of his back pocket. Keeping his
eyes on those familiar eyes, flashing savagely at him, he brought the blades to
the soft woolen dress pants. Rather than snipping patiently, Alex lowered
himself down onto his haunches, then pulled the blades up one leg and then the
other, rending the material completely and watching, amused, as they fell to the
floor. "That was for dragging me to Tunguska," he said softly, a hard, malicious
edge to the words. Alex pulled what was left of the pants away, tossing them to
the side before removing Mulder's shoes and socks as well, leaving the agent clad
in nothing more than a pair of dark blue cotton boxers.
"I've thought long and hard about what I was going to do to you, Fox. I've
thought about this as I stumbled through the woods, bleeding, god-only-knew
what infections festering inside of me. I thought about this as I lay in a
Russian hospital. Have you ever been inside a Russian hospital, Mulder? The
sick wander the halls, the facilities are primitive at best, a sterile
environment is a goddamn luxury in a place like that. So you can bet your ass
that I've had time to think this over. Every detail. I promise you." Slowly he
began cutting up the right leg of the boxers, the edge of the scissors
occasionally scraping against the flesh of Mulder's upper thigh. Slowly he cut
the other leg of the boxer shorts, watching as they fluttered to the ground.
"That was for my arm." He dragged his eyes back up to Mulder's face, still
smiling that same infuriating grin. The grin of a madman. "And the fun's only
just beginning." He looked down at the exposed flesh, tilting his head in
thought. "Oh look... I've cut you again." Alex brought his finger to a spot of
sensitive skin at the top of Mulder's thigh where, true to his word, Alex had cut
the skin again. A small teardrop of blood was beginning to form and Alex could
feel the other man tense as he brought his mouth to the nick.
Mulder pulled hard in the restraints, trying to pull his body away from Krycek's
mouth. When warm lips closed over the wound, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried
to block out the information his brain was processing. A warm wet tongue passed
over the spot on his leg, almost as if he'd known how very sensitive a spot it
was. So sensitive a spot was it, that Mulder fancied he could feel every
tastebud as the tongue swept across his skin. He tried not to think about the
fact that Krycek was licking him, tasting him... Mulder's breathing had
quickened and while he continued trying to evade the long sweeps of Krycek's
tongue across his flesh, the other man certainly had the advantage. A growl
formed low in his throat and he pulled hard again, screaming a torrent of
obscenities into the gag.
Alex, having concluded his attentions to the small gash, settled back on his
haunches again and laughed, a low rasp of a chuckle, at the sight of Mulder's now
semi-erect cock. He stood, meeting Mulder's eyes and still grinning
insufferably. "Well, well, Mulder. It would appear that pain arouses you." He
paused for a beat and leaned in closer. "Either that, or I do." He watched in
amusement as Mulder's eyes widened slightly and his lip curled up in a snarl,
baring his teeth at Krycek. He took a half of a step closer until he was
completely pressed against Mulder, who was still trying to put as much distance
as possible between the two of them. "Do I, Mulder? Do I turn you on? Do I
make you hard?"
Krycek grasped the slowly filling cock and watched as Mulder gasped and tried to
wrench away. He stroked the shaft slowly, bringing it to full attention,
watching as the muscles in Mulder's arms bunched and jumped under the skin as he
jerked in his bonds. "Is every jab a kiss; every uppercut a caress from you? Do
you, Agent Mulder, Seeker of Truth, get off on me ? Your very antithesis?" He
lifted his chin at Mulder after a moment of complete silence. " I think you do.
I think you must." Dark eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch over icy emerald
eyes. "'Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it
supports them all, lends strength to them all . ambition, cruelty, avarice,
revenge are all founded on lust.' Everybody knows a little bit about all of
those things, Mulder, and some more than others. I would venture to say that
even your hatred is founded on lust." He squeezed the cock in his hand and saw
that, even in the dim light of the room, the dark pupils of those hazel eyes,
which were still glaring at him heatedly, dilated slightly.
With a quick lift of one eyebrow, Alex released his hold on Mulder's cock, now
darkening and engorged with blood. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, his
lips only mere fractions of an inch away from the erection. He looked up at
Mulder, who was staring at him in obvious shock, tinted with repulsion. A
malevolent grin curled his lips, resembling more smirk than smile. "You're
wondering if I'm really going to do what you think I'm going to do, aren't you?"
He blew hot breath across the flesh, feeling immense satisfaction at the way
Mulder strained to pull away from him. I'm going to suck your dick, Mulder. I'm
going to make you come. You're going to come harder than you ever have in your
entire life. And I'm going to be the one to do it to you. I'm going to make you
scream my name, Mulder." He chuckled. "Well, as best you can, anyways."
Mulder shook his head mutely and pulled hard, trying to angle himself away from
Krycek. The warm breath against the ultra-sensitized skin made him jump and jerk
even further away, which wasn't saying much. He strained his muscles, trying to
use the restraints to brace himself away from Krycek. He pushed hard, surprised
to see that the other man hadn't moved a millimeter. He only continued to watch
Mulder carefully, patiently. With a slight chill, Mulder realized that Krycek
reminded him of a keen predator, waiting for the perfect, most opportune moment
to strike.
Only mere minutes had passed before Mulder began to feel the slow trickle of
gelid sweat slide down his back. His muscles were screaming, aching
relentlessly, and it slowly dawned on him what Krycek was waiting for. As his
legs began to twitch and shake from the exertion of holding that position, it
became clearer and clearer. He saw those hard green eyes glance at his legs. He
saw a smile quirk at those lips. Mulder closed his eyes and steadied his
breathing, first tightening, then releasing the aching muscles in an effort to
keep them from cramping.
Alex looked up at the agent serenely. Mulder would come to Alex. He'd make sure
of that. He'd waited this long; certainly he could wait a little longer. He saw
a faint sheen of sweat beading on Mulder's body, and he was fairly sure that his
wait was very nearly over. Mulder could torture his limbs for only so long
before they gave out on him, his body only betraying him further. Soon enough,
he would relax in his bonds and move forward, and Alex's mouth would be open and
waiting when he did.
He had no more concept of time. Seconds could have been days, as far as Mulder
was concerned. All he knew was that his body would not let him keep this
position for very much longer. Arms and legs were both shaking violently with
the effort it took not to allow himself to go limp in the restraints. And for
many different moments, Mulder contemplated how good it would have felt to just
let go and end the torment that he was putting himself through. He weighed the
consequences, and his body had actually begun to relax, moving forward to a more
natural position in his bonds; the briefest touch of Alex Krycek's lips against
the flesh of his erection sending him back to the previous, uncomfortable
position.
Principles, Mulder. It's a test of wills. He's fucking with you. It's a
goddamn game, and he wants to see you lose.
And, as insistent as that voice in his head was, it wasn't enough to keep
Mulder's strained and throbbing muscles from slackening. Suddenly, and with an
almost intoxicating rush of alleviation, he let himself move forward; the muscles
that had been screaming in agony now singing in bliss. The only thing piercing
through that haze of relief was the sensation of Alex Krycek's mouth around his
cock. Mulder whimpered in pain and frustration, and tried to pull back again,
but his body refused to comply. He only succeeded in moving against the other
man's mouth, the sensitive skin sliding past lips, teeth and tongue. Anger
sparked anew in Mulder, and he yelled through the gag at Krycek, exhausted arms
struggling in the fetters.
The deep chuckle reverberated against the hot, swollen flesh and, unbidden, a
strangled moan formed in Mulder's throat as Krycek's tongue, hot and wet, teased
around the head of his erection. Ragged breaths burning through his chest, he
attempted once more to move away from Krycek, and out of his mouth. Forcing his
mind and body away from the fog that had settled over him, he moved his hips
back, trying to pull away, trying to disengage. To his horror, as he moved back,
Krycek moved forward, pressing against him, sucking, nipping and nearly
swallowing his cock. Mulder whimpered in frustration as his hips bucked against
the smooth heat of that mouth. He could almost feel Krycek's smile. That
taunting, knowing grin that never failed to infuriate him beyond any and all
realm of comprehension.
God damn him.
Alex glanced up at Mulder through his lashes, ice green eyes glinting sharply. He
had felt the involuntary movement as Mulder had thrust into his mouth. He had
felt it, and his own cock had begun to tighten in response. He watched as he
broke through every one of Mulder's defenses, one by one; with each stroke of his
tongue, with each graze of his teeth, Alex was breaking him. Smirking, he pulled
away from the blood-heated shaft and stood suddenly, latching his teeth onto one
of Mulder's nipples, almost chuckling as he heard what sounded like a whimper of
disappointment. He teased the nub, biting hard, then grazing his tongue over the
goosepimpled skin before bringing one hand down to Mulder's balls, and squeezing
at first gently, and then more firmly, massaging the sac until he felt Mulder
writhing helplessly against him, moaning deeply into the gag.
Pity. He hadn't expected him to give in so quickly.
He stepped back to examine his handiwork, taking note of the smothered groan of
frustration that had rumbled deep in Mulder's chest. A small, cold grin teased
at Krycek's lips. Mulder's body was flushed and damp with sweat, his cock was
practically purple as it bobbed at him, and the skin around the left nipple was
red from his attentions. Mulder was panting, watching him warily.
"You only think you want me to stop."
Alex stepped forward again and grasped Mulder's cock tightly, congratulating
himself when he felt the other man grind against his grip. An idea suddenly
occurring to him, he brought his lips hard upon Mulder's neck, chuckling at the
gasp of surprise and the sudden jerk backwards. Krycek only pressed harder
against Mulder, sucking hard at the skin on his neck. He stroked the erection as
he sucked, and when he pulled away again, he saw that he had gifted Mulder with a
nice memento of the evening. He smirked and brought his mouth to the area around
neglected nipple, sucking until the blood rushed to the skin. Slowly, he dropped
to his knees again, bringing his lips to Mulder's hip, bruising him again. He
left similar markings across Mulder's abdomen as well, taking immense pleasure in
the way the other man kept trying to move away from him, only to be forced to
press harder against Krycek.
Mulder moaned hard into the gag, his efforts to evade Krycek's mouth turning
half-hearted. It would have been easier, so much easier, to just give in. To
simply let the moist heat of Krycek's mouth to surround him until he came. His
body was buzzing with endorphins, and as loath as he was to admit it, every place
Krycek touched him, be it with hand or mouth, jolted with dark electricity. His
breathing had grown fast and ragged, and somewhere along the line, the pulls
against the restraints had moved from an attempt to gain freedom into an attempt
to increase pleasure.
And Mulder was damned if he knew when that point had occurred.
The harder he worked to push away the sensations whipping through his body, the
stronger they were. Those bites, those squeezes and strokes were driving him
quickly and efficiently out of his mind.
And why was that?
Why was it that the throbbing aches that assailed his muscles worked in tandem
with Krycek, somehow increasing the pleasure, the arousal, this almost
animalistic desire that had snuck up on him? Why was it, Mulder wondered as he
seemed to watch himself outside of his body, that he was finding himself wanting
more? Why, in the name of God, was he grinding against the mouth of the man
who had caused him more hell than he cared to consider?
Why would his body not listen to him the first thousand times he told it to
stop ?
Krycek's sharp teeth grazing across the ultra-sensitive skin of his cock yanked
his mind away from those rambling questions as a muffled yelp manifested itself
in his throat. Again, believing himself to be in control of his body, Mulder
wrenched away from the other man's mouth, only to find himself thrusting
helplessly into it when the light graze of white incisors had turned into a soft
bite. He writhed, not wanting to acknowledge the unbelievable fire that was
sparking its way through his body; not wanting to acknowledge who was creating
such a spark. And for every heartfelt prayer that Krycek would end this, there
was another prayer—just as heartfelt—that he would not.
As Alex slowly worked lips, teeth and tongue across, around, and up and down
Mulder's heated shaft, he heard the helpless whimpers, the wordless pleadings,
and the deep growls that all communicated the very same message to him.
Do not stop.
He was turning this man's body against him, creating pleasure and desire out of
hate. He was using Mulder's passionate nature against him, pushing him until he
broke, until he came, screaming. He smiled against the flesh, almost chuckling
as he felt the other man writhe wantonly in his restraints. Alex could not help
but notice that the frantic movements had turned less furtive. He could not help
but notice that Mulder's hips had started bucking, fucking his mouth. Least of
all could he ignore the fact that Mulder's cock had grown unfathomably hard in
his mouth. Now, he thought with a sense of smug satisfaction, for the piece de
resistance. Slowly Alex brought his hand to Mulder's heavy sac and massaged it,
rolling the testicles as he sucked hungrily at the aching cock. He hummed deep
in his throat and squeezed the loose flesh firmly.
Perhaps Krycek had simply thrown too much energy onto an already overstressed
socket. Perhaps he'd pressed the right combination of buttons. Perhaps he had
prodded Mulder as far as he could. Whatever the reason, it mattered little as
Mulder's world suddenly exploded in a supernova of color and light. Warmth and
adrenaline unfurled in his stomach, spreading through his limbs as he thrust
helplessly into Krycek's mouth. He came in uncontrollable jerking spasms,
moaning throatily into the gag. Muscles flexed and bunched as he pulled
reflexively at his bindings until the euphoria passed. That moist warmth that
had surrounded his cock pulled away, the cool air chilling the damp skin
slightly. A shiver slithered through Mulder, though he wasn't entirely sure how
much it had to do with the temperature in the room. He watched in shocked
silence as Krycek stood, eyeing him with an unreadable expression.
Alex reached up and unlatched one of the buckles immobilizing Mulder's right
wrist. That was enough for Mulder to get himself out, leaving Alex enough time
to make a speedy exit. He took a step back and wiped at his mouth with the back
of his hand, unable to fight the smirk that was threatening to spread across his
entire face.
"Don't say I never did anything for ya, Foxy," he taunted softly before turning
on his heel and letting himself out of the generic, nameless apartment that he'd
found specifically for this rendezvous. Before long, he'd let himself out of the
building, and into a waiting car, speeding safely off into obscurity, leaving
Mulder alone to deal with demons he'd helped raise.
Alex snorted softly. Raise, indeed.
Crime Passionnel
by Fox's Gal
1990 M St.
NW Washington, DC
