"Indeed..." The Smoker regarded him thoughtfully, puffing on
his Morley. "After the demonstration of the unrivaled
control you have over Mulder, we believe you might be able
to appease him. Provide the necessary... release of
tension." A nasty smile stretched the Smoker's lips,
transforming his features into a mask of lechery and
cruelty.
Krycek stopped in front of the door to apartment 42, and
hesitated briefly. Should he knock? Pick the lock? Break the
damned door? Before he had time to answer the question, a
faint hiss broke the silence and he felt a minute sting in
the back of his neck. "What the..." he managed, and
blackness surrounded him.
When he came to, he found himself lying spreadeagled on
Mulder's bed. The sheets had been replaced by a plastic
cover, and the bed itself was moved to the center of the
room. His legs, as well as his hand and even the stump of
his arm, had been secured with plenty of duct tape. Krycek
snorted and rolled his eyes. Mulder! Jesus.
"I see you're up," a gentle, monotonous voice said from
somewhere behind him. Krycek craned his neck to see Mulder
sitting quietly in a chair.
"Yeah, Mulder. I see you've decided to turn the tables..."
Krycek's voice caught in his throat as soon as he saw
Mulder's eyes. God help me, he has really lost it this time.
The eyes—open, clear, translucent—sparkled with eager
cruelty and demented curiosity. A cat playing with a mouse,
interested in nothing but his own excitement and the
suffering of his victim. Would Mulder enjoy hurting him?
Killing him? Krycek felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
"That's enough! Untie me, Mulder!" he growled, attempting
his best Top voice. It didn't help. Mulder rose fluidly and
smoothed his hand along Krycek's leg with an indulgent
smile.
"Mulder... Listen, Mulder, I have to tell you that it wasn't
the Smoker who..."
"I know," Mulder said serenely. "We discussed it, Mr.
Spender and I. I know. No one is to blame, but you. Yes,
Alex?"
Krycek was starting to panic. He was immobilized and at the
mercy of a madman, a madman he created himself. Could this
get any worse? Surely Mulder wouldn't...
A terrible, buzzing noise interrupted his thoughts. Mulder,
who had been rummaging in a bag next to the bed,
straightened and showed Krycek what he held in hand. Light
glinted coldly off the reflective chrome. Mulder's eyes held
a glint of their own... colder and more terrifying. Krycek
choked.
"You like it? I borrowed it from Scully. The good doctor
will have to do without it for a while." Mulder was grinning
now—openly, insanely. He moved the device toward Krycek's
leg.
Muscles spasmed. A scream tore the air. Krycek was sobbing
now, the tears of rage, pain and humiliation mixed with snot
and saliva on his pretty face. His throat was sore after
screaming out streams of profanities, endearments, pleas.
Mulder... Mulder was humming. He leaned closer, examining
Krycek's legs, looking for last pieces of untouched flesh,
then, satisfied, moved up to study his groin.
"No. Not there. Mulder, Fox, please, no, NO! I beg you. I
love you. I promise, I never meant to hurt you! Fuck you,
Mulder, I never killed your father, it was the aliens...
Please, not there!" The moaning pleas were cut off by
another scream, as Krycek's body convulsed and nearly came
off the bed. Mulder moved back, regarded the gasping,
terrified creature writhing in pain on his bed, grinned and
turned the device's power up...
In apartment 43, Mrs. Speck was startled out of her
afternoon nap. Someone was screaming hoarsely in the
apartment next door. Again. Mrs. Speck shook her head. That
poor young man. He must be having nightmares again. High
time he found himself a nice girl to take care of him at
times like that. Or maybe...
This time, the screams were full of animal desperation, and
almost physical pain. It was worse than ever. She briefly
considered going there and trying to wake him, but decided
against it. A moment later, the inarticulate shrieks changed
into a rush of dirty curses and offensive—really
offensive—propositions. Mrs. Speck nodded to herself. Yes,
better not wake him. Probably, that's what the poor soul
needs... some way to let go of all that guilt. So, no girls,
huh. Still, it wasn't like times haven't changed; people
didn't mind two boys having their fun all that much now...
Mrs. Speck put ear-stoppers firmly in her ears and went back
to napping.
"...I'll suck your dick, let me suck you, please, take my
ass, do whatever you want, just stop!" Krycek had long ago
stopped feeling embarassed by his begging. Anything,
anything to stop the slow agony! Forget pride, his balls
were more important. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth
to start pleading for mercy again, but his voice hitched,
and only a whimper came out.
Mulder turned his attention back to Krycek's groin and the
insides of his thighs. But Krycek was too exhausted to
scream any more...
"AD Skinner? It's Agent Mulder. Sir, I have some urgent news
for you. No, it's not possible, you must come here. No, to
my apartment. Yes. Please, hurry. No, I'm okay. In fact, I
feel better than ever. I think you are going to like what
you see."
Skinner put the receiver down and rubbed the bridge of his
nose. Mulder sounded... cheerful. Completely different from
the gloomy apparition who haunted the basement of the Hoover
building during the last month. Whatever brought him back to
his old self, it must have been a good thing. Right?
"Mulder? It's me, Skinner. Open the door."
Mulder opened the door. He was grinning happily, his eyes
filled with mischief and joy.
"Come in, sir. I swear you are going to like it. I called
Scully too; she should be here any minute. It's a bit messy,
sorry 'bout that..."
Skinner followed Mulder into his bedroom, and stopped in the
doorway at the sight that greeted him. He blinked without
understanding, took off his glasses, wiped them clean with
his handkerchief and put them back on—but the horribble
image had not disappeared.
"Well? How do you like it?"
Alex Krycek, the traitor, the triple agent, the manipulative
bastard, lay in the middle of Mulder's bed, sobbing and
struggling for breath. His limbs were stretched painfully,
his vile green eyes full of tears, his lips bitten and
bloody.
Skinner looked at the electrical device in Mulder's hand and
undertanding dawned on him. He looked closer at the
prostrate form in front of him, surveying the pink,
quivering, hairless skin from toe to the top of Krycek's
bald, shining head...
The walls of apartment 42 shook with the maniacal laughter
of not one, but two, G-men. As Skinner and Mulder were
wheezing, hiccuping and patting each other's backs, an
ice-cold voice was heard at the door.
"Mulder? Tell me this isn't my epilator. MULDER!!!"
Note: In case you've never used an epilator: it's a device
that forcefully yanks hairs out of your skin. "Epilady" is
one of the popular brands.
Mulder's Revenge
by Ness
"So, Mulder has finally lost it?" Krycek smirked insolently,
trying to suppress his rage at being called here like
somebody's lap dog.
