"Ever have the urge to lose control, Alex? To just chuck it all away and let someone
else take the reins? Ever felt so helpless
that you were forced to go against the collective scream of a thousand thoughts in
your head and trust the one person you
hated so wholly?"
"No." Krycek tried for the right amount of resolution in his voice but fell short.
"And yet, that's exactly what you're doing right now."
"But I don't hate you, Mulder. We've... for Christ's sake, Mulder; your cock has
been down my throat and up my ass. I
certainly don't hate you. What's this all about? Why the gun? You knew I was
going to be here tonight. What gives?" He
hoped the anger and indignation in his voice hid the apprehension.
"Don't confuse animal sex with anything that has emotion. And you will, Alex, you'll
hate me. Before this night is over
you'll wish me dead a hundred times and swear some sort revenge against me,"
Mulder answered. "Why the gun? Because I
know you. I know you won't go down without a fight. It's just my insurance against
a dirty one, not that I don't enjoy
mixing it up with you from time to time. However, tonight I have neither the time
nor the patience."
"Fuck you, Mulder!"
"Later, Alex. After you've had a chance to heal."
"What the hell does—"
The odor of chloroform was the last thing Krycek remembered before surrendering
to an inky darkness.
"Alex? Alex can you hear me? Time to wake up, now."
Mulder's voice cut through the haze that clouded Krycek's mind, scraping over his
frayed nerve endings and dragging him
back from beneath the heavy blanket of sleep. He awoke to find himself tied on
Mulder's bed; naked from the waist down,
his legs splayed obscenely. He looked around briefly, then up to Mulder's face and
to an unknown man behind him. He
shivered. Oh fuck me, what's he up to? His heart started pounding wildly within the
confines of his chest. Struggling against
his fear, he listened to Mulder's quiet voice.
"You do know that I own you, right Alex? Always have, always will. You can leave
me, you can lay with someone else but
I'll always own you. Got that? You're mine. And after tonight, anyone you fuck will
know it. He may not know it's me and
he may not care, but he'll know you belong to someone."
"Jesus, Mulder. What Š what the hell are you doing?"
Using his eyes and a minute nod of his head, Mulder signaled the expressionless
man to move.
Krycek's eyes darted from Mulder to the unknown man, the object in his hand, then
back to Mulder. He smelled heat and a
sudden realization dawned on him.
"Jesus no! Stop him, Mulder. Don't do this. Don't do it!"
Cries of pain filled the room. The smell of burning flesh was intoxicating, making
Mulder's eyes shine as he held Krycek's
head, cradling it against his hip, his fingers running the length of straining tendons
as they stood out against the line of
Krycek's throat. Watching the sweat trickle down his captive's face, mingling with
freshly shed tears, melding their salty
sweetness into some heady musky scent that he would remember until he drew his
last breath, Mulder smiled. Inhaling
deeply, he savored the scent of fear and waited for it to change into the scent of
acceptance.
When it was over, after the cries of anger and pain had subsided, Mulder looked at
the marking. Just an angry blistered red
smear on the inside of Krycek's right thigh, but when it healed it would show the
initials 'FM'.
Looking into Krycek's eyes he whispered 'mine' and kissed the open mouth, not
altogether surprised at the force of the
answering kiss.
~end~
Heated Moments
by Phyre
Krycek stood in the darkened room painfully aware that he had lost control of the
situation, the muzzle of a gun held firmly
against his right temple brought that point home with alarming clarity. His tongue
snaked out and licked at the accumulated
sweat above his upper lip. Oh yeah. I fucked up good this time. He felt Mulder's
breath, moist and warm, and listened
while quietly whispered words tickled his ear, raising the fine golden hairs on the
back of his neck.
