"I wouldn't call a Guardian 380 a toy gun," Scully said. "My mother got it for
me. She said it would fit in an evening bag. As if I ever get a chance to go out
without you interrupting me. Mulder, I could mention this is a Saturday. Why
don't you go play someplace else?"
"I don't have anything to do," Mulder confessed, sighting with the pistol.
"Go get me some ammunition then. I have a lunch date with Mom," Scully said.
"I'll just bring this along so I remember what I'm doing," Mulder said.
"Go ahead," Scully replied. "You might go and see if you can qualify on the
firing range with it. I haven't tried it. Mom forgot, on purpose, to buy
bullets. She has mixed feelings about her little girl's occupation."
Pointedly, Scully said, "Mulder, see you later."
"That didn't take too long," Mulder grumbled. The Lone Gunmen were out of town.
None of his other bravely loyal friends were home. Those were few enough. His
social life had dried up because of long absences, and mayhem that seemed to
defy insurance company coverage when he was around.
"I could go help Skinner do his laundry," Mulder thought.
Nah, once you've seen one AD tighty-white brief, the thrill is gone.
Nothing was new on the porno front, not even at his favorite retailer down the
block. Thank the gods of deviance for the net.
Typically, it seemed as if there was nothing exciting on any of Mulder's
favorite sites, even the adult ones that advertised 'always a hot new streaming
video'.
Perhaps, work would be a solace. Mulder had read some initial reports about a
serial killer in Washington State. He stalked Native American Casinos and
attacked late night stragglers from the gambling establishment, slashing at them
with a machete.
Okay, where had he seen that report? Hmm, none of the news servers seemed to
respond to the search words he used. It was time for drastic measures. Mulder
decided to use Dog Pile and if that didn't work, he'd move on to Web Ferret.
"Seattle Slasher?" Mulder mused, fingers poised over the keys. No, perhaps it
hadn't been in Seattle. He's just enter Slash and see what came up as a result.
He wasn't in a hurry.
Okay, Halloween movies, an Australian site about Golden Showers, and...and...
Shit.
Mulder/Krycek slash?
What the hell?
His brows knit. Perhaps he had surfed into the Consortium's secret database. He
would at last know the truth about Alex Krycek, none of that, 'there is no
truth' shit.
Chewing on his lower lip as if it was lunch, Mulder clicked the first link. At
first, he assumed it was a surveillance picture of his apartment. It was a dark,
but recognizable picture of Krycek kissing him on the cheek. It still gave him
illicit little tingles thinking about it. He was certain now that this was a
Consortium owned site.
"Go away, children, there is slash here."
That was the Consortium's idea of security coding? Mulder scoffed and clicked on
the enter icon.
He read. He wondered. He read and felt very warm. He read and unzipped his
trousers.
He read and had to buy a new keyboard. Wow, so that was why they sold condoms
for keyboards!
Monday morning found him wanked out and determined to put the last story that he
had read into action.
First, he would need good, juicy bait. Assuming the Consortium always read his
e-mail, Mulder exchanged a number of nebulous messages with the Lone Gunmen. He
set up a meeting in the alley outside of his apartment, but called Frohike from
what he hoped was a clean phone, and canceled it. He would be there, however,
and so would Krycek, he hoped.
As Mulder hid in the alley, he had trouble controlling his breathing. He had
read the handful of stories with the same theme repeatedly as he waited for the
hour of his supposed meeting to approach. He just hoped that he wouldn't come
the moment he touched his old enemy. As he waited, he caressed the smooth bore
of the Guardian 380 and shivered with anticipation as he imagined running the
barrel down Krycek's spine until it rested in the sweet hollow above his opulent
ass.
The gun, he thought, was the right way to establish dominance. He should have
sorted out his feelings long ago. He almost felt virtuous about his intentions.
Poor Krycek...Mulder was sure that all his odd, longing looks must have meant
exactly what the slash writers said. The poor boy just needed a firm hand. He
needed to know who was on top. Mulder could give it to him. Why it was not only
sex but also a humanitarian service!
Right on schedule, Krycek sidled into the alley. As always, his gait had that
slightly choppy pace as he scurried from shadow to shadow just like his
namesake. The man hardly was capable of a normal walk. It was either that sexy
strut or this hyper-vigilant scuttle.
Mulder's plan had been to allow Krycek to decide that the meeting had been
called off. He had arrived hours before the time he had given Frohike over their
undisguised e-mail addresses. He assumed Krycek would arrive early for the
meeting to hide...
And he was correct.
Krycek chose the same dark niche behind the dumpster that Mulder had chosen. The
man gasped and as he jumped, Mulder had the incredible luck of disarming him.
The shock of losing the prosthesis also made him drop his Glock.
In a heartbeat, Mulder whirled Krycek around and bent his arm behind his back.
"I have you now," he whispered.
"And my little dog too?" Krycek remarked snidely.
Slamming Krycek into the wall, Mulder said, "Shut-up. This time you are going to
get what you've been asking for!"
"What? A paid vacation in the Bahamas? A winning streak at Harrods? I've always
wanted a classic Indian motorcycle..." Krycek said.
This time, Mulder slammed Krycek into the wall hard enough to make the air
whoosh out of him like a stomped balloon. He glanced around and saw that the
area was still deserted. No one in their right mind would enter the basement of
Mulder's apartment building at this hour. Mulder had left the door propped open
so he could wrestle Krycek into the building without a hitch.
Pinning Krycek firmly, Mulder got his pants and shorts down below his knees,
tearing the zipper as he fought them down.
The struggle was silent until Krycek said, "Mulder, I could scream and you would
be trying to explain to the cops..."
Mulder ran the pistol up Krycek's back, lifting away his black sweater, and
down, tracing the path of Krycek's spine.
"What are you doing?" Krycek said.
"Well, according to the stories, this turns you on," Mulder argued.
"What stories?' Krycek asked.
"The ones about us that the Consortium has been writing," Mulder said.
"Are you crazy?" Krycek asked.
"I'm crazy about you...just hold still," Mulder said. He had prepared in
advance; lubricating the condom covered gun and rolling up the tube so it would
be easy to squeeze out more.
"Fuck....what are you doing? Stop!" Krycek screamed.
But the stories always had Krycek making token protest. After all, he didn't
want Mulder to think he was easy.
The barrel of the gun slipped in easily enough once Mulder had inserted a finger
or two to stretch the opening.
"Mulder, what are you doing? What did you just do? It felt like...did you put a
gun in my butt?" Krycek asked.
Well, Mulder was turned on, but it didn't appear to be having the same effect on
Krycek. "Alex, doesn't that make you want to melt into my arms?"
"No! It hurts. If you wanted to fuck, you should have just said so!" Alex
yelped, bucking backwards to free himself.
There was a long, frozen moment. Krycek said, "Mulder, whatever you thought you
were doing, was it supposed to go up so far?"
"Oops," Mulder said. It was amazing...the Guardian 380 had disappeared. He
couldn't see a trace of the pistol.
"Oops?" Krycek said, "Mulder, get that out of me!"
"Sorry," Mulder said, "that wasn't supposed to happen. It never happened in the
stories."
"You've never done anything like this?" Krycek asked.
"No, have you?" Mulder asked.
"What? Have a gun shoved up my ass?" Krycek replied. "No, what kind of perve do
you think I am? Stop fooling around. Take it out,"
"Here, I think we better go up to my apartment. Maybe if I used something to get
a grip," Mulder said.
Grimacing, Krycek hobbled onto the elevator and hunched in the corner, glaring
at Mulder. "I can't believe you did that to me. Beat me up. Hit me on the head.
Drag me around in handcuffs. I bet you paid those Russian peasants to cut off my
arm!"
"Alex, I'm sorry about that. I'd have never left you if I'd known what would
happen," Mulder assured. This was a fucking disaster. The gun approach was sure
fire in the stories. It should have made Krycek putty in his hands. "I just
wanted to make you hot."
"What wrong with a little seduction? Some booze, a nice dinner? I do well with
that old whisper in the ear and say you love me routine..." Krycek said. He
sniffed and said, "Calling me Alex is a start...my gut hurts. You have to get
this thing out of me"
"I will. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. When you jumped back, my
hand just slipped and I used too much lube," Mulder said, opening his apartment
door.
"Here, just get undressed and I'll see if I can get it out when you're lying
down," Mulder said.
"Okay," Krycek said mournfully.
Sometime later....
"Maybe you can pass it," Mulder said hopefully.
"A gun?" Alex asked incredulously.
"It went in. What goes in, must come out," Mulder said reasonably. "Here, scoot
up a little further and I'll try one more time to see if I can grab it."
A smothered scream greeted Mulder's efforts. Alex curled in a knot, panting with
pain and exertion. "It's stuck."
"Scully's going to kill me," Mulder remarked.
"What does Scully have to do with it? It's my ass," Alex complained.
"It's her gun," Mulder said.
"You 'raped' me with Scully's gun? I think that says something twisted about
your psyche," Krycek remarked.
"Maybe if you have a couple drinks, it would relax you and the gun would come
out. I have vodka," Mulder suggested.
"I'll try anything," Krycek said.
Two shots later, Krycek said, "Try again."
Mulder had the same amount of vodka to keep his would-be sex partner company. He
said, "Sure, come on, buddy, back up on your knees. By the way, you have the
cutest ass that I've ever seen. I even thought so when you were pretending to be
Agent Krycek."
"Really?" Krycek asked and giggled.
As Mulder reached back inside, Alex quivered nervously. Mulder said, "Almost,
almost..."
Krycek sneezed and the pistol slipped away from Mulder. As far as he could
reach, he couldn't feel the gun anymore. Not even the end of the butt.
"Alex, I think we are in trouble. Maybe if you stood up and jumped up and down?"
Mulder suggested.
"Okay, I'll try anything," Krycek said. "My ass is so sore...I can't believe you
thought this was sexy." He sniffed pathetically.
"Yeow!" Alex cried out as he attempted to joggle the gun out of his body.
Doubling over, Krycek moaned, "Help, Mulder, oh, shit, oh shit, I think that I'm
dying. It's pierced something inside me!"
"I'll call an ambulance," Mulder said.
"No, no, no, I'll be the laughing stock of the Consortium if they find out. Are
you sure you didn't do this on purpose?"
"Right, as if I want it known that I like trying to fuck known Consortium agents
with my partner's gun..." Mulder shot back. He said, "I'm going to take a shower
and get dressed. You make up your mind what you want to do."
By the time, Mulder came back; Krycek looked white-faced and had bitten his lip
bloody. Big tearful green eyes looked up at him and Krycek said, "I guess you
better call the ambulance."
"Alex, I'm sorry, it seemed like a good idea at the time. This never happened in
the stories," Mulder said.
"Well, either the writer's didn't know as much as they thought they did or you
did it wrong..." Krycek said. He groaned again, deeper and longer. He looked
utterly panicked.
"I'll call them. Shh, just be calm..." Mulder said.
"You be calm with a pistol in your ass," Krycek replied. His eyes grew even
wider. He asked, "Mulder, was the gun loaded?"
"Of course not," Mulder said.
"You're sure? Did you check?" Krycek pressed.
"I am a professional, Alex!" Mulder retorted.
"Yes, and you said you weren't sleepy when you almost wrecked the car back when
we were partners," Alex said.
"We were never partners," Mulder snapped.
Alex's chin quivered and his hazy green eyes misted over with tears. Mulder
hastily said, "Okay, okay, we were partners. Now, just relax and leave it to
me."
By the time that the ambulance had arrived, Mulder was almost as pale as Krycek.
His unfortunate would-be lover was breathing in shallow grunts. He was sweating
and his fist clutched a pillow as he fought to hold still. He said it felt as if
he was going to rip open every time he moved.
The paramedics took one look and said, "Food poisoning?"
Mulder blushed and said, "He has a Guardian 380 wedged in his large intestine."
"What?" the paramedic asked. The heavyset black man stared at Mulder as the thin
one with red hair stopped dead away and gaped.
"It's a small pistol," Mulder said. "He uh sat on it."
"He sat on a pistol while naked and with...what is that smeared all over him?"
"That shiny stuff is lube," said the red-haired man. A cackle escaped despite an
obvious struggle to repress it.
"Vital signs are stable. We can transport," the heavier man said. "How about
you, mister? You going to follow us in?"
"Yes, I will," Mulder said. He grabbed his mobile phone and his palm pilot in
case he had to reach someone. He patted Krycek and said, "Don't worry. They'll
fix you up, Alex."
Doctor Levi said, "He's resting comfortably."
"Did you have to perform surgery?" Mulder asked fearfully. Krycek was never
going to forgive him. Why had he insisted on something kinky? They could have
just made love...
"No, we put him under, used forceps and got it right out. He's going to be fine.
No perforation," the doctor said. "You and your boyfriend were lucky this time.
I want you both to read this."
Mulder spluttered as he saw, "The Joy of Safe Gay Sex: Sex Toy Volume"
"But I'm not gay," Mulder said.
"That's okay, neither is your boyfriend," Doctor Levi said.
"But..." Mulder said.
"Your boyfriend needs bed rest, lots of liquids, and a soft diet for three or
four days. No sex...lay off the anal sex for ten days and give him a few days to
recuperate before you resume anything vigorous. Do you understand? And no more
objects in his anus!"
The last statement was said with so much emphasis that everyone in the waiting
room stared at Mulder. He sat down and buried himself in his E-Book. Oh, wait,
here was another batch of stories....
Alex looked exhausted and his eyes were still glazed from the drugs. He lay
wearily in the hospital bed. Mulder held out a bunch of white roses like a
shield.
"Hi," Mulder said. "How do you feel?"
"Like someone just delivered a Guardian 380 pistol from my ass with forceps,"
Alex said.
"Is that how they did it?" Mulder asked, intrigued.
"Yes, that is how they did it. What do you think?" Alex snapped.
"Alex, I'm sorry. It seemed so sexy in the stories, which reminds me, I've been
reading again," Mulder said.
"Oh, great, what now? Boxing Helena?" Alex said, his finger on the call button.
"No, no, it's called hurt/comfort," Mulder said. "And we're already to the
comfort part, promise."
The end
Sex Pistol
by Ursula
"Hey, Scully, where did you get this toy gun?" Mulder asked, hefting the deadly
looking, but tiny weapon.
