//Yes. I shouldn't have looked the other way and let it go on as
long as it did. You mean too much to me, Fox. There's nothing
Matheson could give us that's worth going on as we are. Let's go
in there and knock him dead.//
[Let's hope it won't come to that. It would be damned hard to
cover up a senator's death.]
This was wrong, wrong for him and wrong for me. I shouldn't be
feeling this excitement curling in my stomach, this stirring in my
cock, especially not at my age. Especially not for him.
In some ways it shouldn't matter. Fox Mulder was there to be
used. We used him, and they used him, and we used him to stop
them from using him...
But my compatriots hadn't meant for me to use him this way; it
would seem to them like something the other side would do. And
the thought of those withered, nicotine-stained fingers touching
Fox's skin in any capacity made me want to kill... like the others
would kill me if they found out I made our prized stalking horse
into my occasional personal playtoy.
They didn't know what Fox Mulder could be like; if they had, they
wouldn't be able to blame me.
I knew I deserved some of the blame, but I had to say that
Patterson deserved the brunt of it. I would never have started this
if not for him...
I'd respected Fox Mulder. Hell, I still did. He took the scraps of
information we tossed him and pursued them with the speed of a
purebred greyhound and the instinctive skill and tenacity of a
bloodhound. His keen mind and wide-ranging knowledge still
surprised me.
But he was difficult and impatient. He was a rule-breaking
maverick, as most non-standard great minds tended to be, seeing
unnecessary constrictions in the very laws he was sworn to protect
and in the rules that gave the rest of the world a sense of security.
His inability to curb his smart-ass tendencies and his tendency to
demand ever more from the people who helped him didn't make
him easy to deal with.
I'd found out about Fox Mulder's other side, another self I never
would have guessed at, from Patterson. Everyone knew that
Patterson told Mulder stories when he was drunk, but if you got
him drunk alone with you, sometimes he told entirely different
Mulder stories. He still had it bad for his star pupil and seethed
with a sense of betrayal at the kid's departure. He spoke with an
addict's craving about qualities that made me wonder, made me
need to see for myself...
One night, after I had handed over some information, I put the
moves on Mulder just as Patterson had. The response I got...
God, Fox was sweet and obedient and attentive to my every whim.
So submissive and eager to please. He knew things I wanted
before I knew I wanted them. Those eyes that dissected most
people bathed me in warm adoration, and those lips that usually
mouthed off so sullenly showed far more pleasing talents. He had
such incredible skills, yet he came off as so wonderfully innocent
despite his slut's abandon. I found the faint New England accent
he only had before, during, and right after unpleasant... but I told
myself it was a sign of how comfortable he felt with me, that he
could use what must have been the accent of his childhood.
That first time, I told myself it would be the last. The first time he
asked me in all seriousness, with no archness whatsoever, if he had
been a good boy, I once again promised that I would never do this
again.
I kept breaking my promises. I kept telling myself that he must
have needed to be submissive to someone, and that I was just
helping him. He so obviously wanted me, and it felt good to be so
wanted. The power I felt having such a brilliant, difficult,
attractive young man on his knees or bent over my desk didn't help
my resolve either. I ignored the sure knowledge that Mulder had
issues with father figures and that even Patterson had expressed
some self-recriminations even as he went on rationalizing.
And Fox just got better every time...
At first I spaced out our meetings as much as I could, telling
myself I had control. I lied. I knew what I had become, and I even
knew that I was hurting him somehow, but I just couldn't stop. It
didn't help that Fox started to call for more meetings, maybe not
noticeably more to an outsider, but definitely more than we knew
was necessary, like an addict accelerating in his addiction.
If he couldn't help himself, how could I?
This was a perversion of the power and trust conferred on me by
my constituents, both the public and my secret backers. That I used
the office space they'd given me—and got off on using it—for this,
only made it all the more inexcusable.
The door opened to let him in, and I saw him shoot a glance back
at the aides who had escorted him over and remained outside,
unable to hear our business. Such as it was. He had dressed as if
he were going fresh to work: his trenchcoat, suit, and tie all perfect
and immaculate. He looked tense and pale, which made me
nervous, but his eyes blazed with that bright emerald green I
associated with the Fox of our trysts, as opposed to the pine-amber
that seemed to accompany his prickly, difficult side. His body
language contradicted itself, so I tried to be prepared for anything.
I turned up the Mozart on the stereo to cover our conversation.
"I think it would best if I went right to the point, sir. I can't do this
anymore," he said with that slight accent.
Playing dumb wasn't something I made a habit of, but I needed
him to spell it out, even if only in the hope that he didn't mean
what I thought he meant. "What, Fox?"
"This. Us. I've started to feel lately that I'm... whoring with
you for information, and I can't do it anymore. If you still wish to
send me information even without that... component of our
association, I would really appreciate it, but I can't see you like
this anymore."
My mouth went dry. How wise my associates had been. Mulder
couldn't know about my backers or the reasons why we sent him
data, so he had begun to assume... And I couldn't tell him how
wrong he was, or what motives I had. I had hurt him worse than
I'd thought, all unknowingly, and I couldn't explain myself to
make things better. A situation completely FUBAR, and it was all
my fault.
To my shame, I asked, "Could we at least have one more time?"
His eyes briefly flashed, and I knew in that instant that he
wanted it, but he just said, "I think we would be better off going
cold turkey, sir."
I should have been happy for him that he'd managed to get past his
weakness even though I hadn't conquered mine. He was doing the
sane, healthy thing. Keeping sex out of it would return our
exchange of information to a purer state. It was better this way.
But some dark, selfish piece of me whined like a spoiled child. It
had been expecting to feel that luxurious mouth, those clever
hands, and that young body again tonight and burned with
resentment at being denied. It didn't care about Fox's wellbeing or
what would be best; it just wanted.
I then did something I swore to myself I'd never do. Patterson had
told me some of the dirty tricks he'd used on Fox, knowing full
well the coercive effect they'd have on the young man's psyche.
Just having heard these tricks and knowing what they suggested, I
never should have propositioned the boy that first time. But I did,
and now I couldn't stop.
"You will do as you're told, boy. What you think you want
doesn't come into it," I said in my sternest, most authoritative tone.
He stiffened. "Sir?" His voice sounded so small. Afraid.
"Come over here. Now," and I knew my next word damned me
but said it anyway, "son."
"Yes, sir." He started to move. Toward me. His eyes had become
almost blank. I'd seen that look a few times before and had
attributed it to passion, but now I knew that it showed his mind
fleeing far away to where it wouldn't have to face this.
He stood right in front of me, breathing on me. Everything in his
posture said that he expected to be commanded. Expected,
wanted, to be used.
This was horrible. Monstrous. I could still stop it here and do the
right thing.
Instead, my cock got even harder as I watched him standing there,
looking so vulnerable and so damned young, waiting for my next
command. I could tell him to do anything, and he would do it.
Immediately.
In desperation, I had used Patterson's worst trick just to get me a
final night. But I hadn't anticipated how turned on it would make
me.
"Daddy, what do you want me to do?" he asked, softly, and it felt
like fire going through my blood, the lust and horror combined.
The power I had over him right now... I couldn't stop even if I'd
wanted to.
I put my hands on his shoulders and pressed gently down. As he
dropped to his knees, his hands slid down my sides, further stoking
my need. He unfastened my pants and just breathed for a while
against my cock. I leaned back against the desk, my mind clouded
with obscene images of a criminally young Fox Mulder doing this
for other men, maybe even for his father.
It was a liability to want anything this intensely, this blindly, and
not give a damn about the consequences. It was a sin.
I couldn't care.
My pants and underwear had fallen to my ankles, but Fox still
hadn't made any further moves. His hot, humid breath on my cock
felt incredible, but I wanted more. "Stop dawdling, son," I said.
The husky need in my voice stunned me.
He suddenly grabbed my wrist, and something cold closed around
it with a loud click. Then he pulled all the way back and stood up,
his eyes branding me with his disgust and rage. I tried to move
toward him, but the bastard had handcuffed me to one of my desk
drawers. I lost all sense in a haze of my own rage, rattling and
pulling at the cuff impotently.
Fox couldn't stop shaking his head. "I respected you, senator. I
liked you, and you... you... I've gotten better since I was with
Patterson. Yeah, I figured that's who you got this from. Dad's
dead, and I don't have to be anyone's playtoy anymore. Someone
showed me I don't need to give sex to get love. I've gotten to the
point where I can remember all that, even when I have someone
pushing my buttons. I broke loose once my knees hit the carpet.
"I waited there, hoping you would stop it on your own, but you
wouldn't. And then you called me 'son'..." He had his arms
wrapped tightly around himself, as if he felt cold. "I should leave
you like this!"
I felt ashamed of myself and angry and angry that I felt ashamed
and ashamed that I felt angry. I was an old man with his pants
around his ankles and his arm handcuffed to his own fucking desk.
And my cock was still as hard as steel. I had one arm free, so I
could pull my pants up and try to hide my lust from my aides, but
I'd still be handcuffed.
"You can't leave me like this," I said as evenly as possible. He'd
never let me loose if he knew what I wanted to do to him.
"I can do whatever I want to do now."
The little bastard couldn't do this me! "Fox... Mulder." I watched
the expression in his eyes shift as he slid between being my
wounded catamite and the federal agent. "I did something stupid
tonight, stupid and selfish, and I'm sorry. But if you leave me like
this our mutual enemies will take advantage. They might kill me."
I let him ponder whether he could live with that before saying, "I
won't make another move on you."
He nodded and knelt to unlock my cuff. I struggled to stay
completely still, not let any of my emotions spill out before the
proper time. As soon as the cuff came loose, I swung at him...
...and found myself being ground face down into my desk top with
one arm twisted behind me. I may not have seen active duty in a
while, but my reflexes hadn't slowed that much. Yet I hadn't even
had a chance of fighting back; he had moved too quickly and with
a surprising strength. When I struggled, he bashed my head hard
against the desk with a frightening nonchalance.
"This isn't making a move?" His voice sounded cold beyond
imagining. "I should have known I couldn't trust a politician. You
did a very stupid thing. Again."
"My aides are outside." I didn't know what he'd do; I'd never seen
this side of him before.
"But you've turned the music up so loud, and they're used to
ignoring strange noises coming from your office when I'm here."
His voice was taunting, then frighteningly cold. "The only thing
stopping me from killing you is the utter impossibility of me
getting away with it."
Then he pushed me against the desk again and said, "Why, senator,
you're still hard. Are you getting off on this?"
I wanted to choke him, throttle him. I wanted to bend him over my
desk and fuck him until he screamed for mercy. I didn't even care
which side of him I got. I wanted to punish them all for this
humiliation...
He let me go and pushed back. Shaking with rage, I turned to
confront the coldest, darkest eyes I'd ever seen on Fox Mulder. I'd
seen eyes like those before: sociopath eyes, killer eyes. They
almost scared me until I reminded myself of who I was dealing
with.
"You could call your aides in to arrest me—after you pulled up
your pants—but I think you need me free for something, like to
thwart those mutual enemies you mentioned. If you don't make
trouble for me, I won't nail you for any of those little violations
and misuses of power I have on you. Don't look so fucking
martyred. After all, you started this disaster."
Before he left, he said, "I wouldn't start a campaign against me if I
were you. You don't want to see what I'm like when I have
nothing left to lose." He went to the door and opened it just wide
enough for him to slip through, but not enough for my aides to see
inside.
After he was gone I put my clothes back on over my now wilted
cock and tried to figure out how the hell things had gone so wrong,
what I was going to tell my allies... and how I could get Fox back
exactly as I wanted him. I put aside my humiliation and images of
sweet revenge to concentrate on putting the pieces of my plans and
self-respect back together.
Sooner or later, he would be back.
He needed me.
/That went better than I expected./
[We probably made an enemy for life. If only we could take him
out...]
//But we can't.//
/Like I said, better than I expected./
//I'm so proud of you, Fox. You stood up to him and snapped out
of fugue on your own.//
/You have Danny to thank for that. Okay, you don't have to
admit that, but acknowledge it to yourself, Mulder. And,
William, you were great in there. I know you didn't have to get
involved, but you did, and I want to thank you./
William sounded slightly uncomfortable. [He threatened one of
my boys. Besides, I wanted to nail the bastard.]
/I still appreciate it./
//I hate swinging from personality to personality like that in public.
I hope he didn't understand what it meant.//
/I don't think he cared. Our personality meant nothing to him. I
was wrong about another person, dammit./
[Done's done, kid. Once you learn to stop being so optimistic
about people, you'll be fine.]
//Don't start, William. I think Fox deserves a little party for his
achievement. Do you want to go see Pendrell, Fox?//
/Really? You mean it?/
//I don't lie to you.//
/Well... only if William doesn't mind./
[You have to be kidding me. You don't do self-sacrificing very
convincingly, kid.]
/You just saved my bacon, and I want to show you I appreciate
you./
William struggled with the idea before saying, reluctantly, [We'll
go see the labmouse. But don't think this means you can twist me
around your finger.]
/I wouldn't dream of it. Two miracles is the best I can expect
from anyone in one night./
THE END
Withdrawal
by Viridian5
/Are you sure this is all right, Mulder?/
