He stood there for a second in his new home, holding his blanket, pillow,
sheet, toilet paper and other limited supplies he had been given. He put his
bunk together then started putting his other things away. It didn't take long.
He looked down at the lower bunk where his cell-mate was lying. The guard
told him his name was Tom, but he looked more like a slug than a human being.
He had gotten here two years ago, serving fifteen years for dealing. This
person was a quivering mass of agony and pain, his body wracked by coughs and
muscle spasms. They had had a shakedown just before he was going to fix today,
and they took his heroin. Without his fix, Tom was in full withdrawal, and
Alex sensed a long night of coughing and vomiting lay ahead of them. Usually,
when they found drugs, they threw the prisoner in the hole, but Alex guessed
they thought a junkie going through withdrawal and a fish would be an
interesting combination. Tom was curled up on his bare mattress, in the fetal
position, head hanging over the side. A small stream of saliva and puke ran
from his lips to pool on the floor. Alex smirked to himself. This guy isn't
going to be any trouble, but if he keeps me up all night, I'll beat his fucking
head in.
Alex finished putting his meager possessions away and stood at the bars to
his cell, looking down the length of A block. A shudder ran through him as
he realized that this wasn't some pussy joint like holding, this was hard time
in a Federal Maximum Security Prison. He nearly panicked but caught himself;
any sign of weakness and some rustler would be on his ass in a flash. His eyes
flicked to the cell directly across from his for a brief second, not wanting to
make eye contact.
"What the fuck you lookin' at, fish?"
Alex didn't say anything; instead he lowered his eyes and head submissively.
"Dontchu look over here, fish, I got my eye on you."
Alex stood at his bars, eyes to the floor, with his arms folded across his
chest. He was giving the guy a way to win but showed him that he wasn't
letting his guard down.
When he was in holding, he had started fights with the smaller guys, trying
to prove his power. He was so angry that he was incarcerated, so furious at
himself for being stupid enough to get himself into this mess, that he took out
his rage on anyone who looked at him the wrong way. He kept that up until that
gang-banger came in and kicked his ass so bad he was in the infirmary for ten
days. They even had to reschedule his court date due to his injuries.
After that, Alex had learned his lesson, getting into fights only when he
absolutely had to, to defend himself. Here he'd have to keep his nose clean;
you piss one guy off and his whole posse would be on your ass. He didn't know
how we was going to survive in here alone, but there was no way in hell that he
was going to become some guy's bitch just for protection. He'd rather die, and
he knew that it might just come to that.
Alex got on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. The bunk moved with the
junkie's spasms, shaking both men. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but
couldn't. As he had done almost every night for six months, all he could think
about was what got him here.
"It's your round, Luke." Alex slammed his now empty beer bottle on the
table before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Slow down, Alex, we've got all night."
"Which is all the reason to drink more!'
"Yeah, Don, Alex is going to be an FBI agent this time next month, we have
to celebrate."
"Yeah, by this time next month, I'll be putting the bad guys in jail!"
Alex beamed at his high-school buddies and gave them both a high-five. Luke
and Don had driven up here to surprise him before he graduated from Quantico.
He missed this, being with his buddies out getting drunk. For the past four
years, he had been hitting the books and getting top marks so he could be a
g-man, something he had always wanted.
Another round was brought to their table, then another, and still another,
the three men getting drunker and drunker. Finally, they were cut off by the
bartender, almost ending up in a fistfight.
"Yer an asshole, you know that?" Don screamed at the bartender as the other
two led him away.
"'S'no big deal, I know a better bar down the street," Alex slurred.
"C'mon, let's go."
"Fuckin' moron," Don grumbled as he followed Alex and Luke.
They had walked about a block down the street when they were stopped by
Luke. "You see that?"
"What?"
"You see that? Those two guys kissing up there."
"Where?"
"In that doorway."
"Fuckin' fags."
"Yeah, fuckin' fags."
The three men stalked the two in the doorway, unnoticed. One of the men
went inside the building, and the other, a blonde, turned to walk away. Alex
and his friends caught up to them.
"Hey!"
The man stopped and looked at the three drunken men, his mouth broadening
into a nervous smile. "Hey."
The three men remained silent.
"Can I help you?" the blonde asked. "Do you need directions or something?"
"Yeah, we need help all right," Luke slurred. "Help keeping faggots like
you away from decent people."
The blonde suddenly realized that he might be in trouble and started to back
away, but he was too late. Dan punched him in the gut, and as he folded over,
Alex landed a blow on his chin. The blonde gasped loudly as he dropped to the
ground, passing out instantly.
"Fuckn' fag," Luke slurred. "Lookit that, he just dropped like a ton of
bricks." Luke slapped his hands together loudly, to emphasize his point. He
kicked the blonde on the ground in the ribs. "C'mon, a real man would fight
me. Get up and defend yourself."
Alex and Dan were laughing at the man lying motionless on the street, so
drunk they didn't notice the flashing lights of the cop car that had approached
them.
That was six months ago. The blonde, Jamie Ryder, was a 32-year-old man who
had just walked his partner, Michael, home from the movies. Jamie Ryder was
now dead. Either a strange coincidence or bad luck, probably the shock of the
assault, made Jamie have a heart attack with the first blow.
When Alex and his friends were arrested, it was for simple assault at first,
but then the officer tried to take Ryder's pulse as they waited for the
ambulance to arrive and found out he was dead.
"You know what, boys?" the policeman yelled through the window of the
cruiser at Alex and Don, making sure that Luke, in the other police car, could
also hear. "It's your lucky day, fellas, you just got upgraded to murder one.
This guy's dead."
In court, Alex swore, truthfully, he didn't remember anything that happened
after the bar. The charges had been downgraded to manslaughter due to the
heart condition Jamie had, but it still meant hard time.
All three men were convicted and sentenced to the maximum term. His buddies
got to go to the lower security State prison. The judge gave Alex an extra
five years to be served in Federal Prison due to the fact that he was just shy
of being a law enforcement officer. The judge said that Alex needed more
thinking time than the others.
Alex had had plenty of time to think all right, plenty of time to think of
Jamie Ryder. He thought of what he had done to that man just because he was
gay. He still didn't like gays, but somehow that feeling was now muted. Ryder
had been an engineer; he had a family, friends, people who loved him. He
volunteered time to community groups. He had a dog. And now, because of Alex
and his friends, he was dead. Alex had seen the anger and pain in the eyes of
Ryder's mother and father and his sister. He'd seen that and pure hatred in
the eyes of his lover; he dreamed of those eyes every night.
He also had time to think about how he had fucked up his life and his career
with one stupid act. He was top of his class at Quantico; he would have
graduated with honors. He was going to go straight from graduation into a
special unit so secret that no one knew about it but he and his supervisor.
But that was all gone now. Now he was just a number among a sea of numbers, a
criminal, and nothing he did mattered to anyone.
The lights were turned off, and Alex was left in the dark with his thoughts
and Tom spewing his guts out in the stainless steel commode. He sighed and
rolled over on his side, wishing he hadn't done what he had done, and wishing
he was somewhere else.
Fox Mulder walked his beat through the kitchen and dining hall, his hand on
his belt, senses alert for any activity. Guards on the floor were weaponless,
but the hand on the belt made it look like he had something to reckon with.
He had been here three years as a corrections officer in D Block,
Leavenworth and Joliet before that. He knew the ropes better than any of the
other COs in this place; that's why he got moved up to the kitchen. Two guards
were caught stealing supplies and selling them, leaving two spaces for him and
another guard to move into.
Mulder took his place along the wall of the dining hall and watched the
inmates file in to get their breakfast, watching to make sure that no trouble
started in line. As with other prisons, senior officers, including the warden,
were available to talk to during meal breaks. This was so the prisoners could
air their beefs out in the open and not be looked upon as snitches.
He looked at them, one by one, grabbing their trays, cutlery, then food as
they methodically took their places at the tables. As in all other
institutions, the prisoners segregated themselves. Blacks sat with blacks,
whites with whites, latinos with latinos. The Aryan Brotherhood sat together,
the wiseguys all sat together...it was all a part of prison life, fitting in
with a group; there was safety in numbers.
One by one they got their meals and sat with their little groups and
chatted, making deals, carrying on with their criminal activities, even on the
inside. Mulder's eyes narrowed as he saw who he had been looking for—Alex
Krycek.
Alex Krycek was scum of the earth as far as Fox Mulder was concerned. When
Alex had killed Jamie Ryder, he also killed Fox Mulder's best friend's lover.
When Mulder had seen Alex's name on the list of new inmates, he knew this
was his time to get revenge for Jamie's death. He had crafted a plan, and now
he just had to do one more thing before it was put in place.
Alex was scared but fought hard not to let it show on the outside. He
followed the other inmates to the dining hall and through the line at
breakfast, taking his food and carrying his tray to the tables. He didn't know
where to sit or what to do. Everyone knew he was a fish, and Alex knew he
shouldn't look vulnerable. He thought back to his criminology classes at
Quantico; they taught him the psychology of criminals, the activity of
criminals, but never how to be a criminal. He picked a table almost empty of
people and sat at the end. Maybe if he sat by himself, everyone would leave me
alone.
He had just sat down when he heard a voice, "Krycek, isn't it?"
Alex looked up into the face of a man who appeared to be in his sixties but
was probably younger. An obviously hard life had etched deep wrinkles into his
face. He smelled of cigarettes, even across the table.
"What's it to you?"
"May I?" The man motioned to the seat opposite of him.
"I don't care." Alex dug into his food, ignoring the man across from him.
"You know, Krycek...or may I call you Alex?" Alex shrugged and continued to
look at his food.
"Alex, your first time in prison can be a scary one. I can offer you
protection."
"I don't need protecting."
"Oh, but I think you do." The man paused to light a cigarette. "Do you
remember your altercation last night when you first got here?"
"I didn't altercate with anyone."
"The gentleman whose cell is across from yours seems to think so. He doesn't
like people looking at him. That's why the bunk in your new home was vacant."
The man took a drag on his cigarette. "You see, the former occupant of your
home used to look over at this gentleman quite regularly. He didn't like it
and let that fact be known. He has just gotten out of a two month stint in the
hole, and he's still angry. Unfortunately, Alex, your house assignment
coincided with his untimely return. Now he wants to do the same to you. He is
clearly insane, but no one here cares."
Alex felt sick to his stomach; he had been here just shy of twelve hours,
and already he had a death threat. "So, what's it to you?"
"As I said, I can offer you protection." The man took a long drag on his
cigarette. "For a price."
"I don't suck cock"
"Did I imply any such thing?"
"Look, I don't know who you are, but I'm not going to be your fuck-toy. You
can find yourself another slave."
"I don't need a fuck-toy, Alex. I need someone to run errands for me from
time to time. To deliver messages, if you will."
Alex looked at his food and moved it around on his tray. He knew he needed
protection in here; he couldn't be out there in general population alone with
no one to back him up. Then again, he didn't want to suck anyone's dick or be
their slave. And even if he had been willing to, this guy sure wouldn't be his
choice.
The bell rang, indicating breakfast was over. The man got to his feet.
"Think about it, Alex, I'll be waiting."
Alex didn't say anything. He instead got to his feet and shuffled out of
the dining hall and back to his cell. When he got back to his house, he saw
the man who lived across from him waiting outside his door.
"Hey, fish."
Alex ignored him and tried to get inside his house, but the man blocked his
path.
"I'm talking to you, fish."
Alex kept his gaze downward as he stood before the man.
"You had no right to scope me out last night, fish. You had no right to
fucking look at me. You some fucking fag or something?"
Alex tried to keep calm, but his temper got the better of him, he looked the
other man in the eye. "I'm not a fag."
"Yeah, then why were you scoping me out?"
"I wasn't looking at you." Alex's voice was low, his eyes narrowed.
"Bullshit." The man pushed him backwards. "You want my ass, fag? You want
me? 'Cause you can't have me. I'll be fucking your ass before you get to me."
He pushed Alex again, the rage making his face red.
Suddenly the man struck Alex on the cheek, making Alex's teeth shake to
their roots. Alex struck back, getting the man in the belly before punching up
under his chin. The man was no match for Alex, who had extensive training in
self-defense. Soon, the other man was lying on the floor, unconscious, bleeding
from his mouth. He didn't notice the flurry of activity around him until the
guards wrestled him to the ground. The guards soon had him cuffed and in their
possession, dragging him up to the Lieutenant's office to see what fate beheld
him. They knocked on the door.
"Enter."
The two guards shoved Alex through the door and forced him into a chair in
front of a large desk covered in neat stacks of files. The man sitting behind
the desk was a large, bald man with glasses. The plaque on the front of the
desk said "Walter Skinner." The man finished what he was doing before looking
up at Alex, his face expressionless.
"Who do we have here?"
"Alex Krycek, sir, prisoner number 85312961. He was caught fighting with
Fitzpatrick."
"Krycek, huh?" Skinner rummaged through the files on his desk until he
found the one he was looking for. He opened it, looked it over then looked up
at the prisoner before him. "You've only been here one day, boy."
Alex remained silent.
"One day and you're beating on a member of the Irish Clan? Are you retarded
or just stupid?"
Alex remained expressionless, but his insides were quivering, and he felt as
if he was going to throw up. He had no idea that guy was part of a gang; he
would have left him alone if he did.
"Quantico, top of your class." Skinner shook his head, "You're a smart guy,
Krycek, how'd you end up in here?" Skinner said as much to himself as to Alex.
"Beating up people...manslaughter...trouble in holding."
Skinner looked up at Alex, crossed his arms in front of his chest and sat
back. "I'm putting you in the hole for a week. I was going to make it three
days, but the Irish need to calm down, or they're going to kill you. I also
want you to enroll in an anger management course, something you should have
done a long time ago."
Skinner signed something with a flourish then nodded to the guards. Alex
was dragged out of the office, through a door, and down a flight of stairs to
the hole. The hole was a block of solitary cells, where the lights were never
turned off. You were provided with a bucket for feces and urine, and that was
all. The guards pushed Alex into his cell, where he landed with a groan on the
floor. He sat down in the cleanest corner in the room, the one farthest away
from the door with the small window in it, put his face in his hands, and
started sobbing.
Fox Mulder smirked to himself when he found out Alex Krycek was in the hole
already, for kicking one of the Irish' ass no less. He's either stupid or has
a death wish, he thought to himself. He held the new roster for the kitchen
staff in his hand; Alex Krycek's name was on it. It was no small feat getting
him on that list; inmates were rewarded with jobs in the kitchen, and Krycek
had just gotten here. It paid the best and held the highest prestige. Mulder
knew Krycek would probably get into a few scraps before his first week was out
with people on the waiting list, but he didn't care. Actually, beating on one
of the Irish Clan worked in Alex's favour to get along with the others. The
Italians, who ran the kitchen, hated the Irish, and this would reflect well on
Alex.
Krycek and three others would start in the kitchen a week after Krycek got
out of the hole. Unfortunately, Tagerelli, who ran the place, didn't like it.
"What the fuck you shaking things up for?"
"You keep bitching about being under staffed, and now when I give you some
more people, you're complaining."
"They ain't Italian, Mulder."
"So what? You don't have a choice in the matter, Tagarelli; everyone gets
rotated sooner or later."
"I run this fucking kitchen."
"And I run this fucking joint. The new guys are coming, whether you like it
or not." Mulder walked away from the Italian, grateful he didn't have a wife
or family that could be hurt on the outside.
A week passed and Alex was let out of the hole. At the beginning he was
scared, then he was mad, now he was just tired. He had hardly slept the whole
time, with the lights on and no mattress. Finally, they let him out of there so
he could go back to his own House. He detoured to the showers then returned to
his cell, where he was met by the old man again.
"How did you enjoy your time in the hole, Alex? Did you think about my
offer?"
"Fuck you."
"You know, Alex, the Irish Clan have been talking about you. They are quite
angry that you hurt one of their people. There is a bounty on your head." The
man bent his head and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before speaking
again. "With my protection, they will leave you alone."
"Look, I told you, I don't want to be your bitch; look for some other guy to
suck your cock."
"And I told you, Alex, I don't want sexual favours. I need someone to
perform certain duties for me. Duties that your training and background will
suit most favourably."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You were training to be an FBI agent, Alex. I could use your expertise on
a few jobs."
Alex sighed and leaned against the wall. He did need some sort of ally in
here.
"What kind of jobs?"
"Little things. When the time comes, I'll let you know."
Fuck! "I don't have to suck your, or anyone else's, cock?"
"I assure you, that is not part of the plan."
"I'm not doing your fucking laundry or cleaning up after you."
"Again, Alex, that's not why I require your presence."
Alex muttered under his breath for a minute, "All right."
"I'm glad, Alex." He held out his hand, "My name is Spender. CGB Spender.
Everyone calls me the Smoking Man."
Alex tried to keep calm as he shook the man's hand. He knew he should have
paid more attention to the man's face and tried to think of who he could be.
He never expected the Smoking Man though.
The Smoking Man was a notorious serial killer, who had killed people for
sport. He would kidnap young men and women, make them run through the forest
at night and hunt them with a bow and arrow. When the FBI found the bodies,
they had cigarette butts creatively stowed in their bodies, hence the term
Smoking Man. He had killed 32 people by the time they arrested him twenty
years ago. He was serving 32 life sentences; he would never leave this place
while he was still breathing. The pictures Alex had been shown of him at
Quantico were grainy and from the '70s. His hair was longer, and he had looked
younger, a lot younger than he did now.
Alex took the man's hand and shook it.
"Very good, Alex. Now, put a request in with Lieutenant Skinner and have
yourself transferred to my cell."
Alex put in the request, but before it was approved, he had to have another
meeting with Skinner. Skinner thought Spender was trying to put the moves on
Krycek, but Krycek was determined to move, and all Skinner could do was to warn
him about people preying on fish. With the warning, he let Alex relocate his
things.
The Irish Clan were going to move on Alex that evening, but when they saw
him move his things into Spender's cell, they backed off. Unknown to Alex, a
few years ago Spender had done the same thing. He had found a young man,
willing to run his errands, and one of the Latino gangs beat him up. The next
day, one of the gang members went missing. They found him weeks later,
dismembered and stuffed in garbage bags. No one fucked with Spender or his
errand boy.
It was that night that Alex got the word that he was to be working in the
kitchen. He reported for duty a week later to Tagarelli at 4:00 a.m.
"I don't want no fucking shit from any of you. You fuck with me and I'll
fuck you right back, you all got that?" Tagerelli stalked in front of his new
employees, barking out his rules. "No stealing, no spitting, no bullshit.
You do your job and you keep the fuck outta my way. Got that?"
No one made a sound.
"Good. Now you're all on dish detail until I say otherwise. No moaning or
fucking groaning, or your ass is outta here, and someone else can take your
place."
The men got to work, washing dishes, stacking trays, and preparing for the
morning meal. Alex did what he was told and kept his mouth shut. He was
grateful to be working here and to have something to do all day rather than sit
around breathing in second hand smoke from his new friend.
Spender was creepy. He talked creepy, he acted creepy, he looked creepy.
Alex didn't like him or trust him. So far, his errands had consisted of going
down to the commissary to buy the old guy cigarettes and hard candy. It was a
wonder he had any teeth left in his mouth the rate he chewed that shit and
smoked.
The first wave of people came in for breakfast, Alex was kept busy getting
the trays clean and back in rotation as soon as possible. He was so busy he
didn't notice the guard wandering through the area.
"Everything okay, Tagarelli, your new people working out?"
"Yeah, they're working out."
"Good."
Mulder took another walk through the kitchen, looking his target up and down
before leaving to supervise the inmates eating.
Alex was tired. He had never worked so hard in his life. Quantico was a
breeze compared to this place. He had never had to do manual labour before,
and his back and arms ached from lifting the heavy baskets of trays out of the
dishwasher. His feet were killing him from standing all day. Thanks to his
parents' money, he had never even had to do this kind of job in highschool, for
godsakes. He wearily walked back to his home, where the old man was waiting
for him.
"Enjoy your first day, Alex?"
"I guess so. It's hard work."
"Of course it is. Tell me, did anything exciting happen today?"
"No. Just dirty trays, clean trays, that's about it."
"Let me know if anything interesting pops up."
Alex shrugged, "Sure." No fucking way am I gonna snitch for you, Alex
thought as he stretched out on his bunk.
"I'm out of cigarettes, Alex."
Alex groaned, "I can't move, I'm too tired."
Suddenly, the old man was upon him, grabbing him by the collar. "I said, 'I
am out of cigarettes, Alex!'"
Alex looked into the milky white blue eyes of the old man, his bad breath
assaulting his nostrils. He swallowed.
"I provide protection for you for simple tasks like this. Would you rather
I turned you out in gen pop by yourself? Do you want to go up against the
Irish again, because next time you'll loose without me. Do not fuck with me,
Alex, is that clear?"
Alex remained silent.
"I said, is that clear, Alex?"
"Y-y-yes."
"Good. Now get me my fucking cigarettes. NOW!" the old man hissed at Alex.
Alex scrambled off of his bunk and got him his cigarettes from the
commissary. When he got back, he found the old man sitting on the solitary
stool connected to the metal desk waiting for him.
"Ah, my cigarettes. Thank you, Alex." He took the carton from Alex as if
nothing had happened.
"You're welcome," Alex said barely above a whisper, climbing on top of his
bunk. He lay there until he had to get down for count, then lights out. He
tried to sleep, but he was too freaked out by this old man. He knew he was
between a rock and a hard place, and so did the smoking man. He just hoped
that he didn't have to do anything too awful for him.
Alex sighed and rolled over onto his side and lay there, staring at the
brick wall of his cell until sleep claimed him a few hours later.
Fox Mulder watched Krycek work in the kitchen. He was a hard worker, he'd
give him that much. He might even be able to shave a couple of years off his
sentence if he kept his nose clean.
Mulder had plans for Krycek, but he had to wait until the time was right.
Especially now that he was shacked up with that crazy old smoking bastard. He
knew Krycek didn't take it up the ass from him, but it still bothered him.
For a month, he watched Krycek wash and stack trays for nine hours a day
from four in the morning until one in the afternoon. He saw Krycek get
comfortable in his surroundings and even start to gain some respect from the
other men in the kitchen. After a few weeks, Alex was moved up to garbage
detail, so he was now able to take a breather from the chaos in the kitchen as
he lumbered the large bags to the dumpster in the back. Twice a week, special
trucks came to collect the garbage, which was compacted first in the special
dumpster to discourage any escapes.
His second day on garbage detail, Mulder followed Alex out to the dumpster.
"Hey."
Alex didn't say anything.
"You're Krycek, right?"
"I'm not talking to you."
"Weren't you supposed to be some FBI agent or something?"
"Fuck off, hack," Alex said, before turning to walk back into the kitchen.
Mulder caught him by the arm.
"I just want to talk to you."
"I can't talk to you." Alex squirmed away from Mulder's grasp and went back
into the kitchen.
The next month, the shift changed and Alex was working one to ten. Since the
shift ended at lights out, the kitchen staff was escorted to their cells by the
hacks.
Mulder also changed shifts. He arranged to work for a fellow CO who was
taking a night course for two months. This gave him plenty of time to spend on
his new project.
One night, Alex was having a tough time getting the bags into the already
overflowing dumpster. The truck had broken down, and there had been no
collection all week. In an institution that served over three thousand meals a
day, that meant a lot of garbage.
Mulder silently crept outside and stood against the wall, waiting for Alex
to finish. He finally got the bags up on top of the other bags, teetering
precariously on their perch.
"Fuckin' truck better come tomorrow."
"I hear it's not coming until Wednesday."
Alex turned around quickly at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowed.
"What the fuck you want?"
"I told you before, I want to talk."
"I've got nothing to say to you."
"Well, I've got plenty to say to you." Mulder quickly pressed Alex against
the dumpster, his arm at his throat. "You scream, you try to run, you hurt me
in any way, or tell anybody about this, and I'll have you in the hole for the
rest of your fucking term, you got that?"
Alex stared into the dark hatred that clouded Mulder's eyes. He couldn't
talk with Mulder's arm pressed against him like that.
"Good," Mulder sneered at him before spinning him around to face the
dumpster. He cuffed Alex's hands behind his back.
Alex could smell and feel the garbage that had slopped down the side of the
dumpster. He groaned and tried to squirm free, but Mulder held him fast.
"You know, Krycek, you've got a sweet, sweet ass," Mulder said as he undid
the fastenings on Alex's pants and dragged them down. He kicked Alex's legs as
far apart as they could go.
Alex's eyes grew wide with horror. "No!" he wailed.
"Shut the fuck up, Krycek. Anyone hears us, or hears about this and you're
fucking dead, you got that?"
"No, please," Alex tried to squirm free again but was answered with a punch
in the kidney. Alex gave a groan and rested his forehead against the filthy
container to keep from collapsing.
"Shut the fuck up." Mulder had his pants unfastened and brought his cock
out, spitting on his hands to lubricate it.
"Please, no, please," Alex whimpered, barely audible to Mulder.
"I told you to shut the fuck up," Mulder growled in his ear as he pushed his
member against the tight entrance.
Alex was about to scream, but Mulder put his gloved hand over Alex's mouth.
He drove in with a shove, hearing the man's muffled sobs beneath the leather.
Mulder pumped hard and fast, not bothering with his captive's pleasure. He
came with a grunt and a moan inside him, only then taking his hand away from
Alex's mouth. He quickly put himself back inside his pants and did them up.
Alex was crying; he had never felt so filthy and disgusting in his life.
Here he was trying to protect himself from the other inmates, only to have a
guard fuck him up the ass.
"Turn around, Krycek."
Alex reluctantly turned, his hands still cuffed behind his back. He was
embarrassed that he was hard; he hadn't enjoyed that at all.
Mulder grabbed his cock. "You've got a very nice cock, Krycek. I like it a
lot. I can't wait until you fuck me with it one day." Mulder began to stroke
Alex, seeing him fight the pleasure until he couldn't hold back anymore and let
out a moan.
"Yeah, this cock is real nice. You know what, Alex? You took it up the
ass, you're a fuckin' punk now; a prag."
Alex moaned again, "I'm not a fucking punk, I don't like it."
"Doesn't matter, Alex, you still took it. Now I'm willing not to tell your
colleagues if you don't."
Alex let out another moan. Mulder was jerking him harder now, his thumb
pressing on the spot just below the head.
"All you have to do is meet me when I tell you to, and your secret is safe
with me."
Alex barely heard him; he closed his eyes, about to come, but then Mulder
stopped stroking him and grabbed his scrotum, squeezing it hard. Alex's eyes
flew open, and a gasp left his mouth.
"Is that a deal, Krycek?"
"Please."
"Yes, or no, because I can call Tagarelli out here if you like. You know
what wiseguys think of fags, Krycek?"
"Please, I...what did I do to you?"
"Yes, or no, Krycek?"
"Fuck, yes."
"Good."
Another gasp left Alex's mouth as Mulder kept squeezing his balls but
resumed stroking his cock. A minute later, a strangled cry left Alex's lips as
he came on the filthy pavement beside the dumpster. Mulder undid his cuffs and
put them back in their case at the back of his belt.
"C'mon, get yourself together; I got to get you back to your cell."
Alex did up his pants. He could feel the come seeping out of his ass and
onto his underwear as he tried to regain his composure and walk back to the
kitchen without passing out.
Mulder threw his keys on the dining room table when he got home from work
early that morning. Working nights was a bitch. Even though he was dead
tired, he decided he was not going to sleep right away. He needed to unwind.
Seeing as though it was technically morning, he made himself some bacon and
eggs and sat down to read his sister's latest letter. Sam was doing well now;
she had her own medical practice, and she was seeing someone "special," she
said. As usual, she begged Fox to quit his job and come live with her. She said
that it was her turn to pay him back for giving up his dreams to take care of
her and put her through school after their parents died. But Fox had let go of
his dreams of becoming anything else a long time ago, and he wasn't interested
in living off his little sister's charity. He would send her a nice, chatty
letter, and that would take care of the problem for another couple of months.
After he cleaned up the tiny kitchen, Fox went into the living room and put
on some music. He couldn't stop thinking about Alex Krycek. He'd only intended
to hurt and humiliate the little bastard, but as soon as he got his hands on
him, got inside him, he lost control. The pretty boy had felt so good and,
despite himself, had been incredibly responsive. Krycek would probably rather
die than admit it, but he had been excited by Fox's touch, had liked it deep
down. Mulder had meant to rape him once to make him like the "faggots" he
despised, but now that he'd had him, he knew he had to have him again. That was
why he'd made Krycek swear to keep quiet about what happened and made that deal
with him for future encounters.
Even though Mulder hated Krycek for the pain he'd caused Michael, his
lifelong best friend and first lover, he couldn't deny that the young man was
beautiful. Who could ignore that silky dark hair and those bright green eyes?
Add that to the way he moved, and the man was a walking advertisement for sex.
Mulder intended to accept the unconscious and admittedly unwilling invitation
every chance he got. He wondered if any of the other prisoners would go for
Krycek.
Alex could probably hold his own and fight them off. He worked out every
day in the gym and was strong. As long as that Spender freak was his cellie,
no one was going to touch him, and Spender couldn't fuck him, even if he wanted
to. It was well known among the COs that Spender had been left impotent after
one of his errand boys stabbed him repeatedly in the balls and groin. He'd
been lucky to survive, although he probably didn't think so. After that, old
Spender couldn't get it up or get aroused in any way. Mulder smirked to
himself. Nope, no one was going to touch Krycek...no one but him. A warm
feeling ran through him as he thought of Krycek's hard muscles beneath the
prison issue blues that he wore.
Thinking of Krycek had had an effect on Mulder, and he unzipped his pants
and pulled out his cock to take care of it. He stroked himself, imagining that
it was Krycek's hand on him, Krycek's mouth sucking him, begging him for more.
He could picture those pretty pink lips distended around his cock while Krycek
took him all, feel his tongue fluttering along his length in place of his own
fingertips, and he groaned. He was looking forward to the day the gay-basher
begged to be fucked, begged for his cock in his mouth and ass. Judging by how
easy it had been to make him come tonight, it shouldn't take too long. He was
already imagining that muscular body on hands and knees, ass thrust upwards
waiting for him. He was going to have to find a good place to take Krycek where
they wouldn't be disturbed while he trained the young man to please him. Just
picturing a naked Krycek kneeling at his feet was enough for Mulder, and he
came, gasping hoarsely. Yes, this was going to be fun.
Alex barely dragged his ass out of bed for count the next morning. He
winced as he hopped down from his top bunk, groaning as the impact of his feet
hitting the concrete jarred his body. He joined his cell-mate outside, got
counted, then turned to go back to bed. He had been going to stay in bed at
the outset but at the last minute, made sure he was up for count; he didn't
need any hassles today, especially after what had happened last night. Then
again, a stint in the hole might get this Mulder asshole off his back.
"Alex...Alex..."
"What?" Alex snapped, turning to face the old man, who had a look of
displeasure on his face.
"Are you ill, Alex, you're not acting like yourself today?" The old man was
in his face, leering at him, and Alex could smell the nicotine and smoke
emitting a pungent odor from his pores. His mouth turned down into a sneer as
he waited for his reply.
Alex swallowed, he knew better than to piss the old guy off. "Sorry, I...I
had a late shift last night. I couldn't sleep either. I'm tired."
"Perhaps if you need help sleeping, we could get you something?"
"No, I'm fine. I'm just going to go back to bed for awhile."
"I am going to breakfast, Alex. Then I am going for my walk in the yard.
When I get back, I expect my coffee and my cigarettes ready."
"Yes, sir." Alex waited until he was out of sight before he shuddered
visibly. He hated calling that old fuck sir, but the last time he didn't do
it, the old man smashed all of his audio cassettes and walkman. He also hated
the fact that he called him by his first name. Everyone in here called each
other by their last names; calling someone by their first name meant you were
over them. Alex shuddered again. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
He climbed back into his bunk and pressed his face into his pillow. He
tried to sleep, but images of last night began assaulting his thoughts. He had
gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the washroom and noticed the come
and blood staining the fabric of his underwear. He had climbed back into bed
and lain down, praying for sleep to come, tears streaming down his face and
into his pillow. He was grateful the old man had been asleep; he didn't want
him to know about this. If he found out Alex took it up the ass, even that one
time, he might want to do it to him as well.
He thought of the hatred he saw in that hack Mulder's eyes. Why had he done
this to him? What made him hate Alex? He didn't even know him. The tears
were starting to flow again, so Alex rolled over onto his side and faced the
wall, silently screaming to himself in his mind until a while later when, out
of sheer exhaustion, sleep claimed him for a few hours.
Alex nervously walked into the kitchen for his shift that afternoon,
glancing around to see if Mulder was there. He relaxed when he didn't see him,
grabbed his tray and loaded it up with food. He then sat down with the other
workers in the kitchen and listened to them gossip about each other and the
fact that baseball was starting that week.
Everyone around him was joking and laughing, calling each other down for the
baseball teams they liked. Alex was a million miles away, still thinking about
last night. He couldn't believe that something like this had happened to him.
He was a man; men don't get raped. He should have fought back, should have done
something to protect himself. He'd have to get a shank and keep it on him for
when he took out the garbage, then he could defend himself. He sighed inwardly
as he mindlessly ate his dinner. Who was he kidding? Mulder was a hack, Alex
was a con, if he tried to do anything, it would mean weeks, even months in the
hole, then more charges. Alex just wanted to serve his sentence and get the
hell out of here.
He finished his dinner and stood to get to work with the others. No one
noticed that Alex had not joined in the conversation. The new guys weren't
Italian, so they were ignored a lot. He got down to his job as they fed the
other cons their dinner. He was soon engrossed, clearing trays and emptying
the garbage. He didn't notice Mulder come in and stand along the wall of the
dining hall about 6:00. Alex had just finished rinsing off a stack of trays
and was loading them in the dishwasher when he looked over the steam line and
saw him. His heart started beating faster and his face turned red as they made
eye contact. Mulder didn't do anything; he just stared at him, making Alex
feel uncomfortable.
He continued doing his job, his heart racing every time he had to dump a bag
into the dumpster at the back, expecting to see Mulder there. When Mulder
didn't show, he relaxed a little, wondering if it was just a one time thing.
Later, at the end of the shift, Alex hurried to get all the garbage cleaned up
and placed into the dumpster so he could finish and be escorted back to his
cell with the others.
"Krycek!" Tagarelli bellowed.
"Yeah?" Alex walked over to the large Italian.
"See those boxes? We gotta break 'em down and put 'em in the room over there
for recycling." Tagarelli jerked his thumb towards a room filled with
containers to segregate recycling.
Alex kept his expression flat; when Tagarelli said we, he meant you.
"Sure." Alex went over to the room and started to break down the boxes,
hurrying his job. He heard the other inmates leave and started to panic. He
had to finish his job, he didn't want Tagarelli's wiseguy friends on him, yet
he didn't want to be here alone. Fuck! He worked faster, his hands
ripping the cardboard, flattening the cartons that had held produce and other
foodstuffs.
"I see the truck came."
Alex nearly jumped when he heard the voice behind him. A fine layer of
sweat instantly coated his body as he stood there, not turning to verify who it
was. He knew damn well who it was. "Keep the fuck away from me, hack." Alex
turned slowly, fists clenched, ready to defend himself.
"What's the matter? Didn't you enjoy yourself last night, Krycek?"
Alex backed up so he was against the container that held the cardboard.
Mulder was moving closer to him. "I thought it was okay. With a little
practice, you'll get better."
Alex opened and shut his mouth in horror, not again, no way! He lunged
forward to strike Mulder but was stopped by a sharp pain that radiated down his
arm and through his body, making his knees weak. Before he knew it, he was
being cuffed to the rail at the top of the container that held the cardboard.
"Tasers are fun, dontcha think, Krycek?"
Krycek couldn't speak; he just hung there by his wrist, his legs barely
supporting him. Mulder began unfastening Krycek's pants "Don't fuck with me,
Krycek. You'll do this and you'll like it, or else everyone will know you're
my prag." He pulled Alex's trousers down to his ankles then cupped his face in
his hand and made him look him in the eye. "You try to hit me again, and I'll
cut your dick right off. You understand?"
"Fuck you," Alex groaned, the effects of the taser shock wearing off.
"You're offering now?"
Alex looked up at Mulder, a look of pure hate on his face. "Go fuck
yourself, Mulder. What the hell do you have against me anyway?"
Mulder shocked Alex with the taser again, this time on the knee. He watched
as Alex's body bucked from the shock.
Alex let out a cry, then hung limp from the cuffs for a minute before he
came around. He had a choice to make; he could do this the hard way and get
his ass kicked, or electrocuted, or killed; or he could do it the easy way. He
couldn't let Mulder win; he couldn't give in to him. So he shocked himself
when he said, "Just do it and get it over with."
"No. Not today. Today I'm gonna see what you have to offer." Mulder
reached up and uncuffed one of his hands from the railing. "C'mon, let's see
how good you are."
"What?"
"I want you to play with yourself, jerk off, then come. You don't come and
I'll fuck you up the ass. You don't do it the way I like it, I'll fuck you up
the ass." Mulder laughed, "Then again, maybe I'll just fuck you up the ass
anyway."
Mulder dragged a chair over from the corner and sat down, his hand fondling
the taser. "C'mon, Krycek, show me what you got. If you do a good job, I'll
take you back to your nice, comfy cell."
Alex didn't think anything could make him hard under these circumstances; he
was limp and didn't feel very aroused at all. He moved his hand down to grab
himself. He held his flaccid cock in his hand and started stroking himself,
fantasizing about every girl he had ever been with. It didn't work. He
thought of his porn collection at home in the world, movies he had seen. It
still didn't work. After a few minutes, he looked at Mulder and shrugged.
"I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't. You saw...nothing's working."
"What are you thinking about? Women?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that could be your problem." Mulder unzipped his pants, brought out
his semi-rigid cock and started to caress it lightly.
Alex looked at Mulder slowly stroke himself and licked his lower lip. He
felt his groin stir slightly.
"See, you're just thinking about the wrong thing."
Alex saw Mulder look directly at his cock; he was getting off on his nudity,
his vulnerability.
Mulder brought his hand up to his mouth and licked the palm, returning it to
stroke himself before meeting Alex's gaze. "Look at my cock, see how beautiful
it is? You want this cock, don't you, Krycek? You want to suck on this cock
with your mouth; you want this cock up your ass. Just looking at it's turning
you on. See how it likes you? Yeah, you want it; I know you do."
Alex tried to resist, but Mulder was right; he was getting turned on. He
felt himself harden in his hand.
"C'mon, Krycek, show me what you got."
Alex started to massage his stiffening member slowly, this did feel
incredibly good. He looked over at Mulder, who was doing the same thing.
"See, you like this. It feels good, doesn't it?" Mulder breathed. "Yeah,
harder, harder, Krycek."
He and Mulder stroked themselves together. Alex's eyes were closed, and his
mouth was slightly open. He gripped himself harder and pulled faster, making
himself whimper with every stroke. God, this felt good; he hadn't done
anything like this for a long time. He was always too paranoid to jerk off in
his cell; he just quelled his feelings and suffered.
"You ready, Krycek?"
Alex moaned.
"I said, you ready, Krycek?"
"Yeah....oh, yeah."
"Come. Come now."
Alex opened his eyes and looked at Mulder jerking himself, and he let out a
moan as he released himself and came all over the shiny, grey-painted concrete.
He milked himself of his last drops then leaned back against the container,
breathless.
Mulder stood and walked over to him, cock standing proud out of his open
pants. "That was good, Krycek, you really have a way of making me hot." He
spun Alex around and cuffed his free hand to the rail with the other one.
"Wait, what are you doing? I thought you said that's all I was gonna have
to do!" Alex wailed.
"I said maybe. You made me so hot that I got to fuck you, Krycek."
"No!"
Mulder moved in close and rubbed his erection against Alex's ass cheeks.
"Yeah, you're hot, Krycek. I love your sweet ass. How can I not fuck you?"
Alex gripped the rail at the top of the container, trying to wrench it off,
but it held fast. Mulder kicked his legs apart, then he felt him rub something
cool and slick on his anus.
"It's a good thing you boys keep the floors so clean in here. Can't let
this lube go to waste." Mulder entered a finger inside and spread the smooth
walls of anus with the come he had scraped off the floor.
Alex didn't know what he meant and didn't care. He braced himself and
closed his eyes as he felt Mulder enter him, this time slower than the last.
It didn't hurt as much due to the lube that he had used. Alex's eyes flew open
as he realized what the comment about the clean floor meant. He closed his
eyes again; there was nothing he could do but wait until Mulder was finished.
Mulder embedded himself in Krycek with a final push then started to move
rapidly in and out of Krycek. He did have a sweet ass; it was so tight. He
angled his thrusts so that Krycek's prostate was caressed with every stroke.
He could feel the other man start to enjoy himself, could feel his hips move
back ever so slightly into his thrusts.
"You like that, Krycek? You like it when I fuck your ass?"
Alex didn't answer, instead he bit his lower lip until it bled. How could
he be liking this? How could he find such pleasure in this act? But no matter
how hard he tried, he couldn't prevent himself from pushing back, angling his
body to make it easier for Mulder to go deeper inside him. He let out a moan,
tears of humiliation welling up in his eyes, as Mulder sped up his pace, moving
his hips back and forth faster and faster. He could hear their skin slapping
against each other as he reached around to feel Krycek. He knew he would be
hard. He knew he was getting off on this. Mulder grabbed Krycek's cock,
gripped him hard and stroked him to completion, not before he came deep into
Krycek's ass with a grunt.
Mulder pulled out immediately and wiped his cock on some paper towels that
were stored nearby. He uncuffed Alex and held out a length of paper towel.
Alex silently wiped himself up and pulled up his pants. Mulder put himself
together and led Alex out of the kitchen. Not a word was spoken as Mulder
escorted Alex to his cell.
Alex got undressed and into his bunk. He lay there and stared at the
ceiling for a long time before rolling over on his side and falling asleep.
Hardened Criminal
by Nicole S and Orithain
The metal bars of the jail cell slammed shut in front of Alex Krycek's face
with a loud thud and clang. His tongue flicked to the cut he recently received
on his lip during his orientation this afternoon. It had included a shower, a
medical exam, fingerprints and a full, thorough strip search, and although Alex
had had them before, he resisted. A few solid punches later by the guards, and
he was bent over with someone's latex-covered digit up his ass.
