Krycek pulled away, but the smoker grabbed on to the back of his neck and Krycek
froze. "You will do this," the smoker said, mildly.
He had just gotten his hair cut, and the man's hand against his denuded skin made
him angry. The smoker must have noticed because he began stroking down the line
of his neck. "Be very nice, Krycek," he whispered. "I don't want you to blow
this."
Krycek glanced at the man sideways. "I thought you did," he said, flatly.
"Room 826. Good luck."
Krycek pulled away from the smoker and let the doorman open the door for him
without meeting his eye. It was a different feeling, but then he had never worn a
tuxedo before. No one questioned him as he went to the elevators and told the
lift operator what floor to go to.
He knocked on 826. The door opened, and an old man answered the door, half
dressed with his bow-tie over his shoulders and his shirt untucked. His eyes
narrowed as he looked Krycek up and down, and Krycek forced himself to remain
impassive. The man lifted Krycek's chin to the right and left, and then ran a
hand down his chest. Krycek froze again, not quite sure of what he would do if
the man touched his cock, but the man pulled away and went back inside the room.
"You'll do," he said.
Krycek followed him in, hating the uncertainty. "The smoker says you're even. No
more favours."
The man looked at him as he did up the bow-tie. "So, who are you that the smoker
calls you for his paybacks?"
Krycek sat down on the bed. "No one."
"Stand up. You'll ruin the press of your pants."
Krycek obeyed, and the man turned away to continue dressing. Once he finished, he
opened the small fridge and took out a bottle of champagne and then grabbed two
glasses. "Hold these," he said.
Krycek took them, and drained his once the man took his own back. The champagne
tickled his nose as he drank, but the alcohol hit his empty stomach and the
slight buzz from it made the man's hand on his shoulder bearable. "You are a cute
one. Where did he find you?" the man asked.
Krycek looked at him blankly. "He recruited me out of the FBI," he said.
The man removed his hand.
The night passed slowly. Krycek let the man lead him through the cocktail party
by his elbow, and Krycek had to hide his wince every time the grip became too
painful. He found out the man's name was Wilbur, but he stayed silent through
most of it.
"Bring me a drink," Wilbur ordered.
Krycek left his side and went to the bar. The bartender tried to hit on him, but
Krycek used his blank face again and the man gave up. He was tired from the
surveillance work the smoker had him on the night before and the flight to New
York had taken more out of him than it used to.
Wilbur took the drink and put his hand back on his elbow. Krycek left it there,
and ignored the looks from Wilbur's business associates.
A man, younger than Wilbur but still gray-haired, approached them. Wilbur leaned
in to an obviously private conversation and Krycek ignored them as he studied the
reception hall. There were two obvious exits and a fire door rigged with an
alarm. It was Wilbur's thirtieth anniversary for his bank, and the crowd was
mostly harmless bankers. There were a few people that lurked to the edge of the
room and looked like private security, and Krycek looked away before they noticed
him noticing them.
The party wound down. Most of the food on the tables had been picked over
thoroughly, and the remainder had lost its appeal. Guests started to trickle out,
and Krycek watched them leave.
"So, tell me, Wilbur, do you share?" Krycek heard. His attention snapped back to
the conversation in front of him.
Wilbur slid his hand possessively to Krycek's back, and Krycek stood still for
it. There were hundreds of bones he could have broken in the man's hand, wrist
and forearm, but instead he let it move under his jacket tails. "Not this one.
This one is all mine."
Krycek looked at the man in front of him, and let his eyes narrow for a second.
The man flushed, and backed away from them. When Wilbur turned to him, Krycek met
his gaze innocently. "Are we done?" Krycek asked.
Wilbur looked around, probably noticing the dying party around him for the first
time. He glanced to his watch and then smiled. "I suppose we are."
Krycek returned with him to the suit. Wilbur unlocked the door, put his key card
on the desk, and then turned to where Krycek stood by the door. He started to
undo his belt, and then motioned Krycek forward, obviously no longer caring about
the press of Krycek's suit.
Krycek got up and rinsed his mouth out with champagne. The man had retired to his
bed and was dead asleep by the time Krycek had left the bathroom. The sky would
be light in another couple hours, so Krycek grabbed his jacket and left.
Mulder had been surprised to see the smoker in New York. He followed the man for
almost three hours, knowing that where the smoker was, Krycek usually followed,
but the man had supper alone and then returned to his hotel room. Mulder bribed
the bellboy, and found out that someone matching Krycek's description had left
with the smoker, but the man had definitely returned alone.
He returned to his hotel room. The woman's body in Central Park had looked like
an X-File before Scully had run the tox screen and found the needle mark between
her toes. It was definitely a murder, but the mysterious causes evaporated.
Scully had caught the red-eye back to D.C., but Mulder wanted to hang around a
couple days.
He woke up the next morning to the sun already warm. He grabbed a coffee at a
nearby convenient store and then caught a cab to the docks. It was a long drive,
but he justified it to himself as being on expense account. He'd settle it with
Skinner later.
He had the cabby drop him off just past 14th Street. The sun was now hot, and he
dumped the remains of his coffee in a garbage can. It wasn't exactly a bad
neighbourhood, but he was glad it was during the day. His suit and tie would hold
him up as an easy target to the nighttime residents.
Krycek sat alone on the edge of the pier. A broken, decaying warehouse cast its
shadow over most of the wharf, but Krycek sat in the sun and ignored the sights
and sounds around him. Mulder almost cleared his throat as he approached so he
wouldn't startle Krycek, but the man turned around just as Mulder's shadow
touched his back.
"What are you doing here, Mulder?" Krycek asked in his gravelly voice.
Mulder didn't answer him, and Krycek pulled himself to his feet. His eyes were
dark, and with his jacket over one of the posts, he almost looked like a waiter
on a bender in the remains of his crumpled tuxedo. "What happened?" Mulder asked
instead.
Krycek looked down at himself as Mulder took a step closer. Mulder could smell
the man, who for once didn't smell of leather and gun-oil. Even in the rumpled
clothes, Krycek smelled clean, and he had obviously shaved early in the evening
the day before. Mulder felt the heat radiate from Krycek's shoulders, and he
almost leaned forward to touch Krycek, but he pulled back and waited to be asked.
Krycek kept his dark eyes cold for a heartbeat, but then closed his eyes and
slumped his shoulders. Mulder put his hand on the man's shoulder and ran his palm
against the hot cloth. Krycek tensed under him, and Mulder worked his fingers
between the knots. "What happened?" he asked, again.
"What always happens," Krycek said, voice dropped low. "And I did nothing to stop
it, Mulder. I never do anything to stop it."
Mulder moved in to kiss the back of Krycek's neck, and Krycek leaned back into
him, his entire body shaking. There was no one around, unless someone was looking
at them through binoculars from New Jersey, and his hands started to fumble as he
undid the small pearl buttons on Krycek's shirt. Krycek leaned into him, not
helping but definitely not hindering him in any way. Mulder pressed himself
against Krycek him, but after Krycek remained unresponsive for more than a
heartbeat, Mulder backed away.
"What are you—" Krycek started.
Mulder pressed a finger against his lips. "You don't want this," he said. He took
Krycek's hand and started to lead him off the docks.
Krycek seemed reluctant to step into the shadow of the building. He planted his
heels, and Mulder was surprised again by how strong he actually was. "I do, I do
want this," he protested.
"But not here, and not like this. Come on, Krycek. For me," Mulder said. Krycek
allowed himself to be dragged into the shadow, and he hugged his jacket as they
appeared on the other side of the pier. A cab waited at the taxi-stand, and
Mulder opened the door. "Get in."
Krycek ducked his head and slid in. "Why are you doing this, Mulder?" he asked,
but kept his voice flat.
"You look like you need breakfast."
"You're going to solve all my problems by feeding me?" Krycek demanded.
"It's a start."
"Mulder." Krycek began, but then closed his mouth. "You really are a crazy fuck,
did you know that?" he asked, sitting back.
"I know," Mulder said.
Mulder took him to a restaurant near his hotel room. Krycek ordered coffee and
Mulder ordered them both the ham and egg special. "Are you going to spoon-feed it
to me, too?" Krycek asked.
"If I have to."
"Why do this?" Krycek asked. His nose wrinkled slightly, making him look almost
innocent for a heartbeat. "Why change the rules?"
"Rules? I wasn't aware that we had any rules."
"Oh, don't give me that," Krycek snapped, but then silenced as the waitress
brought them coffee. "You and me, we got this down in the docks, in your crappy
apartment, in the backseat of your car thing. The thing does not include going
for coffee or mother-henning the other."
"So I'm allowed to fuck you but God help me if I care about you."
"Basically," Krycek said. He closed his eyes and inhaled the steam from the
coffee. Mulder watched, not wanting to interrupt Krycek's simple pleasures. From
the gaunt look to his cheeks, it didn't look like he had many of them. "Do you
have a problem with that?" Krycek eventually asked. He opened his eyes and put
down his cup.
"And what if I did?"
"I'd walk out of here."
"No, you wouldn't."
"And why wouldn't I?"
"Because if you tried you'd find yourself handcuffed to the central pole holding
up the table."
"You wouldn't," Krycek said as he narrowed his eyes again.
"And why wouldn't I?"
"Because the pole is far too thick to get the other cuff around it."
They both moved their feet to check and bumped into each other. Krycek jumped a
little as Mulder used it as an excuse to move his foot up the back of Krycek's
calf, but he settled down to the caress. The waitress came again, but they were
both in shocked silence so they didn't have to consciously stop talking. The girl
looked at them both oddly as she put the plates down, but Krycek didn't look like
he noticed and Mulder pretended he didn't.
Despite his protestations, Krycek devoured his meal without sparing the time to
talk. Mulder played with his food, more interested in watching. Krycek noticed
just as he pushed the last of the hash-browns onto his fork with his thumb.
"What?" he asked.
"You have ketchup on the tip of your nose."
Krycek actually blushed and wiped it off. He leaned back against the booth and
sipped at his coffee. "So, now do we fuck?" he asked.
"No. We get you out of that tuxedo."
Krycek didn't have to complain about the way the new denim must have felt, but
his face went tight again and when he thought Mulder wasn't looking, he shifted
his weight oddly. He had left his tuxedo at the clothing shop, which seemed odd
because it looked like it had been tailor fitted. Mulder didn't ask.
Instead they went for a walk in the park. Krycek muttered darkly for the first
half an hour, but it was hard to mutter darkly when the sky was blue and the
trees still hadn't lost their green from the lack of water. Eventually the
muttering stopped, and Mulder almost caught him smiling a couple times. "It's
been a long time since I've done this," he finally confessed.
"I know. If your skin was any whiter, I'd stake you."
Krycek didn't miss a beat. He grabbed Mulder, worked around the man's arms before
Mulder could instinctively push him away and bit him hard on the neck. Mulder
froze out of shock, and then Krycek backed away and made incredibly exaggerated
gagging sounds.
"Very funny," Mulder said, but it made him smile. They watched a mounted patrol
walk past and then sat down in the shade.
"Please tell me that now we fuck," Krycek said, and it seemed odd that he was so
willing to allow Mulder to control the day as much as he had, but Mulder realized
that this was a different side to Krycek that he probably didn't show. Mulder
stood up and Krycek followed behind him.
Another cab ride, and this time Krycek was perfectly content to allow Mulder to
pay for it. Mulder began to suspect that Krycek's sleep deprivation hadn't
started with the night before, but when Mulder unlocked his door, Krycek looked
wide-awake. Mulder pushed the door open, and Krycek hesitated for a moment before
entering the room first. It was a basic hotel, bed, desk, telephone, but the bed
hadn't been made up yet. Krycek moved to it as Mulder put a do not disturb sign
on the door and deadbolted it.
Krycek parted his lips as Mulder approached him, but Mulder dropped to his knees
rather than kiss him. Krycek almost bolted back, but Mulder put his hands over
Krycek's knees and the touch seemed to soothe him. They remained like that for a
heartbeat, and then Krycek leaned back and his stomach muscles began to unclench
through the T-shirt he wore.
Mulder put his hand over Krycek's belly to feel it. Krycek made a sound, it
wasn't a groan or moan but it was more than just a sigh, and he lifted his hips
helpfully off the bed as Mulder lowered his jeans down.
Krycek's cock rested against his thigh, but it was waking up. Mulder picked it up
carefully, and he looked up at Krycek and made eye contact as he slowly parted
his lips and took Krycek down his throat. Krycek was making that sound again, and
Mulder recognized the emotion making it. Vulnerability. He had never imagined
Krycek to open himself that much. They had fucked a dozen times, but Krycek was
right, it had been rough and quick up against something and Krycek was usually
doing up his jeans and disappearing as Mulder still struggled to breathe.
He caught himself deliberately slowing down. He didn't want to torture Krycek,
but found the pleasure/pain on Krycek' face beautiful. A part of him wanted to
keep it slow just to see if Krycek would ever ask for anything, but that would be
sadistic. He pulled away, and Krycek opened his eyes as he felt the mouth leaving
him. He started to say something, but thrust his hips instead, silently begging.
Mulder started to move his hand over Krycek, and waited for him to relax against
the bedside again before he reached for his overnight bag. The KY jelly, not very
romantic but easy enough to explain to nosy airport security guards, was in the
inside pouch and getting it out without disturbing Krycek was a challenge.
Krycek shifted again as Mulder pulled him closer to the edge of the bed, but
Krycek didn't fight him. He pressed a single, lubed finger inside, and Krycek
shuddered. Krycek began to move his lips, but it looked more like a prayer than
an actual attempt to communicate. Krycek's entire body had tensed, and Mulder
loved the way the muscles worked against themselves as Krycek tried to both drive
himself deeper into Mulder and the finger deeper inside him.
He slid a second finger inside, and Krycek started to shake. Krycek's hands moved
down his chest, but stopped at his nipples. He twisted one of them, enough that
it must have caused actual pain, but it apparently made him smile. Krycek lifted
his hips off the bed one more time, and cried out Mulder's name, once. Mulder
swallowed the semen as Krycek collapsed against the bed.
He was asleep before Mulder stood up. Mulder stripped him, and even tugging on
the new jeans didn't wake him up. The bed was unmade, and it was easy to shift
Krycek's body underneath the blanket.
Mulder spent an hour and a half working on his paperwork and expense account
while Krycek slept, but every time Krycek shifted or turned, Mulder put down what
he was doing and watched.
Finally, Krycek sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked, and his
voice was thick.
"Almost four," Mulder said.
Krycek nodded and leaned back on his elbows. "I'm not wearing anything," he said.
"I thought you would be more comfortable."
Krycek smiled, but it was secretive. He looked up, but his eyes were shaded in
the half-light of the room. "Was I?" he asked.
"It looked like it," Mulder said as he moved to the bed. Krycek stopped him with
his foot on Mulder's thigh. "Yes?"
"I think you're wearing too much clothes to join me," he said.
"Is there anything I can do to fix that?"
Krycek lay back, propping his head on the pillow. His foot moved up Mulder's
thigh, and then smiled. "One or two," he said.
Mulder stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It wasn't graceful,
but without his suit, Mulder had no disillusions about his body's beauty. Krycek
lifted the blankets, but Mulder ignored the offered place beside him and moved
over him. Krycek groaned as the weight settled over him.
Krycek stared at him for a heartbeat. Mulder frowned, but then realized they had
never kissed before. Not on the mouth. Krycek moved before he did, and their
tongues met hesitantly. Krycek moved his thigh between Mulder's leg, and Mulder's
cock jumped.
The room was so silent that Mulder could hear the ticking of his watch, but then
Krycek parted his legs and Mulder settled more comfortably over him. Krycek
reached down, taking both of them, and Krycek's warm hand felt so good against
Mulder's cock. Krycek had closed his eyes like he only wanted to enjoy the
sensation, and his face was calm. The slight smile was for himself, only. It was
beautiful to see Krycek finally look like the young man he was. It was too easy
to see the shit Krycek had been through rather than Krycek himself.
"Mulder, please," Krycek finally managed. Mulder looked down and wondered how
long he had been frozen. He took the tube of KY off the bedside table, but Krycek
was still slick from Mulder's fingers. He worked the KY over his cock, and forced
himself to recite baseball statistics from last week's game to keep himself from
coming.
Krycek nibbled on his lips, down his chin, and over his throat. Technically it
wasn't a kiss, but the intimacy almost scared him. He moved so that he knelt
between Krycek's spread thighs, and Krycek let his cock slide through his fingers
with only a mild protesting sound. Krycek's hand lay useless against his thigh
for a heartbeat, and then he began to play with the slight curls on his lower
belly.
Mulder took a moment to run his fingers over the various scars and marks on
Krycek's chest. One day he wasn't going to let Krycek leave until each one had
been explained, but right now he had far more important things to do. He lifted
up Krycek's legs, moving him into a better position, and Krycek didn't fight him.
His eyes were closed as Mulder manipulated him, but his hand didn't stop moving
on his cock. Mulder loved the way Krycek allowed everything to happen, yet still
was an active and willing participant. He had no illusions of the extra
curricular things cancerman made Krycek do, but he doubted the casual pick-ups
and the marks ever saw the expression Krycek had on in that exact moment.
Krycek didn't tense as he Mulder shifted him slightly further to enter him, but
he opened his eyes and the sudden difference in his body as Krycek suddenly moved
under him went directly to his cock. Mulder hesitated, making sure Krycek wasn't
trying to get away, but when he understood that it was just to struggle for the
sake of struggling, the sex changed. Krycek caught him with his legs, and the
pressure around his waist was almost enough to hurt. He retaliated by angling his
hips to catch the prostate, and Krycek laughed. Krycek reared up, displaying
amazing abdominal strength, and Mulder backed away.
Krycek's eyes flashed, and Mulder pushed him back. Krycek twisted around so that
he landed on his side, and a moment later he was on his hands and knees. Mulder
loved the way Krycek's lithe body moved, and he was only a moment later. Krycek
offered himself again, and Mulder was back inside, but this time it was easier
for Krycek to meet his thrusts.
He tried to fight it, but eventually not even the baseball stats had any power
over him. His fingers over Krycek's narrow hips dug in despite himself, and
Krycek jerked under him. Mulder couldn't help it. He came, letting the warmth and
the Krycek's heat pulled him. Krycek started to shudder half way though, and
Mulder collapsed over him. Krycek half turned, adjusting himself so that he could
throw a leg over Mulder's thighs and tucked his head into Mulder's shoulder.
Mulder stroked the short hair, but Krycek was too far gone to feel it. He sighed,
looking over at his paperwork, but reached over Krycek's body and turned off the
light.
Krycek was asleep for another three hours. Mulder had almost fallen asleep when
he felt Krycek jolt awake. "What time is it?" he demanded.
"A little past eight."
Krycek paled. He grabbed the alarm clock to see for himself, and then stood up.
"Shit."
"What?"
"I've got to be on a plane in an hour."
"Catch the next one."
"I can't. Mulder, shit," Krycek stalked around the room, trying to find his
T-shirt.
"Krycek—" Mulder started.
Krycek turned on him. "What?" he snarled.
"I thought you might spend the night," Mulder said, softly.
"I can't," Krycek said. He found his T-shirt and pulled it on.
"Why not?"
"Because he's going to be on the plane and he expects me beside him," Krycek
said, bitterly.
"So the master calls and you scramble after him," Mulder said.
Krycek stopped yanking his T-shirt down. He narrowed his eyes and even though
Mulder knew he didn't carry a gun, he still stepped back. "Did you think any of
this would change that basic fact?"
"I thought—" Mulder began again.
"You thought what, Mulder?" Krycek demanded.
"I thought I showed you that you didn't have to."
Krycek stayed angry for another heartbeat, and then hesitated. "Did you think
ham, eggs and great sex would change what I was?" he asked, but his voice had
changed. Mulder heard the pain in it, and he took a step forward. Krycek stumbled
back away from him.
"Krycek, don't. Stay."
Krycek's face softened again, but it only let pain show through. "Mulder, please.
Don't do this to me."
"Don't what?" Mulder asked. He kept his voice low and soothing, but it only
seemed to make Krycek look like he wanted to bolt.
Krycek took a deep breath. "Stop me from walking out of that door."
"Why not?"
"Because if I don't, I'm a dead man. You can't protect me. This is what I am."
"But you don't have to be!"
"Let me go, Mulder," Krycek said. There was a plea in his voice, and the weakness
it showed was obvious. Mulder had controlled the day, from the moment in the
barge to the sex, and Krycek was having problems shaking off the concern. Mulder
suddenly realized that if he forced it, if he made Krycek stay, Krycek would,
regardless of the consequences. Mulder sat down on the bed, silently. Krycek put
on his shoes, obviously waiting for Mulder to say something, but Mulder kept
quiet. Krycek backed away, groping for the door without turning around, and
opened it. He looked at Mulder one more time, begging again, but this time almost
like he wanted Mulder to call him back. Mulder looked away, and the door closed.
He felt numb inside, like giving Krycek what he wanted somehow had failed him. He
glanced back to the bed, smelling the sex off the sheets, and started to pack his
bags. He'd take the train back to Washington instead of flying; he didn't want
the slightest chance of seeing the smoking bastard with Krycek at the airport.
Krycek silently handed the cabby money for the toll bridge. He could smell Mulder
on him and in him, and every time he moved the smell followed. Krycek sighed. He
had left his jacket with his things in the smoker's hotel, and he could only hope
that the man had another punishment in mind besides pettily throwing out his
belongings.
The cab pulled in front of the correct departure lounge, and Krycek let himself
out. The smoker waited for him inside, and Krycek accepted the backhand without
question. His bag waited at the smoker's feet, and Krycek took it gratefully.
Nothing else was said.
Cruel Kindness
by Barb G
Krycek leaned back in seat and allowed the smoker to pay for the cab-fare. The
old man got out, and Krycek slid easily to the other side of the cab and joined
him. Before the cab could pull away, the smoker adjusted Krycek's bow-tie and
fussed with his lapels. The driver looked disgusted at them through the window
and almost cut a bus off to pull back into traffic.
