Sinking Deeper
I woke up the next morning in a mood way too merry for me to feel
comfortable with. After all, I had the image of a martyr to maintain.
But everything was against me: the sun was shining cheerfully
through the window, making my cramped and dusty apartment look
cozy; instead of the usual horns of passing cars, I could hear birds
twittering in a nearby park; and even my own body was humming
silently with content I hadn't felt in ages.
Aware that I owed my unusually good spirits Alex Krycek and
hating that fact immensely, I was absolutely horrified when I saw
the goofy grin I was sporting in the bathroom mirror. It took me
about 15 minutes to wipe the silly expression off my face and
return to my patented bland stare. However, try as I might, I simply
couldn't get rid of the post-coital glow, characteristic to every
sexually satisfied human being. Finally I decided to let it be,
hoping that Scully would simply assume I'd got a new porn movie or
something and wouldn't ask me too many questions. I really hated
lying to her, not to mention that she could see through me without
any problem if I even tried.
On my way to work I caught myself singing to some song on the radio
and that actually pissed me off. Who was he, after all, to turn my
world upside down like that?! I have NEVER in my life sung along to
ANY stupid song! I COULDN'T sing for crying out loud! I was going
to get him for this. All I had to do was wait until my over-sensitive
conscience would wake up and put everything back in place, so that
my life aim would again be to hunt Krycek down and kill him. With
that carefully laid plan I entered the office and prepared myself
to face all the neglected paper work.
By the end of the day, however, my natural guilt has still been
stubbornly refusing to kick in. I was crushed. I mean, if there
was one thing in my life that I could take for granted, it was
that I would feel guilty of whatever had happened to myself or
people around me. And now it seemed that Krycek managed to take
even this constant away from me by the simple act of applying his
lying mouth to my cock. Jesus, I couldn't believe I'd needed to get
laid that badly.
My irritation eventually overcame the annoying cheerfulness and by
the time I returned home after work, I already was my usual sulky self.
I half expected Krycek to appear in my apartment again that night
but it was not until a week after, that I sensed his dark presence in
my living room.
During the week I'd been trying very hard not to think about him,
since every attempt to analyze his peculiar behaviour and possible
motives resulted in my cock achieving record breaking levels of
stiffness. There was just something incredibly erotic about having
my own sex slave, even if it was a man. I knew that Krycek said he
wanted to "help" me and not to "satisfy my every whim" but still, he
gave me a blowjob, didn't he? And it was my own suggestion, Krycek
himself seemed to be absolutely indifferent to the way I'd chosen
him to relieve my arousal. That line of thought led naturally to
another question: Would Alex Krycek spread his legs for me if I
told him to? At this point I usually gave up my contemplation to
take an extremely long and extremely cold shower.
So when I realised that I was no longer alone in the room, the
strangest rush of emotions washed over me. There was relief, fear,
anticipation, confusion, curiosity and a great deal of excitement,
to name just a few. What I lacked, however, was the fury I usually
felt around him, that blind, burning rage that used to lead me
through all our earlier encounters. Without it, I felt naked and
vulnerable, uncertain of how I should behave. All I could do was
imitate my usual reactions, hoping that he would conduct this
particular meeting. I tried hard not to blush as I grasped at my
gun, cleverly hidden under the couch cushion, and said casually:
"You forgot something the last time you were here, Krycek?"
"No, I don't believe I did." he answered thoughtfully. "Why, you've
found something that doesn't belong to you?"
The mocking tone of his voice immediately made me lose my temper.
"You fucking bastard!" I shouted, turning around rapidly and pointing
my gun at him. "Who gave you the right to come in here like that?! I
told you I'd shoot you the next time I see you, did you think I was
kidding?!"
Krycek just kept looking at me calmly and said: "No, I thought you
were perfectly serious, Fox."
That did it. The sound of my hated first name literally made me see
red. I dropped the gun, knowing that merely shooting him would never
satisfy my bloodthirst, and with a furious growl deep in my throat I
lunged at him, set to kill.
I'm still not sure what eventually stopped me from strangling him.
I suppose it was the sudden realisation that the fight was as much
of an act as what he had done the week earlier, only that it's
purpose was different.
"You're just letting me get some of my frustration out on you, aren't
you." I stated discouraged and let go of his throat.
Krycek took a deep breath and looked at me searchingly.
"I don't know." he said. "Are you frustrated, Fox?"
Another wave of rage rolled through me but I managed to conceal the
resulting impulse to punch him since I knew he somehow wanted me to
do just that.
"Why?" I asked helplessly, ignoring his question.
Krycek narrowed his eyes and contemplated me for a minute before he
answered: "You know Mulder? If you just started to listen to what
people are saying to you, you'd probably have the answers to half
of your questions already."
"Don't try to irritate me, it won't work." I snarled at him. "And I
don't buy you suddenly becoming an altruist whose life aim is to
help his greatest enemy. Oh wait, I forgot, you're not my enemy,
you're my friend, isn't that right tovarish?"
I watched with satisfaction as Krycek's eyes widened with surprise
for a split second. Apparently the bastard didn't think I'd remember
his little comment in Russian and have it translated. Well, tough
luck, I did.
Krycek regained his composure much quicker than I would have liked
him to.
"So you do listen to what people are telling you but you still
choose to be such an unyielding, narrow-minded asshole." he commented
cuttingly.
I gasped. I had been called many names in the course of my career
but it was definitely the first time someone accused me of being
narrow-minded. How the fuck did he do that, give all our encounters
that surreal element that was stealing my arguments and making me
defenceless to his mind games? I knew that there had to be some
sense in this madness, some way for me to defeat him, but the signals
he was giving away were just too damn confusing.
"Get the hell off me." Krycek's impatient demand suddenly made me
painfully conscious of my current position: I was straddling him,
with my knees pressed hard against his hips in an attempt to keep
him immobile, while most of my body's weight was resting on my
hands, placed on either side of Krycek's head. I could feel
warmth radiate from his firm body and seep freely through the inner
sides of my legs to settle in the general area of my groin. The whole
situation somehow became shockingly erotic.
"This is ridiculous!" I thought in panic. "I've been fighting with
him before and it never felt like this! On that truck in Tunguska,
for example, I was practically lying on him when I was trying to
cut his throat with that makeshift knife, and I didn't feel anything
but hatred, even though I had his thighs around my waist and
I was virtually nuzzling his neck..." Damn, this line of thought
definitely wasn't helping my hard-on to subside. Or maybe I didn't
have to make it subside? I eyed Krycek speculatively, wondering
how to switch him into the geisha mode he was in the week before.
Then I noticed his duffel bag lying nearby on the floor, where he
must have dropped it when I landed on him earlier, and I stretched my
arm to pull it closer. I wasn't about to grant his request and get
off him. In fact, I even shifted my position so that I was now
sitting on his stomach—as far as I was concerned, the more
uncomfortable he was, the better—and with my now freed hands, I
started to investigate the bag's contents.
"What, no silk sheets and massage oils today? I'm disappointed in
you, Krycek." I mocked him. "Ah, but there are some candles! What
were you going to do? Let hot wax drip on me? Or were the candles
supposed to provide romantic illumination?"
Krycek didn't answer my questions, he just kept looking at me through
his lowered lashes, but that was OK, because I didn't expect
answers from him anyway. Even though I was perfectly aware how
immature and petty my behaviour was, I simply couldn't help myself.
"And what's that? A feather? What the hell would you need a feather
for Alex?" I dived further into the bag and suddenly my fingers
closed around the objects I was secretly hoping to find there
all along. With a victorious growl deep in my throat I took them
out and exclaimed triumphantly:
"Aha! A tube of lubricant and condoms! I can see you had some
serious plans for tonight!"
I looked down at him, seeking any trace of emotion on his stony
face, but as he remained expressionless, I added with a cruel smile:
"I guess we should put them to good use then. Take off your clothes."
To my amazement Krycek actually started to undress, without complaint
or sarcastic remark. As he was struggling to take off his jacket, I
finally stood up and stepped away to give him enough room.
"It can't be that easy, can it?" I thought incredulously. "Is that
the key, to simply give him orders and he will obey? But that's
not the way it worked the last time! Still, I might as well try it
now since I don't have any better clues."
Meanwhile Krycek lost his jacket and was now awkwardly unbuttoning
his shirt.
I watched him for a while in fascination, not caring one bit if it
made him feel uncomfortable, until I finally decided to take the
party to the bedroom—I didn't want to desecrate my couch by the
unholy act I was going to commit.
Krycek followed my lead meekly, never stopping removing his clothes.
By the time I prepared the bed and started to light the candles,
he had already taken off the shirt and a V-neck underneath, and
unbuckled the prosthesis.
I didn't want to look at him, so instead I concentrated on the
candles. The truth was, all my courage had evaporated the moment
I realised what exactly it was I was about to do. I didn't have
any experience in gay sex, just some general ideas, and the last
thing I wanted was to present myself as a clumsy virgin. After all,
the point of the whole event was to make Krycek scream and writhe
in my arms, so that I would regain some dignity and take back the
piece of my soul he had stolen the week earlier. By the time I lit
the last candle I was so fucking nervous I wanted nothing more than
to call the whole thing off. Only that there was no way out. I was
trapped.
I mustered all the courage I had left and lifted my head to look
at him.
Krycek stood in front of me, glamorously naked, letting the unsteady
candlelight paint golden, flickering shadows on the smooth skin
covering his powerful body.
I was struck speechless. All coherence deserted me at the vision
before me—the man was fucking gorgeous! The voyeuristic part of my
nature couldn't help but admire the graceful contour of his neck,
the finely shaped pectorals, the slim waist and the long, sinewy
legs. Even the horrible mutilation he had undergone didn't take away
the air of perfection surrounding him. The lack of an arm merely
stressed the fact that this was no ordinary stud but a deadly
predator and you should consider yourself very lucky if you were
chosen to be his mate and not his prey. I felt violent stirring in
my groin as my dying erection came back with a vengeance and
suddenly all my doubts and fears lost their significance. All I
could concentrate on was the burning need to touch him.
I took a tentative step forward and put my hand on his warm chest.
Krycek didn't react, silently letting me know that I was free to
do whatever I wanted with him.
Intoxicated with the power I had over him, I started to run my
hands greedily all over his body. My fingers were investigating
every plain and curve of his muscular torso, committing to memory
their perfect shape. Every time I came across a scar marking his
velvety skin, a jolt of fire tightened my spine and tickled my
cock at the remembrance of how dangerous the sensual creature in
my arms really was. God, I wanted him.
I pushed him down on the bed and started to explore in earnest, this
time using my lips and tongue along with my hands. I was planning to
discover each and every spot on his lean body that made him pant a
little more breathlessly and blush a little more deeply when I touched
it in the proper way.
By the time I reached his throbbing cock, we were both half
conscious with lust. However, just as I was about to swallow
his straining erection, a feeble voice of reason managed to
force its way through the haze filling my brain and stopped me at
the last second.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! This man is a traitor
and a murderer, and you're going to suck his dick?!" the voice,
sounding suspiciously like Scully, screamed at me. "Go on with
your original plan if you have to but for Christ's sake, keep your
mouth off him!"
I licked my lips and whimpered miserably. I wanted to taste Krycek's
cock so badly that it caused me almost physical pain not to lean
down and lick away the pearly drops of moisture shining at the
swollen tip. But I knew that the voice was right—I'd never
forgive myself if I gave to the temptation and did what I so longed
to do. Rather than wrapping my tongue around the hard shaft, I
finally settled for kissing Krycek's flat stomach, thoroughly enjoying
the way his skin was warming with desire under my ministrations.
As I was nuzzling the dark curls on his underbelly, inhaling the
heady, musky smell of another man, myriads of self-accusing questions
ran through my head. How on Earth could he excite me that much? Why
did I love the way his scent seemed to invade my nostrils, leaving
behind the teasing trace that was practically driving me insane with
lust? I wasn't gay, was I?
As usual, Krycek made my thoughts scatter at the least (or most,
depending on the point of view) appropriate moment; this time by
spreading his thighs and moaning impatiently.
The remaining grey cells in my brain melted into mush at that sight
of ultimate submission; especially since it was coming from this man.
With the last bit of reason I grabbed the lube, squeezed some of it
on my fingers and then I simply let my instincts take over. Which
was probably for the better since otherwise I'd never get the nerve
to actually go on with my plan. As it was, my hand found its way
to Alex's opening all by itself and in no time my index finger was
buried in the tight heat of his body. I started to move it
delicately, trying to spread the lubricant all over the narrow
channel and to relax the constricting muscles. Soon they loosened
enough for me to work the second and then the third finger in. I
started to move my hand in and out suggestively when I came
across a little, hard nub. As I stroked it tentatively, Krycek's
body jerked violently and I heard him cry out in passion. I lifted
my head to look at him and for the second time that night his beauty
overwhelmed me completely. No man had the right to be so stunningly
gorgeous! Yet, Alex with his soft lips parted, sable eyelashes
resting on his flushed cheeks and neck arched in ecstasy was a sight
well worth admiring.
Suddenly the incredible lashes fluttered up releasing two rays of
green fire that shot straight at me.
"Now... I'm ready now." he groaned hotly.
The urgency in his husky voice startled me out of my reverie and
pushed my body into action. I put on a condom, grabbed the base of
my cock and slowly entered the tempting body beneath me. I felt as
if an iron vise closed around my hips and the tightness of Krycek's
ass only fostered this illusion of unusual heaviness of my groin.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion now. I knew that
couldn't be good because I only felt like this right before orgasm
and I simply wasn't allowed to come yet, not before he did.
Desperately fighting with the first signs of that intense, tingling
sweetness deviously twisting my body into climax, I started to
stroke Alex's cock in an attempt to bring him off before it'd be too
late.
I was losing myself in the heat of our joined bodies, melting in it,
and it was wrong, something was terribly, painfully wrong. I looked up
at him and, surely, his eyes had that detached gleam I remembered from
the week before, as he was greedily soaking up every sensation, my
every moan and every strained breath I took. He was practically
devouring me with his eyes and I couldn't do anything to stop it,
already too far gone to have any control over the frenzied rhythm of my
thrusts, each one pulling me even further towards ultimate surrender.
Then he smiled at me gently, happily, as if what we were doing was
the most wonderful thing in the world and I felt it—the orgasm
crawling up my back like a small, furry animal, its claws scratching
my skin as it scurried along my spine to finally change direction
and sink its sharp teeth at the small of my back. The heat exploded
beneath my eyelids and I started to tremble as wave after wave of
pleasure drowned my senses.
I heard Alex's distant moan of ecstasy and soon his body was shuddering
together with mine, lost in the same thickly sweet sensation I was
experiencing.
Finally my muscles gave in and I fell on top of him in a boneless
heap, too spent to care about getting myself clean or even retreating
from the warm haven of Krycek's tight ass. I guess I would have slept
like that, still buried in his inviting body, if he hadn't started to
squirm after a few blissful moments of complete peace.
At first I tried to ignore him but it was becoming increasingly
difficult as his struggles gained in intensity. Finally I gave up
pretending to be asleep and snarled at him:
"What?!"
Krycek stilled and remained silent for a while. I could almost hear
the wheels in his head turning as he was forming different answers and
dismissing all of them. Eventually he said simply:
"I have to go."
"What, my hour's up?" I commented, trying to sound mad, which was not
an easy task after what could only be described as the best sex I ever
had.
He stilled again and for a crazy moment I had the impression he was
going to return to his Krycek-the-rat-bastard persona and respond
to my remark with an insult of his own but all he said was:
"Something like that."
Reluctantly I pulled away from him and rolled to the side, giving
him the freedom he so craved. Although at the moment I was in no
state to contemplate the reasons for my unwillingness to let him go,
I knew that they were going to haunt me as soon as I woke up the next
day. For now it took all the concentration I had left to get rid of
the condom and wipe away the sperm covering my belly.
Meanwhile, Krycek managed to clean himself, put on his clothes and
put out the candles.
I was watching him enviously, wondering absently where he got all
the energy from, with a strange, sinking feeling in my gut. It was
only after he was gone, however, that I realised what the reason for
the unnerving sensation was: I've just lost another battle, doing
exactly what he'd expected me to do, what he'd been PREPARED for me
to do. What's more, while it lasted I was convinced that it was I who
controlled the situation. I even felt bad about the bruises on his
neck for crying out loud! But the absolute worst part was that even
when I finally discovered what was really going on, all it took was
one smile, one fucking innocent smile, to reassure me and make me
come.
Manipulative bastard—he played me as if I was an idiot. Again.
Possession II
by Czeri
"And when the time is right,
I get you in my sight,
I'll reach into your life
and look around inside."
—SUGAR RAY
