Hank's Travel Inn, Room 21 I'm more asleep than awake, thinking how this case had seemed so promising.
Not one, but four different crop circles—all on land owned by prominent
citizens.
Scully and I arrived in Batesville this morning. In less than 12 hours, she
not only proved it a bust, she even gloated a little. Ok, maybe I just think she
gloated. No, she definitely gloated with that "I won't say I told you so"
smirk—the smirk she says she got from me.
I turn on my side punching my pillow a couple of times trying to get
comfortable when I catch something out of the corner of my eye. I peer into the
darkness of my motel room and see flickering letters. They are not clear. I'm
not sure they're really there, more like I'm seeing them in my mind's eye: B U R
Y G R L... Bury girl?
This is like that John Lee Roche thing, a vision or dream that leads me...
somewhere.
I grab at the phone on the nightstand. It's in front of the radio alarm
clock, which is showing 4:19 A.M. I set down the phone. I can't call her, not
now, not after that smirk.
I've been driving around for half an hour. Who'd've thought there would be
this many streets in Batesville? I'm almost at the outskirts of town and about
ready to fall asleep. I pull over to the side of the road to stretch and get
some air. There aren't any street lights out here but the moon offers some
illumination.
I'm in front of a closed bar. All it needs is a full lot of late model
pickup trucks and Tammy Wynette on the jukebox to complete the picture. I hum
"Stand by Your Man" when I see a flicker in the window of the bar.
Squinting into the window, I make out a dimly lit and flickering neon sign
on the back wall. It must be old—some of the letters aren't lit, and some are
brighter than others. "Bub-a & R-by's Bar a-d Gril-" I head back to the car
when it hits me.
Bubba & Ruby's Bar and Grill. B U R Y G R L is the bright lights in
Bub-a & R-by's Bar a-d Gril -. I return
to the building, looking for a way in.
The back door has a simple lock. Quick use of a credit card and I'm in. It's
much darker in here than I thought; the only light is the flickering Bub-a &
R-by's Bar a-d Gril- sign. I'm waiting for my eyes to get accustomed to the
darkness when I hear the sound of the slide of an automatic pistol.
I reach for my gun.
A sudden 'click' and a lamp is turned on. I shield my eyes at first then
blink into the light. Scully is gagged and tied to a chair. I see a hand holding
a gun not far from her head. She doesn't look scared—angry—but not scared.
"Well, Mulder, I wasn't expecting two for the price of one, but I'm always
one to take advantage. Drop the gun and kick it over here."
Alex Krycek.
"You fucking rat bastard."
Mulder's startled when he sees me tied up. Understandable. I would be, too,
if I found him trussed and held at gunpoint by Krycek.
He places his gun on the ground and kicks it toward Krycek. "How about the
ankle holster?" Mulder lifts his pant legs, no holster. "Still can't hang on to
your weapon, eh Mulder?"
Mulder starts towards us, his face shifting to rage.
"I can pull the trigger faster than you can cross the floor," Krycek says
calmly.
"I'm going to fucking kill you, if you so much as touch her, hurt her..."
Mulder's so enraged he's spitting the words out.
"Mulder, we started a game in Hong Kong, you and I. We never got to finish
it."
"What are you talking about?"
"Since your gun wasn't in your pocket, you must have been happy to see me."
Mulder's eyes narrow. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"Oh, come on, Mulder. When you had me up against the phones, the way you
pushed yourself into me, the way you rubbed against me. I felt your hard on."
"That's bullshit, you immoral asswipe." Mulder turns a shade of red I've
never seen on him before.
"Face it, you can't keep your hands off me. Never could. You can tell
yourself you were just comforting me about Augustus Cole. You can keep believing
that you have to beat the shit out me every time you see me because of what I've
done. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change the truth."
I don't want to believe what I'm hearing, but I've seen them together. I
look to Mulder for his denial of these charges.
Mulder's eyes go wide, his breathing heavy. "You no-account sorry son of a
bitch, when I get my hands on you, I'm going to rip your fucking throat out and
shove it up your ass."
"Tsk, tsk... If I swore like that my mother would have washed my mouth out
with soap. Maybe we should stick something in your mouth to keep you quiet?"
Krycek puts a finger to his lips, as if in deep thought. "Come over here. You're
going to get on your knees and you're going to suck my dick."
"You put anything in my mouth and I'll bite it."
"That willing to risk your partner, are you? The way I see it, you can bite
me, charge at me, try to hurt me, but I'll still get a shot in. I might shoot
you and then I'll have to kill the only witness. I could shoot Scully and you'll
have to live with that sin on your already burdened conscience."
Mulder looks down. I can see the muscles in his jaw line working.
I begin to struggle against my bonds, shaking my head furiously, trying to
get Mulder's attention. I can't let him even entertain this idea. I won't let
him do this for me.
Finally, he looks up, walks over to Krycek and gets down on his knees. I
drop my head in defeat.
"Put your hands behind your back." After a pause, he says, "I mean
now." I don't want to watch, but can't stop myself from looking as
Mulder complies. He's staring straight ahead, all emotion leeched from his face.
The only sign of disquiet is a vein throbbing on his forehead.
I'm witnessing something out of a nightmare, or a dream. I can't seem to
look away as Krycek opens the buttons on his fly and pulls out his semi-erect
cock. A short pull and he rubs the head against Mulder's mouth.
Mulder opens his mouth and takes in Krycek's dick. A throaty growl issues,
but I'm not sure from who.
Krycek's looking down at Mulder, smiling. He holds Mulder's head still and
thrusts two, maybe three times before he pushes Mulder away and steps back.
"Take off your pants," Krycek orders.
Mulder doesn't move. "I said take off your pants. I can just as soon jack
off over your dead partner's body." The casualness of his remark sends a cold
spike of fear through me.
I look to Mulder trying to share... reassurance? ...strength? But his face
is downcast. He's shaking his head slowly and I can't make eye contact with him.
As Mulder starts to pull off his pants Krycek tells him, "Underwear, too."
Mulder stands, looking up with murder in his eyes and humiliation radiating
off him as he tries to hide his erection.
I'm standing in front of Dana Katherine Scully with a hard on caused by that
asswipe Krycek. I will kill him. I don't know when or how, but I will kill him
for this.
Krycek motions me to the pool table. "Sit on the edge."
I do as he says. "Lay back. Put your hands behind your head. Good. Scoot
your ass so it just hangs over the edge. That's right. Knees to your chest.
Spread your legs. Oh, and no kicking."
Krycek is between my legs. I feel the cold metal of the gun as he rests it
flat on my stomach. I can feel the warmth of his fingers surrounding the grip
and trigger. I want that warmth somewhere... What the fuck am I thinking?
I can feel something prodding my anus and, dammit all, I can feel the blood
pounding in my traitorous dick.
I can't see her, but Scully's presence both shames and excites me. Even
worse, looking into Krycek's gaze makes me harder yet.
A hand is pressed into my face, "Spit in my hand. It'll make it a little
easier on you."
Krycek isn't exactly gentle, but he doesn't ramrod into my ass. Quiet
grunts, deep breaths and the smack of flesh against flesh are the only sounds
for several minutes. He slaps me once when I try to move my hand to my dick.
He emits a low growl that gets louder, on the verge of a yell, then silence.
Krycek pulls out of me and moves out of my line of sight.
Moments pass when I hear the scrape of furniture being moved. "Still hard,
Mulder? Maybe I'll let you beat off later, but for now get up and move to the
chair."
I sit up and see that he's placed a chair facing Scully. I move gingerly
towards it and sit down. My damned erection points upward, no relief in sight.
Scully, gracefully, looks only into my face.
Krycek gets a rope around me quickly and, from behind, is able to tie me
down securely.
"Well, kids, it's been fun. We have to do this again sometime."
"Did you get what you came for?" I snarl.
"No, I didn't." He chucks Scully under her chin and then turns to me.
He tweaks the tip of my cock. An electric shock runs through me. As he
reaches the door, I hear him say, "But I got what I wanted."
Chapter II—The Middle
Mulder keeps muttering under his breath. I'm still gagged so I can't ask him
to either speak up or shut up.
We've been struggling against our bonds for at least an hour. Dawn has
broken and the room is fully visible in the morning light.
In the distance I hear a motor. Mulder looks up. He hears it, too. A look of
relief followed by panic crosses his face. At least he's not hard anymore.
The engine sound comes closer. I hear tires on gravel then the motor stops.
It's in front of us. Footsteps in the gravel. A lock turning. The door opening.
"What in Sam Hill is goin' on here?" He casts a big shadow; he isn't a small
man.
Mulder gulps, "Uh, hi. We're federal agents. Can you help us? You'll find my
ID in my pants. They're over by the back door."
"An just what are your pants doin' there when you're sittin' here in one of
my best chairs?"
"It's a long story that I'll be more than happy to, umm, I'll explain later.
I'm an FBI agent. That's my partner. A known felon did this to us."
As Mulder's rambling, I look up at Bubba—at least I think this is Bubba, it
could be Ruby. Bubba's looking skeptical. "Well, this feller knows his knots."
He pulls out a pocketknife and cuts us loose.
I gingerly pull the gag off, tape residue sticking to my face. I ask for
water. "Course ma'am, comin' right up."
I turn away as I see Mulder start to pull on his clothes. "Mulder, I'll call
Skinner to let him know about-"
"NO! I mean, no. We're not late. We weren't going to leave until today. No
need to get Skinner involved."
Mulder won't meet my gaze. Bubba comes back with water. "Here ya'r. Y'all
want breakfast? Ruby c'n be here mite quick and she's a wonder with grits."
Mulder replies, "No, thank you. My partner and I had better get on our way."
"Hope y'all find him. I knowed what I do to a feller that left me half
nekkid and tied up."
Mulder mutters under his breath, "Buddy, you don't know the half of it."
Highway 30 "Mulder, we're going to have to talk about this."
"I know. Just. Not. Now."
"What about our report? Are you going to mention-"
"Mention what? The case was a bust. There's no need to report anything other
than the findings on the case."
"A crime was committed. Rape is a crime. We need to report Krycek."
"Then what, Scully? What is adding rape to Alex Krycek's list of sins going
to do? Add another ten years if we catch him? As the victim, do I get any
rights? Or will everyone get to know that I was fucked by Krycek?"
For a moment, the car is silent.
"Mulder, whatever you need to you do, however you want to handle this, I'll
back you."
Four months later It's early when I walk in. The bar's not very crowded. I ask for a Bud Lite
and turn around to view the scenery.
It's been months since Krycek, months since I've wanted sex. The last,
desperate orgasm I had was in the bathroom of room 21 at Hank's Travel Inn.
Batesville. I left my soul in Batesville. Not exactly a catchy tune.
I sit at a two person table overlooking the dance floor. Young men dance
with their mirror images, figurative and literal.
I inventory the room. That one's hot, but he knows it. Next. Too much gel.
Next.
Finally I see him. He's younger than me, but not by much. In the light his
hair appears sable. Smooth and dark. I can't see the color of his eyes, but his
eyelashes are incredibly thick.
I walk over. We start talking and I ask him if he'd like to talk somewhere
quieter.
Always Open Coffee Shoppe
His name is Alan. He's a marketing manager for a small software company in
Virginia. He's nice, employed and sincere. Running the occasional yellow light
is the most illegal thing this guy's ever done. Oh, wrong. He's really proud of
his civil disobedience arrest during some march on Washington.
I was right about his hair. It's that dark brown that's almost black. His
eyes are blue gray with long thick lashes. Best of all, he doesn't look like
Krycek... at least that's what I keep telling myself.
We chat, get friendly and he smiles when I suggest we go to my place. Maybe
it's the end of the drought.
Mulder's Apartment We've been making out on the couch. Nothing's happening south of the border.
I mean, he's attractive and can kiss with the best of them. I like what he's
doing to me, but I'm not getting hard.
Alan's hand fondles my crotch. He pulls away. I see a perplexed look in his
eyes. He knows something's missing. Yeah, like an erection.
He puts a finger to his lips // as if in deep thought // I feel a
jolt in my dick.
I stand suddenly and take a few steps away from him. I turn and face him.
"Come over here. You're going to get on your knees and you're going to suck my
dick."
He smiles at me and eagerly starts to move. No, no that's not how it's
supposed to happen. "Fight me," I plead.
"Fight you? Why? I like you. Oh, is this some sort of role-play. Okay, I'm
up for kink. Who do you want me to be?"
I can't speak. A croak escapes my throat, "Kry."
"You want me to cry? That's too over-the-top for me. Look, you're nice and
all, but maybe I'd better get out of here."
"NO!" I roar at him. "You're going to take your pants off, underwear too."
"Hey, come on, this is a little more that I can deal with." Alan backs away
from me, picking up his jacket on the way out. "Well, maybe next time, we'll
catch a movie. See you around."
As the door closes, I drop to my knees. // I can just as soon jack off
over ... //
I fumble with my zipper. My dick, unresponsive moments ago, is now rock
hard. I spit in my hand. // It'll make it a little easier on you. //
I rub the spit along the shaft, shuddering. My thumb rotates along the tip,
drawing pre-cum off and onto the head. All I can hear are my own muffled grunts
and the slick sound of my hand pumping up and down // the smack of flesh
against flesh. //
I cry out in release and anguish.
"Why can't I get it up for a nice guy?" I ask myself as I wipe my own semen off
my chest.
There was nothing wrong with Alan. He was good-looking, smart, funny and
willing. All the things that used to matter.
Why can't I get hard unless I'm thinking about that immoral scum-sucking
(who's sucking who?) bastard Alex Krycek?
This is fucked. I head off to bed. Maybe it'll be better in the morning.
The next day
Delicate eyebrows arch, then, "Another cow exsanguination, Mulder?"
"Dammit, Scully! For once, can't you just trust my judgment?" God, she ticks
me off sometimes. "It's not like there isn't a precedent. With all that I've-"
"Why are you yelling at me? What's going on with you? You've been acting out
all day. If there's some agenda here that I'm not a part of, either share it
with me so I can help or keep me out of it. But don't make me your whipping
boy."
Scully shakes her head as if trying to clear it. "I need some air." She
leaves.
Oh hell. I go back to my desk and flop down into my chair. I'm thumping my
forehead, "Stupid, stupid, stupid," when that idiotic little "you've got mail,"
chime goes off.
Okay. Fine.
"From: bhind@eightball.net I've been watching you. You're not doing very well. You bet your sweet ass I'll be there.
Friday Night, 9:45 P.M. It's pretty crowded for this early on a Friday. Must be a happening place.
I've done a search and haven't spotted him, so I sit where I can keep watch
of the door.
"Bartender, Bud Lite."
10:05. Nothing, I do another search.
10:10. "Hey bartender, some peanuts down here?"
10:15. "How 'bout another beer?"
10:20. Time to go to the john. And wouldn't you know it, my seat's gone when
I get back.
As I'm looking for a new place to perch, the bartender motions me over. "You
Mulder?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Your friend told me to look for someone tall, dark and nervous. Follow me."
The bartender winds through the crowd getting appreciative glances from the
patrons. He's taller than me with the typical beefcake build. Broad shoulders,
well defined pecs and a butt that could crush beer cans.
I follow him through a door marked "employees only." There's a hall with a
couple of doors on either side. He stops in front of one.
"I gotta make sure you're not holding before I can let you in." I hold my
hand up to stop him, then reach down and unstrap my ankle holster. He takes it
and tucks it into the back of his jeans.
I nod to indicate I'm ready and let him pat me down. His hand stays on my
crotch a little longer than it should take.
"Well, I like what you're packing. If your friend doesn't, let
me know," he says with a wink.
He unlocks the door. "In there."
It's a private billiard room, large enough for four to play comfortably with
a barstool against each wall. And there's Krycek across the table from me,
lining up a shot.
He sinks the four ball before looking up.
"So, it didn't go well with Alan, did it?"
"What do you know about that?"
A slow smile slides onto his face. "I know a lot. You had Thai delivered on
Tuesday and Thursday. Chinese on Wednesday. You must be off pizza, because you
haven't ordered it in almost a month."
My hands grip the bumper on the pool table. "Are you surveiling me?"
He ignores the question and lines up another shot. The cue ball's heading
toward me. I snatch it off the table.
"Come on Krycek. You called this meeting."
"You're right. I gave you the option though. Should we talk or shoot pool?"
"Talk. What were you doing in Batesville? Why did you capture Scully? What
do you want with her?" I fire off question after question and he just stands
there, leaning on his pool cue.
"Mulder, this isn't 'talk.' Interrogation wasn't one of the choices."
He steps back from the pool table and sits on a barstool. "Your hands are
going to cramp if you don't let go."
I look down. My hands are white knuckled from gripping so hard. I'm losing
my cool here. I can't let him have the upper hand. Not again.
"Look Mulder, I'm not really sure why I wanted to talk to you-"
"The hell you aren't. You always have a plan. You want to see just how you
wrecked me. You want to gloat!"
"I wrecked you? Okay, I had a hand in breaking down your denial, but I had a
lot of material to work with."
"You fucking raped me!"
"And you were hard the moment you saw me. You were hard before I fucked you
and you stayed hard after I was done."
"That doesn't make it consent. It's still rape. It's still a crime."
"How different is it from getting the shit beat out of you? If they're even,
then I owe you at least one more."
That's it! I vault over the table, barreling at him. He's sitting there, not
making a move. I pull him off the barstool, slam him hard against the wall and
pull back my fist.
"Make that two more. Or I can give consent and we won't count this one." I'm
inches away from beating him to death and he never loses his calm.
I grab his collar and haul him up to my face. "What the hell are you doing
to me?"
"I'm not doing anything to you. Believe it or not, I'm trying to help."
"Help me what? Go completely crazy? Haven't you done enough damage?"
I feel the heat from his body against mine. I push him away. He falls back
on the barstool.
I turn my back to him. Blood rushing to my dick. Thoughts rushing through my
brain. He was right in Batesville. I knew he was right. Worst of all, he knew he
was right. I start walking around the table. I can't be near him.
I focus on the floorboards, the pool table, anything but ... him. I begin
speaking so quietly and quickly I'm not sure he can hear the words. "It was a
ruse. That night you killed Cole, I told myself I was helping you. But it was
just a way to get closer. I, I wanted you and I never got there because you... "
"Because I betrayed you?" Softly, tenderly.
It was the gentleness in his voice that broke down a wall inside me. A
torrent of thoughts, images, words.
"When you killed my father, I wanted to hurt you. I was ready to kill you or
fuck you. All I knew is that... You were right. Hitting you was the only way I
could touch you... I could almost taste you in Hong Kong." Sentences tumble into
each other. Almost against my will, I hear myself say, "And yes, I want you in
me."
I'm across the table from him. "Damn you for making me say this." And I look
up at him.
So why did I want Mulder here? True, Batesville holds a special place in my
mind (and cock). It's more than that. There's something about that look of
anguish that crosses his face when he confronts one of his demons. And he has a
lot of demons.
He's looking at me now. Like El Greco's Jesus, pain, suffering and grief all
there. I live for that look and will play him with whatever I've got to get him
there.
His eyes follow me as I walk over to him. Face to face. "And now that you've
said it?"
His eyes glaze. He licks his lower lip and then grabs me and kisses me. I
pull away after a moment. I can fuck him, but mustn't kiss him?
"Now! Please!" He's attacking my fly. I help him. Once I'm free he rips his
fly open and struggles to get out of his jeans.
He's nude from the waist down and facing me. I reach into my jacket pocket
pulling out lube. I hold the tube in front of him. "This or spit?" He doesn't
hear me.
I take his hand and put a dollop of lube in it. I guide that hand to my
dick. I let him feel me, pump me. Enough. Putting my hands on his hips, I push
him back against the pool table. His eyes widen. Surprise? Desire?
He lifts himself on to the pool table, lays back with his knees up to his
chest and his hands behind his head. "I won't kick," he promises.
I grease him up. Pushing in one finger at first. He gasps. At two fingers a
low moan. I shove my cock in and I hear his whispered hiss, "Yesss."
I don't slap him this time. I allow him to jerk himself to my rhythm.
He comes moments before I do. Spurting onto his shirt, mumbling sounds,
syllables with no meaning.
I explode inside his ass.
I feel his cock slip out of me. I lie there staring at the ceiling. Not
knowing how I feel, not wanting to know... But needing to know if there will be
a next time. Is this it? Can I handle a next time?
I clear my throat. "Will this happen-"
"I don't think so, Mulder. This time I got what I came for."
I hear the door close behind him.
28 April 2000
Feedback please. This is my first outing as a slash writer and I'd like to
know I'm on the right track.
Batesville
by Loren Q
Chapter I—The Beginning
Batesville, Arkansas
Scully was right... I'm gonna owe her for this one.
2 hours later
Bubba & Ruby's Bar and Grill
Batesville, Arkansas
On the road to Little Rock, Arkansas
Pumps
Dupont Circle
Washington, D.C.
Dupont Circle
Washington, D.C.
Alexandria, Virginia
Chapter
III—The End
Mulder's Apartment
Alexandria, Virginia
Basement Office
FBI Building
Washington D.C.
To: fmulder@fbi.gov
Subject: Batesville
Maybe it's time for
us to talk. Or shoot some pool?
If you're interested, meet me at the One Way
bar, in Arlington, on Friday at 10pm.
-K"
The One Way Bar
Arlington, Virginia
