This time I have to make him believe. The old man spoke the
truth, we're all going to hell in a handbasket if people
like Mulder don't go out there and fight the good fight. I,
for one, never intend to play host to another alien invader.
Now I've got him where I've always wanted him, on the floor
at my mercy. Sorry I had to use a gun to do it. My legs
start to cramp from kneeling so long, which doesn't do much
for my disposition.
"Krycek," he says, looking up at me with utter disdain.
"You're a liar, a coward, and a murderer."
Gee, Mulder. Thanks for reminding me.
"Get up," I tell him, trying to keep my voice neutral.
When he's settled against the couch, I take a deep breath.
"I was sent by a man...a man who knows, as I do, that
resistance is in our grasp." I deliver my speech with all
the sincerity I can muster, but Mulder seems unfazed. "If
the rebel dies, so does the resistance."
Damn. He's just staring at me. What do I do now?
On impulse, and maybe because I sense it's my last chance,
I
lean forward and brush my lips against his cheek. When I
pull away, Mulder finally looks shocked. Against all my
better instincts, I drop the gun on his lap. He glances at
it, picks it up, fingers the trigger.
Then he sets it aside.
Without a word, he rises to his knees. It's my turn to be
shocked as he puts his hand on the back of my neck and draws
my lips to his.
"Alex," he whispers, so softly I'm not sure I've
heard.
I'm trembling. I can't believe this is happening. Mulder's
tongue darts into my mouth, and I moan. Incredible...the
big, bad assassin becoming putty in this man's hands.
Hands. Mulder's touch at my left shoulder jolts me back to
reality. He strips me of my leather jacket quickly,
exploring the place where flesh and plastic meet. I blink
once, hardly daring to look into his face. When I do, there
is no pity there, only understanding and acceptance.
Something breaks inside my chest. My defenses crumble as we
undress each other in a sudden frenzy to feel skin on skin.
Gently, Mulder unhooks the prosthesis where my left arm used
to be. The last barrier is down.
He presses me to the floor, his lips never leaving mine on
the way. His right index finger traces a path from my cheek
to my chin. How did my face get wet, I wonder?
I whimper as Mulder's long, slim fingers play across my
nipples. My cock strains upwards on my belly, and his hands
brush that, too, before moving away. He stills my protests
with another kiss. Through half-closed eyes I watch him
reach inside a desk drawer. He holds up a bottle of lube and
a familiar foil packet, smiling.
Smart man. You can never tell what a rat might carry.
At this point, I no longer care what he thinks of me. All I
can feel are his fingers anointing my ass with the lube,
while my right hand twitches along the hardwood floor. It
takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to grab myself.
I want it to be Mulder who brings me the pleasure I crave.
Through the increasing roar of blood in my head I hear the
snap of latex. Then Mulder is pulling my legs up over his
shoulders. God, please, I can't stand this much longer.
For once, my worthless prayers are answered. Mulder sheathes
himself in me so smoothly I know in that instant we were
made for each other. He sets a steady pace, slow thrusts
designed to prolong the enjoyment. Except that I am crazy
hot for him and too close to the edge already. Without
warning, my semen geysers onto both of us as I scream his
name.
Mulder's smile turns to a grimace as the contractions of my
anus sweep him into his own wild orgasm. He eases out of me,
making me want to cry at the loss. I hear him dispose of the
condom, and the shuffle of clothes being dragged across the
floor. My eyelids are too heavy to lift, and I float,
serene.
The sudden blow to my stomach wrenches my eyes open. Mulder,
why did you hit me? I thought we were past that. Then I see
that he is seated on the couch. A wisp of smoke curls lazily
from the gun in his hand. My gun.
I raise my head with an effort. There is no pain, although
my stunned brain tells me there should be, with all the
blood flowing from the hole just beneath my ribcage. My
vision wavers, yet I manage to stare back at Mulder. The
"why" is wordless, as I can no longer speak.
"Did you really believe I would forgive you so easily,
Krycek?" No emotion mars his usual flat monotone. "You
owe
me too much. My father. Scully's sister. Betrayal upon
betrayal, Alex. You knew you'd have to pay for it
eventually."
I didn't kill them, I try to explain through the black spots
dancing in front of my eyes. But I no longer have the breath
to argue. He wouldn't believe me anyway.
He never does.
END...
Reparation—A Dream Snippet
by Russianrat
I know he won't believe me. Mulder's willing to follow any
crazy story if it smacks of aliens or government
conspiracies. Yet when it comes to me, the bastard tends to
develop instant mental block. Can't say as I blame him. I
haven't exactly been the model of upright citizenry.
