Title: Bang

Fandom: XFiles

Author/pseudonym: Barb G.

Rating: nc-17

Pairing: Mulder/Krycek

Date: April 7th

Series: Part one

Archive : Yes

Disclaimer: They belong to Chris Carter

Summary: The rat gets trapped. Mulder thinks he knows, but he doesn't. The smoker continues to be evil.

Warnings: Some nasties. Krycek is noble in his suffering. Takes a sudden right turn at the end.

Bang

by Barb G

The smoker put a cigarette in his mouth, and then paused. Mulder saw a flash of disgust cross Krycek's face and then he dug something out of his pocket. Krycek flicked the lighter and shifted sideways to light the smoke.

Mulder didn't move from where he crouched behind a truck. Krycek's car's interior light was on as the smoker caught Krycek's wrist and forced him closer with the lighter. Krycek fought for less than a heartbeat, and then let the smoking man manipulate him. Mulder felt his nails dig into his palms as the smoker took the lighter from Krycek and then slowly pulled Krycek down to his lap. Krycek didn't fight that, either. The smoker leaned back against his seat and sucked on his cigarette.

Mulder crawled away, not wanting to see Krycek's head come back up again. His palms began to ache as he realized that his nails were still embedded into the skin. He went up to his apartment and slammed the door behind him.

Krycek knocked on the door half an hour later. Mulder yanked the door open, but Krycek didn't look at him as he slouched against the doorframe.

"Hey," he said.

"What are you doing here?" Mulder asked.

"I was in the neighbourhood," he said.

Bullshit. Mulder had a call to go down the parking garage under his building. He had almost called out to him as the smoker drove up and Krycek ducked inside the car. "And?" Mulder asked.

"And I thought you'd like me to come up," Krycek said.

No, Mulder thought viciously. It was much more fun to watch him go down. "Neat-o," he said, standing out of the way.

Krycek almost looked relieved. "If this is a bad time, I could come back," he said, standing straight for the first time.

Mulder stepped out of the way. "By all means, come in."

Krycek stepped past him, but then jumped as Mulder grabbed his jacket. Mulder went to kiss him, but Krycek put his hand over his mouth. "Let me use the washroom," he said.

Mulder pushed him against the wall. "What if I said no?" he asked.

Krycek tensed. "You into kink, Mulder?"

"And if I was?" Mulder asked, working his leg between Krycek's thighs.

Krycek winced. "Just let me use the can."

Mulder let him go.

Krycek went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. The water started, and Mulder went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer before moving to the couch. Krycek took about ten minutes, while Mulder drummed his fingers on his thigh. The door finally opened and Krycek leaned against the wall.

"Come here," Mulder ordered. Krycek joined him on the couch, sitting close enough so that their thighs touched. Krycek went to kiss him, but Mulder grabbed his head and forced him down. Krycek tensed, unsure, but then undid Mulder's jeans like the good little whore he was.

Mulder wasn't hard, and for the first time, Krycek's mouth did nothing for him. There had been nights where even smelling Krycek's jacket got him excited. Krycek tried for a few minutes but Mulder eventually pushed him away. Krycek lost his balance and fell off the couch, and then looked at him, eyebrows almost touching. His eyes widened as Mulder suddenly stood up and stuffed himself back into his jeans.

Krycek didn't get off his knees as he scrambled back. Mulder felt a rush starting in the base of his spine; it had been a long time since he had felt that much power over Krycek. The power struggle had ended once Krycek's visits had started to become regular, but he had forgotten how much of a thrill it was.

Mulder backhanded him, and Krycek fell to his side. He didn't protest, which made Mulder angrier. He lashed out with his foot and caught Krycek in the ribs. With only his socks on, he doubted he would have broken anything, but seeing Krycek curl up to protect himself made him feel god-like. The power went to his cock, and he backed Krycek up to the wall.

"Get up," he snarled.

Krycek gasped, holding onto his side, but tried to push to his feet. Mulder held him down to his knees and Krycek got the point. He undid Mulder's jeans again, but this time Mulder's cock was hard. Krycek took him down his throat, and Mulder focused on Krycek subjugating himself again, and the thrill of it was enough to over-ride the part of him that actually pitied the man. He concentrated on Krycek moving his mouth up and down. Krycek moved mechanically, but Mulder was beyond caring.

He grabbed the back of Krycek's head and forced himself down the throat. Krycek gagged, once, but kept his teeth covered and took it. He came, holding Krycek tight against him until the last shudder passed before letting him go.

Krycek sat back on his heels and coughed. Mulder stood over him for another heartbeat before going back to where he had put his beer. Krycek hugged his jacket closer to his body and looked up. "You mind if I spend the night?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Mulder said. He grabbed the remote control and turned on the television.

Krycek stood up and went to the fridge. It opened and closed, and then he sat down next to Mulder. Mulder said nothing to him, pretty sure he wanted Krycek to leave, but then Krycek curled up beside him and put his head on Mulder's thigh. Mulder ignored him, and within minutes, Krycek was asleep. Mulder left him there and went into the bedroom.

He woke up the next morning and had a shower. By the time he finished, Krycek was sitting up on the couch. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked like you needed to sleep."

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again and stretched his back muscles. "The bed would have been more comfortable," he said, with only a slight amount of accusation.

"I'm sure it would have. I have an early meeting this morning."

Krycek took the hint; he grabbed his jacket and left.

#

Over his months of deskwork, Mulder had tracked down Krycek address. It hadn't been easy. Krycek had rented a car once, and Mulder had tracked down the false name to a false credit card with a false address, but he was able to trace back from the credit history. The smoker paid Krycek through a fruit import company, and the cheques had to go to a real address.

After three days of no Krycek, Mulder paid him a visit after work. The apartment Krycek kept was in a good neighbourhood and not what Mulder had expected at all for his assassin/whore.

He banged on the door, but there was no answer. He banged louder. "I know you're in there," he said, not knowing that at all. Eventually, the door jerked open. "I have neighbours," Krycek snapped.

Mulder stepped back. Krycek didn't look so good; his normally white skin was sallow, and Mulder had never seen him unshaven before.

Krycek stepped away and let Mulder inside. He locked the door, and without being told, he turned around and braced himself against the wall, spreading his legs. His head bowed forward.

"Skipping the preamble?" Mulder asked.

"It's what you came here for," Krycek said to the wall.

Mulder stepped up behind him, and Krycek tensed. "Where is it?" he asked, shoving his hands into Krycek's jeans' pockets. He didn't find the lube, but he palmed the little white lighter Krycek had used for the smoker.

"In my jacket."

Mulder moved away. Krycek remained against the wall for a minute, and then put his hands down. He moved stiffly back to the couch and lowered himself down.

"What happened?" Mulder asked, but Krycek shook his head. "Tell me," Mulder said, lowering his voice.

Krycek hesitated, but only for a second. He pulled off his shirt and let Mulder see the purple bruise over the left side of his ribcage. "Did I do that?" he asked. He hadn't thought he kicked that hard.

"No. Someone saw your handy-work and thought it needed something," Krycek said, quietly.

"Ribs?"

"No, I feel more like pizza tonight."

Mulder glared at him. "Did you break any ribs?"

"No."

"You've gone to the doctor?"

"I don't need a doctor to tell me I've broken ribs," Krycek said, and suddenly he was angry. "Where do you get off coming here? You don't want to fuck, I don't want to talk and I don't have a television."

"Do you want me to leave?" Mulder asked.

"Yes. I want you to leave. I want you to get the fuck out of my life."

Mulder threw the lighter at him. Krycek caught it out of reflex, and then stared at it. "You bastard," he finally said.

"I'm the bastard? I wasn't the guy blowing the black lung asshole in his car the other night."

Krycek flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but Mulder grabbed him by the shirt and threw him against the wall. Krycek hit, hard and grunted in pain. His arms came down, hugging his chest, which left the rest of his body vulnerable.

"Don't ever lie to me," Mulder growled, grabbing him by the hair. The shortness to it didn't give him a grip, so he settled on pinning Krycek to the wall with his elbow against Krycek's throat.

"What makes you so special?" Krycek managed. He winced again, expecting more pain, but Mulder had to force himself not to press harder.

"What are you telling him? How long have you reported to him?"

Krycek looked away. Mulder viciously pushed Krycek's left elbow, and Krycek choked out a cry of pain. He looked back at Mulder, eyes wide and nostrils flared, and then brought his knee up hard into Mulder's groin.

The pain knocked him to his knees, and Krycek pushed him away. Mulder held himself as the throb of pain echoed his heartbeat for what seemed like ever, and then finally became aware of Krycek pacing. "Get out of my apartment," Krycek finally said when Mulder was able to push himself up to his elbows. "How dare you come here. This is my home, and you bring your filth with you into it."

"Were you under orders to fuck me?" Mulder demanded.

Krycek flushed for a heartbeat, but then his mouth tightened. "Fuck you, Mulder."

"Did the smoking man tell you to get involved with me? It's a simple question, Krycek. I deserve an answer."

"Deserve? That's the difference between you and me, Mulder, I figured out a long time ago that world owes me jack-shit," Krycek snapped. He went to the door and opened it partway as he stood between the door and the wall. He pulled out his gun from behind him, and pointed it Mulder. "Now get the fuck out before I shoot you."

"What about all your neighbours?" Mulder asked, pushing painfully to his feet.

Krycek laughed. "Believe me, Mulder, I shoot you and they are my last concern."

That night, Mulder couldn't sleep. The clock on his nightstand said 3:23, but every time he closed his eyes, his mind wouldn't let Krycek go. He didn't understand why; Krycek had betrayed him. Krycek had fucked him to spy on him and reported back to the smoker like the good little whore he was. He knew that, but something was still wrong and he didn't...couldn't understand what.

Or he wouldn't let himself. Krycek had seemed honestly in pain, and not from his ribs. The truths he knew were only half, and it wasn't enough. He turned on the bedside lamp, slipped into yesterday's jeans, and grabbed his car keys.

The apartment was unlocked and empty. Mulder walked through the living room to the single, small bedroom. The only dents in the carpet were from the bed, and Mulder wondered how Krycek could have lived in the minimalist environment. He wanted to know what Krycek did with himself to fill up the hours between being the smoker's bitch, but in his mind he suddenly saw Krycek calming himself by staring at the blank walls. Was it enough to put down the disgust? Obviously not, Krycek had been full of self-loathe.

There was nothing else to learn. He went back to his car, suddenly exhausted, but by the time he got back to his place it was already almost five. He lay in his bed for an hour before it was time to wake up.

Mulder stumbled through his day, thinking of all the times in college where he had skipped sleeping for days and didn't feel the difference in his energy levels. Scully covered for him, prodding him once in a meeting when Skinner asked him a question. He mumbled something cryptic; Skinner had shook his head and continued.

"What's wrong with you, Mulder?" Scully asked.

"I didn't sleep last night."

"Something in the water?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If I say yes, will you promise not to shoot me?"

"No," she said, and then glanced at the clock. It was almost four o'clock, and they had worked through lunch at the meeting. "Go home, Mulder."

He didn't argue. He picked up some take out and once he was home, he popped in a video from his secret drawer. It was the first time he had taken them out since Krycek had made himself available, and the cheerful lighting and faked moans didn't draw him in. He watched, dispassionately, for twenty minutes and then turned it off. He stood up and went for a run.

He returned an hour later, but his door wasn't locked. He pulled his gun out, but pointed at the ground as he pushed the door open.

Krycek looked up from the video. He had muted it, and the bodies writhing against each other seemed even more ridiculous without the cheesy music. "I thought you told me to get out of your life," Mulder said, not putting his gun away.

"We all have our orders."

"So you admit you're his whore."

"No, I won't. I blow him occasionally. That doesn't make me his whore."

"It sure as hell doesn't make you his bridge partner."

Krycek clenched his fists as he stood up. "Go back to your fucking videos, Mulder. I'm sure you'll never have to question your right hand's motives," he said.

"What about your motives, Krycek? You report back to him, don't you?"

"Report what, Mulder?" Krycek demanded. His voice shook he sounded that angry. "That you don't like eggrolls but love springrolls? That you have a preference for Ivory soap? When have I ever asked you anything remotely sensitive? Do you think that piddly little lock on your desk would keep me out if I didn't want it to? Clue in here, Mulder, I don't come here to spy on you!"

"Why do you come here then?" Mulder demanded.

Krycek started to laugh. It started out as a single guffaw, but soon Krycek was against the wall, holding his sides. He finally managed to take a deep breath and wiped the tears from his face. "You really don't get it, do you, Mulder?" he asked.

"Humour me," Mulder said flatly.

"I needed you," Krycek said. "I needed you and you beat the crap out of me."

"Why did you blow the smoker?"

Krycek looked at him. "Do you think I'm free to do whatever I want?" he asked. "The smoker owns my ass, Mulder. Can you even comprehend what that means?"

"It means you suck him off in cars whenever he wants."

Krycek stood up to go. He made it to the door before he turned around. "No. It means a hell of a lot of things, but it doesn't mean he has the right to fuck me. They're grooming the next generation, Mulder, and they don't want any butt-boys in their ranks."

"So what's your excuse?"

"You're off limits. The smoker...lets me come to you if I play by his rules. His rules suck, Mulder."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why did you treat me like shit?"

"Why did you move?"

"Why did you go look for me?"

"Fuck you, Krycek."

Krycek didn't turn around. "What was I supposed to say?"

"You should have trusted me."

"You shouldn't have assumed the worst."

"What else do you assume when your lover is going down on another man?"

Krycek shuddered. It was barely visible, but Mulder saw it. "Look at him, Mulder. Would you deliberately put your lips on anything that man had unless you had to?"

Mulder moved to where he stood against the wall. "And as long as you continue this, the arrangement stands?"

Krycek nodded and bowed his head. Mulder lifted up his turtleneck shirt, so that he could see the bruise. Krycek tried to shy away, but Mulder dropped to his knees and sat back. Krycek froze, unsure, and then carefully turned around. "Even with this?" he asked.

"You didn't do that," Krycek said.

"No, but I started it."

"Do you think that's the worst thing I've ever been though?" Krycek asked, quietly.

Mulder kissed his thigh. "Bedroom, now," he said.

Krycek caught his wrist. "One thing," he said.

Mulder moved next to him and fit into his body. "What?" he asked, kissing his way down Krycek's neck.

"Hit me again, I'll kill you," Krycek said in a flat voice. He pushed Mulder away for a second. "Tell me you understand."

Mulder had been trying to get his hands under Krycek's jeans. Mulder looked at him, but Krycek's face didn't change. "I understand," he said, solemnly.

Krycek nodded, and then closed his eyes and rested against Mulder for the first time. "Good," he said, but almost didn't speak loud enough to be heard. Mulder held him up against the wall, but stepped back.

"Bedroom?" he asked.

Krycek nodded again without opening his eyes. Mulder kissed him and brought him back. They made it to the bedroom without knocking anything over. Mulder tugged on Krycek's shirt again, and Krycek let him pull it off. He raised his arms for Mulder, but as Mulder was over him, trying to pull it off, Krycek raised himself off the bed and rubbed his forehead against Mulder's belly. The motion went straight to his groin, and he had to stop himself from collapsing over Krycek.

Krycek had locked his fingers together, and wasn't giving Mulder an inch of reprieve as he began to kiss his was across Mulder's abdomen. Krycek couldn't undo Mulder's buttons, and apparently had had to settle on working his tongue between the button gaps. Mulder tightened the T-shirt around Krycek's wrist and shoved the rest of it between the bladder and the bed. It wasn't a secure hold, but it was enough to give off the illusion. Krycek settled down immediately and smiled.

Mulder slid down Krycek and tugged on the man's jeans. He now had Krycek's complete co-operation. They pulled down easily enough and Mulder threw them over his shoulder. Krycek kept his eyes closed and didn't fight as Mulder lifted his legs up.

Mulder reached into the bedside table drawer and pulled out the lube. Krycek didn't move as Mulder popped the lid and squeezed out some. Krycek tensed as Mulder slowly worked in his finger inside of him, but then relaxed around him. Mulder fumbled with the condom, finally rolling it on, and then slipped inside.

They rarely actually fucked. It just didn't fit into the relationship. It was much easier to suck and run than it was to actually get the preparation out of the way before they had sex. Krycek was tight against him. He put his hands over Krycek's hips, holding him down as he started to fuck.

Krycek still hadn't opened his eyes, and he stretched his neck out to make him all the more vulnerable. Mulder moved one of his hands up to Krycek's throat without actually applying pressure, and Krycek pressed into it.

Mulder broke away. "Up," he ordered.

Krycek tensed under him. "No," he muttered.

"Krycek, get up or I'll stop."

Krycek pulled his wrist out of the T-shirt and struggled to sit up. Mulder pulled him up and guided him down to his hands and knees. Krycek bowed his head, hugging the pillow to his cheek as Mulder took him again so he could reach down his body and take his cock in his own hand. Mulder kissed the back of his neck, licking off the sweat, and gripped Krycek's hips tighter. It was better, even through the condom. There was no resistance to his thrusts; he felt like he could bury himself inside of Krycek forever. Sweat beaded on his back, and he took a moment to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

Krycek was making sounds in the back of his throat, tiny, vulnerable sounds that weren't whimpers or moans. It always bothered him that Krycek didn't speak, but he loved those sounds. He found himself torturing Krycek purposefully to pull more of them from him. The base of his spine began to warm as the orgasm approached, and he didn't try to fight it.

Krycek pushed his face into the pillow. It almost sounded like he was sobbing into it, but when Mulder touched his shoulder, Krycek shrank back. Krycek moved his hand frantically over his cock, and Mulder would have wondered about how much he was enjoying it if he wasn't almost ready to come himself.

Krycek's body shuddered, and Mulder felt the muscles tighten around his cock. He tried to fight it, but Krycek's sounds that managed to escape the pillow made it impossible. The sudden warmth flooded him as he came, and just as he rolled off Krycek, Krycek turned his head and started to pant. His face was flushed, and Mulder wiped the sweat off his forehead just before he fell asleep.

# # #

Krycek woke up and managed to work his way from under Mulder's outstretched arms. He pulled his jeans on, trying to silence his growling stomach. He padded out into the main room, but there was nothing in the fridge or cupboards that resembled food. He opened the Chinese take-out box, and almost risked it before deciding it wasn't worth it.

He didn't bother with his shirt, but grabbed his jacket and zipped it up before opening the door.

The hall lights were out, and the smell of cigarettes was strong. Krycek tried to slam the door shut, but someone stronger than him threw it open. Krycek tried to step away, but he was up against the wall with a gun pointed at his belly before he could. He reached for his gun, but it was on the floor of the bedroom. The smoker backhanded him for trying.

"Where is he?" the smoker asked.

Krycek bit his lip, but the man just nodded to his enforcer, the one who knocked the door open, and he headed to the bedroom. Krycek opened his mouth to warn Mulder, but the smoker slapped his hand over Krycek's mouth and he couldn't speak.

The sound of struggle didn't last very long in the bedroom. The smoker waited for the silence, and then moved his hand. "I didn't do anything," Krycek said in a low voice. "Why are you doing this?"

"You didn't pay for it," the man said. "Did you think I'd let you have a free one?"

"I was going to stop by this morning."

"Forgive me if I fail to believe you."

The enforcer brought Mulder out at gunpoint and forced him down on the couch. "What the hell are you doing here? Get the hell out of my house."

The enforcer jammed his gun under Mulder's jaw, and Krycek jumped forward, but the smoker knocked him back again. Mulder's hair was wild, but at least the enforcer had allowed him sweatpants. Krycek moved away from the wall, running his hand down smoker's gun hand. "You want to get it on, let's go," Krycek said. He worked his hand across the man's chest and down to his abdomen.

"I don't think so, Alex. You broke the rules; you have to pay."

Mulder tried to stand up, but the enforcer brought his gun down over his shoulder and he fell back to the couch with a cry. Krycek tried to go to him, but the smoker slammed him against the wall again. "Don't hurt him."

"You're in no position to ask for favours," the smoker snapped.

Krycek tensed, forcing his body to get over the initial disgust. He moved closer, and even through the man's breath smelled of smoke, Krycek kissed his mouth. "Leave him alone, please," he whispered.

"That's better, you're finally remembering your manners," the smoker said. He moved his thigh, pressing it against Krycek's legs, and Krycek willingly spread them, letting the man nudge him. He gritted his teeth to prepare for the sudden pain, but didn't try to move away from it. He looked up at the smoker, and suddenly knew what was expected. He began to move against the thigh.

"Have you met Hans?" the smoker asked, and Krycek knew he wasn't supposed to stop. Mulder wasn't looking at him; he was staring at the desk instead. Krycek briefly wondered where Mulder hid his spare gun and hoped that he wasn't thinking of using it. The smoker was there for disciplinary reasons; no one had to die.

Krycek glanced to the enforcer. He had seen him around at various functions, but they had never talked. He was part of the stupid, obedient corps that the consortium kept around as disposable. "Haven't had the pleasure," Krycek said, carefully, and winced as the smoker kneed him. There was no real force to the movement, but Krycek spread his legs more so the smoker could force his thigh harder against him.

"Oh, you will. Or rather, he will. He was in a foul mood having to come here with me this early in the morning. I think you owe him a thank you."

Mulder was still a bit dazed over the blow. Krycek shook his head. "Not here," he said.

"Oh, here, Krycek. And if you aren't going to show Hans a good time, I think he's taken a liking to your friend."

Krycek tensed. "Okay. I'll show him a good time. I'll show both of you a real good time, just not here," he said, and pressed himself harder against the smoker's thigh. He picked up the man's other hand and brought it to his lips. "Please."

"I've never heard you beg before," the smoker said. "You think it would have moved me more. Hans? Take him."

"No!" Krycek almost screamed. "No, you want me, I'm better than him. I swear, his blowjobs suck. All teeth." He backed away from the smoker, and felt almost bowlegged.

"Krycek, no," Mulder said, sitting up again. Hans turned to him, pointing his gun, but Krycek grabbed his hand.

"Don't."

Hans turned to him, and the gun pressed up against Krycek's chest. Krycek stood there and took the pain, and didn't wince as Hans scraped the gun up over his throat and pressed it into the same soft spot. "Open your mouth," Hans said.

Krycek hated the taste of gun oil, but he did. Hans pressed the gun against his teeth, and Krycek obediently covered them with his teeth to keep the metal from clanking on them. Without being told to, Krycek dropped to his knees, and Hans hissed in appreciation. Krycek closed his eyes, but opened his mouth wider to accept more of the gun barrel. He could hear Mulder's breathing, but he wasn't speaking.

Hans undid his zipper. It was a universal sound, and Krycek sat up taller on his heels. He didn't want to open his eyes again, preferring his darkness, and Hans grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to him. The man's cock hit his nose, but before he could yank back, Hans forced it in his mouth. Krycek only covered his teeth and tried to breathe when Hans let him; it was the only participation Hans wanted.

Mulder moaned from the couch. Krycek almost opened his eyes to see, but kept to his darkness. It was easier. Hans was already cursing him a slut, and he ignored the painful grasp on the back of his head as Hans stood up on the tips of his toes to come. Krycek swallowed it and sat back down on his heels, wiping his mouth. Hans backed away from him, and he waited.

Finally Mulder slipped down to the floor with him. "Alex?" he asked.

It was the first time Mulder had called him by name. He opened his eyes and Mulder reached up and wiped a trace of semen from the corner of his mouth. "Are you done with him?" Mulder asked, harshly.

The smoker only laughed. "Not even close. Consider this a temporary reprieve."

Krycek pushed to his feet. Hans moved faster than he did, and blocked his path. "Where are you going?" the smoker asked.

Krycek kept his shoulders bowed and his head down. "Bathroom," he said.

The smoker walked next to him. Hans' gun was out and at Mulder in the next instant as Hans pushed Mulder back to the couch. "Do you want to wash out your mouth?" the smoker asked, false sympathy dripping.

Krycek nodded. "Pity," the smoker said, and then looked at Hans. "Keep him here. If he tries to get away from you, shoot him."

Krycek tried to pull away from him, "Not the bedroom," he said. He tried to plant his heels and brace himself against the doorway with his hand, but the smoker leaned into him.

"Tell me if you want Hans to help you remember your manners. It would mean that you would owe him another favor, though. Would you want that?"

Krycek craned his neck in time to see Hans lick his lips, and he stopped fighting. He stood in the middle of the bedroom as the smoker shut the door behind them. Krycek dropped to his knees again, but the smoker shook his head. "Not this time."

Krycek blanched. "You said you wouldn't fuck me," he said.

"And you said you wouldn't fuck with me, Alex. It looks like we both lied. Take off your clothes."

Krycek only hugged his jacket more tightly around him. He could hear Mulder's voice on the other side, but he couldn't make out the words. The smoker went through Mulder's dresser, but only until he found a sturdy belt. "You're still dressed, Alex. Shall I ask Hans to join us?"

Krycek unzipped his jacket and kicked his shoes off. He stood up to slip out of his jeans and jolted as the smoker touched his shoulder. "Against the bed, Alex. Kneel on the floor and put your arms on the bed."

Krycek obeyed. The smoker didn't play any mind games with him; he didn't make Krycek count them out or thank him for each blow, but he had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming once the welts started to form. He wondered how much Mulder would be hearing, and whether he would do anything stupid.

The pain seemed to continue forever, and he wondered about the smoker's stamina. He had been in pain for so long the blows started to become welcomed. "Fucker," the smoker finally snapped, wrapping the belt around Krycek's throat.

The rape was hard and over. Krycek's back hurt more than his ass, and the choking pressure kept him from feeling the man's oily skin over him. Considering that Mulder had taken the time to prepare him less than two hours ago, there was no tearing or pain. When the smoker finished, Krycek curled up on the floor and stayed in the room as the smoker left. He was there for over ten minutes before the door opened again, but Krycek didn't look up to see who it was.

"Krycek?" Mulder asked.

So they were back to Krycek again. Interesting. Krycek didn't stir as Mulder knelt down beside him. He didn't have to ask any questions; the smoker had been kind enough to leave the used condom on the floor beside him. Krycek couldn't break through the apathy far enough to want to do something about it, though.

Mulder undid the belt and threw it across the room. "Krycek, I--" he said.

Krycek broke away from him and crawled to return it. Mulder backed away when he brought it back. "What are you doing?" Mulder demanded.

"Hit me," Krycek finally said, offering the belt.

"Forget that!"

Krycek's hand tightened on the leather. "Mulder, please," he said.

"You made me promise never to hit you again."

"This is different," Krycek waited until he was sure Mulder had denied him, and then pushed to his feet. "Where are you going?" Mulder demanded, angrily.

"There are people out there who would be glad to do this for me," Krycek said, letting his voice drop with the threat.

Mulder grabbed the belt from him. "You want me to beat you?" Mulder demanded, pushing Krycek back against the bed again. Krycek took the step backwards, and then dropped to his knees, assuming the same position that the smoker had made him take. Mulder stood behind him, unsure, and the first blow that hit him was so gentle it almost made Krycek sick to his stomach.

He turned his head so he could look at Mulder, but it was an awkward angle and he went back to staring straight ahead. "I'm asking you to do this for me," he said, voice soft. "Mulder, please. I don't want a stranger to do it."

Mulder pulled away from him, and Krycek buried his face into the blankets. He sighed, willing his muscles to have the strength to push up and walk away, when the first real blow hit him across his back. Krycek cried out, almost out of surprise, but the feel of the noise escaping him was satisfying. He had bottled it up too much.

Mulder almost waited too long for the next one, but at least he was expecting it. He sobbed, choking a scream, and didn't have to wait for the next one. His entire body was on fire again, but there was no shame in his tears or in his screams. Mulder hit him for the fourth time, and Krycek shook his head. He heard the belt drop and Mulder was over him, helping him up to the bed in the next instant. He was already naked, and the soft blankets felt good against his skin. He was still crying, but didn't botherto make himself stop.

Mulder left him for a heartbeat, but only long enough to bring back a bowl of hot water and a cloth. The cloth became raspy as it became wet, but Mulder was gentle. None of the marks had broken the skin, but he could feel the heat radiate from them. The chill of the water helped, and he had fallen asleep before Mulder finished.

He woke up in the middle of the night, frozen. Mulder had left him over the blankets to keep from moving him, and after a careful shift, Krycek made it under the blankets. Mulder moved over him, even though he must have been an iceberg suddenly in Mulder's bed, but the man's warm skin and the smell of him helped him slide back to sleep.

The next morning he woke to Mulder's alarm, but didn't get dressed until Mulder was in the shower. It took more effort to pull his T-shirt over his back than he wanted Mulder to see. The muscles ached dully as he walked, but he slipped his shoes on and left before Mulder got out of the bathroom.

He didn't want to explain himself; the shame was deeper than that. He drove his car away, cursing at the lumbar supports that pressed into the worst of his welts. It was an uncomfortable, but Krycek spent all day in the car, watching the smoker's office. It was a long shot, Hans could have just been moonlighting for the smoker, but the consortium was too big for Krycek to start looking under every rock. He had seen the smoker's face when he spoke of Hans, and hoped that the smoker had used Hans in the past.

By the second day, Krycek's knotted muscles made even moving his head painful. His stomach had stopped growling, at least. A tan van stopped and Hans got out without bothering to pay the meter. Krycek shrank lower as Hans walked past him, but the man wasn't looking for him. He went up to the smoker's office, and twenty minutes later came back down again.

Krycek gave him a half a block lead.

The van didn't have any windows, which made shadowing it slightly more easy. Krycek kept five or six car lengths away and with the regular traffic, there was no way to tell Hans had been singled out. He didn't drive like he knew he had a tail, and pulled out next to an abandoned building. Krycek circled around and parked in the alleyway.

He heard the screams and the shots before he reached the stairwell. He pulled his own gun, and ran up the first two flights. He cocked his head, trying to locate any more sounds, and heard the gasps of someone dying coming from one of the rooms down the hall. He moved carefully across the floor, and heard more rustling in the third door on the right.

Krycek took a deep breath and kicked in the door. The two men and the boy on the floor didn't look up, but Hans froze. "Give me the gun," Krycek said.

Hans laughed, turning around. "Well, if it isn't the little rat, come to play again," he said, without dropping his gun.

Hans tried to approach him, but Krycek dropped the gun down from the kill shot. He squeezed the trigger, and Hans' hand suddenly had a bullet through it. Hans bellowed in pain, But Krycek moved back to the kill shot. "The next one goes through your throat. Give me the fucking gun," Krycek said, flatly.

Hans tossed the gun to him and gripped his wounded hand. Blood splattered off his fingers, landing around the blood spilled from the two men. "You going to kill me, rat?" Hans demanded as Krycek put his own gun away. He tugged his glove up as he clicked the safety off.

Krycek kicked the door shut behind him. "Not right away," he said. "Drop your pants."

"You're kidding," Hans snapped.

"Not even a little bit," Krycek said. He took a step closer, pressing his gun into the soft spot under Hans' jaw. "Do it or you won't like what I shoot off next," Krycek said.

Hans went stubborn, but tensed as Krycek almost lifted him off his feet. They both heard the boy moan together, and Krycek looked over his shoulder. The boy was only shot in the belly. He moaned again, trying to crawl, and Krycek swore. He had been looking forward to spending the evening with Hans, but if the boy died while he was playing, Mulder would care about such things.

"You're lucky," Krycek said. Hans got a single bullet to the brain, and Krycek moved to the boy. "Don't move. What's your name?"

"Pedro," the boy said.

Krycek ripped off Hans' shirt and balled it up. "Hold this to your belly," Krycek said. He lifted the boy, but there was no exit wound. A blanket lay in the corner, and Krycek wrapped the boy with it. "Come on," he said.

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