AUTHOR: Kelly Keil
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just link it to my website.
FEEDBACK: Is welcomed, read, and answered.
SPOILERS: Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.
RATING: NC-17 (There be smut. And violence)
CLASSIFICATION: M/Sc/K, Krycek POV, angst, dark humor
DISCLAIMER: The X-files characters portrayed in this story belong to Fox, 1013, and Chris Carter.
SUMMARY: Things fall apart.
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS: Thank you to my lovely and talented betas: Lysandra, Aurora Vere, JHJ Armstrong, and Spica. Thanks also to my husband for letting go of his Max Payne game long enough for me to check my email.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the sequel to another story of mine -- Captivation. It can be found at my website: http://grapefruithead.com/kellyfic/Captivation.htm. I don't think it's necessary to have read Captivation, but it couldn't hurt.
DEDICATION: For Rachel Anton, who stalks in the nicest possible way.
Dissolution By Kelly Keil
It would be safer to put Scully in the trunk of the car, but that's too creepy even for me.
I have plenty of time to consider my options while I wait in the FBI parking garage for the fabulous Wonder Twins to show up. After much internal debate, I decide that after tying Scully up, Mulder and I will lay her on the back seat of the car and cover her with a blanket. That way we'll be able to pretend she's feeling ill if we're stopped by someone. It's very difficult to explain a woman in your backseat trussed like a Christmas turkey, even is she is a willing captive. Especially if she's a willing captive. There are some things you don't want to have to justify to a Virginian cop.
After I've waited in the garage long enough to wonder if just going home and watching TV might be a better idea, Scully approaches the driver's side of the car and Mulder goes to the passenger side. I step out from behind a concrete pillar and glide up beside Scully. I press the muzzle of my gun to the side of her neck and say, "Let's get the show on the road, okay?"
"Krycek?" she squeaks -- actually squeaks -- as if she hadn't been planning on this for weeks.
"Expecting someone else? Your ass is mine now, sweetheart." I look up to see Mulder standing on the other side of the car like a big dope. "Get the hell over here, Mulder. I need your help."
Mulder shuffles over, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, "...pain in the ass."
"Grab the roll of tape from my pocket and secure your partner."
Mulder begins to unceremoniously tape Scully's wrists together. While he's occupied, I throw my recently purchased bag of tricks into the trunk of the car. Mulder works quickly, and soon we're on the road, with Scully lying on the backseat, me in the driver's seat because only I know our destination, and Mulder riding shotgun.
Let the fun and games commence.
A traffic light ahead turns yellow and I brake the car in an effort to appear as a law-abiding citizen. There's a thump and a muffled squawk from the region of the back seat. Mulder throws me a disgusted look, as if that's supposed to make me feel bad, then leans over his seat to rescue Scully. He manages to lift her up and onto the back seat, huffing and puffing the whole time. He covers her with the blanket again and twists back around in his seat before the light turns green.
I wonder if her little tumble hurt. Paybacks are a bitch, Scully, but you already knew that.
"If you do that again, Krycek, I'll --" begins Scully in a low growl.
I cluck my tongue. "You know the rules, Scully. Don't make me turn this car around and take you home." As if I would. She knows it's an idle threat, but it doesn't matter. It's her own rule I'm calling her on, and she knows it.
Scully falls into a sullen silence.
I catch Mulder's eye and see that he looks anxious or worried. For a moment I wonder why he's upset, then am annoyed with myself because I care. When did that start? Joining in on Mulder and Scully's fucked-up world of make believe is one thing, giving a shit about them is another.
Unfortunately, there's always a price to pay for everything. You can't be intimately familiar with the taste and smell of a person, have every inch of his body imprinted on your brain, know what it takes to make him scream from either pain or pleasure, and still remain indifferent to him. Or her, for that matter.
This weakness I have for the two of them is going to get me into trouble, sooner or later. I am fucked, and it's their fault, and neither one cares. All they can see is their own problems, their own strained relationship, their own fucking navels as they endlessly contemplate their lives. I'm becoming like them, which is scary as hell. It's like a messed up version of the Stockholm syndrome. It's got to end. But not quite yet.
"What are you thinking, Krycek?" asks Mulder, lapsing into psychologist mode out of nervous habit.
I brake for another light, this time taking care not to throw Scully off the seat again. That can wait for when she's not expecting it. On impulse, I reach over, cup Mulder's neck, and drag him close. I bring his mouth to mine and suck at his lips, which are parted as if he's been waiting for me to kiss him. His breath hitches and I swallow the sound. This is a dumb-ass thing to be doing right now but I can't seem to break away from him. I always forget, when I'm not with them, how addictive they are -- Mulder with his open sensuality and Scully with her tightly leashed passion. Mulder reaches over and his hand goes to my crotch, stroking the erection that was at half-mast but has now surged to three-quarters. I run my tongue over his lower lip. The kiss liquefies my mind, and thoughts of terminating our association slip quietly away.
The driver behind us honks his horn and we break apart, startled, as if we'd both been doused with cold water. The light has turned green. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm becoming careless, and I'm nuts to let this go on. "It's none of your fucking business," I say. From the backseat, I hear an annoyed huff. No doubt Scully is dying to know what's going on.
I step on the accelerator and the car surges forward. Mulder's hand steals back between my legs, squeezing and stroking my cock. The anxious look has left his face, and now he just seems intent on making me come in my pants. I really like the jeans I'm wearing, so I take Mulder's hand and move it back to his own lap, all while changing lanes to get around some asshole going thirty miles per hour.
Beside me, Mulder is smirking. "You were thinking about us," he says. Smug bastard. But he's pretty much right on the money and I think he knows that. Mulder laughs and his hand reaches between my legs again. "How much longer before we get to the motel?"
"Too long," I say between clenched teeth. I swat his hand away. Jesus, man, not while I'm driving. Does he want to get us all fucking killed? "Too goddamned long."
"Scully's going to love this place," Mulder says, eyeing the motel I've chosen for the night's festivities.
From the backseat, I hear an abortive squeak. Scully's muffled her own protest. I'm impressed at her self-control. If it was me in the back seat, I'd sit up and look around.
"Sorry, Pumpkin," I say, looking over my shoulder at the deliciously wrapped package in the backseat, "you'll just have to be patient." Her eyes do their best to bore holes in my hide. Beautiful. It's an act worthy of an Academy Award.
I can hear her acceptance speech now. She clutches the Oscar to her so that it's between her breasts, which are nearly bared in some slinky low-cut gown, and she speaks in that low, fuck-me-now voice of hers. "I'd like to thank the Academy, and my partners Mulder and Krycek for being so generous and giving when they agreed to tie me up, but most of all I'd like to thank my fucked up psyche, which insists I play mind games on myself to be able to get off. I couldn't have given such a wonderful performance without you."
I can't help but laugh a little at that. Scully looks irritated with me for laughing at her. Oh well.
I look back at Mulder. Blue neon from the motel's sign falls across his face in intermittent flashes. "Get the room," I tell him. Scully's been in character for a good half-hour now and I'm more than ready to start the show.
Mulder gives a little bark of a laugh. "Why me?"
Apparently Mulder hasn't read the playbill. Starring in the role of flunky is Fox Mulder. Someone's got to fetch and carry, and this night out, it's sure as hell not going to be me.
"Because it's your turn, asshole," I say.
He throws me a look that is both annoyed and apologetic. I'm not sure how he manages to get both emotions on his face at one time. Maybe it's genetic. The car door slams shut behind him and I watch him walk toward the motel's office for a few moments.
"Mulder has a nice ass." I turn my head to look at Scully. "Oops. Did I say that out loud? Not that it's a newsflash to you, of course." I give her a little grin.
She frowns back because I'm breaking one of her fucking rules by not being serious enough for her taste. Trust Scully to give sex laws and regulations. She thinks that she can control me. She's the sort of woman who would pet a polar bear and expect to remain unmauled, as long as she told the polar bear first that it wasn't allowed to use its claws. She knows that polar bears, while cute and fluffy, are also man-killers, but she feels that doesn't apply to her because she's made the rules.
The only problem is that polar bears care fuck-all for rules, but the Scullys of the world never realize that. It's part of the reason why she's so fun to play with.
"So, Scully," I say. "Do you think Mulder's got a nice ass?"
I half expect Scully to stay silent, but she fires a reply at me right away. "Yeah, Mulder's got a nice ass, but tonight, it's not his ass that's on the line, is it?"
Nice answer. I decide to lob another volley at her. "Looking forward to tonight?"
Scully frowns again. The answer, obviously, is yes, but she can't say it because in the script that runs through her rigidly controlled head, she's my captive, and all of this is supposedly against her will.
She settles for, "You know the answer to that," said in a tight voice, so I know that I've forced her to say it.
She and Mulder are messed in the head. Completely. One as bad as the other. Of course, that I'm here with them probably means that I win the "Most Crazy" award. Lucky me.
I reach over with my good arm and shove my hand down Scully's pants. She gasps, not expecting this. I push my way past her panties and slide over her clit. She is wet and hot and slick with want. Just like I knew she would be. I pull my hand out from her pants and bring my fingers to my mouth to taste them. I lick each one slowly, my eyes on her the whole time. Her breathing speeds up a little; I can see her chest hitch as she tries to draw in more air.
"Yeah," I say. "I guess I do know the answer to that."
Scully lets out a short huff but offers no further comment. I turn my head and see Mulder is hurrying back to us, presumably with keys in hand.
"Okay, Pumpkin, it's show time."
"Don't call me that," she hisses at me.
I lean over the seat so that my face is very close to hers. "I'm in charge, Scully, and I'll call you whatever the fuck I want."
I can tell from her eyes that she's pleased. I've played according to her goddamned rules. Fuck. Score one for Scully.
Then I think of what's in the trunk and smile. "Pumpkin," I add, then get out of the car to join Mulder.
Mulder is being a bitch. I hate it when he's a bitch. It's not sexy, no matter what he thinks.
"Why do you want me to carry Scully?" He narrows his eyes at me, as if he's suspicious of my motives, and his lower lip pooches out in a pout.
I don't know if he really thinks I'm up to something or if he's just being lazy. "One," I say, "because you're the good cop and I'm the bad cop. Two, I've got something I need to get from the trunk, and I don't feel like getting it and carrying Scully, too. Three, and most importantly, you fuckhead, I've got the one arm." For demonstration purposes, I knock on the prosthesis with the knuckles of my right hand. It makes a nice emphatic sound. "Now as much fun as it would be to lose my grip on Scully and drop her on her ass, that's gonna look bad, even in this neighborhood. Besides, I thought guys like you lived for this shit."
Mulder sighs. "I'm going to end up with a hernia." Like this is somehow my fault.
He opens the door to the car and bends down to lift Scully. I can tell by the way he's bringing her out that she's not helping him at all. I'm not sure how much she weighs -- maybe a buck ten, tops -- but if it's dead weight, it'll feel like more. Mulder grunts and hisses, "You could help a little," to her, confirming my previous suspicions.
I turn my back on Mulder's trial and pop the trunk of the car. I grab the plastic bag containing my purchases and follow them inside the room.
Earlier, I'd gone to one of those stores that is open twenty-four hours and sells just about everything. The duct tape I'd bought has already been used to bind Scully's wrists and ankles, and is now lying on the floor of the car. Everything else is still in the bag, and as Mulder puts Scully down on the bed, I take the items out of the bag and arrange them on the hotel room table.
Mulder lets the condoms and lubricant go by without a comment, but he looks a little puzzled when I bring out the last two items -- a dog leash and collar, both made from bright blue nylon. The collar has the extra-added bonus of a row of plastic fake diamonds. It's a nice effect.
"You've got to be kidding," says Mulder.
Scully gives a little gasp. "No," she says. "I'm not wearing that."
I kind of anticipated this happening. In her mind, I'm pretty sure bondage consists of leather and steel. What I've brought isn't serious or intimidating, it's silly. More than that, the restraints are totally symbolic. To free herself, all she'd have to do is reach up and unbuckle the collar. She wants to pretend that all of this against her will, and she can't do that if she's not really tied down. Well, that's just too damn bad. I want to see Scully in a nylon dog collar. More than that, I want her to know that she's here by her own choice. I'm tired of being her patsy.
"Oh, yeah," I say, "you are." I put down the collar. "Let's strip her."
"I'll hold her and you can do the honors," offers Mulder, and that's fine by me. If he objects to the collar and leash, he doesn't let on.
Mulder sits on the bed and hauls Scully into his lap, facing away from him. He throws her bound arms over her head and partially over one of his shoulders. He holds her arms in place with one of his arms and wraps the other one around her waist. Scully struggles a little, just to show she's game.
I take my knife from its ankle holster and brandish it before Scully. Her eyes are very big now, the pupils dilated. I'm not sure if it's from sexual excitement or fear or both. I suppose it doesn't really matter. They seem to be the same thing to her. She fears excitement and is excited by fear. Because of this, she's constructed the elaborate scenario that holds Mulder and me like flies in a spider's web. It allows her the illusion of losing control in an environment she knows she has complete control over. Mulder and I go along with it because it beats the alternative, which is no Scully at all.
While I haven't lost any sleep over it, I have wondered why she's such a control freak. Mulder's better at the psychological crap than I'll ever be, and maybe he could tell me that it's because she was spanked one too many times as a child, or that she's exhibiting her dominance over men in a male dominated world, or that it's from her military upbringing, or some piece of New Age bullshit, like this is Scully's way of running with the wolves. Who knows? Probably not even Scully herself.
What has, once or twice, kept me awake at night is the thought that I am the cause. I recommended that she be abducted. At the time, I saw her as Mulder's weak spot, and that hasn't changed. I know that there is a part of me that lets her punish me because I feel I deserve it. She is like fire, capable of warmth and light and pain and death. I am the insect drawn to the fire's light, thinking that it's the moon, too intent on serving instinct to notice its mistake.
It's not until Mulder speaks that I realize I've been staring at Scully for quite a while.
"Krycek? Are we going to start now or what?" he says.
I look up to see an impatient Mulder still holding Scully with her arms above her head.
"Yeah," I say, and get to work.
I pretend that I don't know that there's a change of clothes for Scully in the trunk of the car as I cut the buttons off of her blouse, one by one. There is something about having your clothing cut from your body that makes you feel helpless. Scully slumps against Mulder as I finish with the last button and her blouse gapes wide, showing a white cotton bra. There's no front closure, so I use the knife to cut it apart.
Scully hisses and I realize that I've been clumsy. Dark blood beads up from a shallow scratch on her chest. I glance up at Mulder, expecting to see rage on his face, but he looks back at me dispassionately. "Nice job, Krycek," is all he says. He's being sarcastic, but his tone is curiously flat, as if he doesn't care one way or the other.
I look back at Scully and I think that maybe the emotion in her eyes really is fear this time. This isn't how things are supposed to go. Blood begins to fall in slow trails down to her stomach and I have to do something because Mulder won't for whatever fucked up reason and I don't know what to do except to lower my head to her skin and lick the blood from it.
"I'm sorry," I say against her skin, my mouth tracing the words on the slight wound.
Scully stiffens at first, then relaxes. "You're going to get it infected," she says.
"Shut up, Scully," I say, and Mulder chuckles. I taste Scully's metallic blood and warm skin, and feel her breath stir my hair. Mulder shifts on the bed and Scully's body rises and falls under my lips. My erection throbs with the pulse that pounds in my ears.
I don't bother with the knife on Scully's pants. Instead, I pull at them and the button that fastens them at the waist pops off and falls to the floor. The zipper pulls down on its own as I force the pants down past Scully's hips. Her panties are white cotton like the bra, and I pull them down, too. The duct tape on Scully's ankles is in my way, so I grab the knife again and cut it off, this time taking more care. With her legs free, I remove her pants, underwear, and shoes in one motion, then spread Scully's legs wide, so they fall on either side of Mulder's legs.
I put my hand between her legs and slide first one, then two fingers inside her. At the same time, Mulder's hand covers her breast, then his fingers tug at the nipple, making it harden. Scully sucks in her breath. My thumb brushes her clit and she exhales. "Ah, God," she says, and tries to bring down her bound arms, but Mulder won't let her. He whispers something in her ear that I can't hear.
I move my fingers in and out of her more rapidly while rubbing her clit with my thumb. It's a tricky operation, like rubbing your stomach while patting your head, but I'm not without practice. My hand is just beginning to cramp a little when the flush on Scully's skin deepens and her breath starts coming out in shaky little gasps. She becomes rigid, and I feel her body contract around my fingers. "Oh, yes, yes," she murmurs, eyes closed. Her mouth is on Mulder's neck and I'm amused to see that he's going to have quite the mark to hide in the morning.
I step back and grab the leash from the table. I look for something to hook it to and for a minute I think this isn't going to work out until I discover that the lamp on the bedside table is permanently attached. Perfect. I loop the end of the leash around the lamp and secure it there. Then I grab the blue collar.
Scully, even post-orgasm, isn't being cooperative.
"Hold her still," I bark at Mulder.
"I'm trying my best," he snaps back through gritted teeth.
"No," says Scully, struggling in Mulder's arms, and this time I don't think it's just for show. "I'm not going to wear a dog collar. This isn't part of the deal."
"Fuck the deal," I say. "You drugged me last time. You took my fucking arm. You'll do what I tell you to do."
Scully opens her mouth to say something but Mulder cuts her off. "Let him put the collar on you, Scully, or we go home right now."
I'm surprised, because I expected him to take her side, but I'm not going to wait for Scully to say something to change Mulder's mind. I fasten the collar around her neck and clip the leash to it. Then I cut the tape from her wrists and pull off the remains of her blouse and bra.
Mulder releases her and stands up to get a better look. Scully's pouting a little, and it's not any more attractive on her than it was on Mulder.
"Suck it up, Pumpkin," I say. "Don't act like such a baby. I'd hate to have to spank you." Then I grin with deliberate slowness.
Scully must decide to go along with the bondage du jour because she stops fighting and arranges herself so that her white limbs are sprawled on the bed in a way that manages to appear both innocent and provocative. The look she gives me is part venom, part come-on. I see "I dare you" in her eyes.
Mulder stands behind me, his hand on my ass, squeezing absently. I can't see his face, but I can hear him snigger. It's the reaction I'd wanted, but for some reason, I want to turn and hurt him for making that small, cruel sound.
It doesn't make any sense. I'd wanted Scully to seem ridiculous, I'd wanted to humiliate her, but the effect on me is not what I'd intended. Her hair and skin contrast brightly with the blue nylon at her throat, the plastic diamonds flash, and she looks like some exotic, barely tamed beast -- a pet kept by a royal court, some feline with cool eyes that will stand still to be petted but will just as easily bite your hand off. She looks, in fact, like the Scully I sometimes see shining out of her eyes, when she thinks Mulder isn't looking. The Scully that below deep levels of decency and good breeding is a little bad, a little mean, and a little feral -- the Scully that is a little like me.
I want her. I want everything she represents: impossible dreams, carnal angels, fleeting pleasure, and sweet pain. There is also a thought, skittering across my consciousness, that I don't want to share her. I want Mulder gone, but there is no play without him. We are three, or rather they're two and I'm one, and nothing can change that. I won't wish for what I can never have. Instead, I'll take what I can, and tonight that's both or nothing.
"Are you ready to fuck her?" I ask Mulder.
"Might as well," he says. "It's not like this place has HBO."
"Can't argue with logic like that," I say, and we start taking off our clothes.
I approach the bed naked except for my unbuttoned shirt. Mulder goes to the other side of the bed, and he is completely undressed, his skin a golden contrast to hers. Mulder positions Scully on her hands and knees and enters her from behind. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut for a moment then opens them. She looks up at me, through the hair falling over her face, right into my eyes.
"I like you...better...without the shirt," she says, pausing to take a breath each time Mulder thrusts into her.
"Too bad," I say. "Come here." I bury my hand in her hair and drag her forward. Mulder follows, not losing a beat. "Suck my cock, Scully," I say.
Scully frowns but her eyes sparkle. "Make me," she says.
I tug on the leash, making the collar bite into her throat. "I'd hate to wring that pretty little neck of yours," I say.
"Cut the bullshit, Scully, and give him a blow job," says Mulder. He sounds exasperated.
"Besides," I tell her, "I know you want to."
Scully gives into the inevitable. Her hands climb my legs to my hips as she steadies herself, then her mouth closes around me, hot and wet and so small. Her tongue rasps against me and her teeth threaten to bite. She moves her mouth up and down my shaft, and beyond that, I can feel the reverberation of Mulder pumping himself inside her. I look up, wanting to see his face, but his eyes are cast down, concentrating on the small of Scully's back.
I start to come and Scully tries to pull away, but I hold her head in place. Tonight, Scully, you will swallow, fuck your squeamishness. I feel her hesitate, then her throat contracts. At this point, I don't really care. The feeling of my dick in her mouth as I come is too exquisite. Scully can be a trooper when she wants to be. She swallows, involuntarily or not, and even gives me a few last flicks of her tongue as I pull out.
I drop down to my knees beside the bed so that Scully and I are now nose to nose. "Jesus, Scully. That was fucking amazing. I should keep you chained in my basement so I can fuck you on a regular basis." Scully's brows lower and she looks both annoyed and affronted, as if I've farted in church or something. It was meant to be a joke, and even though I wouldn't be surprised if Scully had had her sense of humor surgically removed, her reaction seems a bit much here. I wonder if she actually thinks I might do it. I wonder if she's offended because part of her would like me to do it. Who knows? But I feel compelled to add, "Too bad I don't have a basement."
Scully smiles a little at that, like she's finally gotten the joke. For the most part, she seems to be concentrating on what Mulder's doing to her. I take advantage of her distracted state to kiss her. My tongue caresses hers and I taste myself inside her mouth, but below that I taste Scully. I reach up, while still kissing her, and cup one breast. It quivers in my hand with each of Mulder's thrusts. He's slowed down to an excruciatingly controlled pace by this point, making Scully moan into my mouth.
I pull away and she articulates the sound. "Please," she says, whether to Mulder or me, I'm not sure.
"No," says Mulder, and pulls out of her completely.
Scully sags against the bed, a mournful sound coming from her lips. She looks so damn pitiful that it's almost cute. I look at Mulder and wonder what he's got in mind.
"I want you to fuck me, Scully," he says, lying on his back, arms stretched up and folded back to cradle his head.
Scully changes position and the collar catches on the skin of her throat. She reaches up and rearranges the collar with a vicious tug. She gives me an evil look that all by itself makes the money I paid for the collar and leash worthwhile. Best damn twenty bucks I ever spent.
Scully straddles Mulder and begins writhing on top of him. Again, we're back to me watching Mulder and Scully, but fuck, this time I'm not tied down and can do whatever I want. I slip onto the bed behind Scully and run my good hand up and down her body, from breast to hip, bracing myself with the other. Scully leans against me, her hands reaching back to rest on my folded knees. Using me for leverage, she pushes herself up and down on Mulder's cock. I lick my fingers then reach down to where Scully and Mulder's bodies are joined. I startle a grunt out of Scully as I stroke her, then Mulder knocks my hand away.
"No," he says. "Let her do it herself."
Scully tightens her grip on my knees and she stops moving. "Excuse me?" she says, as if she hasn't heard Mulder correctly.
Mulder looks disgusted. "You're in a bed with two men, Scully. Don't pretend to our guest here that you've never touched that precious cunt of yours."
Scully's nails start to make dents in the flesh of my knees.
"Come on, Scully. I'm waiting. Fuck me and fuck yourself. Show Alex what a good girl you can be."
What the hell is with Mulder tonight? The look he's giving Scully is ugly. It's like he wants to rip her throat out.
"Mulder?" she asks tentatively. "I don't..."
"Just do it. Isn't that what this is all about? We're dominant, you're submissive. Submit, damn you. Isn't that what you want?" There's hurt there, underneath the sudden rage. Mulder's upset as hell. He yanks hard on her leash. "Otherwise, why are we fucking here? Why is *he* here?"
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. The look on Mulder's face is usually the one he reserves for when he's about to throw a punch my way. Only this time, Scully is between us.
I find myself trying to restore the balance in the room. When did Mulder and I switch places? I'm supposed to be the bad cop. Doesn't the asshole know that?
I pry Scully's hand from my knee and place it between her legs. "Just do it," I whisper in her ear before kissing her neck. Scully goes from ramrod stiff to slightly thawed and almost pliable by small degrees. I look down in between biting her earlobe and licking her neck to see that she's started to touch herself. Then I look at Mulder, expecting to see that he's pleased she's doing what he wanted, but instead all I see is anger. His eyes are black, and in them I can see a tiny colored dot that is Scully, with me behind her. It's like we've been drowned at the bottom of a cold well.
"Fuck you, Scully," Mulder says, his words bringing down the temperature of the room. "You'll do it for him, but not for me. Fuck you both."
I don't want to deal with this, and I start to rise, but Mulder grabs my arm.
"Stay the fuck where you are, you bastard," he says. "You're part of this, too."
"I can't do this," says Scully. She starts struggling with the catch on the leash.
Mulder's hand reaches up and grabs her wrists. "No, no, no," he says, shaking her with each word. I hear Scully's teeth clink together.
"Stop it," she cries, her voice thick with emotion she's holding onto tightly. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"That's a good question, Scully," Mulder's says. "I could ask you the same damn thing."
I get up from behind Scully and neither she nor Mulder notices. The air between them is crackling. I keep my eyes on them as I start putting on my briefs and jeans, then begin buttoning my shirt.
I look down for just a second to zip up my jeans when the crack of a slap rings out in the small room. I look up to see Mulder holding Scully's hand. One of his cheeks is stained bright red. Both look ready to kill the other. Oh merciful fucking Jesus. Why me? I should have known something like this was going to happen eventually.
"Wasn't I man enough for you, Scully," Mulder hisses, "or are you just so much of a slut that one man isn't sufficient?"
Scully wriggles in Mulder's grasp. "I didn't hear you complain when he sucked your dick. You *begged* him to fuck you. Begged."
"At least he gives better head than you do."
Okay. That's it. I don't want to hear a minute more. I slip my shoes on, not sure where my socks are but not caring enough to look for them. I don't think either one is paying me any attention as I slip out of the motel room. It may look like they're fighting about me, but there's too much going on in this room that doesn't have one thing to do with me.
Once safely outside, my hand goes to my back pocket and I realize with a sick thud that my wallet and keys are not there. They must have fallen out of my pocket when I was undressing. Fuck, fuck, *fuck*.
My options are not good. I have no car, no keys to my apartment, not even the keys to Scully's car, and no money. There is no way in hell that I'm knocking on that motel room door. I'll just have to wait and see who emerges first. If I'm lucky, whoever it is will let me get my foot in the door so I can get my shit and get the hell out of this nightmare. God. How did I let myself get into this situation?
I was thinking with my dick. I've got to stop thinking with my dick.
There's a plastic chair sitting beside the door of each motel room. I wonder why the chairs haven't been stolen until I see that each has been bolted to the concrete. I sit down, grateful that at least it's late summer and I'm not freezing my ass off. I look up at the moon. It's red, which I'm not sure I've ever seen before, and I can't help but think that it looks full of blood.
Inside the room I hear Mulder and Scully's voices rise and fall, though I can't quite make out the words. I do my best to ignore them. Especially when I hear something that might be my name.
It's Scully who nearly trips over my legs when she comes charging out of the motel room. I seem to have left my watch in the room as well as my wallet and keys, so I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but the moon has risen in the sky and is now much smaller and not quite so bloody.
I stand up, but I'm too late. Scully has already pulled the door shut behind her.
"What're you still doing here?" she asks. She's clutching her blouse closed, her pants are zipped but not buttoned, and her feet are bare. She does, however, have the keys to her car in the fist that isn't holding her shirt together. Scully apparently has more presence of mind than I do when fleeing a scene.
On the other hand, she's still wearing the blue collar. I wonder if she realizes it.
The cut on her chest must be seeping because I see a pinkish-red stain forming on the white fabric of her blouse. That's nothing, however, to the purple bruise that's beginning to bloom by her eye.
"Fuck," I say. "Don't tell me Mulder did that to you." I feel an unexpected stab of guilt. It was me that Mulder wanted to hit, not her.
Scully snorts. "You should see him," she says. She starts to walk away.
"You shouldn't walk across that parking lot in your bare feet," I say. I'm reluctant to let her go. After she's gone, I'll have to knock on the door of the motel room and face Mulder. It's either that or walk home. If I weren't afraid of drawing back a bloody stump, I'd ask Scully for a ride, but even I'm not that suicidal. I can tell she's not in a generous mood right now.
"What do you care about my feet?" she demands, turning back around to face me. "This is mostly your fault, you know."
Scully takes a step back toward me. "It never fails to amaze me how innocent you can make yourself look. Things were perfect until you came along, complicating things. He wanted you, right from the start, and I hated it. I should have let him shoot you. I should have shot you myself."
Scully's words, which began slowly, now are coming out her mouth in rapid succession. Her face flames and again I think of fire, this time threatening to burn out of control.
"But instead I thought I could manage things," Scully continues, the plastic diamonds at her throat flashing as she tosses her head in agitation. "I thought I could exorcise you from him. Only despite every betrayal, he still wanted you. I think it made him want you more. That should have been my first clue to cut bait, but no, that would have been giving up, and heaven forbid I ever give up."
She takes another step toward me and I take a step back. I can't believe the things coming out of her mouth. It's as if the steel bands she's kept on her feelings have broken and everything is falling out. "Scully, you don't..."
"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. Because of you I've done things that I can't bring myself to confess to a priest. And more than that..." A look crosses her face and then everything closes down. Her face is a mask and the door she keeps her emotions behind has slammed shut.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," she says, and turns around.
I catch her hand. "Tell me."
Scully tries to wrench free from my grasp. "You're just as bad as him. Or maybe he's as bad as you. You deserve each other. Doesn't matter, anyway. You've ruined everything."
Now I'm angry. I can't believe she's blaming me for her domestic problems. "What did I do? What the fuck did I ever do but follow orders? Yours, his, theirs?"
"Get a fucking spine," she says, her eyes flat. I can't read anything in them.
I yank her towards me until our bodies touch. My prosthetic arm holds her in place while my good hand pulls her head back by the hair. I kiss her, my mouth punishing her for that last remark. Under mine, her mouth trembles a bit, then she's kissing me back savagely. Her hands go to my head to pull it down closer to hers. Our teeth connect, lips are bitten, tongues fight for dominance. I don't know how long it lasts because as far as I'm concerned, time has ceased to matter. I could do this forever, fuck the rest of the world.
Scully pulls away first. The flat look in her eyes is gone and it's replaced by one of regret. "You could have been the right man," she says. "It was just the wrong time and wrong place."
I swear my heart stops beating. What's she trying to say? That under other circumstances, another ending might have been possible? I won't believe it. It hurts too much to think like that. "Wrong universe," I say.
"That, too," she says. She turns around and this time I let her go. She picks her way around the glass and litter scattered over the parking lot to her car. It's not far. She doesn't bother with the change of clothes stashed in the trunk, just starts the car and speeds away. I pity any cop foolish enough to pull her over.
When her car is far enough away that I can't see it anymore, I look instead at the moon. It's high in the sky now, and nearly silver. Before it looked close enough that I could have plucked it from the sky, but now it looks impossibly far away.
I sit on a plastic chair outside of a dive motel and think about aliens and the end of the world and the possibility of ever reaching the moon. I don't think about Scully, who even now drives farther and farther away. I don't think about Mulder, who waits in the hotel room. For now, it's easier to just think about the moon.
Scully said Mulder and I deserve each other. Maybe she's right.
When I have sat long enough for my ass to fall asleep and I realize that all the thinking about the moon in the world is not getting me my wallet or car keys, I stand up and go knock on the room door.
I hear a muffled, "Go the fuck away," from inside the room and something hard hits the door.
"Open up, Mulder. I need my wallet and keys." A couple leaving one of the rooms a few doors down looks my way. Both are startled by the noise I'm making and stare at me with open curiosity. I hunch my shoulders and pound on the door again. "Let me in, damn it."
The door is wrenched open and I fall into the room. Mulder grabs me, pulling me into the room, and slams the door shut in one motion. He throws me against the door, knocking my head against it. Just my luck, it's more solid than it looks.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now," he snarls.
I kick out and connect with his kneecap. Mulder goes down, taking me with him. My left side falls against the bed and the prosthesis is knocked out of place. I can feel it hanging loosely in my shirtsleeve as I hit the floor.
I swing out with my right arm and hit something hard and bony. Mulder's jaw, maybe, but I can't be certain. We roll on the floor, feet kicking and fists flailing, until we hit something solid -- the table, I think. Mulder ends up on top. He grabs me by the shoulders and hauls me sideways, banging my head repeatedly against what I'm pretty sure must be the table. At this point, I don't really care. I just want him to fucking stop.
I try to move, but I've lost momentum and Mulder outweighs me. It's possible that he'll kill me tonight, and it'd be a shitty way to die. I can think of so many better places and so many better reasons.
Mulder pauses his assault to catch his breath. "Well," he says, panting, "tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now."
"Go ahead, Mulder. Kill me. But do it because I've betrayed you, lied to you, or because I've sold you out before and I'll do it again if I have the chance. Don't kill me over this. None of us are worth it. It was just sex."
Mulder lets go of my shirt and I'm flooded with relief. It seems I'll get to live to see another day.
"No," he says. "It was never just sex." He sits back on his haunches. "Fuck, Krycek. You look like shit. Not so pretty now, are you?"
My left eye already is swollen shut and I can feel blood trickle from the corner of my mouth. Mulder seems to be past the point of violence for the moment, so I scoot back and sit up, leaning against the end table by the side of the bed. Scully's leash hangs down. I can feel it like a lump under my right shoulder. "My arm's come loose. You mind if I put it back?"
Mulder goes from his crouching position to sitting down on the floor. He waves his hands at me. "Go ahead. Be my guest." He cradles his chin in his hand. "I think you dislocated my fucking jaw."
If I had, he wouldn't be talking so much. Besides, he may have broken my arm. If he had any idea of how much a good prosthetic costs he'd probably feel bad. Then again, maybe not. This is Mulder I'm thinking about.
I have to unbutton my shirt to reset the arm, which I'm happy to find not broken after all. While I'm fiddling with it, Mulder leans back on his hands and looks at the ceiling. I suppose it's like me looking at the moon, earlier. He's trying to think of anything but what's just happened.
"I'm too tired for this shit," he says after awhile. "I'm tired of the whole goddamned thing."
I glance up, wondering if he's going to elaborate, and get a good look at his face. "Shit," I say. "She did a number on you. That can't all be me."
Mulder's face is covered with scratches. Some of them are just pink weals and others are crusted over with blood. Only Scully's nails, which are manicure perfect, could do that kind of damage. "No GQ for you," I say with a grin. The smile hurts and I let it fall.
"Nope," Mulder says and then is silent while I finish reattaching the arm.
When I'm done, I say, "So." I don't know what else to say so I stop there.
"So," Mulder agrees.
I'd laugh but I know it would hurt. "She said we deserved each other, you and me."
Mulder does laugh, and it must hurt like hell. Scratches all over his face crack open. "That's funny," he says.
"Well, yeah, but why do you think it's funny?"
"Scully said she wanted to do this for me. She wanted me to get you out of my system. She thought that me obsessing over you wasn't healthy."
"Are you obsessed with me?" I can't help but ask.
Mulder looks away and I think he blushes, but with all the scratches on his face, it's hard to tell. "When Scully gets an idea in her head, it's nearly impossible to change her mind. She became convinced that the only way for me to stop thinking about you was for me to make the fantasy become a reality. Then I'd be cured." Mulder lets out a snort of laughter.
I do the same, even though it hurts to do so. "So are you cured?" I ask.
"You don't understand," he says. "It was never about me. Never. It was you. She wanted you, for whatever reason." Mulder stops looking at the ceiling and turns towards me. "Maybe she was right, and I wanted you, too, because I agreed to her crazy plan. I found you and brought you to Scully's apartment and you did just what she said you would. I was betting that you'd figure out what was going on and run like the wind, but you didn't. You stayed. And you kissed me. That wasn't part of the plan."
I start to laugh because this is the saddest, funniest thing I've ever heard. "Oh, God," I say. I think back to that first night, and I see in retrospect how hesitant Mulder had been. I thought it had been acting, but apparently not. And then later, when it had been Mulder's turn, I remember how Mulder had cried out when I'd fucked him, how tight he'd been. It had been his first time. It had to have been. The insanity of it sweeps over me. But then I remember how he'd kissed me. Those greedy kisses, and how his lips had clung to mine. What's real and what's not?
"You liked it," I say.
Mulder goes back to looking at the ceiling. "Yeah. I guess I did."
"So what the fuck happened tonight?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine. Whatever, man." I look at the digital clock on the bedside table and see it's past three o'clock in the morning. There is no way I'm getting a cab in this part of town at this time of night. "It's late. You mind if I crash here for the night?"
Mulder shrugs. "I've paid for a whole night. Might as well. You'll have to share it with me, though."
"There's just the one bed. Do you mind? I don't want to sleep on the floor."
"I've had your cock up my ass," he says, and looks at me. While his tone is light, his eyes are filled with pain. Not, I think, for what we did, but something else. Maybe for why we did it. "I think we can share a bed."
"Good point," I say, and kick off my shoes. Then I laugh, causing more pain.
"What?" asks Mulder.
"I just put my arm on and now I've got to take it off again."
"Doesn't life just suck," he says. It isn't a question.
Even though it's incredibly late, I can't get to sleep. I keep thinking of what was supposed to happen this night, and what the ramification will be, and whether the phrase 'Mulder and Scully' will mean tomorrow what it did this morning.
Mulder and Scully. The Wonder Twins. Almost one entity. Always a pair, with a rapport so tight I thought nothing could crack it. Yet somehow I've come between them, and I'm still not clear on how. Mulder and Scully can't agree on it, either.
I wish I knew what the hell was going on.
"You know," says Mulder into the silent room, startling me, "I didn't even get to come." He laughs and I wince at the sound.
I turn to face him. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I want you to make me not think about what happened for a while," he says. "Or can't you fuck me when Scully's not watching?"
I look into his face and can't see any expression, only dark hollows where his features should be. Things are less complicated in the dark. Pain is easier to hide.
"Oh, what the hell, Mulder. Once more for the sake of posterity."
Mulder lets out a snort of amusement then grabs my head and pulls my mouth down to his. We kiss, and when he allows me to pull back, I say, "Damn, that hurt."
"Good," he says, and kisses me again.
We fumble with clothes, pushing them aside and pulling them off as needs be. Mulder rolls on top of me and for a second I flash back to when he was trying to beat my brains out, but this time he's moving down my body, lips kissing and biting at my skin. He gets to my cock, which is aching by this point, and says, "I've never done this before."
"Huh?" I wonder what the hell he's talking about, then he takes my dick into his mouth. "Oh, Jesus."
For someone with no experience, Mulder is good at it. My hand curls into the sheet. When I come, Mulder swallows with no hesitation.
"I am a cocksucker," Mulder muses. "Where the fuck did we put the lube?" A quick search is done and the lube located. "Oh yes," he continues, pouring the liquid into his hand and then rubbing it on me. "I am a sucker of cocks. Well, one cock." He leaves the bed briefly to grab a condom.
"You don't seem too upset by it," I say, drawing in my breath as he pushes my legs up and I feel him begin to penetrate me.
"I don't know how I feel about it right now."
"You've always been a cocksucker, Mulder," I say. "Now it's just literal. Congratulations."
Mulder abandons any thought of finesse and shoves himself inside me. I think he means it to hurt, and it does, but it feels good, too. He seems to fuck me forever, and at first it's amazing, but eventually it gets to the point where I'm hoping it'll end soon.
"Mulder, damn it, just come," I say. My legs are cramped up to the point of agony and my asshole is sore. I'd like to take a shower and then finally sleep. If checkout time is noon, and I figure in time for a shower, that'll make seven, maybe eight hours of sleep. I think longingly of the luxury of it.
"I can't." It's almost a cry. Mulder pulls out of me and lies back down. "Oh, fuck me." I can't see to be sure, but I think I hear tears in his voice.
We lie, side by side, not speaking for several minutes. Then Mulder gets up and starts walking away. I should just try to sleep but my curiosity gets the better of me. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to take a piss. Then I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place. Jack off in the bathroom."
I see the bathroom light go on and then the door slams shut and the light disappears. I hear Mulder turn on the shower.
I'm so exhausted by now that sleep should come immediately, but I can't get the image of Mulder masturbating in the shower out of my mind. It's just too sad and pathetic. Not even Mulder, king of all assholes, deserves to have such a shitty night. I get up and go to the bathroom.
I'm blinded by the bright light in the small, white room, and my eyes don't want to adjust. I'm still stumbling around when I hear Mulder call out, "Just leave me the fuck alone. Is that too much to ask?"
I pull back the shower curtain and step behind Mulder. "Shut up, Mulder," I say.
"What do you want? Haven't you done enough?"
"I just want to go to sleep," I say. I run my hand over Mulder's abdomen, which is slick with soap, then curl my hand around his cock. I stroke him slowly at first, until his body starts to respond and he hardens in my hand. I bite his shoulder and my grip is firmer, the strokes faster.
"Oh, God, yeah," moans Mulder, and the sound reverberates around the room.
He braces his hands on the shower's tiled wall, his hips bucking against my hand, fucking it like he fucked first Scully, then me, earlier. This time, however, there is release. I hear his grunt of satisfaction, feel him soften in my grip, see his semen on my hand.
Mulder doesn't move when I withdraw my hand and rinse it in the shower's spray that is just now becoming tepid.
"Thank you," he says.
"Do you think you can sleep now?" I ask.
I think he wants me to leave him alone, so I step out of the shower, dry off, and feel my way through the dark room to the bed. I lie down, and before I know it, fall asleep.
I wake to the gray light of morning, disoriented, the previous night coming back to me in slow waves. Beside me, Mulder is snoring, his face turned toward the wall. I get up and go to the bathroom to take a shower.
The hot water hits me, and I'm reminded of the previous night. As I wash, I wonder if Mulder will join me as I joined him last night.
He doesn't. I turn off the water when it becomes obvious that he won't.
When I come out of the bathroom, he's fully dressed and sitting on the bed. "I can't find one of your socks," he says, gesturing to the heap of my clothing that he's gathered by him.
"I'll live," I say. I dress, grateful and oddly touched that he'd do this small service for me.
Mulder removes the leash from around the lamp. "Do you want this?" he asks.
I shake my head. "God, no."
He drops it into the wastebasket without a word.
We walk outside to a humid, overcast morning.
"I don't envy you," Mulder says as he pulls the door to the room shut.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."
We walk to our separate directions -- me to call a cab and Mulder to turn in the room key -- but Mulder turns around after taking only a few steps. "She's hard to love," he says. "I was never sure she loved me back." Then he gives me his back and walks away. I hear him say something else, but I can't quite make t out. It sounds almost like, "You'll see," but I can't be sure.
I wake to a handcuff being fastened on my wrist. I kick out with my feet and hit someone, throwing him back.
I hear a startled, "Oof." Not him. Her. Scully? I try to sit up and find that the other manacle of the handcuff is attached to the headboard of my bed.
"Scully, is that you?"
What is she doing here? It's been weeks since I saw her last. From all accounts she and Mulder are still joined at the hip, still a thorn in the side of my employers, still as sickeningly devoted to each other as they are to their quest for truth, justice, and evidence of aliens.
I thought that hellish last night the three of us spent together was only a minor blip on their radar screen, forgotten even before their wounds healed. But if that's so, then why is Scully here?
"You have many women break into your apartment and chain you to your bed?"
"You'd be surprised," I say.
Awkward as my position is, I manage to sit up. Scully is perched on the end of my bed. "I doubt it," she says. "You're the kind of man best kept on a short leash. Which reminds me. I came here to eturn something." She takes something from her pocket and tosses it at me so that it lands on my lap. It's the blue nylon collar.
"Scully," I say. "You shouldn't have."
"I was thinking that it might look good around your neck."
My heart beats faster. But there is a look to her face that is more desperation than desire. "What about Mulder?" I ask.
"His neck's too big."
"Cut the shit, Scully. You know what I mean."
She dangles the key before me from two of her fingers. "I've got you at my mercy, Krycek. You should be more careful what you say and how you say it."
I start manipulating the bones in my right hand, slipping my thumb out of its socket with a painful crunch. Then pull my hand through the manacle of the handcuff. I hold my thumb between my teeth and pull. The thumb settles back in place and I flex my hand to make sure everything is still working. It feels like a son of a bitch, but some lessons are worth the pain it takes to teach them.
I look into Scully's face to see her eyes are open wide. "I didn't know you could do that," she says.
"I would never have let you take me if I couldn't," I say. "It's not a coincidence that I'm still alive."
"Why did you agree to..." Scully makes a gesture with her hand, not able to put words to what she's thinking. "To do what we did?" she ends up saying.
"Because sleeping with the enemy is useful," I say. "And because I couldn't turn down the chance to fuck you. Or Mulder, either."
"So you're just Alex Krycek, Consortium Whore?" She looks disappointed.
I shrug. "I've been called worse things. Why are you here, Scully? Why isn't Mulder with you?"
"Mulder," She exclaims. "Is that it? He's what you wanted all along." She looks furious, but hurt, too.
"Scully, nothing's ever that simple," I say. "It's funny. You're jealous of Mulder. Mulder is jealous of me. See how fucked up things can get?"
"Who are you jealous of, Krycek?" Scully asks.
"Think about it. But first, tell me why you're here."
"I came to return the collar," she says, as if it's obvious.
"What do you want from me?" Scully stands up in her agitation.
"The truth. Tell me the fucking truth," I shout.
"Since when do you deserve the truth?" she shoots back.
"Get the fuck out of my home." I won't deal with this. I keep thinking back to what Mulder said: "She's hard to love." Truer words were never spoken, especially not by him.
"What?" I guess Scully doesn't think that I'll actually throw her out of my apartment. I get off the bed and walk toward her to show her I mean it.
"Tell me why you came here and chained me to my own goddamned bed, Scully, or get the fuck out."
She's silent for a moment, considering her options, then says, "Mulder won't touch me."
We're getting closer to the truth. "So you came here because you thought I would? Was Mulder right? Are you that much of a slut?"
"No!" She lashes out with her hand but I catch it.
"Tell me, damn it. I'm not Mulder. I'm not going to let you lead me around by the nose."
"Because...because I want you." This is probably the most I'm ever going to get out of her. Just to admit that she wants me is near torture for her. But it's not enough. Not now, somehow.
"She's hard to love," Mulder had said. I can't get that out of my head. "She's hard to love."
I herd Scully out of my bedroom and through the apartment to the front door. "You don't want me, either," she says bitterly. "I don't know why I came here. I must have been insane."
I stop, push her against the wall, and kiss her. Her arms go around me and run up and down my back before cupping my ass. My erection pushes into her stomach and she has to know that of course I want her. I pull my head back, bracing my weight on the wall behind her. "Yeah, I want you, Scully. It's just not enough."
"I don't understand," she says.
"You told me to get a spine," I tell her. "Come back when you've gotten yours."
I think I see comprehension dawn her eyes, but maybe I'm just fooling myself. I hold the door open for her and she hesitates on the threshold before stepping through. She squares her shoulders, wrapping her fallen dignity back around her. I wonder if I'll ever see her again.
I hope that I'm doing the right thing. My cock wants to drag her back into the room and pull her down to the floor with me. My heart wants to hold her and tell her everything will be okay. Only my head stands firm, remembering Mulder's advice. "She's hard to love. You'll see."
I do. I see that now.
"Good-bye, Scully," I say, and then I close the door behind her.
Tell me what you think of madness at firstname.lastname@example.org
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