O Cursed Spite

Date Finished: May 19, 2001
Title: O Cursed Spite
Author: L.C. Sulla
Keywords: MSR, K/Sc, M/K, non-con, angrysmut
Rating: NC-17 for (extremely) graphic sexual imagery, het
*and* slash.

Summary: Mulder struggles with his doubts, and Krycek comes
back for a visit.

******************************************************


Mulder could see only the back of the man at first, a
dark-haired man who was hovering over his beautiful partner, securing her
arms to the rails of the cot with handcuffs. He himself was unable to move,
to do anything to prevent it, or to do what he wanted even more, which was
to join in.

He watched helplessly as the man pulled open her blouse,
unclipping her bra, and exposing her breasts. A fresh surge of desire
rushed straight to Mulder's groin. He had a nagging feeling that he should
be upset, that he should be outraged. And he *was* outraged, not because of
what was happening in front of him, but only because he was unable to
participate. He had to admit that the lack of his omnipresent feeling of
guilt was refreshing.

He did his best to stroke his straining erection through his
jeans with the back of his hand, but the handcuffs pinning him to the pole
did not allow much movement. The man before him bent his head to Scully's
nipple, and suckled softly, soon moving to do the same to the other. Mulder
was only dimly aware of his own hoarse breathing, and his grunts of arousal
sounded muffled, almost as if they were from within his own head.

When the man stripped off Scully's slacks, spread her legs, and
dipped down to lap at her wet, pink folds, Mulder felt as if his head was
going to explode. Waves of sensation rippled rapidly over his skin,
seducing his mind into a state of inertia. He desperately wanted to be the
one who was on his knees between her legs, tonguing her clit, making her
writhe the way the black-haired man was. He bucked against his restraints,
but relented when there was no form of release, except the one building in
his cock.

He came at about mach three when Scully made eye contact with
him as she experienced her own climax. He nearly convulsed with the ecstasy
as jets of semen shot out of him, making his shorts sticky and
uncomfortable. But his desire was unabated. He continued to thrust against
his hands as the black-haired man rose above his partner once again to unzip
his jeans. All Mulder could focus on was the flush in the woman's cheeks,
and the shininess of her thighs, slicked with her juices. He growled, his
cock throbbing.

He watched the man settle between Scully's legs again, watched
as he bent her legs up and back so that her knees were by her head,
effectively bending her in half. Mulder gasped as the man mounted his
partner. It was agony. It was ecstasy. He slid to his knees, and ground
his teeth in frustration.

Mulder wanted nothing more than to be the one experiencing that
tight, wet cunt; he had been waiting for years for the chance, for a signal
that she would accept him into her body and heart as well as her life.
Rubbing hard against his erection, thrusting desperately against his hands
and yearning for release of two different kinds, he drank in the sight of
the man pounding relentlessly into the body of his whimpering, moaning
partner. Finally the man grunted loudly, which was followed by a hoarse
shout, and then he collapsed momentarily onto Scully's prone body.

And that was when it happened.

Mulder was on the brink of orgasm, just seconds behind the
lovers on the cot, when he saw the black-haired man raise his head and turn
his face towards him.

"Oh my God!" Mulder cried, his voice reverberating in his own
head.

The speeding bullet of his orgasm, unwilling, unable to stop for
any reason, hit then, more forcefully than before, releasing a veritable
flood of cum to join the rest in his jeans. He couldn't believe it. He
couldn't believe it. He couldn't. Couldn't.

The man on the cot, the man still whose penis was still deeply
embedded in Dana Scully's pussy, was a smirking Alex Krycek.


******************************************************


"NO!"

Mulder jerked awake, drenched in sweat. He was tangled up
tightly in the blanket on his couch, his boxers were sticky with his semen,
and his mind was whirling. As reality slowly took hold, his breathing
slowed to a more normal rate. After untangling himself, he swung his legs
to the floor, and put his hands to his face, trying to rub some sense and
clarity into his brain.

He didn't know what to think. This was the third time he had
experienced the exact same dream in the two days since the occurrences in
the warehouse. But it confused him, because it hadn't happened that way.
At least, not from what Scully told him. He didn't know for sure, as he had
no recollection of the events prior to his waking up. All he remembered
from last Friday was going out to a warehouse with Scully and that fucker,
Krycek, having been drawn there with the promise of sensitive information
relating to one of their X-Files. Next thing he knew, he was collapsed atop
a naked Scully, having just climaxed from what appeared to be a rather
vigorous episode of anal sex. He had no clue what happened during the time
between.

All Scully would tell him was that she loved him, and she had
wanted the sex, he hadn't forced her or any such thing. He tried to probe
deeper (what a pun) into how exactly it all came to pass, and why the hell
he couldn't remember any of it, but she was evasive, saying only that things
had just escalated pleasantly between the two of them when Krycek left them
at the warehouse. She did say that she thought there might have been a
chance that he had been exposed to some kind of toxin that caused him to
black out, and that may be why he couldn't remember anything. It all seemed
a just little too vague for Mulder to just blindly accept, but she was far
from forthcoming with further details.

He had mixed feelings. He was ecstatic that a physical
relationship finally seemed to be developing between he and his partner, and
her declaration of love made his heart sing. But he was simply too
emotionally dark to let sleeping dogs lie on a matter such as this. He had
a feeling of vague trepidation regarding this loss of time. He thought that
for sure Scully was hiding something from him, and that angered and hurt
him. She was supposed to trust him. Trust was the basis of their
relationship, and he hated to think that she would undermine that trust, but
his instincts would not let the issue lie. And being an investigator by
occupation, and having had repeated brushes with death in which his
instincts had saved his very life, he was always loathe to ignore them.

He pulled his hands from his face, sighing deeply, wishing that
he could have woken up in her arms this morning. But Scully had asked for
some space the night before, and after they had copulated repeatedly by
candlelight, he had left her to her thoughts. And by default, he had been
left in the grip of his own.

The first dream had come that first night after the time at the
warehouse. He had woken in a sweat, screaming curse words, and Scully had
needed to soothe him back to sleep, treating him to the best blowjob he
thought he'd ever had. As her hot, moist mouth slipped over his cock and
she took him deep into her throat, he struggled vehemently against the
intruding images of Krycek draped on her body, pounding her savagely, making
her come. As he relaxed finally into the sensations, he was able to shove
the dream aside. He assumed it was just his psyche vocalizing all his
hidden fears and feelings of inadequacy, and he treated it as such. He
forgot it.

But now came last night and this morning, two copies of the
exact same dream in one night. The first time the dream reappeared, shortly
after he went to bed, he had shivered violently for a full half-hour before
he could calm down and go back to sleep. And now it had come again this
morning, and he was beginning to fear that this wasn't just a dream, but a
flashback. It seemed to be getting more and more realistic each time he
experienced it, and it had started to feel like it had some basis in
reality. Was he loosing his mind? He didn't know. But he was becoming
suspicious, not so much of the state of his mental health, but of Scully's
version of the events that occurred at that warehouse. He was beginning to
fear that she had lied to him, or at least kept the truth from him, and the
thing that frightened him the most was not that she lied, although that in
itself was exceedingly disturbing, but the possible reasons for that
deception.

If what Mulder was dreaming had actually occurred in reality,
why would she hide it from him? If Krycek had raped her, why didn't she
confide in him? Something else in the dream disturbed him as well. Scully
appeared to almost be enjoying the experience with Krycek. If his dream was
fully accurate, she had climaxed repeatedly as the fucking lying, murdering
bastard worked her, and had actually moaned and whimpered in obvious lust as
he slammed into her, emptying his filthy, traitorous semen into her
beautiful body. These images from the dreams infuriated Mulder.

He conceded to himself that if Krycek truly had raped Scully,
she would probably not want to talk about it even to him, and that could be
why she was keeping it from him. Victims of rape wanted to forget, to push
the experience so far back from their minds that to them it had never
happened. But Scully was a federal officer, and a doctor, and he found it
hard to believe that she would engage in this kind of self-repression. She
knew what to do in a case of rape, and he knew she believed that it should
always be reported.

So, although he had to acknowledge to himself that Scully could
possibly just be repressing the whole incident, he couldn't even just leave
it at that. As horrible as it was, he would almost (but not quite) prefer
that this was the case, that she had been assaulted, and just couldn't talk
about it and make it real. At least then he could try to help her get
through it, in any way he could. The thing is, the alternative seemed much
worse to his self-absorbed ego. He hated himself for it, the fact that it
was possible for him to think in such a way. But all he *could* think
about, what circled graphically in his mind over and over and over, were the
images of Scully writhing in apparent pleasure beneath his worst enemy.

He realized, knew as a psychologist better than anyone else, that if a human
body was worked the right way and given enough attention, it would almost
always attain orgasm. So, conceivably, even though it was *very* rare, a
woman could have been forced into an act, yet touched by the man in the
right way and made to climax, even if it was not her choice to do so. This
was obviously only theoretically possible if the rape was done with no real
violence, causing of pain, or evident malice. The thing was, the vast
majority of rapes are executed *purely* out of hatred and violence. But
Mulder didn't know what drove Krycek. He certainly remembered the other man
paying a lot of attention to Scully's body, and unlike the typical rapist,
he seemed to be pleasant and gentle with her. Except, of course, when he
was actually fucking her. Then he looked like he was trying to jackhammer
her body straight through that cot, directly into the cement.

As much as the idea of Scully coming from Krycek's ministrations disturbed
him, and it disturbed him a lot, Mulder thought he could handle that.
Eventually. His biggest fear was *not* that she had been coerced into
physically enjoying the sex, but that maybe she had wanted it in the first
place, and that, God help him, she had slept with the rat-bastard before.
That maybe it really wasn't a rape at all!

Had Mulder suspected a clandestine physical relationship between the two
before he had fallen in love with her, the fact that she was sleeping with
the enemy would have been his biggest concern. But now the horror at the
idea drove much deeper. He loved Scully with all his heart; he hated Alex
Krycek to an equal extent. The thought of her *purposely* fucking that
murderous piece of shit was unbearable. His already healthy sense of
jealousy soared, and while he knew he could never hate her, even for this,
his fury knew no bounds. Could she have done this? Was it possible, and if
so, was it still going on? Was it still *going* to go on, even after she
had finally started things with Mulder? This fear seemed to overshadow any
reason in his brain. The more likely possibilities, such as that she was
repressing the incident, or that she was just ashamed that she had come by
the hand of someone who forced her, simply disappeared, only to lurk
forgotten in the shadows behind his rage and despair.

God, could it possibly be that Scully hadn't been forced at all, but that
she had *chosen* to fuck Krycek? He *had* handcuffed her to the cot, but
who really knew? Maybe that was the way they liked it! He did have those
vague memories of the other man endeavoring to pleasure Scully, but he didn'
t remember any of the conversation, or the events that led to her being
chained to the bed. What if she had wanted it? Oh God!

The thought was more than he could take. Intense jealously pounded with
hurricane force through Mulder's skull, blotting out any coherent thought.
Gritting his teeth in blind rage, his arm shot out violently, wiping his
coffee table clean and scattering files, videocassettes, and old Chinese
take-out boxes across the room.

"FUCK!" he roared, jumping to his feet and upending the table
itself now, sending it crashing across the room. He strode purposefully
towards his closet, yanked on a pair of black jeans and a turtleneck, and
grabbed his leather jacket. He slammed the door shut, pleased when it
closed with a reverberating crack of the wood meeting the doorjamb, and bent
to put on his boots. He then stood still for a moment, trying to clear his
thoughts. But all he could see, all he could hear, the only thing that
existed, was the picture of Krycek, clothes still on, his pants let down
only down to his mid-thigh, straining and pumping and thrusting his cock
hard into a fully naked Scully; and she beneath him, her face flushed and
beautiful, shuddering in the throes of a powerful orgasm. Mulder kicked the
wall next to his closet door, putting a hole the shape of the toe of his
boot into the plaster.

He had to go. He had to see her. He had to know the truth. He
simply couldn't live not knowing. Checking his jacket for his ID and
wallet, he left his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him as he left.

******************************************************

Scully had just come out of the shower when she heard the knock
at her door. She had allowed herself to sleep in this morning, but she had
still awoken wishing Mulder was there beside her. But she had needed some
room to think last night, and besides, he had needed to go home to change
and feed the fish.

She was still fighting with herself over whether or not to
enlighten Mulder about the events that occurred at that warehouse that she
had not informed him of yet. Could she tell him? *Should* she tell him?

She told herself that she was mostly afraid of what it would do to Mulder to
know that he had been right there and hadn't been able to stop the rape.
She feared that he would go off the handle, and she worried about his state
of mind. And while these were valid concerns, and they did worry her, she
had finally admitted to herself last night that her other big fear, and
maybe the biggest, was that he would know somehow, would possibly remember
the way she had behaved during the assault.

Scully was absolutely mortified with herself. She couldn't
believe how her body had responded to Krycek's attentions. She had actually
climaxed, and twice at that! She blushed in embarrassment as she
remembered. She had *not* wanted it, she had been forced physically into
it, but Krycek had manipulated her body so well... And it had been so damn
long! So very, very long since she had a man's hand on her body in that
way. But she had not wanted it! No matter how much her body had enjoyed
it, she was embarrassed and horrified, and did not look back on the episode
in a favorable light, even if it had been the catalyst for she and Mulder's
new relationship.

There had been no way that she could think of to tell him that
night. She knew she had to think first, and weigh the options. She
originally thought that she would just tell him right away, as soon as he
had asked to know why he remembered so little of something so important to
him. But when the first appropriate moment to tell him emerged, her voice
had stuck in her throat like a glob of phlegm, and each time after, whenever
she tried to screw up the courage to tell him, that glob reappeared and
asserted that it was there to stay.

Without even asking, she knew it was Mulder who was at her door.
As she threw a towel around her body to cover herself, her mind raced,
trying in a futile fashion to come up with a final, definitive answer to her
dilemma. But when she reached her front door and looked out the peephole,
she still was undecided.

All she could see of Mulder was the top of his head, hair
golden-brown and reflecting healthily under the stark hallway lighting. He
appeared to be standing with his eyes downcast, and his shoulders looked
somewhat slumped. She turned the lock to open the door, feeling an intense
mixture of excitement to see her new lover, and dread and indecision at the
thought of her secret.

As soon as she had the door unlocked and began to pull it open,
Mulder pushed against it, not abruptly or violently exactly, but with a
strong, determined pressure. He pushed past her, not meeting her eyes. His
face was set in a blank, impervious mask, very different from the open,
smiling face she had been pleasantly surprised to experience in the last two
days, ever since their relationship had turned sexual.

"Mulder," she started, "what's..."

He turned around then to face her, and Scully's voice died in
her throat when she saw the way he was now looking at her. She had never
seen such an expression on his face before; the blank look had disappeared
and anger, fear, sadness, dread, and maybe even a touch of obsession all
graced the plains of his slightly irregular but beautiful features. She
waited for him to say something, but when it became clear that he was simply
going to stand there and stare at her in that disconcerting fashion, she
tried speaking again.

"What's wrong, Mulder? What happened?"

Scully was shocked to see his upper lip lift minutely into the
suggestion of a sneer.

"I don't know, Scully, why don't you tell me?" he replied, his
voice angry and biting.

She felt instant anger build within her, and she looked at the
floor to try to calm herself. Why was he being so rude to her? All her
thoughts of what to tell him about that day in the warehouse fled out of her
head at hearing the tone of his voice. All she knew was that she had hardly
slept last night, and now this man, her friend, partner, and lover, the one
she trusted most in the world, was trying to play mind games with her.

When Scully looked up again to meet her partner's eyes, she
found that his were, instead of on her face, plastered somewhere below her
neckline. She felt an involuntary flush of heat as she saw, no, *felt*
Mulder's eyes sweep down her body, wrapped scantily in its towel. While
anger was still the predominate emotion showing on his face, she saw that
now a look of ragged arousal was steadily climbing in strength. She closed
her eyes for a moment, attempting to clear mind so she could think clearly.
His presence seemed to burn through her eyelids.

She knew that something was on his mind, something big, and
while she knew it should be clear what the problem was, her anger and recent
sleep deficit was obstructing her from thinking clearly and evaluating the
situation as well as she usually would have. She had to go back to solitude
for a moment to straighten out in her head what she was going to say, in any
given event.

She sighed heavily, and avoiding the question he had asked, she turned back
towards her bedroom.

"I'm going to go change," she said quietly.

With that she turned on her heel and left the room. But on her
way back to the bedroom, she tripped over her own feet, and in reaching out
with one hand to steady herself, she knocked a book that had been left
perched precariously on the edge of her desk to the floor. Not thinking
clearly, in fact, thinking only of getting back to the relative sanctuary of
the bedroom, she bent over to pick it up. She was straightening to put the
book back more steadily in its place when, from much closer than before, she
heard him.

He growled.

Instantly she recognized with a flush of embarrassment what she
had done. She was wearing only a small pink towel, and having bent over at
the waist to pick up the book, she had inadvertently exposed herself to him.
she thought, chiding herself, whenever you get the opportunity>.

Straightening up, she paused indecisively, trying to decide what
to do. Should she just pretend it didn't happen? That really was the only
thing to do; she wouldn't want to appear flustered in front of him, not now.
She was too angry. And hell, that's what they always did anyway; deny
everything, right? So without looking back, Scully continued her way to the
bedroom.

As she reached the door, she realized that Mulder was at her heels, but by
then it was too late. She started to pause, to turn to--what? Confront
him? Tell him to back off, and wait until she came back out, or maybe to
kick him out of her apartment? Scully wasn't quite sure what she had
started to do. But before she had the chance to come to a decision, she
felt his hand at the small of her back, urging her forward over the
threshold of the bedroom. The pressure of that hand was solid and
insistent, and it seemed to imply that he would accept no resistance.

Mulder's hand disappeared from her back, and she wondered what he was up to
until she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. She could hear his
breathing as well--deep, steady breaths--and a bolt of sensual electricity
slid smoothly up her spine as she focused on the sensation of her hair being
disturbed by the closeness of his mouth.

She didn't turn to face him. She was too confused, feeling a rush of
conflicting emotions. She felt the remnants of righteous anger, mixed with
lust, love, and a good helping of simple confusion. If he had just let her
go to her room alone, she could have figured out what she was feeling in a
few moments. She would have her head straight, and be able to evaluate what
he had implied. She had a strong feeling that something important could
happen here, but her sleep-deprived mind would not allow the thought to
form. She needed time to think.

"Mulder, I need some time..." she started, keeping her back to him, fearing
whatever was contained in those powerful, enticing eyes.

"Shh,"

Scully started to turn in surprise at the sound. It wasn't like him to
discount what she needed and what she had to say so quickly. But his hands
snapped up to the sides of her upper arms, holding her immobile with a firm
but not bruising grip. His breathing was louder now, his head seemed to be
hovering somewhere over her left shoulder.

His fingers flexed on her biceps once, then twice, and then with a
suddenness that left her breathless, he pulled her backwards with a jerk
until she was flush with his lean, solid body. She gasped, searching for
equilibrium, achingly aware of the hard, thick length pressing through his
clothes and her towel into her lower back.

Internally she battled with the idea of resistance, not so much against him,
but against the relenting of her anger. She wasn't even sure exactly what
she was angry about at this point, but she was stubborn, and proudly aware
of it. It felt like defeat to relent. But when Mulder thrust hard against
her, grinding lasciviously in the act, she felt her defenses drop, and she
inwardly shrugged her shoulders at the small corner of her mind that still
wanted to resist. Whatever was between them could wait. She let her hands
move behind her, to clasp each side of his hips, and she pulled him tight
against her.

Scully heard him groan softly, close to her ear, and watched as his right
hand, large and masculine with dark hair and cords of vein readily apparent
under his skin, rose to her chest. He searched for and then found the place
where the towel was secured to keep it around her small form, then undid the
fold, letting the fabric fall away from her body. He broke contact with her
back for a moment to allow it to drop away completely, and then she felt him
fumbling at his own clothes with one hand behind her. His left hand never
broke contact with her upper arm; as if he was afraid that if he didn't hold
her still she would 'come to her senses' and turn him away unsatisfied.

With a deep sigh the movement behind her ceased, and, Mulder returned his
hand to her bicep, and stepped up against her body again. This time, when
his body met hers, she felt the silken heat and rigid, uncompromising
hardness of his bare erection pressing into her lower back, and the sleepy
weight of his testicles resting against her ass. Just slightly below, the
buckle of his dropped jeans was still in attendance, pressing into her upper
thigh. Grunting in an almost animalistic fashion, he again ground himself
against her, and she was aware of his pre-ejaculate smearing across her back
as the cool air found it, giving her a delicious chill.

Scully tried again to turn to face Mulder, but he was having
none of it. He held her still for a moment and then guided her gently over
to the bed. She felt his hand between her shoulder blades, exerting light
pressure, and she bent over the bed obediently, coming to rest her torso on
the soft down-filled comforter. Her heart raced and her breathing
increased; she could feel air rushing wildly though her respiratory system.

From behind her came the sounds of Mulder quickly disrobing, his
jeans hitting the hardwood floor with a >thwack<, and his leather jacket
sliding to rest beside them. She distinctly heard several coins fall from
the pocket of one of the garments as they were thrown, breaking the thick
silence as they clattered to the floor and rolled to a rest. The furnace
kicked in. The refrigerator hummed. Someone in the apartment above was
vacuuming. 'Hmm,' she though absently, 'vacuuming at this time in the
morning?'

Her thoughts were interrupted by the dizzying sensation of his
tongue gliding down the ridge of her spine, from the nape of her neck to the
top of the crease of her ass. There he dawdled, gently lapping and
inquisitively tonguing that sweet spot, until quite suddenly he pulled away
again. He grabbed her hips, pulling her back slightly, so that almost her
entire pelvis was off the edge of the mattress.

Mulder bent over her again, retracing his earlier route down her
spine, but now gently nipping at it in various places on his way, growling
menacingly as he went. Scully felt a chill of something akin to fear as her
brain registered the nuances of the sound. But she pushed the feeling away,
focusing instead on the flood of euphoric sensation that her partner was
provoking in her body.

This time, instead of stopping his path at the base of her spine, he
crouched down behind her and, after biting rather sharply at her right
buttock, his hands came up and pushed her thighs apart roughly. She felt
the presence of his large hands near her cunt, and braced for contact. But
it didn't come; instead he gripped her hips once again, and put pressure on
them so as to imply that he wanted her to tip her pelvis back, thereby
raising her ass further into the air.

Within an instant that previously expected contact was fully realized as
Mulder's thumbs came up, separating her lips, exposing the smoky pink folds
within. She shuddered as she heard him breathe deep, inhaling her scent,
and then release that breath, sending hot air dancing over her moist skin.

Having braced herself, Scully jumped not in surprise but rather in eager
acceptance when she felt Mulder's insistent tongue probing at her vaginal
opening. He dipped two or three times into her before retreating, and after
adjusting his thumbs to spread her lips further apart, he slipped his tongue
further forward and flicked lightly at her clit.

Every part of Scully's body was alive with tension, her muscles shaking with
anticipation, her fingers opening and closing repeatedly on her palms. She
groaned, a deep, throaty sound, as Mulder swept by her clit again. This
time as his mouth retreated, he shifted his hands so that now only one of
them focused on holding her open and exposed with a thumb and index finger,
and the other was now freed up for other uses.

He sank one finger of the free hand into her dripping core, and Scully
gasped, her body bucking involuntarily at the invasion. He quickly slid a
second finger into her, and began to pump her energetically, his hand
grinding up against her folds in the process. She gasped in disappointment
when he retrieved his fingers from within her, but he quickly soothed her
with another quick flick at her clitoris with his tongue.

When Scully felt an absence of contact from him beyond his exposure of her
inner folds, she waited several moments, and then began to wonder what was
going on. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder at Mulder, and when
what she saw registered with her, she looked again for a better appraisal.

He was kneeling behind her, eyes focused squarely between her legs. It was
the look on his face that was so intriguing, and more than a little
arousing. He looked like he was studying her folds intently, trying to get
a better look at that particular part of her body, as if to commit its
planes and textures to memory. As Scully watched her partner study her, and
her neck began to hurt from the strain of craning to see him, she found
herself wishing that she could be outside her body, and see what he was
seeing. If only she could get inside his mind, and know what he was
thinking.

As her thoughts were registering, she had failed to notice that his
expression had changed. When she finally took it in, she had only a moment
to catch the emotion that was etched there before he slipped back behind his
internal wall. She saw raw pain and confusion, sadness and doubt, and what
appeared to be more than a little anger. But then he saw her, caught her
gazing at him, and within a second his face had hardened into a set mask of
decision. He released her lips to take hold of her hips in both hands, and
gave them a rough jerk, as if to reaffirm his hold on her. Startled by his
action, she squeaked before she could stop herself. Flushing with an
embarrassment that she could not fathom, she laid her cheek down on the bed
once more, and waited to see what her partner would do next.


******************************************************


When he moved back to take a better look at Scully's body,
Mulder took in the beauty of her form for mere moments before he was once
again drenched in a wave of confusion and anger. Had Krycek done this with
her? Of course he knew what he had seen in his dream, and he was sure that
was a true memory, but how long had it been going on? *Had* it been going
on? Why was it so hard to ask her? Was she really fucking that asshole of
her own choice?

He didn't want to think so. And more and more he was getting
the feeling that she hadn't had some kind of thing going with him. But he
simply couldn't shake the idea completely, and every time he tried to push
it away, the images would come back in force. Krycek between Scully's legs,
lapping at her; the look of the conquering hero on his face as the son of a
bitch plunged his cock into her, Scully! Mulder's own fucking partner!

At this moment, he noticed that she had turned her face back to
see him, probably wondering what he was doing, just sitting there, not
moving. He met her eyes for a moment, but his brain seemed to superimpose
the image of Krycek over his visionary field, and he felt himself harden,
both in mind and in body. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back against
him, reveling in the squeak of surprise this provoked in her.

Somewhere far back in his mind, a little part of Mulder was
shocked at the level of anger that suffused his body. But he shoved all
thought aside forcibly, and focused on the succulent situation that was
playing out before him.

He sat up tall, which brought him on level with her exposed
rear, and he took his cock in one hand. Slowly he brought its dripping head
close to her, and he began to rub it against her buttocks, spreading his
pre-cum over her pale skin. He felt her shudder beneath his touch, and
heard a whimper escape her throat.

Smiling wickedly, Mulder leaned in closer, and began to run the head of his
cock along her slit, just over her opening, sometimes sliding forward enough
to hit her clit for just a moment, sometimes moving back enough to tease her
anus. She began to whimper continuously; high, sweet sounds that went
directly to his groin, making him grow impossibly hard, hard to the point of
pain.

Just when it seemed that Scully was about to spontaneously combust, he
decided to cease the one form of teasing, and take it to the next level.
Finally coming once more to a stop over her vaginal opening, he slowly, ever
so slightly, began to bear down.

Scully's breath hitched, and she released a low groan, which turned into a
sound of surprise when she realized that he had stopped.

Mulder stayed still, with only the head of his erection encased in her body,
and concentrated on not blowing his load right then and there. He wanted
this to go further, much further. He wanted to fuck his partner into the
ground. < Like Krycek did>

He shook his head slightly, pushing the unpleasant thought away. Scully had
turned back to glance at him again for a moment, obviously wondering what he
was up to, before resting her cheek in the bed once more. As the seconds
passed by, and he didn't make a move, either to enter her futher or to
withdraw, she became restless. Mulder watched in a detached fashion as she
began to try to thrust back against him, attempting to impale herself on his
rigid cock. But whenever she tried, he backed away correspondingly,
refusing to be rushed. *He* was in control of this, not her.

The agent looked down at his body, watching where the tip of his penis
disappeared into the folds and contours of his partner's labia, and felt a
rush of erotic sensation that threatened to overwhelm him. He was, after
all, a porn lover. He got his kicks visually. And the site of his
considerably over-sized cock embedded in Dana Scully's cunt was something
that he thought would surely send him over the edge.

So, once he had regained his composure enough to ensure himself that he was
not going to come instantly, he went from immediate inaction to action in a
split second. He was sure Scully had absolutely no warning when he suddenly
and savagely plunged deeply into her, shoving her inner flesh aside to make
way for his bulk. She cried out, a sound of distinct pleasure/pain, and
this, along with the sensation of her cunt squeezing, gripping him in a
pelvic handshake so tight that he couldn't breathe, caused Mulder to grind
out an ".unh!", in a barely conscious response to her cry.

He paused for a moment, to let her, and admittedly himself, calm down and
get used to the sensation. He stared at her face, with its shut eyes and
open, pouting mouth, watching her take him deep within her body, and he
almost felt he could drown in his love for this woman. But the although the
love ran long and deep, it was tempered with uncertainty and anger, and as
he gazed at her he saw once again the image of his nemesis superimposed over
her beautiful face, and he growled in his anger as well as his passion.

Mulder slowly withdrew his cock from Scully's body, almost leaving it
completely, only to pause with the crown just barely still inside her. He l
ooked down again for a moment, fixating on the glistening of her juices on
his exposed shaft. Then his hips shot forward again, driving his prick deep
into her body, and he began the age-old rhythm, pumping roughly into his
partner's prone body.

He was rapidly approaching climax when an idea came to him. He abruptly
stopped his movement, willing himself back away from the oncoming orgasm.
Scully began to whimper his name beneath him, needing her own climax,
needing him to fill her and to take her.

"Shh," he whispered to her, as he withdrew totally from her body.

Scully made a small, quiet whining sound, but was then quiet, as if she knew
that this was not the day to push him.

Mulder placed his hand on either cheek of his partner's ass, and spread
them, revealing the tiny, pink hole between them. Another rush of physical
pleasure surged within him as he imagined how tight she would be, even
tighter than in her cunt, and as he dwelled for an instant on the nature of
his plan, on how society still viewed this act as depraved, even between opposite
sexes.

He reached down, and slowly inserted his index and middle fingers into her
cunt, drawing up as much of her liquid as he could. He then spread the
fluid over and around her anus, letting one finger dip inside her, relishing
Scully's quick intake of breath as his digit stretched her tight hole. He
reached his free hand down again, and stroked her engorged clit as he
simultaneously pumped his finger into her ass, and he felt a fresh gush of
fluid ease out from behind her soft folds.

Not pausing in his attentions to her clit, he withdrew his finger from her
anus, and again dipped into her pussy. When his fingers were suitably
slick, he brought them up again, to slip the one finger into her ass, and
after pumping twice within her, he added a second.

By this point Scully was writhing beneath him, crying and mewling in the
throes of intense arousal. Mulder leaned down and latched his teeth onto
her right buttock, biting down gently. He brought his fingers out of her a
third time to catch more lubrication, and now he pressed three fingers into
his partner's asshole, causing her to cry out at the burn, the momentary
pain his invasion caused, but he never stopped his movements, never gave her
a chance to resist. She was dripping fluids from her core steadily, and he
watched as his three fingers plowed into her, pumping her unmercifully.
Watching this, he didn't think he could hold out anymore.

Mulder quickly sat up, removing both hands from their occupations to clamp
them onto her hips. He positioned himself before her cunt, and thrust into
her once, then twice, being sure to coat himself well with her natural
lubricant. Then, as fast as he had come, he was out of her again, and he
shifted, taking hold of his cock to place it in it's new position at her
back entrance.

He glanced at Scully's face for a moment, and grinned as he saw
her muttering to herself, with an intense, concentrated look on her face.
He leaned slightly over her, trying to catch what she was saying. At first
he couldn't quite catch it, but he persevered, leaned even closer, and he
finally heard it.

"Fuck me fuck me fuck me yeah.Mulder.fuck me Mulder, unh."

This last sound came as Mulder drilled into her, all at once,
burying himself to the hilt in his partner's rectum in one swift, smooth
movement. He thought absently that it had been a good thing he had
stretched her.

Mulder had to stop there, cock fully entrenched within Scully's body. He
panted, breathing hard, overwhelmed by the messages his nerve endings were
sending to his brain. God, she was tight! He had a dim recollection of
being in the same place in her body at some prior point; he knew he had
taken her in the ass before, as when he had awoken from the drugged stupor
that Krycek had apparently induced in him, he had found himself still on top
of Scully, cock fully embedded in her rear end. But the recollection was
muddled, and he drove the errant memory away as he began to slowly withdraw,
only to ram roughly back into her.

Slowly he moved into a smooth, solid rhythm, neither too slow nor too fast,
and he dipped his hand down between the woman's legs, finding her clit. He
stroked several times, then inserted two fingers into her cunt and pumped
them into her in time with the thrusting of his hips.

Scully had began to cry out, "Oh.oh.oh.", each "oh" punctuating further the
slapping of their skin coming together, as his groin hit her buttocks, as
his balls slammed against her pussy. Mulder brought his hand forward again,
beginning to stroke her clit in earnest, sensing she was close.

With a cry of her partner's name that ripped asunder the thick, sex-laden
air that filled the bedroom, Scully shot into the throes of her orgasm at what seemed
like the speed of sound, crashing bodily into intense pleasure. And still
Mulder hammered into her tight little ass, bent over her back, sweating and
straining as he pounded her. He was inexorably gripped by the ecstasy her
clenching muscles provoked in him--

Mulder felt completion gaining on him, and he reached out for it, grunting
his pleasure in tandem with his rhythmic thrusts as the climax built within
him. Finally, when he could hold back no longer, he exploded into her ass,
letting loose an animalistic roar that tapered slowly into a guttural growl,
and jets of semen pumped from his cock, threatening to fill her channel to
overflowing.

Mulder allowed himself to collapse onto Scully's back for only an instant
before he moved to slide out of her. But he stopped short, frozen in space
as a voice spoke out from behind him. *Behind* him. A male voice. He
could feel Scully tense beneath him, and his cock was squeezed anew as all
her muscles, inside and out, contracted in surprise at the intrusion of this
voice. Mulder's head swam.

For what had been said was, "Oh, now *this* has been a treat. Quite a show.
I would applaud, but well, you know. One hand's gotta hold the gun, and if
you only *have* one hand."

Mulder slowly swiveled his head around to lay eyes on what he had only this
morning been seeing in his nightmares. That smirking face of Alex Krycek,
and a gun trained directly at his own head.


******************************************************


Krycek had been watching.

When he had so abruptly left the warehouse that day last week,
abandoning Agent Scully to the (tender?) mercies of a doped up and thereby
seriously erotically inflamed Agent Mulder, he had somewhere he had to be,
and sorely missed being able to stay to watch the fun and games that were
sure to ensue between the two rigidly platonic friends. As he had performed
his duties that day, making the Syndicate's messes and cleaning them up to
leave no forensic evidence of his work, he had dwelled, in spite of his
earlier go at Scully, on the fun that he was missing. That day he decided
he didn't want to call it quits after only the one time as he had originally
planned. He wanted more. And he wanted to watch.

If only he had had the time to set up the surveillance he would have liked
to! Then he would have at least had a recording of the agent's induced
tryst. And he definitely would have loved to have a tape of himself fucking
Scully into next year. But, he admitted to himself, being 'forced' to go
see them again to watch them together could have its advantages. And that
was when he drew up the hasty plan.

He arrived at Mulder's apartment early on this morning, and had
been pleased to see Mulder streaking out of the front door to his
Bureau-sanctioned vehicle (a Taurus, of course, thought Krycek, with a brief
roll of his eyes) within the hour. The look on the agent's face fairly
screamed an apparent 'don't-fuck-with-me' attitude, and Krycek had to wonder
where he was going in such a mood. He had hoped he would go straight to his
partner's apartment when he departed his home, but the outlook didn't look
too good with him being in the state of mind he was apparently in.

But Mulder never had failed to surprise, and so today he was in
true form, driving directly to Scully's place in what must have been record
time. Krycek pulled over half a block away, and watched as the agent left
his car to stride purposefully up the front steps of the tenement to
disappear through the door.

Krycek prepared to settle down for a long wait. If Mulder was
there simply to go over a case file or some such thing, it could be a long
and cramped day in the car. Who knew when such repressed people would give
into temptation and climb into bed, even if they had done so already several
times previously. For the problem was that he couldn't dare to get near the
apartment until they were suitably immersed in something that required total
attention. And he knew exactly what something he was hoping for.

He soon realized that his trademark good luck was still with him
when after a few terse, confrontational words between them, the two agents
ceased all discussion and moved into the bedroom. This he could see with
the infrared scanner. So he watched in amused amazement at their
expedience, as Mulder appeared to press himself behind Scully, and proceeded
to bend her over the bed and position himself behind her,

he thought, and he shifted within the
car to put away the gadgets. Taking a brief look around the environment
about his car, he exited the vehicle and walked casually to the door of the
building and entered.

He found her apartment easily, having been there so many times
before. he thought with a suppressed snicker.

He picked the lock on the door with practiced silence, and
waited for a moment to listen for signs of activity before entering.
Hearing nothing but the odd grunt from far across the apartment, he eased
his way into Scully's home. Glancing around, he took in the tasteful order
of her accommodations, seeing no noticeable changes from when he was last
there some weeks ago. He drifted on noiseless feet to find a spot to watch.
The door to the bedroom was ajar, leaving just enough room for him to easily
see them without much chance of his being seen himself unless they were
looking for him. And from what he could see, they definitely were not
focused on anything but themselves.

Krycek watched with a hardening cock the slow, methodical sweep
of Mulder's fingers scooping up his partner's wetness and spreading it on
her exposed anus. This he did several times, stretching her with more
fingers each time. Scully was making all sorts of delicious sounds, purring
her pleasure as the digits invaded her body, her partner pounding her with
his hand with an almost savage force.

Krycek thought he would come in his pants right then and there,
simply from the sight of it. Her little noises were bringing back vivid
flashbacks of his "time" with her, until he could feel her hot, tight cunt
gripping his dick in an iron clasp as if it had been yesterday. God, she'd
been so *tight*! After experiencing her firsthand, he knew she must not be
fucked that often. Well, Mulder was obviously fucking her now, but that was
only for the last few days, as far as he knew.

He was trying to bring himself back to some semblance of
control, willing his hand away from the straining, aching cock that was
trapped in his jeans. God, he'd better not fuck this up! He really wanted
a go at her himself, too.

Mulder now took his fingers from Scully's widely stretched hole,
and quickly confused Krycek by plunging his erection directly into her cunt
instead of the newly prepared and vacated orifice. But after a couple of
strokes he stopped, pulling out once more and leaning over his partner's
back to place his ear by her mouth. He could hear himself that Scully was
now emitting a low, gasping chant, and he wished he could be close enough to
be sure, but it sounded like she was asking the man bent over her to fuck
her.

Mulder must have decided that that was exactly what he wanted to
do, for he then abruptly slammed himself into Scully's appropriately
stretched anus. Krycek fought to direct his mind onto other, less arousing
topics in a desperate attempt to hold back the tide of his impending orgasm.
The proper method for cleaning and oiling a handgun. The blood (or not
blood) of the alien colonists. The cockroaches at the gulag in Tunguska.
Finally, the arousal began to recede to a more tolerable level, and he
focused once more on the pair in front of him.

Just in time, too. Scully was speeding full-throttle towards climax,
howling her way over the edge, spasming delightfully beneath a grunting and
straining Mulder. He followed her hard upon, unleashing a roar that could
wake the dead, his hips completing their last, spastic thrusts. Krycek
watched as the man collapsed momentarily onto his partner's back, and when
he saw Mulder start to rise and pull out of the woman, he decided now was
the time to introduce his presence.

He stepped forward into the room, holding his gun low, in an almost
nonchalant fashion, and when he spoke, he watched both agents freeze into
stillness. And when Mulder turned his head, ever so slowly, to see who had
so rudely intruded on his little love nest, Krycek's heart swelled at the
look of mixed confusion/hatred/embarrassment that graced his features.

At that moment, a thought suddenly entered his mind, unbidden, although he
realized quickly that it had been niggling at his consciousness for the last
few minutes. He had come here to watch the two agents enjoy what he had
done for them in getting them together, and then maybe to enjoy Scully again
for himself, with the added bonus of Mulder actually being cognizant as he
watched this time. Well, as he had observed Mulder fucking his partner up
the ass, he found that he was getting more and more turned on by Mulder
himself than he previously would have thought possible. For gay he was not.

But he had never denied himself the possibility that he was bisexual. He
rarely felt any substantial cravings for men, but he had noticed a draw to
the agent before, most notably on that day at the FBI pool, when he had
almost no choice (or so he had then told himself) other than to check out
Mulder's (rather substantial) package. He had had to retreat to the men's room
shortly thereafter, desperate to relieve the straining organ in his slacks.

Oh, but wouldn't it be wonderful, to have had them both? To
leave Scully's apartment snug in the knowledge that he had possessed both
their bodies, even if only for a short time? God, the thought of it! His
mind was already made up.

Mulder hadn't moved; he was still crouched over his partner's
naked back, head trained back toward Krycek. His eyes were expressing his
fury and intense hatred quite eloquently, Krycek thought. The man always
did have intriguing eyes. But his mind snapped back to the present without
really even having been absent as Scully shifted beneath Mulder, struggling
to peer around as well to view the intruder.

Her movement seemed to spur Mulder into action. He raised both
his hands in the air, and slowly straightened, taking his weight off his
partner's back.

"I'm just letting Scully up, okay Krycek?" He spat the name out
with a voice dripping with sarcasm, as if the word tasted exceedingly
unpleasant.

"Sure Mulder, that's fine, but don't make any move to get up. I
want you on your knees," he replied, watching greedily as the agent's
softened cock left the Scully's body. Oh yeah Mulder, he thought, you got
your piece of ass, and now I'm gonna get mine.

Relieved of the body that had been pinning her, Scully lifted
her torso off the bed and turned around, sinking to her knees on the floor
at the side of the bed, attempting to cover her nakedness with her hands as
best as she could. Krycek could see the fury raging in her eyes as well,
the furious expression exacerbated by the hard set of her mouth. He
smirked.

"Hi, Scully. Long time no see. Don't worry about covering
yourself up, it's not like I haven't seen it all before" he said sweetly.

"Cocksucker," the woman spat quietly. "You have the nerve to
come here after what you did to me? What you did to *us*? You sorry-ass
son of a bitch."

"Tsk, tsk, Scully, such a filthy mouth. If I hadn't *done*
anything to you, you wouldn't be enjoying Mulder's cock up your ass today,
would you? There's no way in hell, that after five years of inertia, the
two of you would have initiated anything without my help. And seriously,
about what I did to *you*, you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it," Krycek
said. He was grinning so hard that it was beginning to hurt. Man, he
*knew* this would be fun.

He watched as the woman blushed, the color reaching down her
neck to the tops of her breasts, visible above the shielding arms. Krycek's
gaze shifted to Mulder, and was surprised to see the agent staring hard at
his partner, a hurt look on his face, but obviously calculating. Hmm. What
did this mean?

Scully finally answered, whispering sharply. "You raped me, you
fucking moron; no matter what you did to my body, I didn't want it. I said
no. Repeatedly. I. Did. Not. Like it."

As Krycek watched, Mulder's face softened. Oho! So Mulder was
worried that Scully *had* liked it, that maybe she wanted it again, huh?
Well, he would soon give Mulder a taste of what his partner got. Then he
could see for himself.

Krycek assumed a bored expression. "Sure, Scully, whatever you
need to tell yourself to make it better. Anyway, I *had* come for you again
this time, after I so enjoyed watching the two of you fuck, but I think I'm
going to try something different this time. I've had you once; I think it's
about time Mulder and I got a little better acquainted, wouldn't you say so,
Fox?"

"Fuck off, Krycek. There's no way in hell you're gonna touch
me, you fucking rapist," Mulder replied. Krycek thought that the agent
seemed like he actually felt better now. He could only guess as to what the
reason was. Maybe because Scully would be spared this time, he thought to
himself. Probably. Or could it be because of his partner's denial of
pleasure? Possibly. Anyway, he thought, shrugging the question aside, down
to business. Clearing his throat, he began again.

"Anyway, down to business. Scully, I want you up on the bed,
back against the headboard."

When Scully made no move to get up, Krycek cocked his pistol and
placed the muzzle to Mulder's temple. "I said up on the bed, Scully. Now."

Reluctantly, Scully rose, and crawled onto the bed. Krycek
retrieved the pair of handcuffs he had in his pockets, and tossed them at
the woman. "Cuff your right hand to the bedpost," he ordered.

Scully complied, sending him a look so dirty that he felt like
he would need a shower if she kept it up. When the cuff was in place, she
spoke.

"What are you going to do with him?" she asked, suddenly
appearing slightly disconcerted, the most off-balance he had seen her in a
long time. Krycek laughed.

"Oh, I'm just gonna have a little fun with Mulder here. And
he's gonna let me, 'cause if he doesn't, he'll have to clean *you* off the
wall," he intoned, knowing he looked, and sounded, serious. Of course he
wasn't serious, he could no more shoot Scully than he could shoot Mulder; he
just felt too close to them, even though they'd never know it. And Scully
*didn't* know this, and Mulder didn't know this, and what they didn't know
wouldn't hurt them. Okay, maybe it'd hurt Mulder for a few seconds, but
Krycek would make him forget the pain soon enough, and have him begging for
more.

"Fuck," Scully whispered, horrified.

"Fuck," Mulder also whispered, at the same time, staring with huge,
hate-filled, and, if Krycek was reading it right, slightly fearful eyes.

"Don't mind if I do, Mulder," replied Krycek with a quirky grin.
"Now, get over here."

Mulder appeared to weigh his options, so Krycek felt he would
have to remind the man of his situation if he was to get this show on the
road. He raised the gun, moving its sights from Mulder's head to Scully's.

"Mulder, you really *do* want to do what I ask. Don't test me;
I don't have the patience. Don't make it easier to kill her than to deal
with you. You don't want that, do you?"

Mulder stared back at him in blazing hatred, but began to rise
to his feet.

"No, Mulder, on your knees. *Crawl* over here to me."

Sneering nastily, Mulder complied. When the agent was kneeling
directly before him, Krycek smiled wider.

"Unzip me and take me out, Mulder," he intoned, relishing the
flush that flooding the man's face. The agent looked up at him, a plea
written across his face.

"Krycek... not here...if I have to do this, let's at least go to
another room," the agent asked quietly.

"Oh but Mulder, that would take half the fun out of it! And
really; you got to watch Scully last time, would you really want to deprive
her of her turn?"

Across the room, Scully snorted at the implication that she
actually wanted to witness something like this. But then she immediately
sobered. "Krycek, don't do this to him." she pleaded.

Krycek smiled sweetly at Scully before looking back to Mulder,
deliciously prostrated at his feet. "Sorry guys, it's not an option. Well,
Mulder, get down to it."

Mulder sighed heavily, his face burning red with anger and
embarrassment. He raised his hands shakily to Krycek's fly, paused for a
moment, and then applied his fingers to the button on the jeans. Krycek
watched, amused, as Mulder tried studiously to avoid brushing against or
touching in any way the large bulge trapped within.

The agent then grasped the zipper carefully, and began to pull
it down, but in the process, his knuckles brushed lightly against Krycek's erection,
causing the slim hips to buck into his hand. Mulder jumped, and tried to
pull away, but Krycek simply raised his gun higher again, underlining the
situation once again for the older man.

"Come on Mulder, you're going to have to touch it anyway, don't
be shy," he said, teasing the flustered agent.

Mulder's hands returned to their task, and when the zipper was
completely opened, he paused, as if unsure what to do. Krycek thought he
would have to make his point *again*, but finally Mulder moved into action,
gingerly sliding the jeans over his hips, leaving them at his mid-thighs,
and then reached to do the same with the boxers. Krycek hissed as Mulder eased the
band of the underwear past his rigid cock, feeling the cold air across his
heated skin.


******************************************************


Mulder was unable to stifle a gasp as Krycek's
considerably-sized cock sprung out of his shorts. It bobbed there, just inches from his
mouth, large, flushed, and full of blood, its tip weeping pre-cum. Mulder
felt the insane, yes surely insane, urge to reach out his tongue to taste
that fluid. He felt his face blush deeper, and chastised himself
internally.

He had carefully been listening to the exchange between Krycek
and Scully, trying to get an idea of what exactly what their relationship
was. He had been thoroughly thrilled when his partner asserted that it had
been a case of rape, and that she had not liked it in any way, even if her
body reacted. And when Krycek mentioned that he had had Scully *once*, and
now he wanted Mulder, he had almost whooped with joy; he probably would have
if that last part hadn't been attached. Good God, what did Krycek want from
him? But at least now he knew that Scully wanted him, not Krycek, and
that there had been no *thing* between them.

Mulder simply sat there before Krycek's feet, praying that an
earthquake would come and kill him, to save him from whatever his enemy had
in store for him. Or better yet, for the earthquake to kill Krycek. But it
didn't come, and he knew it wouldn't, and time seemed to stretch out before
him, that hard, ruddy penis floating enticingly before his face.
he thought,

For Mulder's cock was hardening as he knelt there; he had always
thought his enemy an attractive man, and now he could hardly
believe the temerity of his traitorous body. He was aroused, when Scully
was chained to her bed, with a gun pointing at her? Mulder wanted to die.

From above him, Krycek began to chuckle deep in his throat.
"Oh, what's this, Mulder? You're not as disgusted as you would like to
appear, are you?"

Mulder felt that if he continued to blush any deeper, he would
turn purple, then black, and then keel over and die right there. please,> he thought, He looked up at his
tormentor, full of shame at his own arousal, and a wisp of a famous play
fluttered through his mind, 'oh that this too too solid flesh would melt...'

"Please," he begged, whispering, hoping Scully wouldn't hear
him, "another room. Krycek, please."

He hated himself for begging. But what choice did he have? He
couldn't try to overtake the man; that pistol probably had a hair trigger.
If he tried anything, he would be risking Scully's life. And he would still
prefer to suffer whatever Krycek may have in store for him rather that see
his partner and new lover hurt or killed.

Krycek smirked. "Sorry, buddy. No can do."

Mulder hung his head for a moment. Then, steeling himself, he
looked up at the younger man, his face hard, and asked, "Okay, what do you
want, you slimy piece of shit?"

"Oh, Mulder, flattery will get you nowhere," Krycek laughed, and
then became serious. "But sucking my cock will; maybe if I come in your
mouth, we can call it quits there."

Mulder felt two reactions flood simultaneously through his
being. A surge of desire and happiness, and a plummeting feeling of
disgust, more directed at he himself than at the idea of the act being
demanded of him. From behind him, he heard Scully gasp in horror and
sympathy.

Krycek spoke again, this time to the woman on the bed. "Scully,
you might want to keep quiet. It'll probably be easier on poor Mulder if
you don't remind him that you're here."

Mulder could almost *hear* the contemptuous smirk stretched
across his enemy's face. But the man was right; knowing that Scully was
there, watching this, made it just that much more difficult. He prayed
inwardly that she would comply, and was reassured when she did not answer.
If he could just block her presence out of his mind, maybe he could just do
this, and it would be over.

He was still kneeling there at Krycek's feet, eyes transfixed by
the penis bobbing before him when he heard the man address him again. "Oh,
and Mulder? Be careful of your teeth; if I feel the slightest touch of
them, I pull the trigger. Got it?"

Mulder nodded miserably.

"Good. Now get to work."

Mulder swallowed hard, and reluctantly moved his mouth closer to
Krycek's cock. What now? He had never done this before. He slowly,
carefully, flicked out his tongue, giving a small lap to the upright shaft
before him, but jerked back again at the shudder that shook the man. He
glanced up at the hated face above him, and saw Krycek gazing at him from
behind lowered black lashes. He felt a rush of arousal course through him
against his will; that look of ragged desire gazing at *him* unexpectedly
did something for his own cock, causing it to rise proudly from his lap. He
lowered his eyes again, cursing himself.

Gingerly, he brought up one hand to grip Krycek's cock with his
thumb and his index and middle fingers, pulling it down slightly. His
tongue came out again, almost without his conscious decision to do so, and
he dipped the tip into the slit at the head of the penis, catching up the
drops of fluid there and pulling them back into his mouth. Krycek groaned
quietly from above him.

The taste was exquisite, musky and salty with a slight tang, not
unlike his own semen. He eyes closed briefly, involuntarily, but he forced
them open again when he heard Krycek's quiet huff of mirth at his expense.

Trying to ignore the man's nearly silent statement, he moved to
lick the head of the cock once again, but this time, as soon as his mouth
opened, Krycek thrust his hips forward, driving the hard length of flesh
deep into his throat, teasing at his gag reflex. How Mulder managed not to
retch right then he'd never know, but as Krycek laid the "hand" of his
prosthetic arm in his hair and began to thrust in and out of his mouth, he
found himself rocking his own hips in the same rhythm.

Krycek's thrusts were thankfully not as deep as his first, so
after the initial breeching of his mouth, Mulder didn't feel the physical
need to gag. As the solid flesh glided smoothly back and forth over his
lips, in and out of his mouth, he found himself swirling his tongue around
it, reveling in the taste of the slick, musky skin. Bracing himself with
his hands on the back of Krycek's thighs, he began to bob his head forward
on his enemy's upstroke, encouraging the man to go deeper again in his
mouth, and he relaxed his throat muscles in an attempt to accommodate that
impressive length.

Mulder didn't realize he had reached to stoke his own cock until
he heard Krycek's voice, husky with arousal.

"Don't touch yourself," the man said, "that's mine. You wait
your turn."

At first any sense of embarrassment Mulder would feel was
clouded by a surge of happiness. That meant Krycek was planning to touch
him, too! But as this thought left his mind, Mulder again remembered who
else was in the room, and that he was supposed to be hating this, damn it,
and he thought he would die of the shame itself. Scully must have seen him,
seen him reaching to stroke his own cock as he was forced to give Alex
Krycek head. Oh God. He wanted to die. Now. Please, God.

But the increasing speed and depth of Krycek's thrusts brought
him back to the task at hand, and he tried to prepare himself for the flood
of semen he expected to spurt into his mouth at any moment. But just as
Krycek's thrusts began to become jerky and irregular, surely indicating
imminent ejaculation, the man's gun hand pushed Mulder away rudely. He sat
back on his legs panting, close to orgasm himself, even though he had not
managed to touch his own straining erection for more than one stroke before
his tormentor had intervened.

Krycek was gazing down at Mulder, eyeing the agent's erection
from beneath hooded lids, panting heavily.

"Sweet," he said, almost absently, when he got his breath back,
"so sweet. Glad to see you're enjoying this, too."

Mulder glared at him, his face flushing again in embarrassment.
cock?> he wondered. He was confused as to what Krycek wanted. Didn't he
say that he wanted to come in his mouth? What the hell was up?

Krycek gave him the answer him soon enough. "But Mulder, I bet
you have a sweet ass, too. Nice and hot and tight."

Mulder looked up at him, shocked, as Scully make a small choking
sound from behind. "But Krycek.you said."

Krycek interrupted. "I said that if I came in your mouth, maybe
we could call it quits. But ya know, I thought to myself, hmm, maybe it'd
be nice to have that tight ass all for myself. That tight virgin ass, just
for me...and you are a virgin, aren't you?"

Mulder blinked, the coloring of his face darkening to almost
purple. Slowly, he nodded.

"That's what I thought," said Krycek in a gentle, sympathetic
voice. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." He smirked.

Scully's voice broke the silence that followed. "Don't do this
to him, Krycek! I don't care, rape me again if you have to, but don't hurt
him!"

"No!" Mulder cried, horrified at the thought of living out his
nightmares again in reality. "I'll do it, just don't do it to Scully!"

"Oh, such martyrs," drawled Krycek. "But it's Mulder I want
this time, Scully. Don't worry, I wont hurt him. In fact, I'd venture to
say that he'd like it. I know you know he's a voyeur, with all those videos
of his, but I'm betting that he's a bit of an exhibitionist, too. I mean,
look at this hard-on he's sporting, with you in the room and everything!"

Krycek had turned Mulder roughly around on his knees so that he
was in full frontal view of his partner, who gasped at the sight of the
ridged penis rising from his dark pubic hair. Mulder dropped his head in
shame, unable to look Scully in the eyes.

"It's okay, Mulder," he heard her say softly, and he lifted his
head. She looked into his face and continued. "You can't help how your
body reacts. I don't think less of you."

Mulder smiled weakly at her from his place on the floor, but the
smile faded as Krycek spoke again.

"Oh, and neither do I, Mulder. No fears there. I'll respect
you in the morning," he said obviously struggling to maintain a 'sincere'
look on his face. "Now get over there and kneel before the bed."

Having no real choice but to obey, he crawled over to the bed,
and knelt there silently, eyes locked with Scully. He felt somehow better
for her reassurances, and he felt he could handle whatever was to come, and
she would not scorn him for it. He tried to discipline his mind; he could
deal with anything, he had dealt with worse before, he could do it again,
even if this situation was different. He could be a Stoic if he needed to.

From behind him he could hear rustling, and Mulder then felt a
hand pushing between his shoulder blades, urging him to bend over the bed,
just as he had had Scully only a short time before. He complied with a
sinking feeling; this was actually going to happen! Krycek handed him
another pair of handcuffs, and he moved to apply them to himself without
even having to be asked, starting to cuff his hands in front of him, hoping
that maybe at some point he could gain control of the situation.

"No, Mulder, behind your back," came the voice from behind him.
With his hope gone as quick as it had come, Mulder once again complied.

He laid his cheek on the bed, facing the wall, now unable to look at anyone,
even his partner. His cock was veritably throbbing with anticipation. He
heard a quiet >snick< behind him as the gun was uncocked, but he noticed
that there was no accompanying sound of the safety being switched back on.

There were a few hideously long moments of silence, and then he
felt Krycek's foot kicking his knees apart to give the man better access.
Mulder almost jumped sky-high when suddenly he felt a cold substance being
spread liberally between his ass cheeks, the fingers lingering around his
anus. He clenched in fearful anticipation.

Krycek sighed from behind him. "Seriously Mulder, you're gonna
have to relax. You'll just hurt yourself if you don't."

Mulder didn't reply, just focused on the bizarre sensation of
that finger sweeping, circling, teasing his hole, expecting it to breech the
confines of his body at any moment. But before that happened, though, the
finger left his body, and Mulder's muscles relaxed in relief. Krycek
chuckled again from behind him, and then the finger returned, again laden
with that substance, and before he could even think to prepare for it, the
tip of that finger entered his anus slightly, for only a moment before
coming out again. He let out a heavy breath he hadn't known he had been
holding.

The finger swept around his tightly shut muscle for several more
moments, lulling Mulder into relaxing. At this precise moment, the finger
entered him again, taking advantage of the laxness. He grunted aloud at the
invasion, his chest rising off the bed, but Krycek's plastic "hand" pressing
on his back encouraged him to lie back down. The finger stayed in place,
motionless.

"You FUCK!" he yelled angrily, but the finger wasn't removed.
Not that he actually expected it to be. This was Krycek he was dealing
with.

As Mulder's body slowly relaxed around the digit, he found
himself surprised that the intrusion didn't actually hurt. It felt strange,
granted, and vaguely uncomfortable, but not exactly painful. His cock was
throbbing, and he had to fight the urge to thrust into edge of the bed.
God, he couldn't actually be *enjoying* this, could he? He was being raped
for God's sake!

Before he could ruminate further on such issues, Krycek began to
pump his finger in and out of Mulder's anus causing the agent to tighten
again in discomfort. Suddenly, a burst of pleasurable sensation exploded
through Mulder's body, and he thrust mindlessly into the bedspread beneath
him, grunting aloud in abject pleasure.

Krycek laughed from above him. "Liked that, didja? I thought
you would."

Whatever his enemy had done, he did it again, and Mulder felt
that he would blow his load right then and there, right in front of Scully.
He couldn't! Couldn't! Fighting for control, Mulder tried to think of
anything other than the situation at hand. Anything. But suddenly he
realized that he was not holding strong, but was indeed pushing back onto
Krycek's finger, fucking himself on the man's hand wantonly, grunting
quietly in time to his own backwards thrusts.

Suddenly a flare of pain flashed before his eyes as Krycek added
a second finger on the instroke. But that was only for a moment, and then
all Mulder could feel was the jolts of intense pleasure that pounded through
his body each time Krycek's fingers shoved back into him. He desperately
wanted to touch himself, but the handcuffs prevented him. Whining softly,
he tried to both push back on Krycek's hand and maintain friction on his
painful erection.

Then a third finger entered him, and there was more pain this
time, but the pleasure followed again, driving him to sluttish distraction.
He was only half-aware of the sounds issuing from his mouth; he had
completely forgotten Scully's presence. Until, that is...

"Scully! You? I never figured *you* for a voyeur!"

Guiltily, Mulder remembered his partner, and jerked his head up
to see what Krycek was talking about. At the sight of her, he once again
almost came on the sheets. For Scully was spread above him on the pillows,
the skin on her face and chest flushed, the most delicious glistening
wetness showing between her legs. He had looked up in time to catch her
jerking her hand away from that wetness, a wash of guilt flooding her face
as she made eye contact with Mulder.

Mulder managed a smile, attempting to reassure her. He had
never seen anything so delectable. "It's okay," he whispered.

Scully's eyes widened. "But..."

"It's okay..."

But before he could finish, Krycek's fingers plunged back into
his ass, and his face contorted with blissful pleasure. "God!" he
exclaimed, arching into the sheets.

Surprisingly, Krycek said nothing more about it. Perhaps it was
because he knew that if he ribbed the woman about it, she wouldn't touch
herself at all. And Mulder was sure that was not what the man wanted.
Hell, it was not what *he* wanted.

Suddenly the presence in his ass was removed, and Mulder had to
fight to contain a whimper at the loss. But then he felt a blunt pressure
at his anus, and he started to panic. This man, Alex Krycek for fuck's
sake, was going to shove his *penis* up his ass!

"GET OFF ME!!" he yelled, trying to thrash away from his
attacker. "Get..."

But it was too late; Krycek had thrust his lubed cock forward
quickly into Mulder's twitching, open hole, skewering him in one stroke, battering
his prostate again on its way in. His protestations quickly changed to
moans of pleasure. There was some discomfort, and an aching feeling of
fullness, but any real pain was minimal.

He felt Krycek pause there for a moment above him, filling him
completely, obviously reveling in it. "Oh, Mulder, I was right...you are
sooo tight..." he moaned, and Mulder could feel that massive, thick cock flex a
single time within him, causing him to moan in response.

Slowly, Krycek pulled back about halfway, and then with a savage
thrust of his hips plunged back in. Mulder felt his enemy's balls slap
against his ass cheeks as he finished the thrust, and he pushed backwards,
impaling himself further in an uncontrollable lustful response. Krycek
withdrew slowly and pounded back into Mulder again and again, taking up a
slow and languorous rhythm. Each and every stroke was angled to hit that
pleasure center in his victims' ass, sending Mulder into paroxysms of
pleasure.

Suddenly it occurred to Mulder to glance up at Scully, and when
he did, he knew the sight would be imprinted permanently on the sexual part
of his brain. She was panting breathlessly, her mouth slack, her nipples
erect. Her hands lay by her side, twitching; he knew she wanted to touch
herself, and respected her for withholding when it was so obviously a hard
thing for her to do, even though she had his permission. She was obviously
stronger than he. She locked eyes with him, her lips spread slightly in a
sad, loving smile, which he forced himself to return.

Then Krycek spoke again, between pants, never pausing in his
thorough fucking of Mulder's ass. "Scully. Scooch down here."

Mulder saw Scully's face go blank, and he knew that she didn't
understand what the man wanted. But Krycek also seemed to have seen it. "I
want him to eat you, Scully; don't make me have to pick up my gun again."

Scully's lip curled at this, but she then edged her ass down the
bed, moving as low as she could with her hand still cuffed to the bedpost.
This positioned her hips well in range of Mulder's mouth, and he didn't have
to wait to be told what to do. He dove into the job at hand (mouth?) with
gusto, licking his partner's clit furiously, alternating with a few stabs to
her opening with his tongue. He busied himself with her gasps and moans,
her smell and taste, her running juices; desperately trying to divert his
own attention from the glorious pleasure that Krycek's assault was giving
him.

Mulder could hear Krycek grunting rhythmically above him, and
the slamming into his rectum was increasing in force. The man was just
pummeling him, driving his hips into the bed and his mind into ecstasy with
each powerful, savage stroke. Suddenly Mulder felt a hand that wasn't his
own reach around and grasp his weeping prick, and he cried out aloud as
another stab to his prostate was performed at the same time. Krycek jerked
him hard, and Mulder felt climax approaching at a headlong run.

At this moment, Scully's hips suddenly bucked beneath Mulder's
mouth, and she cried out his name, *his* name, thank God, and his tongue was
flooded with her fluids.

As her taste permeated his mouth, with the next stroke on his
cock and in his ass, Mulder shot over the edge of bliss, contorting with
the force of his orgasm, shooting thick semen with astounding force all over
Scully's clean bedspread and Krycek's grasping hand. It
seemed to go on and on, his body racked with pleasure, his mouth open in a
silent scream of release; a loud grunt the only thing issuing audibly from
his mouth.

Krycek thrust hard, once, twice, three times, and then followed
the agents with a roar of what sounded like victory, and Mulder could feel
the Krycek's thick cock twitching and pulsing inside his ass, spurting the
assassin's seed deep within him. Finally the younger man collapsed onto his
back, panting hard, his sweat blending with Mulder's.

Mulder didn't say anything, was much too shocked to say anything
at all, but thankfully Krycek quickly straightened again. Mulder yipped in
surprise as a hand slapped his right ass cheek hard, and Krycek's softening
cock was withdrawn.

"Thanks for the ride, Mulder," Krycek said easily as he grabbed
the gun from beside him. From behind him, Mulder could hear him hiking up
his jeans. "Maybe we can do it again sometime."

Anger flared through Mulder's mind. "Shut the fuck up you
psycho piece of shit." A horrific new thought occurred to him. "Oh
fuck...you...you didn't use a condom, did you?"

"Ooo, temper, Mulder," the man replied. Mulder could almost
*hear* the grin on his face, and would have given anything to plow his fist
into it. "No, I didn't use a condom, I hate the fucking things. But I'm
clean, have no fear of that. I've been thoroughly tested, and it's not like I fuck
that often anyway, what with my lifestyle. No time for it usually."

Krycek then moved to leave the bedroom, but stopped for a moment
to address the other occupant of the room. "Now, Scully, don't say I never
did anything for you."

Scully emitted a squeak of fury and reached frantically for
something, anything she could use to attack Krycek with. All she could find
was a pillow, and by the time it had sailed across the room, Krycek was long
gone, laughing his way out of the apartment, calling after him, "I'll see
you two again, never doubt it!"

The two agents stayed silently where they were for a few
moments; Mulder still bent over the mattress, Scully perched on the pillows
at the top of the bed. They were both embarrassed at what had just
happened. Finally Mulder raised the nerve within himself to speak.

"Do you have a handcuff key somewhere around here?" he asked,
subdued. Scully directed him to her upper dresser drawer, and with some
difficulty Mulder fished it out with his hands still behind his back. He
brought it over to Scully, who released him with her free hand, and then
released herself.

Mulder stood next to the bed, hanging his head, unable to look
at Scully. He was uncomfortably aware of something wet dripping slowly down
his thighs. he thought, suffused anew with shame. semen. Alex Krycek's semen is dripping out of my ass. Why haven't I died
yet?> Then, thankfully, he felt Scully's hand reach for his, and he looked
into her eyes as she spoke.

"Mulder, are you hurt?"

Mulder, beginning to flush all over again, replied, "No, Scully.
I'm fine. He didn't really hurt me. He prepared me, remember?" He spat
out this last part.

Scully sighed, and pulled him to sit next to her. "You should
go to the hospital, Mulder, get checked out, and file a rape report. In
fact, we both need to be checked for STDs."

"I'm *fine*, Scully. There's no injury; well, except to
whatever pride I may have had left. And you didn't file a report when it
happened to you, did you? You must know how I feel about that. No way in
hell am I going to admit this. I can't let anyone in the Bureau find out.
I just can't."

He paused for a moment, then continued. "Scully, why didn't you
tell me what he did to you?"

She sighed heavily once again, and seemed to mull the answer
carefully in her mind. Taking a deep breath, she replied, "I don't know,
Mulder. I really don't. I guess I felt kind of what you're feeling now; I
was reluctant to let anyone know, even you. It would be so damn
embarrassing, having people know that I lost control, even for as short a
time as I did. I also thought you might think it was your fault that you
couldn't stop it, and it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could do.
And, I guess I was scared that you would be angry at me for the way he
manipulated my body into responding."

Mulder felt a stab of guilt. And he had feared that she
genuinely liked whatever Krycek had done! God, he was a piece of shit. But
he knew how she felt. He didn't want what Krycek did to him either, but his
body had responded.

"Scully, I love you. Don't worry about such things. I would
never hold what he did to you against you once I understood what happened,
and I do now."

She wrapped him in her arms, and he was flooded with intense
love for her. How could he have ever have doubted her, how could he have
thought there was something between her and Krycek? A strange happiness
washed over him. At least his worries were assuaged.

But Krycek...Krycek would pay. Oh yes, he would pay.


******************************************************


End