Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Stole 'em. Love 'em. Ain't
got no money.
Archive: Yes, to any list it's posted to. Everyone else just ask.
Date of First Posting: April 22, 2004
Author's Note: Krycek has two arms and he and Mulder have never done the
deed. I figure it's somewhere between Apocrypha and Tunguska.
As I'm cutting off his shirt, I realize how insane this is.
He's looking up at me with doe eyes full of venom, sweet and hard both at once,
and I just hurt for him.
I do. I hurt. The pull of want curling in my balls and unfurling
my cock hurts. My penis rears up inside my jeans and spreads a delicious
wet mess on the denim. It loves him. It always has. Though
it's never touched him. It wants really hard, though. I shush it
at night and pet it, stroke its head. It never calms from this, though.
Instead it rises up into my hand, making me have to strangle it angrily.
And then it gushes its tears onto my belly and chest, white and creamy and hot
like pain, and I soothe it then, panting and near delirious.
Mulder yanks at his bonds now, and I pull the knife from the fabric of his shirt
so that he won't cut himself. I sit back on my heels between his bound-open
legs and sigh. Insanity. But it has to be done. I have to
know.
"Mulder, be still," I whisper in the dark. The light in the kitchen is
on, and it throws a thick, dull, golden stripe diagonally across his body from
right armpit to left hipbone. The rest of him lies in blue shadow, restrained
and nude. Except for the shirt in tatters now open down to his waist.
I set the knife aside and reach for his gag.
My fingers still against his lips. I watch his eyes narrow and blink.
"If you scream, Mulder," I say. "I bring the knife back again. Understand?"
He blinks again, but then he nods.
I remove the gag, letting it rest against the sweat pooling at the base of his
slender throat. He licks his lips and glares at me.
I expect him to threaten me. I expect him to try to get me to let
him go. I expect his wrath and rage, the familiar burn of that indignation.
"You been watching my videos again, Krycek?" he asks on a breath.
I smile a little.
He has found a way to shock me. To be unexpected.
I take a moment to just look at him. Wrists tied to the headboard over
his head, hair dangling into his face perversely. Perverse because it's
so boyish. He looks so young here underneath me, even though he's ten
years my senior.
I let my eyes trail down his chest, the puckered, drawn nipples, aroused, calling
to me like sirens. The almost flat belly, the gentle round of it enticing
me to bend my face to it, to breathe it, to taste. I don't yet.
I caress his long legs with a look. I have them spread apart, ankles secured
to the bedposts.
Which leaves his cock and balls exposed, as well as a lovely, juicy peek at
the sweet curves of his butt.
He's mine.
When my eyes return to his face, lids lazily drooping, it's to find him panting
quietly.
He's been hard for some time now. Engorged against that soft, inviting
belly of his.
His penis is long, lying alongside his belly button, deceptively serene, even
red and swollen as it is.
Pre-cum drips from his aching slit like a steady rain, smearing his stomach
with its drool.
I love him. I really do. Not marriage love, or boyfriend love.
But love none-the-less. It's brotherly and not at all heroic and refined
by our complicated lives, our ragged history. No two ordinary lovers could
love like this, with the crushing certainty of the ill-fated. He's my
vice. He's my mirror. He's everything I cannot be.
He's essential.
And I'm not going to fuck him this time around because I love him too much for
that.
I sigh. And I drop my hands to his thighs, stroking slowly. He inhales.
"You like being tied up?" I ask him, the beginnings of a smile tainting my lips.
Stroking...stroking.
"No," he growls softly.
I smile bigger, angling up his inner thighs and watching him shiver. "Liar,"
I say.
I reach for the hem of my T-shirt and strip it off, tossing it to the side,
still smiling crookedly. His eyes blink unabashedly down to my chest.
His own puffs up with his deep inhale. My nipples tighten for him, and
his lips part. If I didn't think he'd feel obligated to bite me, I'd lean
over him and let him suck them. He wants to. Even though they're
not C-cups dangling in his face, all pale and soft. He wants them anyway.
His poor, juicy-fat cock twitches plaintively. He's too big for a woman.
I almost change my plans mid-seduction to let myself feel the unrelenting slide
of that pole into my asshole. I have a feeling it would resemble nirvana,
that he'd fit me somehow. I know he would.
I lean down and lick his hipbone instead, swallowing the new desire and avoiding
the pulsing need of his shaft.
"I always wanted you to do it to me." I tell him, licking meticulously around
the sharp bone. His breath hitches. I peek up at him between licks.
"You know...tie me up..." His lashes flutter.
"Untie me and take your chances," he challenges, danger hovering around the
nonchalance. I smile again, sitting up once more to pet his beautiful
thighs again. I'm smiling a lot tonight.
"Maybe next time," I tell him.
And then I lean back down and capture the tip of his cock in between my lips
and start lapping his sticky slit.
He bucks up on a roar of pleasure.
Got you, Mulder. Fucking got you. My own prick swells with
pride and stains my jeans some more.
I open my mouth to allow the head to push into me. He's fat and firm and
wedges tight into my mouth like a cork in a bottle. I hold his hip with
one hand and steady the ruddy root of him with the other.
Mulder pierces the thick dark with his cry.
He lets me eat his cock, nibbling around the crown and drinking the copious
pre-cum that courses a never-ending stream of want into my mouth. His
knees, bent slightly, open further and invite the rhythm of my sucking to draw
him deeper.
My mouth is hell for him, just as hot and damning.
I've never liked deep-throat, though, so I only press my face down another inch,
working my calloused hand along the length as I fondle the luscious end of him
with my tongue and my sucking. I give him a little teeth because Mulder
is a dangerous man. He goes crazy for it, launching his hips up and thrashing
against the fluffy pillows under his head.
I love him. I let my hand squeeze him hard and sure. With it I promise
him heaven.
I have to know.
I lift my stretched mouth off of him, leaving him sparkling with my spit.
I stroke him a few times as I look up at his sweaty face. There's a lock
of hair sticking to his forehead now. I kind of fixate on it as I jack
him off. It's fascinating to watch him try not to tell me how much he
loves this. He's so slick from his own juice and my mouth that my hand
moves nice and easy on him. And his eyes open and close slowly, avoiding
me even as his cock yearns for more of it and his body betrays him as surely
as I did when I left him.
I have to know.
So I grab a pillow from up by his head and shove it under his butt before I
slither down, getting my face between the V of his forced open thighs.
I breathe him in, nearly sweet under the salt and tang of his sweat. And
dark. He smells dark. Like secrets. Like mystery.
I press my face to his balls and nuzzle him. I am so much less than his
enemy right now.
He gurgles. It's precious and sexy and true.
I lick him...his pillowed balls and the base of his hot cock. I work my
mouth around the base, sucking the veined hardness with greed. I grunt
on his flesh and grab his thighs.
Then I kiss down his ball sac, inhaling the ready musk of his sex, eyes watering
with my own need. I nip at his perineum and rejoice in the surrendering
uptilt of his hips. I pull back, and I can see it. Small and tight
and scared. I mewl in sympathy even as my cock cries to know him there...to
be the first...to delight in the decadent silken violence of fucking.
I won't fuck him. I'll love him. I open his soft, trembling cheeks
with my hands and push my face into his ass, finding the tiny, dark hole with
my tongue and licking softly.
"Ahhhh!" he wails somewhere above me, his anus closing off to me.
I tilt my head and kiss it, so tender I'm going to explode.
His butt bounces on the pillow in frustration, dislodging my mouth. I
look up to see the desperate frown crease his face.
He's panting again. "Kuh, Kuh, Kruh..."
"Has nobody loved you here before?" I whisper to him.
I nuzzle his thighs and wait for him to settle.
It's not that I think he's never done this. He's a perv. I have
watched a couple of his videos. But thinking of someone down here, poking
at him and lapping like a dog at a water bowl just makes me want to cry.
"You...don't...love..." he gasps out, and I sigh against his leg.
My voice is yet another whisper. "You don't know the first thing about
me."
And then I fit my face into the crack of his ass again and I begin a languorous,
gentle licking at the bud of his anus. I don't touch him anywhere else
at first. I want him to know this. To have nothing else to focus
on.
He sobs again, body going stiff.
I just keep with it, my tongue soft and reverential.
Reverence. I wonder if I can lick that word onto him. I worship
you, Mulder. How's that for perverted?
He moans, and I feel the little hole relax a little. I reward it by not
pushing in any harder. I keep him safe and warm in my mouth. I'm
so gentle it hurts me. And it's perfect. I've always wanted Mulder
to hurt me a little.
I drink in the scent of him, the buttery warmth of sex and skin. It's
good. Too good. I want to touch myself so bad I feel faint with
it.
And his taste... Not good like fine wine or a sinful dessert. Though
sin is on my mind as I eat him. No. Good like tasting Bach.
Good like licking the ocean. Good in so many ways that burst on my tongue
in harmony with each other.
He groans, and I know it's time to touch his cock again.
I keep my tongue on his dusky pucker now trying to yawn open wide enough to
suck me in. I trail my hand from his inner thigh up to his cock and ghost
my fingers up to his glans. He chokes on a gasp and I encircle the pounding
girth of him at the same time as I dip the tip of my tongue into his now-wet
hole.
"Ah! Aleh!" he cries, and I close my eyes in utter bliss.
I stoke his proudly leaking cock and lovingly eat his ass, nudging his sweet
balls with my nose and listening to him almost saying my name.
With my free hand I reach down to his ankle binding, surreptitiously unraveling
the knot and loosing him from its hold. I do the other one, switching
hands to reach and still keep my mouth pressed strong to his ass now trying
to work itself into my face for more.
He's now released except for his hands and I hear a little high grunt of surprise.
And at that moment, I swirl my tongue in a slow, delicious circle inside him
and pump his cock hard.
He cries out, his balls drawing up, and his legs come to hug around my head,
holding fiercely in place as he starts to come, moaning loudly and rocking his
hips, riding me and making me fist-fuck his spasming cock to the finish.
"Unn, Krycek, unn, Alex..." he sobs, bucking sweetly, legs crossing behind my
head. And I lave his gripping anus, tasting the cum that has dribbled
down his cock and balls to reach my lips.
I think I know now. And it's sweeter than sex has ever been.
When he's done, his legs fall to the bed, releasing me, and as he breathes harshly
in the aftermath, I eat up his balls, up his hard, throbbing cock. He
cries out once as I clean him, as I take what's mine. And when I'm done
and my face is smeared with the remnant of his lust, I rise up and look down
at him.
There are tear stains on his face.
"Mulder..." I manage to whisper.
He just looks at me, legs limp, empty weapons. His cock is hard even still,
even now glistening a blister red. I lick my lips and reach up to remove
the ropes from his wrists. I lean back and he hisses as he tries to lower
his arms.
"Easy," I say, grabbing my shirt and standing up.
He stares at me, sweat-soaked and fucked-looking. He looks down at my
cock trapped in the moist hug of my jeans. I smile.
"Keep those ropes, Mulder," I tell him. I pull the shirt over my head
and manage to back toward the door, even hard as pipe ready to cream myself
over the sight of his naked, slack body, the lasting taste of him in my mouth.
"You might need 'em someday."
He begins to sit up, sluggishly. "Krycek," he says.
I pause at his bedroom door. "Yeah?"
He blinks at me. "Next time."
And I don't know if it's a request or a promise. Doesn't matter.
I smile at him sitting there half-smirking at me, and I back out the door and
leave.
