You May As Well Forbid the Sun to Shine
Author: Satina
Pairing: M/K
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Nonconsensual sexual activity
Dedication: To 4NickLea! Happy Birthday to my dearest muse, besides my beloved! Thank you for keeping the fires burning!
Spoilers: This takes place during the first season episode Deep Throat, before Mulder and Krycek meet each other in the series.
Summary: Is this where Krycek's obsession began?
Notes: Shannon and I both opened a women's literature anthology and chose a page at random to take a quote from for our inspiration. This was mine, from a play where a man tricks his wife into sleeping with another man, then it turns out the other man was secretly in love with the woman in question and is not going away anytime soon.
"You may as well forbid the Sun to shine.
Not see you more!-Heavens! I before adored you
But now I rave! And with my impatient Love,
A thousand mad, and wild Desires are Burning!
I have discovered now new Worlds of Charms.
And can no longer tamely love and suffer."
"The Lucky Chance, or an Alderman's Bargain" by Alpha Behn
It was his purity. His righteous anger and impatience with anything less perfect than himself. His quickness to ignite into boyish elation and also into sanctimonious condemnation and rage. I hated him. Born with not only a silver spoon between his generously apportioned lips, (Actually, the top one's pretty thin. It's the bottom one that looks so plump you're almost afraid to touch it for fear it'll burst.) but with the keys to the kingdom at arm's reach.
Okay, not exactly, since the man who raised him knew he wasn't his and hated him for it. Decided to make him into a weapon against the men he was too much a coward to oppose when it really mattered. A perfect weapon, forged into steel by guilt, honed sharp by constant pain and loss. But still, everything I had to earn, had to lie, cheat, steal, and worst of all *work* for would be his by blood someday, no matter how much time and effort he spent in the meantime trying to destroy it.
Spender's ultimate dream, to pass his legacy on to his eldest son when the time was right.
Must be where Mulder got his delusional perfectionism. Spender never even considered letting anyone earn their way into the coveted place he was keeping ready for his son. Not even me, and I was willing to do anything. *Anything* at all, to step into that spot. More than they knew and sure as hell more than they asked of me, although I put up enough of a token protest against the corruption of my feigned innocence that they wouldn't suspect my larger aims.
Mulder Mulder Mulder. What's so damned special about Fox Mulder? I would ask, but not of him, because I knew better. I would ask the others, the ones who satellited around him. The answers varied, many of them true, none of them giving the whole story. Brilliant. Driven. Supernaturally insightful. Relentless. Incorruptible. It was the last that really made up my mind, when the opportunity presented itself.
Like I said, I'd asked around, trying to unravel the Mulder mystique, so when he was captured on a military base and given a full mind-wipe to erase what he'd seen, I got a call from one of those circling vultures, hoping to pay off what had become for him a very troubling debt. Offering me the chance to explore Mulder's mysteries for myself.
I was in San Diego doing some tech-weapons training and caught a flight to Idaho immediately. My source had wrangled things so that he was the guard assigned to watch the patient. He told me they planned to dump Mulder off at his motel in a few hours and let him finish sleeping it off there, but for now, they were busy with other things.
I crept in and stood by his bedside, just studying his face.
Nothing all that special, really, for the most part. Small eyes fringed with ordinary, light brown lashes. Big nose, almost humorous when viewed head-on, although from the side it created a nearly-perfect profile, somehow. The mouth was the exception. Somehow generous and cruel at the same time. Childlike silliness and pure seduction all at once. Pouting a little even as he slept, a droplet of drool in one corner of his mouth. That fat lower lip with its luxurious indent in the center, always waiting to be pressed, the plush opening to be breached.
I tried it with my finger. I reached down and stroked softly over that fragile skin. There was more moisture just inside the surface, wetting my fingertip and stiffening my dick. Juicy, Mulder's mouth. Hungry, like he always seemed to be. Never satisfied, never content, always panting after the next savory crumb. He grunted softly, lips parting a little, giving me a peek at the slick, red heat between.
Incorruptible. Pure. And by all accounts, hetero as all fuck.
Not that it mattered, with him unconscious and lying at hip-height, naked except for a sheet and strapped down to a gurney with some of the most powerful pharmaceuticals on the planet raging through his bloodstream. Pandora's box couldn't have been more promising.
The theory they're operating on is that memory is stored in the neurotransmitters released during the experience of an event, and that if they can either administer the correct combination of chemicals and targeted electric shocks to the brain directly following the event or can induce the subject to vividly remember the event, complete with emotion, and then administer the treatment, they can sufficiently scramble the electrical and chemical balances so that the subject will be unable to retain, or at least reaccess, whatever memory they want to target.
So Sleeping Beauty's brilliant mind was, at the moment, a misfiring soup of electrical and chemical chaos. But Mulder should be fine tomorrow, with no memory of anything that happened while he was on the base.
Now, the treatment wasn't designed to erase what happened directly after the drugs and shock treatments were given, so I was taking a bit of a risk, but with what they'd done to him, even if he did somehow store anything close to a lucid memory of this twilight time, he'd think it was a wet dream. Or maybe a nightmare, depending on what I decided to do to him.
I hadn't really made up my mind yet. It's not like I'd been planning this. Yes, I'd fantasized about him, about somehow getting inside that sumptuous mouth, or even that lean, tight little backside, but I thought I'd been less transparent about that part of my obsession with him, certainly not sharing it with any of the lowlifes that populated the ranks of the level of the Syndicate I was fast clawing my way out of. I'd have to be more careful, though, because this guy had evidently figured out that my interest in Fox Mulder was more than intellectual. The gleam in his eyes when I arrived suggested he wouldn't mind taking a stab at Spender, Jr. himself. I started to wonder if he already had. The thought made me re-assess my disposition of debt forgiveness toward him. I sure as hell didn't want to plumb Fox Mulder's pure depths only to find I wasn't the first explorer to lay a claim.
I frowned and withdrew my finger from Mulder's mouth, then took hold of the sheet and pulled it slowly down his chest, laying it just across his groin. I didn't want to consume my feast all at once. Just seeing the cheap poly-cotton bunched over what was, even in total quiescence, a sweet bulge, sent a rush of blood to my thickening erection. Drool collected under my tongue and I swallowed, settling my gaze on one small, dark pink nipple. It was pebbled hard by the cool of the room and possibly the drugs in his system. I reached down and scratched over it lightly with my fingernail, and Mulder bucked a little against his restraints.
He was strapped down with leather restraints around his forearms that held them securely at his sides, with similar straps holding his ankles to the corners of the cot. His legs were still covered, of course, but I could see the jagged shapes of the restraints under the sheet at both edges. If only I had more time. Like a year or two. Not less than an hour and forty-five minutes to satisfy whatever curiosity I could before they came in to get him. I was wasting time.
My tongue moved in my mouth, stroking against the back of my teeth, and I parted my lips and bent low, flicking it out for a taste of skin. I tongued at the same nipple I'd scratched, steadying myself on the edges of the cot and letting my eyes flutter closed.
I'd had sex with several dozen men and a few dozen women, and I'd tasted plenty of nipple flesh in the fifteen years since I'd lost my virginity, but I had to admit, there *was* something special about the taste of Fox Mulder. It wasn't really the taste, of course, plain skin slightly salty with fear-sweat, or the texture, stiff and slightly rough against my tongue. I'd have to call it energetic, the way that small act of worship washed my whole body with warm fulfillment. And need. I'd only wanted, before. Been curious and fascinated. But now, with Mulder's flesh getting harder beneath my flicking tongue, small, soundless grunts of breath resonating softly in his chest under me, I knew that if I didn't have him soon I'd be a little crazy with the pain of it. I moaned myself, eyes already wet with arousal, and moved to tongue the other nipple hungrily.
I sensed a slight shifting of the cotton a little lower down, and sighed as I raised my mouth, looking down his concave belly to the sheet below. My breath left me at the sight of Mulder's dark, plump cock unfurling along his hip, pushing the stiff sheet away, leaving just enough of a gap for me to peek through. Lovely, chemically-induced cooperation from Fox Mulder's lean and hungry body. Bonus.
I moaned again and moved back, impatient with my own tease now. I pulled the sheet down his legs, letting it rest on his slender thighs, noticing a slight tremble to my fingers as I released it and let myself stare.
His dick was big. And it wasn't half-hard yet, I could tell. Still sluggish and wrinkled, but darkening with blood, and not just long but thick, too, and getting thicker as I watched. I didn't even think about it or remember making a choice, just found myself bent low, mouth opening, tongue sliding under the head of him as I sucked him in. I moaned, exhaling through my nose, as the warm, plumping flesh filled my mouth. Already it was nudging softly at the back of my throat, even though it was obviously not yet fully thickened. I licked at the stiffening flesh with my tongue, suckling greedily to bring things along. Mulder moaned and moved fruitlessly in his restraints, and within a minute I was gagging slightly as I strove to take all that he was trying to give me.
Oh, he was hard now, and thick, poking deep into my throat as I drove myself lower and lower, pride motivating me to see if I could swallow the entire length of him without choking. My throat ached and burned with the stretch, my mind panicking as my breathing was restricted to just the outstrokes, but I managed to find a laborous rhythm finally, straining to maintain it as I stabbed my own throat repeatedly.
I'd only ever performed deep-throat before in exchange for something I wanted. Never to satisfy some desire of my own. But somehow, I had to take all of him down that I could. I had to stretch and burn and throb around him. I was suddenly starving to bring him all inside me. I whined brokenly, throat full of him, suddenly wanting him to be fucking me. Pounding me hard, stuffing me full, holding me in place and shoving so deep and so hard and so fast that I couldn't catch my breath. My eyes filled with it, this need, this terrifying craving, and I fucked myself on him more quickly, feeling the tears hot on my cheeks.
I would make him come. I didn't care what I had to do. How long it took. Who might come in and find me there impaled and bobbing. The mania was so high that the thought of multiple automatic rifles being ratcheted into place at my head only made me moan and move faster, gripping the sides of the gurney as my back screamed in protest.
I could hear his weak moans and felt his body trying to move in its restricted position, and I slid my hand down between his thighs to his balls to check for readiness. They were drawing up tight, his hips jogging my grip on his cock as they rocked sloppily. To dislodge me or drive me further I didn't know or care. He was going to come down my throat and that was all I knew. In a jealous flash, I remembered my suspicions about the guard and slid my finger back further to check Mulder's hole for violation. If I found signs of any, I would kill that guard. If he had stuck his filthy prick inside this sacred hole I might even have to slice it off before I made my escape. I fumbled with my finger, pushing between the lean mounds of his buttocks, already getting angrier at just the thought of the other man's possible sloppy theft of what was now so definitely mine to appreciate. The way wasn't slick at all, with either blood or lube, and as I probed harder, my finger encountered dry, puckered skin, closed so tightly against me that my dick throbbed with the imagined pain of pushing its way inside.
Unfucked. That tight, dry pucker was definitely unfucked and pure. Whole and clean. The guard would live. I stroked my fingertip quickly over the pucker repeatedly, not trying to get in, just petting the reluctant little opening, and suddenly the flesh in my mouth and throat swelled and began pulsing hotly. I quickly drew back, licking and suckling at the spurts of come, coaxing each one with strong sucks and swipes up Mulder's shaft with my tongue as Mulder moaned and thrashed weakly on the cot, body arched and pulling against his restraints.
I fed from his dick until all that remained were faint, sharp twitches that I sensed were more pain than pleasure. I slurped my way off, straightening up and stretching my back, closing my eyes and breathing hard. I was so aroused it hurt, slightly dizzy with it, dick pressing so insistently against my jeans I was afraid I'd pop the zipper. I looked down to see Mulder's eyes slit open somewhat, rolling and closing then opening just a little again, as if he was trying to catch a glimpse of me. I stepped back, licking my lips, watching his dick loll, still mostly hard, shiny with my spit but licked clean of anything else. I smiled and quickly pulled the sheet back up Mulder's body to his chest, resisting a nearly overwhelming urge to press my cum-scented lips to his. Exercising the last bit of my questionable restraint, I backed my way to the door and quickly opened it, exiting the room.
The guard stood taller when he saw me, and I met his eyes for a full five seconds.
"We're squared," I told him, referring to the debt he had incurred about a year previously with me. "Clean slate."
He let out his breath, nodding.
I couldn't help but smile, and I scanned the empty area and made my way quickly to the place I'd snuck in, the hole in their security that my stool pigeon had provided for me. As I climbed into my car, I knew it wasn't over. Not nearly over. I had tasted something I didn't even know existed, and now, rather than my curiosity...or my lust...being sated, I was primed for total acquisition of my target. My other ambitions were suddenly shoved aside and I knew my first priority would be to get an assignment that put me into contact...conscious, this time...with Fox Mulder, no matter what it took. Maybe it wouldn't even be so bad to lose the reign of the Syndicate to Fox Mulder after all...as long as I was in his bed when it happened. I started writing my proposal to Spender in my head as I drove.
END
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