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Pushing for Pleasure

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Pushing for Pleasure by Scipionis

Date sent: Sun, 22 Jun 1997 14:12:18 -0400 (EDT)
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Subject: Pushing for Pleasure Post
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, not even Beatrice Sinclair, who is actually a friend of mine, but not a pusher. At least not that I know of. Mulder and Scully and Skinner and Krycek are very much the property CC, 1013, Fox. The total profit from this venue is zero. Don't sue me, I'm poor anyway.
Rating: NC-17, for slash. Mulder/Krycek. romance, kind of.
Spoilers: Pusher
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Sequel Alert! Sequel to Hong Kong Serenade


Pushing for Pleasure
by Scipionis

The young woman was calmly walking into the FBI building, cool and confident, but with an air of quiet amusement. The trick she was pulling on the guards had been pulled before but not by her. Even taking pages out of someone else's book was an enjoyment. She went through the metal detector then smiled at the guard.

"Where do I find Fox Mulder's office?" Just a little twist of his perception of her was necessary to make him give the answer.

"In the basement, at the end of the corridor."

"Thank you. Most kind."

He nodded to her and turned his attention to the next visitor. She went to the elevator and waited patiently for one that was going down. Once it arrived, she set it to U and hummed to herself all the way down. At the ring the doors opened and she got out, sauntering down the hallway in the complete confidence that no-one would try to stop her.

There was a sign on the door saying "Fox Mulder". She crouched down and put her ear to the keyhole. There were two people in there, to judge by the minds she felt. One was a woman. Probably his partner. She'd have to get rid of her. Straightening, she leaned against the wall next to the door.

<You need to go to the bathroom.> she told the woman. <And you're thirsty. You can combine the errands. No need to come back before half an hour. It's slow going, anyway. Go now. Go.> She increased the pressure a little. <Go. Leave now. It's what you want to do. A nice coffee in the cafeteria would be just the thing. He can spare you for a bit. Go.>

After a few minutes, the door opened and a petite redhead walked out, ignoring the visitor. The young woman smiled and entered the office.

The man inside looked up, surprised to see anyone there. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, but the question is, what can I do for you?" She sat down in the chair opposite his desk without invitation.

"I don't believe I followed that."

"Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Mulder. I am Beatrice Sinclair, university student, and a pusher."

The simple word had quite an effect on Mulder. He went for his gun, only to realize he could not. She held his gaze and his hand, not letting up on her control over his body.

"Don't worry. I'm not here to hurt you. If I had come with that intention, you would be dead already. Surely you can see that?" At his nod she continued. "I believe it was you who met and killed Robert Patrick Modell, who called himself the pusher? Well, Mr. Mulder, Modell is not the only pusher in the world. There are rather many of us. I assume you have figured out how he developed his abilities. Well, he was a unique case in that. Most of us find out about our power differently. It is normally a natural thing, or as natural as can be supposed. Modell was a madman. We are not. We have some sort of loose organization that takes care of some issues. Like rogues like Modell." She leaned forward and found that he had stopped trying for his gun. She released the pressure just enough to let him notice. "We had been aware of the situation and had decided that he would have to die before he made our existence public. Two others and I were already hunting him when he began that disgusting little game with you. One of my colleagues died in that hospital. We fully intended to kill him, but that sort of thing doesn't come easy to us. I was very glad when you took it out of our hands." She sighed. "Look, if I stop holding you, will you refrain from shooting me? This is really quite straining."

"Sure." He didn't say more than that, but when she let go of her grip around his mind, he was showing his relief.

"So you did us a service, even if you didn't know it yourself. But we figure we owe you now. We have been trying to decide what we can do for you, and that's why I'm here. You get a one-shot push at someone. Does your landlord refuse to fix the broken heater? Do you want the best tickets at the next game? Is there a vintage comic you always wanted to buy, but the owner wouldn't sell? Need a raise? This is your chance, Mr. Mulder." She gave him a car-salesman grin and waited for his answer.

He gave her the same look a three-legged mouse might give an athletic cat. "How about I ask you some questions before I decide."

"I'll answer. Fire when ready."

"Have you ever pushed someone into killing themselves?"

"No. Not my style. I usually push only to make people do what they would do anyway if they were in a better mood. When the house needs painting. Or the stereo has got to be fixed in time for the party." She smiled again. "I don't kill people. It's not worth it."

"Modell didn't think so."

"As I told you, he was mad. When we found out about him we had a huge discussion about what to do. We didn't want to let him run amok, but we tend to let things well alone. It would be so easy to take advantage of what we can do. Once I start I wouldn't know where to stop. It would be so easy. Clean up the world." Again she gifted him with an all-teeth smile. "Quite like a policeman, actually."

"I see." He looked her up and down again. Something seemed to have occurred to him. "Is there a limit on what you will push for me?"

"I'd prefer if you could keep it halfway ethical. I'd rather not induce a bank teller to give you a million dollars. If only because he would catch the heat for that."

"How about this: I have a lover who tends to be a little egoistic. When I meet him again, I'd like him to do only what I like. He knows what I like, you'd just have to make him do it. Would you do that?"

"Of course! No questions asked." She thought to herself that she would never have figured him for the type to seek help in his love affair from the outside. Not that she minded. "Just tell me when you meet again and I'll be there." After a glance at her watch she rose and smiled at him again. "Your partner should be back in five minutes. Good day, Agent Mulder."

Beatrice Sinclair sat on the park bench and watched the two men out of the corner of her eyes. So this was the elusive lover who didn't like to play nice. He was good-looking in a sleazy way. Dark brown hair, cut very short, and that leather jacket - really quite sexy. <Nice. No wonder Mulder likes him.> They were keeping well apart, she noted. For an indifferent observer, even their body language would not betray that they were intimate. She reached out, very carefully, to touch their minds. Mulder was fast-moving and sharp, excited, but not yet aroused. She left him alone and concentrated on Krycek. Now here was a sort of mind she had not felt before. He sincerely believed that he was ruthless and was only using Mulder. She probed under the bravado and found the small fears and joys he had convinced himself didn't exist anymore. <Not as tough as we thought we were, huh, Alex?> Unlike Mulder, that was how he thought of himself. He was aroused already. She wondered idly how Mulder had gotten mixed up with him, but left the thought for later. Currently he was mistrusting Mulder's explanation why he couldn't go to the room right away. She would have to do something about that.

Beatrice coiled his train of thought away from betrayal and towards Mulder's basic honesty and the fact that he really did have a hard-assed boss. Once he was pointed in that direction, he thought of Skinner and interestingly, the picture that came to his mind was one of Skinner roughly fucking Mulder in the ass, then kicking him out of his office. <Well, now, Alex, what kind of picture is that? Never mind, I can do something with that.> She encouraged the vague feeling of pity for Mulder, and suggested that he make it up to him. <The man is stressed-out. He needs someone to be nice to him. And you, Alex, are exactly the one to do that. Come on, he'll love you for it. You got to fuck him the last couple of times, now's his turn. Be good to him tonight. That's what you've wanted to do for a while, isn't it? Sure it is. Those two hours he'll be gone are perfect, just enough time for some preparation. Maybe a good dinner. Fancy food, candles, hey, you know what he likes.> She felt him embrace the thought, thinking about it, feeling the temptation, the wish to please. She followed it up. <What a beautiful man. So lucky to have him. I have to keep him, be good for him.> His subconscious reacted to that the way she had planned. <I can't lose him. Have to make him come back for more. To love me.>

He was trying to remember what Mulder liked and never realized that she was there.

Krycek was leaving now, walking a little funny. She shot his body an order to calm itself, then rose and went after him as though she was a part of him. As to him, indeed she was.

Finally, they were at the apartment. Beatrice was exhausted as she slipped inside after him. At least Alex didn't require constant pushing anymore. By now he had gotten into the spirit of the thing, choosing the perfect music, setting the table just so. He was actually cooking for Mulder. Beatrice shook her head. Krycek was using every aphrodisiac in the book and a few she hadn't known before. He was going at it as if he was being paid. <Too bad I'm not the center of his attention.>

She ducked past him into the next room. He was still thinking that she was part of the furniture. Good. He would keep believing that all night. Calmly, she settled herself on the couch and put up her legs, keeping a light touch on his mind.

When the door bell rang, she was prepared. Shooting a burst of joy through Alex's mind, she made him almost race to the door. He opened it and asked Mulder inside. They were talking, but she didn't listen to their voices. Their minds spoke a much stronger language. Mulder was very eager to get going and Alex had abandoned every pretense at nonchalance. He wanted very much to please.

It was that way all the time during dinner. The conversation was taking second place behind their need. Beatrice was having a hard time controlling herself. The men were radiating. She had to pull back more and more, so she wouldn't be caught up in their lust. By dessert, Alex was on the verge of begging Mulder to take him. She held him back until the agent leaned back and asked Alex if he would like something else to eat. Within four seconds they were in the bedroom.

All she could feel was overwhelming need, both from Alex and Mulder. They were undressing each other frantically. She gently exerted pressure on Alex to let Mulder take the active part. He resisted the suggestion just long enough to make her wonder, then gave in. She peeled back the mental bandage from the fear of being passive and found another man who had only been using him. But he was not thinking of that now. Without any further encouragement or effort on her part, he opened himself up for Mulder's pleasure. Even if she had not been keeping tabs on their feelings, she would have been able to tell what was going on in that room. The whole enchilada, bedsprings, moans, and then a rather loud scream, that was definitely Alex.

Beatrice grinned to herself at the sounds and retreated from Alex`s conscious mind. She checked in on them occasionally to make sure Mulder didn't go too far. After a few hours, Mulder was getting up with Alex still asleep. Beatrice joined him walking out wordlessly.

Mulder was very satisfied, both with himself and the world. She could feel him radiating.

When she would have left, his hand on her arm stopped her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, trying to ignore the feeling of ashes in her mouth. Without another word, she left him standing in the hallway.

The End