Heated Moments by phyre
Title: 'Heated Moments' X/F M/K.
Rating: 'R'. It could be disturbing to those with delicate sensibilities.
Disclaimer: Not mine. CC & Co. Pity.
Archive: 'The Basement', 'TER/MA', 'Ratfic Library', 'All Things Rat', 'WWOMB' and 'Kingdom of Slash'. All others, please ask so I know where to visit.
Special thanks go out to Karen-Leigh and Dr. Ruthless for
some lovely audiencing. I know I said I wouldn't do it ... I
'Heated Moments' by phyre
Krycek stood in the darkened room painfully aware that he had lost control of the situation, the muzzle of a gun held firmly against his right temple brought that point home with alarming clarity. He tongue snaked out and licked at the accumulated sweat above his upper lip. Oh yeah. I fucked up good this time. He felt Mulder's breath, moist and warm and listened while quietly whispered words tickled his ear, raising the fine golden hairs on the back of his neck.
"Ever have the urge to lose control, Alex? To just chuck it all away and let someone else take the reins? Ever felt so helpless that you were forced to go against the collective scream of a thousand thoughts in your head and trust the one person you hated so wholly?"
"No." Krycek tried for the right amount of resolution in his voice but fell short.
"And yet, that's exactly what you're doing right now."
"But I don't hate you, Mulder. We've ... for Christ's sake Mulder; your cock has been down my throat and up my ass. I certainly don't *hate* you. What's this all about? Why the gun? You knew I was going to be here tonight. What gives?" He hoped the anger and indignation in his voice hid the apprehension.
"Don't confuse animal sex with anything that has emotion. And you will, Alex, you'll hate me. Before this night is over you'll wish me dead a hundred times and swear some sort revenge against me," Mulder answered. "The gun? Because I know you. I know you won't go down without a fight. It's just my insurance against a dirty one, not that I don't enjoy mixing it up with you from time to time. However, tonight I have neither the time nor the patience."
"Fuck you, Mulder!"
"Later, Alex. After you've had a chance to heal."
"What the hell does--"
The odor of chloroform was the last thing Krycek remembered before surrendering to an inky darkness.
"Alex? Alex can you hear me? Time to wake up, now."
Mulder's voice cut through the haze that clouded Krycek's mind, scraping over his frayed nerve endings and dragging him back from beneath the heavy blanket of sleep. He awoke to find himself tied on Mulder's bed; naked from the waist down, his legs splayed obscenely. He looked around briefly, then up to Mulder's face and to an unknown man behind him. He shivered. Oh fuck me, what's he up to? His heart started pounding wildly within the confines of his chest. Struggling against his fear, he listened to Mulder's quiet voice.
"You do know that I own you, right Alex? Always have, always will. You can leave me, you can lay with someone else but I'll always own you. Got that? You're mine. And after tonight, anyone you fuck will know it. He may not know it's *me* and he may not care, but he'll know you belong to someone."
"Jesus, Mulder. What ... what the hell are you doing?"
Using his eyes and a minute nod of his head, Mulder signaled the expressionless man to move.
Krycek's eyes darted from Mulder to the unknown man, the object in his hand, then back to Mulder. He smelled heat and a sudden realization dawned on him.
"Jesus no! Stop him, Mulder. Don't do this. Don't do it!"
Cries of pain filled the room. The barely there scent of burning flesh was intoxicating, making Mulder's eyes shine as he held Krycek's head, cradling it against his hip, his fingers running the length of straining tendons as they stood out against the line of Krycek's throat. Watching the sweat trickle down his captive's face, mingling with freshly shed tears, melding their salty sweetness into some heady musky scent that he would remember until he drew his last breath, Mulder smiled. Inhaling deeply, he savored the scent of fear and waited for it to change into the scent of acceptance.
When it was over, after the cries of anger and pain had subsided, Mulder looked at the marking. Just an angry blistered red smear on the inside of Krycek's right thigh, but when it healed it would bear the initials 'FM'.
Looking into Krycek's eyes he whispered 'mine' and gently kissed the open mouth, not altogether surprised at the force of the answering kiss.
~... and they danced like angels
cast out for being lovers...~