Actions

Work Header

Priorities

Work Text:

 

Priorities by Czeri

AUTHOR: Czeri
TITLE: Priorities
THANKS: to Jennie and Dr. Ruthless for quick but wonderful beta.
NOTE: Anson Greene is an unstable cop-killer Nick played in "Moloney".
ARCHIVE: Sure!
FEEDBACK: You can contact me at:
SUMMARY: A Fight Club story written for the Monday Challenge.


Mulder was having a really bad day. A day so horrible that the sight of Krycek skulking in an alley near the bank where Mulder was headed didn't even surprise him: Krycek was always popping up when the last thing on Mulder's mind was dealing with the scum-sucking rat.

Still, if he ignored Krycek now, he was sure he'd spend the rest of his life wondering what vital information he might have missed, so he might as well follow the dark figure into the side street and save himself a lot of second-guessing.

Sighing, Mulder did just that, only to be welcomed by a gun pointing right between his eyes the moment he turned the corner.

"Hello, Mulder." Krycek whispered in that husky voice of his. "You wouldn't happen to be going into that bank, would you?"

"What's it to you?" Mulder snarled at him, furious that he'd let himself be so easily overpowered.

"I have a very good reason for advising you against visiting this particular bank, at least today." Krycek answered, staring at Mulder with odd intensity.

"What makes you think I'd ever take YOUR advice, you fucking rat!? What reason?! What are you raving about now?!" Mulder raged, even as his curiosity was piqued.

"If you go to that bank, you're going to die." Krycek answered simply. "I know because I've seen it happen some 80 times now." Krycek's attention wavered as his voice filled suddenly with world-weariness.

Mulder didn't have a clue what the insane bastard was talking about, but he figured he'd have ample opportunity to question him later and now took advantage of Krycek's momentary distraction to kick the gun out of his hand and attack the infuriating traitor.

However, instead of giving him the instant satisfaction of pounding into warm muscle, all of the blows he directed at Krycek only encountered air, as if the man knew where they were going to land long before Mulder himself did and was gracefully avoiding each and every one with disconcerting ease. Panting with exertion Mulder redoubled his efforts in a vain attempt to get a handful of the strangely elusive bastard and somehow pin him to the wall, or at least land one solid blow. His growing frustration, however, was not helping his coordination at all.

"You're not gonna listen to me before you're done, are you." Krycek sounded defeated even though he was still successfully dodging Mulder's blind charge. "No matter how many times we do it, you always insist on pounding me through the wall before I can make you listen. Fine, then. You can have your wicked way with me if that's what it takes. I don't even know why I bother saving you, you self-righteous asshole."

Mulder didn't hear most of Krycek's bitter monologue, caught as he was in his futile attempts to hit the other man, but Krycek's next actions certainly made him pay attention: Krycek backed away a step, pushed down his black jeans, and clung to the brick wall giving the agent a great sight of his cute, round ass.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Mulder knew he sounded hysterical, but he didn't particularly care right at that moment.

Krycek sighed and looked at the spluttering agent over his shoulder: "Normally you hit me, scream at me, hit me some more, rub against me, tear off my pants and fuck me raw. What I'm offering here is a shortcut that'd leave me with a lot less bruises and you with your knuckles a lot less sore. Take it or leave it." Krycek's tone implied he was dealing with a half-wit instead of an Oxford graduate.

Was that "The Twilight Zone" theme Mulder was hearing right now? He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by the spooky turn this Monday was taking, not after six years in the X files, but this... this wasn't your regular case of weirdness. It was more like Mulder's late night fantasies, actually, and those had never before become real.

"You're gonna fuck me or what?" The impatience in Krycek's voice broke Mulder out of his passivity, and the agent pounced, deciding to leave worrying for later.

Up close Krycek's ass was even more beautiful than from a few feet away, smooth and firm, but pliant enough to make rubbing his aching groin against it an unforgettable experience. Yet, it'd be a shame to lose such a golden opportunity by simply rubbing himself to completion. So Mulder quickly unfastened his own pants, grabbed his throbbing cock and aimed it at the puckered hole between those luscious cheeks.

"80 times we do it and not even once did it cross your mind to check if I'm ready for you before pushing in!" Krycek gasped even as Mulder's cock slid into his pre-lubed asshole with only token resistance. "If it didn't hurt so much, I wouldn't have bothered with making it so easy for you, you bastard."

"Mmmph... What?" Mulder found it rather difficult to concentrate under the circumstances. Had Krycek just called him a bastard? What did he know about it? Christ but the tight velvet heat surrounding his dick was heavenly. What was it he wanted to ask Krycek? Oh, yeah, his parentage... Much much better than his own hand...

"What do you know about my parents?" he finally managed to groan, instantly losing all interest in the answer as Krycek's muscles suddenly spasmed around him, sending a jolt of pure bliss through his body.

Krycek just moaned loudly, apparently also enjoying whatever Mulder had just done.

Encouraged, Mulder repeated his last action, again thrusting into the pliant body at the exact angle required for his cock to brush against Krycek's prostate.

"Fuck!" They both bucked this time, overcome by the intense pleasure.

"Do it again!" Krycek's voice was a living thing, stroking all of Mulder's sweet spots at once.

"Mmf... no problem!" Mulder gasped and did exactly as he'd been asked, something that would have surprised Krycek no end if he'd had any presence of mind left to notice.

Feeling his orgasm near, Mulder rubbed his face against Krycek's sweaty neck. He wanted to leave some sign of his possession of that beautiful body, show his ownership, but when he pulled back Krycek's collar, having decided on a bite mark at the nape of Krycek's neck, he found that someone had beaten him to it.

Infuriated beyond belief by the sight of the fresh imprint of someone else's teeth on Krycek's ivory flesh, Mulder started to slam into his whore of a lover with force that soon had Krycek dancing on his cock and screaming his joy.

The violent spasms of Krycek's orgasm milked the pleasure out of Mulder too, and soon the agent flooded Krycek's clenching ass with his seed, jerking in the throes of his own orgasm.

"Now will you listen?" Krycek panted, moving away and pulling up his jeans.

"Listen to what?" Mulder zipped his own pants and leaned heavily against the wall, not trusting his knees to hold him up much longer.

"To what I've been trying to tell you all along. You can't go to that bank or you'll die. There's a man inside with ten pounds of semtex strapped to him and a bold plan to blackmail the bank manager into opening the safe for him. The man looks like me, but his name is Anson, and he's not very stable. If you go there and attack him, he will blow the bank up. If you go there and try to reason with him, he will blow the bank up. Fuck, he will blow the bank up if anyone so much as looks at him suspiciously."

"And you really expect me to buy this?!" Mulder asked incredulously. "A story about your evil twin robbing the bank?!"

"He's not my twin!" Krycek protested. "He's my... uhm..."

"Your what?!" Mulder pushed, enjoying Krycek's discomfort.

"My boyfriend, if you really need to know." Krycek mumbled with his head lowered.

"Your what?!!?" Mulder started to laugh. He couldn't help it, the idea of Alex Krycek, the international spy and ruthless assassin, having a *boyfriend* was just too ludicrous. And an insane boyfriend at that, one that looked like Krycek. "Is April Fool's Day early this year?"

"I don't judge your life choices and I ask you not to judge mine." Now Krycek sounded pissed. "Just listen to what I'm telling you: You. Are. Going. To. Die. If. You. Enter. That. Bank. Which word don't you understand?"

"And you know that because I've already died 80 times?" with much effort Mulder managed to stifle his laughter, only an occasional choked giggle escaping him. "So if you know exactly what is going to happen, why are you trying to stop me from going to the bank, instead of trying to convince your boyfriend not to rob it in the first place?" Mulder found himself getting sucked in by the idea: a time-loop, one day repeating itself over and over again, with only one person aware of it. He didn't think there had ever been an X file like that, and suddenly he really wanted to investigate it.

"We need the money." Krycek was again looking uncomfortable.

"OK, let me get this straight. You want me, a federal agent, to let your boyfriend rob a bank and get away with it, cause you need the money? Am I correct?!"

"Well, it doesn't sound that good if you put it that way..." for the first time this morning Krycek sounded uncertain.

"You're unbelievable, Krycek! During these alleged 80 times we had this conversation, did I ever agree?!"

"Well, no, but you never let me tell you that much before, either." Krycek was positively squirming. "You will go into that bank even though it'd cost you your life, won't you?"

"You're goddamn right I will!"

"You don't leave me any choice, then. I've done my best to save you but you're just too big a prick to listen. Goodbye." The last thing Mulder saw was the black, deadly shape of a gun miraculously appearing in Krycek's hand, and then there was nothing.


"Why doesn't anyone stop me? It's not my fault. They should stop me."
      STUART ALAN JONES
"Out of a cloud of dust, Krycek will walk."
      DEAN HAGLUND
"Oh, you're Nick Lea. I've heard you'll do anything."
      JOHN NEVILLE