Extreme Measures (4/?)
Extreme Measures (4/?)
Title: Extreme Measures - Chapter Four
Part: 4 of ?
Season: Five - Post The End/Pre Fight the Future
Spoilers: Deep Throat, Tooms, Ascension, Apocrypha, Little Green Men, Memento Mori, Pine Bluff Variant, Folie a Deux, Patient X, The Red and The Black, The End, Fight the Future, any Alex Krycek episode
Rating: NC-17 most definitely
Pairing: Mulder/other, Mulder/Krycek
Warnings: This fic depicts extremely graphic m/m interaction, rape, non-consensual sex, violence and bad language. If any of these subjects offends you, if you are underage or the laws of your country prohibit you from reading such material, then go no further.
Summary: When interests converge, the Consortium goes to extreme and horrifying lengths to destroy Mulder.
Disclaimer: The characters Mulder, Krycek, Scully, Skinner, Cancer Man, Well Manicured Man etc are the properties of CC and other fortunate people. No infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Just an added warning - this one contains a graphic sex scene and still no Alex (his white charger is currently being fed its alfalfa) but I promise that he'll be making an entrance next chapter :)
CHAPTER FOUR - Seduction...
The soft snick of the study door opening brought Fox to an instant awakening, stilling instinctively as a figure crossed the room and switched on the lamp, bathing the room in a warm and gentle glow. He blinked as Brueller approached the couch and sank down to his haunches, eye to eye his new possession, his raw, musky scent pervading the air between them.
Brueller reached out and stroked a hank of hair back from Fox's face, smiling. "You waited up for me, my little pet."
In truth, Fox had been too nervous to approach the bedroom after dark, anticipating his master's imminent arrival. So he had crawled onto the leather couch in the study, finding it oddly comforting. He had promised to close his eyes for just a little while, hoping somehow, as he sank into a restless sleep, that he wouldn't have to wake up...
Crouched down, Brueller seemed content to watch him, study him, so Fox feigned sleepiness, feeling anything but tired, hoping the older man wouldn't notice the tension, hoping Brueller would leave him to sleep on the couch.
But the pretence brought no luck, as Brueller lifted him gently upright, then pulled him to his feet with unmitigated strength. A strong arm slid around Fox's waist before he could protest and he was immediately pulled into his master's hard chest.
"It is all right, Fox," Brueller was saying in a low voice. "Just a few steps and the stairs, and then you can sleep in my bed."
My bed. Those two words alone were enough to make Fox pull away, but his master tightened his grip.
"Steady," Brueller admonished.
Minutes later, both men were stripping, Brueller tiredly and methodically, Fox slowly and reluctantly. Before he had retreated to the study, Daniel had waylaid him and took him up to the bathroom, where he was introduced to the humiliation of an enema. The dark manservant, who had barely uttered a single sentence in Fox's company, seemed to take great delight in explaining the process and its purpose in near pornographic detail.
*If you like it so much,* Fox had longed to say, not knowing where the rebellious words had stemmed from, *why don't you be the fuck toy?*
But the attitude was just a cover for his fear, and the cleansing he had been subjected to in preparation for Brueller's attention served only to heighten that.
Which was why, when Brueller slipped under the covers and held them up in invitation, Fox had to fight the urge to flee. But he saw the firm resolve in his master's eyes and unwillingly obeyed, sliding in to lie rigid beside the older man.
He felt Brueller's arm come up round him, one hard thigh draping over his own, a pair of lips kissing the hollow of his throat. Then, to his surprise, the other man settled back, shifting Fox to a more comfortable position in his arms.
"Sleep, my pet," was all Brueller said, before laying his head down to the pillow.
Distrusting, Fox laid wide-eyed and anxious in his arms for a long time, listening to the other man breathe, sound in slumber. But eventually his traitorous body grew tired, unable to sustain its tension indefinitely. Fox felt the fear slink back into the pit of his stomach and soon he had succumbed to a nervous exhaustion, pulled under a lulling wave of fatigue.
The sky beyond the open curtains was watery and grey, signalling very early morning, as Brueller came out of a restful sleep. A pleasantly warm and heavy body was pressed against his own and he instinctively reached out to cradle the limp form to him. The object of his attentions murmured in sleepy complaint and Brueller slowly raised his head to look upon the lithe male body sharing his bed.
Fox was turned away from him, lying on his front, sprawled negligently in the manner of a man accustomed to sleeping alone. Brueller leaned over the lax body and nuzzled his face into the other man's hair, smelling the scent of soap and something else that was entirely Fox. Up close, the soft strands that tickled his nose were light brown and chestnut, not the russet red of a real fox, but close enough for the comparison.
Steadying himself on one elbow, Brueller lightly skimmed his hand down Fox's bare back, enjoying the feel of skin, the graceful, relaxed muscles, watching carefully to see if his ministrations were waking the man beneath. When his bed partner remained passive, he continued his path beneath the covers and down to the full, round buttocks. He spent a long minute fondling the smoothly muscled globes, enjoying their tightness, and his cock twitched and jerked to life, knowing it wouldn't be long before it was once more sampling the carnal delights of the supine form.
Yet instead of taking by force that which was so deliciously, carelessly displayed before him, Brueller reached over and cupped the back of Fox's raised knees, moving further upwards, towards the sleeping man's chest. Fox shifted and huffed out a sigh in his exhausted sleep, but otherwise didn't stir. Brueller leaned back and reached for the tube he kept in the bedside drawer. He applied the lube to his fingers, slicking them thoroughly, before lowering his hand to slide between Fox's open buttocks, oiling the crease. With his index finger, he teased Fox's opening in short, circular motions, gradually applying more force, before pressing in firmly. His finger was instantly clamped in heat, held by internal muscles and he bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud.
A few moments of skilful probing and Brueller finally gained access to the nub of treasure he had been so diligently hunting. Fox's sleeping face twisted and a soft moan escaped his parted lips, informing the Dutchman he'd found that oh-so important, walnut shaped pleasure centre. He stroked Fox's prostate again, memorising its placing. There would be times when he would require Fox's enjoyment during their couplings and the feel of Brueller's cock sliding over the sensitive gland would go a long way to ensure that.
Fox was moaning more forcefully now, his erection rising towards his abdomen, unconsciously pumping his ass back to feel more of the pleasure the thick finger was inducing. Brueller's own organ had risen long before and was hard and weeping in sympathy, fairly begging for a more pleasing stimulus than bed-sheets alone.
Feeling the hot, eager thrusting movements Fox was making with his hips, Brueller was seriously considering removing his finger and replacing it with his cock, when, with a sudden start, his pet awoke. Fox raised his head, looking flushed and confused, yet continued to grind back against the thickness inside him, wanting that impossible, searing sensation.
"Uh...wh...what are you doing?" he gasped, hoarsely, and Brueller withdrew his finger, smiling at the weak sound of protest Fox made at that.
Instead, the Dutchman pulled Fox over onto his back, stuffing a pillow beneath slim hips and kneeling between the v-shape the long legs created. He slipped his finger back inside his pet easily, searching once more for the telling spot and found it quickly. Fox grunted and threw his head back into the pillows, canting his hips and spreading his thighs wider to allow a surprised Brueller deeper access.
Fox's hand was drifting automatically downwards, but Brueller knocked it away, instead grasping the pretty erection in his own hand, thumbing the slit. Fox cried out at the electric contact and jerked his hips upwards, shuddering, close. Sensing his impending orgasm, Brueller released his pet's cock and grasped his scrotum hard, slowing all movement. With a whimper, Fox subsided, glazed eyes meeting Brueller's, empty of anything except passion and arousal and the damning knowledge that his master held the key to both his pain and his pleasure.
Brueller nodded in satisfaction at that, then returned the pressure to Fox's prostate, adding a second finger beside the first. He felt Fox stiffen in discomfort, then tense as both fingers now worked in concert to bring him to the peak. Fox cried out wordlessly, hands clawing up at the headboard above, scrabbling for purchase, hips undulating in an age-old rhythm.
For all his strength, it was becoming near impossible for Brueller to pin the thrashing body, and he withdrew his fingers once more, waiting for the shuddering Fox to subside, before beginning again, this time with slower, surer movements.
He repeated the cycle a third time, finding it increasingly harder to ignore his own throbbing cock as he lavished attention on the shaking, sweating body spread so wantonly before him. Fox's eyes were wide and wild, black with desperation, the wet lips parted to sigh out his pleasure and readiness.
"Beg me, my pet," Brueller commanded, roughly, squeezing Fox's cock. "Beg me."
"Please," Fox gasped, sobbing, incoherent, lost in sensation, completely undone. "Please...please please please..."
At the pleading words, the broken tone, Brueller groaned and withdrew his fingers completely, ignoring the disappointed sigh from Fox, assuring himself that his eager pet would soon be filled once more. Hands shaking at the overly sensitive touch, he anointed his bare, straining cock with more lubrication, not bothering with a condom this time. He knew Fox was clean and preferred the intimacy of feeling flesh within flesh, rather than sensation through a sterile sheath of rubber.
Bending down, Brueller grasped the back of Fox's smooth thighs, levered them down towards the heaving chest and guided his cock towards the tight hole that was exposed.
Fox gasped and arched, this time in pain, as Brueller thrust firmly inside. His pet's erection began to flag a little, the penetration not as easy as Brueller would have liked or hoped. Yet when his cock nudged against Fox's hungry spot, the younger man's flared to life once more. Fox cried out, tossing his head in negation at the twin sensations of pain and pleasure, arms outflung, hands fisting the sheets as his prostrate was stroked again and again, this time by something huge and heavy and unrelenting.
Without further preamble, Brueller began to fuck the spread, begging body in earnest. They were both grunting now, rhythmic, animalistic sounds, fighting for release, and Brueller bared his teeth in victory as Fox began to pump his hips back greedily, wanting more, his long legs slipping around the Dutchman's back, muscled thighs gripping the older man's waist.
Brueller reached under and grasped one of Fox's buttocks for more leverage, planting the other hand at the side of Fox's head and leaning forward to plunder the ripe mouth, thrusting continuously. The younger man was crying out his pleasure in a long stream of gibberish that Brueller hungrily swallowed, watching Fox's pupils dilate to an unseeing, obsidian black. Brueller released his hold to reach between their joined bodies, stroking Fox's erection in counterpoint to his movements, fisting the flesh with ruthless determination.
The violence of the coupling was brief, but explosive. Fox came first, screaming, his body tight and thrumming, spilling his seed over Brueller's hand. He arched beneath the other man, the uncontrolled action allowing Brueller's thick cock to thrust deeper inside. Brueller roared as he was gripped hard by internal muscles, and he climaxed with the molten depths, dimly aware that his property had fallen limply back, thighs slack around Brueller's waist. Brueller continued to thrust until the last of his spasms had died down, then raised himself from Fox's sweaty chest to study the utterly drained figure lying unconscious on the bed beneath.
Pressing needs eventually drew his scrutiny away, and Brueller reluctantly shifted and pulled himself out, leaving the bed to clean up and find a washcloth to bathe his pet. When he returned, he set about his task, then moved Fox into a more comfortable position. Slipping back into the warm bed, he stroked a hand down the sleek chest of his prize and licked away then thin line of sweat that had beaded along the younger man's hooked, upper lip.
The sensitivity and raw passion he had around within the now exhausted man astounded Brueller. According to the reports he had access to, Fox Mulder was, for the most part, sexually inactive, taken to watching pornographic movies rather than accept anyone, man or woman, into his bed.
It was an offensive waste, for what the reports hadn't mentioned was a man too beautiful for words as he came undone with lust and wild abandon. It made Brueller's limp, satiated cock stir with anticipation at unlocking the potential stored within the long, slender frame.
And almost made Brueller regret the previous night. What a joy it would have been for him to have mounted a willing, begging Fox then, his pet pleading to be filled by his master's cock, hot and eager and so desperate to please.
But though pleasantly diverting, it had been a quick and determined requirement. Dominating the younger man through forced sexual intercourse had laid out the foundations for their relationship and future bed games. It wouldn't do for Fox to think he had some say in such matters, and Brueller was certain it would have worried his pet unduly if he had dallied in taking his acquisition's anal virginity.
Lying back among the pillows, Brueller placed a possessive hand on his Fox's warm, unblemished thigh and allowed a shallow sleep to claim him.
The dark haired little girl is shrieking in rage, angry petulance painted across her delicate features.
A flash of lights, red and blue, a brilliant glare of white, a moment of time that seemed to stand still. Fox! Her cry is high and afraid.
*Frantic, he wants to pull her back from the light, but he can't move, can only stand there with a gun huge in his small hands and watch as they take...*
*A face, old and grey, was peering down at him with a sneering contempt and Fox wanted to smash it, strike it away but couldn't move...couldn't get up...*
"Easy, my pet, lie back. Lie back."
Fox woke with a start, chest heaving, blinking in alarm as the last vestiges of the nightmare lingered, then dissipated in a flash. He felt lips press against his forehead, a hand smoothing back his tousled hair.
"You were having a bad dream, sweet Fox," an accented voice murmured. "But you are safe here, with me."
The vision of a dark haired little girl vanished along with the fog of sleep and Fox met the other's eyes with a shadowed gaze, lashes lowered. He couldn't think of a single thing to say this man who had so skilfully reduced him to a lump of quivering, pleading flesh. All too easily, Fox could recall begging, for Brueller to fuck him, take him, do anything but stop. There had been some pain mingled with the pleasure, but despite it, or maybe because of it, the resulting sex had been...incredible.
Brueller was kissing the side of his throat now, small, cherishing nips against stubbled skin that made Fox squirm. He was in a submissive position, neck bared, the younger, weaker animal capitulating to the stronger, alpha male. Brueller drew back the sheets, then lowered his head and suckled one nipple, caressing the other with rough fingers. Fox gasped aloud, the sound incongruous in the silence of the bedroom, and Brueller chuckled, looking up.
"You like that, little Fox," he said, with an assurance born of intimate knowledge. "I have already discovered many places, but I am confident there are more." He licked at the downy hair on Fox's torso, unable to suppress a grin as that elicited another gasp. "And I will find them all."
It was a dark promise that made Fox shudder in both anticipation and apprehension. The sex had been hot and hard - anything more than that and he was certain he'd spontaneously combust.
So it came as something of both a relief and a disappointment when Brueller left off his seductive mapping and climbed out of the bed, holding out his hand to the object of his study. Feeling foolish, Fox took the proffered hand and allowed his master to lead him into the bathroom, shivering in the sudden coolness of the room.
Minutes later, Brueller had insistently herded Fox into the shower and was soaping and sponging the long limbs, taking his time, lingering on genitals, sliding down the crease between his buttocks with care and attention.
Afterwards, when Brueller offered Fox the sponge, he took it with only a shadow of hesitation, of embarrassment, then set about reciprocating his master's gestures. He traced the muscled, toned body, allowing himself for the first time to study the powerful physique, the strong pectorals, the thick, tanned arms.
He could feel Brueller's gaze on him as he worked, charting the lines and curves of his master's body. The hardening cock leapt in his hands as he soaped and cleaned its length, amazed how large it seemed, even when semi-quiescent. The balls beneath drew up slightly at his touch and Brueller let out a low moan, making Fox shift nervously.
Did he want this, want his master aroused? His choice was taken from him as he was clasped to Brueller, who hungrily claimed his mouth.
His master eventually broke the kiss, instead tongued Fox's lips. "I want," he began, slowly, "to fuck these."
His tongue made another sweep before he released Fox and gently pushed the younger man downwards. The tiles were hard on Fox's knees and he looked up at the towering figure, Brueller's cock thickening directly before his eyes.
Fox licked his lips, suddenly tense and wary, and was drawn away from the engorged organ as Brueller cupped his chin and raised his head.
"I know you've never done this before," his master was saying, not unkindly. "Take your time, pet. I want to enjoy this." He ran a thumb over Fox's swollen mouth, pulling at the generous lower lip, before pressing inside.
Fox sucked on the thumb, instinctively swirling his tongue over the crescent shaped nail, the callused knuckle, as it slowly pumped back and forth between his lips. With a curse, Brueller pulled out, clenching his fist to gain control of his body. A moment later, he looked down at Fox, expectantly.
Fox closed his eyes, then opened them, focusing on the swaying cock before him. Brueller shifted his legs further apart and waited. There was no sound but the rushing water, cascading over Brueller's shoulders, sluicing down his chest and streaking his erection.
Curious, Fox reached up to grasp the shaft, using the soft pads on his fingers to slide up its length. This was what had been inside him, twice now. Brueller made a small noise, and that encouraged Fox to boldness. He could do this. He used his other hand to steady himself against his master, then bent his head, licking experimentally at the tip of the weeping cock, tasting soap and water and salt, a not entirely pleasant combination of flavours. Brueller hissed and threw out a hand, splaying his palm against the glass screen and Fox gave another, stronger lick, his free hand moving down to circle the base of the shaft.
Pausing for a moment, he looked up to see Brueller watching him, an expression of something not quite pain flitting across the strong, flushed features. Fox bent back down to his task, thumbed the milky slit, took a deep breath, then slid his lips over the head. Brueller let out a small grunt and his hips thrust forward. Choking, unschooled, Fox pulled back, teeth scraping lightly.
Almost instantly, Brueller's erection began to dip. Fox ran his fingers underneath, trailing up the large vein from base to crown. He cursed his own inability and clumsiness, wondering what Brueller might do, wondering if his master would be angry.
Instead, the older man's erection thickened once again and, feeling more confident, Fox retook the head in his mouth, careful to keep his teeth sheathed. This time, Brueller was able to restrain himself, and the act grew easier for Fox. He had trouble taking the entire length of the hot organ into his mouth and throat, but Brueller appeared content to watch the play of his lips over the shaft, grunting above him in satisfaction and encouragement.
"Verdomd...you are...good, Fox...ja, like that...like that..." There was heavy, harsh panting, the heel of Brueller's hand thumping against the shower screen in a rhythm he denied his hips.
Fox felt the cock in his mouth strain for release, and he peered up at Brueller, unsure what to do, not wanting the other man to come in his mouth, wondering if he could finish by hand. As if sensing his hesitation, Brueller reached down and cupped the back of Fox's head, holding him steadily in place, beginning tiny thrusts into the moist warmth.
Struggling now, Fox clamped his hands on his master's muscled thighs, feeling them tense, solid steel beneath his fingers, and knew that, for all his strength, Brueller was being gentle with him. Then the older man cried out in climax and was erupting into his mouth, warm, salty come spurting over the back of his tongue. Fox gagged, had no choice but to attempt to swallow the milky liquid, and gagged again. Brueller released him, pulling out, and Fox slumped, crouched naked, spitting onto the tiles what he could, feeling bile burning in the pit of his stomach.
Brueller was stroking his hair, his back, petting. "That was very good Fox. A fantasy of mine come true. You did well."
Then a cool draft entered the stall as Brueller strode out, leaving Fox heaving on the floor.
His little pet was silent and subdued when he eventually rejoined Brueller in the steamy bathroom, refusing to meet his master's eyes. Brueller sighed, pulling Fox close to him, the wet frame pressed reluctantly against his robed body, and kissed the sultry, sulky lips. In time, Fox would come to accept he was there for Brueller's pleasure, not their mutual enjoyment or consent.
And too he would learn, the Dutchman promised himself, recalling the erotic scene in the shower. With a mouth like his, Fox was destined to become a consummate talent at that particular art. If the play in the shower was anything to go by, Brueller wondered with some amusement whether he would survive the experience.
His newly shaven jaw scraped against the roughness of Fox's and he pulled back to examine the face before him. "You need a shave, Fox," he said, running a finger down one fine cheekbone to the dark, sexy mole. "And it will be my pleasure."
Brueller patted the top of the counter until Fox hopped obediently up, chuckling at the hiss of discomfort his pet made, while quietly envying the younger man's lissom agility. He parted his white, towelling robe, wanting to feel the closeness of skin as he moved to stand between Fox's smooth, damp thighs.
Taking the thick, shaving brush in one hand and Fox's chin in the other, Brueller began to lather a face Michael Angelo could have wept over, lingering over each caress of the brush. He suppressed a small, knowing smile when Fox's cock twitched against his bared leg.
Whatever incipient arousal Brueller had produced in the younger man with such by-play, it was abruptly quenched with the emergence of the straight edged razor. Fox's eyes widened in alarm when he realised his master fully intended to wield the blade himself.
"For my pleasure, Fox," Brueller husked. "For me." He stared hard into Fox's eyes, until they had delivered the silent acquiescence he was seeking. "Hold still," and he took a careful grip, "hold very still."
The sound of the scraping razor was loud, cutting through Brueller's breathing and Fox's lack of the same. Wiping the blade, Brueller returned to the beautiful features. He was very careful, for it wouldn't do to mar his pet's looks, but he couldn't suppress a jolt of satisfaction as Fox bared his throat ever so slightly for Brueller's attention.
Moving his head back, Brueller studied the braced, lanky form, the wide-spread legs, the unabashed display of so much firm yet succulent flesh. Long, gold-tipped lashes covered the bright, hazel eyes as Fox watched his master from lowered lids, gritting his teeth at every swipe of the blade, yet holding brave and steady
Trust was something Brueller rarely practised with his toys, preferring to keep them off balance and wary, eager to please at the slightest sign of their master's displeasure. But none of them had been quite like Fox Mulder. Younger, prettier, but incomparable to the wild and passionate creature that he had unleashed in his Fox the night before, an experience he was determined to repeat.
So while Brueller might have nicked the skin in the past, not enough to scar, just sufficient to hurt and bleed a little, now he found himself refraining from the mind games he usually played so assiduously. He wanted Fox to look on him with faith and desire as he reaped the bounty of the younger man's body..
After what seemed an age of careful strokes, intimate caresses given through the sharp blade of a razor, he finished the task, reaching round to possessively cup his pet's bare buttocks and pull their bodies close. "Breathe, Fox," he suggested, allowing a humorous note to creep into his voice. "Before you turn blue."
Fox smiled weakly, face still dotted with shaving foam, and Brueller bent forward to lick off a fleck, kneading the flesh under his hands as he did so, luxuriating in the warmth and velvet softness of the skin pressed to his.
It was with reluctance that he pulled away, stealing a final taste of the sinful lips, before heading into the bedroom. Delaying his pleasure would only make it that much sweeter. He knew there were those who chose to fuck like rabbits with their newly acquired playthings, had often done so himself, but too quickly the appeal was lost, the thrill dissipating, and the toys, once so desired, ended up damaged or discarded.
Growing older, wiser, Brueller had reined in his considerable libido and chosen a course of self-discipline and mild abstention, favouring long, drawn out encounters to mindless, endless fucking, though he would enjoy that on occasion too. And instead of diminishing his enjoyment, rather it would be enhanced, intensifying the pleasure, the slow but sure conquest.
And Brueller very much wanted to relish the time he spent with his Fox, the man over whom he had unthinkingly, uncaringly squandered so much in order to possess. Of course, there would come a point when Brueller tired of even Fox, for there were only so many delightful ways in which one could partake of such a companion, beautiful and rare though he was.
But Brueller hoped that day was a long way off, for he had many plans for Fox. What a delight it would be to display such a companion on his arm, secure in the knowledge that Fox was his alone to touch, to play with. And too he would enjoy the envy of others, especially when it became known that his luscious little pet possessed all the rutting instincts of an alley cat in heat.
As the Dutchman began to dress, he frowned at the sound of Fox brushing his teeth with fierce determination, then sighed and released his disappointment. In time, his pet would learn.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
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