“How is our prisoner doing?” he asked, not really directing the
question at the two sweat-soaked officers in the room. Crossing to
stand in front of Krycek, he couldn’t help but smile.
“Pretty good, Mulder,” the prisoner harshly replied. He turned
his head and spit a mouthful of blood. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m always in a good mood around here.”
Krycek’s eyes turned to cold emeralds. “That’s nice to know.
Don’t you ever get bored of this?”
“Not when it involves scum like you.” Turning to the officers,
he added, “Did you learn anything?”
“No,” one man said breathless. “Dumb fucker won’t talk.”
Mulder smiled an evil grin. “Take a break. Let me have a go
at it.”
The response was quick. “Sure. Take all the time in the
world.”
Before the second officer left, he added, “Maybe you know a way
to break him.”
“Alone at last.” Mulder ran his fingertips down the smooth
skin of the prisoner’s chest, lingering over the ugly colors that
marred the dark skin. He watched in fascination as the stomach grew
taunt and sunk inwards, exposing ribs. The frame in front of him was
too thin to belong to a murderer. ‘Must not be getting enough to
eat, poor thing,’ he mused.
“So what do you plan on doing with me?” Krycek asked,
apparently hiding the fear in his voice. Mulder was intimidating;
everyone knew that. Including Mulder.
“Not with you, Krycek. To you.” Ever so brutally, he squeezed
a rosy nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A delicious groan was
heard.
Red head spread to Mulder’s cock. He always felt a sexual
charge from interrogating prisoners, especially ones as beautiful and
dangerous as Alex Krycek. There was something exhilarating about
watching a man writhe in pain, even moreso if he started to cry. If
Krycek started to cry, Mulder knew he would come in his pants. It was
the delicate breaking of a strong will, and he thrived on it.
His hand moved against the prisoner’s groin, feeling the cock
harden from his ministrations. Green eyes, dilated with shock and need
locked on his hazel. “You like it when I touch you,” Mulder said with
a smile. Deft fingers opened the jeans, freeing the newly erect cock
from the fabric. As Mulder slid his palm up and down the shaft,
Krycek’s breathing sped and came out in broken gasps. Soon, he was
bucking into Mulder’s hand, causing the chains to rattle.
Mulder dropped his grin and leaned into his prisoner. Soft
lips captured the opened ones and kissed hard. The metallic taste of
blood rushed all over Mulder’s tongue, making him tingle. Their
tongues clashed together as his hand moved faster. With a loud groan,
Krycek came all over Mulder’s hand.
He pulled away, noting the surprised yet sated look on Krycek’s
face. “Was it good for you?” He pushed the softening cock back behind
the zipper and closed the jeans.
Krycek licked his lips, found his voice. “Why. . .why did you
do that?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mulder stepped to the table in the
corner of the room. Inside a drawer under the table, he kept a few
items of his own. He removed two bottles and a short, braided, leather
whip. Sliding the whip slowly across his face, as if caressing, he
said, “Isn’t this pretty? I bought it a few years ago from one of
those sex shops on Wicker Street. Works wonders. Breaks the skin but
leaves the most beautiful marks.” He walked behind his prisoner, his
eyes rapt watching the man begin to shake. The whip struck, forcing
out a groan and creating a short, red welt upon the colorful skin.
Mulder stopped, smiled, then began flicking his wrist back and
forth with speed, criss-crossing the back with marks. Krycek hardly
made a sound, but the rattling chains from his trembling was all Mulder
needed at that point. Mulder was rock hard, almost praying his
prisoner could keep quiet. One cry and it would be over. And he had
so much more he wanted to do.
When he was finished with the back, Mulder moved to the front.
His beautiful prisoner’s face was lined with pain, eyes clamped shut,
lips curled over his teeth and closed. Beads of sweat ran across the
brow, falling down like teardrops. Fingertips reached up to touch the
face, taking water drops away from the flushed, hot skin. Krycek’s
eyes shot open. The green was covered with unshed tears. They
were hurt, conveying what Mulder knew was fear and anger. The
intensity almost made him lose it, but he held back and continued.
Mulder flayed the skin of Krycek’s chest, creating the same
crossed welts that marked the back. A cry elicited when the whip cut
across a nipple. Mulder sucked in breath, willed himself to calm, and
continued.
By the time red gashes covered the prisoner’s chest, Mulder was
ready to lose it. Eyes drunk in the sight: crimson blood drooling from
the skin, sweat dampening all body hair, a beautiful face crushed in
lines of extreme pain. And that smell, pure fear, was sweet and
pungent and just enough to make Mulder grab the two bottles from the
table.
Mulder quickly unzipped his prisoner’s jeans and slid them down
muscled legs to rest at the chained ankles. He eyed the exposed cock,
already beginning to harden again. Quickly, he moved around back, and
freed his own hard cock from his pants. He was completely ready now.
One bottle was thick lubricant. Mulder squeezed a generous
amount on his fingers, then spread the gel between Krycek’s ass. His
prisoner gasped and sucked in air. Another dollop of lubricant, and
Mulder pressed his finger into the small, puckered opening. He
maneuvered in and out, raking over the sensitive prostate, which made
Krycek buck forewords and cry out. As he continued to stretch the
opening, he leaned towards his prisoner’s ear. His eyes caught glimpse
of the very hard cock that stood out from the thick curls of hair at
the groin. “Do you like this?” he asked, low and husky.
“Yes.” The reply was breathy, thick with arousal.
“You like when I do this to you?”
“Yes.”
Krycek cried out again, which prompted Mulder to add a second
finger. The sweet scent of arousal was all over the air in the small
room. Mulder grinned, knowing exactly what he was doing. Krycek
wanted him, that he knew. Some had even suggested that Krycek was in
love with him, which Mulder did not doubt. The way the prisoner moved
back against his fingers gave him reason to replace the fingers with
his large, erect cock. It slipped in easily. Krycek groaned in
pleasure.
Fully embedded up to the root, Mulder pulled the cap off the
second bottle. This bottle, appropriately labeled “Lemonsalt” would
make this the experience Mulder had always wanted, dreamed of,
fantasized about, ever since he met Alex Krycek over four years ago.
After he learned that Krycek was a murderer, and believed in
everything that Mulder was against. Fingers shivered as he dripped the
stinging liquid over the open wounds.
Krycek screamed. “What are you doing?”
Mulder rubbed the liquid all over the bleeding back. “Shh,
Alex, shh.” He knew using Krycek’s first name, as an endearment, would
be the prisoner’s undoing. From where he stood, he could see the once
erect cock shrinking, softening, trying to pull into the body. Good.
Krycek was not enjoying this.
Mulder stood still, trying his hardest not to move. This was
not when he wanted to come. The right time would be very soon. He
twisted the broken flesh between his fingers, causing the other man to
wince away. But being impaled on Mulder gave Krycek no room for
escape. His body soon trembled. The muscles in his ass clenched
tightly around Mulder’s cock.
“Please, Mulder, please, stop.” The voice was shaky, but he
still was not crying.
Mulder pinched the flesh, rubbing the Lemonsalt deeper into the
gashes. His prisoner screamed again. As Mulder milked the carved
back, he pulled out and thrust back deeply. The sweet aroma of
Kyrcek’s arousal was gone from the room, replaced with the sickeningly
tender smell of horror and fear. So much fear that Mulder was drowning
in it. As when the first sob escaped Krycek’s lips, Mulder’s head
started to swirl.
The man under him was shivering horribly, making audible
weeping noises as Mulder’s fingers continued to work on the scars. His
hands moved to Krycek’s chest, to rub the Lemonsalt into those wounds.
The sounds his prisoner was making drove him insane. So beautiful, so
tortured, so thrilling. This was the single most wonderful experience
in his entire life. Every fantasy fulfilled in this. Every anger,
every pleasure, manifested itself in this single act of sexual
activity. Reeling in the sounds, the feelings, the thoughts, Mulder
came hard, shooting his thick white load into Krycek’s ass. Marking
him, dirtying him. Possessing him.
Mulder pulled out, feeling the body of his prisoner go limp.
He cleaned himself off, his cock and his hands, then closed his pants.
He pulled up Krycek’s jeans as well, then crossed to the front of his
prisoner.
Still swimming from orgasm and the pretty sobbing coming from
the man hung from the ceiling, Mulder said, “Now talk.”
And not surprisingly, traitorous words began spilling from
Krycek’s lips. About himself, about the Cause, about the others, about
their plans for the future. Mulder had broken him, and now everything
was coming out at once. All about the resistance, about how they
planned to take over the government, their secret headquarters, their
secret lists. He sobbed out names of the other leaders, Dana and
Walter and the men known only as The Lone Gunmen, even Jack, who was
one of the biggest leaders of the Cause, who Mulder only knew as the
man who smoked a lot of cigarettes. And when he was finished betraying
his friends and betraying the Cause, Krycek dropped his chin to his
chest and wailed out his frustrations.
Just then, the two officers returned to the room. “Did you get
it all?” Mulder asked them.
“Yeah, all on tape.”
Mulder smiled. Hidden microphone, turned on with just a simple
switch on the table. He knew neither of the officers would mention how
the information was received, and besides, nobody would believe them
without video proof anyway. Who among the American People would
believe that Fox Mulder, head Investigator for the President and all
American Armies was just a sadistic bastard who loved torturing his
prisoner’s with pain and sex? The thought made him laugh.
“Start rounding them up,” he said to the officers. “Get a
group together and arrest everyone Krycek mentioned. I want them all
in the Camp by tomorrow.”
Both officers chimed a “yes, sir” and left the room.
Mulder turned to his prisoner, relishing the state he was able
to put Krycek in. Swiftly, he unchained the wrist manacles, sending
Krycek sprawling to the ground. He knelt down and took the ankle
chains off as well.
The wavering green gaze rested on Mulder’s eyes. “So when are
you sending me to the Camp?”
“Oh, you aren’t going to the Camp?”
The eyes widened.
“I’m letting you go, free of charge. I’m going to let you live
the rest of your life out there, with the knowledge that you betrayed
everyone you know and your precious Cause. And don’t ever think of
committing suicide. If you die any earlier than your time, every
member of the Cause will be taken from the Camps and sent to Siberia.”
His voice lowered. “You know what they do to people in Siberia.”
Krycek nodded. He wiped his face with the backs of his hands.
When his eyes met Mulder’s again, they were filled with hurt, regret
and shame. ‘I’m sorry,’ they seemed to say.
Mulder pressed his lips to Krycek’s ear. “Nobody will ever
forgive you, Alex.” He placed a light kiss against the smooth curves.
“I love you.”
FIN 10/15/98 (my birthday)