Title: It Has to Be You|
Author: Zoe Takashi, Email Me
Page at RatB: http://www.squidge.org/terma/lzl/lzl.htm
Rating: NC-17 for male/male sex
Warning: Very dark, violence, character death--proceed at your own risk
Spoilers: Very vague spoiler for Season 8, Existence. Otherwise none.
Summary: I'm not telling, but please heed the warning.
Beta Thanks: Louise Wu
Disclaimer: X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement of rights is intended.
I kick the front door closed behind me and am suddenly immersed in darkness. My eyes haven't adjusted to the dark so I fumble along the wall for the light switch.
I flip it.
Pointlessly, I toggle the switch a couple times and sigh. It's a dead bulb, or I need to feel my way to the breaker box.
I've barely taken two steps when a blow to my jaw connects. My head is snapped back, and my brain has just registered the pain, when the punch to the gut comes. I collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Christ, that hurt. Mulder's not pulling his punches today. And I know it's him. He's the only one who cares enough to come here and give me what he thinks I deserve.
There's another blow--I think it was his foot this time--to my ribs. I start trying to get away. Sometimes, if he has to chase me, it calms him down. Other times, it enrages him. No telling which today will be, but instinct tells me to flee.
He pursues me. His eyes are better adjusted to the darkness so he finds me easily. Another blow to the head knocks me on my back and makes the room spin nauseatingly out of control.
Usually, he tells me when he wants to see me. But occasionally he seeks me out. And there's always a barely suppressed rage on these rare occasions when Mulder uses my body to make up for the injustice in the world.
The anger won't dissipate until he's fucked me, but the beating will go on until his fury has run its course.
Mulder's weight is on my body, his hand around my throat. Suddenly, I can't breathe. I grope futilely at his arm, trying to pry his fingers away from my neck.
His voice hisses in my ear, "I saw you. I know you were there."
He has to mean the lab. How he saw me isn't important, getting his hand off my throat is.
"You're going to get killed, Krycek." His voice is suddenly calm. "Someone's going to take you out. FBI... Consortium... someone's going to do it. You take too many chances..." His words trail away and the pressure is removed from my throat.
I gasp, sucking oxygen into my burning lungs. I'm dimly aware of my T-shirt being ripped, then Mulder's hands yanking my fly open. He gives a grunt of frustration as he struggles to pull off my pants.
"I can't let that happen. You're mine, Alex." He sounds deranged but I don't resist as he pushes my legs up, dropping them on his shoulders. He's still wearing his suit and my mind absurdly zeroes in on the sensation of the soft wool rubbing against my bare skin.
I am his. There's never been any question of that. I try to relax, even though I don't know what's coming next. Because it doesn't matter. He can have whatever he wants.
Before I can take a breath, I feel his cock at my asshole. He pushes hard, filling me suddenly. His hand over my mouth muffles my scream.
Mulder rests his cheek against mine... it feels wet. "Don't you understand, Alex? It has to be me." His voice is soft, an entreaty in his tone. He pulls back and begins to thrust gently.
I groan, trying to ignore the pain... it only matters that it's him.
"It has to be me," he whispers again.
And suddenly, I understand.
The wetness on his face is his tears. My own eyes fill with moisture as I murmur, "Yes, Mulder, it has to be you." Only you. A completeness to everything.
His hips still and his lips close over mine. This is the first time he's kissed me. His lips are so sweet.
The barrel of his gun brushes the side of my face as his tongue explores my mouth.
The sound of the gun being cocked penetrates my dazed senses. It doesn't matter. Mulder's cock is in my ass, his tongue in my mouth.
He murmurs against my lips, "I love you, Alex."
My tears spill over.
Pull the trigger, love. It has to be you.
My own musings about the way Krycek really died. Feedback and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.