Title: Yes, Alex|
Author: Loren Q, Email Me
Pairing: M/K, actually, K/m
Rating: NC-17 for male/male sex.
Status: New, complete.
Archive: Basement, RatB, Slashville, CKoS, SlashingMulder, all others please ask.
Spoilers: Episodes through Terma, sort of.
Summary: Plot? What Plot? I just wanted to write an SM story.
Warning: SM portrayed here, including a brief cutting . Not for the faint of heart.
Additional Warning: Some may find the end squicky. If all you want is SM sex, stop reading after Mulder orgasms.
Beta Thanks: Louise Wu, Zoe T, Ness, Lyrical Soul and Alex
Disclaimer: Chris Carter and 1013 Productions own the X-Files series characters. The rest are mine. No infringement of rights is intended.
Special thanks: To those slash authors who have paved the way for me to write SM smut. I would also like to thank Louise Wu. Her real-life Top/Dom style is an inspiration to me.
Author's note: While this is a work of fiction, many character behaviors are based on combined traits of actual people. The scenes depicted are a combination of fantasy and actual events I've witnessed/participated in. Lastly, for the purposes of this story, I've taken liberties in the area of safer sex. In real life, I strongly advocate safer sex practices.
Best Long Story in 2000 (Tie Win)
Mulder's Apartment Building
"... Queen of Outer Space, and contrary to common belief, Zsa Zsa Gabor does not play the Queen. Scully, you'll love it. It's a classic."
"Mulder, you said that about Plan Nine from--"
I hand her our Thai take-out so I can open my mailbox. "Well, it is a classic."
She shakes her head. "Next time, I pick."
I open my apartment door and hit the lights. The place is a mess. Walking into the living room, I put the food, beer and mail on the couch so I can clean off the coffee table. I start piling up the stuff and then transfer it to the other mess I call my desk.
Hmmm, Scully's not the type to eat out of the carton. Better get plates and forks.
I pass her on the way to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home. Why don'cha get the VCR ready?"
Crap. Not a clean dish in sight. I wash two plates and five forks.
By the time I return, Scully's laid out the coffee table. Beer out, food cartons open and ready, the remote control on the now neatly stacked mail.
I plop down next to her, stick forks in the open cartons and hand her a plate. Picking up the remote control, I notice the creamy white envelope. I feel myself blushing as I recognize the unmistakable logo.
"Wedding invitation, Mulder?"
"Uhh, I don't think so. Probably some charity plea for money." Please let me come off as nonchalant as I'm trying to sound.
I lean back and press 'Play.'
Two Hours Later
"Remember, I pick next time," Scully tells me on her way out.
"Yeah, yeah." And I close the door.
Sitting back on the couch, I pick up the creamy white envelope. I run my finger on the logo. It's an embossed Roman breastplate. An idealization of a man's torso with the latin Vidi, Vici, Veni inscribed underneath.
The Centurions. The SM organization I'm a discreet member of...
I'm not active in the SM community, or the club really. I'm already involved in one bureaucracy. I just go to the periodic play party, when I need a release that I can't offer myself.
I tear open the envelope.
'You have been selected to serve a contingent of
Oh yeah, International Mr. Leather's in D.C. this year. Just a couple of weeks away. I read on.
'Service may range from Valet to Sexual Ownership.
Hmmm, I tap the invite against my lips as I free my now hard dick from my pants. If just the invitation is eliciting this response... ahhh.
Four Days Later
Another envelope from the Centurions. More instructions. Let's see, I'm only allowed to bring a backpack and whatever will fit in it. No phones or pagers will be allowed.
Next, fill out the enclosed form and bring it with me to 113 N. Broad Street on Friday at 8:30 P.M. No form, no entry. Use a marker. This is getting complicated.
I look at the form. Large, bold printing.
Do you have a safeword? [ ] yes [ ] no
List up to ten activities you will NOT do:'
Trepidation would set in if the blood flow to my brain wasn't being routed to my dick.
113 N. Broad Street
There's a line at the door. A young man is pleading with the doorman. "I can fill out another one... Please, I came here all the way from Manhattan." The doorman looks at him with such contempt that the boy's voice dries up in mid plea.
I hand in my form. Someone takes my backpack and escorts me inside. Past the foyer, there's a formal dining room. Hors d'oeuvres laid out against the mirrored wall.
There are about a dozen of us in the room. I look around. Engineer boots and chest harnesses, Levi's, leather. I hope the guy in the jockstrap got close parking. A few heads nod at each other and whispered conversations start.
A man in a beautifully tailored, gray leather Confederate uniform walks in. "Cat," he announces in a soft southern drawl. The room goes silent.
JockstrapBoy walks up to him and is handed a laminated sign on a strap. He places the sign around his neck. "Thank you, Sir." Then he returns. Oh, they made our forms into signs. I get it.
Names are called out, thanks are given and men return with signs.
In these surroundings, I feel myself entering bottom space. Head tilted downward, dick poised for action, I tremble in anticipation.
"M." My turn. I walk up to the leather Rebel. "What does the 'M' stand for?" he asks.
"Whatever you think, Sir." I look at him through my eyelashes. A smile briefly touches his lips and he hands me my sign. "Thank you, Sir." I step back and fold my hands behind me.
After the signs are distributed, the leather Rebel leaves the room. We all walk around checking each other's signs. Whispers abound.
"Your safe word is 'Mommy?' God, that's sick."
"You won't do bastinado? I've never even heard of that."
"I hope mine's hunky with the dick of death..."
A half hour or so passes then the leather Rebel returns. The room goes silent. "Men. I am the Colonel. I will oversee your service and eject any of you who do not comply. One or two of you will be assigned to each of our guests. Their care is your utmost responsibility. As you may be unfamiliar with this house, you may seek me out for direction. You will address me as Colonel or Sir.
"The guests you serve have been made aware of what you will not do. Anything else is fair game. Should your guest violate what you will not do, you have permission to remind them by saying 'Sign' or pointing to it if you're gagged. Your safe-word can be used once and once only. Use it and leave this place.
"Is this understood?"
Mumbled "Yes, Sir." and "Yes, Colonel." fill the room.
"Very well. Face the far wall." We move as a unit.
"It is ten o'clock. I shall now distribute you. When I call your name, turn around and move to your owner." Hearing the word 'owner' sends a chill down my spine, but I don't know if it's from fear or pleasure.
"David." The guy next to me turns. "Woof!" he whispers.
One by one, names are called. Some of my compatriots whisper or growl at the sight, others look terrified, but no one is neutral.
I'm the last one left.
I turn and face... Fuck! What kind of trick is this?!
It's Alex Krycek. Shit.
Mulder's eyes widen when he sees me, shock overcoming rage. "M, come here."
He doesn't move. The Colonel steps forward, but I put my hand on his arm. "I'll take care of this."
I look Mulder in the eye. "You have one chance, M. Come. Here."
War rages on his face. I see his hands flex into fists, then loosen. And all the while the bulge in his jeans never flags. Finally, he moves toward me. All eyes are on us. Helmut from Germany is smirking.
I put my hand on his shoulder and apply pressure. He drops to his knees. I point down and he lays his forehead on the toe of my boot.
I gaze into Helmut's face, until the smirk is gone.
Heel planted, I lift M's forehead with the tip of my boot. Looking down, I softly tell him, "Up." And he stands.
I lift his head so we're eye to eye. "You will address me as Alex." Murmurs in the room... "No Master? No Sir? Who is this guy?"
Krycek's emerald gaze drills into me. Sunday. This ends Sunday at 10 P.M. At 10:01, I beat the crap out of him and at 10:15, I arrest him.
"You will be both my servant and plaything. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Si... Alex." Alex, call him Alex, at least for now. But think 'Krycek.' // Or asswipe . //
The Colonel's voice breaks the moment. "Gentlemen." Just from the tone, he's addressing the Top Men only. "You have free reign of this home and your assigned property. There is a buffet service and, if you wish, a full kitchen and staff at your disposal. A schedule of optional events is available in each of your rooms." With that, he leaves.
I look at Krycek. "Yes, Alex."
Stepping back, he sits in an overstuffed chair. Resting his chin in his hand, he looks me over. "Take off the shirt and shoes."
I stare at him uncomprehendingly. "M, I will not repeat myself."
I strip off my T-shirt and unlace my boots. Then look around for a place to stow them. Not finding anyplace obvious, I place them on the floor next to Ale... Krycek's chair.
"Fetch me some food. An assortment, but light on cheese. And when you return, kneel here." He points to the floor, by his right knee.
What the fuck am I doing? Better yet, why am I still here? An officer of the law // without gun or ID // as the property of a known felon.
I've got to think here. This is an undercover assignment. // Okay, good so far. // My role is to infiltrate and, at the right time, subdue the perpetrator. // I can live with this . //
I smile to myself thinking of Monday morning. The father-killing rat bastard will be in custody. I'll be able to interrogate him on the consortium and, who knows, I might have a good time this weekend.
As I fill a plate from the buffet table, the rebellious part of me considers spitting on his dim sum.
Returning, I hand him the plate and take my place at his feet. Nice jackboots.
Krycek leads me to his room. It's large, with a dresser, table, two chairs, a nightstand and a raised four-poster bed. // All the better to tie you up . //
He sits up on the bed and picks up a book, motioning with his head to a large suitcase on the desk. "Unpack that bag."
I cross the room to hang his leathers in the closet. // Nice gear, doeskin soft . //
Moving back to the dresser, I take a good look at him. He's wearing black gloves, a black twill uniform shirt tucked into black 501s and of course, the jackboots. The shirt has no insignias of any kind. He's not wearing any of the paraphernalia generally found on Top Men. A simple key chain on the left is his only signifier.
I wouldn't have thought him so subtle.
While putting his things away, I feel something on the bottom of his suitcase that's thick and hard. I move the clothes a bit and spy Caucasian flesh-tone plastic. My ass clenches at the site.
I pull it up and--shit! It's got a hand! I drop it back in the bag and wheel around to him. "Kry, uhh, Alex?"
He looks at me over the top of his book. "Yes?"
I'm speechless and point to his bag.
"Ahh, yes, my spare." He sits up and pulls his gloves off. Holding up his left arm for me to see, he says neutrally, "A souvenir of Tunguska."
I close my eyes, remembering how close I was to that fate. Something like compassion swells up, but I push it down. // Remember what he is. //
Moments pass. I finally clear my throat to ask, "Do you want it kept in the suitcase? Or in the dresser?" He looks at me, waiting. "Alex," I add quickly.
"Leave it in the suitcase." There's a hint of a smile in his voice. "I don't think I'll need easy access to it. Maybe I should have brought the hook?"
My gulp is audible.
I finish unpacking, then take the almost empty suitcase to the closet, placing it next to a large nylon bag with lots of compartments and zippers.
Moving to the bed, I assume my best bottom stance: head tilted down, feet shoulder width apart and hands behind my back. "I'm done, Alex."
"M, you saw the toybag in the closet?"
"Look through it and remove any items from your off-limits list. Then pull out, hmmm, five toys."
I take a breath. "Yes, Alex."
Pulling the nylon bag out of the closet, I squat next to it. One hundred feet of rope, okay. Clothespins, nope. Snakebite kit--damn, should've put that on my not list. Flogger with soft, fat blades, oh yes. Manacles--does that count as two? A forty-two ounce bottle of lube? Jesus.
I end up with two piles. There are only a few things in the off-limits pile. The other one has the rope, soft flogger, a paddle, manacles and a small butt plug.
Standing up, I say softly, "Done, Alex."
He comes over and inspects the two piles. He nods briefly. "Is there an empty drawer left in the dresser?"
"Good. Combine both piles and put them away in the dresser." Damn. That flogger really looked nice too.
I had Mulder put the toybag on the bed. From one of the outer pockets I pull out a smaller red nylon bag.
Rummaging through what's left, I load up the red bag, making sure I've got plenty of condoms and lube. Then I sit on the bed to watch him. He's standing in front of me, squirming a little at the silence.
"We'll be going down to the play party soon. I want to make sure you're suitably... attired."
I watch him stiffen. He's clad only in jeans. His boots, socks and shirt are next to the dresser. "Lose the pants."
Blushing, he takes off his pants. Lo and behold, a leather jock strap. Fox, you wicked boy. "Take off the jock strap."
His face, a more furious red, contorts for a moment, then composes. "Yes, Alex." And off comes the jock strap.
Mulder's cock is fully erect. I thought he'd be hung, I was right. Speedo's don't lie.
"M, come here." He walks toward me, cock bobbing with each step. I reach out and grip his dick, hard. He hisses, sounding almost feral. "Look at me."
His eyes glitter--hate, violence and lust, just twinkling there for my delight.
I hold up what looks like a latex thong, with the front panel cut out. I reach into my bag and pull out a butt plug slightly larger than the one he selected. I insert the plug in a holder on the thong and hold it to him. "Pull this on up to your mid thighs."
He opens his mouth and I squeeze his cock again. "Ahhhh" is the only sound from him.
Taking the thong from me, he steps into it, stopping at mid thigh.
I stand and step behind him. I wrap my prosthetic arm around his waist, and push his head down. "Brace yourself on the bed." His arms reach out in compliance.
Pulling away from him, I squeeze a generous amount of lube on his back. He turns his head, confused. "One learns to make do with only one working hand."
I smear lube on the butt plug first, then make sure my fingers are covered. With my index finger, I make little circles around his anus, feeling him jerk. Without warning, I plunge my finger in.
"Ahh fuuckk," he gasps.
I pull back slowly, then start pumping gently. His ass is tight. I don't think it's seen much action recently.
He pushes his ass against my hand and I ram up him again. "Do not move."
"Yesss, Alex," he says in a breathy voice.
I push a second finger into him and watch him throw his head back.
I feel his legs trembling, fighting to not push back into my hand.
As suddenly as I started, I withdraw my fingers. A soft "No," escapes him.
I pull up the thong, carefully maneuvering it over his hips. His cock and balls are exposed in front. I add a little more lube to the butt plug, then with slow pushing and side-to-side twists, get it firmly up his ass.
My thoughtful hosts left a stack of towels on the desk. "M, fetch a towel." I sit on the bed.
Mulder stands upright, gingerly, then takes a tentative step forward. A slight wince crosses his face but he's able to move, if not gracefully, purposefully.
He hands me the towel and I make a spinning motion with my finger. He turns around and I wipe the excess lube from his back. I give him a quick slap on his ass and hear him stifle a cry.
He's facing me again. Legs together, head down and hands behind his back. I would never in my wildest dreams have imagined he'd be this submissive. I don't think he knows.
Absently, I reach out and grip his cock, rubbing my thumb on the head. A guttural moan brings me back.
I release him and pick up a leather strap and snap it on around his cock and balls. Before releasing him, I take his cock in my mouth for one long suck. His knees almost buckle.
"Put the boots back on."
He looks at me, eyes heavy lidded. I'm sure he didn't hear me. "M. Put. Your. Boots. On."
I watch him as he tries to figure out how to get his boots on. Does he sit? Does he remain standing? Nothing like a butt plug to make you aware of how you move. Finally, he gets the boots on.
One last item. A high collar with a wide perpendicular strip of leather attached. The leather strip runs down the wearer's back and has wrist restraints affixed. Both collar and restraints use Velcro closures.
I place the collar on him with the strip running down his spine. I fasten the collar then move behind him to secure his wrists.
He stands before me, the posture collar keeping his head held high, his shoulders back and his hands behind him.
Stepping up to him, I run my hand along the back of his head. I grip his hair and pull him toward me. He resists for a moment, then opens his mouth to my invading tongue. I grind against his bare cock and hear him whimper.
I break away from him, leaving his mouth open and eyes closed.
Pulling on my gloves. "M, are you ready?"
"Oh, yes, Alex."
I walk down the stairs carefully. Squeezing my ass with each step for fear of the butt plug flying out. Alex... // Alex? // Krycek puts his hand on my shoulder. "You can relax somewhat. The thong will keep it up there."
We enter the dungeon. It's the basement, running the length of the home. It's well lit and well equipped. Several men are playing already.
One bottom's been tied in intricate bondage. Beautiful work, must have taken hours.
Elsewhere I hear the steady slap of an open hand on flesh. Each slap followed by "Thank you, Sir."
There's a boy, face down on a bench. One man is fucking his ass, another fucking his face and a third is whipping him.
"Aleksandr. Gud to see you."
"Helmut." Krycek replies with a nod of his head.
Helmut is the archetypical leatherman. Motorcycle cap, vest over bare chest and chaps over leather pants. Nipple ring, bicep cuff, wrist cuff, flogger, and key ring, all on the left. Peeking out of his left back pocket, an assortment of colored hankies. Hell, if he added anything more, he'd be listing.
He's tall and muscular. Blue eyes, like chips of ice. Dark blond moustache and chest hair. Blandly handsome, in that stern Teutonic fashion.
I compare him to my... to Krycek. I know I shouldn't be feeling this, but I'm strangely proud. I'd take Krycek over this guy any day. // Just sex. Remember, just sex. You're undercover . //
"Aleksandr. Ve haf missed you. You haf not been playing?" His heavy German accent sounds affected, as though he puts it on, like the rest of his accoutrement.
"I've been... out of circulation." Krycek's face and voice are neutral.
"Velcom back. I still owe you, ja?"
"No, consider that... a gift." What the hell are they talking about?
"Nein, I vish to hold no debts. Cat, come here."
"Up, boy! Present your ass to Master Aleksandr." Cat jumps to his feet then turns and bends.
"Aleksandr, this ass is yours for the next half hour. If you vill but permit me to vatch."
Krycek looks at Helmut for several seconds, then a single, slow nod.
Walking around, Krycek lifts Cat's head. "What will you have me do, Alex?"
I bristle hearing him say 'Alex.' // Where the hell is that coming from? //
Krycek smiles... at Cat? At me? "Cat, you were listening. Good. But you will not call me Alex."
Cat's eyes widen. "How shall I address you... Si... Ma, uh?"
"Think of something. I'll let you know if I approve."
"Yes, Sir." Hope flickering, put out by a hard slap to his ass.
Krycek looks around the room, his eyes veiled. He starts to move. "Follow me."
He leads us to a corner of the room. A sling hangs from the ceiling. Krycek rummages in his bag and holds out a tube. "Cat, lube your ass up."
"Yes... Master." Another quick slap.
I watch as Cat takes the lube, applies it to his fingers and... damn, he's flexible.
"Cat, get in the sling."
"Yes... Sire?" Slap! Sigh.
Cat positions himself in the sling. Alex asks Helmut to secure his wrists in the manacles provided. Helmut looks at him questioningly.
"Only his ass is mine."
Helmut smiles, and straps Cat in.
Krycek positions himself between Cat's legs and motions me closer.
He pulls off his right glove and replaces it with latex. Cat's eyes widen in anticipation. He purrs.
My dick starts throbbing as I watch Krycek insert one, then two fingers. Cat's moaning sets off a sympathetic reaction in my own ass. I feel myself squeezing the butt plug.
I don't know what Krycek's doing, but Cat jumps. A cry erupts from his throat, "Oh, please, please."
As quickly as he did with me, he pulls out. Cat wails in dismay.
Krycek snaps off the latex glove, puts his leather one back on, then pulls out a condom. I lick my lips. // Why am I licking my lips? //
He tears open the condom and turns to me. He rolls the condom on my dick slowly. I close my eyes feeling the supple leather of his glove against my skin.
"Fuck him." My eyes fly open. Helmut is staring daggers at Krycek.
Krycek moves me, positioning my dick at Cat's ass. "Fuck him, but do not come."
I push tentatively against Cat's anus, Krycek's hand guiding me. I slip in.
Blood rushes through my body. I've been so hot and hard for so long, I don't know that I'll be able to hold back.
I feel someone behind me, black-gloved hand on my hip, groin against my ass. Krycek's voice whispering in my ear. "Do you image that's me? Instead of beating me, you're fucking me? Your dick up my ass?"
His voice and words send images through my head. Young Krycek, my partner and betrayer, innocent only in appearance. Other visions, my body up against his as I beat him, feeling his heat invade me. I begin pumping faster until he digs his fingers into my hip and starts controlling the speed of my thrusts.
His tongue licks my ear, sending shivers down my back to my cock. I lay my head back on his shoulder. His lips close to my ear, voice husky... "Or do you dream of my cock in your mouth... in your ass?"
"Alex, I... I... I'm guh, going to..."
He pulls me out of Cat and holds me up against him. He nips my ear, jolts run through my body with each tiny bite. More whispering, "Every time you laid a hand on me, you wanted me."
"Yes, yes," I repeat over and over in a lust-addled frenzy. My entire focus is on my dick. Harder than it's ever been, throbbing almost painfully, seeking release.
I didn't think I'd get Mulder to admit that. At least not this quickly. I step away from him and watch as he sways, trying to stay upright.
Cat's howling distracts me. Oh, yeah, him. I've still got fifteen minutes. Wouldn't want to insult Helmut.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. My dick's still twitching, but it's no longer nanoseconds from orgasm. My balls are beginning to ache.
Krycek confers with Helmut while Cat meows piteously from the sling. Helmut releases him then orders him to a bench six feet away.
"M, move over to Cat." I shakily walk over. Cat whispers, "Your top is... something else." His voice is a mixture of envy and fear. I just nod.
Krycek and Helmut make their way over.
"Cat, over the bench, ass up." Krycek orders. Cat, fear in his eyes, simply nods then flinches, waiting for the slap. Krycek raises an eyebrow. "Yes, that will do."
Cat smiles and assumes the ordered position. Krycek strokes Cat's ass, then lets off with a moderate spank. More stroking, then another spank. And another and another, each a little harder than the previous.
Helmut hands Krycek a studded paddle.
Thwak! Krycek varies the speed and strength so Cat doesn't know when the next one will land or how hard it will be. Sometimes he just brushes the paddle softly along Cat's crack. I fixate on Cat's ass. The welts from the paddle overshadow the handprints.
There's a long pause. Cat's flinching without being touched. He's crying softly. Krycek quietly moves around to Cat's head and puts the paddle to Cat's lips. Cat softly says, "Thank you..." then kisses the paddle.
At this point I notice that most other play has stopped and all eyes are on Krycek. He stands, hands Helmut the paddle and says in that gravelly voice, "Paid in full."
We leave the play party. Krycek leads the way. Top Men nodding to him,
bottoms looking at him wistfully.
I rotate my shoulders then neck and shake out my arms. Not too bad.
I watch as Mulder loosens up. He has no idea how much of a natural he is at this. He's been sporting a hard-on for a few hours, not to mention the butt plug.
I think he's completely forgotten about his compliance on not coming. He warned me when he was close. Such a good boy.
He even calls me Alex without sarcasm. Of course, he thinks that'll end on Sunday.
I root through my bag, putting lube and condoms on the nightstand. I pull out a cock and ball harness. It's quite a beauty. I sit on the bed, waiting for Mulder to finish stretching.
"M, come here."
He walks up to me and I reach out and snap off his cock ring. A quick intake of breath as he feels his blood coursing.
I hold up the harness. His brows knit and he blinks.
His eyes open wide as I put it on him. The ball harness is a half-inch strap that snaps around the top of his scrotum. It pushes his testicles down to the bottom of the ball sac. Running perpendicular to the half-inch strap is a thinner, adjustable band that separates his testicles.
The attached cock harness is a thick strip of leather that runs on the underside of his cock, stopping below the head. There are four Velcro straps in strategic places. He tries not to squirm as I strap him in. I tweak the tip of his cock when I'm done and his knees almost buckle.
"M, some rules for the rest of the night. You do not have permission to touch your cock. You do not have permission to remove the harness or butt plug. You may, however, ask for their removal. You do not have permission to come, nor do you have permission to ask. If for any reason I am not in the room, you are to lie quietly on the bed until my return. I will allow you to sleep in the bed, but may eject you at my will. When I say it's time to sleep, you will--or at the very least, feign it well. You may forego calling me Alex until morning. Do you understand these rules?"
"Yes, A... Yes."
I nod and walk over to the dresser to pick up my shaving kit. I grab Mulder's backpack and toss it to him. "Get ready for bed."
His cock twitches.
I return to the room before Krycek. With everyone still at the play party, we didn't have to wait or share a bathroom.
I put my stuff in my backpack and, before I realize it, find myself lying on the bed. Sunday, this ends Sunday. // So enjoy yourself between now and then. //
I was damn close to jacking off in the bathroom, but I'm not willing to face the consequences if he finds out.
My dick and balls ache. I don't think I've been this hard this long. To hell with it, I reach for my cock when the door opens. Damn, damn, damn.
I stand at the side of the bed as he moves over and sits next to me. "Face me." I turn to him, close enough that my dick almost hits his nose. He bats it away, sending a pleasure/pain jolt through my body.
Reaching under, he tugs on my already stretched balls. I fight to stay still. He licks the head of my dick and I jump. He licks again, while pulling my balls. I cry out, "Please."
"Please what, M?"
Damned if I know.
He doesn't wait for any response, but instead turns me around. He slowly pulls out the butt plug. I clench my teeth as the widest part eases past my sphincter. "Take the thong off." I pull it down and step out of it.
"I saw you watching... what was his name? Cat. You were watching his ass. Did you like what you saw?
"Do you want my handprint on your ass?"
Do I? Before I can think, "Yes Alex," pops out.
He bends me over his lap. I feel him move then a glop of lube lands on my back. What the--
Slap! His hand on my ass stings. He strokes my ass, gently, fingers just touching skin, a feather touch. Slap! I bite back a curse. With each slap, the top of my dick rubs against his thigh. More strokes, more spanks, more rubbing. My ass feels like it's on fire. My dick like it's ready to explode.
He stops and I feel him smearing the lube on his fingers, and wiping up the rest with a towel. He starts to probe my already stretched anus. He easily slides in two fingers, pumping slowly. I try to rub my dick against him. He rips his fingers out and slaps my ass harder than before. I yelp in pain.
"Do. Not. Move."
"Y... Yes, Alex."
Fingers back inside me, he hits my prostate and I gasp. Oh God, please make him stop, please make him do it again.
I must have said it out loud because I hear him chuckle. He rams his fingers in, searching for and finding my prostate. I can't help myself, I buck against his hand.
Krycek pushes me off his lap. I land, ass first, on the floor. "Having trouble controlling yourself?"
I nod furiously.
He stands up. "On your knees." Then opens his fly and pulls out his... Christ he's hung.
I'm on my knees, licking my lips. He strokes himself and rubs his cock along my lips. I try to lick him but get a light slap in return.
"Do you want to suck my cock?"
"Alex, I want to suck your cock."
His hand fists in my hair and he pulls my head up.
"With feeling, M."
Looking into his eyes // I can't believe I'm doing this. // "Please, Alex. I want to suck your cock."
"Then do it."
I almost attack him in my fervor. His dick is salty but clean tasting. The precum sliding on my tongue. I almost gag, but want his dick down my throat so badly and push past it.
His hand's on the back of my head, gripping my hair so I can't move. He starts fucking my face, slowly, then faster. I reach out and wrap my arms around him, pulling his jeans down farther.
He pulls out of my mouth. "On the bed, on your back."
I scramble, throwing myself on the bed. I watch him pull on a condom. He pulls at my hips, positioning me so my ass is at the edge of the bed, my knees up to my chest.
He guides his cock to my ass and slams into me. He's fucking me with abandon; almost every stroke hits my prostate. I cry out, unintelligible sounds. Nonsense syllables. I feel the straps of the cock harness tighten, as my dick grows larger. He stops suddenly and pulls out of me. "Please, Alex. No, don't stop."
Pulling off the condom, he starts jacking off. Rubbing himself on the head of my dick. I throw back my head and howl.
"Look at me."
I lift my head to watch him jerk off. I reach for him but he shakes his head. A growl starts low in his throat and his hand speeds up. He explodes, spurting semen over my abdomen and chest.
I almost come, just watching him.
He breathes deeply, then composes himself. Stepping back from me, he starts stripping.
"M, up off the bed."
I stand up and he moves to the bed. He pulls back the covers and slides in. "Time to sleep, M."
I wish my dick would deflate, like my hope just did.
Saturday 10:00 A.M.
I awaken with my usual morning hard-on but there's something different. I'm too groggy to make out what.
Something's prodding against me. A lick on my ear, then, "M. Suck me awake." My dick has the memory of an elephant and twitches at the sound of his voice, before I can remember where I am and what I'm doing.
I sit up and push back the bed covers. He's on his back, right hand behind his head. His fat cock erect and ready. My mouth waters.
I kneel between his legs and take his cock as deep as I can. I hear his growl and I suck him hard. After a few seconds of that, I stop to rim the head with my tongue. Then lave down the underside of his cock. I wrap my hand and start pumping while taking his balls in my mouth.
I feel his hand in my hair. Pulling me up, back to his cock. I greedily take it in again. He starts fucking my face. Thrusting deeper, making me work my throat.
His shudder begins and he shoots down my throat. I try to swallow it all, but some dribbles from the corner of my lips.
One last suck to get it all and he pulls me off. I lick the dribbled semen from his body, then lay my head on his abdomen. My head rises and falls as his breathing goes from ragged to smooth.
"Very good. Now M, stand up."
He sits up and unstraps me from the harness. My head falls forward feeling his hand touch me, feeling the blood rush burn when my cock and balls are set free.
"M, fetch my gear. You're going to bathe me."
This bathroom has a huge shower stall. Krycek's been silent since the last order, so I'm not sure what to do. He's just standing there, patiently.
"Um, Alex? What would you have me do?"
A neutral stare is his only response.
I turn on the shower, testing the temperature. "Alex? The water's ready." He steps under for a moment then turns up the heat. I watch him as he stands under the spray, sheets of water running down his chest.
Reaching for the soap, I lather up a washcloth. I begin with his back, running the washcloth over him, then use bare hands to give him a back rub. I see him break into a smile. I get it now. I have to figure out what he wants, if I'm right, a smile, if I'm wrong, that cold stare.
He turns around and I start washing his chest, running my hands over his pecs. I wash his right arm, but hesitate when I come to his left. I don't know if I should wash it or not. I rack my mind trying to remember if he was uncomfortable about his arm. I know I was.
I tentatively reach out and start washing his truncated left arm. He raises it to make my job easier. I look at him and catch his smile. I start massaging it and get a little growl of pleasure.
He takes his soapy right hand and grasps my dick. I throw my head back at the incredible feeling of his hand sliding, gliding along my shaft. Then he stops and issues a single command. "Finish washing me."
Shaking my head, trying to clear it. I continue soaping him up and rinsing him off. Shampoo, rinse and repeat. When I begin to wash myself, he stops me. "Later."
I dry him off with a fluffy bathsheet. // I wonder how he normally dries his back. // And we return to our room.
He tells me to lay out casual clothing for both of us. Shit, I don't know what he likes to wear.
"Alex? What do you wan--" His baleful stare stops me. While I lay out his clothing, he attaches his prosthetic arm.
For him, I've picked a black, long sleeve T-shirt, indigo 501s and engineer boots. For me, the same as I wore yesterday, jeans, a Hellfire club T-shirt and wheat Timberland boots.
He nods his approval and starts getting dressed. When he's done, he walks over to me. Wraps his prosthetic arm around my waist pulling me close. His right hand in my hair pulls my head up. He kisses me long and hard, tongue invading.
Somewhere in my lust addled brain is a voice of reason. The voice that points out the power dynamic of his being fully dressed and me buck-ass naked... I wish it would shut the fuck up.
He breaks the kiss, and then pushes me gently away, saying something. I'm so horny I didn't understand a word he said. I lick my lips and blink my eyes at him. "Alex, I... uh, were you just speaking Farsi?"
Krycek breaks out into laughter. I've never seen him laugh before. His eyes dance and his usual cold countenance disappears. I could fall in love with that face.
After a moment, he says, "M. Hurry and shower. I'd like brunch soon."
I grab my shaving kit and a towel. I know what I'm going to do in the shower.
"M?" I turn to face him. He's all business again.
"Do not return flaccid."
Hmm, can I come then get it up again that soon? Damn, damn, damn.
Saturday 7:00 P.M.
I've spent my day as his personal servant. Toting and fetching. Giving him massages. Serving him meals. Not a problem really, except that he keeps rubbing and squeezing my dick though my jeans. I think my balls are permanently blue.
All of us in the house are getting ready to go to the show. None of the men here are contestants this year. Although several are, or have been, regional winners and a couple are former IML winners.
Back in our room, Krycek tells me to lay out the contents of my backpack on the bed. He picks up a black mesh shirt and pale blue 501s then walks over to the chair. He sits down, depositing the clothes on the table top. "Come here."
I stand in front of him, automatically assuming a 'parade rest' position. // What the? I gotta stop this... Sunday . //
"Close your eyes." He opens my fly and pushes my jeans down. Suddenly, I feel his mouth, hot, demanding, sucking my dick. My eyes fly open and I have to force myself to not grasp his head.
He pulls away and I feel my body slump in disappointment. Next thing I know, he snaps the cock ring on me. The constriction bites. Indigo, my balls are indigo.
"Get dressed," he says tersely.
While I'm putting on my clothes, he moves to the closet. A moment of thought and he pulls out a black leather uniform shirt, black leather jodhpurs and those jackboots.
I stop and watch him strip. His cock is semi-hard with a pearl of precum at the tip. My mouth falls open, I start salivating.
He walks over to me. "Do you like this?" I can't speak, so I nod. His hand on my shoulder, light pressure and I'm on my knees. He spreads his precum across my lips. My tongue snakes out, tasting the slick liquid and I open my mouth to take him in. A gentle slap and I close my mouth. His hand in my hair pulls me up to a standing position again.
I feel him opening my fly, pulling out my dick. It sends an uncontrollable shiver throughout my body. Prosthetic arm pulling me to him, his right hand grasping his and my dick together. His mouth assaulting mine. My dick throbs as the cockring tightens. The machinations of my brain review the power dynamic again. I'm dressed, he's nude, what the fuck is happening here?
Then he pushes me away and finishes dressing. "Button up, grab the bag, it's time to go." Sigh...
The Centurions are sponsoring several tables up front, close to the stage.
Our group moves through the crowd, Top Men first. Our caravan elicits greetings, nods and whispers. "Oooh, look at that Daddy."
When we get to our spot, Krycek turns his chair to face the stage and rests his left arm on the table. He pats his lap as an indication of where he wants me to sit. I'm embarrassed by this as I sit, my back to the table, legs over his right thigh. What does he think I am? A lap dog? // Well, duhh . //
I can't concentrate on the contest. The heat from his lap seems to burn in my ass. His hand continually pressing against the outline of my dick, squeezing my already restricted balls.
"Fetch me water." He whispers in my ear. I stand up and head to the hosted bar. On the way, I notice several men staring at my crotch. They must be able to see my heartbeat in my dick. At the bar, I ask for water. The bartender hands me a bottle of Volvic and nods to my crotch. "Save some for the play party." Looking down, I see the outline of my dick, at the head, a large wet spot. I feel the blush to the roots of my hair.
Back at table I hold the water out to Krycek. He cocks his head to the right, but doesn't take the bottle. I crack the top off then hand it to him again. He smiles and takes it from me. After a long draught, he motions me to his lap again.
He's resting the bottle on my dick. Any other time, the pressure would be nothing. But after a twenty four hour hard-on, the thirty two ounce bottle feels like a ton.
"Thirsty?" his lips against my ear, chills down my back.
He takes a long swig of water, then presses his mouth to mine. I drink from him.
Sunday 2:30 A.M.
The play party's in full swing when we arrive. Everyone's in a festive mood. The new Mr. International Leather has been crowned. He's tall and built. Skin the color of rich coffee with a dash of cream. I had to look twice, I thought he was X.
As we pass him, he calls out, "Alex? Is that you?"
Krycek holds out his hand. "Garrick, congratulations."
Shaking Krycek's hand, Garrick asks, "How've you been, man? I haven't seen you in ages. I heard you were in an accident."
Krycek shrugs. "Yeah, but I'm fine now."
"Yeah, man. I'd say so." Garrick looks at me, devours me with his eyes.
Garrick glances back to the door. "I'd better head back to the 'receiving line,'" he says, rolling his eyes.
"Um, Alex?" Krycek turns to look at me. "I, may I ask... How do all these guys know you?"
Another shrug. "They just do." And he turns and continues into the room.
This space is even larger than the basement last night. Slings, manacles on the walls, on posts. Everything a sadist would desire.
Krycek leans against the wall, surveying the room. He catches my attention, then points to the floor. I look down but don't know what I'm looking for. A hand on my shoulder pushing me down--Oh, I get it. And I'm on my knees next to him.
Off to a side of the room is a cage. It's about eight feet tall by three feet square, crossbars about a foot apart. It's occupied by a ginger haired, buff, bottom-boy. The type of boy I pick up when I want my dick serviced.
"Wait here." I watch as Krycek speaks to the Top Man next to the cage. The Top Man nods and barks something to the bottom boy. Krycek motions me over.
He takes the bag from me then proceeds to open my jeans, pushing them down to my ankles. My hard dick swings free with a jolt of pain // but in a nice way . //
Krycek turns me to face the cage, then pushes me against it. He kicks my feet so they're as far apart as my jeans will allow. He presses against my back and starts with that whispering that drives me insane. "Reach up and hold on to a crossbar." I do. "You are to hold on until I say so. Releasing the bar without my permission is the same as saying your safe word. Everything stops. Do you understand?" His lips fluttering against my ear, his groin grinding against my ass.
"Yes, Alex," I say, shuddering.
He reaches down and lifts my dick and balls, placing them on another crossbar so they're now in the cage. The crossbar digs in under my balls. Then he backs away.
Minutes pass, as I'm left untouched. Ginger-hair in the cage, alternately looks into my eyes, then stares at my dick. I see his Top Man at the side of the cage, peering past me.
The Top Man nods. "Go." Command issued and Ginger-hair falls to his knees, taking my balls in his mouth. I throw my head back feeling his hot mouth surround my sac. He gently closes his lips and pulls his head back. I lean my head forward, resting my forehead on the bars.
I feel a thud on my back as the heavy blades of a flogger strike me. Softly at first, then harder until the strokes sting. The whipping continues on my upper back, mid back, ass and thighs. I'm almost hypnotized by the rhythmic landing of blows. My skin, on fire with each lash, endorphins flooding me...
A hand moves into the cage and pulls Ginger-hair away. My balls pop out of his mouth, a pout on his lips. Ginger-hair is told to stand and is led to the other side of the cage. His Top Man tells him to press his ass against the bars. Hands grip Ginger's hips and he bends, bracing his hands on the bars next to my hips. I see his Top Man position himself then thrust. Ginger-hair stiffens for a moment, then rocks back in that familiar fucking motion. Ginger's face is so close to my dick, I can feel his breath.
The whipping stops. Krycek stands on my left. I feel his hot hand caress my ass, fingers moving into the crack. They pull away only to come back, heat dissipated by cool lube. A finger works its way up my ass, a second finger follows. Scissoring motion that hits my prostate, I grip the crossbar harder. He pulls out of me and I cry out, "NO!" Only to receive a hard slap on my ass for this outburst.
Krycek presses against my back, whispering, "Look at them fuck. Imagine your ass against the bars." I feel his hand on his fly, releasing his cock. He rubs it along my ass crack then pulls away. I hear the tear of a condom wrapper, then feel the head of his cock push against my anus.
He pushes slowly into me. I moan and lean my head back on his shoulder. He starts to pull back and my ass clenches around his dick. He growls into my ear--the sound resonating in my balls.
Pulling almost all the way out, he whispers, "Want it?"
"Yes, oh yes, Alex." He slams into me so hard I lift up on my toes.
His languid pumping is driving me insane. Slow deep strokes that push me harder into the bars. Lips touching my ear, husky whisper. "Is your ass mine tonight?"
"Oh yes, Alex."
"You want my cock up your ass?"
I can't speak, so I nod.
"How long have you wanted it there? Four years? Five?"
"A... a long time, Alex."
Impossible as it seems, he slows down. I press my forehead against the bars. Opening my eyes, I see his hand move into the cage. He lifts Ginger-hair's face and runs his fingers over the boy's lips. Ginger-hair opens his mouth, eyes glazed. I can feel Ginger-hair's hot rapid breathing on my dick. Krycek moves my dick to Ginger-hair's mouth. Ginger-hair starts licking and sucking the head of my dick.
Krycek's body pushing mine against the bars is the only reason I can remain standing. Again, I lay my head on Krycek's shoulder. Again, the whispering...
"Whose cock is in your ass?"
"Yuh, yours Alex."
"And who am I?" He starts pumping faster.
"Ahhh." I can't speak.
"Remember outside of your apartment building? Hong Kong? Your gun to my head?" He slams hard into me with each word.
Hot mouth on my dick, fat cock ramming up my ass. Images exploding in my head.
Those insane whispers, taking me someplace I don't want to go...
"Remember your fists on me, drawing my blood?"
I begin mumbling.
"What? I can't hear you."
"I... I had to, to... Ahhh!"
Pumping faster, urgent whisper, "You had to what?"
I start screaming, "Ta, ta... touch you! Hard! I needed to touch you, to feel you. To... to... to make you mine."
"And now I own you ."
"YES! YES! Yours! God! Please! YOURS!" I gibber over and over again.
He abruptly pulls out of me. "FUCK, Alex! Please." Anguish in my voice.
His hand on my shoulder spins me around, so my back is to the bars. I slide to the floor, my mind wheeling, my dick throbbing. He rips off the condom then grabs my hair and turns my head to look.
Thrusting his cock between the bars, Ginger-hair greedily starts sucking him. He pulls away in time to let me see him spurt cum all over Ginger-hair's face. I cry out. That should be my face, my mouth, my ass.
Sunday 4:00 A.M.
I have to help Mulder to our room; he's still shaking from the play party. I don't know if it's from not being allowed to orgasm for so long or his admission during our scene.
Stripping him, I see that his cock is still hard, a blood-filled almost purple. I snap off the cock ring and he hisses in pain, the agony etched on his face.
Putting him to bed. "It's time to sleep, M." He nods then falls into a fitful sleep.
I sit in the chair and look at him. For years I've wanted this man. This
neurotic bundle of brilliance. I want to hear him beg for me, beg for release. I
want to scar his already tortured soul.
Sunday 2:00 P.M.
My dick brushing against the sheet wakes me. I wince. My dick's never felt this tender. I push back the bed covers and sit up.
Groggy, I look around, not sure where I am at first. Then it all comes back to me. I put my head in my hands. Cognitive dissonance, that's it. I was temporarily insane. Testosterone toxicity.
But even in my regret, my dick grows larger remembering... // No, don't remember . //
I hear the door open and close behind me. I spring into action, launching myself at Krycek, slamming him against the door. My hands grasp his shirt collar, my face less than an inch from his. "What are you doing to me you fucking rat bastard?" I spit out.
Green fire from his eyes, a slow smile and he caresses my dick. He leans into me and gives me a soft, gentle kiss. "I'm giving you what you want."
The conflagration in my head moves down to my groin. My hands release his collar and rest on his shoulders. I'm lost.
Sunday 7:00 P.M.
The last play party. In three hours, I'll return to my life as Special Agent Fox Mulder, alien chaser extraordinaire, investigator of extreme possibilities. This weekend certainly constitutes an extreme possibility that even I could never have contemplated.
I know now that I won't arrest him, can't arrest him. But for the life of me, I don't know why. The thoughts of beating him to a pulp seem so distant as to be unreal.
Today, I was again his servant. Laying out his clothing for the day. Packing his bags. Serving him meals.
Throughout the day he would pull me into his lap, stroke my dick though my jeans and whisper in my ear. Just enough to keep me hard, just enough to keep me his.
For the play party, he has me wear my leather jock strap and boots, nothing more. My jeans and T-shirt neatly folded on top of my backpack. He's in his black twill uniform shirt, black jeans tucked into jackboots.
Heading down to the basement, my dick hardens more, constrained by the jock strap. I don't know that it's ever gone down this weekend.
As he has in the past, Alex stands to one side to survey the room. This time when he points to the floor, I know to kneel. I can smell the polish on his boots.
Men walk past him. Heads nod in greeting. Some stop and chat. He absently strokes my head. Patting me, like a favored pet. // Well, isn't that what you are? God, I hope so. //
The Centurions must have opened this party to the general membership. There are a lot of men who aren't staying here in attendance.
"Aleksandr, haf you enjoyed your veekend?" It's Helmut, and behind him, Cat on a leash.
"Yes, it's been most entertaining."
"I had the pleasure of vatching your scene yesterday. Your boy has much potential." Cat's eyes narrow at me. "The cat here almost came at the sight. Und vithout permission." Cat looks at Helmut fearfully. "Vould you be interrested in punishing him?"
With a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, Alex replies, "No, Helmut. I know you're more than capable."
Helmut nods and leaves, tugging Cat along. "Ja, ja. Haf a gud time. Aleksandr."
Alex's hand in my hair makes me stand. He walks over to a chair on a riser, steps up and sits. He motions me to stand in front of him then sits back, looking around the room. He looks like a royal, observing his court.
"You left nose prints on my boots."
"I... uhh... I..." I look at him. I don't know how to respond, what to do. Fear begins to grip me when he leans forward and puts a finger to my lips. I instinctively lick my lips and see him nod.
I get down on all fours and start licking his boots. The polish is waxy and bitter, but also an aphrodisiac. The hard leather smooth against my tongue. I delve into the creases at the ankle. I hear low moaning, startled when I realize it's coming from me.
Hand in my hair pulls me away. Sometime during the boot licking, Alex freed his cock from his pants. It lies there, semi-erect. He pulls me to it. I take him in all the way, feeling his cock grow hard in my mouth. His cock, my mouth.
He allows me to suck him for a few moments before he pulls my head away. "That's enough for now." My mouth feels empty, I lick my lips hoping for one last taste of him. He stands and tucks himself back into his jeans. "Over there, the cross." I turn to where he's motioning and see it, manacles hanging from the crossbeam.
Alex has me face the cross and tells me to reach out and hold the manacles. "Same rules from last night. You release, the scene ends. You leave." I nod my understanding. Then reach up, press my body against the post, my head turned to the left.
He stands where I can see him and runs his hand along my back, stroking my ass. He smiles at the quiver this produces.
Suddenly, a hard slap to my ass pushes my groin into the post. I wince, both at the sting and my dick being mashed.
Again, soft, gentle stroking. I open my eyes to look at him. His head is tilted downward, a smile playing on his lips. He looks at me from under those thick eyelashes. Liquid emeralds. Slap! And he steps away.
When he's in view again, he's holding a whip. Not like the fat bladed flogger from last night. // Was it just last night? //
This one's a cat-o-nine-tails. Each of the strands is a latex cord, the tips cut at an angle. He steps behind me. I hear the whistle of the strands and a snap as they hit my skin. He rains down on me, all the blows on my upper back. The strands feel like they cut with each lash.
He varies the speed but not the intensity of each lash. My back is so sensitized, a feather duster would hurt.
The whipping stops. He presses up against my back. The heat from him burns into my skin. He steps away.
Returning to my side, he holds up a riding crop. He brushes the crop against my lips then down my chin.
The first blow lands on my ass, in the same place he's spanked. "AHH!" And again, I buck into the post. Another blow then another and another until I stop counting. My ass is on fire, my dick feels bruised from slamming against the post.
Again, he stops and steps behind me. His hand, stroking my ass. His lips against my ear. "What a good boy you are, M."
I feel him reach in front of me and slip his hand into my jock. I stand bolt upright as his hand encircles my dick. A quick squeeze, a quick stroke then he removes his hand. "GOD, PLEASE!"
"Let go of the manacles."
I drop my arms and my head.
"Shake out your arms." It's with that command that I realize my hands are numb. I rub them together and flex my fingers. Pins and needles seem like nothing after that.
After several moments of getting circulation back, Alex presses my back to the post. With his head, he motions to the manacles and I reach up to hold them again.
Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a pair of tit clamps on a chain and the cock and ball harness he used on... when was that? It seems so long ago.
I hiss when he puts the tit clamps on. The tips of my nipples extend past the clamps and he rubs his fingers against them, then pinches. Even though he's gentle, his fingers feel like a vise.
He pulls down my jockstrap. My now freed dick bobbing up and down like some rear-window dog. He snaps on the ball harness first, pushing my nuts to the bottom of my scrotal sac. He moves to the cock harness, his fingers just playing along my dick as he straps it in.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out several teardrop shaped items. He hooks the first to the center of the tit clamp chain. I feel a pull on my tender nips. And ask him with my eyes.
"Fishing weights, M. It's amazing the number of places one can find sex toys."
His hand moves down to my crotch, and I feel sudden pressure on my balls. He somehow attached weights to the ball harness. The pulling on my scrotal sac makes me wince and bring up my leg.
A light slap to my cheek. "Do not do that." Ice in his voice chills me to the bone.
"I'm sorry, Alex."
He adds more weights to my balls and tits. I squeeze my eyes shut and stifle a cry with each addition.
Then nothing. I open my eyes and he's disappeared. I look frantically around the room, finally seeing him speaking to two other men, bottoms. I sigh in relief. He hasn't left me. But what is he doing talking to bum-boys?
One of them I know from the club--Roy, also known as 'the gaping maw.' The other bottom nods his head, looks at his watch, says something to Alex and leaves.
Turning, Alex returns with Roy following. I'd love to rip the salacious smile off of Roy's face.
"Hey, M. Lookin' good." Roy's been in D.C. for years, but never shook his hayseed accent. He's wearing cutoff shorts and hiking boots. Hell, give him a polka-dot shirt and he could be Daisy Mae.
With a look that could freeze polar bears, Alex tells him, "Do. Not. Speak."
Roy's eyes open wide, he nods rapidly. Alex snaps his fingers then points to the bag. Roy positively jumps at the sound then lifts the bag, holding it open. Alex pulls out a towel, another piece of cloth, alcohol swipes, antiseptic ointment and what looks like a cigar tube.
"Boy, put the bag down then bend over." Roy's eyes light up, until he understands that he's being used as a table. Alex lays out the towel and arranges the other items. He uncaps the cigar tube to reveal a scalpel.
He opens an alcohol swipe and cleans the area above my left nipple. He picks up both the cloth and scalpel. Holding the scalpel like a pen and the cloth extending from the bottom of his hand. He moves closer to me.
I hardly feel the first cut, the scalpel's that sharp and my endorphins that high. But I feel the sting when he wipes the blood. Another cut, wipe, then a third. It feels like a triangle.
He caps the scalpel and pockets the cloth. Tearing open another alcohol swipe, he flicks it open and places it flat on the cutting. My head shakes furiously back and forth from the sting.
Pulling away the swipe, he applies the antiseptic. It stings, but not as bad as the alcohol.
I watch him as he rolls everything up in the towel and deposits it in an outside pocket of his bag. I look down at the fresh cutting. It's not a triangle; it's an 'A.'
I lean my head back against the post.
Seeing Mulder like this is almost as awe inspiring as a seventeenth century painting of Jesus or Saint Sebastian.
With his arms outstretched, head back and tortured countenance, he appears somehow divine.
I have so little time left with this man. So little time when I wish to do so much to him.
Alex opens his fly and pulls out his dick. My mouth drops open and he presses up against me, his mouth invading mine. He breaks the kiss and reaches out for Roy's hair.
He positions Roy on his knees almost in front of me. Roy looks up at him then tentatively licks the head of my dick. An electric jolt though my body. My dick head is the only part not in the harness and Roy goes at it. Flicking his tongue on the tip, circling it, nipping with lips covering teeth. I want more, I need more.
I feel Alex against my right side, his hand tweaking my nipple, his lips against my ear. "How long can you hold out? How long before you need to come for me?" His hand abandons my nipple, the mouth on my dick leaves. I whimper when it stops.
Hoarse whisper, "Look down M." I open my eyes to watch Roy push my dick aside and take Alex's cock all the way down. I groan, knowing that should be me. My mouth.
I see Roy work his throat and suck hard. I feel Alex's ragged breaths. His hand turns my face and he kisses me, attacking my mouth while Roy's head brushes against my dick.
Alex breaks our kiss then steps back. Roy looks up distressed. "No. Please!"
Alex puts his hand under Roy's chin. "Only my boy will make me come tonight." I'm thrilled by the words.
"You may leave now." Alex says, buttoning himself back up.
Roy pouts, then nods. Winking at me, he mutters to me, "You best hang on to that one."
Slowly, Alex removes the weights from the tit clamp chain and the ball harness. Removing the tit clamps makes me hiss at the burn. I almost collapse when he releases my genitals from the cock and ball harness.
He holds me up against the post and I use the opportunity to lay my head on his shoulder. Without thought, I kiss his neck.
After a few moments, he steps back. "Let go now." I'm not sure what he's talking about at first, then he taps my arm. I let go of the manacles and shake out my numb arms and hands. He has me step out of the jockstrap. I had completely forgotten it was around my ankles.
He sits me down on a weight bench and leaves. Returning with water, he makes me drink. "Time for something else down your throat."
For the first time, I realize that sitting on the bench puts me at Alex's crotch height. I reach for his fly. "No hands." No hands? I grip the waistband opening of his 501s with my teeth and pull down. One by one the buttons open. His cock pushes out of his pants and I start sucking him.
With his cock in my mouth, I move my head to push away the denim trying to get closer. He pulls his jeans down and I deep throat him, burying my face in his crotch. God he smells good... musky and spicy. His hand moves to my head and holds it still. He starts fucking my face and I suck harder. He stops suddenly, pulling out of my mouth. Before I can protest he says, "No, I'm going to come in your ass." My dick spasms.
We move to what looks like a medical... It's a gynecological table, stirrups and all. He lays me on it and places my feet in the stirrups. Standing between my legs, he plops a load of lube on my stomach and gets his fingers good and covered.
I feel his fingers push and prod against my anus; I'm so ready for him that he pushes in two fingers easily. Inside my ass he curls his fingers, rubbing my prostate. I damn near fly off the table. He pulls back until he's almost out of my ass then rams hard into me, a pause then his fingers curl. I reach for my own dick and he pulls his fingers out to slap my hand way. I whimper and beg, "Oh, God, Alex, please, ohgodAlexplease."
As suddenly as his fingers left me, his cock enters. "JESUS FUCK!" I bellow as he slams into me. I feel his hand squeeze my hip as he thrusts deep up my ass. No finesse this time. Hard slams, deep thrusts. A guttural moan low in his throat, one hard final push and he explodes in me.
I match his breathing as it goes from gasping and ragged to smooth and steady.
He comes to the side of the table and, cupping my face in his hand, he turns my head toward his. "M, you will come soon. On my command. Can you do that?"
I nod, swallow. "I will try, Alex."
He nods his approval and sits at the edge of the table. Leaning over me, he positions himself so that I can't see my legs in the stirrups. "I'm going to stay up here with you." He pauses to let it sink in. "I'm going to give your ass, just your ass, to someone else. Do you trust me?"
"Oh, yes, Alex. Anything."
He motions with his hand, then kisses me hard as I feel another cock enter my open ass.
He breaks the kiss but grasps my chin, keeping my head in place. "Look at me, M. Listen to me." I gaze into his face as the unknown man pounds into my ass. He starts talking to me in a low husky voice, words for my ears only.
"M, you've wanted this for years. My cock up your ass, my cock in your mouth." I can only nod.
"Touch yourself. Imagine it's my hand stroking you." I run my palm on the lube he left on my stomach then start jacking myself off. My dick, ignored, tortured for so long, jerks with each stroke. I close my eyes.
"Imagine my cock down your throat." His hand moves to my neck. He starts applying pressure.
"So deep in your throat you can't breathe." My hand moves faster, his tightens a bit more.
"Ah... Al... Alex, I can't hold back..." He looks back over his shoulder then turns to me.
"I'm going to count backward from ten. When I reach one, you come." I nod frantically.
"Ten. Nine. Eight." Alex's hand squeezes my throat. The unknown cock pumps into me with his count. My hand slows on my dick so as to not come too soon.
"Seven. Six. Five. Four." His count is faster. His hand, constricting my breathing. The fucking matches his cadence.
"Three. Two. One." He releases my neck and I scream his name as my orgasm rocks me. "AlexAlexAlexALEX!"
Blood pounding in my ears, through my body, as gouts of cum rush out of me. I feel my body spasm and jerk. I feel tears run down my face.
In the background, I hear the Colonel's voice. "Gentlemen, it is now ten o'clock."
No, it can't be over. This thought clears my head somewhat. Enough to hear a match strike, to smell a cigarette burning. To hear that voice. "Well done, Fox. Very well done."
I sit up, pulling my legs out of the stirrups. The smoking man is facing me. // My God, was he... No, I can't think that. //
I don't understand what the hell is happening. I look furiously around the room. "What have you done with Alex, you fuck?! "
"Tsk, tsk. Such language. You can catch more flies with honey." He inhales smoke and blows it out in a thin stream... at me. "Alex Krycek, hmm. Have you grown fond of that scoundrel? He left. Or should I say, I let him leave."
He inhales again and drops the cigarette to the floor. He turns and heads away. Shaking the colonel's hand, he says, "Superb entertainment, superb. I look forward to the next..." He turns and looks at me... "event."
I reach into my pocket for the keys to my rental car. I pull out the cloth, stained now with Mulder's blood. I feel the smile play on my lips. What memories this little souvenir will bring me.
Stowing my bags in the trunk of the car, I think about what must be going on in Mulder's mind right now. I'm sure that cancer-ridden despot will explain all this to him. I would have liked to see that. I start my long drive.
This weekend has paid for my safety from the consortium... at least for a while. I proved to that smoking fuck that I could make Mulder mine. A bet, where my freedom was the prize. I won. In so many ways.
Yes, I'm sure cancerman's having a field day, telling Mulder... whatever. All except the part about who fucked him. My piece of blackmail. Cancerman can't get it up, hasn't been able to in years.
Maybe, someday, I'll let Mulder know that... just not yet.
Vidi, Vici, Veni - I saw, I conquered, I came
Feedback please! No feedback means I throw tantrums, hold my breath and stop
My friend Ness was very distressed by the ending of this story, so she wrote a rebuttal, Mulder's Revenge .