Title:  Penance, Chapter Four: Abjuration
Author:  Zoë
Website:  http://slashfactory.com/
Fandom:  X-Files
Pairing:  Krycek/Mulder
Rating:  NC-17 for m/m sex (and everything in the warning)
Warning:  Very dark, violence, physical, mental and emotional abuse and/or torture, disturbing thoughts and images. Please proceed cautiously!
Archive:  Please ask
Spoilers:  Canon through season five
Summary:  Can Krycek handle the requirements of his deal with Mulder?
Beta Thanks:  Helen & Ursula. You guys are the best!

Disclaimer:  Alex Krycek, Fox Mulder and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement of rights is intended. All the rest belong to me



Abjuration   by Zoë

**

The weight of Mulder's hand on my head is the only thing that feels real in this bizarre-beyond-comprehension situation.

For an eternity, he just plays with my hair, so, when he moves, it's a surprise. He circles to stand in front of me. I really don't want to look at him right now, so I carefully contemplate his pants. Dark blue, light-weight, high-quality wool. Not very rumpled, he probably didn't do much sitting today. Maybe he-

His thumb passing over the cut above my eye diverts my attention. Finger under my chin, he tips my head up so I have to look at him. Expression shuttered, he meets my eyes briefly, then glances down. His brows knit in a frown as his gaze rests on my ribs.

"Who's been beating my property?"

Property? I am not-

A firm tap to my chin causes my teeth to clank together. "Who!?"

"Security guard." Next time, Alex, lie.

Mulder sighs and takes a seat in the bizarro chair, then tiredly rubs his hand over his face. "I should ask. My training and my position in law enforcement demand that I ask the question that's hanging between us." He gives me a disgusted look that bothers me more than it should. "But I'm not going to... because you'd leave, and if you leave, you can't come back. You'd find someone else to punish you, and they'd get the pound of flesh that's rightfully mine." Mulder shakes his head in dismay while raking his fingers through his hair. "This issue is going to require a lot of thought, but there's nothing to be done about it now, so we'll just move on." With hyperbolic annoyance he adds, "You are such a pain in the ass."

I desperately want to argue with him. My work is none of his concern... and considering what I've been through today, he has no business calling me a pain in the ass. Also, it's unlikely I'll ever find anyone who can give me what Mulder can, but no point in telling him that.

Fingers snapping an inch in front of my face bring me back to the present. Mulder settles back in the chair, then gestures me forward. Reluctantly, I crawl forward, stopping where he indicates, which is about a foot in front of him. His foot wedges between my knees. "Always spread your legs when you kneel."

The muscles in my jaw seize, keeping my mouth tightly shut so I don't scream obscenities at him. The pressure between my knees is more insistent. This isn't the worst thing that's happened, so there's no point in fighting. I spread my legs.

"Wider."

Bastard. My knees slip further apart, causing a sharp stretching sensation along my inner thighs.

Mulder leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Before we go any further, there's the issue of our contract. The agreement we made is that you belong to me, you do what I say without question--though you are already flirting with fucking up on the latter." His gaze flicks to my knees then back to my face. "The question is, are you abiding by the contract? Did you do your homework?"

Deep breath. "Yes."

Settling against the back of the chair, he crosses his right leg over his left. "I'm going to test you, and I want you to look me in the eyes the entire time. Do not look away. Understand?"

"Yes." I try desperately not to think. His expression is relaxed, but his stare is intense. It makes me uncomfortable because I know it sees too much.

"Have you fucked anyone?"

I forgot about that. "Yes."

He frowns. "When?"

"Sunday."

The frown is lifted. "Part of your rebellion, so there's already punishment planned for that. Any others?"

"No." My head's been too fucked up to think about sex.

"Good." He pauses briefly, "What is felching?"

Unbidden, the blood rushes to my cheeks. "Consuming the resultant semen after anal sex."

Mulder's lips quirk up briefly. "Very technical, but accurate. What is a twink?"

I really, really want to reply, 'a cream-filled, too-sweet, sponge cake,' but the eye contact keeps me in line. I answer the question, and the next, and so many more I lose count. What's a trick, a bear, water sports, rimming, and on and on. Miraculously, I only miss one question. What's the difference between an Ampallang and an Apadravya. I don't have a clue what either of those are, so I simply shrug. His eyes narrow briefly, but he doesn't explain it. Finally, he says, "So you read the entire book."

I don't know why I feel compelled to answer honestly. "Almost all of it."

One eyebrow aims for his hairline. "What didn't you read?"

Chewing on my lower lip seems like the best thing to do. This is really backward... I don't think I'm getting anything out of this. So, why am I here?

"Answer!"

"I didn't read the section on rape!" I snap. I'd really like to put your head through the wall, Mulder.

The line of his mouth softens a little "Why?" His tone is gentler, and I hate him for it.

"Because... I..." Another deep breath steadies me. "Because I'm afraid that's what's going to happen."

He's quiet for a moment, then asks, "You mean, you're afraid I'm going to fuck you?"

Huh? Didn't we just say the same thing? "Well, yes. You had me read the book, you want me naked and the," I have to clear my throat, "the enema. You think I don't know what that's about? Even if I didn't have a clue before, the book cleared up any lingering confusion." This is what my subconscious has been cycling on since I woke up this afternoon.

Mulder sighs, expression thoughtful. His fingers make for the top button of his shirt, working down until it's completely open. My eyes feel like they're going to pop out of my head as he reveals his lean, muscled chest. I guess we're going to get right to it. He shrugs out of the shirt and tosses it away. Scooting down in the chair, he sits with his legs spread, fingers laced together over his bare abdomen. The position is openly sexual, and I swallow hard, not liking this turn of events.

"Okay," Mulder begins, "allow me to address your concerns and set your expectations. I will fuck you, Alex. But it won't be rape." My stomach twists itself into knots. "The first night you said, 'I'm yours.' The second night, you affirmed, 'Every part of me belongs to you--even my life--to do with as you wish. And I'll do whatever you say without question.'" I don't like having my words thrown back at me. His eyes bore into mine, seeing my resentment. "That's our contract. So, when I do fuck you. It. Won't. Be. Rape.

"Also, you say you know what the enema was about. I guarantee that you don't." His expression drifts toward smug. "First, it's about what you went through before you came here. The embarrassment, the indignity, the indecision." It's like he was in the goddamned room. "Second, it's about you taking an overt action to get ready for me. No more pretending this isn't happening until you get to my door, then forgetting about it the moment you walk out."

I can't look at him anymore, because he figured out how I planned to get through this. I hate him so much right now.

After a pregnant silence, he intones, "You have two choices. Do what I say, or leave. You can exercise the right to leave anytime you like. But you can never come back." His voice is calm and even--as if he's recounting the time or weather. "So... look at me, or leave."

I look at him, and let him see what he's doing to me.

His lips turn up and he appears to be satisfied. "Third reason for the enema is to provide you with a sense of anticipation. Every time you come here, you'll be wondering, 'is he going to fuck me this time?' And last, as you rightly suspect, when I do fuck you, I prefer a clean ass."

Clearly he has a great gift for mind fucking someone. Lucky me. "Who are you?" I whisper. "And where did this sadism come from."

"Who am I?" For a brief second, I think I see rage in his eyes. Then it's gone. "The me who sits before you now was shaped by you, Alex. You and your friends. You fuck with me; you fuck with my work, my family, my life. Then, to add insult to a long list of injuries, you come here, using me to make you feel better about fucking with me."

Shit... It's true.

"Well, that's over with. Every time something goes wrong, I'm going to use you to make it right." A frisson of fear races down my spine. "I am going to make you suffer, and you're going to thank me for it. Because that's what you need. And in return, I get to do to you everything I can't do to them.

Mulder abruptly leans forward, until his face is a few inches from mine. I can see the shifting colors in his eyes, feel his breath on my cheek. "You are my whipping boy, Alex." He makes it sound like I'm his most prized possession. "What I do to you will allow me to get up every day and face the same frustrations and the same failures over and over again. In exchange for all your suffering, humiliation and pain, you'll gain absolution. In the end I get to be me, but you are no longer you. So we both wind up getting what we most want."

In an effortless movement, he gets to his feet, then smiles down at me. But it's a cruel smile. "As for the sadism... it's not. You put a name to it, Alex, not me. Penance. Remember?" All too well. "It's fortunate for you that you chose the person who best knows how to hurt you. Who best knows how to make you pay."

He does know... all of it. It's so unfair. How dare he see that much? All I can do is stare at him, knowing I'm at the edge of the precipice. I still have enough of the me I hate to walk out the door. But there's no more room at the edge. One more step toward Mulder and there's no going back.

Mulder reaches into his pocket and pulls out something beige. It's a rubber glove. An alarm is just starting to go off in my head, when he murmurs, "All your homework is tested. Keep your legs the way they are and put your head and chest on the floor." He disappears behind me and I hear the snap of the glove.

My body is vibrating with tension. So this is the final choice. Leave or bend over. I should have anticipated this. Mulder's been so deadly accurate about me so far, it was a given that he'd make this choice as hard as possible. In a backwards way, the fact that he's making it so hard is reassuring.

Of all the things that have been said and done, of all the things I thought I wanted, what I hear most clearly is, 'You are my whipping boy, Alex.' And so I am. It's what I deserve, and it's what I owe. So I lower my head to the floor and let go.

The position feels so degrading. I should hate myself for allowing this, but I don't. It's the first thing in so long that I feel good about.

Something slippery is at my asshole. Abruptly he shoves his finger inside me. My cry is caught in my throat and sounds like I'm choking. The pain wasn't horrible, but it was a shock. My breathing is shallow and erratic and my face feels like it's on fire. He probes for a few seconds, then his finger stills.

Please take it out, Mulder.

As if he knows that's what I want, he leaves it in place. Eventually he asks, "Whose ass is this?"

"Yours," I whisper.

"What?"

"Yours!"

"And who gets to fuck it?"

Oh, Christ, don't make me say this.

His finger starts to slide out, then suddenly there's more pressure, and he pushes in. This time I can't stop the cry. Whatever it is, it's bigger, and it hurts.

"That's two fingers, Alex." He sounds pissed. "I warned you not to make me repeat my questions." He shoves in deeper and I groan. "Who gets to fuck this?"

"You do," I manage to gasp out.

He pushes against me again. "I can assure you that you aren't ready for three, so you'd better answer my questions loud enough for me to hear you." Those awful fingers slide out some, then he rams them back in, causing me to slide forward.

"You do!" I yell.

"I do what?"

The fingers disappear, then they're back. "Ah!" I pant helplessly. "You get to fuck my ass."

"Brace yourself!" I barely have time to react before Mulder pulls out, then shoves back in with bruising force. "And when I finally deign to fuck you, will it be rape?"

The pain is all I can think about. It takes a beat for me to process the words. "No!"

Silence and stillness. My heart is pounding, my hand clenches spasmodically on the plastic sheeting. The fingers slide out, and I take a ragged breath of relief.

Pain. I scream. He's back inside me, bigger. My eyes are wet. "Please!"

He ignores the plea. "No, what, Alex?" He hisses at me.

My ass feels like it's been ripped apart. My throat is tight, holding back tears. "No, it won't be rape!"

When he begins to move his fingers out, I don't dare hope. He rams them back in, his knuckles pounding against my asshole. The first sob escapes. "What will it be?"

The answer is there without conscious thought. "My due." The words are caught in a sob, I try to rectify the mistake, but he batters my ass again. "MY DUE!"

Mulder moves his fingers in me, but it's gentler this time. "Beg me to fuck you."

Oh, no. Please, no. "P-please fuck me."

He thrusts. "Please." Thrust. "Fuck." Thrust. "Me." Thrust. "Mulder." Complete withdrawal, then the fingers are jammed back into me.

"Oh, god..." I've lost any control. Tears drip onto the plastic under my face. "Please fu... fuck m-me, Mulder."

The fingers are gone. I hear the snap of latex. "No."

My shoulders are shaking, but I fight to control myself. He's breaking me too fast. I can't handle it.

Then his face is right next to mine. I blink in confusion, until I realize he's lying next to me. He's so close I can smell the clean musky scent of his skin. His expression is gentle as he wipes away the moisture on my cheek. "If you were a gay man, I wouldn't fuck you for any amount of revenge. You'd like it too much. But I'm going to hit you where it hurts... everywhere it hurts. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. And fucking you is the Triple Crown... hurts you body, mind and soul." His hand is back on my face, stroking my cheek, pushing my hair off my forehead. "Suffering transforms you. It makes you beautiful." He smiles softly. "I prefer you beautiful."

I can't process his words... it's too much. He moves his head even closer to mine. "I'm going to hurt you now. More than I already have." His lips are a featherlike caress as they brush across mine, making them tingle. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," I whisper. "I'm your whipping boy... punish me for your pain."

Mulder's eyes slide shut, his thumb glides back and forth across my cheekbone. When his eyes open, they reflect something close to adoration. "Don't move, Alex."

Then he's gone. I hear him moving around, but don't try to track it, or interpret it. I already feel drained and it's just about to begin. Somehow I know the only way to get through this is to just accept it.

Suddenly there's a line of fire across my back. I register the sensation before the sound. The crack of a whip. The grunt of pain comes from deep inside. The whip lands again, harder this time. "Unh!"

Relentlessly, Mulder works the whip up and down my back. I expect the pain to dull or blur, but each stroke is fresh agony. The groans and grunts of pain are ripped out of me. He covers my back thoroughly. I'm certain there's not an inch untouched by his whip. It becomes a Herculean effort to maintain my position. My leg muscles are aching from stretch and fatigue. The blows keep coming, my body twitching in acknowledgement of each one. My hair is wet with sweat, the perspiration rolling unchecked into my eyes.

The next strike is different. He's moved to my ass. The sensation is more acute. "Mulder, please..." I gasp. A blow lands on the inside of my ass cheek. Oh, god that hurt. My body attempts to recoil, but my position doesn't allow much movement.

When the tip of the whip strikes my anus, I scream. The next stroke doesn't come, leaving me stuck in the fiery pain coming from my ass. Material is shoved into my mouth. Mindlessly, I try to push it out. A ringing slap to my cheek brings me back to focus. The material is shoved back in. Mulder wants me gagged, so I bite on the wad of fabric in my mouth.

Another stripe is laid on my ass. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite harder. The next blow is harder. Then he lays three directly across my asshole. My unchecked screams are caught by the gag.

When the whip lands on the back of my thigh, I could cry with relief. I breathe raggedly through the next few, accepting the pain more easily now. When the whip wraps to my inner thigh, I yell. That shouldn't hurt so badly. But it's so shockingly sensitive, I instinctively try to get my trembling legs together. The muscles don't want to cooperate. The hail of blows stops and I manage to inch my legs closer together. A sharp sting that turns into a deep burn lands on my inner thigh.

"NO!" I scream, but it's just an unintelligible noise. Whatever the object is, it slams into the inside of my other thigh. He goes back and forth, bruising my inner thighs until I get the message. Legs open. I push them apart again, whimpering at the pain. Mercifully, he stops with the horror device, then resumes with the whip, going after the backs of my thighs.

My muscles bunch and tense as the pain continues to mount. The blows begin to fall randomly--one to my thigh, then my ass, then the other thigh. There's no order, no rhythm. My asshole receives a couple more, but each time the whip wraps to my inner thighs, I'm sure I can't cope anymore.

Suddenly, my balls take part of a blow. "AHH!" My body jerks hard. He does it again, with more precision. I can't see or hear. My world is pain. As if my life were a glass being thrown in the fire, I see myself fragment and disappear into the pain.

This is where I need to be. The tension starts to drain away. Mulder is inflicting pain I so desperately need, so I sink into it. My muscles relax and my eyes slide shut. The whip is now working only on my inner thighs. I let it wash over me, and my breathing evens out. The next blow is the hardest I've received. I release my lockjaw grip on the gag.

I calmly wait for the whip. The seconds tick by. "Lie on your stomach." The soft whisper is right by my ear. I release the position and let my body flatten out. Every tiny movement is agonizing. Finally, I'm completely relaxed, prone on the floor, legs splayed open, eyes still closed.

The material is pulled from my mouth. I swallow a few times trying to assuage the dryness. Every inch of skin from my knees to my shoulders hurts, yet I'm calm and content... almost as if I've been drugged.

Mulder's hands are on me, turning and twisting my body. My ass comes in contact with the floor and I groan. Oh, that hurts. He manipulates me until I'm half in his lap, his arms around me, my head on his shoulder. I whimper my distress.

"Open your eyes, Alex." Immediately, I open them. He's watching me, his expression tender. I don't deserve tenderness from him. We simply stare at each other for a long time. My pain doesn't diminish and neither does his tenderness. Then his head descends and his mouth closes over mine. My lips part instantly. This simply must be. His tongue slides inside, exploring my mouth. I moan faintly and my tongue cautiously caresses his. He encourages me as his mouth begins to ravage mine.

Mulder's property... in the long seconds of his kiss, I finally accept it. When he pulls away, I want to ask him not to stop. I don't understand the desire, but it doesn't matter. I open my mouth to speak, not certain what will come out. "You're naked," I observe, voice hoarse.

He chuckles. "Yeah." His hand slides through my damp hair, brushing it off my forehead. "I didn't want your blood on my Armani."

Blood? It doesn't matter. I could be bleeding to death right now, and wouldn't care.

His lips graze my temple. "It's not much. I only drew blood nine times."

I want to shrug, but don't have the energy. "You feel better?" I croak.

Mulder smiles softly. "Yes, I do. You?"

Managing a slight shake of my head, I murmur, "Feel nothing." Please let me hold on to it.

He watches me intently, seeing all the things I've left unsaid. "It's going to be a long weekend," he promises. My eyes slip shut and a smile tugs at my lips. Maybe I do feel something.


** End Abjuration **

25 June 2004

I hope you enjoyed Abjuration.

Abjuration: n. a disavowal of a previous assertion

Zoë


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