Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Beautiful [X-Files]

Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Beautiful
by Jennifer-Oksana
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
rating/warning/description: NC-17 M/K slash, features the return of Mean
Little Bastard Alex, spoilers for SR 819.
disclaimer: Don’t sue me, CC and 1013! I am so poor it’s not worth it!

Right now, I look like Brad Pitt in Kalifornia. Skanky and fried. It can’t
be helped. I have to disguise myself like this or risk some severely
unpleasant consequences.

A pity about the Old Guy. He’s discovered that straddling the fence just
can’t work. Sooner or later, you’ll just have to fall. And his was a
magnificent fall. If you’ve never seen a man lock his soul in a box just
to live on, it’s really the most hideously pleasurable experience to
watch. The pain actually starts to rise off a man in waves. After watching
that sort of agony, making someone just bleed seems so inelegant.

But ol’ Skinner’s been neutralized, and when he looked into the face of
Scully and Mulder and closed them out of his heart, I knew he was lost,
and worse for him, he knew he was lost. So I decided to pay him a little
visit, wearing my real face, so he knew I had his balls in my fist. It
felt good, I admit it, it felt real good.

I visited Skinner as myself. Mulder gets the mask. Mulder gets a brand-new
Alex-face to bruise. Oh, my idiot boy, my sweet boy, I have missed you. I
look at myself in the mirror over his waterbed. Mulder, Mulder, Mulder,
have your lips been kissing someone else’s? Someone besides me?

The door bangs open and I arrange myself in a chair in the bedroom and
wait. I listen to his footsteps cross the threshold, cross the living
room, and settle– on the couch. Damn, I was looking forward to some
waterbed action. I wait five more minutes, and creep into the living room.
The comforting buzz of the television stains my boy’s face grey and green
and gold. I feel like a cat stalking my dinner, ready to pounce and then
play–

I’ve got him trapped under my body and my hand across his mouth before he
can utter a syllable.

“Evening, lover. Recognize me?” I ask with a wry grin. “Or is it too
Superman-Clark Kent for you?”

He bites my hand. I pull it away and slap him across the cheek.

“You– Skinner–” he hisses.

“Oh, Mulder. I’d never cheat on you with that hunk of meat. You know I’ve
only got eyes for you,” I say, squeezing my thighs around him tighter.

“You poisoned him.”

“I *saved* him. He’s alive because of *me*. I’m a hero, really. Don’t you
have a kiss for your hero?” I whisper, flicking his earlobe with my
tongue. “Don’t I deserve a proper welcome?”

“Sure. Just let me get my weapon,” he says. I chuckle and shake my head.

“Oh, so you wanna play rough, hey, beautiful?” I whisper, kissing down the
side of his jaw, against the rough patches of stubble. “I know how you
like that. Just tell me what to do.”

“Get off me.”

“Get you off? Well, of course, but I’m askin’ how.”

I press against him, letting him know how hard I am, and how patient I’m
being. I need it so bad I should just flip him over and ride him like a
cowboy. But I’ve been mercy and justice lately, you know? He whimpers, and
his hands, which have been struggling against me, fall limp at his sides.

“Oh, Mulder,” I say in mock despair. “You’re not just gonna lay there, are
you?”

He stares up at me, a lost little lamb. His lower lip, though, is plump
and unchaste, and just begging for kisses. I can’t deny its magnetic
charm. I run my lips over his, generating heat. And when Mulder’s hot
tongue finally lashes across my teeth, demanding entry, I let him in,
rubbing my hand up and down his chest. He groans, shifting up under the
touch.

I break our kiss, and pull the lube and condoms out of my jacket. “For
later, I promise,” I say, setting them on the coffee table and awkwardly
shrugging out of my jacket. “Talk to me, Mulder.”

“You’re driving me crazy, Krycek,” he growls, slipping his hands under my
shirt and yanking it off. “I’m so hot and I can barely fuckin’ breathe
here–”

“Oh, poor Mulder. He’s getting all hot and bothered,” I say coyly. “I
guess he wants something.”

He glares up at me. “You know I do.”

“Tell me,” I whisper. “Say it.”

“You’re one mean bastard, Alex,” he snaps. “I want you. I want you in me
and I want you to fuck me hard.”

I smile. “Well, that shouldn’t be too hard. Let me just stand up here, and
you get all nice and nekkid for me now. And then I’ll make it all better.”

I stand up and strip. I stare at him, hell; I leer at him, as he removes
his clothes. I make sure he sees me lick my lips wantonly, waiting and
grinning. I’m the cat again, and Mulder’s right between my paws–

Finally, he’s naked and vulnerable against the black leather of the couch,
and I move gracefully, kneeling down beside him. I rub his back, slowly
drawing circles on his ass. He groans again, arching up like a needy slut,
showing his need. I press kisses into his tense spine, and he moans
harder. Maybe if I had the willpower, I’d hold out until he started to
beg–

“Please,” I hear him whimper. His cry goes straight to my groin, and I
hastily start to slick him up, causing another whimper. Oh my God, my God,
I can’t take this. I finish up with the doldrums of preparation, and push
into him slowly, until I’m all the way in tight.

I start thrusting against him, slow and hard. I move rough, and sweet
little Mulder goes and moans again. He’s twisting and writhing beneath me,
causing the best sort of friction. He’s so tight and hot and sweet, and
the skin of his back is so soft and warm against my chest. He makes me
ache to my toes. I reach around and pet him, in short, cruel little
strokes.

He stiffens, and his moaning gets to be an honest-to-God wailin’. I press
into him harder, about ready to split him in two, and start jerking him
rough. He moans into the couch leather, desperately trying to muffle the
sound. I just ride him tougher until the friction is just too good and too
much. I come, the sensation flooding my entire body, as I stroke Mulder
until he wails and comes hard in my hand.

For a minute, I am wet and heavy against him, but I refuse to lose myself
against his body. I peck him on the cheek and roll off him. “It was good
for me,” I call to him, his face hidden in the black fabric. “Did Mulder
have a good time, too, sweet cheeks?”

He doesn’t answer, just lies there. I dress, because I’m a busy man with
appointments and work and life to take care of. I walk over to the couch
to grab my jacket and I hear something from Mulder. It sounds like a sob.

“Aww, Mulder,” I say, pulling on my jacket. “That was a real good hero’s
welcome. You be a good boy now, and I’ll come back to see you real soon,
okay?”

I plant another kiss in his hair and walk out. I don’t bother to lock the
door, and I don’t look back.

THE END

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