Midnight Matinee
by Morticia mort.themad@ntlworld.com
Disclaimer: They aren't mine (but if they were they'd have more fun!)
For Neige.
Pairing: M/K
Warning: Semi non-con.

Mulder relaxed his exhausted body into his seat. He absently fumbled a fistful of popcorn into his mouth, as the room darkened so that the only light was from the flickering screen as the opening credits rolled.

Giant coke in his left hand, family-sized bag of popcorn on his lap, and one of his all time favorite movies about to roll in front of his eyes; Mulder decided that a universe in which he could wander out of his apartment at 2am and find a cinema willing to accept his money wasn't such a bad place after all.

Of course, if the universe were truly a kind place, he wouldn't be too terrified of nightmares to be in bed where he belonged.

He'd tried to sleep. He hadn't been lying to Scully when he had refused the offer of her couch and company, saying he'd sleep better in his own home. Not lying intentionally, anyway. Only, whenever he had closed his eyes, he had been assailed by the horrific vividly Technicolor memory of Juan Baker's corpse. The vision had repeatedly caused him to snap his eyes back open, his stomach heaving and his breath coming in furious panicked gasps.

Mulder doubted he'd ever sleep again.

It wasn't because of the state of Baker's body. Mulder had faced horrors that would have driven a different man insane. He'd seen death in all its various incarnations from brutal butchery to the blessed relief of a peaceful release.  Baker hadn't even been unsightly in death. Because he was lying face-up in the morgue, Mulder had only seen the tiny indentation that had marred his forehead like a black frown. The fact that the bullet had taken out the back of Baker's skull as it had exited was hidden from view. Only the slight hollowness of Baker's eye sockets had suggested the absence of a supporting brain.

The truth was that even in death, Baker had been horrifically handsome.

Mulder flinched from the thought, crammed more popcorn in his mouth, simply to stifle the moan of distress that was threatening to emerge from his throat, and he tried to concentrate on the Jedi dancing across the screen.

The distraction wasn't fully successful, but it helped a little, and since he'd rather suffer his lone anguish than share his personal shame, it was all he could think of doing to try to escape his own mind's assault. After all, what could he possibly say? ## Hey, Scully. You know that unsub you shot dead last night when I was still fumbling with my trigger? Sorry you had to save my butt like that, but the truth is I was too stunned when  the serial killer I had been struggling to catch for six weeks turned out to be a guy who had regularly been IN my butt?"##

No. It wouldn't wash with Scully. How could it, when Mulder couldn't believe it himself?

Skinner would have his butt for sure if he found out that working the case of the slaughtered callboys had woken some long repressed needs within Mulder. It wasn't the gay thing, although he could imagine Skinner finding that distasteful. It was the fact that Mulder had been stupid enough to let himself be picked up by the perp himself. For six weeks the whole team had been working their asses off to catch the killer and, for some of that time, Baker had been hiding in plain sight in Mulder's own bed. Some? Hell. Baker had been in his ass almost the whole six weeks. It hadn't taken Mulder many days of trolling the gay bars of Washington for leads before he had found himself sucked back into a world he thought he had abandoned forever in Oxford. He had been like a Christian thrown to the lions, or more accurately like a starving man thrust unexpectedly into a feast. He had received so many propositions that his head had spun and his lonely body had begun to ache with need.

So it was pure bad luck perhaps that the one man he had found impossible to resist then turned out to be the perp. himself. Unless Baker had deliberately been playing him all along. Mulder had let himself be used by Baker as though he were no more than a green rookie and the knowledge that two of the victims died during those six weeks now gnawed on Mulder's conscience. He didn't know whether he would have been able to prevent the deaths if he hadn't been sleeping with Baker. He'd never know. That was the problem.

Only, to be fair to himself, he hadn't really been as stupid and careless as it now seemed with hindsight. The guy they had been looking for, the guy Mulder had profiled himself, had been a white, middle-class loner, probably unhappily married, with a penchant for underage male prostitutes. A typical serial killer in other words. Not a popular confident half-Hispanic cop who had hit on Mulder with such smooth and suave style that Mulder had collapsed under his spell like an awe-struck teenager.

Sure Baker had been a little secretive at first, but given his job that was understandable, and Mulder had taken the guilty flash in Baker's eyes, when Mulder had first revealed his own occupation, as being simple acknowledgement that they were both playing with fire. They had even discussed the case together, with Baker adding 'helpful' insights into the mind of the 'sick fuck'. He'd played Mulder with such skill that, even now, there was a part of Mulder that almost believed Scully had shot the wrong man after all.

When an anonymous tip had led them to the place where the murders were being committed, before the bodies were dumped in various locations, they had arranged a stakeout. Mulder had recognized Baker straight away, but his first thought on seeing him was that he was either there as a hostage or was part of the stake out team.

Even when Baker had produced the serrated knife that had been a consistent theme of the mutilation of his victims, Mulder's own hand had trembled on his gun as his mind had screamed at him that this was some nightmarish fantasy.

Of course, after they had bagged and tagged Baker's body, they had found his latest would-be victim bound and gagged in the trunk of Baker's own car. The boy had been pretty incoherent but had said he'd been in the trunk for almost a day. The hospital had confirmed that his state of dehydration, and the bruising around his bound wrists and ankles, supported this story.

Which meant that when Mulder had snuck out that lunchtime and sucked Baker off in his car, in the privacy of an underground car park, the victim had already been in the trunk.

Mulder gagged as bile rose in his throat . He gulped desperately at his coke as his eyes filled with tears. At that same moment, the film reached a dramatic scene and the cinema was flooded by a wave of quadraphonic theme music. It drowned the stranger's quiet approach. It was only as Mulder felt the unmistakable kiss of a gun barrel against his neck and the instantaneous arm that slid knowledgeably under his open jacket to remove his own weapon, that Mulder even knew someone had crept into the nearly deserted cinema and had sat down on his right side.

He dropped his coke in surprise and the lid burst off as it exploded on the floor, sending a wave of cold liquid spurting up his legs and those of his assailant.

"Shit," the gunman exclaimed in disgust, and recognizing the voice even through the rousing music of the film, Mulder very carefully turned his head and looked straight into the unmistakable face of Alex Krycek.

Even in the dim light of the theatre, Krycek's eyes were bright and intense in his otherwise emotionless face, and as the light from the screen danced over the familiar features, Mulder felt his body clench in a the same combination of desire and disgust that the younger man's presence always inspired in him.

He doubted Krycek intended to kill him.  Although he had no illusions about his former partner's lethal nature, the cold metal against his skin was too broad in diameter to be a silencer.  Mulder knew an assassin like Krycek wouldn't have planned to shoot him in a public place without one. So Krycek wanted something. The only question was what that something was.

"What do you want?" Mulder snarled, keeping his voice calm despite his discomfiture as Krycek's artificial hand continued to poke around under his jacket.

"These," Krycek purred in triumph, as he located Mulder's own handcuffs and withdrew them. "Learn forward, very carefully, and put your hands behind your back."

"Fuck off, rat bastard," Mulder replied with bravado. Then the on-screen drama moved to a new scene and in the resultant silence, Mulder clearly heard Krycek's finger engage the trigger of his weapon.

"Now," Krycek purred in his ear, and with a gulp of fear Mulder complied, although he was already imagining the ruin he would make of Krycek's mocking face the moment he was free once more.

Krycek cuffed him one-handed, his artificial fingers surprisingly dexterous and sure as they clicked the cuffs tight over Mulder's wrists.

"New hand?" Mulder mocked, as Krycek pushed him back so that his arms were uncomfortably pinned between his spine and the thin upholstery of the seat.

Krycek just grinned and flexed his left fingers pointedly as his right hand slowly released the trigger and clicked the safety back in place.

"Amazing what technology can do these days, isn't it?" he murmured conversationally.

"What do you want?" Mulder demanded.

"Funnily enough, I was wondering the same thing about you," Krycek replied smoothly. "I though I had you figured out, Fox, and now I find that I don't know you at all."

"Don't call me Fox," Mulder growled.

Krycek gave a feral grin. "Believe me, Fox, your name is the last thing I want to discuss. I'm far more interested in your nature!"

"My what?"

"Of course, if I'd known bad boys turned you on so much, we could have been friends so much sooner!"

Mulder shivered, his eyes widening with shock and apprehension. Baker. Somehow Krycek knew about Baker and was going to try and use the information against him.

"Sorry pal," Mulder said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Just because I haven't told anyone about me and Baker doesn't mean you can blackmail me about it. I fucked up, but I didn't do anything wrong. Sure Skinner will ream me a new asshole over who I fucked, but the FBI is an equal opportunities employer these days. I could walk into work tomorrow in a gay pride t-shirt and the only rule I'd be breaking is the dress code."

"Is that what you want?" Krycek purred, pulling Mulder's t-shirt free from his waistband then running his left hand up under the fabric until the gloved digits tapped lightly over Mulder's nipples. Mulder shuddered in response and struggled, only to feel the gun grinding into his neck again. "Skinner?"

"What?" Mulder gulped.

"You said 'Skinner will ream me a new asshole'," Krycek replied easily, then squeezed his fingers shut around Mulder's left nipple. "Is he your fantasy?"

Mulder arched out of his seat, gasping in pain, but the movement only increased the pressure.

"Shit, that hurts," Mulder cried. "Let go of me, you bastard."

"It's made of titanium," Krycek murmured. "It responds to the natural electrical impulses of my own arm, but it doesn't feel anything and I sometimes forget my own strength. I suggest you answer the question before I accidentally rip your tit off, Fox."

"Fuck off and die," Mulder replied defiantly, although tears of pain were now streaming down his cheeks.

"Of course, I could always squeeze your balls instead," Krycek threatened with a wide grin. "You ever wanted to sing soprano?"

"And I could scream my head off for help," Mulder pointed out.

"I have my gun. I have your gun. There are half-a-dozen employees in the foyer and a couple dozen people between the fire escape and me. Which ones do you want me to shoot? Make any noise, attract any attention, and I'll put a bullet through the first person who tries to help you." Krycek smirked. He enjoyed the look of shocked helplessness on Mulder's face for a moment, then released Mulder's agonized nipple. He watched Mulder writhe as the blood returned to the now numb flesh, then transferred his hand to the other nipple and squeezed lightly. "Shall we make it a matching pair or are you going to answer my question now, Fox?"

"What question?" Mulder gulped, trying to buy time as he judged his chances of escaping. Poor. Exceedingly poor, and he couldn't risk involving any innocents in this. He had no doubt Krycek would make good his threat if he felt cornered.

"Skinner," Krycek growled impatiently. "He your fantasy?"

"NO," Mulder protested.

"Hush," Krycek warned, twisting Mulder's nipple cruelly as a couple of heads turned in irritation at Mulder's exclamation.

Mulder sobbed but held his breath.

"I don't believe you," Krycek proclaimed, releasing Mulder's tit and moving his hand downward to fumble at his belt instead.

"No," Mulder yelped in terror as he realized where Krycek's hand was aiming.

"I'm going to put down my weapon. You are going to stand up, very quietly, and let me remove your pants," Krycek told him in a chillingly calm voice. "If you struggle, if you make even one protest, I am going to empty both guns into those poor bastards, and then you can explain to their families why they are dead. Do you understand me?"

"Why are you doing this?" Mulder begged, although he found himself slowly struggling to his feet in terrified obedience.

"Because I've decided it's time we got to know each other better, Fox," Krycek purred. "You've suddenly become so much more interesting than I ever imagined you'd be."

"Look," Mulder said desperately, "why don't we get out of here. You can take me somewhere private and do whatever you intend to do. I won't fight you."

"Fox," Krycek tutted sorrowfully. "Do I look stupid? Why the hell would I give up my advantage? As long as we are here, you won't dare misbehave and we will both enjoy ourselves far more, believe me."

Mulder closed his eyes in despair as he felt Krycek bend down and unfasten his sneakers. He had a fleeting image of himself smashing his own head down on top of Krycek's skull but he couldn't risk the safety of the other people in the cinema. Then, as Krycek unfastened his jeans and slid them down his hips, he shivered in a combination of humiliation and cold.

"Commando?" Krycek chuckled. "Were you *hoping* to get lucky, Fox? That why you came out, huh? Lover boy's dead so you were looking for a new fuck? Looks like we're both in luck tonight."

Mulder flinched, but forced his voice to remain calm as he answered.

"Listen you sick bastard. If you want to rape me, just fucking do it and piss off back to whatever hole you crawled out of. Just don't kid yourself that it's anything more than that."

"Rape you?" Krycek replied in a voice so full of hurt that Mulder gaped at him in surprise. "I'm not here to rape you, Fox. I'm here to cheer you up."

"WHAT?"

"Quiet," Krycek hissed, pushing Mulder down so quickly that he bounced as his bare ass hit the seat.

"You are one seriously sad and fucked-up man, Alex Krycek," Mulder snarled. "You cuff me, threaten me, strip me, nearly rip my fucking nipples off and threaten to shoot a dozen civilians and this is supposed to cheer me up?"

Krycek grinned.

"I didn't think a bunch of roses would do it," he replied.

"*Nothing* will do it," Mulder replied distinctly.

"You think so?" Krycek said, with a smile, and then sank gracefully to the floor between Mulder's legs.

"Jesus, what are you.fuck, Krycek, get off me, don't- Oh fuck," Mulder groaned, as Krycek licked delicately at his cock and then sucked it between his hot, velvet soft lips.

Mulder fought his body for control but lost. His cock stiffened as soon as Krycek began humming merrily along with the music blaring from the screen. The vibrations, combined with the soft, wet heat, were impossible to resist. Mulder felt his balls drawing up towards his body even as humiliated tears pooled in his eyes.

A wanted felon, the murderer of his father, the abductor of Scully, the betraying Judas who had sold out everyone and everything that Mulder treasured, was on his knees between Mulder's legs, sucking him into a blissful state of arousal. Between Baker's betrayal and that of his own body, Mulder wanted to howl in anguish. Instead, horribly aware of the vulnerable people in the other seats, Mulder bit down fiercely on his lower lip to stifle his sobs as Krycek masterfully brought him to the brink of orgasm. And then stopped.

"Fucker," Mulder spat, his whole body arching in distress as Krycek removed his wet caress. He knew he should be grateful that Krycek hadn't forced him into the humiliation of coming, but now all he was aware of was the burning pain in his balls and nipples, and the slow, sensuous way Krycek was licking his lips teasingly, mere centimeters from Mulder's swollen, weeping cock.

"That's the idea," Krycek confirmed, so smugly that Mulder's stomach churned and his erection wilted slightly. "Don't worry, Fox. I'm like a boy scout. I always come prepared."

Krycek reached into his leather jacket and withdrew lube and condoms with a flourish.

"Please," Mulder whimpered.

"God, you're such a slut," Krycek chuckled, as he reached down to unzip his own jeans.

"I meant please stop, you bastard," Mulder snarled, his face flushing so deeply with embarrassment that it was obvious even in the dim light. "Don't do this Krycek."

"My name's Alex," Krycek replied sadly, as he released his own impressive cock and stroked it to a proud erection. "Under the circumstances, you should at least try to be nice to me."

Mulder gaped at him in complete disbelief, only to find his eyes drawn inexorably down to where Krycek was expertly rolling a condom over himself and then slicking a generous amount of lube over the rubber until it glistened with sinister promise. Mulder squirmed in dismay as his own cock went rigid in response.

Krycek saw the reaction and smirked.

"This what you want?" he purred.

"NO," Mulder spat.

Krycek just sighed in disappointment at Mulder's unappreciative attitude. Then he grabbed Mulder by the knees, pulled him viciously until he was at the edge of his seat and then threw his legs up to rest on the backs of the empty seats of the row in front. He thoroughly lubed his right index finger and pressed it against the small dark indentation between Mulder's ass cheeks.

"No," Mulder whimpered, as he felt the finger poke his anus. He clenched his ass muscles tightly together, refusing entrance.

Krycek just smirked, leant forward between Mulder's legs and licked his balls.

Mulder arched off the seat in reaction, his own weight crushing his now numb arms, his head braced at a painful angle against the back of the seat and his legs flailing helplessly on their supports. He'd never been so uncomfortable in his life. Neither had be been so turned on.

He couldn't believe it, but his very helplessness was turning this into an erotic experience like he'd never imagined possible and, unlike his shame over falling for Baker's seduction, he was blameless in this. He hadn't invited Krycek to touch him. He was helpless to resist because of the other people in the cinema, and he was no more able to prevent his own body's reaction than any other person could in his circumstances.

He was being raped, this wasn't his choice, and in that fact alone Mulder found the freedom to stop fighting his own mounting desire. With a deep groan of defeat he relaxed his muscles to allow the invasion and closed his eyes to hide from Krycek's perceptive gaze.

Krycek felt Mulder's ass relax and his finger breached the tight hot channel with ease. Despite his own excitement and Mulder's helplessness, he took his time and rewarded Mulder's capitulation with a slow careful preparation.

He'd dreamt of this moment for years. Mulder in his arms. His dick in Mulder's ass as he experienced the bliss of driving Mulder out of his mind with passion.

If he'd known Mulder was bi, he'd have made a move on him before his own treacherous nature was revealed. Afterwards, he'd occasionally envisaged a scene where he kidnapped Mulder and simply brutally took what would never be freely given. He'd never been able to go through with it, though. Even when Mulder had physically abused him, Krycek had been incapable of fighting back.

He didn't kid himself he was anything but a killer. He knew that Mulder would never agree to a relationship with him. Mulder was too good to voluntarily stain himself with the evil that was Alex Krycek.

Still, he could never bring himself to actually harm Mulder and because he had thought Mulder to be straight, there had been no scenario Krycek could imagine that wouldn't leave Mulder harmed, mentally at least, from his touch.

Then Mulder had started dating Baker.

He'd already been fucking the guy for a couple of weeks by the time Krycek made his occasional furtive check into the life and times of Agent Fox Mulder. After his initial burst of rage, Krycek had immediately set out to check Baker out.

It had been jealousy, at first. To find out, after all these years, that Mulder was bi, and then to discover he was being fucked by some squeaky-clean cop, had been enough to drive Krycek off into the deep end. It hadn't taken him long to discover that Baker was living a double life. Whatever secret satisfaction Krycek had felt in discovering that Mulder had fallen for a guy so evil that he made Krycek look clean, had been drowned in his terror that Baker would tire of using Mulder as a cover. After that it wouldn't be long before he did the same to Mulder as he was regularly doing to his victims.

So he had sent the envelope with the location of Baker's killing ground. He deliberately hadn't told the FBI who the murderer was because he was too scared that Mulder would try and apprehend the guy himself.

Mulder owed him. He'd saved Mulder's sweet ass, and he was simply collecting his reward in the only way that they could both survive the experience unharmed.

By the time Krycek had three fingers sawing and punching in Mulder's ass, the grunts emerging form the older man were distinctly more excited than pained. Krycek withdrew his hand, grinning at the involuntary groan that escaped Mulder's throat, and so he wasn't fooled by Mulder's next protest.

"Please, Krycek. ALEX. Don't do this to me. Please," Mulder begged.

"Fox, I'm going to fuck you until my cum comes out of your mouth, and then I'm going to fuck you some more. By the time my cock finishes with your ass, you will have forgotten that bastard Baker ever touched you," Krycek promised quietly.

Mulder gave a choking sob of sudden understanding.

"It was you, wasn't it? You gave me the location."

"Course I did, and if Scully hadn't shot the bastard, I'd have taken him out myself before he touched you, Fox."

"You were there?"

"I'm always there, Fox."

"Why?"

"Because he was fucking with your head, and no one fucks with your head except me. Just like no one fucks your ass except me. Understand?"

"Fuck you."

"No, Fox. Fuck you," Krycek chuckled, rising to his feet. He had to crouch a little to angle his entry, but the sting of protest in his calf muscles was more than compensated for by the tight, hot delight of Mulder's ass as it embraced his cock. He paused, half-sheathed, allowing Mulder to adjust to his girth, then with bizarre humor reached for Mulder's own gun and waved it in front of his face.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

Mulder's eyes immediately lost their slightly hazy expression and widened with fear.

"I'm going to fuck you hard and fast, " Krycek explained, "and I think you might be a bit noisy, so just in case, I'm giving you something to bite on."

"Shit, Alex. Don't." Mulder begged.

Krycek just smirked,  deliberately allowing Mulder to misunderstand. Then, with a chuckle, he unloaded the gun and gently pressed the handle sideways between Mulder's teeth. He waited until Mulder's jaw clenched, then he thrust the rest of the way inside his ass until his balls were crushed against Mulder's own.

"I'm too hot to take it slow," he apologized, as he began to ram himself violently in and out of the tight sheath. "Let me get this one out of the way, then I'll make it good for you."

Mulder's only answer was a series of grunts as Krycek's cock brutalized him. He was too well prepared and experienced for Krycek's thrusts to truly hurt him, but the shock of being taken so brutally was overloading his own senses. Unlike Baker's almost too gentle consideration, which had turned out to be the biggest irony of all, Krycek was simply taking his own pleasure in Mulder's ass, using him like he was no more than a whore or a piece of meat. The most humiliating thing was that Mulder was so stimulated by the aggressive fucking that he was going to come himself without so much as Krycek touching him.

##Oh god, no!## Mulder prayed, as his balls tightened and threatened to explode. He could imagine the way his rapist would mock him if he came, he could already see the contempt on Krycek's face as he proved himself to be the slut Krycek had called him. Mulder frantically willed himself not to react, tried telling himself over and over that he was being raped, that this was *not* the hottest sex he'd ever experienced.

Krycek pulled back, until only his cockhead was still inside Mulder, and then used his entire body weight to thrust forward again. Mulder's neck almost snapped against the back of the seat, his whole body arched in reaction, and he came so explosively that his cum splattered Krycek's chin. As he writhed in orgasm, his ass clenched tightly around its invader, his inner muscles rippling down the length of Krycek's cock so that he gave a muted bellow and came in a series of powerful thrusts. Then, as Krycek heaved for breath he pushed his softening dick deeper into Mulder's ass,  as though he wanted to retain the connection between them as he leant forward to tongue and lick at Mulder's red, swollen nipples.

The gun tumbled from Mulder's mouth as he too gasped for breath.

"My neck," he groaned.

"What?" Krycek mumbled into his chest.

"You nearly broke my neck," Mulder whined.

Krycek frowned in seemingly genuine concern as he finally noticed the weird angle that Mulder's head was stuck in.  He was surprisingly gentle as he lowered Mulder's legs one at a time and helped him into a sitting position. Then, as Mulder tried to decide whether sitting on his now battered ass was much of an improvement, Krycek surprised him again by massaging gently between Mulder's shoulder blades. Mulder gave a sigh of contentment and closed his eyes, accepting the embrace, still too stunned by his orgasm to gather any thoughts of resistance. His ass was burning where Krycek's cock had battered it, yet it also felt empty and abandoned.

## Oh god, I am a slut,## he decided, but he didn't want to think about that, didn't want to think about anything, because Krycek had returned his attention to Mulder's cock and was licking the traces of his orgasm from the now over-sensitized head. Mulder squirmed, unsure whether the sensation was pain or pleasure as Krycek thrust his tongue against the salty slit and tried to probe inside.

"No," Mulder gasped, eventually. "Stop, Alex. Please."

To his disbelief, he could feel himself growing hard once more although he had just come harder than he had in his entire life. Krycek looked up with a shit-eating grin.

"Your mouth says 'no', Fox, but your cock says 'yes'," he pointed out reasonably. "Which one of you is lying?"

Mulder looked at him in despair, conscious that Krycek's own cock was beginning to darken and stiffen again too.

"Look," he finally blurted. "If you're going to rape me again, just get on with it!"

He felt guilty when Krycek's eyes met his and he saw an expression that could only be hurt in the green eyes. Yet, Krycek again gave him an out. Again agreed to play the game.

"Damn right I'm going to rape you again," Krycek snapped, and was kind enough to again not mention the way Mulder's cock jerked in excitement. "Get up and lean over the seat," he growled, pointing Mulder so that he was facing the screen. Then he kicked Mulder's legs apart and entered him without warning.

Mulder cried out, but his voice was lost in the cacophony of the space battle that was ensuing on screen. This time, as Krycek took his time, sliding his still only semi-hard dick in and out of Mulder's ass as though to soothe away the brutality of his earlier assault, Mulder allowed himself to shudder with reaction. He gasped each time Krycek slid skillfully against his prostate and found himself thrusting back to embrace each gentle but powerful stroke.

"I love you, Fox," Krycek whispered into his ear.

Mulder went rigid with shock, and then began to laugh almost hysterically at the idea. As though stung by Mulder's reaction, Krycek seemed to suddenly remember his earlier promise to fuck Mulder until he couldn't walk. His thrusts became brutal once more as he used the advantage of his standing position now to slam repeatedly into Mulder's ass, obviously uncaring of the bruises that were forming on Mulder's hip bones as he was smashed into the back of the seat.

Mulder was biting his lip so hard that blood was trickling down his chin. He was too aware of all the people in the front rows that might turn around and see him being buggered senseless behind them.

It came to him suddenly that he no longer believed Krycek had ever had any intention of shooting anyone tonight, and equally, he was less concerned about their safety than the fact that if they were discovered, Krycek would slip away into the shadows and disappear, leaving Mulder with a hard-on and a dripping ass.

It was only with that thought that he realized Krycek hadn't put on a new condom.

A new kind of terror struck him and he struggled desperately, but it was too late. Masking his roar of triumph by biting savagely down on Mulder's right shoulder, Krycek erupted inside him, filling Mulder with hot cum. Despite his fear, the heat flowed straight to Mulder's own groin and for the second time he came from no other stimulation than Krycek's abuse of his ass.

This second orgasm ripped not only through his cock, but also seemingly through his head. He felt himself spinning, his vision blurring as a black veil shuttered down over his eyes. His legs folded beneath him and he collapsed over the seat back struggling desperately for consciousness.

He felt the cuffs unfastened and fresh pain surged through him as blood began to tingle through his previously numb arms. The additional pain was too much. He spun towards unconsciousness and Krycek's words sounded far away as he whispered in Mulder's ear.

"You're mine now, Fox. Don't forget it."

Mulder tried to reply, but he was falling into blackness and the sound of Krycek's voice ,and the music of the film, faded into white noise.

He awoke alone. The film was over and the cinema was plunged into complete darkness except for the green neon sign that still blinked above the Fire Exit.

It seemed that he had slipped to the floor and was lying between two rows of seats. His jeans and even his sneakers had been replaced and only the burning, sticky discomfort in his ass was proof that he hadn't imagined the whole humiliating experience.

## You bastard, Krycek ## he thought, as a dart of fear struck him. God only knew what diseases the rat bastard carried. Yet, a small voice inside him whispered that Krycek would never have risked coming inside him if he weren't clean.

'I love you', Krycek had said, and although it was obviously as twisted an emotion as the man himself, Mulder had the peculiar feeling that he had meant it.

Mulder waited in vain for a feeling of outrage to fill him at the memory of what Krycek had done. He felt too calm to feel anger. He decided he was stunned and in shock maybe. Even the pain of Baker's abuse had fled him in the wake of Alex Krycek's 'assault' and Mulder had the feeling that if he returned home to bed now, instead of being filled with the nightmare memory of Baker, he would meet Krycek in his dreams.

Oddly enough, Mulder decided as he limped slowly towards the Fire Exit, the thought of dreaming about Krycek wasn't entirely unwelcome.

The End

Archived: November 02, 2001