X-Files M/K Fight Club Tour
Author: Nicole S.
Rating: NC-17 for bad language, violence and very unsafe m/m sex.
Archive : You betcha baby.
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Disclaimer: Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox own 'em.
broke I can barely afford the electricity to type this - don't sue me.
Summary: This is for the Fight Club tour
- check it out at http://punched.com/mkfightclub
Comments: Amy, Aries and Ori betad and squealed - that's when I knew I had done my job well. Warning - I have a two-armed Krycek and I know how to use him!
"Keen" by Nicole S.
That punch Mulder had given me a few minutes ago hurt more than his hastily prepared cock now pushing into my unprepared asshole. How the hell had Mulder caught me off guard like that? He slugged me, I fell to the ground, and the next thing I knew that fucker was pressing my body over on a picnic table in a park in Fell's Point, Baltimore, drooling onto my neck and doing that little grunting/moaning thing into my ear he always made as he thrust into me. Yeah, that fucking sound of smugness, the sound of a winner. And fuck, wasn't it just getting me off too?
I heard Mulder's grunt catch in the back of his throat, and I knew he was close. I couldn't reach my cock; he had my hands pinned above my head. I wondered if he was going to leave me like the first time he had won. Mulder had taken his prize and just left me there gripping that chain link fence just off of Michigan Avenue near Tiger Stadium in Detroit. Shit, if that wasn't dangerous enough...
I got distracted as he finally did reach down and grab my cock, and I let out a relieved sigh as he began stroking along its length. He grunted louder, but I barely heard him, as my orgasm was close. All I could feel was Mulder fucking me like there was no tomorrow, the keen sensation of his cock sliding in me like a knife scratching a wound.
I felt his body spasm and jitter as he came hard. I wasn't that far behind. Hell I'd almost come from that punch I had given Mulder in the face earlier. That unmistakable crunch of broken cartilage heard in the still summer night was a sweet symphony of pain. I came hard on his hand, on the picnic table, on the grass below, and he pressed down on me again, just still for a moment before he pulled away.
He helped me to my feet and now pushed me backward into the table as he kissed me violently.
"I'm beginning to like winning, Krycek," he said. "And I'm pretty sure your ass likes it as well."
Before I could give him a smart-ass reply, Mulder's mouth covered my own again, tongue probing inside. I matched him stroke for stroke, and soon we were gasping for more again. He took me again, this time on the soft grass in the park face to face, short and brutal like he always did.
Now we were on the grass, panting, spent, and I reached over to my jacket which had fallen under the table for the kleenex I had put in a pocket earlier. I cleaned myself up as Mulder did the same to himself, wondering whose spots of blood were whose and wondering which would stain leather more, blood or come?
Mulder smirked at me as he pulled his tattered shirt over his now bruised body. He strode over to me and gave me one last searing kiss before he pulled back, "Till next time. And I'm gonna win again, next time." Then he was gone.
~~~~~three months later~~~~~
I had been grinning the day I had hit *send* on the e-mail to Mulder. I was nearly jumping up and down in my chair as I thought of what was to happen a week from then - right now.
"25th and 4th, Minneapolis, Minnesota."
I was purposely late as I drove up University and cut through the Days Inn parking lot to 4th. I had picked this place on purpose and had been casing it for the past two days. It was a former grain elevator and seldom used storage facility for the Pillsbury Company. The security was lax; they came around once an evening, shone a light on it from the street then buggered off. I had been inside and thought it would be the perfect place to take my victory fuck.
I turned the lights off as I rounded the corner to the building, and there he was, leaning against his car, dressed in jeans and a grey t- shirt. Fuck, he looked sexy, even in that. My cock started to swell, and I forced myself to calm down; we were a long way from that point in our evening.
His arms were folded across his chest, and he was glaring at me as I pulled up beside him. I smiled sweetly at him as I opened the door.
"You're late!" he snarled, fists ready and clenching. I was excited. I knew he'd be pissed off by my tardiness, and I was going to milk it for all it was worth. He lunged at me and started hitting me as soon as I got out of the car, his punches fast and furious in my abdomen. I took them in, the blows knocking the wind right out of me. I managed to block a few and got in a few good shots myself, but I held back, letting him pummel me for all it was worth.
After a few minutes, Mulder's adrenaline rush had worn off somewhat, and he stood back to take a breath - that's when I struck. I used all my strength and knocked him into his car, hearing a cry as the small of his back got the brunt of the side mirror. I then knocked him forward into my car and gave him a few shots in the kidneys. I love the sound he makes when he's holding back a groan; it turns me on so fucking much. It was all he could do to keep up with me as I dragged him by the hair into the old grain elevator.
The air was dry and had a yeasty smell to it as I kicked open the door and threw him inside. He let out a real groan this time as he hit the floor and skidded along it. His shirt was ripped, and his jeans had a hole in them. I didn't bother to take inventory of my own clothing, as I was too busy taking him in. His nose was bleeding, and I knew a fabulous bruise was probably starting from that mirror. I nearly licked my lips as he stood up and came at me again.
I punched him in the gut, and then he got me good in the side of the head, making my ear ring.
"You think you're gonna win, Krycek? Not a fucking chance."
I cracked him up against the jaw, a scream leaving his mouth as he bit his tongue.
"Yeah, I'm winning, baby," I purred as I watched the blood gush out of his mouth. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and I knew I'd really pissed him off. He spat to the side and came at me again, this time grabbing my throat and choking me. I gripped his arms and tried to push him away, but that just made him hold on to me tighter.
My oxygen supply was diminishing sharply, and I couldn't even gasp if I'd wanted to. Everything was going black, and the more I tried to grab his fingers to break them off of my throat, the harder it was to do so. He snarled at me, his teeth red from blood, and that's when I did the only thing I could do at that point. I kicked him in the nuts.
My knee contacted with the bulge in his jeans, and I knew that had to hurt like a motherfucker. His face fell and his body crumpled, taking me with him with a loud thud. He released the deathgrip on my neck and I finally was able to gasp for air, grateful for the air that suddenly filled my lungs.
We lay there for a minute, me finally breathing; him trying to quell what I could only imagine was a shooting pain throughout his cock and balls. I looked over at him rolling around on the floor and moaning. I knew this was my chance and took it. I cuffed him to a heavy metal table bolted to the floor before he had even started to wonder what had happened. When he finally realized what kind of situation he was in, he spat again and started to speak.
"Wait..." he sputtered. "We said no cuffs."
"We said no cuffs while fighting." I got close to his face and breathed onto him, "We never said no cuffs while fucking."
His mouth opened in protest, but I quickly muffled any sounds he was making by shoving my tongue down his throat. I could taste the coppery tang of his blood in my mouth, and my cock swelled to aching proportions. I could just rip off my jeans and fuck him with no lube right now, but now that I'd beaten the hell out of him, I wanted him to remember why he knew he liked it so much.
I literally tore the shirt from his body and flung it aside then raked my fingernails over his nipples again and again until he squirmed in his bonds.
His begging just made my cock harder.
He turned his head to spit again, and I removed my t-shirt and used it to wipe the blood and the dirt from his face. He looked up at me with that 'fuck me' look he reluctantly got when he lost. There was no denying that Fox Mulder liked losing as much as he liked winning, slut that he was.
I reached down and caressed the throbbing bulge in his jeans before I undid the button and zipper and dipped my hand inside. A relieved sigh left his lips as I wrapped my hand around his cock for an instant then removed the rest of his clothing.
And there he was, laid out before me like the prize that he had come to be. I took off my jeans and lubed up my cock with the contents of the small tube I had placed in my pocket earlier, having decided that taking him dry wasn't what I really wanted that night. I lifted his legs onto my shoulders and thrust inward, a thrill running through me as a cry left his lips.
He was whimpering, "God, fuck me, Alex," like a mantra as I pounded into him, taking everything he had to give. I even reached down and stroked him to completion, his come spattering his blood speckled chest, making a mosaic of red and off-white. When I was done, I collapsed forward on top of him, smearing the bodily fluids together.
After a few minutes, I uncuffed him, and we sat there for a few minutes more, kissing and licking away the evidence of our confrontation. I kissed him one more time before getting dressed, looking back before I was to walk out the door. There was something in his face, something that told me I should run away and never see him again, but I knew that was impossible.
"Next time, it's your choice, Mulder."
He nodded and grinned as he reached for his torn jeans. "I know. Till then."
"Till then," I said and walked out the door.