Extreme Measures (9/?)

Extreme Measures (9/?)

by Sagittarius325

Title: Extreme Measures - Chapter Nine
Author: Sagittarius325
Email: Sagittarius325@hotmail.com
Part: 9 of ?
Season: Five - Post The End/Pre Fight the Future
Spoilers: Deep Throat, Tooms, Ascension, Apocrypha, Little Green Men, Memento Mori, Pine Bluff Variant, Folie a Deux, Patient X, The Red and The Black, The End, Fight the Future, any Alex Krycek episode
Rating: NC-17 most definitely
Pairing: Mulder/other, Mulder/Krycek
Warnings: This fic depicts extremely graphic m/m interaction, rape, non-consensual sex, violence and bad language. If any of these subjects offends you, if you are underage or the laws of your country prohibit you from reading such material, then go no further.
Summary: When interests converge, the Consortium goes to extreme and horrifying lengths to destroy Mulder.
Disclaimer: The characters Mulder, Krycek, Scully, Skinner, Cancer Man, Well Manicured Man etc are the properties of CC and other fortunate people. No infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Angst and Alex and sex, oh my :)

CHAPTER NINE - Endings...
The motel parking lot was deserted, the neon sign that advertised vacant rooms shorted out by the sudden deluge of rain. Alex turned off the ignition and glanced at Mulder, then out at the weather, running a hand down his rough, bruised cheek. It was too late now to head for Washington, the roads dangerous with the possibility of flooding and damnit, he needed sleep and a warm bed. Another glance at Mulder's silent, shivering frame settled the matter and Alex slid out of the driver's seat, hurrying across the flooded concrete to the shelter of the main building.
He opted for just the one room, all the better to keep an eye on Mulder, and gave the bored looking man at the front desk a baleful glare, forestalling any comments.
"Hey, none of my business," the proprietor said, around the butt of a dead end cigar, raising his palms. He tossed the key over while he counted Krycek's money.
Outside, the rain continued to fill the parking lot, flooding potholes, drumming on the small tin roof above Alex's head. Jerking up his collar, he jogged over to the car, grabbing the door handle to peer inside.
It was empty. With a curse, Alex swung around, searching desperately through the cascade and sighted Mulder a moment later. Statuesque, the FBI Agent was standing beneath the torrential rain, staring at nothing in the darkness, out into nowhere at all.
Running to his side, Alex grabbed a stiff, soaking arm and shook him. "You stupid bastard," he yelled, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard over the clamour of the weather.
Mulder didn't appear to hear him, didn't acknowledge his presence, and Alex began to feel a creeping sense of concern. Taking the arm, he tugged gently and Mulder turned, stumbling slightly as if under some terrible burden.
"Let's get inside," Alex shouted, over a flash of lightning that lit up Mulder's frozen, haunted features.
Wrestling him into their room, Alex booted the door shut, flicking back wet hair from his eyes. Mulder continued to stand where Alex had pushed him, water dripping off his ruined clothes to pool on the grubby carpet at his feet. He had ceased to shiver, Alex realised, and he reached up to tentatively touch Mulder's face, feeling it clammy and as cold as his plastic hand.
"You need to warm up," he told Mulder, stripping off his own jacket, peeling back the layers of clothing that stuck to skin, real and fake alike.
When Mulder failed to respond, Alex heaved an impatient sigh and did it for him. Whatever was going on inside that complex, cracked psyche of his, Mulder wasn't sharing. Manhandling his damp, naked, six foot frame into the bathroom wasn't as much fun as Alex had imagined either, though he did steal a look at Mulder's fantastic ass. He flipped on the shower, waiting until the rattling heater kicked in before pushing Mulder beneath.
It was like bathing a child. A subdued, docile Mulder was something Alex had never before encountered and it rattled him to think the brilliant, contradictory Agent might be gone forever.
But no. He'd seen flashes of that Mulder before the woods, before the clearing. Whatever was going on inside that wonderfully labyrinthine mind, it had nothing to with Alex and everything to do with Mulder's loss...of his evidence, his innocence, and, ultimately, the loss of himself. Feeling a pang of empathy, Alex reached out and pushed back the seal-slick hair, cupping Mulder's face in one hand.
"Don't let them win," he whispered, harshly, yet keeping his grip gentle. "Don't let those fuckers have you, Mulder."
There was a flicker, something, in Mulder's face and, emboldened, Alex stepped closer, letting the water from the shower pour over them both. He needed to see that fire re-stoked in Mulder's eyes, the tenacious, passionate spirit that had become integral to his own. Closer now he could see gold flecks swimming in hazel, could see Mulder looking out at him, reaching for him like a drowning man reaching for any piece of flotsam that might save him.
Alex kept his eyes open as his lips met Mulder's, wanting to feel every moment, every sensation, yet wanting more than that to see life again in the dispirited soul before him. After a moment, he felt Mulder respond, felt their bodies begin to merge even as they began to fall once more into that dizzying sexual spiral, this time on an inevitable course of collision.
Feeling Mulder's mouth on his, Alex shuddered, helplessly pressing himself closer for deeper contact. This was the Mulder he had wanted, he realised, watching Mulder watch him through the running water of the shower. This beautiful, damaged man who hated him with a passion yet wanted him, despite all Alex was and had been. At this moment in time Mulder needed him and the power of it struck Alex like a blow.
He grabbed the back of Mulder's neck, hungrily accepting the tongue that trailed over his own, grinding his rock hard erection up against Mulder's. *This is what you do to me,* he thought, silently, as Mulder's hands came up around his back, sliding down water-slick muscles. Every fucking time.
Pressing Mulder up against the tiles, Alex switched off the shower and slowly pulled back, surveying with some satisfaction Mulder's slick, heaving chest, the gilded eyelashes lowered in arousal, the sensual mouth parted in silent entreaty.
Alex let his fingers touch that mouth, feather-light on the bruised, bitten lower lip, then stroke downwards, over the taut tendons in Mulder's throat, feeling the butterfly pulse as Mulder arched slightly, eyes never wavering from Alex's. It was a deliberate taunt, a desperate invitation, and the only thing Alex would at this moment deny him. Alex kept his touch soft as he slid further down to Mulder's nipples, skimming over them, tweaking the sensitised flesh, before tracing downwards to the flexing muscles of the Agent's abdomen. Mulder erection quivered enticingly there, and Alex reached between their bodies to take hold of it, running his hand up and down the smooth, tense shaft.
Mulder's moan was like sweet music and Alex stroked gently, fascinated by the look of utter pleasure, utter anguish that fought for dominance on the other's face.
"Let go, Mulder" he coaxed, hand urging Mulder on. "Just let it go."
"I can't," Mulder whispered back, through harsh breathing, strained gasps of pleasure laced with despair.
It wasn't enough, Alex realised, for either of them. He needed to taste Mulder, badly, and he felt the other's hot gaze on him as he sank to his knees, putting his hand out to steady himself. He'd given head numerous times, as a job requirement, for money, even as a survival tactic, yet none of those faceless men had been Fox Mulder, had inspired him to willingly want to give pleasure, to taste and suck and swallow everything they had to give.
With steam still rising from the swirling water around his knees, Alex dipped his wet head and lapped delicately at Mulder's erection, relishing once again the taste of the other man, the scent that was so uniquely, undefinably Mulder.
"Alex." The name escaped Mulder's lips in a breathy sigh, and Alex felt a thrill chase down his spine. Then Mulder's eyes met his, desperation warring with arousal, and filled with so much sadness it made Alex want to kill something. Or even better, someone. "Make me forget," Mulder said, then, and leaned his head back against the tiles, closing his eyes in silent surrender.
It was that more than anything that set Alex's own cock to throbbing, lurching upwards at the unasked for gift, desperate to be buried within the man above, just once, just to know what it would be like. And Alex knew Mulder wouldn't resist, would give him no trouble should he choose to take advantage of the state of mind that was consuming the FBI Agent.
And before that night in the Dutchman's house, Alex would have had no qualms, no trouble from his conscience, would have shoved Mulder up against the tiles in a second and fucked him hard and fast. Or changed their positions so he could feel those magnificent lips on his cock, sliding up and down as he compared the reality to his manifold fantasies. But now...
Looking at Mulder's body, Mulder's closed eyes, a posture that spoke of an inexorable, deadening defeat, Alex recalled the night before and the joy in Mulder's face as he took his climax within Alex's body. And he knew, with utter certainty, he wanted that again.
He could give Mulder that pleasure, take away the other's pain, make him forget. Gently running his hand up and down Mulder's thigh, Alex carefully, reverently sucked on the erection before him, watching Mulder's face contort, watching his fists clench helplessly. Spurred on, Alex slid his hand between Mulder's legs, caressing his balls, rolling them in their soft sacs while continuing his gently suckling.
Mulder's head moved from side to side, in negation, in pleasure and Alex could feel him trembling. And when Alex slid his fingers under Mulder's perineum, skilfully pressing upwards, Mulder shuddered, biting his lower lip, though he couldn't quite stifle his gasp of enjoyment.
Alex pulled away from his soft, oral explorations, long enough so that Mulder opened his eyes and looked down through lowered lashes. Their eyes met, green meshing with a rich, hazel gold, and once again Alex was consumed by his fierce desire for this man, a man he could have killed so many times yet had always held off. Why?
*Because you love him, you stupid fuck,* came the nasty voice at the back of his mind. And he hates me, Alex answered it back. Love and hate. Two sides of the same coin...just like Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek.
Alex blinked water from his eyes and slowly tilted his head back, Mulder's leaking, thrumming erection an inch from his mouth. "Will you come for me, Mulder?" he asked, huskily.
Mulder parted his lips as if to reply, but Alex gave him no chance to speak. He bent once more to his task, giving as skilful a blowjob as he knew how, daring his shaking fingers to slide under and upwards to Mulder's ass, teasing, pressing against the muscle. His own groin was sweetly aching now, and he knew it wouldn't be long before that turned to pain.
Mere moments later, Alex's skills had Mulder stiffened above him and the Agent threw back his head, arching uncontrollably into the warmth of Alex's mouth. Alex could feel him straining, could feel the tension screaming through his sleek body and knew he was close. Applying a little more pressure, Alex sucked in Mulder's whole length, closing his eyes as his wet fingers thrust up into the too hot depths of Mulder's body, seeking with his touch what his cock longed to plunder.
Mulder jerked again and cried out as Alex sought and found his prostate, and the Consortium spy sucked all the harder, concentrating on the sounds Mulder was making like a virtuoso listening for the peaking note. He thrust his fingers as deep as they would go, feeling muscles clench almost painfully around the digits as Mulder reached the pinnacle of his orgasm. And suddenly, Alex was rewarded with a hot gush of fluid, Mulder's semen shooting to the back of his throat, and the taste of it drove Alex crazy. Mulder cried out above him, and Alex felt his own body spasm in recognition.
Withdrawing his fingers took every ounce of Alex's self-control, yet his cock was stubbornly demanding attention. His shaking fingers found and stroked his erection even as he continued to take Mulder deep into his mouth, drinking in the final, weaker spurts of fluid. It didn't take much for Alex to bring himself over the edge and his hips jerked forward as he spilled his own seed onto the tiled floor in a brief but intense orgasm.
Snorting through his nose, Alex managed to draw air into his depleted lungs, then eventually withdrew, reluctantly though, for Mulder's taste, like the man, was addictive. He swiped back the wet hair from his face and rocked back on his heels, looking up to see Mulder staring dazedly at a point on the far wall, his features flushed, his breathing still erratic. But the desolate look was gone, the desperate tension replaced by a temporary post-coital calm. Alex slowly rose to his feet, then stepped back to see that Mulder was once again watching him with that vulnerable, hawk-like gaze.
"Here." Alex tossed him a towel, avoiding those suddenly too aware eyes, and stepped out of the shower to dry himself.
Back in the Dutchman's house when he'd had the choice of having Mulder, Alex had thought it would change nothing if he were to participate in a little mutual pleasure. Now he knew he'd been a fool to partake of the forbidden fruit that was Fox Mulder. Alex was hooked now and would always want more of something he knew Mulder would never be able to give to him.
Yet when they re-entered the other room, Alex found himself a step behind Mulder, as if unwilling to let the other man out of his sight, out of his possessive grasp. There would be others, Alex knew, other men all too willing to give a beautiful man like Mulder what he was only now beginning to realise he craved. And if they tried, Alex would be forced to show them exactly who and what that part of Mulder belonged to now.
When Mulder slid into bed, curled foetal-like into a ball, shivering once more, Alex found himself slipping in behind, cradling the Agent as best he could with his one arm, pressing his chest against Mulder's back to keep him warm. Mulder kept his head tightly buried in the pillow, but didn't protest, didn't resist, remaining silent as Alex held him gently, unmoving.
"I don't want to sleep." The confession that came minutes later sounded all the more heartbreaking for the fearful note in Mulder's voice.
Alex's rested his head just behind Mulder's, trying hard not to give in to the temptation to bury his face in the damp, soft hair, to breathe in the moist scent. "You will," he promised, softly.
"One of us should stay awake," Mulder said, abruptly, making a move to rise.
Alex squeezed him back down, throwing a leg over Mulder's chilled one to keep him still. "I'll stay awake."
Mulder paused in the struggle, half turned his head to Alex. "I don't trust you."
"I know. Just sleep Mulder. Get some rest."
"What if he...?" the whisper trailed off into silence. Then, "Did you kill him?"
"Does it matter?" Alex countered, quietly. Then tightened his arm, moving his lips over the delicate curl of Mulder's ear. "No one's going to take you again, Mulder. I give you my word." And that was true. He would kill anyone that tried and there were few more dangerous creatures in the world than Alex Krycek when roused.
He heard Mulder's soft snort. "Your word doesn't exactly mean much, Krycek."
"Tonight, it does."
Mulder opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, burying himself deeper into the pillow. Alex listened in the darkness, frozen for long minutes, waiting for Mulder's breathing to even out, for the body in his arms to become warm and lax, before daring to shift to a more comfortable position. His maimed arm was fairly screaming for relief from the prosthetic, but Alex didn't want to take it off and risk waking Mulder, knowing the other's man bouts of insomnia, knowing he needed the rest.
Instead, Alex raised himself quietly to stare at Mulder's sleeping features for the longest time, finding his own peace there. It would be so easy, he knew, just to take Mulder and run. Mulder would go with him for Alex wouldn't give him much of a choice and considering the other man's reaction to heading North, he somehow doubted Mulder would put up much of a fight. Alex had enough stashed funds to see them to some safe little hideaway where they could hole up, away from Spender and his cronies, away from Scully and that bastard Skinner. Away from the whole fucking mess both their lives had become.
It was a tempting notion, one that Alex was forced to struggle against.
Mulder was a man driven and tormented by the Furies, yet to find any kind of peace in the world. And while Alex could protect him, would do so with every devious skill he had learned under the Consortium's tutelage, Mulder wouldn't want to be kept safe. He would stride out with blind faith into the unknown, forever searching for his precious Truth, forever searching for his lost sister.
No one, not Brueller, not Alex Krycek, not even Dana Scully could still the restless energy that was Fox Mulder. Holding onto Mulder, Alex felt the other man unconsciously snuggle backwards into the warmth of his chest and he tightened his grip, fiercely protective. Alex knew he couldn't give Mulder what he wanted, what he needed. But maybe there was a way to get it.
Lying still in the darkness, Alex stared over Mulder's shoulder, thinking. Evidence, something Mulder could hold up to a world that had been so quick to ridicule, something that could render the Consortium impotent and powerless. But he'd have to do it alone. And that meant leaving Mulder, for a while at least. But he wasn't the only person who wanted Mulder kept safe.
Rolling over, silently cursing the creak of the cheap, worn bed, Alex stared at the telephone. One call and Mulder would be whipped from the safety of Alex's sphere of protection and into another's. One call and Mulder would be taken away from him, maybe forever.
But he'll be safe, Alex told the selfish, aching part of himself. And that's all that matters.
He set his head down onto the pillow and closed his eyes, weary from lack of sleep, yet remaining alert and aware. He had promised Mulder he would stay awake, given him his word, a word that no longer meant anything. But for one night, it would mean everything.

Mulder jerked awake, every muscle, every tendon tensing as the pounding noise came again. Rolling over, desperately trying to work the sleep from his eyes, he flung out a hand, expecting to find a warm body, but found only cool, empty sheets.
*He left me,* he realised, with an abrupt, abandoned hurt. The bastard gave me his word and he still left me.
The knocking came again, an insistent pounding that refused to go away. Cursing, Mulder glanced towards the nightstand, blinking dazedly at the clock. 10.03. He'd slept through the entire night, slept through Krycek's departure. And the son of a bitch had let him, had left him alone and vulnerable, with not even a weapon with which to defend himself if they were to come for him.
A small voice at the back of his mind offered up another reason, that Krycek had purposefully left him unarmed in case he chose to use a weapon on himself. But Mulder shied away from that thought. The amoral creature that was Alex Krycek was concerned for no one except himself and his own survival. And Mulder had been a fool to trust him.
Never again, he promised himself, even as he wearily dragged himself to his feet, wrapping the sheet haphazardly about his waist for modesty if little else. If it was them, then there'd be little point in running, half-naked as he was.
He crossed to the door, hand trembling as he jerked it open and was greeted with a sight more terrible, more terrifying than he had ever expected. He felt a lurch of vertigo and wondered faintly if he was about to pass out.
Scully must have thought so too as she reached forward, grabbing his arm, wide, blue eyes taking in his flinch, assessing his condition in a matter of seconds. She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever emotion was showing on his face silenced her.
At her back, Skinner was more assertive, crowding the doorway, yet his voice was gentle when he spoke. "Agent Mulder. I trust you have a good explanation for this."
Mulder almost laughed, would have if he hadn't known it would come out as hysteria. How did you explain to someone, your boss, your partner, that you'd been wiped clean of memories, given to another man, raped, had sex with Alex Krycek, rescued by said Consortium Agent and abandoned at an out of the way motel in the pouring rain.
Thinking of Krycek, Mulder fought the impulse to drag the sheet higher, to hide the mark on his collarbone. He felt branded and shamed under Scully's concerned gaze, who broke from her momentary paralysis to herd him back into the room.
Slumping down on the bed, he watched as Skinner followed and closed the door, then looked warily at Scully as she came to crouch down before him, taking his hands between her own. He felt the laughter bubble up again at that, recalling the disjointed memories of her after the wipe, Scully as his mistress, his dominatrix. But he wasn't so sure she'd share the joke and Skinner's sombre gaze quickly dampened his inappropriate humour.
"Mulder?" Scully queried, softly, reaching out a hand to touch his forehead, an age-old gesture he recognised as employed by mothers and doctors alike.
Mulder took a breath, then forced himself to look up into her worried gaze. "Yeah, Scully," he said at last. "It's me."

Sitting behind the wheel of the stolen car, Alex observed Skinner emerge from the motel room and open the back door of the Ford. His fingers tensed on the steering wheel as Mulder followed, Scully close at heel, her hand placed in an unconsciously possessive manner in the small of her partner's back. To Alex, Mulder looked more together, as if the presence of the AD and Scully had somehow forced him to marshal his strengths. He was wearing a T-shirt and an unzipped sweater, jogging pants and sneakers, clothes Alex had been too numb to request for him over the phone.
As Alex watched, Mulder turned his face upwards towards a sudden burst of light from between the clouds and the spy's breath caught in his throat. Fuck, Mulder was gorgeous. Even damaged goods that he was, he was beautiful. As Alex looked on, Mulder ran a hand through his hair, then stooped to slide into the car, Skinner holding the door open like he was some fucking invalid. Scully moved round to the other side, hopping in as Skinner climbed into the front.
More than anything, Alex wanted to go to Mulder and explain that he hadn't abandoned him, but with Skinner and Scully there, it would be suicide. The moment was quickly lost when Skinner swung the car in a tight arc and pulled out of the parking lot.
Alex caught a glimpse of Mulder's profile, head resting against the window, before vanishing from sight. He continued to watch the car drive away until it was swallowed by the trees and only then, heart aching, did he allow his head to drop to the steering wheel in silent grief.
END OF CHAPTER NINE

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