here and now
by Pares
A companion piece to Te's Here and Then Mulder decided he'd live to regret stopping at the local Jack-in-the-Box for "dinner". He swallowed a bubbling belch, coughed and decided he *did* regret the stop. And would probably live.
Live long enough to teach pretty little Alex Krycek a lesson. He finished the flat watered Coke at the bottom of his melting wax cup and knocked on his partner's adjoining door.
"Yeah?"
Where was the ingratiating little puppy of a few mere days ago?
"I wanted to ask you something."
Krycek held the door wide.
Once across the threshold, Mulder slammed the door shut and leaned toward Krycek, in his face so fast the man hardly had time to fall back. Mulder had maybe an inch on him, but he used it to his advantage.
"So, you like to get your knees dirty Krycek? Or was it standing room only in the stalls with Michael?"
"I don't see how it's any of your business, Mulder," Krycek replied smoothly.
"What if I make it my business. You bragged about taking a kid small than you. Think you can take a man? Huh, tough guy?"
Krycek's eyes widened. Mulder could feel a sneer twist his lips.
"Don't go all doe eyed on me, Mormon Boy. The innocent act was dead long before you decided to 'get my attention'."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Krycek said clearly. Just breathless enough to sound shocked.
That was when Mulder knotted his fingers in Krycek's perma-press buttondown and shoved him until his back slammed against the wall. The corner of the Weeping Clown picture frame dug into his ribs.
He dragged the other man up until Krycek was scrabbling, the air knocked out of his lungs, trying to balance on his tip toes.
"You are a sick little fuck, Krycek. Do you understand that? I may have to work with you, but I don't have to like it. I don't doubt that you got off in whatever power you had over that kid, but don't think for a second that those little mind games or make-nice overtures are going to work with *me*."
Mulder knew he was panting, almost shaking. He almost couldn't *see* Krycek; his heart was hammering in his chest, and he knew that this too was Krycek's fault. As was the insistent pounding in his cock as it filled with blood.
It made everything he'd just said a lie.
That was when he slammed him again, bodily, Krycek's head bouncing off the seafoam paint, spidered with water damage.
"*Listen* to me, Alex. I want you to *listen*."
This earned a dull nod from the man under his hands.
"Don't mention that kid again. Don't even think about him while your within arm's reach of me, if you know what's good for you, god dammit."
He'd let Krycek go; the younger man slumped weakly against the wall, ignoring the picture frame, stunned and breathless.
Mulder didn't let himself think about the fact that he was unbuckling his belt.
"You make me fucking sick, Krycek. You don't just use somebody. Somebody like that, someone who thought they could trust you. Do you understand me? Do I have to *make* you understand?"
A shake of the head; his eyes had gone wide and green again, and his lips were drawn up, revealing a curve of white, even, teeth.
Glancing down, Mulder felt himself pale. His zipper was down, his pants hanging open like an unstarched shirt collar.
He'd been... he'd wanted... he closed his eyes against the vision of
//took me deep without another word and then dropped his hands to his sides. Permission like that doesn't come *every* day, I grabbed his head and fucked his mouth.//
He felt his Jack-in-the -Box fight to reacquaint itself with his mouth. Swallowing, Mulder zipped himself up, buckled his belt. He met Krycek's eyes, spat at his feet.
"If I catch you so much as looking at *anybody* who might have some kind of basic decency, with anything other than respect in your eyes, you'll be swallowing your own teeth, you little fuck. "
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You're so easy to lie to. It's amazing you ever get anything accomplished at all."
Mulder stiffened, focused the glare on Krycek's taunting eyes.
"I made Michael up out of wholecloth you dumbfuck. Wanted to see if you were... you know. What they said."
"What who said," he asked sharply.
"A fag. Looks to me like you gave yourself away."
He'd backhanded the younger man without thinking about it. He wrapped one hand around Krycek's throat.
"*Who* told you that?"
His voice was clogged and small; Mulder had to lean in to hear Krycek's voice rasp past Mulder's closing fingers.
"This guy at the academy. Goren. Dan Goren."
Suddenly tired, Mulder released the other man.
"Dan Goren is the biggest fuckhead and homophobe in five states, you stupid shit." Tucking his shirt in, Mulder was disgusted; with himself, with Krycek, with bastards who "used" other people in the backs of cars...
"I may be a fag, Krycek. But what does that make you?"
He crossed the room, slamming the door behind him.
END
