From: syzygyshan@warpmail.net
Date: Sat, 07 Aug 2004 03:14:08 -0400
Subject: [atxc-pi] NEW: Bryce -NC-17- (0/1)
Source: atxc

Title: Bryce 
Author: Shannon Kizzia 
Feedback Email: syzygyshan@warpmail.net 
Author's Website: http://www.hegalplace.com/shannon 
Archive at Gossamer: Yes to Gossamer 
Status: NEW - Standalone 
Size: 32k 
Category: Angst, PWP 
Pairings: Mulder/Krycek 
Rating: NC-17 
Gossamer Category: Story ~ Sex (PWP), Angst ~ Slash 
Summary: Krycek pokes his nose where it doesn't belong and gets a shock. 

Part 1
Please see part 0 (template) for story information.

Title:  Bryce 

Author:  Shannon Kizzia

This story is dedicated to my wonderful friends and family at 
MSKipperVille for all the loving support over the years!

And with this offering, I hereby christen the NEW MKLove list!  A 
place to celebrate the special bond between a Fox and his Rat.

Please check it out at:  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MKLove/

My website:  http://www.hegalplace.com/shannon/

Pairing:  M/K

Rating:  NC-17

Summary:  Krycek pokes his nose where it doesn't belong and gets a 
shock.

Spoilers:  none

Disclaimer:  Chris Carter made them up, but David Duchovny and Nick 
Lea made them come alive.

Archive:  Sure, just let me know where, please!

Date of First Posting:  August 7, 2004

Notes:  At the end.

.........

Alex Krycek sat in front of the computer screen, stunned.  His fingers 
slid off the mouse, a feeling of utter dejection suffusing his body.

His naked body.

Suddenly, he felt self-conscious.  Not to mention foolish, humiliated, 
and...hurt.

No.  Not hurt.  Just angry.  Very, very angry.

He closed the email with a sharp left click.  He leaned back in the 
chair and firmed his jaw.  His breathing got faster.  His nostrils 
flared.  He stood up.  He sat back down.  He brought up Mulder's sent 
email again.

Maybe he had misread.  He'd try again.

Hey Scully.  I'm sorry I skipped out on you Thursday night.  I had to 
wax.  No, actually I kind of got tied up at that interview.  And no, 
it wasn't the son of Flukeman.  It was a kid in a rubber suit and his 
mother grounded him for staying out past one AM to terrorize his best 
friend, Kyle, outside the boy's bedroom window.

So yeah, I suck.

Anyway.  That's not really why I'm emailing you.  I'd just call but I 
think I need not to be looking at you when I say this.  It's about 
Bryce.  I think I'm falling in love with him.  Or really what I mean 
to say is, I know that I have. Fallen, that is.  I'm already there is 
the point.  And I know it's crazy.  You don't have to tell me.  It's 
just been eating me up inside and I had to tell someone.  I know I can 
trust you.  Even if you give me shit about it, I know it's because you 
adore me.  Right?  You do adore me, right?

Anyway.  That's the skinny.  I love him.  I love him a lot.  I'm 
fucked up, Scully.  He fucks me up.  What the hell am I going to do?

Well.  I guess I'll see you bright and early Monday morning for my 
chastisement.

Your friendly neighborhood love-lorn lunatic,

Mulder

Krycek closed his eyes and sighed.  There was no misreading that.  
Mulder was in love.  With some fuckface named Bryce of all people.  
What did Mulder do, court a fraternity?

Krycek stood up again, raking his hand through his hair.  He looked 
down at the disks he'd brought with him.  Information on the 
abductions in Wyoming.  He wasn't so sure he wanted to go through with 
the original plan to present them to Mulder between the cheeks of his 
ass.

Which brought his attention back to the state of his undress.

It wasn't generally how he passed off intel to a buyer.  In fact, it 
was a courtesy only extended to Mulder.  It had just kind of worked 
itself out that way.  It was a seemingly natural progression, Krycek 
had thought.  That steady progression from getting his face rearranged 
by Mulder's fists, to getting his guts rearranged by Mulder's huge 
cock.  It was nothing if not organic.

And the little variations that happened along the way after that first 
time when Mulder seemed to find himself with his dick working its way 
up Krycek's butt quite by accident...the addition of things like lube 
so Krycek would bleed less, then the quick finger-fuck so Krycek would 
quit bleeding all together, then the slow finger-fuck that wasn't 
about anybody not bleeding at all, to finally the 
two-hour-nipple-licking-ball-sucking-rolling-around-on-the-bed-finger-fucking-fo 
r-days routine they'd struck up nowadays...it all seemed perfectly 
natural, too, until Krycek had to wonder how they'd gone from Mulder 
nearly killing him before he could hand over the data, to Mulder 
seeing how many times Krycek could come in one night and nearly 
forgetting to ask for the intel at all.

Mulder even let Krycek fuck *him* now from time to time.  If the intel 
was really hot.

And he liked to shower afterwards with Krycek.  And then, if they 
weren't sleepy, catch a game on TV with a beer.  And if they were 
sleepy, if he deemed Krycek too sleepy to drive, which Mulder seemed 
to think he often was, even though Krycek always felt perfectly fit 
for operation of a vehicle, then they would bed down together.  And 
sometimes they'd wake up and fuck again.  And sometimes they'd just 
lie there, bodies flush against one another because for some reason 
Mulder's apartment was as cold as a fucking meat locker.

Sometimes Mulder wanted him to stay for several days.  Because there 
was a lot of information and Mulder always liked Krycek to stick 
around until he'd gone over it all to make sure it was legit.  Mulder 
didn't trust Krycek, after all.  And when there were massive amounts 
of intel, he'd make Krycek hang around while Mulder sniffed it out for 
obfuscation, inveigling, and downright lies.

And, as he waited for the intel to check out, he'd take Krycek to bed 
for lack of anything better to do.  Sometimes they'd do it twelve 
times in a three night weekend.  (Krycek had taken to showing up 
Friday evening.)  Mulder always sent the intel off to his Gunmen 
friends and they could be quite lackadaisical in their initiative to 
get to Mulder's requests.  It always seemed to irk Mulder to no end, 
and he'd curse his friends even as he'd shove Krycek down on the bed 
for another go.

And now this.

Krycek swallowed and blinked rapidly.  Staring at the computer screen 
had hurt his eyes, and they stung now.  He wiped at the tears that 
kept filling his eyes, nearly dropping over the ledge of his lashes.

He heard footsteps in the hall and inhaled sharply.  He grabbed for 
his jeans and yanked them up his legs.  He had them almost all the way 
zipped (which isn't easy to accomplish without bodily harm when you 
aren't wearing any underwear) when he realized the email was still up 
and there was a key scrabbling in the lock.  He left off the jeans and 
hurriedly minimized the window, then realized the screen would have 
gone to the screen saver or to black while Mulder had been at work and 
punched the power button on the monitor just as the door flew open and 
Mulder burst through.

Krycek turned, still shirtless, jeans hanging off his hips rather 
luridly, exposing a good amount of pubic hair.  Oh well.  It wasn't as 
if that hadn't been his plan.  He supposed he could still go through 
with it.  What was it, after all, but his payment for services 
rendered?  Although, it always felt like he was the one paying up.  
Like it was something he owed Mulder even above and beyond the intel.  
And so it made even more sense to keep going through with it.  It 
wasn't as if there was suddenly a problem now.  It was Mulder who'd 
gone and fallen in love with some unfortunate bastard.  If Mulder 
still wanted a little on the side with Krycek, who was Krycek to turn 
him down? Krycek didn't have any moral imperative to break it off.  
If Mulder wanted to have his cake and eat it, too, so be it.  No skin 
off Krycek's nose.  A fuck was a fuck.

He had to wipe at his eyes when Mulder's back was turned, hanging his 
suit jacket up on his coat tree.

"Krycek," Mulder whispered as he turned back around and saw him 
standing in front of his computer chair.  The other man's eyes 
immediately dropped, unabashedly taking in Krycek's appearance, 
lingering over all the bare skin, almost getting stuck completely in 
the dark thatch of hair sprouting in the open V the fly of his old 
501s made before climbing back up over belly, chest, and neck to find 
his eyes.

Mulder swallowed, and Krycek noticed the beginnings of a thickening 
erection inside his designer slacks as he walked forward slowly.  He 
threw his keys onto the table and slid his tie over his head, tossing 
that aside as well.  He paused in the doorway to the living room, and 
suddenly his gaze dropped to the floor.

Something was wrong.  Krycek frowned at the other man's bowed head.  
He was stalling.  And with Krycek half-naked none-the-less.  For all 
intents and purposes, Krycek should have his jeans around his ankles 
right now, being bent over the nearest piece of furniture.

It was Bryce.  Krycek knew it.  Already, Mulder had changed.  He was 
different. Things weren't going to stay the same between them.  Maybe 
Mulder would even decline to fuck him at all.  Krycek cleared his 
throat, and Mulder's eyes rose to meet his gaze.

"I have information on the Seward Experiment and the returned 
abductees in Wyoming," Krycek told him, flashing the disks at Mulder 
and waiting for his reaction.

Mulder stepped into the room.  He walked over to Krycek whose breath 
became shallow and nervous.  He could smell Mulder:  number two pencil 
shavings and seed-salt.  Newsprint and sweet sweat.  That honeyed 
sweat he dripped when he got horny and hot.

"How much info, Krycek?" Mulder asked, stepping in closer.

Krycek worked not to lose his breath all together.  "Wiped their hard 
drive," Krycek murmured.  "Everything they got."

Mulder turned a crooked smile Krycek's way, and Krycek's skin itched 
with heat. His own cock stirred and pushed at the fly of his jeans, 
nuzzling the zipper open an inch more as it strove for release, 
sniffing out the cause for its arousal and yearning toward the source, 
hungry.

"Hand it over," Mulder murmured back, reaching out a hand.  The 
fingertips almost grazed the heavy hang of Krycek's balls, and the 
palm of Mulder's hand hovered so close to grabbing Krycek's thick 
penis and engorged testicles that Krycek could feel it if he devoted 
enough attention to the sight of it there, seeming to gesture between 
his legs.

He produced the set of zip disks, three in all, rubberbanded together, 
holding them out to Mulder with a shaking hand.

Mulder looked at them and then back up at Krycek.  It seemed as if he 
had something to say.  Maybe, "Thanks for the shit, now get out, I've 
got a hot date with someone infinitely better than you, you 
scum-sucking ratfink."  At least, that's how it looked to Krycek.  
But Mulder said nothing, taking the offered disks and running his 
thumb over them, as if able to glean their secrets through some form 
of osmosis.

Krycek lowered his arm and stuck his hand in his pocket.  Which had 
seemed like a good idea at the time but that, in actuality, just made 
it easier for him to stroke his own cock.  He was both grateful and 
disgusted with himself that he could still be so turned on.  He hadn't 
thought it would be possible.  His chest hurt too much.

Mulder noticed the hand buried defiantly in his pocket.  Krycek 
watched his eyes take it in and then blink over to the cock that was 
now starting to poke out of the slowly unzipping fly, already seeping 
and slick.  The head swelled as it cleared the fly, and Krycek felt 
his slit drool even more in anticipation.

He was about to stuff his prick back into his pants and take his 
leave, when Mulder reached out and hooked a finger in a one of his 
beltloops.  The gesture seemed oddly shy considering their recent 
routine.  After all, sometimes it was just, "Get your mouth on this," 
or "I'm out of condoms, you got one?" if there were words at all.  
Often it was just heavy panting breaths and monosyllabic commands from 
Mulder as they stripped off their clothes and Mulder got them into 
position.

Mulder tugged on the beltloop, eyes downcast.  What was this?  A 
delicate brush-off?  Mulder trying to be *polite* about this??  
Krycek was about to pull away when Mulder broke the quiet.

"You got anything else?"

Krycek frowned.  Then Mulder's hand slipped around Krycek's cock and 
gave a measured squeeze.  Krycek stifled a gasp, mouth opening on the 
pleasure.  His cock-hole oozed more pre-cum, and he felt his flesh 
harden, thicken, throb in Mulder's hand.

Bryce.  He's in love with a man named Bryce, Krycek's brain wailed.  
He swallowed and closed his eyes on the feel of Mulder's fist now 
pumping his cock slowly, working it to full erection expertly, moving 
the skin over the pulsing muscle, milking the head to spill more hot 
juice.

Then Mulder's thumb started to play in it, swiping over the head, 
pushing up on the underside, thumbing his wet cock as he pulled on the 
shaft, straining it up toward Krycek's belly.

Krycek's hand still had not left his pocket.

"You playin' hard to get, Krycek?" Mulder asked.  "It's not a good 
look on you," he added.  Then he slapped Krycek's cock for punishment.  
Krycek grunted his appreciation.  And Mulder took it into his warm 
hand once more, continuing to work him into an erection so big and 
hard Krycek could have used it as some kind of bludgeon.  Even as his 
eyes welled with unwanted tears.

Was hard to get a good look on Bryce?

Even as he thought it, he withdrew his hand from his pocket and 
reached for Mulder with it, slipping the other man's zipper down and 
pulling the long, hard cock free through the slit.  He fell to his 
knees, groaning, and sacrificed Mulder's touch on his own cock to take 
Mulder's hot flesh in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the 
weeping head.

He loved Mulder's taste.  He loved having his face buried in the other 
man's crotch.  He grunted around the throbbing shaft, eating it down 
his throat.  He pulled off long enough to work Mulder's belt open, 
then pull his pants and underwear down, hearing the pile of clothing 
fall with a clink of the belt buckle on the floor.

Then he was working the cock down his throat once more as Mulder 
groaned.  His hand was immediately around Mulder's balls, pulling on 
them and then trying to stuff them inside his already stretched lips 
along with the massive cock, changing the angle of his head, opening 
his throat farther.  They wouldn't fit, and Krycek sucked off Mulder's 
cock to pump it in his hand while he licked at his balls frantically 
until they were dripping with his drool.

"Krycek," Mulder whispered, and Krycek felt a surge of pride.  His 
name.  His goddamned name.  And even as the relief swelled his chest, 
he felt the tears tightening his throat, and he knew he wasn't going 
to be able to fit Mulder's bobbing shaft in there past the lump.  He 
tried to will it down.  He took the head between his lips and suckled 
hard, making Mulder moan loudly.  He lapped around the leaking tip and 
then worked his face over the cock, swallowing the head eagerly.  
Mulder's hand came down on top of Krycek's head and Krycek growled, 
bobbing hard to force the blunt mushroom head past his seizing throat.

But he gagged and had to withdraw.  He licked his lips and tried 
again.  His tongue followed the thick blue vein down Mulder's prick.  
He was about to bury his nose in the fragrant curls framing the base 
of Mulder's cock when he gagged again.

This time he felt Mulder's fingers wrap in his hair and pull up, hard.

"Relax," Mulder demanded.  "Jesus."  The eyes that looked down at him 
were thunder-dark.  Mulder licked his lips, and Krycek felt Mulder's 
cock kiss his chin, leaving a smear of honey.  "C'mon," Mulder said, 
dragging him up by the arm.  He shed his clothes quickly, leaving them 
on the living room floor as he led Krycek into his bedroom.

"Lie back," he ordered, pushing until Krycek fell, sitting on the edge 
of the bed and then lying back on the sheets, legs dangling over the 
side.

Mulder pulled hard on his jeans and they slid down his thighs and 
calves.  The other man tore them off his feet.  And then Mulder was on 
his knees, pushing Krycek's wide apart, and sucking Krycek's half-soft 
dick into his mouth.  He nursed it, pulling the reawakening erection 
deeper and deeper into his mouth.

But when Krycek was fully hard, Mulder sucked loudly off of him, 
dragging his bottom lip up the underside of the shaft in a deliberate 
caress.  Krycek moaned.

Then Mulder proceeded to lick him.  Krycek's balls got tongued, his 
shaft bathed in warm, wet drool, the underside of the cockhead 
battered with the warm cup of Mulder's lapping tongue, and his slit 
opened up almost painfully with the squirming, persistent tip.  
Everything but a typical blow-job.  Everything but the slow, hot glide 
of Mulder's mouth and throat taking him.

And it was fucking exquisite.  Mulder had him on the edge of coming 
for easily half an hour.  He made Krycek whine and thrash and grab for 
his head.  He was crying, and it had nothing to do with anyone named 
Bryce.

*It's about Bryce.  I think I'm falling in love with him.*

Krycek winced and pushed Mulder's head off his cock..  He sat up and 
rested his head in his hand, forcing Mulder to back up.  He could feel 
Mulder frowning at him, still on his knees on the floor.

"What the hell's wrong, Krycek?" Mulder asked.

He didn't answer, and Mulder stood, hard dick pointing at Krycek's 
face accusatorially.  His hands went on his hips.  Krycek couldn't 
help but peek a look.  His long, lean body was slick with sweat, his 
long cock red and inviting, begging for Krycek's mouth or ass around 
it, his stance so unselfconscious as to be a thing of abject beauty.  
Nothing but achingly gorgeous, nude Mulder, angry at him, in lust with 
him...  Just not...

"I'm...not in the mood," Krycek explained lamely, but with enough heat 
to hopefully convince Mulder to back off.

Mulder just made a noise that indicated his utter disbelief, how very 
much he was not buying it.  "So not in the mood I almost made you come 
about four different times," he answered.  Then he stared at Krycek 
until he finally raised his gaze.  Krycek made sure it was hard and as 
cold as he could manage, and he met Mulder's intense golden eyes with 
stubborn defiance.

"Get dressed, then," Mulder spat and walked out of the room.

It hurt.  It wanted to cave Krycek's heart in with how much.  His cock 
deflated without Mulder in the room to encourage its lust.  He ran his 
hand through his hair and heard the bathroom sink come on.  He stood 
up, beginning to pace. His whole body wanted to stay.  He didn't want 
to leave.  Hell, Mulder was into it.  He obviously had no problem 
seeing them both, screwing Krycek every chance he got and loving...

Shit.

He heard Mulder meandering around his living room and took a deep 
breath.  He had to go out there and get dressed.  He'd blown it.  He 
could have just had sex with him, could have had what he'd always had 
and been grateful.  But he'd fucking blown his wad.  If not to Mulder, 
to himself.  He couldn't do it.  And it was becoming horribly apparent 
as to why.

He was turning to the doorway to leave when Mulder's still-naked body 
filled it.  He gasped and looked up.

"Been reading some email lately?" Mulder asked.

Krycek gasped again and backed up a step.  Fuck!  He'd turned on the 
goddamned computer...seen the open mail...  Fuck!

Mulder's eyebrows went up.  Then he pursed his lips and dropped his 
gaze, coming back into the room slowly, stalking Krycek casually as he 
backed away.

"Funny thing," Mulder went on.  His eyes came up to find Krycek's.  
They were lit with an unfamiliar glow, something unreadable to Krycek, 
something that made him deeply uneasy.  "See, I haven't really figured 
out this new email program yet.  You know, the account you were spying 
on?  Krycek?"

Krycek swallowed painfully.  Mulder backed him around the room.

"In fact, that email to Scully that *you read*," he enunciated 
pointedly, "was one of the first I've sent out.  Took probably ten 
minutes for me to just figure out where the damned send button was," 
he said, smirking slightly as his own ineptitude, shaking his head.

Krycek waited for the other shoe to drop.  Waited for the cut to come.

But Mulder just sighed.  "What did you think of that email, Krycek?"

Krycek felt his back hit the wall.  He grunted, eyes wide on Mulder.  
He took great, swallowing breaths, panicked.

"I thought it was rather well composed, really," Mulder went on, one 
hand splaying on the wall over Krycek's head as he cocked his hip and 
leaned in.  "I think she'll laugh at me thinking that kid was a 
flukeman."  He looked down, seeming lost in amused thought.  He bit 
his lip.  Then he stepped in closer, attention fully on Krycek.  
"What did you think, Krycek?  Just generally."

"I..." Krycek began, squinting past the tears.  Mulder was going to 
use it against him.  He was having fun, the bastard.

"*I* thought," Mulder interrupted, "that I was particularly charming 
when I asked if Scully adored me.  didn't you?"  He tilted his head 
and Krycek felt his warm, moist breath on his pulse point.  Right at 
the base of his neck, steaming his skin.  "Of course, it really kind 
of sucks that I haven't learned the spell checker yet," Mulder went 
on.  His hand took Krycek behind the head, hot fingers curling in his 
hair.  "You see, it hasn't had time to learn your name yet, Krycek."  
His fingers embedded in the sweat-damp spikes.  "What did it call you?  
Oh yeah.  Bryce."  He laughed once, low and sweet.  Then his voice 
dropped, becoming serious.  "isn't that funny?"

Krycek frowned at Mulder's plump lips.  *He*...was Bryce?  He Krycek 
actually *was* Bryce?

Mulder was in love with *him*?

He shot ever-widening eyes up to meet Mulder's own calm gaze.  Mulder 
smirked and backed away, his half-hard cock bouncing a little between 
his thighs. "Still not in the mood?" he asked.

Krycek gasped.  And then Mulder reached out his hand.  Krycek 
hesitated just for a moment, the realization still sweeping through 
his mind and body like wildfire catching on his dry bones.  It ate him 
up, consuming doubt and fear and leaving the ache of realization in 
its wake.  His cock became swollen with it, hot and heavy.

Mulder was in love with *him*.

Krycek took his hand.  Mulder jerked him in.  Their bodies struck, 
hard, driving a grunt from Krycek's throat.

"Get in my bed, Krycek," Mulder growled, open, panting mouth so close 
to his own.  Mulder's lips opened his, and, for a brief moment, ate 
his mouth. Mulder's tongue fucked between the slit of Krycek's wet 
lips until Krycek opened them wider and gave Mulder a pliant hole to 
fill.

Just when Krycek was getting dizzy from the assault of mouth and 
tongue, Mulder released him, taking him by the back of the head and 
shoving him roughly toward the bed.

"On your knees.  And bend over," he instructed.

Shaking, Krycek crawled up onto the bed, facing away from Mulder, 
bending at the waist and laying his chest on the bed, baring his ass, 
and then his hole as he spread his knees.  His dick hung down, thick 
and drooling, and his balls felt heavy and vulnerable.

Then Mulder was kneeling behind him on the floor, spreading his 
asscheeks apart, one firm, fat globe in each hand.

Krycek was ready to cry before he felt that hot breath against his 
already sweat-greased asshole.  Then he felt the flat of Mulder's 
tongue bathing him from his aching ball sac to the base of his spine, 
filling the cleft with slick spit.  He made that same lapping pass 
over and over, teasing Krycek with long licks, coating his pucker wet.

Krycek began to tremble.  As much from that impactful phrase repeating 
in his head - "It hasn't learned your name yet, Krycek." - as from the 
liquid friction of Mulder's tongue.  Mulder's fingers gripped the 
flesh of his ass.  Krycek whimpered as the licks became more centered 
on his gripping hole.  He tried to open it, tried to suck at Mulder's 
tongue as it battered the hot, willing slit.

No resistance remained in him.  He had burned to the ground under his 
own fear. But Mulder had saved him, remade him from ash, put him back 
together, more whole than before.

"Please..." Krycek moaned, hand seeking the edge of the mattress and 
clamping down on it hard.  And then Mulder's tongue slipped inside 
him.  Krycek's ass spasmed closed around the tongue, not to push it 
out, but to draw it further in.  He suddenly wanted to draw Mulder 
inside of himself, seal the deal and fuse them into one.

Mulder moaned and moved his face in Krycek's crack, tongue-fucking his 
ass and holding the cheeks apart.  He took turns plunging his tongue 
inside and then lapping over the empty little hole relentlessly until 
Krycek begged, then dropping his wet lips and mouth to Krycek's balls, 
then driving his tongue inside the clenching anal ring once again 
until Krycek moaned with abandon and started pushing his ass back into 
Mulder's face.

He slurped away, and Krycek whined into the bed.  He didn't know if he 
wanted Mulder back or wanted him to stop.  He didn't know if he could 
take any more of that soft, exploring tongue touching him and telling 
him things that were still so new and fresh and pain-red in his heart. 
Still so unbelievable.  That hot, gentle tongue stroking him there and 
claiming all of him, including that small, licked-pink bud, as 
Mulder's own.  Krycek had never felt owned by anyone.  Not while he 
worked for Spender, not while the old Brit held the vaccine over his 
head like he held that dripping cloth.  Not even with the oil crawling 
under his skin.  Not ever.  Not till now.

Mulder stood, then.  "Hold still," he said.  And Krycek heard the 
condom package tearing behind him.  He waited, overwhelmed, and soon, 
he felt Mulder moving back in, a steadying hand on his low back as he 
slid the head of his cock against Krycek's slick hole.

"doesn't change anything," Mulder said then, voice thick.  "I'm gonna 
ride you so hard you'll wish I hated you."

Then he snapped his hips and sank his cockhead into Krycek's body.  
Krycek held his breath and felt Mulder's cock drive into him then, 
thrusting an inch at a time, until it was in him up to the sturdy 
base.

Krycek embraced the pain of it.  It was easier for both of them this 
way. Easier to heal when they made it hurt.  Easier to make love when 
it felt like fucking.

Mulder's hand slid up his back then, taking hold of Krycek's shoulder 
in a painful grip.  Krycek felt Mulder shift, still buried deep inside 
his throbbing asshole.  He pulled back on Krycek's hips, driving a 
grunting whine from him as he was impaled further.  Mulder's free hand 
then reached around his leg and took hold of Krycek's cock firmly.

There was a moment of stillness. Of their connection burning them 
both.  A moment of trembling breaths and the silent agreement of their 
bodies.  Mulder's promising pain and love and release.  Krycek's 
promising heat and surrender and home.

Then Mulder took a breath, and he withdrew slowly.  Krycek felt the 
entire length slipping out of him, inch by inch.  Like he was shitting 
Mulder's cock.  It made him grimace and moan.  His instinct was to 
panic, but he breathed it down, hanging his head and just feeling the 
thick shaft manipulating his insides, letting his rectum close around 
its exodus.

Finally, even the fat head of the cock popped all the way out.  
Krycek whined, feeling empty and raw.  Tears leaked from his eyes, and 
he trembled.  He wanted Mulder to fill him again with something 
bordering on desperation.  He wanted the pain of re-entry.  He wanted 
to feel the depth of Mulder's emotion in the depth of his fuck.

Mulder let him suffer for a moment, leaving his hole bereft.  But his 
hand started to milk Krycek's cock, pulling to the purpled crown, 
squeezing out an obscene glob of pre-cum, letting it dangle like drool 
from the fevered slit. Krycek saw it between his own legs, saw how 
Mulder's hand shook as he squeezed and heard the other man's breathing 
change with lust.  Krycek closed his eyes, panting.

Then Mulder slammed home again inside Krycek's ass, scorching it open 
and making Krycek cry out in distress and ecstasy. He wrenched back on 
Krycek's cock at the same time, and this became the rhythm.  His slow 
glide out, not quite all the way now, along with the hand pulling 
Krycek's cock, then the thrust back inside and the slide of his fist.

Krycek cried out again and again.  Every sensation was acute.  His 
muscles protesting until they became too weak or too abused and he had 
no choice but to release himself to the experience completely, 
becoming something more and less than himself.  A body for Mulder to 
fuck.  A hole for Mulder to use.

A soul for Mulder to tentatively touch, sense the pain there, the 
scars, and then love back to wholeness.

And even on his knees, bent at the waist, taking Mulder's long cock 
into his ass over and over until it felt like it might never end...  
Even now, each of Mulder's hard thrusts felt like a vow.  To name this 
thing they had, this thing they did, as nothing less than love.  Each 
time that cock bore down on him and ripped him in two, each time it 
tore into his flesh, it carried the words Mulder hadn't yet uttered 
aloud.

*Love you, love you, love you, I love you...*

Krycek felt them all, each individual declaration, and he opened to 
it, giving over to it like he'd never done for anyone or anything in 
his life.

Mulder got faster and faster, until he was just bouncing in Krycek's 
now completely relaxed hole and working Krycek's weeping cock so fast 
it burned.

Krycek couldn't take it.  The burn in his rectum, the fire scorching 
his dick.  He felt his balls draw up tight to his cock.  He felt his 
heart seize, and he held his breath, back arching as he came, loud and 
shuddering, shooting load after load of hot semen onto Mulder's bed.

Mulder groaned behind him, his one hand gripping Krycek's shoulder, 
the other thumbing out the last of Krycek's cum from his naked cock.

Then he pulled out, leaving Krycek's asshole feeling stretched and 
exposed.

"On your back," Mulder gasped.

Krycek rolled over, shaking with the dual intensities of exertion and 
emotion.  He lay on his back, trying to avoid the puddle of ejaculate 
he'd just shot.

Mulder climbed up between his legs, sheathed cock hard and red like a 
fire-poker.  Mulder hooked Krycek's legs over his shoulders, staring 
into Krycek's eyes.  After so long without that contact, Krycek 
gasped, seeing his own turbulent emotion flashing in Mulder's eyes.  
Mulder blinked, mouth slack, and positioned his cock once again.  
Krycek inhaled sharply as Mulder closed his eyes and drove it forward 
deep into Krycek's bowels with a groan.

Krycek whimpered, grimacing, as Mulder's cock opened him up even 
farther.  He lifted his hips to receive its long slide, and Mulder 
sank in even an inch more until Krycek could feel Mulder's soft balls 
nestling against his ass.  Then Mulder opened his eyes again and found 
Krycek beneath him.  Krycek saw a tremulous smile flit over Mulder's 
generous mouth as they both readjusted to this new, extraordinary 
connection.

Krycek's own cock was swollen again, a vivid scarlet lying in the 
crevice of his hip.  Some change in Mulder's eyes, a darkening storm 
brewing there, made Krycek grab for the headboard with his one hand 
and just in time.

Mulder started fucking him again, pumping his ass full of cock over 
and over. He was braced over Krycek, grunting and fucking and rocking 
their bodies together in the bed.  Krycek saw tears leaking out of the 
corners of Mulder's eyes, and they dripped down onto Krycek's chest, 
sliding through his own sweat. Krycek had to close his eyes, Mulder 
was so beautiful.

And soon, Mulder was gasping, and Krycek felt his cock swell larger in 
the cave of his rectum.  Mulder pulled back and withdrew, ripping off 
the condom, and then he held his cock, jacking it, and sprayed his cum 
over Krycek's asshole, over his balls, his sensitive cock and his 
belly.  Mulder let loose ropes of cum, marking Krycek's body with its 
slick warmth.  And as he did, he whined Krycek's name.  Over and over, 
Krycek's name, dripping from his mouth like a prayer.

Mulder held his cock near the head as the last spurts made their way 
out onto Krycek's fevered body, and he smoothed his semen over 
Krycek's ass, making the hole spasm and Krycek groan.

Krycek watched then as Mulder sank between Krycek's legs, face buried 
in the place he'd just so violently fucked, and began to lick him 
clean.  Gently, lovingly stroking with his tongue, cleaning his ass 
slit, delving down to the sensitive cleft, tickling him there, making 
him shiver.  Then he sucked each of Krycek's balls into his mouth one 
at a time.

Krycek lifted his head and noticed that Mulder's eyes were closed, 
lashes lying against his cheeks peacefully.  He released the headboard 
and reached out to his lover, petting the wet strands of hair off his 
forehead.  Mulder sighed. He licked his cum off Krycek's stomach and 
cock, making Krycek whine in pain once.  Mulder kissed his inner thigh 
and then crawled up Krycek's body.  His own arms were shaking as he 
held himself up off of Krycek and looked down into his face.

"Well, Bryce," he said.  "That's the best I got."  He was still 
panting.  "You with me?"

Krycek stared up into eyes so warm they were a caramel brown.  He 
nodded, not trusting his own voice.

"Yeah?" Mulder asked, his own voice quiet now.  Vulnerable.

Krycek tightened his hold in Mulder's hair.  "Yeah," he whispered

Mulder's eyes dropped to Krycek's lips.  "Good," he said.  "Let's go 
add your name to the dictionary."

End

Feedback treasured at shannon@hegalplace.com!

Author's Note:  Okay, so you MSKipper people might remember the birth 
of Bryce. ;)  It all came about one day when the list was discussing a 
game called Gay Chicken, wherein two straight guys lean in to kiss 
each other and the first one to back off loses.  Some dear soul, 
forgive me for not remembering who, suggested she would like to see a 
story where that happened between Mulder and Bryce.

Silence reigned.

Finally, we spoke up and ventured the question, "Um...who the FUCK is 
Bryce???" Lovingly, of course.

She wrote back and clarified that she had typed Krycek but that her 
spell check didn't recognize his name and changed it to the closest 
thing it could come up with which just happened to be Bryce.  I 
laughed so hard I had tears coursing down my cheeks!

Satina ended up writing an M/K called `Gay Chicken', and she and I 
reread it to each other the other night.  We got to giggling all over 
again remembering the woman and her desire for a Mulder/Bryce, Gay 
Chicken fic.

So finally, here is her story (without the Gay Chicken)!  But it's 
Mulder/Bryce, the newest hot pairing in slash!  ;)  Thanks for 
reading!



### The End ###