Title: No Tell Motel 1/1
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek of X-Files
Rating: NC-17/Adults Only
Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: Skippy!Krycek has a booboo. Mulder makes it better.
Notes: Written for staranis for her donation to the Red Cross Katrina fund, commissioned through fandom_charity here.
No Tell Motel
Mulder carried the first aid kit from the car and ushered Krycek into the motel room bathroom, ignoring the other man's protests all the way.
"Take your jacket and shirt off so I can have a look."
Krycek jerked his arm free, hissing through his teeth as the movement jolted the wound.
"It's just a scratch. I can take care of it myself, you don't need to bother."
Shaking his head, Mulder reached out and tugged the jacket collar.
"Let's get this off so I can see the damage, okay? It's either that or I'm driving you to the hospital like I wanted to. I don't care how stoic you are, that was a big damn knife."
Subdued, Krycek slipped the jacket off his right shoulder before easing the raggedly slashed, bloodstained fabric over the gash on his left forearm. Then he unbuttoned his shirt.
The bathroom wasn't really big enough for two, but Mulder didn't withdraw as Krycek undressed. He leaned against the wall, barely out of the way, and watched the other man shrug his way out of the damp white cotton.
The lack of clothing made Krycek's back look even broader - sleek, toned muscles sliding smoothly under lightly tanned skin. Skin that was marked by older scars, uneven threads of palest silver, etched into the planes and angles like a secret treasure map.
The fingers of Mulder's right hand twitched and then curled themselves into a fist, making a swiftly aborted move towards that tempting expanse. Shaking his head, Mulder focused on Krycek's re-opened wound.
"Dammit, you're bleeding again. Let me see." He didn't bother to wait for acknowledgement or permission to touch, simply took a single step that brought him into close contact, his chest brushing Krycek's shoulder as he reached to cradle the damaged limb. They both froze.
"It needs cleaning."
"Let me, okay?"
Krycek watched Mulder's hands as they cleaned and probed the shallow laceration. They both hissed when Mulder applied the stinging disinfectant, and if Krycek leaned a little harder into Mulder's chest, neither of them were about to mention it.
By the time the bandage was in place and securely taped, both of them were breathing rather heavily, and as Mulder twisted to lay the roll of tape on the edge of the sink, his groin brushed Krycek's hip and they gasped in unison.
Krycek's hand on his hip stopped Mulder as he stated to pull back.
Green eyes locked with changeable hazel. Questions were asked and answered in the flicker of lashes and eyelids. And then they moved in tandem, heads angling, moving closer, no hesitant brush of lips this, more open-mouthed hunger. Tongues fought and tangled, probing teeth and cheek and gums, drowning in the taste they'd each longed to savour.
Krycek grunted as the cold porcelain sink connected with the shadowed dip at the base of his spine.
Without separating, they made their way the few feet to the bed, fumbling to remove Mulder's jacket and tie and both pairs of pants. Krycek landed on his back on the cheap, rough bedspread, and groaned as Mulder came down on top of him, groin against groin. Krycek's thighs fell open as they continued to kiss.
Momentarily forgetting his freshly bandaged wound, He tried to pull Mulder even closer. He hissed. Mulder eased back.
"Do you trust me?"
Krycek studied the shadows in Mulder's eyes before nodding slowly. Mulder blinked, then smiled and rolled off to grab his pants, returning in a moment, handcuffs dangling from one finger.
"You're stubborn. You're going to keep trying to use that arm unless it's out of play."
He knelt up on the bed and closed one metal hoop around Krycek's left wrist, then eased the shackled arm up to the headboard, snapping the other cuff around the thin supporting baton.
"Try and remember not to pull too hard, okay? I'd hate to have to explain the bill for damages to A.D. Skinner."
Sliding back down the bed, he realigned their naked bodies, sighing in pleasure as his cock lay flush against Krycek's leaking member. Krycek arched up, seeking friction and increased pressure, and Mulder braced one arm under Krycek's shoulder and slipped his other hand under Krycek's ass and palmed one cheek.
"Oh yeah, this is… Oh, God, yeah…"
The handcuff chains rattled as Krycek flexed his injured arm then cursed and used the other to grab Mulder's short, spiky hair.
"More, dammit. Harder! Hurry up and fuck me! I know you can hardly wait to split me open on that sweet cock. C'mon, you have me chained and helpless and… Oh, you like that, don't you?" He arched into Mulder's cock as it twitched and lengthened at his words.
"Kinky bastard, you wanted this the first time you saw me. I could feel your eyes on my ass every time I turned my back. Want to turn me over and fuck me hard, until I scream? Want me to whimper and beg to let me come? I will."
Mulder tugged his hand out from under Krycek's ass and lifted it to the mouth that was talking him ever closer to the edge, pleased when Krycek opened and sucked and laved the offered fingers. Then he slipped it back and between those lower, harder cheeks. Two fingers pushed almost easily through the grasping ring of muscle, and Krycek began to writhe, working himself between Mulder's fingers and the sweet slip slide of cock on cock.
"Fuck! Harder… More… Oh, God, please!"
Mulder added a third damp finger and Krycek screamed out his orgasm.
"That’s… Yes. Yes! Oh… Oh! Ahhhhhhh! Oh, yeah…"
Krycek's cock twitched and pulsed as he came in shuddering spurts. Mulder rutted himself against the slickness of Krycek's flesh and followed him over the edge in voiceless wonder before collapsing.
Countless minutes later, he eased his fingers out of Krycek's ass and rolled to one side, ignoring the sticky peeling away sensation.
"Regrets?" Mulder asked cautiously.
"Only that we didn't do this sooner."