Mulder/Krycek  NC-17 

Warning:  Discipline and mild BDSM.

For Shan, 

(who told me Film Noir originally referred to darkly lit, moody, hard-bitten films accompanied by mournful saxophone jazz solos but that the truth was simply that they were shot with a low budget so the dark lighting hid the simplicity of the sets. Which reminded me of most of the X-files eps I've seen -  LOL )

The silence is pierced only by the slapping sound of flesh on flesh and my own occasional grunts of exertion. Not even a whimper can escape from behind his gag although, from his maddened writhing against the restraints, it is obvious that my deep thrusts are tearing gut-wrenching sobs from his now tender frame. I know his wails are gathering like a tsunami behind the unbreachable dam of the heavy rubber ball that distorts his mouth into an endless, silent scream. I am vaguely tempted to rip the bridle from his sweat-drenched head and allow the sound of his delicious agony to blast through the night.

But then I'd have to punish him for making a noise, and I'm not really in the mood. The gag is as much a kindness to me tonight as it is to him.

I twist my hips a little, changing the angle of my drive into his flesh so that I can pound against that secret place inside him. Then I gradually  increase the power of my thrusts until my balls are slapping hard enough against the back of his scrotum to make it move despite the heavy lead weight that I attached to his cock ring.   He squirms beneath me,  the knotted muscles of his thighs trembling so much that without the spreader bar he would surely collapse to a prone position. 

It's too dark to see clearly. A bank of clouds has rolled between us and the moonlight that was shining through the window to illuminate us earlier and even the delicious paleness of his flesh has faded to just another shade of gray in the dark spectrum of night.

So it is by feel alone that I judge the accuracy of my blow as I slap him hard on the buttocks. The result is electrifying. The flesh of his ass is so swollen that I feel the heat emanating from him before my palm even connects with his skin. My smack is little more than a love-tap, but it is enough to make him arch upward in agony. I take advantage of this further raising of his ass to drive almost balls-deep inside his flesh.

A tiny squeal somehow escapes the savage gag and he freezes in horror.

I sigh.

If he hadn't acknowledged his own disobedience, then I might have been tempted to ignore it. After all, I had chosen the gag myself and so it was not really *his* fault that it had proven inadequate.

But I have to be consistent, don't I? Or he'll never learn the control he so badly needs.

The moon takes that moment to break through the cloud cover and it shines through the dirty windowpane. The intense blackness reverts to a lighter palette so that his skin is mottled with camouflage patches of different grays.  Seeing the dark bands across his back and ass, I make a decision. 

Neither of us is up to another session with the whip tonight. It's not just because I have an early flight booked. It's also because he already looks like he's gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. He's already in so much pain that he's flying on the wrong side of stoned.

So, instead, I creep my hand around to stroke his cock in time with my thrusts. Slick with sweat, the hard flesh quivers under my fingers and I pull against it savagely, rolling the skin between my fingers until it's evident that he has completely forgotten the pain in his ass by the way he starts to grind his buttocks hungrily against my cock.

His sweet asshole is pulsing with need now, clenching hungrily in a desperate attempt to claim my cum, so I twist his balls viciously to remind him who's in control here.

His forehead drops instantly to the pillow in a gesture of complete submission, and his ass relaxes around me, surrendering itself to my whims. His physical control is increasing, I realize with pleasure. I am so proud of him that I am tempted to forgo his punishment but since the gag was only a concession on my part anyway, it would be irresponsible of me to ignore his breach of control.

I run my fingers questingly around his groin. The heavy weight has separated and stretched his balls into an inferno of  tight swollen flesh. I tease my hand down his rigid shaft and check the placement of the metal cock rings. Then I give the end of the Prince Albert a cruel tweak, but leave it in place.

He almost leaps off the bed in reaction. It takes all my strength to grab both of his hips and hold him rigid until he stops thrashing beneath me. He knows now what his punishment will be and it is too much for him to cope with in this heightened state of arousal.

Which is, of course, why it's called punishment.

I know him well enough to understand that without the gag he'd be screaming at me now, alternating between cursing and begging. That's why the gag is a kindness.  His inability to voice his protests somehow helps him to simply let them go. His defeat becomes less humiliating for him and less painful for me.

He still struggles for a time. Testing his restraints, testing my patience perhaps then , abruptly, he sags and goes limp as the fight simply drains out of him.   Although it is too dark for me to see his features, I know that his eyes are now closed and dripping a stream of silent tears. He isn't even quivering anymore. He's gone past the point of hope and has finally accepted that nothing will happen here except the enactment of my own desire.

He's irresistible when he submits completely like this.

I unsnap the spreader bar and release his restraints. His subjugation is mental now, so there's no need to bind him physically. That's not why I release him, though. I release him simply to drive home the message that he *did* submit to me totally.  It's a good lesson to leave him with whenever I have to go out of town for a few days.

I feel my balls tighten with anticipation and I begin to move within him once more. His flesh is pliant now. Still hot and delicious against my cock but completely defeated. He is nothing now except a vessel for my pleasure.

Now I can simply take him with my own chosen rhythm. There is no longer any need to wonder whether my touch brings him pleasure or pain. He is simply here for my enjoyment, and he accepts this with a bowed head and open thighs as I power into him so savagely that I lift him off the mattress with each thrust.

Perhaps it is the sweetness of his submission that drives me over the edge so quickly. I barely manage to skewer him a half-dozen times before I spill my seed inside him with a roar of satisfaction.  He collapses to the mattress and I fall with him, pining his body with mine as I continue to pump into him until my balls are so drained that it almost hurts.

We lie there together until the room begins to feel chilly against my naked back. Only then, when it is at MY convenience to move, do I withdraw my softened cock from his ass and reach up to release the bridle that holds his gag in place.

It marks the end of our session and so, although he gasps and twists so that he can bury his face into my chest,  I know that his ragged hitching sobs are less relief than bitter disappointment.

He burrows into me, clutching me as tightly as it is possible for an exhausted, beaten, one-armed man to do, and the swollen stiffness of his neglected cock rubs hopefully against my thighs.

"Please," he whimpers.

The word is so humble, so broken, that all I want to do right now is rip the vicious caging from his cock and balls and bathe his hot frustrated shaft with my tongue. 

But I force myself to be strong.

"I told you I was too tired to play tonight, but you insisted anyway," I remind him. "You knew that the price of my agreement was your silence. I even let you wear the gag to make it easier for you.. YOU broke the rules, Alex, so now you have to wait until the morning."

Even in the dim light, I can see his eyes sparkling with tears of frustration as he gazes at my face, clearly contemplating the chances of changing my mind.

"No, Alex," I say firmly, although the words almost break my heart.

It is proof of his obedience to me that he accepts my decision with nothing more than an anguished wail. There is nothing to stop him from ripping the Prince Albert out himself. Nothing to stop him simply saying "Fuck you, Mulder and the horse you rode in on."

Instead, he simply sobs and clings on to me as though he is drowning and I am his lifeline. Which, I suppose, is more truth than analogy.

"It's late," I tell him softly, as I pull the bedcovers up over our bodies and adjust my position so that he can snuggle more comfortably against me. 

He's silent for a long time and when he finally speaks, his voice is so shy and hesitant that no-one would ever believe the tone could emerge from the mouth of an ex-assassin.

"You're leaving at six, right?"

"IF I get some sleep," I point out.

"Will you...umm...will we...?"

I smile in the moonlight then lean down and kiss his forehead.

"Of course," I promise. "I wouldn't leave you like this."

He gives a trusting mewl of happiness and relaxes against me.  He knows that I will keep my promise. I always keep my promises to him. Good AND bad.

It's why he stays with me.

I control him with my discipline.

But I keep him with my love.

The End