****************WARNING!!!!*******************
This fanfic contains both sexual situations and graphic Mulder
Torture. You have been warned!
***************WARNING!!!!*******************
Title: Dirty Laundry 3:
The Voyeuristic Sundae
Author: Amber M. Howard
Rating: NC-17. As
morally depraved as you've come to expect.
Keywords: Scully/Krycek.
Mulder Torture.
Spoilers: None.
Archive: Wherever and
whenever. Just ask.
Feedback: SunnyAngel80@juno.com
Disclaimer: The characters
from the show "The X-Files" belong to their cruel
dominatrix master Chris Carter, who proudly parades them up and
down his 1013 torture rack every Sunday night on your local Fox
station. I'm much more understanding. I give them sex
lives too.
Summary: A recipe for
disaster: Tie FBI agent to bed. Add his two double crossing
sexually enthusiastic ex-partners. Top with chocolate
syrup. Give the Lone Gunmen spoons.
Author's Note: This will
probably make no sense if you haven't read my fanfics
"Dirty Laundry" and "Storm of Revenge" which
can be found at a trashy and tasteless SKipper site near YOU.
(Just kidding Megan, Samantha, and Charlene. By the
way, we don't need a campfire, and why are you heating that
machete?)
They couldn't help it.
As much as it made Langly's glasses fog over, or offended Byers's sensitive taste, or yanked violently on Frohike's delicate heartstrings and made him want to crawl into a Scotch bottle and stay there, they couldn't stand not to watch.
So they watched.
*************************
Scully and Krycek dragged Mulder toward the bedroom as the cameras followed them through the apartment.
"Couldn't leave us alone, could you, Mulder?" hissed Krycek.
Mulder thought of begging Scully for help, but she was doing most of the pulling as Krycek only had one arm. And the thought of struggling, of the possibility of hitting her was still obscene and off-limits to him, somehow.
They handcuffed him to the bed anyway.
Krycek calmly reached into one of the nightstand drawers, pulled out an insanely large knife, and proceeded to cut off his clothes. When he was done, Scully reached over and stroked his skin.
"As smooth as a baby's ass." she smiled evily. "Just remember, if you'd treated me better, it would have been you."
He shuddered with regret and a tear slipped down his cheek.
They had no mercy for him.
*************************
The three men wore identical looks of silent heart-wrenching horror. Tears ran down their cheeks. Six hands tore wadded up Kleenex to shreds in their already bulging laps.
And still they watched.
*************************
Krycek kissed Scully, their moist lips fawning over each other, a mere preview of the unholy union that was forthcoming.
She pushed him down over Mulder's bare, soft, vulnerable belly and unzipped him, the once pure and honorable mouth of his soul mate moistly stroking the concentrated hardness of his worst enemy.
He wished he hadn't skipped breakfast that morning. Even vomiting would be a mercy.
He felt Krycek moan and writhe in perfect ecstasy and wished him dead, burned, mutilated like the others. But struggling would only force him upwards, and the thought of choking Scully was abhorrent.
*************************
They passed around the bottle, the Scotch going down their throats, burning like pure hellfire. It was no comfort. Only a reminder.
And still they watched.
*************************
Scully walked into the bathroom and moments later, the sound of running water traveled back, then stopped just before she returned with a wet washcloth and gently cleaned her lover's genitals.
Then he stripped her. After she was bared to him, all of her, he removed a bottle of Hershey's syrup from the cooler. She shuddered softly as the cool gooey substance spread over her and was licked off perfectly.
Mulder could have struggled, but hitting her, even gently, was a thought so horrid his mind squashed it immediately.
*************************
Frohike paused the video, and they all ran into the bathroom. None of them even thought of missing a masochistic second.
*************************
And, finally, they made love. Or would Mulder have said hate? They would never have cared as they burst with orgasm into hell's dark flame.
*************************
The Smoking Man walked into the warehouse basement to tower over the tiny, courageous redhead. He smiled as he ran his old, wrinkled, nicotine-stained fingers over the scar where the blood had been drawn. He bent down and kissed her wet cheek, blowing carcinogens into her pure skin.
Then he turned and left.
The End…
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