When Worlds Collide!!
Movement 2: the Valhalla Chapter
Rating: R possibly higher for shoe violence
Summary: The kids play a game and we find out why it's called slash.
Spoilers: Milk!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Writer's Note: Well you've amazed me beyond recognition if you are reading this. It means I'm either amusing you on some level this is some morbid fascination with my writings. Either way I salute you! This is movement two in which this is probably the closets your going to get to slash, why because it's a response to a lot of slash out there and what the hell: I like men. Any who this is another chapter of sex and violence. ENJOY!
Suggested Music: Some that really nifty like New Wave.
"I get my kicks above the waist line sun shine"
~One Night in Bangkok
So as the pounding in his ear started to calm and settle to a low hum, he started to breath normally again. He could feel the blood pumping through his hard veins and his lungs wretched for fresh air. He could feel the blood and sweat stinging his eyes and then blinked rapidly. The sharp pain in his side started to number as a haze came over him. He was bleeding, tired, being perused by men with guns, and he just ran out of bullets.
So far Alex Krycek's day was shaping up to be just super.
He sat trying to rationalize how was going to get out of this little trap. He didn't know what he took or how he took it just that he got caught. That wasn't so much the point. The point was how the fuck was he going to get out? Getting caught wasn't a problem until you were faced with death. Getting out is a different story. He tried to think calmly as he heard footsteps approach. He tried to hush his ragged breath as they crew closer. He concentrated on the voices as they approached; he recognized that language.
"French" he thought as the voice grew closer then farer away. He sighed in relief and waited for what seemed like an eternity before even thinking of checking to see if the coast was clear. He breathed again before standing up slowly. This might possibly the dumbest thing that our hero could have done. As he stood up a large blunt object attached to a hand came down on the back of his head. The blackness and floor came rushing towards him.
***Later on when we are were are all dancing***
His head was groggy as he slowly woke up. He took in his surrounding, dirty yet neat. His eyes focused on the darkness as he tried to move. It dawned on him; whatever he was on he had be securely hand cuffed to. He stared up above him where his hand was dangling; it appeared to be an ornate brass headboard. Original he thought sarcastically. He wondered what the point of this. After all he couldn't a good reason any one would want him bondage. Well, not a safe reason. He sat staring up at the ceiling really wishing that who ever or what ever would just make themselves public.
"So, this is where our game of cat and mouse ends."
Krycek lifted his head up to the familiar voice. He eyes narrowed in shock and confusion. No it couldn't be him. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of stomach. Oh, God could this day get any worse. The only thing that bothered him was how the hell did Mulder know where to find him. There he was: the man, the myth, and the monotone.
"You look pretty good for some one whose suppose to be dead." Spoke the great Fox Mulder.
"You'd be amazed who's dead these day. We all have lunch on Fridays kind of our little club." He blurted out carefully. His Voice cracked like some choirboy going through puberty. What the hell was wrong of him? He sounded scared to himself. This was the man he was able to beat even with one hand. Wait wasn't that how he beat himself…if these were his last thoughts he could do better. Still why was he like this? Oh, yea, it was the big fucking gun that was resting between his ribs. That's why he was acting scared. "What the fuck do you want Mulder?"
He could feel the shift in weight of the spring as Mulder sat on the bed and peered down at him. A smile came over him.
"Exactly." With that Mulder planted a tender kiss on our hero's lips.
"Um…Mulder, I don't know how to say this but I get my kicks above the waistline."
"I think we can change that."
Krycek wasn't too pleased on what that most likely detailed. He could feel the weight and pressure of Mulder's body on his. He struggled under harsh kissing that followed but it seemed not to be working. It was this point that Our Hero gave up. This somewhat twisted rape only came to an end when a sickening thud was heard. Mulder collapsed to the floor. Krycek tighten his eyes chanting over in his mind. "Please not Skinner. Please not Skinner."
"He's my bitch pencil neck." Said one of the voices from earlier
"Was that really necessary?" replied the next.
Krycek opened his eyes and looked up. He saw that his comrades. Luckily they had come along before the Mulder thing got to out of hand. He sighed as all three of them looked down at Mulder.
"Well Marita I think you killed him." Said Palmer. He heard Mulder groan. "My mistake."
"When did he get here?"
"Dude I don't know."
"I hope your both happy. I broke the heel on my favorite shoe on that punk."
"Hey, Marita, read this thought."
"Hey, Clark, Bite me."
"So," Krycek interjected. "The Paint Ball Game is over."
"Yea." Palmer. "So What now?"
"How about we uncuff me and go."
"How about we all just make out."
Krycek and Palmer looked at each other and then at Marita.
"Ok."
Movement 2: the Valhalla Chapter
Rating: R possibly higher for shoe violence
Summary: The kids play a game and we find out why it's called slash.
Spoilers: Milk!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Writer's Note: Well you've amazed me beyond recognition if you are reading this. It means I'm either amusing you on some level this is some morbid fascination with my writings. Either way I salute you! This is movement two in which this is probably the closets your going to get to slash, why because it's a response to a lot of slash out there and what the hell: I like men. Any who this is another chapter of sex and violence. ENJOY!
Suggested Music: Some that really nifty like New Wave.
"I get my kicks above the waist line sun shine"
~One Night in Bangkok
So as the pounding in his ear started to calm and settle to a low hum, he started to breath normally again. He could feel the blood pumping through his hard veins and his lungs wretched for fresh air. He could feel the blood and sweat stinging his eyes and then blinked rapidly. The sharp pain in his side started to number as a haze came over him. He was bleeding, tired, being perused by men with guns, and he just ran out of bullets.
So far Alex Krycek's day was shaping up to be just super.
He sat trying to rationalize how was going to get out of this little trap. He didn't know what he took or how he took it just that he got caught. That wasn't so much the point. The point was how the fuck was he going to get out? Getting caught wasn't a problem until you were faced with death. Getting out is a different story. He tried to think calmly as he heard footsteps approach. He tried to hush his ragged breath as they crew closer. He concentrated on the voices as they approached; he recognized that language.
"French" he thought as the voice grew closer then farer away. He sighed in relief and waited for what seemed like an eternity before even thinking of checking to see if the coast was clear. He breathed again before standing up slowly. This might possibly the dumbest thing that our hero could have done. As he stood up a large blunt object attached to a hand came down on the back of his head. The blackness and floor came rushing towards him.
***Later on when we are were are all dancing***
His head was groggy as he slowly woke up. He took in his surrounding, dirty yet neat. His eyes focused on the darkness as he tried to move. It dawned on him; whatever he was on he had be securely hand cuffed to. He stared up above him where his hand was dangling; it appeared to be an ornate brass headboard. Original he thought sarcastically. He wondered what the point of this. After all he couldn't a good reason any one would want him bondage. Well, not a safe reason. He sat staring up at the ceiling really wishing that who ever or what ever would just make themselves public.
"So, this is where our game of cat and mouse ends."
Krycek lifted his head up to the familiar voice. He eyes narrowed in shock and confusion. No it couldn't be him. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of stomach. Oh, God could this day get any worse. The only thing that bothered him was how the hell did Mulder know where to find him. There he was: the man, the myth, and the monotone.
"You look pretty good for some one whose suppose to be dead." Spoke the great Fox Mulder.
"You'd be amazed who's dead these day. We all have lunch on Fridays kind of our little club." He blurted out carefully. His Voice cracked like some choirboy going through puberty. What the hell was wrong of him? He sounded scared to himself. This was the man he was able to beat even with one hand. Wait wasn't that how he beat himself…if these were his last thoughts he could do better. Still why was he like this? Oh, yea, it was the big fucking gun that was resting between his ribs. That's why he was acting scared. "What the fuck do you want Mulder?"
He could feel the shift in weight of the spring as Mulder sat on the bed and peered down at him. A smile came over him.
"Exactly." With that Mulder planted a tender kiss on our hero's lips.
"Um…Mulder, I don't know how to say this but I get my kicks above the waistline."
"I think we can change that."
Krycek wasn't too pleased on what that most likely detailed. He could feel the weight and pressure of Mulder's body on his. He struggled under harsh kissing that followed but it seemed not to be working. It was this point that Our Hero gave up. This somewhat twisted rape only came to an end when a sickening thud was heard. Mulder collapsed to the floor. Krycek tighten his eyes chanting over in his mind. "Please not Skinner. Please not Skinner."
"He's my bitch pencil neck." Said one of the voices from earlier
"Was that really necessary?" replied the next.
Krycek opened his eyes and looked up. He saw that his comrades. Luckily they had come along before the Mulder thing got to out of hand. He sighed as all three of them looked down at Mulder.
"Well Marita I think you killed him." Said Palmer. He heard Mulder groan. "My mistake."
"When did he get here?"
"Dude I don't know."
"I hope your both happy. I broke the heel on my favorite shoe on that punk."
"Hey, Marita, read this thought."
"Hey, Clark, Bite me."
"So," Krycek interjected. "The Paint Ball Game is over."
"Yea." Palmer. "So What now?"
"How about we uncuff me and go."
"How about we all just make out."
Krycek and Palmer looked at each other and then at Marita.
"Ok."