Warning (and
Disclaimer): This is not a nice story. If mean behavior on
the part of fictional characters depresses you, then don't read this.
(The fictional characters involved are not mine, as I'm certain you all
know.)
This is an AU.
Betrayal
by Sylvia
I knew what he was from the first time I laid eyes on
him. Hell, before that, even - it was inevitable they'd try again.
Persistent isn't the right word for them. There *is* no word for them…
bastards is much too mild.
The man they'd sent to spy on me,
gain my trust, and betray me stiffened beneath me as I thrust into him
for the last time. I came silently and immediately pried my hands from
his hips, withdrawing to flop onto the bed on my back, shivery
aftershocks of pleasure racing through my body.
I closed my eyes and sighed. Peace… a moment of blessed, precious peace.
The
brief, fragile respite from the enemies besieging me from without and
within my own mind splintered as the traitor next to me moved. With
him, even the elementary motion of turning over was hesitant, slightly
awkward. I still wasn't certain how much of his awkwardness was
genuine. Not that it mattered - genuine or not, it was damn annoying.
Of course, it was hopeless to wish that he would keep his mouth shut.
He never did.
After an almost diffident clearing of the throat, he shifted closer
still. "Uhm, Fox?"
"Don't
call me that," I told him evenly, not bothering to open my eyes and
look at him. I knew what expression he'd be wearing - worried he'd done
something wrong… sickeningly anxious to please.
Idiot. How often did I have to say it before it penetrated?
"Uh, sorry, I - Mulder…"
Fortunately,
the inexperience and hero-worship he'd laid on so thickly forced him to
pretend to a measure of embarrassed uncertainty that prevented him from
bothering me with whatever inane comment it was he'd have liked to
bother me with. He wouldn't come out with it unless I encouraged him in
some way, and that, I certainly wasn't going to do.
The mattress
shifted as he leaned over. I opened my eyes to stare up into his face;
it was hovering far closer than I liked. His gaze darted to meet mine
and then shied away again, the darkness obscuring his face and
swallowing the exact expression in his eyes.
I stared at him for
a second or two before he began to lean down. When I turned my face
away, he froze and retreated, doing a rather good job of seeming
insecure, confused, and unhappy.
Not even a minute of precious
stillness had passed before he moved again, the rustling of sheets and
the quiet, subsiding quality to his motions indicating that he was
settling down.
I turned my head to the other side and watched
him curl up, facing me. Watching me. He seemed anxious and when my eyes
met his, he uncurled and crawled a bit closer, giving every indication
of meaning to nestle against me… of spending the night curled against
my side like a lover, snuggling up regardless of whether or not I
snuggled back.
Was it stupidity or determination? A bit of both, probably.
"Turn off the light in the living room when you leave," I said, closing
my eyes again.
The
silence stretched for so long that I was beginning to think I'd have to
get even clearer by the time he finally got out of my bed, collected
his clothes, and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I
couldn't believe they'd consider me stupid enough to fall for him and
his stupid admiring act. They obviously hadn't chosen him for his
acting skills, because he overdid it dreadfully.
No, they'd
chosen someone with a body and face they'd hoped would appeal - picked
him for his sea-green, lying eyes and long dark lashes. Then, they'd
stuck him into a cheap suit and slicked his hair back to make him look
like the original geeky nerd so that it wouldn't be too obvious they
were purposely dangling a deliciously fuckable morsel in front of me.
They were obviously hoping that if they made me look twice to see the
quality of the goods, I'd think I'd made some kind of grand,
never-before-made discovery.
Cheap trick, trying to grab me by the gonads. They should have known
better than that, the bastards.
Upon
discovering that for me, screwing someone is not a synonym for trusting
them, the traitor put a cool and distant, wounded routine into effect
to replace his earlier over-eager adoration. He didn't pull this one
off too well, either. Not that he made any obvious mistakes, but it was
all laid on just a bit too thick - the anxiety, the pain, and
especially the longing. The way he watched me with wide, reproachful
eyes made him look like a cocker spaniel with a bad hair day. Pure
melodrama.
I ignored him. After a while, he caught on to the
fact that he wasn't getting anywhere this way and gradually settled
back down into his earlier, even more annoying hopeful-puppy routine.
After
about two weeks of this, I decided I was going to fuck him again. He
was an annoying bastard and a damn traitor, but what the hell. Might as
well put him to some use. I like sex as much as the next guy; the
reason I don't often indulge is not that I'm not interested, but that I
have better things to do with my time than chase after prospective
sexual partners. And I despise being chased.
"You want to come over tonight?"
He froze like a deer in the headlights and stared at me with wide green
eyes.
Easier than easy, he was. No trouble at all. "Ten," I said, turning
back to my work without waiting for an answer.
He'd be there. He had a job to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He
turned up at ten sharp, his hair ungelled for once. He'd changed out of
the awful polyester suit, too; in jeans and a sweater, he looked almost
like a normal human being, and the dark hair falling softly into his
face added to his shy, boyish appeal.
"Did you - want to go somewhere? Out?" Still overdoing the awkwardness.
I
raised an eyebrow at him and turned to walk into the living room,
leaving him to trail after me uncertainly. He was clearly in over his
head. He'd probably be relegated to some backwater outpost if he
survived this assignment - they ought to put him to work doing
inventories of smuggled weaponry or some such undemanding task.
When
the traitor saw the empty cartons of Chinese take-out clustered at one
end of my sofa, he darted a quick gaze in my general direction and then
looked away, fixing his eyes on the aquarium. "You've eaten already. I
thought…"
There was a certain freedom in the fact that with him,
there was no need to worry about observing social niceties… not to
mention that there was no question what he wanted out of the
relationship, if you could call it that. And there was absolutely no
need to worry about hurting his feelings.
Silence made him
nervous. He always felt obliged to fill it with something, no matter
how foolish the remark. "Mulder? I don't really know why I'm here. I
mean, after the last time I thought - that you didn't - that it wasn't
-"
I sighed. "Come over here."
He shot me an almost
hunted look, but came over to stand in front of me, hanging his head
almost penitently and gazing up at me through his lashes. Nervous,
uncertain, fearful… Completely overdone.
"You know perfectly well why you're here," I stated flatly.
When
I reached for his belt, he pretended to be startled and began to back
away. I lifted an eyebrow, staring at him impatiently. "If you want to
leave… you know where the door is."
He didn't leave, of course.
After
a moment, he tried to kiss me again, but gave up when he noticed I
wasn't about to oblige. He wasn't much help in getting his clothes off,
though. By the time I'd gotten him undressed, I was seriously annoyed
with him. It was more than bothersome to be forced to witness his
overstated performance of dejected confusion. Where had they found this
guy, for God's sake? You'd think they'd have the sense to pick someone
who didn't think he was playing the lead in a daily soap.
It got
better once I had him on the floor. The only further trouble he gave me
was a very brief show of reluctance when I indicated I wanted him on
his hands and knees. He subsided soon enough, though, and I lubed him
up and mounted him without further ado. He held still and kept quiet
except for the occasional involuntary sound when my pace increased as I
approached climax.
Long legs, firm ass, well-shaped, muscular
back… He was a spy and a damn traitor, but he was well built and it
felt good fucking him. Tight as a virgin. I liked that. Liked the bit
of squirming, too. Didn't even mind the small sounds of almost-pain he
made from time to time. Once you got him to shut up and get down on his
hands and knees, he was not at all bad to be around. A really nice
piece of ass.
I made it last as long as I could - it felt good,
and I didn't want it to be over too quickly. The traitor was as still
and quiet as I'd ever known him. Even after I'd finished and pulled
out, he didn't move.
The damp towel I'd slung over the back of
the couch was still warm and I snagged it and cleaned myself off before
pulling up my pants and hauling myself up to sprawl bonelessly on the
cushions. I sighed in relief as the familiar, transient moment of
post-coital inner silence caught up with me, cradling me in the blessed
illusion of peace.
It took me a moment to notice he'd raised his
head to look at me. There was a new expression in his eyes now,
something I hadn't seen there before and couldn't place properly.
"Finished?" His voice was low, shot through with the same
unidentifiable emotion.
He was a traitor, that's what he was -
and that was all he was. A traitor who was trying to gain my trust, to
get close to me, all the better to betray me in the end. He was trying
to use me. Well, two could play at that game.
"Yeah," I drawled, giving him a lazy half-smile.
He got up slowly and just stood there for a moment, staring at me.
"Okay,"
he said finally. For a moment, I almost thought his voice would break.
Fortunately, even he wasn't quite prepared to go that far over the
edge. It was a close thing, though. Jesus. Oscar material, he wasn't.
"Okay. I got it."
He was not the brightest kid on the block, but
he wasn't completely clueless, either. I didn't have to say anything;
he just got dressed and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'd
known what he was all along, so it wasn't a surprise to find the
tell-tale cigarette butts in his car. In fact, I was almost relieved.
When
I'm right, I *know* I'm right. I don't need to substantiate what I know
with tangible evidence. I know a traitor when I see one. Still, it's
reassuring to be given proof every once in a while.
The End.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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