September 2004
The green eyes darkened as Krycek gasped, and Mulder let out a groan of exertion. Hard and fast he drew back and slammed forward, again and again. He held Krycek in place, both of them sweating, and he watched Krycek's face for every reaction.
Finally, it was enough and he gasped his satisfaction. He stared down at the panting man. "Fuck you," he hissed, backing away from the battered, bleeding man at his feet. He finally felt some relief of the tension that Krycek's presence always brought on, released by the pounding blows.
He wasn't sublimating, he thought. He wasn't.
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