Title: Disaster, Fiasco & Tragedy |
Authors: Zoe Takashi & Louise Wu, Email Us
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content.
Warning: Anal sex. Some kink.
Note: What are a couple of slashers doing writing a het story? If god had intended men and women to fornicate, he'd have given them matching genitals, right? Please pray for us godforsaken sinners.
Spoilers: Tunguska/Terma. Takes place after Scully's cancer remission, but before Emily.
Summary: Scully and a gay Krycek trapped in a cell together.
Beta Thanks: Loren Q, Flimsygirl Ness, Alex, Lyrical Soul
Inspiration Thanks: Rachel Anton's World Without End, Book One, the first sex scene. Wow!
Disclaimer: Scully, Krycek, Mulder and other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement of rights is intended.
Comment: This story was written using a technique we call method slash writing, which is based on method acting. We each became a character and controlled that character's words and actions. For more information on this writing technique see: http://slashfactory.com/Docs/Method.html
Disaster, Fiasco & Tragedy
Oh, fuck... my head hurts. Wakey, wakey, Krycek.
I glance around the room and find myself alone in what is obviously a cell. It seems familiar. I'd know that smell anywhere. It's a distinctive odor that is part hospital, part Chem lab and mildly nauseous. This must be the old Consortium facility near Baltimore.
I check the door. Locked.
The last thing I remember is breakfast at a diner in Dupont Circle. That smoking son of a bitch must have had one of his cronies pick me up. I'm pissed and mortified that some no-count goon was able to get the drop on me so easily. I don't recall what happened, but a lump on my head gives me a not-very-subtle hint.
I'm oddly grateful that I've already been infected with the Piper Maru black oil, because it makes me a questionable subject for their tests. So I don't have to worry about being hauled off to one of the labs as a non-volunteer for their hideous experiments.
What I do have to worry about is more prosaic. Torture is very likely. A bullet in the brain is always a possibility.
They took my leather jacket, which had almost everything important in it--my gun, car keys, wallet, fake identity, money and my emergency stash of Valrhona chocolate. My stomach growls at the very thought. I search the pockets of my jeans, finding one dime and a piece of sugarless gum that has come loose from its wrapper and is now covered with denim lint.
On the bright side, they did not take my arm. Seems they see it as merely a useless piece of plastic. How wrong they are!
I hunker down at the door. There's no fat keyhole to look through, but there's a good sized crack between the side of the door and the molding, about eight inches off the floor. I can see the lower half of what appears to be a guard. Nice hiking boots. My size? Perhaps, but even I wouldn't take shoes off a (soon to be) corpse.
I'm not going anywhere for a while I suppose, so I pace around the room, which is only six paces long and two paces from the wall to the bed. It's your basic fucking cell. Plush compared to Tunguska, but only consisting of a toilet, tiny sink in the corner and a single bed with a thin, gray-striped mattress. And me without my leather jacket to use as a pillow. I guess I'll have to check out before bedtime. No window, just bare concrete walls. If they'd shown the slightest consideration for my mental health, they'd have hung a scenic painting or provided a live plant.
I kneel and look under the bed, not really expecting to find anything, but because it would be stupid not to. Check out the territory... The only thing I discover is that their cleaning crew sweeps everything under the bed. The dust is thick enough to conceal a corpse. If the janitor should show up while I'm in here, I'm going to hide his body under there as his comeuppance. Alas, no one has left me any weapons or gourmet chocolate buried under the dust bunnies. My nose twitches with a threatened sneeze, so I rise to get away from mite heaven.
There's nothing to do in here and I'm almost compulsive enough to clean under the bed, but no one has provided me with a mop or bottle of Pine-Sol. And I might need the four sheets of toilet paper for something more pressing.
I lower myself to the floor again to peer through the door crack. Those hiking boots are coming toward me and the door is being unlocked. I jump up and put myself behind the door, bracing a leg for maximum leverage. The door opens inward halfway and something large is thrown directly onto the bed. I shove hard on the door with my booted foot, but someone is pushing back on the other side. I release my weight from the door, hoping for sudden slippage, but it just closes again and I hear the snick of the lock.
There's a sound coming from whatever they threw on the bed. It sounds suspiciously like a giggle. The lump rolls over, pushing red hair away from a pale face, and sits up.
Oh, god. It's Dana Scully.
"Alex Krycek!" She sounds... happy? "Krycek, Alex. Alex Krycek. A period Krycek. Alex K period." She flops back on the bed and waves her fingers in front of her face.
Or maybe it's a psychotic Scully clone? Taking my life into my hands, I step closer to the bed, peering at her with trepidation.
She looks up at me. "Oh, hello. Are you still here? Never mind. Of course you're still here. Stupid question to ask someone standing in front of you, Dana. Shouldn't Mulder be hitting you?" She glances around the room. "Oh, another dream." She suddenly sits up and leans forward reaching out to tap my prosthetic arm. "But I've never dreamt that before. Hmm... wonder what that means?" She flops back again, tapping her forehead with a finger. "Mulder would know. Not that I could ever ask him. Supposedly you're everyone in your dreams, so it's curious enough that I manifest myself as you, but I don't know why I would cut off my arm. Oh look... a spider web." She points at the ceiling.
I can't hold back a chuckle. The lovely Agent Scully is stoned out of her mind. Someone has obviously given her something to make her talk. It's quite effective.
Someone gave me a blabbermouth cocktail once. I remember talking about my high school Algebra teacher in loving detail... including his fondness for pristine white Nikes and the fact that he dresses left. I suppose it takes a lot of patience to conduct one of those interviews.
Of all the people they could throw in here with me, Scully wouldn't exactly be my first choice. I'm sure if Mulder were here he'd find some way to blame me for this.
I've got to get out of this funhouse before something worse happens.
I squat on the floor again, peering through the door crack. Same shoes, facing me.
I hear a thump and turn around to find Scully crawling around, butt up in the air and her face a mere inch from the floor. She's wearing some sort of loose pajama type clothes of nondescript color. "This place is a mess. Toxcitia, ghiardia..." She's close to the toilet. "And I know that's crawling with staph." She crawls back to the bed and peers under, issuing a high pitched squeal. "Eww.... why would I dream up something so heinous? It must have been the pizza. I should never let Mulder pick dinner." She rocks back on her heels and stares at me. "You're not being very cooperative. What's the matter with you?"
Fuck, I'm doomed. What's a gay boy like me doing trapped here with psycho babe? I wish this was a dream. What am I going to do for entertainment until checkout?
Sitting up, I lean back against the door. "Cooperative with what, Scully? Just what is it you'd like me to be doing?"
She looks perplexed. "Don't get all stiff'n'starchy with me, Alex."
"You are my subconscious and I want you to behave!" She starts to mumble. "Of course, you never do... always springing stuff on me at night when I should be resting and I have to carry around this shit all day..." She trails off then looks at me intently. "But at least you're usually engaging . This time you're just looking under the door. I wonder what that means? Me looking under a door... doors aren't one of those Freudian genital metaphors, are they? No... that's door knobs. Stay away from the knobs... I don't like it when we get all sexual. It's creepy the next morning."
God, Scully's a loon. She always did seem a little... repressed. This is almost fun. Maybe there is entertainment to be had here after all.
"Yeah," I reply absently. My fingers play with my earlobe, a familiar fidget, as I pull my thoughts together. "So, Sc--Dana, tell me about some of those sexual dreams."
She grins at me. "Whew... I thought we were going to have to have a talk about that whole 'Scully' thing. I worry when I start referring to myself as Scully, and you know how it bothers me. What was the question? Oh... sex dreams. I was perturbed when you started popping up in my dreams but I know my libido doesn't realize you're a rat bastard... it just thinks you're damn sexy. I have to be asexual practically every waking moment so I really like our raunchy sex dreams but it's sometimes hard to live with the next day. Hey, can I look at your arm?"
I'm in Scully's sex dreams. Gulp. For some reason I don't want to think about too carefully, the very idea fills me with sheer terror. As well it should, I suppose, if you consider my sexual history with women. The words disaster, fiasco and tragedy come to mind.
"Sure, you can look at my arm."
She scoots over on the floor, in a rather crablike movement. It's cute, really. Is that an oxymoron? Dana Scully cute?
I offer the arm for her inspection. "So which one of our sex dreams is your favorite?"
She grips my arm and begins looking it over. "Huh? Oh, the fisting one but I wish we could get to the end of it." She sighs and continues poking at my arm, her nose very close to the elbow joint.
Fisting? Oh, Christ. I believe I just stopped breathing. And somehow that seems like a good idea. I really want to know just who's fisting who. I surreptitiously take a glance at her forearm. Tiny. I could take that. Just a little bigger than some- What the fuck am I thinking? Damn. I don't want to know who's fisting who in Agent Scully's smut dreams.
Really. I don't want to know.
On the other hand, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to gather some intelligence about Dana Scully. I can't resist.
I inhale awkwardly and find myself coughing. I flex the prosthetic's elbow for her amusement. "So what about your Mulder sex dreams?"
"Oh dear. It's going to be one of those . You want to talk about my sexual repression and bizarre fantasies and why my sexuality manifests itself in the form of Alex fucking Krycek. Fine. Fine. Fine. You are such a pest sometimes." She sits back and releases my arm. "Mulder and sex? How can you put those two in the same sentence? Do you think I'd be dreaming up you if I could get wet over Mulder? Now, Skinner, on the other hand..." She trails off and looks at me speculatively. "Okay. You wanna have the sex talk again, then you're going to have to put out. Oh, and I want to see the stump."
Before I can digest what that all meant she leans forward and locks her lips onto mine.
Kissing a woman is nothing like kissing a man. Her mouth is so soft and small. My tongue practically fills it up.
Um, just when did my tongue end up in Dana Scully's mouth?
Ack! I can't believe I'm in a Consortium cell locking lips with Scully. Who unplugged my brain? And why am I glancing out of the corner of my eye at her forearm?
This is a really bad idea. She tastes like peppermints. My cock is twitching. It knows it shouldn't. Woman equals trouble in Krycek's thesaurus, but...
Hell, my arm is around her shoulders and I can feel her breasts on my chest.
I break the kiss before it's too late, and struggle to refocus my thoughts. I am unable to meet her eyes. "Um, so Mulder's no fun to have sex dreams about because you've actually had sex with him, right?"
"What? No. This is a very strange line of questioning. Why would I so carefully create the asexual Dr. Scully just to go and mess it up by sleeping with my partner? And best friend." She sighs and chews her lower lip. Pulling away, she turns onto her back and rests her head in my lap. She waves her hand theatrically, barely missing my nose. "I'm ready for my examination, Dr. Scully." She idly rubs the side of her head against my crotch. "What's your next question?"
I never really noticed how attractive she is. Sky blue eyes, shining red hair and perfect fair skin. Just the kind of woman I'd go for if I went for women, but I'm not going to. Right? Because it would be a very, very bad idea. I just know that Mulder would kill me. Assuming Scully didn't eliminate me herself.
My fingers are stroking my earlobe rather furiously. I'm scared out of my mind. It's stupid really. She's... what? 105 lbs of woman? I've got at least 70 lbs on her.
Uh, fuck. Focus... "Is Mulder bisexual?" I take a chance and my hand touches her hair. So fucking soft.
She moans and pushes her head closer to my hand and then rubs it firmly against my groin. "Probably. I mean, he and Krycek seem to always be brandishing their erections at each other right after Mulder smacks him around."
Isn't that the truth? I think Mulder doesn't realize he's doing it, but I sure do. Christ, I get hard every time he touches me. How does this woman figure these things out? I hope I'm not that transparent.
"There was this guy a couple of years ago but Mulder always insisted they were just pals. I never really bought it. I have to say, the image of Mulder getting fucked by another man, especially Krycek, is well, really hot."
Yeah, tell me about it, babe.
"It's a good thing he's got that firm moral center or he'd be in real trouble." Scully giggles. Presumably at the absurdity of the last statement. Her hands are at her waist and she suddenly pushes her top up to just below her breasts. She begins to lazily stroke her midriff and traces small circles around her navel.
Her stomach is smooth and white. Not so flat as to be unappealing, with just a hint of roundness. I'm tempted to touch it myself, but I keep my hands in her hair. I'm a lot more likely to get away with that.
I wriggle my fingers through her scalp, watching the shiny red strands tossed back and forth.
As I mindlessly stroke her hair, the obvious suddenly dawns on me. I could do the nasty with Scully right now. She'd let me. Maybe even wants it--wants to finish that dream of hers. Who'd've ever thought that Dana Scully would be hot for me? Wow. It boggles the mind.
What was my train of thought? Oh, yeah, getting the scoop on my favorite G-men. "What about Skinner? You ever do him?"
Her hands travel up under her top and one of them peeks out the neck opening and waves at me. She giggles, passes her hands over her breasts and then resumes stroking her abdomen. Now the bottom half of the right breast is visible.
Nice. I've never understood the male obsession for giant breasts. Must be most guys never get over breast feeding or something. I like 'em small, just a modest handful. Scully's look good. I could so easily slide my fingers up her shirt, but her confession of attraction for me isn't enough to overcome my fear of death.
"Sure. Who wouldn't? I'd be willing to bet the real Krycek gets a hard-on for Skinner."
Yessiree, my dick stands up for Walter Skinner, but our last encounter was less than gratifying. The bondage was nice, but I think that blow to my gut permanently relocated my liver.
"The man has an incredible body but it's kind of hard to get a good fantasy going because he's so distant and withdrawn all time. Who knows the real Skinner?" She looks up at me. "But I guess the same goes for you, huh?" She strokes my jaw and runs her fingers over my mouth. "And me." She wrinkles up her forehead. "But you are me."
Yeah, right, babe. Jesus, she's fucked up. I could probably get her to do anything right now. If I only had a video camera, I'd love to see the look on Mulder's face. Of course, it would be the very last thing I ever saw, but it would almost be worth it.
Before I can tell it not to, my tongue swipes across her fingers. I'm a lot more turned on than I'd care to admit. "So how did you lose your virginity, Dana?"
She rolls her eyes. "We keep coming back to this, don't we? I was sixteen, and my brother's girlfriend was visiting. He was off doing guy-things and left his girlfriend, Katie, and I to hang out. I don't really remember how we got to touching but we had chemistry and the rest is history." She makes a dramatic gesture with her hands and then resumes stroking my face.
Oh, my. The image of a teenaged Scully and another chick is unbelievably hot. My dick responds like Pavlov's dog. Me and every het man (or reasonable facsimile) in America wanted to be there.
Damned if I'm not ogling her forearms again.
I suppose... I could bottom... to her .
What a joke! I've bottomed to every woman I've ever fucked. All three of them. Ever since 85-pound Delilah Sanchez dragged me into her back yard the summer after tenth grade. Shit! What is it with me and women?
This isn't my planned next question, but I can't stop myself. "So, what did you do to her?" Then I do a classic male move. Shifting my hand so slowly as to be imperceptible to the naked (female) eye, I start moving it in the direction of her navel.
"Well, that's a new question. First, I tried the things I had discovered I liked... you know, when masturbating... then she showed me what she liked. How she wanted me to touch her clit, how to move my tongue so it felt right to her, how many fingers to put in her cunt, how many in her ass." She sighs and grabs my hand, placing it on her stomach. "Only one other woman since Katie but it's always such a sensual experience. More focused on subtle pleasure, you know?"
No, I don't suppose I would know but, if Katie were here, I'd be content to watch and learn. With my hand on my cock, of course.
I move my hand lazily across her stomach. Her skin is so warm and smooth.
Women's bodies just don't feel like men's bodies. So damned smooth and soft. Do you have to use creams and shit to get it like that or does it just grow that way?
My hand slides up under her shirt, drawing across one smooth breast. I can't sense the nipple, until I feel it spring up under my fingers. "So, um, what's the kinkiest thing you ever did?"
Fuck, I'm glad she's not asking me these questions. It's just my dumb luck that she's the one on dope and not me. Hate to think of the impact on my already sleazy reputation if she asked me questions like that and I answered them...
She wiggles a little under my hand and sighs, resting her hand on my chest. "Well, I had a boyfriend in college who liked me to tie him up and spank him. Haven't thought about him in years. I think not spanking Mulder is pretty kinky. I want to fist you but we never get all the way to the end." She pouts a little then seems to lose her train of thought. I feel my T-shirt yanked up and her lips and tongue tease my navel.
Well, if you insist, babe.
My fingers rub her other nipple to hardness, then I glide them down to the waistband of her pants. I slip inside and stroke her belly.
She squirms and tries to scoot up so my hand goes lower. She sucks hard on my stomach, biting lightly as she releases the flesh.
Reaching lower, I feel the soft brush of curls and deliberately move past where those fingers most want to go.
I stroke her inner thigh. Every inch of Scully is silky smooth. Just touching her makes me feel a bit lightheaded.
She moves around and gets on her knees, my hand now cupping her butt. Before I can even react she unbuttons my pants and her small hand closes around my cock. She pulls it out and suddenly releases it, staring at it open mouthed.
"What's wrong, Dana?"
She closes her eyes and scrunches up her face, looking like she's concentrating. Opening her eyes again she looks back at my dick. "No. Make it smaller." She starts pressing at it as if she can condense it.
Oh, Christ. Psychotic clone girl, it is. It doesn't hurt but I don't think I want her to go too far down that path.
Of course, I'm used to having everyone complain that my cock is too big.
She stares for a few moments then shrugs her shoulder. "Well, okay." Suddenly her head is in my lap and her lips close around the tip of my dick.
I certainly have a knack for getting myself into utterly absurd... oh, fuck, never mind... that feels so fucking good.
Dana Scully is sucking my cock.
I groan incoherently and my hand squeezes her ass rhythmically. I wish I could reach her clit.
"Fucking good dream, Dana." My fingers trail up her crack, teasing a path to her upper back and sinking into the back of her hair, grasping it tightly.
I resist the urge to fuck her mouth. Dana is not a gay man and it would be unwise to do anything that might upset her while she has essential components of my manliness in her mouth. Those urban legends about lesbians and men's cocks just might be true.
She swings her legs around so they are straddling my thighs--not an easy task for the petite woman--as her tongue and lips journey down my shaft until her chin bumps into my jeans. She blows her breath on the wet underside of my cock as she moves her head back up and takes me down her throat. She's worked about three quarters of my dick into her mouth and I feel a spasm in her throat. She changes the angle and takes a little more. I can't help but wonder where she's putting it. Rising back up, she swipes her tongue across the tip.
She sits up, shaking my hand loose, and looks at me. "You taste different." She thrusts her hand in my hair and pulls my head forward, claiming my mouth and exploring the recesses with her tongue. "Everywhere." She licks her lips. "Better." Her mouth settles on mine again.
Scully kisses very aggressively for a woman. Of course, if a woman wasn't aggressive, the chances of her having sex with me are about nil.
I need to feel flesh. I pull her forward so she's sitting on my chest. My hand grabs at her shirt until I manage to get it off without too much interruption of our frenzied mouth-to-mouth contact. Casting the shirt aside, I reach for her pants. "Let's get these clothes out of the way, Dana."
Christ, if that door opens now and they toss in Mulder, I'm going to be pissed. Dead and pissed. Unless he's been having dreams about me, too. What a lovely thought.
She stands up and shucks her pants, standing before me naked, holding out her hand. Her pubic hair is the most beautiful copper colored thatch. My jaw is hanging open. A natural redhead then.
I rise and she pushes up my shirt. As I pull it over my head, her mouth clamps on my nipple, sucking and rolling it with her tongue. Her hands find my jeans and start pushing them down. When they reach my ankles, I sit on the bed to unzip my boots and yank off the jeans.
Dana's watching me. I see her eyes flick to my left arm and there's a question on her face.
"I wanna see." Her voice is kind of breathy and girlish.
"Oh, hell," I mutter, shaking my head. "It's not pretty and, if I don't wear it, I'm going to be very clumsy."
"Oh, come on, Alex! I wanna see! Please... you can put it back on if you want." She's almost bouncing on her heels. Her breasts bobbing in an almost hypnotic way...
Emitting a heavy sigh, I reach for the straps to remove the damned thing.
I've got to make sure I get it back on right, with the pads in exactly the right places. Once I was careless and when I went to bend the elbow the outer two fingers gripped and I shattered a glass in the prosthetic hand.
I slide the straps off and remove the prosthetic, revealing the stump of my arm, which rather looks like I stuck it in a garbage disposal. I'm not ashamed, but I also get tired of seeing the same looks on people's faces when they see it. Pity. Revulsion. Imagined pain.
From Scully, I get fascination. "Oooh." She reaches out to touch it, lightly trailing her fingers along the scars. She moves in real close and stares at it, twisting herself into a strange position so she can look up at the stump. Following her fingers, she runs her nose and then her cheek along the scar tissue. "Hmm..."
Well, that's new. I'm frozen like a statue, feeling vaguely embarrassed.
Her mouth and tongue follow the same path. She pulls back, still tracing her fingers up to the shoulder and back down, looking puzzled again.
I eye her uneasily. "Now what?"
"I just don't understand it. I can't think of any reason why I'd manifest myself without an arm, so I must be wishing it on Krycek. But why would I do that? It's very curious." She looks like she's going to pursue the thought, but her face relaxes and she pulls me down for a kiss.
Kissing is a little more in my sexual repertoire than having a nose rubbed on my stump. I wrap my arm around her waist and battle for the right to enter her mouth. I lose and our tongues tangle happily in my mouth. Her tongue feels about half the size of mine--and, of course, it's incredibly soft, like the rest of Dana Scully's body.
Also quite happily, my erection is trapped between our bodies, leaving a line of pre-cum under her breasts. She doesn't seem to mind. Pulling her mouth away, she leaves a trail of kisses up the side of my face, pulling my head down so she can lick my ear. Turning my head to the side, I suck on her neck and get the strongest reaction from her yet. She gasps and her whole body jerks. She writhes and moans as I continue my attentions on her neck.
Struggling for breath, her voice is raspy. "Oh yeah, Alex, you know I like that." Suddenly she pushes at my shoulders and steps out of my embrace. Mustering a stern expression, she points at the mattress. "On the bed." And ruins the effect by following up with a giggle.
She's quite a bossy little thing. I imagine her dressed like a cliché of a dominatrix. And giggling like a four year old. Who is this woman, really?
I nod my compliance, but reach for the prosthetic first. She waits patiently, watching my every move, as I strap it on and adjust the pads around my shoulder. I quickly run it through a few test motions to make sure I got it right. Elbow bends. Wrist flexes. Thumb grips. Middle fingers grip. Smaller fingers grip. She stares in fascination through the whole exercise.
Sometimes this is a fucking lot of work.
As long as I don't try to grasp any tender body parts that can't be replaced we should be fine.
Then, like a good boy, I hop on the bed. I lay on my left side, holding my arm out to her. She practically pounces on me. Pushing me onto my back, she straddles my waist and begins to stroke my chest. Her cunt and upper thighs are slippery on my skin. The woman is definitely turned on. "I wish my brain would come up with some nicer surroundings." She leans her head down to the right of mine and sniffs the mattress. "Something that smells better." She sighs through a pouty expression.
Something about that adorable pout makes me want to take her some place really nice. But, alas, I'm ill prepared to do that right now.
Her expression clears and she resumes her attack on my body. Her fingers find my nipples and pinch both lightly. She leans down to lick one, then the other, before lying on my chest, head nestled beneath my chin.
Those fingers tease my lips and I suck two in my mouth. She moans and wriggles her body against mine. "I'm not passionless, right? Or cold?"
I try to suppress a chuckle. "Um, no, Dana. You're passionate and sexy and a hell of a lot of fun." I slip from her grasp and roll onto my side for another kiss.
Her fingers find my hair and hold on. My tongue explores her mouth. Then I tug free--not without some painful loss of hair--and slide further down the bed. As my face passes her belly, I catch a scent that goes instantly to my head like the finest dope. I simply have to have a taste.
I kiss my way downward from her navel. Her body presses closer and her fingers tangle loosely in my hair. I rub my face all over her red curls, which are--not surprisingly--soft. It's a wonderful tickle on my cheeks. "Alex..." Her voice hitches and her legs flail a bit. And that fantastic smell is doing just what it's designed to do. Melt the man and crank his lust up to the boiling point. I'm definitely melted and cranked.
Braced on my fake arm, I slide my fingers up her thigh and lower my face to her clit. She's very wet. My hand brushes her thigh languidly as I take my first lick. Sweet. The taste is almost floral... so damned sweet. A deep groan fills the room. That would be me.
Her gasp follows my groan, her body becomes rigid, then relaxes into my touch. "This is much better... so much better. I'll have to eat pizza more often."
She's a total loon, but when presented with the entirely baffling collection of women's body parts it is reassuring to hear that I'm doing something right.
My cock responds to her enthusiasm. I have to stop myself from humping her leg. I nudge her over onto her back, so I can get better access. Then I pull open her labia and make a sloppy tongue assault on her cunt. I probe inside her and then return my attention to her clit.
Her body arches toward my mouth and this time it's her moan that echoes off the walls. She pulls one leg toward her chest, dropping the other open on the bed. I glance up at her in time to see her gnawing and sucking her own knee.
Separating her mouth from her limb, she looks at me. Her face is flushed and her eyes are unfocused. "Oh no, Alex, don't stop." Voice husky with desire.
Nice that. For a moment I feel almost in control of this bizarre encounter.
With no small amount of my own enthusiasm, I return my mouth to her clit. Experimenting, I establish that aggressive tongue action under the hood of her clit makes her pull away slightly. But tonguing circles around it makes her sigh. And lapping vertically across it makes her legs go rigid. Penetration with my tongue seems to calm her down. No point in that then.
My lips fit so nicely around her clit. It's a delicious thing to nibble.
I hear a strangled scream as her hips jerk away and then press toward my mouth. As if she can't decide whether she wants more or less. Good and bad then. I try it again. This time her pelvis surges forward and then retreats as she whimpers. She loses control of one leg and it bangs against my shoulder. "No... uh... yes. Oh fucking hell..."
She really should just wrap those legs around my head. I'd ask her to, but then I'd have to stop what I'm doing for a lot longer than I care to.
Increasing the pace a bit, I lick her clit up and down and then return to the nibble. Anything that makes her go berserk like that has got to be a win. Plus it feels so damned good between my lips.
This is the most fun I've had in weeks. It dawns on my dim little pheromone-addled brain that this evening's pleasure will come at some horrific cost that will only become apparent later. But I can't bring myself to care, and my body is way past the point at which I could make a more prudent choice.
A constant stream of gasps, whimpers and moans are coming from her as she flails around under my tongue. I feel her legs start to tremble as both of them settle on my shoulders. I glance up. Her head is turned to the side as she breathes through her open mouth. Her body is covered with a fine sheen of sweat, her hands gripping the mattress above her head.
Her toes suddenly dig hard into my flanks and then those trembling legs finally wrap around my head as she screams and her body begins jerking spasmodically.
A sobbing kind of pant follows as her body begins to relax and she attempts to retreat from my tongue. I look up at her. Her chest and face are flushed and her nipples have become rock hard.
Scully looks quite beautiful sprawled out before me in her post-orgasmic haze. I can only hope the drug cocktail she's on has a long half-life, so I don't suddenly find myself with the real Dana Scully and discover too soon how short my own life will be.
I ease out of her grasp and press one finger right on her clit.
She gasps and her hand reaches for mine. When I don't move the finger, she allows it to remain.
Delilah taught me this. It was mandatory to put pressure on her clit afterwards to get that last little bit of pleasure out of the fleeting orgasm. Of course, women can have twelve more, so I never really got the point, but I thought it was worth a try.
I flash a coy smile down at her.
There's just no polite way to say, "You didn't forget about my dick, did you?" I know I didn't. While she's enjoying the post-orgasm stupor, my cock is the only thing on my mind. I cast another lustful glance at her forearms. Her delicate hands are quite beautiful, too. Well why not?
"Did you enjoy that, Dana?"
C'mon babe. Tell me what I stud I was, so I can prop up my flimsy male ego and forget about pleasing you for a while, so I can get what I need.
"Yes, yes, yes." She pulls me down and opens her mouth for my tongue. After several long moments, she turns her head to the side gasping for breath. My mouth finds her neck and she responds instantly.
Such a delightfully sexy woman. Surely this cannot really be Dana Scully. I want to play with her forever. Would our captors get upset if they returned to find us unwilling to depart?
She makes several abortive attempts at speech but finally manages a breathy and halting request. "I want to fuck, Alex. But I want to do it my way. Do you care? Will you let me?"
She wants to fuck "her way." Is this just another bad idea nested inside of the original bad idea? What further bizarreness could come bursting out of her repressed subconscious? Do I even want to know?
But it's simple really. My cock is hard and I want her to do something about it.
"Well, I suppose... within reason." I'm certain that my dubious expression is not radiating masculine confidence, but I'm feeling cautious.
I loom over her for another kiss. She must also enjoy the taste of herself, because her kisses are even more fervent.
She pushes at my shoulder to get me to roll over on my back, maintaining the contact of our mouths as she straddles my chest again. She's wetter now and her upper thighs are slippery. Breaking the kiss, she slides down my body, kissing and licking her way down my chest--either unaware or uncaring that she's licking her fluid off my body.
Her mouth settles on my cock and she swallows me all the way.
She's unexpectedly good at sucking cock. Too good. My mission, should I decide not to humiliate myself, is to keep from coming in the next 20 seconds.
She caresses the length of my shaft with her mouth a few times before pulling off to suck my balls, one at a time, into her mouth. She laps at them gently for a few moments, one hand lightly squeezing whichever one is not in her mouth or under her tongue.
My hips start to writhe. I've been turned on for a long time. Too long.
With a light kiss on the head of my dick, she positions her hips above mine and slowly sinks onto my cock.
"Oh, god, Dana..." I meant to say something, but I have no idea what. My fingers stroke the side of her face. "So good."
Her cunt stretches to accept me and she's so wet the penetration just forces more fluid out of her body. She groans when I'm fully inside her and she begins a slow rhythm for a few short moments before pulling off and inching forward.
"What? Don't..." I stammer.
Ignoring my feeble complaint, she reaches between her legs and positions my cock at her ass and, before I can grasp her intention, she presses down until my cock head is lodged in her anus. She gasps and throws her head back as she begins an even slower descent.
Oh, Christ. I love anal intercourse this way. I don't have to do anything, just get my cock squeezed fantastically by her tight ass. Damn. I didn't know women even liked this stuff.
What did I ever do to deserve this from Dana Scully? Maybe I'm the one who's dreaming here.
My hips rise to meet her ass. With only moderate success, I struggle not to buck into her. I could so easily knock her across the room and, more importantly, off of my cock.
Belatedly, it occurs to me that I might do something for her. My hand glides down the center of her chest, across her belly and locates her clit. I stroke it gently with my thumb. She groans and grabs my hand. I think she means to pull it away but she presses two fingers over my thumb to guide me in the motion she wants. Her hips pick up a faster rhythm, my cock sliding smoothly in her ass. Her free hand moves between my chest and her thigh, bracing her weight. Her sounds are more guttural and feral this time and I fight the urge to come as her fingers tell me to pick up speed on her clit.
I feel the telltale trembling in her thighs. Her hair is stuck to her face and neck. Her hand clenches on my chest, biting into the muscle as her body becomes rigid. She thrusts down hard on my cock as her ass begins to spasm with her orgasm. She stops breathing as her body writhes uncontrollably.
Some man in the room makes an embarrassingly animal grunting sound. Rather like a moose in distress.
I fall apart completely, thrusting into her, my brain passing into a liquid state. Surely insanity will follow. I think my hand is still in the vicinity of her clit, but I don't much care, because my own body is disintegrating and the only signals working in my brain are pleasure.
The truly grand thing about having someone sit on your dick is that after you come, you don't even have to collapse.
I have no idea how much time passes. When I'm capable of rational thought again, I find Dana sprawled on my chest, her hand idly stoking my hair. "Thanks for sticking with me on that, Krycek."
The sound of her calling me Krycek again makes my whole body tense.
As she turns I get a glimpse of her lovely backside: a curvy ass with a circular tattoo just below her waist. It's a snake eating its tail. Agent Scully is just filled with delightful surprises.
She rolls off me, stands and begins pulling on her medical issue clothing.
Now that my baser needs have been addressed, my mind immediately begins to consider unpleasant topics. Such as, what Dana Scully is going to do to me after the drugs wear off and she realizes that I have taken advantage of her altered state. If that isn't enough for her to justify my immediate castration, surely she'll kill me to guarantee that never can I speak of the juicy details regarding her sex life and dreams.
Suddenly, my need to escape this awful cell seems very immediate.
Unwilling to meet her eyes, I locate and tug on my 501's. Fresh socks would be nice, but I manage with the dirty ones. I grab my T-shirt and slip silently to the floor to investigate the crack in the door. Those same boots are still on duty.
With a sigh, I lean against the door.
If that crack was a little wider, I just know I could crawl right through it. And be shot by the guard. But at least I'd die with my genitals intact.
The boots don't move. C'mon, you gotta pee sometime, buddy.
I glance at her forearms longingly.
I hear a short, surprised laugh. "When these drugs wear off completely and I have to wrap my brain around what happened here, I'm probably not going to be very happy. But I'm pretty sure you can have that whenever you're ready for it."
Jesus fucking Christ! Is she saying that she'd fuck me if she wasn't on drugs? Gotta be I misunderstood... or it's a trick or something.
Too late, I attempt damage control of my face. She must have seen my astonishment.
She's looking at me but her face is expressionless. Suddenly, she closes her eyes and her brow furrows as she takes a deep breath. Turning around she sits heavily on the bed, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. "You can stop looking at me like that. I'm not going to kill you. At least not today."
Flashing me a speculative look, she continues. "Do you know why you're here? Why we're in the same cell? Where we are, for that matter?"
I'm not very comfortable with the new, adult Scully, but we need to cooperate to get out of here. "We're at a Consortium facility outside Baltimore." I take another look through the crack before I turn around and face her. "I don't know why you're here. Although since they drugged you to the gills, it's an easy guess that they wanted you to tell them something. As for why we're in this lovely cell together, that's probably someone's sick sense of humor."
"Krycek, I know why I'm here. Mulder. The question is why are you here?"
Sorry, Agent Scully. Information flows one way as far as I'm concerned.
"Probably the same thing... information... but I haven't been interrogated, so who knows?" Careful to keep my tone light, I inquire, "So what did they want from you?"
"Mulder!" She jumps off the bed and starts pacing. "'Scully, it's me. I have some information I need to follow-up on but I can't tell you anything about it. You're better off if you don't know anything. Don't want you to worry, though. I'll see you soon.'" She finishes parroting a message from Mulder and screeches to a halt in the middle of the cell. "Oh, Mulder, you selfish pain in the butt. I'm gonna kick your ass when you turn up."
It's not difficult to believe that Mulder's at the core of this. No wonder they haven't fucked. She's probably already castrated him.
She drops her head in her hands. "And the absurd thing is they won't believe I don't know anything." She groans. "He's obviously in way over his head on something." She flashes me a suspicious look and stalks over to me. "Do you know anything, Krycek?" Her finger is poking my chest. "Do you know what he's up to? If he's safe?"
"Whoa, Scully!" I hold up my arms in a surrender gesture. "I haven't seen Mulder since Tunguska. I don't know where he is. Or what sort of trouble he's stirred up. Honest." It's the truth.
I squat down to check my crack again.
I turn around to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, head resting in her hands.
She remains silent, her fingers drumming on her forehead. At last she gives an exasperated sigh, looks up and focuses an intense gaze on me. Gotta be her PMS face.
I'm a dead man.
"I do remember everything that happened." Her blue eyes are unwavering.
A scuff mark on my prosthetic thumb is suddenly very intriguing. "I suppose you think I'm a total louse for taking advantage..."
"Not for taking advantage." Her disparaging tone confirms that she does think I'm a louse. "Like I said, I do remember everything. You were rather opportunistic with your voyeuristic questions, but I think that's a guy-testosterone kind of thing rather than a rat bastard trait. Of course, I don't have high expectations for your behavior, but I think it's fairly clear that I jumped you. I don't feel guilty about it or blame you for having a response. We both know that, if in control of my faculties, I would not have chosen to have sex with you. Regardless of how appealing your pheromones are. However, I'm not prepared to spend countless hours regretting a satisfying sexual encounter. Life is too fucking short." Her voice is completely steady, eyes intently focused on me.
Well, I am a fine lover. Hot stuff, Krycek. Two out of four women said so. I've lost count of the men, but I'm pretty sure I'm batting better than 500 with the boys.
I'm impressed by her generosity. Too kind of her to acknowledge my pheromones and admit that the encounter was pleasurable. I am also awed by her dignity. It appears that she can tough her way through any situation--no matter how potentially humiliating. I'm sure if the tables were turned, I'd be hiding under the toilet. She's fucking amazing.
"Now, that's what I have to say to the opportunistic male and surprisingly considerate sex partner--because you do seem to be several people, Krycek. But I have something to say to the rat bastard I'm more familiar with. I would be... perturbed if some of the, umm, information you obtained were to be repeated. I want to know if you plan to try and embarrass me or use any of this against me."
Would that I could find some clever but nefarious way to use this fascinating information. We both know that I'm quite capable of it.
I raise an eyebrow toward her. "Well, Dana, I hate to admit this but I neglected to record our special time together. And it's not like anyone is going to believe what I have to say about cunnilingus with Katie, spanking your boyfriend or you sitting on my cock ass-first."
Underneath my smart-ass patois, I realize that I genuinely want to reassure her. It wigs me out. I hate to think I'm getting soft or something.
Her expression doesn't change but her voice is a little harder when she replies. "Oh good. I see we can add 'testy four year old' to your list of personalities. And don't think I didn't notice that you evaded the question. Why is that, Krycek?"
She's too damned perceptive. 'Testy four year old' is my core personality. Everything else is an act.
What does she want from me anyway? My word that I won't use the information? I don't fucking get it.
"Frankly, Scully, I was a little afraid of ridicule if I said something direct such as 'No, I won't try to use it against you.' If you're looking for me to make a promise here, you'd better think about how highly you value my word." I am a little fucking testy. I hate having to be the one to remind people of my dubious sincerity.
She gets up and moves to stand in front of me. "I am Fox Mulder's partner. I have years of experience with people being evasive. I'm perfectly aware of your character--at least as much of it as I've seen--but if you don't give me your word, you won't be breaking your word. And that's what I want. If Mulder ever shows up at my door asking if I really prefer anal sex, I want to be able to be mad at you for breaking your word. As it stands now, all I will have is feeling foolish because my brain likes to make my sexuality look like you."
Shit, the woman is fucking intense. She may be Mulder's partner, but she is completely unlike him. It appears that my low-life word actually matters to her. She's treating me like a human being here and I haven't a clue how to cope with it.
She sits back on the bed and rubs her hands against her eyes. "God, my head hurts." She looks back at me, snapping, "And the only person doing any ridiculing in this room has been you. I told you I won't blame you, so let it go."
I can't for the life of me figure out what I'm supposed to say now. I squat on the floor again, stalling, peering through the door crack. And then I rise and make myself look at her. "I'm sorry. I won't try to use it against you."
I had intended to protect myself with another lie, but as the words came out, I realized that I want it to be true. Clinging to a tiny piece of self respect, I guess... Pitiful.
She arches a delicate brow and tersely replies, "Thank you, Alex."
I want to kiss her, to let her know that I'm not just some jerk who wanted a hole to put his dick in. Or maybe rub her neck, but I can't bring myself to do it. Instead, I just gaze at her dolefully.
For some reason my mind flashes to Melissa Scully lying dying on the floor of Dana's apartment. I am such a piece of work.
"I don't mean to be an asshole. It... uh, just... Well, I..." Well, now that we've cleared that up. Dumbass.
I grimace and shrug my shoulders. I squat back down and stare through the crack. I think I'll just stay here a while.
"Krycek, get off the floor. Would you kindly enlighten me as to your mental state? I've seen Mulder smack you around and you can still manage to conjugate three coherent sentences afterward."
Gaping up at her from the floor, I bite back my desire to reply, 'Huh?' What does she want from me? I'm starting to long for those beatings that Mulder gave me.
I'm tempted to confess that she's thrown me for a loop because I can count the number of women I've slept with on my fingers. My fingers. The count would be four as of about an hour ago. But there's not much point in confiding in her. I am such a fucking idiot.
I don't get off the floor, but I do relinquish my crack enough to turn toward her. "My mental state? Well, actually, I'm a bit baffled. I hardly expected that black lunged son of a bitch to help me get laid. And even if I had divined that bit of whimsy, you're the last person I expected to find attracted to me." My fingers are tweaking my earlobe again. "And don't take this the wrong way, but you're also almost the last person I expected to find myself attracted to."
God, I hope that's enough true confessions to keep her happy. What is it with women wanting to talk about your feelings? It makes me feel so damned inadequate.
What she said finally sinks in and I have to ask myself why am I having such a hard time stringing together a few words. Why the fuck am I even trying to level with her in the first place? I must be the one on drugs.
She scoots back on the bed to lean against the wall and pull her feet up to rest on the mattress. "I doubt our cigarette smoking host thought--even in his wildest dreams--that placing me in a cell with you would result in anything resembling sex. I'm sure he expects at least one of us..." She looks pointedly at me. "... to come out of here the worse for wear."
Why is it so fucking obvious that if we scuffle, I'm the one who's going to be dead meat? It may be true, but it casts unpleasant aspersions on my manliness.
Scully continues, "As for me finding you attractive, well, I gave up on trying to comprehend that a long time ago, so I doubt you'll find any revelations on that score." Her tone is somewhat testy.
She closes her eyes, lightly tapping her lower lip with her index finger. "I'm not likely to take anything the wrong way. And I am probably more surprised about it than you are. I have become accustomed to people not finding me sexually attractive. And I believe I already mentioned I observed your tastes run to tall, dark-haired, hazel-eyed, slightly neurotic men with a propensity for ditching their partner."
I suppress a growl. Coming out to Scully was a definite non-goal.
And what's this about slightly neurotic? She's very generous with Mulder, even though the man can outdo me at the 'testy four year old' act any day of the year.
The response headed for my face is chagrin, but I manage to short circuit that in favor of my multipurpose blank look. It's time to get the hell out of here.
I run my thumb up the groove in the forearm of my prosthetic, popping open the battery compartment. After prying out the two extremely heavy lithium batteries--an act that makes the prosthetic freeze--I remove the two items cached underneath the battery compartment. My lock-pick set and a small knife. I reinsert the batteries and close the panel.
She looks a little surprised. "How handy."
If we're going to get out of here, both of us need to be armed. It unnerves me to even think about giving her my knife. I can only hope it won't come in contact with any of my favorite body parts.
I open the knife and hold it out to her. "It's not much of a weapon, but it's better than none."
Scooting off the bed, she reaches out and accepts the knife. "Mmm. Thanks. What happened to your arm, Krycek?" Her tone and expression rival me for neutrality.
I check the crack again, before I even think about answering. "Tunguska. Mulder. Major fuck-up. Someone thought they were doing me a favor."
She's quiet for several moments as if trying to digest what it all means. "How many surgeries did you have before you could use a functional prosthesis?"
"Three," I reply reluctantly. "You know this was a lot more fun when we were chatting about your sex life." Maybe I do mean to be an asshole.
She doesn't rise to the bait. I'm surprised to hear her chuckle. "Well, there's not much of my sex life left to discuss. How much phantom pain do you have?"
Well, I thought we were pretty hot together, but maybe banging what you think is a dream image of an assassin when you're held captive and stoned out of your mind doesn't count.
I shrug, a gesture that hasn't felt right since Tunguska. It's lopsided and, if I'm not careful, the two smaller fingers on the prosthetic twitch with the movement. "Some."
She chews her lip for a second. "I did a rotation in med school working with amputees. There is some particularly heavy scar tissue on the inside of your stump that is likely to put pressure on major nerves--possibly contributing to excessive phantom pain. Your doctors should have cleaned it up better. Uh, another minor surgery with a good doctor could help if followed by several weeks of rigorous muscle therapy."
I suppose this is kindness, but I hate talking about my arm and the thought of another surgery is unbearable.
"Yeah, I guess that's good to know." I check the crack again. "Um, thanks."
Thankfully, she's content to drop it there. "Well, we make an unlikely pair of collaborators, but I'd really like to get out of here before they decide to try a more practical drug on me. Any ideas?"
"Yeah. I'm just waiting for the guard to take a leak. Otherwise, the first one of us out this door is probably going to get shot." I peer through the crack again. "When the fucker finally responds to the call of nature, I'm going to use my picks. Once outside, I'll go for the guard and you search the outer room for other personnel, weapons, my leather jacket and anything you were carrying that you want back. Okay?"
"Fine. But you apparently know what's outside that door and I don't. Care to fill me in on what I'll be facing?"
"It's an open room, about three or four times the size of this one. The exit's on the right. The bathroom's on the left. There's a desk about 12 feet in front of this door." I stand away from the door. "Take a look through the crack, you can see the guard's shoes and the lower metal legs of the desk."
She kneels on the floor and angles her head down. "Hmm... Oh my." She jumps away from the door and points at the crack. "Boots! Left!"
"Shit, get out of the way!"
She stands up and plasters herself against the wall.
The pick is already in my fingers. I drop onto my knees and ease it into the lock.
I've always done this one-handed, with my right hand, but I've never been quite as adept at it since I lost my arm. It makes no sense.
It takes a minute before I can feel the tumblers. I hope he takes his time in the head. I open the door as quickly as I can and still keep it quiet. I peer around the edge and the guard is not visible. That's a fucking relief.
Bolting through the door, I plant myself outside the restroom, pressed flat along the wall. The door opens out, so I have something to hide behind. I can hear him pissing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Scully quickly and methodically covering the room, keeping watch on the exit door. She already has my jacket draped over her arm.
The toilet flushes and the door starts to open. Bastard didn't wash his hands. My left arm is ready as he steps into view. The plastic fingers close around his throat. He starts to flail, but I get in one quick squeeze and a sickening crunch tells me that his neck is crushed.
As his face turns grim and goes flat, I recognize him.
I fucked him once. He wasn't very good.
I squat over the corpse and relieve him of his key ring and his weapon--a Walther--usable, but not one of my favorites. I check the clip.
Scully is suddenly at my shoulder, her expression blank. She holds out a Glock--not mine--and shoves an extra clip in the pocket of my jeans. "Switch with me."
What the fuck? We don't have time to discuss this, so I have to do it and trust her. Or not. I go with my gut feelings.
I take the Glock and pass her the Walther.
"Our stuff is by the door. Let's go."
At the exit, I stop, look and listen. It's dark outside, but the labs upstairs will have some personnel at night. I ease the door open and step out. A quick glance back tells me that Scully is behind me, the Walther at the ready.
I discover that I trust her to back me up. Mulder's a lucky man.
The parking lot is not well lit, but I can see about 30 cars. Discarding the key ring on the grass, I whisper to Scully. "I'll hotwire some transportation. See anything you like?"
"Yeah. That red, convertible XJ16. Gotta wonder who's driving that thing. But it's probably got an alarm. I'd go for that Ford F350 over there in case we have to drive though anything."
The woman likes them big. It's in an especially dark corner of the lot.
"The Ford then." We creep along the edge of the building to avoid being seen from the windows above. I lead the way from the building to the truck, walking awkwardly in a half crouch trying to avoid casting any large shadows.
As we near the truck, two cars come up the main driveway. I dart behind the truck and Scully's right behind me. We squat without moving as the two park closer than I'd like. Damned if they don't exit their cars and stop to have a chat about fifteen feet from us. I can't make out the words. One of them--a suit--looks vaguely familiar. The other's a scientist, I think.
Getting into the truck could be a problem. I'll break a window if I have to, but that will make a lot of noise. That rear sliding window looked flimsy. I'll try that first.
Scully's huddled so close to me that I can smell her. Nice. Ever the professional, she doesn't move and her breathing is slow. The slender finger on the Walther doesn't even twitch.
Finally, I hear, "Okay, Robert. But I want to see the complete results first thing in the morning. So don't..." I lose the audio again, but the fuckers start walking to the building. I tuck the Glock in the waistband of my pants, giving Scully a meaningful glance to make sure she understands that she's the point man now.
"Scully, my knife?"
She passes me the knife and I open the blade. I crawl into the bed of the truck and move to the front.
Crouched down as low as possible, I begin to cut away the rubber seal of the window. Nature's corrosion has assisted me with the task. I quickly scrape a hole in the rubber and pry the window loose. Using my fake arm, I get two fingers under it and force it to the right. It groans, but not too loudly, I hope.
Sticking my arm through, I reach and open the driver's side lock.
I regret losing the opportunity to watch Scully wriggle her pretty ass through the window, but we've saved precious time.
I hear Scully hiss. "Krycek, down!" I flatten myself in the truck bed and wait. After a few seconds I hear a car start and leave, followed by several more seconds of silence.
Jumping to the ground, I see that Scully's already opened the driver's door. I squat underneath the steering wheel.
Even in a truck this size, I've always been too big to do this comfortably, but I'm certain to be more adept at car theft than the diminutive Scully.
Twisting myself into a neck-wrenching position, I find the ignition wire and cut it open. After no small amount of fumbling, the engine turns over. It's way too loud, the owner obviously stinting on routine maintenance.
I scoot out of the way and gesture for Scully to enter the cab. Keeping low, she quickly crawls into the cab of the truck. Her shirt rises up and I get another quick glimpse of her tattoo.
I slip in after her, close the door and gun the engine. I turn on the lights with great trepidation, but a truck leaving with the lights off seems more likely to be noticed.
Soon, we're headed down the main driveway toward a small guard shack. I can make out a head in a uniform cap. Manned at night. Of course.
I retrieve the Glock from my pants and hold it under the line of sight pointed outward. Scully's already done the same with her weapon. With my right hand on the gun, I have to drive in first gear all the way to the shack.
It appears to only open on the entrance side. As I approach the exit, the arm lifts automatically. We slide through unimpeded. The guard glances up, but doesn't seem alarmed in any way.
I slide the safety on my weapon and hold it between my legs. Increasing speed very gradually, I make my way onto the service road and navigate toward the highway.
"Thanks, Krycek." Scully is looking out the rear window but her expression is blank.
"Sure," I mumble, not knowing what else to say.
Gotta love this woman. Not one complaint about my killing the guard. I could really work with her. If we were on the same side, anyway.
There's a soft drink can in a cup holder on the dashboard. I pick it up and discover it's half full with warm Mountain Dew. I almost reconsider, but I'm very thirsty. I peer inside, cautiously looking for cigarette butts, but it looks clean. It smells okay. I take a drink. Yuck. But it wets my mouth at least. I hold it out for Scully.
She shakes her head. "I hate Mountain Dew. Judging by the expression on your face, you don't like it either."
"There's a chocolate bar in my jacket. Or there was anyway."
"Interior or exterior pocket?"
She fishes around for a second and finds the chocolate bar. As she pulls it out, a condom falls on the seat. Without pausing, she picks it up and sticks it back in the pocket, muttering something that sounds like, "Never there when you need it."
She sets the jacket next to me and opens the bar of Valrhona. Breaking off a piece, she scoots over and holds it up to my mouth.
I open my mouth and allow my lips to brush her fingertips as she inserts the dark chocolate square inside. The feel of her soft skin makes my cock twitch. The rich chocolate flavor overwhelms the lingering taste of Dana's cunt.
She could suck my cock while I drive, but I am not going to take my so recently rescued life into my hands and ask.
Staying in the middle of the seat, she breaks off a piece and places it in her mouth. "Oh."
I glance at her. "What?"
She looks at me and her expression reminds me of how she looks during sex. "This is really good. I've never had it before."
I know my chocolate, babe.
I'd like to taste her mouth again, but somehow I doubt that she's going to invite me in when we get to her place.
I smile and keep driving. "Can I have another piece?"
Another chunk nudges at my lower lip.
She stays next to me for several moments to feed me but only eats two small pieces herself. Eventually, I tell her I've had enough, and she wraps it up before placing it back in my pocket. She slips back over to the other side of the seat and rests the Walther in her lap.
She stares out the window in silence for a long time before sighing. "Will you drop me in Crystal City?"
What the fuck? "I'd planned on taking you home."
She lied about Skinner. She's fucking him. Shit, I'm about to act out like a jealous boyfriend. Chill out, Krycek. Her sick mother probably lives in Crystal City or something.
She shakes her head. "No. Mulder's obviously involved in something serious if someone is willing to abduct me just on the chance that I know something about it. I need to talk to Skinner."
The memory of my last visit at chez Skinner calls out to me like a beacon to my stupidity. I am not going there again.
I don't bother to conceal my frown. "Fine. How about I drive to Union Station and you can take the car from there?"
She looks a little surprised. "Why? Something worrying you?"
I roll my eyes. "Well, Walt's not exactly my best pal."
"Ah." She looks amused. "I wasn't going to ask you to come with me, Krycek."
"I'm going to have to ditch the truck anyway."
"Umm... and your point would be?"
I'm not fucking going anywhere near Skinner's condo. It could be a trick of some kind. And as soon as Scully's out of my sight the truck will be worse than useless.
I wonder if I still have any money.
"What I said. I will drive to Union Station and I will leave you the truck." I take another sip of leftover Mountain Dew. "Scully, would you pass me my wallet? Inside right hand pocket."
She retrieves the wallet but looks at me questioningly. "How are you going to drive and handle the wallet?"
"Oh, please." Irked, I steer the truck with my knee and take the wallet from her. I make a big deal of using both hands to open it and examine the contents. My ID is there, but Brian Hanson might as well be dead. I've still got the $220 I had this morning. I suppose I didn't pay for my breakfast. I can live with the guilt.
She gives a weary sigh. "Krycek, there's one little problem with your plan to leave me the truck. This is the largest truck Ford makes. I'm not sure I can reach the pedals without mashing my body into the steering wheel."
I suppress a laugh. It never fucking occurred to me, always having had the opposite problem of where to stick my damned legs. With a sigh, I reply, "Here." I pass her three tens. "I'll drop you off in front of one of the Crystal City hotels. You can take a cab to Walt's."
"Jesus. And I thought Mulder was paranoid. I suppose you think Skinner arranged to have me kidnapped so you could rescue me, so I could lure you to his street where he has an entire SWAT team waiting to arrest you." She breaks off and stares out the window muttering to herself. "Fucking lovely. I have nothing on but virtual pajamas, no shoes, no ID, no place to put the money except in my hand and I know I smell like sex. And he wants to drop me off in front of a hotel. What a perfect end to this wonderful day."
No one can make me feel like a heel like a woman, and Dana Scully is a master. Christ, I suppose that once I fucked her, it became my responsibility to see her home safely to her door. Or even worse--A.D. Skinner's door.
"Don't have a seizure, Scully. I'm clueless here. But, now that you mention it, it makes all the sense in the world to risk my life so you don't have to take a cab while barefooted and smelly." The look she flashes me could freeze water at 50 paces. I take a deep breath to calm down a bit. "You know, I think we're both a bit cranky right now. Maybe we could... um... just cut each other a little slack?"
She takes a deep breath and nods her head. "I guess it doesn't matter where you leave me. I'm just feeling a little, uh, unprepared for any problems that might arise."
After a heavy sigh, I give in. "Fuck it. I'll take you to Skinner's. Just ... um, feel free not to mention my name... I mean, could you give me at least a half an hour to ditch the truck before you send anyone after me?"
Her voice is quiet. "Krycek, I'm not going to send anyone after you. I can't not tell Skinner that you were there but I certainly plan to leave out most of the details of our time together." She frowns a little. "From my perspective, I kind of owe you right now and I do not think setting the FBI on you is, well... never mind."
I'm stunned. Scully's been more than fair with me. I wonder why. It's impossible to fathom. It's unnerving how well she understands me and how little I can return the favor.
We don't speak at all for the rest of the drive, but it's a comfortable silence. After driving through D.C., I exit the expressway and start winding the car through the streets of Crystal City. I pull over across the street from Skinner's condo and keep the engine running. No sign of Walt or anyone who looks like one of his boys.
I turn to her, almost not wanting her to go. I haven't a clue what to say.
She glances at me for a second and then opens the door, hopping to the pavement. She looks a little uncomfortable. "I... well, thanks again, Krycek." She stares at the Walther, as if trying to decide what to do with it. She slips it in her waistband, pulling her top down, but has to keep her hand over it to keep it from slipping. It creates a very obvious lump.
Scully starts to step back and shut the door, but pauses. "The offer stands."
She can't be serious. Can she? I take one last look at those lovely hands and her slender forearms. I can't afford to even think about this right now. I shake my head to banish the thought.
She looks at me directly and nods. The truck door slams shut and she moves behind the truck. Waiting for a few cars to pass, she quickly darts across the street, disappearing into Skinner's building.
Part 2: Fiasco
Escaping and my concern for Mulder have been in the forefront of my mind for what feels like hours. While waiting for the elevator, I listen to the little whispers in the back of my mind.
Did I have sex with Alex Krycek? Did I really offer to do it again? And did the same Alex Krycek actually rescue me and drop me off at my boss's house? For some reason, the last seems the most shocking.
Probably because I now feel indebted to the rat bastard. Who'd've thought he'd help me flee a Consortium facility and then leave me safe and sound on Skinner's doorstep? This must be some kind of alternate reality.
I step in to the elevator, grateful there is no one around. I feel underdressed and uncomfortably aware that I reek of sex.
Oh shit. God, you would think I was Mulder. Rushing in without thinking about what I'm doing. Skinner is too observant to not notice the condition I'm in. Shit, shit, shit. How am I going to explain this?
Get a grip, Dana. Best to tell as much of the truth as possible. Just leave out the little detail about jumping Alex Krycek. Right. I can do this. But how to explain the smell? I'll just have to act like the clothes smelled this way when I got them. That seems reasonable, right? No, not really, but is Skinner really going to question it?
God, I hope Mulder's okay. And if he is, he won't be when I'm finished with him.
Standing in front of Skinner's door, I almost chicken out and head home to call from there. But it's too late now... I'd have no choice but to walk home. And that doesn't seem like much of a choice.
I reach out and ring the doorbell.
I sincerely hope I'm not waking him up. Truly, truly hate dealing with a cranky Skinner.
The door opens revealing a bare footed Skinner, in jeans with an open shirt. "Agent Scully?" He gestures for me to come in, his forehead crinkled with concern. "Are you all right?"
Probably because I've had sex on the brain all night, but it's impossible not to notice how good he looks. I don't think I've ever seen a physique as nice as his. Jesus, I've got to get my mind back on business. And speaking of my mind... I have a nasty headache.
I'm suddenly aware of how woefully unprepared I am for this situation. I feel terrible and, despite my urgency to get here, I really just want to curl up on my bed and think about what has happened. I feel like I'm coming unglued and do not want to do that in front of Skinner.
No choice, Dana. I take a deep breath and steel my resolve.
I hesitantly enter his apartment. "Uh, yes. I'm fine now. Mulder's in some kind of trouble." I turn to face him as he closes the door. No point in beating around the bush.
His stern face flashes his 'not again' look. "Do you need medical care?"
"What? No. Well, maybe water would be good." Am I babbling? I need to get rid of the gun before I drop it down my pants. "But first, an evidence bag would be nice." I pull out the Walther, uncomfortably aware that I'm flashing my midriff at my boss.
"Have a seat, Scully."
I select a very comfortable, overstuffed chair.
His eyes give away his concern, but he gets me a glass of water. Then he retrieves an evidence kit and a first aid kit.
He opens an evidence bag and I drop in the gun, glad to be rid of the damned thing. My throat is incredibly dry. I reach for the water, hands trembling and some water sloshes on my pants. I close my eyes, unable to believe I'm in this situation, and take a drink. I certainly appreciate Skinner's solicitousness but there is something more important at hand.
"What's going on, Scully?"
I suddenly realize I have forgotten something very obvious. There's paper and pen on the end table next to me. Grabbing both I start writing general directions to the facility where I was held while I begin explaining the situation.
"Sir, Mulder is off investigating something. I don't know what it is, but he must be in over his head if someone went to the trouble to kidnap and interrogate me. We need to begin an investigation into his whereabouts."
"I can resolve that mystery. I just bailed him out of jail in North Carolina a couple of hours ago. He's fine. I'm more worried about you, Scully. You say you were kidnapped?"
My mouth opens and then closes. Mulder is safe. I was in lockup with Alex Krycek, and Mulder was safe the whole time. I have a sudden overwhelming need to get out of here. I stand up, shaking--in part from a rage I refuse to even acknowledge, and in part from the drugs still in my system. I murmur to Skinner. "Sorry to bother you, sir. I'll prepare a report for you by tomorrow morning." The pen and paper are dangling from my fingers. I take a step, then realize the condition I'm in. How exactly are you going anywhere, Dana? And you still need to get a team out to the facility to investigate.
"Sit down, Agent," he says in that A.D. tone that leaves no room for argument. "Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning."
I collapse in the chair trying to salvage my dignity with some sort of numbness. It's not working. I can't quite wrap my brain around everything that's happened today. Has it only been one day? "Uh, I was leaving for lunch. Approaching my car in the Hoover garage, when two men jumped out of a black van parked next to me. They wrestled me into the van, ripped my jacket off and I felt a prick on my arm.
"Things became a little fuzzy after that. I was conscious but not able to move much or speak. Some kind of powerful sedative. I'm not entirely clear on how I lost my clothes. I vaguely remember struggling with someone--or several someones--when they were removed and replaced by these smelly things." I tug at the shirt. My trembling is getting worse and I'm sure my head is going to explode. I feel my composure slipping and drop my head in my hand trying to regain some sense of balance.
When he speaks, his voice is abnormally soft. "Scully, were you sexually assaulted?"
My head snaps up. If I had half a brain right now, I would have seen that coming. "Uh, no. No." Skinner nods gently. I write one last note on the directions and tear off the page, handing it to him.
"Rough directions to the consortium facility where I was held. We should send a team..."
Skinner is dialing the phone before I can finish my sentence. After several minutes and many more orders, he sets down the phone and looks at me.
His voice is gentle and almost soothing. "Okay, so what else do you remember?"
I wish I didn't have to do this. "They left me alone for a while--I don't know how long--so the sedative could wear off. Eventually three men returned asking questions about Mulder's whereabouts and the case he was investigating. When Mulder didn't show up today, I checked my voicemail at home. He had left some vague message about leaving and not wanting me to know what he was doing because it would be safer for me." I shake my head at the irony of the situation.
He looks calm, so I continue. "I told them I didn't know anything. They didn't believe me so they gave me some drug cocktail, presumably designed to make me more receptive to questioning." I find myself frowning. "It didn't have quite the expected result. I became a little hyper and excessively chatty, but unfocused, and they couldn't question me." I cringe at the memory of those first few minutes. "Uh, they said they'd have to wait for the drugs to wear off and then try something else."
I don't even want to say the next part, but leaving it out could look really bad if the information were to come to light later. "So they left me in a cell with Alex Krycek."
"Krycek?" His eyes are wide. "What did that son of a bitch do to you?"
This morning, I would have had the same reaction. "Well, he rescued me."
"Really?" He frowns and rubs his temples as if he has a headache, too. "Why would Krycek rescue you?"
Really good question. Because I gave him a mean blowjob and sat on his dick? I don't think Skinner would appreciate that. I opt for a neutral shrug. "The man's motives are, as ever, a complete mystery. He was being held prisoner and took me with him when he engineered his escape. I didn't feel like I was in a position to say no."
"How did you get from there to here?"
"We stole a truck from the parking lot and Krycek dropped me here." This sounds worse and worse.
Skinner's impassive mask slips and he gapes at me for a very brief moment before his typical Assistant Director expression is back. "You and Krycek stole a truck?"
"And Krycek brought you here?"
"Are we talking about the same Alex Krycek? Former agent, Alex Krycek?"
"You are aware that this man is a suspected felon?"
"Yes, sir. Do you think I should have persuaded him to give me his guns, the keys to the truck, and consent to take him to the Bureau?"
Skinner becomes quiet and a frown reminiscent of indigestion appears on his face. After a few minutes he says, "At least you got here safely." He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak again but the chirp of a cell phone interrupts him.
He retrieves it from the dining room table. "Skinner." "Mulder, calm-" "You-" His voice rises to an almost yell. "Mulder, shut up!" "Scully's here. She's safe." A grim smile reaches his face. "Alex Krycek brought her here." "Relax. She's fine, Mulder." "There's no need for that." "Mulder, I've had enough of you today. I'll drive her home, you can talk to her there." "Mulder, god dammit!" He closes the phone and turns to me. "He's on his way."
I could almost cry. But I won't. "I don't want..." to
see him. Oh heavens. When have I ever avoided Mulder? I have every reason to be
annoyed with him, but Mulder is one of the few people who has any ability to see
beyond the image I project. I don't feel like I can deal with him now. I pull my
knees to my chest, using them as a prop for my head.
"When he couldn't reach you, Mulder went to your apartment after I bailed him out."
There is some vital piece of information missing. "Why was he in jail?"
"B&E. He broke into the home of a scientist in Durham. Had what he thought was proof of American research on the black oil, including a sample of the Tunguska rocks, but the Durham P.D. confiscated it as evidence. And when I tried to retrieve it, it had apparently been stolen from their evidence locker." He shrugs as if to say, 'what else?'
My head is going to explode. I know it with absolute certainty. I can't deal with any more. My head is in my hands and I manage to only half suppress a whimper. Skinner is suddenly in front of me, crouched down. "Scully? Do you need a doctor?"
"No. The drugs are wearing off, leaving a nasty headache behind. It's not terminal."
"Mulder will be here soon and can drive you home." I groan. Alone time with Mulder. Perfect. Skinner misinterprets my groan. "I'll get you some aspirin."
Maybe this will all look better tomorrow. I doubt it.
"Scully, what happened?"
"Mulder, please, not now. Can you just take me home, and we can talk about it tomorrow?"
We've been driving for fifteen minutes and Mulder's incessant questions are driving me crazy. After he got the short version of my day from Skinner, he bustled me out of there quicker than I could blink. Which, of course, meant Mulder wanted to interrogate me and didn't want to do it in front of our boss.
I've been so busy trying to deflect his questions, I've
forgotten to be pissed at him. Just as he opens his mouth with another
rephrasing of the same question (what happened with Krycek?), I lean over and
punch him in the arm.
"For the stupid stunt you pulled! This whole mess is your fault. Do you ever think before you make these idiotic decisions, Mulder?"
He gives me a sideways look and evenly replies, "Seems like everything turned out okay, Scully. Unless something else happened to you." He looks at me directly and there's a flash of guilt in his eyes. "Did something else happen, Scully?"
"NO! How many times do I have to answer that question? I told you, I'm fine. No one hurt me. I feel a little queasy from the drugs and my head hurts, but some sleep will cure all my ills. Now will you drop it?"
"But, Scully... Krycek?"
"What about him?" Keep it under control, Dana. Mulder is too astute... can't afford to let anything slip.
"He didn't do anything to you?"
"God, Mulder. Like what? I told you he didn't hurt me and, as soon as the drugs wore off enough for me to function, he engineered our escape and took me to Skinner."
"Why would he do that?"
"I don't know. You know him better than I do... why don't you tell me?"
"Do you remember everything that happened while the drugs were affecting you?"
Nice change of subject, Mulder. "Of course. I was a little goofy, which probably amused him to no end, but I wasn't in a coma."
"And he... Krycek didn't... try anything?"
I'm tempted to act like I don't know what he's talking about, but playing dumb has never worked for me. "Anything? Mulder, are you asking if Alex Krycek made sexual overtures to me?"
He looks uncomfortable, his tone a bit petulant. "Well..."
I keep my voice even and tell him the exact truth. "I can assure you, he did not put the moves on me."
At that moment, Mulder pulls in front of my building. I grab the keys out of the ignition and remove my spare key, then toss him the ring. I'm slamming the car door when he starts to get out.
"No, Mulder. I'm exhausted and I feel wretched. I am going to turn off my phone and I will call you when I wake up tomorrow." I start up the walk, then decide to nip the upcoming interrogation in the bud. I look back at him. "And if you decide you want to talk about this further, be prepared to explain what you thought you were doing this morning."
His expression is a cross between worried, hurt and guilty. Normally, I would try to reassure him but I'm just not in the mood. I turn and head inside.
4 weeks later
Mulder ditched me this morning. Thank god things are getting back to normal. In the four weeks since my incarceration with Krycek, he's been unusually solicitous and it was starting to wear on my nerves.
Fortunately, it looks like he's recovered from his tour de guilt and it's back to business as usual.
Except, nothing has been 'usual' since that day.
Seventy percent of my idle thought processes over the last four weeks have been devoted to my few hours with this man. I just cannot stop thinking about it.
I suppose I should feel guilty. But I don't. I gave up feeling guilty about my sexual attraction to the rat bastard years ago. I came to accept that my subconscious manifests my repressed sexuality in the form of one Alex Rat Bastard Krycek. Of course, I never expected to actually have sex with him.
I should be more troubled that I had sex with Alex Krycek. Murderer, betrayer... all around son of a bitch. But what really bothers me is that it was the best sex I've had in years. In truth, one of the best sexual encounters of my entire life. Is that fair? If I believed in past lives, I'd have to wonder who I offended.
I feel a flash of anger--one of many such moments over the last month. Why did it have to be good?
God damn you, Krycek. If you've ruined me to have sex with normal men... moral men... hell, straight men... I'm gonna fucking kill you.
I would never have chosen to have sex with Krycek, but now that I have, I need to decide if I would do it again. Because I extended an invitation. Granted, he's not likely to accept it, but... what if?
For the 900th time, I ask myself, what was I thinking?
I get home from work late and have to rush my shower. I'm buttoning my blouse when the doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of my date. I grab my shoe and head for the door. I tug it on as I reach for the knob.
The door opens to reveal an attractive, if somewhat bland looking, man in his mid-thirties.
"Hi, Roger. Come on in. I just need to grab my purse and we can go." He gives me a peck on the cheek as he enters my apartment and, not for the first time, I notice the complete lack of chemistry between us.
I suppose I could be misreading it. We might get in bed together and do just fine.
A little voice whispers, 'he'd never let you act out your fantasy. But Alex would.'
I hate that voice sometimes.
The phone rings as we start out the door. I ignore it. We're half way down the hall when my cell phone chirps. Damn.
"Scully, we have to leave for Batesville, Arkansas."
"Yup. Got a report of four crop circles..."
I cut him off. "Mulder, who ever heard of crop circles in Arkansas?" I flash an apologetic look at Roger. He leans against the wall with a patient expression on his face and waits.
"Exactly. We need to get down there."
"Mulder, not tonight."
"Whatsa matter, Scully. Got a hot date?"
"What? With who?"
I know he'll find out if I don't tell him, so I might as well get it over with. "I'm with Roger right now."
"Roger? Roger who? God, not Roger from accounting? Say it ain't so, Scully."
"Ugh. Why? What are you gonna do with him? Hey, are you looking for investment advice or something?"
I sigh. "No, Mulder."
"Then there's nothing to do with him. Dump the loser and come pick me up. Our flight is in 90 minutes... I'll see you in 20."
There's a click indicating Mulder disconnected. I resist the urge to pitch my phone through the wall.
I'm ambivalent about calling off my date. On the one
hand, Roger is fairly uninspiring as a romantic interest. Conversely, I have few
opportunities to have a life outside of work and I resent the interruption.
If he doesn't turn up, well... there's nothing to worry about.
If he shows up... hmm... do I arrest him? What a conflict. I owe Krycek and even if I didn't, I'm not sure I could arrest him after accepting an invitation I extended.
Which leaves me to figure out if I would fuck him again. Well, actually, if he takes me up on my offer, it would be to fist him.
I wonder if I can do that... consciously go to bed with the rat.
As Mulder begins harassing me about Roger, I decide that I can.
Part 3: Tragedy
Two weeks later
It has been six fucking weeks and I'm still thinking about Dana Scully's forearms. She has many nice parts, actually, but she mentioned the fisting thing and now I'm obsessed with it. Her arms are just the right size--maybe 20 percent larger than anything that's been in my ass before. And those delicate fingers would feel so nice inside me. The mere thought makes me shiver.
If I allow myself to consider the truth, I actually like the little redhead. As a person. But it's not as if we're going to start dating or something, so I put that out of my mind.
But she did suggest that she'd fist me... her exact words were "...I'm pretty sure you can have that whenever you're ready for it." She couldn't have meant it. It must have been the residual effect of the drugs or a trap. It seems ridiculous to even consider it. However, it was equally ludicrous to think I'd feature prominently in her sex dreams.
The sensible thing to do is forget about it. The possibly life-saving thing. The only reasonable choice. Forget about it, Alex. It would be completely insane to try to take her up on her offer. She'd probably arrest you, hurt you or humiliate you. You have nothing to gain and everything to lose.
Mulder's out of town, but she's not. So I drop change in a payphone around the corner from her place.
"Scully, do you recognize my voice?"
Her tone is neutral. "Yes."
"If I came by just to talk, do you think you could avoid shooting me or arresting me or anything else that would be hazardous to my health?"
"Yes." Her tone is so calm, so professional sounding, I'm positive she's got a SWAT team in her apartment ready to take me out.
Nonetheless, like the horny fool I am, I find myself standing outside her door fifteen minutes later. I have to psyche myself up to knock.
She opens the door, SIG Sauer trained on my chest.
I'm not surprised to see the gun. Surprised only that she hasn't already aimed for my nuts and pulled the trigger. I stand still, trying to keep my face blank. "I left my gun in the car, Scully." It's actually true. I did leave my gun in the car. A possibly fatal mistake. But I'm clearly thinking with my dick here.
She lowers the weapon and stands back, motioning for me to enter. My intestines are screaming, 'It's a trick! Don't go in there!'
I step into the apartment.
Scully closes and locks the door. She's wearing darned close to nothing. A flimsy robe that clings to her curvy little body. Damn she looks good. I practically have to use my hand to close my jaw.
She gestures for me to sit. I select a safe place on her couch. She leaves me alone in the room and returns without her gun. Settling calmly into an armchair, she looks as if a chum has dropped by to chat.
I will never understand this woman. If the good lord had meant men to fuck women, he'd have made them easier to understand.
"What is it, Krycek?"
I make a placating gesture. "I brought something for you. It's in my pocket. Okay?"
I retrieve a bar of Valrhona and pass it to her.
Her eyes widen. I just know she's going to tell me she's on a diet or something. "Thank you. I looked for this a couple times... couldn't find it anywhere."
Placing the chocolate on the table, she taps her lower lip with her index finger. Then she catches herself doing it and stops abruptly. My hand goes automatically to my earlobe.
Her voice is quiet and gentle. "Why are you here, Krycek?" She looks at me quizzically. "Or do you want me to call you Alex for the rest of the evening?" "Alex," I reply. C'mon, you can do this, boy. "We, um, started something we never got to finish."
I am so certain she's going to nail me with some ugly but true remarks about my character or start reciting a list of my crimes. I've tried for days to think of some clever defense... 'It's like James Dean... my bad deeds just enhance my roguish good looks. Right?'
Standing up, she moves over to stand in front of me. I was wrong. She's not going to talk to me, she's just going to kill me. With her bare hands. Those same hands I've been drooling over for weeks.
What she does is a much greater surprise. She reaches out and touches my jaw lightly. "Hard for you to come here tonight?"
Fuck, who is this woman? This is like walking a minefield without a map. I look up at her with what I hope is an earnest look. "Yes, Dana." I kiss her fingertips.
I'm trying desperately to send her a non-verbal message. I don't want to talk about this, babe, but I can be a good boy. At least for long enough for you to fuck my brains out. Do you want me to beg? I will. Let's just avoid any discussion of my character or lack thereof. Please?
Her thumb is rubbing my lower lip. I can feel it like electricity arcing down to my cock.
"One night, Alex. Tonight. I will arrest you the next time I see you."
I churn through disbelief, relief and lust. I'm so fascinated that Dana Scully would consider such a thing that it's damned tempting to ask why. But there is really no point in opening that can of worms when I'm about to get laid. If she thinks about this, I'm certain to lose. Could it be possible that women think with their groins, too? Nah. That would be too simple.
She steps away from me and gestures toward her bedroom. Somehow, I can believe she'd fuck me before I can believe she'd invite me into her bedroom. It has to be a trick. Mulder is in there with a machine gun. That's why she's making me go first.
I hold my only weapon--my left arm--at the ready and enter the bedroom. Besides the obvious lack of irate partners, land mines and nuclear weapons, it's a disarmingly innocent looking room. Tasteful Shaker furniture. Feminine drapes and bedspread.
Christ, she's just tossed her robe and a nude Dana is gazing at me. I forget to breathe and somehow manage to mutter, "So beautiful, Dana." She is indeed lovely with her curvy body, smooth white skin and brassy red hair.
She gives me a glance that suggests maybe I'm better than a can of dog food myself. I watch her give me the head-to-toe and feel oddly proud that she's ogling me. Yeah, me... hot, masculine, scared shitless.
She tugs the blankets off her bed, dumping them in a heap on the floor. Then she comes to me, putting a hand on my stomach over the waistband of my jeans. "You sure?"
I'm standing here in front of an open bed with a naked Scully and now she wants to talk? "I should be asking you that question." I bite my lip and frown. "I'm no fool. Turn down a chance to try something new that I've fantasized about... with a beautiful woman who I admire? I'm many things, not all of them nice, but I'm not a fool, Dana."
No, wait, I am a fool. Krycek, you were supposed to tell her something useful, like how gorgeous her blue eyes are, not remind her to question her judgment about choosing you as a fuck buddy.
She reaches toward my face with her thumb, smoothing between my eyebrows. Smiling, she says, "Better. But your answers are still a little evasive. I really like it when you're direct."
Evasive? Moi? Hell, yes. And proud of it. In an alternate universe, the non-evasive Alex Krycek is deceased.
I slip my arm around her waist. She's naked and I'm fully dressed. She writhes against me, as if enjoying the textures of my clothes. I catch myself biting my lip again. Using her thumb, she extracts my lower lip from my teeth. "Allow me." She tugs my head down and captures that lip between her own teeth.
Damn, she makes Delilah Sanchez seem meek. And men are supposed to revile aggressive women. So why do I feel the urge to kneel and ask her permission to kiss her toes?
She nibbles at my lip before applying a little pressure. It doesn't hurt, but almost. Then she sucks it into her mouth and soothes it with her tongue. Then she's in my mouth, caressing the underside of my tongue.
My hips are starting to move. I'd hump her leg if it wasn't a foot too low. I groan into her mouth. My hand glides up her back, making its way into her silky hair. Touching and exploring. I pull my lips free and kiss the side of her face. "I'm sure, Dana," I whisper, nuzzling her cheek. My lips find her neck, and I kiss, suck and gnaw gently.
She gasps and moves her head to give me better access. After I've brought her to shivers chewing her neck, she breaks away and rests her head against my chest, catching her breath. She feels so good pressed against me. It makes me lightheaded.
After a moment, she pushes my jacket from my shoulders, catching it as it falls. She turns to lay it across a chair.
I start pulling up my T-shirt. She bats my hand away and pulls it off herself. She goes to work on my fly. I try to help, but she pushes my hands away. "Stop. I want to undress you."
I force myself to lower my hands to my sides.
Her lips and tongue play with one of my nipples while she unfastens my jeans.
She shifts behind me, sliding her hands into my pants and pushing them down. I feel her fingers on my ass, stroking and teasing my crack. Any blood that wasn't already in my cock reports there immediately. Inside my head, I'm begging, 'Yes, Dana. Fuck me. Please, babe.'
In front of me again, she captures the other nipple in her mouth. I'm unable to stop myself from rubbing my cock against her body. She pulls away and guides me to the bed.
I smile at her nervously as she removes the rest of my clothing. I feel like such a pampered boy toy. Does she see me like that? I sincerely hope so. C'mon, babe. Have your way with me.
Dana gestures to the bed and I lie down. She gazes at me for a moment and then climbs on the mattress. She slides up my body, licking the tip of my cock on the way.
"Dana," I whimper. That was supposed to come out a little more manly, but I'm falling apart. If I told her I was a topman, she would surely die laughing. I'll keep that in mind for use as a weapon, in case she suddenly becomes sane later tonight.
Straddling my waist, she leans forward and captures my mouth again.
I curl my arm around her tiny waist, pulling her closer. I suck on her lower lip, nipping it gently. She begins to chew on my upper lip. Settling her mouth squarely over mine, she caresses my lips and tongue briefly before breaking the kiss. She moves down a little, leaving little sucking kisses along my chest.
She looks up at me, her chin resting on the back of her hand. I'm about to ask what's running through her brain, when she says in a low voice, "Close your eyes."
She smiles. "Just for a little while. I want you to react... not anticipate." As she speaks her hand rests lightly over my eyes.
This is it. I'm a dead man.
Against all reason, I close my eyes and feel her move off me. I can tell by the way the mattress shifts that she is sitting on the bed next to me. One hand glides over my abdomen and begins a lazy caress.
My lower quarters are tingling from her touch. Except for my cock. If it could speak it would say in a throbbing tone, 'Touch me.'
After a few moments, her weight leaves the bed and her hand passes over my eyes again to remind me to keep them shut.
I hear a few muted noises and the sound of a drawer shutting. I'm about to open my eyes when I feel her weight further down on the bed. A breath later, her warm wet mouth closes over my cock, slowly working it down her throat. One small hand lightly squeezing my balls.
I emit an embarrassing hybrid groan/whimper. Apparently, she's going to suck me before she kills me. Okay. Fine. I'll come easily.
She continues working her mouth up and down the length of my erection for a few moments.
Who'd've thought the demure Agent Scully could suck cock like that? If I weren't such an arrogant asshole, I'd admit she does that better than I do.
Pulling her mouth off my dick, she shifts her weight as she moves to kneel between my legs, pushing them further apart.
Her mouth returns to my cock, swiping across the tip, before lightly licking and sucking at my balls. Her teasing mouth departs again and her hand grasps mine, guiding it to my leg. "Lift your leg, Alex."
Ahhh. The moment of truth. Will I spread my legs for this woman? Hell, yes!
I pull my leg to my chest.
Her arm lifts the other leg, pushing it up. Her voice is low and soft. "Will you be able to hold this leg?"
Sure, babe. I catch my left knee with the forearm of the prosthetic.
This has to be a bad idea. I feel so vulnerable and exposed. Duh. This is what you're here for, you moron. It's just that in my fantasies I feel so much more in control and less like a lump of meat about to be skewered. On the other hand, giving myself to this woman is distressingly arousing. My dripping cock is bobbing between my legs.
Her hands travel down the insides of my thighs, moving to stroke my cock a few times before caressing my ass cheeks. The fingers of one hand tease along the crack, brushing repeatedly across my anus.
Oh, fuck, yes. My ass is so damned sensitive.
Her voice is a murmur. "Mmm... just lovely. You have such a nice ass, Alex. I was quite perturbed with myself to have not made an effort to get acquainted with it when we were in the cell."
"Yeah, you and me both, Dana," I mutter inanely.
I hear her throaty laugh, just before I feel the light touch of her lips on one ass cheek. She trails her lips to the other cheek, biting gently. Her hands and mouth leave my body. A moment later, I feel one slick finger probe my anus as her other hand closes around the top of my cock, thumb rubbing across the head.
I inhale suddenly.
Her finger presses into me, exploring my anal passage for a several long moments. Pulling the finger out, she releases my cock and quickly returns with two fingers, thrusting inside me and brushing across my prostate.
At my reaction, she finger fucks me, pushing deeply and rubbing my prostate with each thrust.
The most bizarre sounds are coming out of my mouth. Moans or sobs. My ass matches her pace, thrusting onto her fingers. I remind myself to breathe.
The rhythm of her fingers slows and her other hand strokes my inner thigh. I feel the bed shift as she pulls her fingers almost all the way out. A moment later, she adds another finger, slowly pressing into me as her warm, wet tongue swipes across the head of my dick.
That tongue could really stay there for a while. I wouldn't mind, babe.
Moving her fingers in my ass, she glides across my prostate again. I gasp and feel the head of my dick quickly sucked in her mouth and then released.
So damned intense. It's like being fucked and sucked at the same time. Generally an impossibility without two dates.
The caressing hand leaves my thigh and I feel cool lube join the warm lubricant already on her thrusting fingers. She begins working the rapidly warming fluid into my body as she presses her fingers open, stretching my ass.
Dana's other hand caresses the cheeks of my ass. Her tormenting tongue returns to tease the head of my cock, pressing into the slit. Her fingers--those silky smooth fingers--keep working my ass, thrusting in, rubbing my prostate and stretching me.
I need... I need more. "Dana, please."
The warm wetness of her mouth travels to my inner thigh, sucking hard as I feel the fourth finger nudge my anus and she begins to press inside. There's a hint of a burn as those fingers breach my anus.
The sucking on my leg stops and her warm breath caresses my leg and groin. The coolness of more lubricant touches my anus as she presses the four fingers inside. She works slowly, subtly rotating her hand and stretching me.
That's Special Agent Dana Scully's hand inside me. It must be a fucking dream.
It feels so damned good... the way those fingers can touch me as no cock ever could.
Occasionally adding more lube, she stretches and explores my ass for what seems like an eternity.
Her tongue slips across my dick again, lapping a few times before blowing on the wet head.
"Uhhhh nuhhh." Why is she tormenting my cock? Why don't I care?
Her free hand strokes my balls, squeezing and caressing as she rotates her hand and pulls back slightly, pushing back in with the thumb this time.
Fuck. Now that burns and feels like heaven all at the same time.
She presses in a little further. Pressure builds at the ring of anal muscle as her knuckles press against my asshole. Her soft voice cuts across the sound of my gasps and moans. "Look at me, Alex."
I'm so lost in the sensation that it takes me a moment to process her words. My eyes open and I see the pale redhead sitting between my legs, staring at me intently. Her gaze is hard and soft at the same time. Beautiful. One of her hands lifts to lightly stroke along the length of my cock and the other is out of view--but certainly felt.
"I want you to look at me when I fuck you, Alex." Her voice quiet but firm, eyes focused and intense. She rotates her hand slightly, pressing in a little more.
I try to reply, 'Yes, Dana.' I can hear the words in my head, but what comes out is, "Uhhhh... ohhhh." I force my eyes to lock on to her crystal blue eyes.
Her hand leaves my cock and disappears as she glances down. I feel more lubricant touch my stretched asshole and I shiver with both want and fear when I see her stroke the lube onto her forearm. She catches her lip between her teeth briefly and her expression softens. Lifting her eyes back to mine, she pushes until her knuckles breach my asshole. The largest part of her hand is in the grip of my ass when she asks, "You want this, Alex?"
"Umhhhh..." I have to concentrate to get the words out. "Oh. Yes."
Her whole damned hand is inside me. I whimper plaintively, gaping at the sight.
Think, mouth. Lips. You can do it. "Fuck m... m... me, Da-na." And, babe, if you'll just touch my cock again, I'll die a happy man.
Her gaze never leaves mine as her hand slides further into me. There's a sudden sense of release as my asshole closes around her narrower wrist. She stops, then I feel her fingers move, brushing across my prostate as she closes her hand into a fist.
I struggle to breathe. And when I find air again, a low keening cry comes from my chest.
Dana strokes my inner thigh and lower abdomen, now staying away from my straining cock. I desperately want to let go of my right leg, to free my own hand for my cock. But somehow I don't think she'd be pleased. And, for some unfathomable reason, this seems important.
Pressing in further, her knuckles rasp across my prostate. I groan and start to tremble. She begins to slowly fuck me on her forearm, her hand buried deep in my ass.
Almost as desperately as I need stimulation on my cock, I need to tell her something about what I'm experiencing... but I can't put it into words. Except words I dare not say...
She begins to slowly twist her arm as she pulls out, turning it back when she pushes into me again. For the first time since her hand penetrated me, she breaks her gaze and watches her own arm twisting and sliding in and out of my ass. Her eyes roam across my body and face, returning to my ass again. When her eyes again meet mine, her expression is almost possessive.
"Alex... tell me what you want." Her voice is husky and a little rough.
She already fucking knows. Wants me to say it. It is painfully clear to me that I'd do anything she'd ask of me right now. I manage to spit out, "My cock..."
Continuing the slow, twisting thrust in my ass, her other hand closes, very lightly, around the base of my dick. Her eyes never leave mine. "You want to come now, Alex?"
"Yesss," I hiss, my hips thrusting under her hand, as much as they can in my awkward position. "Please."
She presses up, putting pressure on my prostate, and begins to lean forward. She stares at me for a moment before telling me what I want to hear. "Come for me, Alex." Her mouth closes around the head of my dick.
Dana Scully is god.
My body collapses into a series of shudders that feels like an all-body orgasm. I can't tell my ass from my cock from my nose. I'm flying high on my brain chemistry and the only thing anchoring me is her beautiful arm buried in my ass.
When I'm again semi-cognizant of reality, I'm aware of her tongue, slowly circling the head of my softening cock and her hand unmoving in my ass. Her wet mouth leaves my dick and she looks at me. I can barely focus. "Close your eyes again, Alex. Just relax." My brain is too fried to do anything but obey.
Her fingers uncurl in my rectum and she slowly begins to withdraw her arm. I cry out when her hand and knuckles begin to pass through my sphincter. Her free hand rubs my thigh in a reassuring motion and then her fingertips slip out of my ass.
I immediately feel bereft at the loss. Whimpering softly, I realize I need to touch her. And then, I become aware of awful pins and needles in my legs. My shoulders feel bruised from the strain of holding those legs.
There is no touch for a moment but I hear some faint noises. A towel passes over my ass and then her weight shifts as she guides me to relax my hand and release one leg.
As my leg stretches out on the bed, her hand rests on the other leg. I release the prosthetic arm and her hands lower the limb to rest on the sheets. My legs are stiff and painful, but I'm still dazed and rather mindlessly happy.
I hold out my arm blindly, wanting her close.
Suddenly, I feel the tickle of her hair on my shoulder and then her weight on my chest. I wrap my arm around her and clutch her to me.
I manage to mutter, "Thank you," before I slip onto my side, half on her body, half off. I cling to her like a barnacle, rubbing my face into her hair. "Dana..."
Consciousness slowly returns. I blink in the dim light of the room, trying to get my bearings. I feel a warm body pressed against my back, breath on my neck and fingers idly running through my hair. Dana.
Oh, Christ, I fell asleep on Dana Scully.
When she detects that I'm awake, there's a quiet whisper in my ear. "Welcome back. You okay?"
"Dana, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I didn't... I don't usually... Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry."
"Shh, Alex. Nothing to apologize for. I knew you needed some recovery time."
Who is this woman? Fuck, I'm such an asshole. I should have gone down on her first, or something. I briefly consider the possibility of shrinking in between the pillows and disappearing.
Instead, I try to be brave. I turn over and put my head on her shoulder. I'm nuzzled between her breast and her chin, before I even realize that I'm acting like a lovesick puppy. Her hand begins to lazily stroke my back.
How incredibly vulnerable I have allowed myself to become with this woman. This is a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
She had every opportunity to arrest me or hurt me. Fuck, with her hand up my ass, I'd have probably given detailed confessions for my crimes. Just to get her to touch my cock.
But the real reason I'm hurting is that I want her. Plain and simple. As a lover. Maybe even a friend.
Chill, Alex. This is a one-time deal. There won't be any sending flowers or taking her to the movies. Just tonight. That's all.
Then I'd better make the most of it.
Bracing my weight on my good arm, I lift myself over her body for a brief kiss. "What can I do for you, Dana?" I kiss her cheeks. "You've done so much for me tonight. Tell me your fantasies and let me do it all for you."
Her lips brush across mine then press against my cheek for a moment. Pulling back, her steady gaze locks on mine. "That was my fantasy, Alex." Her fingertips touch my jaw, then her hand drops. Without moving, she seems to pull away. Her voice is soft but her eyes are remote. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Great." I allow my weight to press down on her, as my lips find her neck.
She moans faintly and tips her head so I have better access. After a few moments, she begins to pull out from underneath me. She wiggles to a seated position and looks back at me. "I'm going to get dressed. You don't have to get up until you're ready." Her voice is still soft and her face is relaxed.
Fuck. She's asking me to leave.
My hand reaches for her shoulder and my eyes meet hers. "Please, babe, don't send me home without letting me make you come."
One brow shot up as soon as the word 'babe' passed my lips. She takes a breath and starts to say something, then seems to reconsider.
Oops. I really didn't mean to say that, babe.
Shaking her head, she starts again. "Alex... it's just not what I want right now. I thought I would, but I'm satisfied with the experience. Let's just let it be. Okay?"
But I want to please her. Need to please her. It seems vital in my current frame of mind. Urgent even.
Reality check, Krycek. She got what she wanted. It's done. Get out while you still can.
I can feel the frown on my face. My eyes flick to the floor as I force my face to neutral. "Yeah. Sure. If that's what you want." I rise to retrieve my clothing.
Somehow I feel emasculated.
I turn to face her.
"I enjoyed this. More than I expected. As strange as it may sound, can you accept that I am pleased enough that an orgasm is not going to enhance the experience?"
Must be a woman thing. It doesn't make any sense to me. "I... Okay, Dana." I find my clothes are folded in a nice pile on a chair with my jacket. I tug on my jeans. I'm damned lucky I got what I did from this encounter. I'm holding my T-shirt, facing the wall, when I ask the question that's been troubling me. "Why?" I clear my throat and force myself to turn and face her. "Why did you... would you..." I don't know how to ask it.
As always, her gaze is direct but there's a faint, brief flash of discomfort on her face. "I... the day we met, at the autopsy... I dreamt about you for the first time that night."
My jaw falls open. Me just playing a role--green, adoring G-man--and cool, distant Dana Scully dreaming about me.
"I've had a lot of practice at getting past any discomfort over being attracted to you. And plenty of practice at assuming nothing would ever happen.
"What happened in the cell was better than I had ever expected. And your apparent interest in my biggest fantasy, well," she shrugs, "it took me four weeks to decide what I would do if you decided to take me up on the offer. But I never actually expected you to."
She briefly rubs her forehead before continuing. "So, why? Because I wanted you. Just something for myself... a rarity these days. Getting to know a little of the man behind the rat bastard, has been... distressing. I would really rather have not found anything to like about you, Alex. Because it doesn't change anything."
No, it doesn't does it? It was a pleasant fantasy though. I made many irrevocable life choices, never knowing quite what I was giving up. Until today. And other days like this one, when I saw what I wanted and I couldn't have it.
I squat to slip on my socks and boots.
She rises from the bed and steps into the large walk-in closet. After a few moments, she emerges dressed in pale blue scrubs. Even though quite different, they remind me of the outfit she wore in the cell. She crosses the room to stand in front of me. One hand lightly touches my waist. "Thanks... for coming here tonight."
"And if I were an architect or an accountant and not what I am, would you want to see me again?"
"I would have been after you a long time ago." Reaching up, she pulls my head down and presses our lips together. She murmurs against my lips. "Now, Alex, be kind... please go. Before I ask you to stay."
When she steps away, I can see the truth in her face. She wants me, too, but can't accept it.
The consequences of my own actions are smacking me in the face. I realize I'm letting her see my sadness. What a colossal mistake that is. I retreat to my blank face.
She follows me to the front door.
I kiss her forehead, because I have to touch her again. "Thanks," I mutter almost inaudibly. For the truth. For your hand up my ass. For treating me like a decent human being.
She nods her head, looking faintly sad herself. She squeezes my hand, then reaches for the door knob.
The door snicks shut behind me.
Fuck. I don't know if that was the hottest sex of my life or the worst revenge that has ever been visited upon me. Both, I guess.
I walk down her street at the fastest possible pace that
won't draw attention. When someone's potted plant gets in the way, I kick it
viciously into a brick wall. The shattering sound of the pottery is oddly
Zoe Takashi & Louise Wu, Email Us
For more information about method slash writing, or to
see our other stories: