The Big Ditch

Scully heard the car start a second too late and ran out to see the Ford Taurus already halfway up the road. She pulled the towel off her damp hair and swung it in his direction, swearing under her breath. He owed her everything? She made him a whole person? He sure didn't act like that was the case. Fucking crazy bastard. She stormed back in her motel room and slammed the door.

Still swearing, she plugged in and turned on the hair dryer, the soft sound masking the soft click! as the bolt of the room door neatly slid back. The door swung softly open, the intruder readying himself for a defensive blow. But she was too absorbed in her hair and offended mutterings to notice anything, and he calmly walked toward her, withdrawing a knife.

Scully turned off the hair dryer and turned to her left. Her mouth dropped open in horror and her nerves flared, but Krycek was too close and her gun was too far.

He reached out and covered her mouth gently with his flesh and blood hand, shushing her gently, while showing her the huge knife. "Do what I say and I won't hurt you. You might even enjoy it."

Scully's blue eyes left the knife, traveled down slowly to the growing bulge in his jeans and she was suddenly terrified. She could feel her heart rattling away in her chest like a jackhammer.

"Take off your clothes." He said, brandishing the knife for emphasis. She slipped off her t-shirt and jeans, and then her underwear, her hands shaking. His eyes traveled over her admiringly.

"Unzip my pants." He continued, stepping closer. "Take it out. And run your tongue over the tip." She obeyed silently, all thought ceasing, her movements mechanical with her fear.

"Now lay down on the bed with your legs spread all the way." She lay down, her eyes widening more and more the closer he came, like a small animal in the headlights of an approaching car. He knelt at the foot of the bed, between her legs, and suddenly slammed the knife three inches from her right hip, the blade tearing through three layers of fabric.

She jumped, his prosthetic hand instantly muffling her horrified scream. He smiled and laid his good hand next to it. Then he went down on her.

She could not stifle her gasps. It felt good, so good...his warm tongue running back and forth across her swollen, red clitoris. Her gasps turned to moans as she moved from side to side, trying to evade his tongue, but also to increase the sensation. And suddenly she couldn't help herself. She grasped his head and pulled it down farther and came, over and over.

He raised his head, grinning like the Chesire Cat, rubbing his swollen member against her. "Put it in."

She shouldn't, couldn't want it, but she needed it so badly. She pushed him all the way in, her warm, tight velvet folds, closing around his concentrated self possesively.

It only takes him three minutes to come, just after she has had her fourth. He withdraws from her gently, smiles, zips his pants, and leaves.

And that was how it started.