Debriefing

COLUMBIA, MD

Skinner watched the agents swarm the house. The joint DEA/FBI bust was going down and everyone was poised to act. He hadn't worn SWAT gear in years, but it was his tip that led them to the bust, he was damn well going to lead the charge. Being in that office, as if tied to the chair, was the most emasculating experience of his life. As if they could remove his testicles by relegating him to supervision via his Section Chief.

He rounded the front of the large house and crouch-walked to the huge, ornate door. He waited a beat, signaling to the other officers to follow him. Skinner caressed the assault rifle in his hands as if he were touching a lover. It gave him a perverse pleasure. However, this lover was not going to caress him back. This lover was going to help him get back some of his self respect. He waited a moment more, then gave the signal to the agents with the battering ram. The door flew from it's hinges, splinters flying in all directions, glass showering the wood floor of the front hall of the house.

He led the other agents into the house, despite their protests in planning. He did not want younger agents, with careers ahead of them and families to consider being the first to fall should they have been ambushed during their ambush. He was not prepared for what they found. After clearing most of the main floor rooms, and agents going up the stairs to check the second floor, Skinner made his way to two large oak doors. Taking a deep breath, he raised his right leg and planted his foot firmly where the two door knobs met each other. The doors swung wide open.

Spender sat in his wheelchair in the middle of the room, Browning semi- automatic pistol in his hand pointing down at a man who was lying on what looked like an expensive Persian rug. Skinner's breath hitched as he recognized him as Alex Krycek, former FBI agent, former assassin, former consortium member, current lover. Spender's weapon's safety was off and Skinner wasted no time in picking a shot off to send the gun flying across the room. Krycek turned away from Skinner as the man stalked into the room, gun still trained on Spender. The shame on his face was apparent.

"Raise your hands in the air and do not move. Any movement other than what I've told you will be considered a hostile act and I will shoot to kill. Do you understand me?" Spender slowly raised his arms and whispered, "Yes." The cancer had almost completely eaten his vocal cords and he could barely speak.

More agents poured into the room and took Skinner's direction to search Spender for any weapons. He stepped to where Krycek still lay, on his back giving his belly up to Skinner in a sign of submission. When the agents had removed Spender to a waiting car to take him away, Skinner held his hand out to Krycek to help the man stand. They stood looking at each other a long time in the room. It was decorated in dark woods, heavy tapestry drapes on the windows, rows and rows of books, and a huge mahogany desk in the middle. It was definitely a man's room. Probably Spender's inner sanctum.

"Follow me and don't say a word to anyone. I'll do the talking." Krycek just nodded, slack-jawed and scared. In all the time they'd been together, Skinner had never seen Krycek genuinely frightened. And that was all Skinner could categorize the behavior as. He led the former agent to his Blazer and said, "Get in the truck. Don't even look up."

Krycek nodded dumbly. He sat in the truck, slowly fastening his seatbelt and waited while Skinner spoke to the agents there. Skinner tried to make hasty excuses, trying to get away. When Kersh cornered him, he knew he'd have to lie. "Mr. Skinner, why is that prisoner in your truck and not in a police car?"

"This is my informant. I'm taking him in for debriefing." Skinner's face was a mask of calm, the exact opposite of the rage and fear that were wrestling just under his skin. Kersh looked at the bowed head in the front seat, then back to Skinner. He had no clue it was the Lone Gunmen who had tipped off Skinner and not Krycek, but what Kersh didn't know wouldn't hurt anyone. Praying silently for strength, Skinner fought to control his body's reaction, to keep it from Kersh, when the DD nodded and sent Skinner off with a wave of his hand. Nodding, Skinner made his way to his truck and sped off, heading for home.

CRYSTAL CITY, VA VIVA TOWER, 17th FLOOR

Skinner locked the door and set the alarms before taking the time to remove his battle gear. He thought it was amusing how his neighbors stared at him in his FBI equipment. He'd just nodded and moved Krycek ahead of him into the elevator. But in the living room, watching the younger man, Skinner was very nervous about how skittish Krycek was acting. He looked tired and pale. He hadn't said a word in the truck, but then, neither had Skinner.

Stripped down to his black t-shirt and black combat pants, Skinner walked to where Krycek stood, waiting to see if the man would move. He reached out and touched Krycek's should and the man jumped as if spooked by a ghost. He turned to Skinner, revealing his quivering chin and tear-streaked cheeks. He looked into Skinner's eyes, then turned away. Skinner could hear the younger man sobbing quietly. He knew Krycek had demons, but this was a reaction that he'd never seen before, even after Krycek came home to him from the Tunisian prison.

"Alex, come on, we need to debrief. Don't make me a liar to Kersh. Sit on the couch, I'll get you a drink." Skinner left the man to collect himself while he went to the kitchen to get the bottle of Stolichnaya vodka from the freezer. He grabbed two tumblers from the cabinet and walked into the living room. Sitting beside Krycek, Skinner poured out the vodka and handed a glass to Krycek. They held their glasses up in a silent toast and tossed back the icy liquid. Krycek shuddered, which was a first that Skinner ever saw. This was a man who could swallow vodka, scotch and even one-fifty-one rum as if it were water. They shared another swallow before the big man sat back against his couch, sliding the bottle away from his guest, indicating the debriefing would begin.

"So, what was that all about in Spender's study?" Skinner asked, almost conversationally. He watched as another shudder went through Krycek's body.

Shaking his head, Krycek began, "He called me there to tell me how he was planning the newest wave of his quest. He doesn't know we've mass- produced the vaccine and began eliminating the possibility of infection. He doesn't know I'm working with the CDC and the WHO in order to make sure that every person is vaccinated. What he does know is that you and I are together. There were pictures and he's got video. He locked them in the safe. He said if I didn't help him..."

A sob caught in Krycek's throat. Skinner reached out and stroked his shoulder, encouraging him to continue. But Krycek just kept staring into his clasped hands. "He was going to what, Alex? Ruin my career? I don't care. No one would listen to him anyway. Not after all the hard evidence you've provided about him and Consortium. The CIA/FBI joint investigation will take care of him. And we can go back for the tape and photos."

"No, he wanted to kill you. He was going to shoot me, just for good measure, then kill you, slowly. I just couldn't deal. Fuck, I lost my edge, Walt, I lost my fucking edge! He kicked me in the knee, and where he got the strength to do that, I'll never know. When I hit the floor, the gun I had skittered across the floor. He pulled his, made me toss my gun out the window. I swear to God, I don't know what happened to me. All my instincts fled. I was just a scared little man. My dick shriveled when he told me he didn't know if he should shoot me in the left shoulder, or my nuts. Fuck, I'm no good to you, or this project, if I lose my edge. Man, just take me the fuck out..."

Krycek pitched forward, bending his body in half and burying his face in his hands. Skinner moved forward and put his arms around the younger man. Pain and sorrow, uselessness and fear emanated from Krycek like heat. Skinner knew how that felt, what it felt like to know that you weren't good for anything. He'd felt that way when he made it home from Vietnam. He wasn't fully healed. He'd spent his infirm time usefully, keeping other guys' hopes up, writing letters home for them when they couldn't, talking to them, holding their hands through long nights without morphine or even heroin. But upon reaching the states, he felt as if no one needed him. He didn't want his mother fussing over him, nor his sister. That was how he pictured Krycek feeling.

"Well, I'm not shooting you. The project needs you too much. So get your shit together. I don't care what you need to do, work out more, go on vacation, get your ass fucked more, whatever it takes, but get it together, man. I will not molly-coddle you. And I'm not going to lose you. Got me?" Skinner hoped his stern tone wasn't too hurtful to Krycek. He loved the man deeply, although he hadn't said as much. Krycek hadn't either.

It didn't matter. When you made love to a person they way they had, there was no misinterpreting the feelings. Both men had been left shuddering, whimpering and sometimes sobbing. Throughout all the years, the assignments, the attempts on each other's lives, they remained lovers. It wasn't easy, it wasn't even smart, but they continued seeing each other. Their trysts usually consisted of Alex breaking into Walter's domicile, especially the condo, even the house right before Sharon died.

Krycek sat up and looked at Skinner. The older man wore a face of determination, but not anger. And after all their years together, Krycek knew the difference. He stood smoothly and said, "I'm gonna go wash my face. I'll see you upstairs."

Skinner nodded and watched as the tight ass made its way up his stairs. He took the vodka and glasses to the kitchen and turned off the lights and set the security alarm to go to bed. He found Krycek in the dark bedroom, the only light coming from the dim wall sconce in the hallway. He was half undressed, removing his prosthetic arm, hand shaking. Skinner gently pushed the unsteady hand away and finished removing the appliance and placed it on his plush wingback chair for safekeeping. He stood before Krycek and smiled down at his lover.

"I've been waiting for this for weeks, Alex. I don't care where you've been. I'm glad you're here now." He leaned down and kissed Krycek gently, accepting his searching tongue. Krycek wrapped his arm around Skinner's back, dragging them together roughly. Skinner could tell that Krycek was impatient. He would have to keep control, make sure they didn't speed through a furious coupling. Skinner's hands went to the waist of Krycek's jeans, working with the button fly. Krycek let his arm fall away from Skinner's body.

He sat on the bed before his lover, working the tight denim over slim hips and a rounded ass. Of course, Krycek wore no underwear. He just preferred going commando when he was working. Reaching down to slip off the leather boots and socks, Skinner worked the rest of Krycek's clothes from his body. Two big hands slid over the smooth chest, thick middle and narrow waist. His mouth began moving over Krycek's stomach, worshiping his body. The man had once wondered aloud to Skinner why was it that as much as he exercised when he could, and missed meals, that he never had defined abdominal muscles like Skinner had. Skinner reassured him it didn't matter, that he was sexy as he was dangerous. These were very personal times, when Krycek would show himself, when he would allow his real personality to peak through. Always post-coital, and Skinner cherished every moment. He didn't know when any encounter would be their last.

Skinner stood and moved Krycek to lie on the bed. He began removing his own clothing slowly, taking his time to show Krycek he wasn't in a hurry to see the man leave. He wanted Krycek to at least stay the night, knowing the man usually wanted a quick shower and to get out as fast as he could. This night, Skinner would beg him to stay if he had to. He pulled a condom and a bottle of Wet out of his beside table drawer and put them on top of it.

Naked, Skinner crawled across his bed, stopping only to put his glasses on the table, the soft country quilt pliant under his hands and knees. He sat back on his calves, just looking at the delicious man laid out before him. One tentative hand slid from foot to thigh slowly, squeezing and massaging as he went along. Krycek laid his head back and looked at the ceiling. This drove Skinner to action, to make Krycek put himself in the now, in the room, on the bed. Not off in some fantasy where Krycek was a better person, a different person like he thought Skinner wanted. He'd said this once, and they never mentioned it again. He crawled up Krycek's body, lazily trailing his hard cock along the soft skin of the abdomen and chest presented to him, and began kissing Krycek's shoulders and neck.

"Let me in, Alex. Just this once, let me in," Skinner begged. Green eyes shone with tears that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. Meeting mouths pushed away feelings of fear, dread and loathing. Two men began wrestling together, touching all over their bodies, caressing and squeezing. Skinner latched his mouth onto Krycek's nipple, causing a hand to wrap around his neck. Skinner turned his attention to the other nipple, making a matching pair of hard nubs.

Slowly, carefully, with as much skill and passion as he'd ever felt, Skinner kissed his way down Krycek's body, licking each of his ribs, pausing at the navel to taste it thoroughly and kissed down his treasure trail to nuzzle the thatch of black curls between his legs. Krycek's cock dragged along his torso and was hot, hard and throbbing against his throat as he kissed each hipbone, causing Krycek to squirm. "Fuck, Walt, just suck it, already."

Skinner looked up and smiled before taking Krycek's entire length down his throat, eliciting a yelp from him. His hand automatically went to Skinner shoulder, stroking the soft skin and kneading muscles. Knowing Krycek's pattern, Skinner waited for the hand to encircle his neck, then to slide over his scalp. Krycek never pushed him down or directed Skinner. This was pure worship and thanks.

Feeling the balls tense in his hand, Skinner pulled up from his task, and kissed his way back up the smooth body. He paid particular attention to Krycek's flanks, grazing his teeth over the prominent ribs. He paused under Krycek's right arm, the only one he ever let Skinner near. Kissing under the arm in the soft nest of hair, Skinner continued his oral assault back up the slender throat and firm jaw. An open, panting mouth greeted him when he finally made his way back to Krycek's face.

"Get on my lap," Skinner said, sitting up in the bed. He moved toward the middle of the bed to kneel before Krycek. The younger man looked on for only a moment before grabbing the condom and bottle from the bedside and crawled over to Skinner. It would be their first face-to-face fuck. Krycek was eager this time, not balking like he had when Skinner had brought it up once before. Dropping the supplies on the quilt, Krycek straddled Skinner's thighs. Their cocks ground together as lips met, both meeting places hot and wet. Krycek sat back and rolled the condom onto skinner's erection, then poured a good amount of lube onto it. He barely gave Skinner a moment to breathe before impaling himself. He wasn't prepared, nor had he been with anyone in the seven weeks prior when he'd last been with Skinner, but he seemed to open readily to the massive cock invading his ass.

"Yeah, Walt, this is good," he breathed in Skinner's ear before he began nibbling the lobe and kissing right behind it. Skinner's hands slid up Krycek's back, mapping each inch of flesh. Krycek began moving slowly, savoring the way the long, thick member slid in and out of him. Skinner held his hips steady to help Krycek, but soon found his hands sliding down to grab two handfuls of ass. The dim light, barely illuminating anything, twinkled in the jade eyes that were half-lidded and fluttering with sable lashes. There was no sound, with the windows closed and the apartment dark, but their panting and the squeaking of the bed frame.

Krycek leaned back to get his hand on his cock, but he wasn't steady. Skinner tried to hold tighter, but it wasn't working. When the fist tentative contact was made on Skinner's shoulder, both men looked directly at one another. One waited for rejection, the other waited for anger. Neither exhibited the others expectation. What did happen was Krycek leaned heavily on the stump of his arm, severed at mid-bicep, and used the other to jerk his cock.

Skinner was in heaven at the contact. It was just as soft as any skin; the older-looking scarring on the truncated limb didn't feel like old stiff leather, but like fine satin. Skinner took Krycek's mouth is a searing, soul-stirring kiss and moved to grab the man's cock himself. Krycek's free hand went to Skinner's neck to pull their bodies together closer. It was as if they were making love to two new people. Skinner tentatively slid his hand down the shoulder and arm to stroke the scarred end.

"Oh God, Alex, this is amazing," Skinner barely breathed. "I love you, Alex..." He stroked Krycek faster, pumping up into Alex's ass harder. Krycek kissed the big man again, holding for dear life as he came harder than he ever had in his life. No expletives as he was wont to shout usually, no biting Skinner's flesh, as usually he would bite the pillow, only the moans of his lover's name.

"Oh, Walt, yes, oh, oh, oh..." he moaned as Skinner came right after him.

"Alex, yes, oh, mmmmm..." and he pulled their bodies closer, gluing them together with Krycek's semen. The continued kissing as the tremors subsided. Skinner slowly ran his hands over Krycek's back, soothing him in afterglow. Krycek did his own soothing, stroking Skinner's back as well with his hand, and stroking Skinner's neck with the other arm. Skinner's heart skipped a beat as his reluctant lover let him become closer in that moment than they'd ever been before. Never had they made love facing each other, nor spoken each other's names in orgasm, Skinner hadn't told Krycek about loving him, and most importantly, Krycek had never touched Skinner with his severed limb nor let him touch it.

After a few more moments of kissing and cuddling, Skinner pulled back. "Let me clean us up and we can get some rest, OK?" he asked. He looked hopefully at Krycek. Krycek gave a small grin and slid off Skinner's thighs. After visiting the bathroom to clean himself, Skinner brought a washcloth to Krycek to wipe his belly and ass, and used a hand towel to dry him. He tossed them into the bathroom sink, turned out the hallway wall sconce and settled in the bed.

Krycek lay on his left side, legs stretched out comfortably. Skinner lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Mind if I stay here? I'm too tired to go all the way back to my motel." He sounded bored, almost indifferent. It was the confident and calm Krycek that Skinner knew well. It was the man who believed in himself, who cared for nothing, but himself. Except now, Skinner knew him so well, there was a place in the young man's heart for him now.

Skinner rolled onto his own left side, beside Krycek and whispered, "You're always welcome to stay here. Usually, I hope you'll stay, but I just thought you wanted to get away as fast as you could."

"No, I just didn't want to get used to this. I guess that's not a problem anymore, is it?"

"Is it?" Skinner inched closer, still not touching Krycek's body.

"No, it isn't." Then, after a silent beat, "My back is cold."

Skinner smiled and slid behind to wrap his arm around the thick body before him, spooning comfortably. He buried his nose in Krycek's sweet-smelling hair and snuffled a sigh against Krycek's head. Krycek snuggled backward. "I love you, Walt. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Alex."