"I don't think I stuttered, Agent Scully," Kersh said coldly. "It makes no
sense to have a police officer dress up to fit the victim profile when you
fit it naturally. Perfectly, I might add."
"Sir, I have no undercover experience. I'm not sure I can do the job."
"It's not brain surgery, Agent. I'm sure you'll have no problem at all
acting like a whore."
She stared at her supervisor for a long moment. There was a definite sneer
in his eyes but none on his face, so she didn't have grounds for protest.
"Yes, Sir." She swiveled and strode out of the office, not waiting to be
dismissed. God! This was worse than investigating fertilizer. Damn Mulder
anyway. Him and his profiles.
"Scully, wait!"
Speak of the devil. "What, Mulder?" She stopped and waited for her
long-legged partner to reach her.
"Tell me it's not true? Kersh is making you the bait for the 'Red-Headed
Stalker'?"
"Yes, thanks to you and your damned victim profile."
"Jeez, Scully. It was kind of a gimme. All eight of the dead hookers were
either red heads when he picked them up or red heads by the time he dumped
their bodies. All of 'em were under five-foot-four and none of 'em weighed
more than 110. Hell, even Jeff Spender could've come up with the profile."
"Well, he didn't. You did. And now I'm out on the street. Literally. It's
humiliating."
Mulder took his best soothing tone. "Did you let him know you were
inexperienced. Never done undercover, never worked vice?"
"Of course I did, Mulder. He didn't care. 'It's not brain surgery.'" she
mocked. "Kersh doesn't think I'll have any problem acting like a whore."
"He said that?" Outraged. "In front of witnesses?"
"No. We were alone."
"That son of a bitch. He wants us to resign."
"I don't think so, Mulder. I think he wants us dead."
Mulder grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty room. "You think this
stakeout's a set up?"
"Not, really. There're too many other agencies involved. But, Mulder, I
don't think he'd cry if I got caught in the crossfire."
"Fuck," he said softly.
"I think that's supposed to be my line."
Scully's face flamed as she walked through the corridors of the Georgetown
PD in her full hooker regalia. Whistles and catcalls followed her like a
bad smell, and she cursed all cops, serial killers and assistant directors.
"Whoa, Scully," said Fox Mulder, whistling through his teeth as she walked
into the large conference-room-turned-war-room. "You tart up real well." He
circled her as she seethed, looking her up and down from the three-inch red
satin open toed heels, to the white thigh-high stockings, up to the black
leather mini—micro actually—to the scoop-neck gold satin top that showed
a tasteful inch of black lace bra. Her hair was a bright copper frizz.
"I'll freeze in this," she stormed.
"No you won't," said one of her tormenters, a nameless detective from
another precinct, handing her a fuzzy fake-rabbit-fur jacket.
"Oh, this covers a lot," she said putting it on. It barely reached her
waist.
"Hey," said the detective, "if I were your pimp, you wouldn't even get
that."
"If you were my pimp," she retorted, "I'd have cut your balls off and made
you eat them." He glared at her, opening his mouth for a reply. "Assuming I
could find them," she added.
This earned her cheers and several "you go girls," effectively shutting him
off from any further comments.
"We'll kill him later," Mulder murmured into her ear as he rechecked her
surveillance wire. She snorted and he grinned. "Showtime."
Scully's feet already hurt, and she'd been parading up and down the block
for less than an hour. All eight victims had been picked up from the same
four-block Georgetown strip. Their bodies had been dumped, raped, mutilated
and in three cases dyed, throughout four states. They all had the same
words, 'red is my bestest color,' painted on their torsos with their own
blood.
Cars cruised her, a few stopping. She'd sashay up to them, lean
provocatively into the windows and start her spiel, "Want to party,
handsome?" Waiting for Mulder's voice in her ear to tell her "yea, nay or
maybe." So far, they'd all been "nays." What a way to make a living!
"Whatever these girls get," she whispered into the wire, "it's not enough."
It was after midnight, more than two hours still to go and her feet were
icy blocks of pain. A shiny black BMW passed her slowly, turned the corner
and in a few minutes, cruised back, following her. She stopped and stared
into its darkened windows, cocked a hip, posing. It stopped and the window
cranked down, but she still couldn't see inside. Leaning in, she started,
"Want to party... Krycek! You rat bastard son of a bitch!" She backed up,
reaching for the gun at her back, then stopped, staring at Krycek's large
pistol and demonic grin.
"Calm down, Dana. Don't want to blow your cover. This is undercover, right?
I heard times were hard for you at the Bureau, but I really hope you're not
reduced to moonlighting."
She sputtered, unable to come up with an appropriate curse.
"I assume you're wired," he continued, grinning, "so tell your handlers
that I have no plans to hurt you unless I see any cop-like figures
approaching us."
"They can hear you," she said between clenched teeth.
"Good. Hi, Mulder. Mulder's there, right?" She nodded. "Hear this, then,
Agent Mulder: I'm going to borrow your partner for a few minutes. I won't
hurt her. I won't go out of range, so you can hear what's going on. I'll
return her in slightly better shape than I found her." At Scully's
indignant squeak he added, "This car's got a great heater. Get in Scully."
He motioned with the gun.
"It's okay," she told the wire, settling in the car, "He'd have killed me
already if he was going to."
"Good girl," Krycek murmured, pulling away from the curb. "Hand me your
gun, then tell Mulder to shut up and just listen," he said, guessing
correctly that she was wearing a two-way wire. He placed her gun on the
dash in front of him. Krycek drove for about five minutes, cutting through
alleys and running red lights, finally darting into a condo carport,
sandwiching the BMW between a dark green Bronco and a small RV.
The heater was great. As much as she hated to be grateful for anything
connected to Alex Krycek, she was very happy to be warm and sitting. She
wasn't even very frightened. He might kill her, but she doubted very much
if he'd hurt her. "What's this all about, Krycek?" she asked once he'd
parked.
"There's a file on the back seat. Get it."
Jesus. Everybody wanted her to jump through hoops. She turned to get on her
knees and reach into the back seat. "Where?" She couldn't see squat.
"Behind me."
Shit. She'd have to reach close to him to get it. Just as she put her hands
on the cardboard, she felt the cold touch of a gun on her thigh, just above
the stocking. "I will kill you, Krycek. Maybe not tonight. But someday.
Slowly." She grabbed the file and sat back down, as far away from him as
she could get.
"Couldn't help myself," he chuckled. "Seeing the Ice Queen all hussied up
like this is, well, hot. You know, Dana, I never thought you had it in
you."
"Oh, fuck you, Krycek."
"Hmmm," he answered. "So, what's the going price for prime ass these days?"
She knew he was talking trash to yank Mulder's chain, could hear Mulder's
curses in her ear, but it pissed her off as well. She smiled coldly at him.
"Even if you could afford it, you wouldn't live through it."
"Might be worth it," he purred. "What you say, Mulder? You and Dana here
ever done the big nasty?"
"Asshole."
"Cunt."
They stared at each other for a beat, then Krycek smiled brightly at her.
"Wanna see my file, Dana?"
"I've seen your file, Alex."
"Not this one, you haven't," he said. "It's something you and Mulder will
be interested in. A real, live X-File."
"We don't do X-Files anymore," she said, eyes big, willing him not to say
anymore, knowing Kersh's lackeys were with Mulder, listening. Rat bastard
or not, he had connections.
"Oh, not officially, maybe, but I know how you two like to dabble." He held
a finger up to her lips. 'Red herring,' he mouthed. He opened the file and
worked something off the inside cover with a fingernail. He held it up for
her to see. 'Microdot,' he said silently. She nodded her understanding,
then held her breath as he leaned over to her reaching into her coat to
stroke her breast.
"What are you... " she began before he quietly shushed her. The dot lay on the
top of her breast, looking for all the world like a beauty mark.
Krycek began to noisily fold the papers in the file into a small square.
"Here, there aren't very many pages. They'll fit in your coat pocket. You
show 'em to Fox. He'll know what to do. Now, how about a blowjob. You know,
to show your thanks." He grinned, looking like a small boy with a secret. A
boy with huge green eyes and killer lashes.
Scully felt a sudden, irrational surge of—could that be lust? —and
squashed it down immediately. How long had it been since she had given, or
gotten, a blowjob? "Do you really want my teeth anywhere near your dick?"
she asked, dripping sarcasm.
He laughed, the first honest sound she'd heard from him. "Good point," he
said, putting the car in gear. "If you're not going to blow me, guess I'll
just take you back to your corner. You can talk now, Mulder."
"He says he's going to rip out your liver and make you eat it."
"Tsk, tsk. Always trying to get me to eat something, aren't you, Fox?" He
glanced at Scully, waiting for the response.
She shook her head. "I won't repeat that."
"Just as well. He won't win." He pulled up near the spot where he picked
her up. He handed Scully her gun back just before she left the car. Then
Alex scooched over and leaned out the door after her. "Here, doll," he said
handing her two twenty dollar bills. "Here's a tip. You were great."
She glared but couldn't not take the money without ruining her cover.
"Thanks," she said tersely. "Come again." She turned her back on him, but
he called her back.
"Hey, doll!"
"What?" She was going to kill him, cover or no cover.
"Want a breath mint?"
She growled and headed back toward him, but he hastily closed the door and
peeled out.
Dana took up her hooker stroll, feet starting to ache all over again. At
least she'd had time to get warm. And the Krycek interlude had left her
jazzed. She felt wired, high, as if she could take on anyone. "Come on,
perverts," she whispered into the night.
An eternity of pimply faced college boys and overweight businessmen later,
Scully was ready to go on her own killing spree. "Just a little while more,
Scully," Mulder said in her ear. "He hasn't taken anyone after 3 a.m."
"I'll slit my wrists before then," she told him softly, just to hear him
laugh. "Heads up, here's a live one," she said, as a nondescript Nissan
pulled up to the curb.
"Hey, handsome," she said leaning into the car, "want to party?"
"I dunno," came the soft reply. "Are you a real redhead?"
"You'll have to pay to find that out big boy, why do you ask?"
"Cause red is my bestest color."
"That's him, that's him. Stall him Scully!" She heard Mulder and scrambling
sounds and her heart was beating so hard she was sure the perp could hear
it, could feel the adrenaline hit her body.
"Ooh, mine too," she managed to say. "Whatcha got in mind? All night'll
cost you $300. And I take the cash up front, before I get in the car."
"You look like you'd be a real red head." The voice was almost a whisper,
accentless, anonymous.
"And you look like you'd be a real good time." Scully leaned in farther,
trying to get a look at the perp, see if he was armed, and with what.
"How much for just an hour?"
"$50. Up front, like I said."
"Sure, I understand," he reached into a pocket and brought out some bills.
"Here," he said, reaching toward her.
Scully reached for the bills, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hard,
jerking her off her feet and into the window, pulling her through.
"Mulder!" She screamed into the wire, unable to reach the gun at her back
or get any purchase to pull back or stop her forward motion. Then release.
The driver's side door was torn open and the perp pulled out of the car
onto the ground, cuffed.
Hands, gentle now, easing her out of the car window, soothing her, Mulder's
friendly warmth. Safety. It was a whirlwind, but before she could make out
who all was milling around, Assistant Director Kersh was at her side, hands
invading her pockets, demanding Krycek's file. Accusing her of duplicity,
of consorting with criminals and disobeying direct orders. Mulder's angry
curses, his slender body running interference, coming between her and their
boss.
Panicked, she clutched at her breast, feeling for Krycek's dot, afraid it
had been pulled off in her struggle with the killer. Slight bump under her
fingers, still there.
"Mulder, stop, it's okay." Finding her voice, willing composure, fighting
the adrenaline shakes. "Sir," she directed at Kersh, "if you'll listen to
the surveillance tape, you'll know that 'meeting' with Alex Krycek was not
planned. At least not on our part. You'll also hear me tell Krycek that we
are no longer involved in the X-Files. I haven't looked at that file. You
should be able to determine that from the tapes as well." She held his
glare, daring him to accuse her again. He turned and left, not bothering to
congratulate anyone on the successful capture of a serial killer.
"Wow," said one of the surveillance cops, "what'd you do to piss him off?"
She grinned tiredly, winking at Mulder. "Wouldn't blow him either." She
absorbed the laughs and applause at her boss's expense, grateful for once
to be an accepted member of a team, high on the danger and success.
The sky was lightening by the time she let herself into her apartment.
Interrogation and reports, paperwork and debriefing. Somehow, her own
clothes had 'disappeared' from the station, leaving her still in her
whore's get-up. More humiliation. But now the catcalls were good-natured.
The razzing not directed at some interloper fibbie but at just another
flatfoot with too much integrity and a lousy boss.
God! She was tired. But jazzed still, jumpy and be honest, Dana horny,
too. Something about the clothes and men's looks and the unadulterated lust
that had been directed toward her all night long.
She entered her bedroom and posed for a moment in front of the full-length
mirror hanging on her closet door. The gold satin blouse was torn, her hair
was wild and one stocking had a wide run up the side. She looked like she'd
spent the night fucking. No wonder all the males had been salivating around
her.
"What do you know?" she said to her image. "Krycek didn't lie. You are
hot."
"Tol'ja," said a low, husky voice from a dark corner.
She whirled and reached for the gun at her back. "Krycek! What the hell are
you doing here?"
He stepped out of the shadows, right arm held away from his body, empty,
showing he was unarmed. Dressed in black leather and denim, looking like a
thug by Calvin Klein. "Couldn't stop thinking about you in those shoes," he
said.
She pointed her gun at him. "You're under arrest."
He grinned and kept walking toward her. "For what? Breaking and entering?
There aren't any current warrants out on me."
"You rat bastard," she started the familiar tirade then choked when he
stopped directly in front of her. The gun was almost touching his belly. He
was so... tall, as tall as Mulder, and... hot. God! She could feel the heat
pouring off his body. This is Krycek, Alex Krycek. She felt the
dampness between her legs, and wondered if he could smell her.
Betrayer. He reached for the gun in her hand, and she let him take it
from her, paralyzed. Assassin. He set it gently on the chest of drawers
next to them, and touched her breast gently, where he'd stuck the Microdot.
"You got it to Mulder?"
"Yes." Traitor. She couldn't breathe. He was taking up all the air in
her bedroom.
He moved his thumb over the spot where the dot had been, then down,
brushing lightly over her nipple, making her gasp. "I want you," whispered,
finger joining thumb to lightly pinch her hardening nipple. "I never even
liked you," he added, abandoning her breast to tangle his hand in her hair.
"This is depraved," she whispered back, leaning into his touch.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Blow me." He tightened his grip in her hair, and
brought her head down to his mouth for a kiss. Soft kiss. Warm tongue. Wet
and sweet and oh, so nasty. Alex Krycek! I'm kissing Alex Krycek!
She brought her hands up to his face, red lacquered nails curved into
claws, not quite sinking into the flesh. Hardening the kiss, making it
hers.
"Blow me, Dana," he murmured into her mouth. "Get on your knees and suck
me."
"In your dreams," she whispered back, before sinking down and complying.
Zip of denim and then his hard, red cock was bobbing in front of her face.
Little pervert doesn't wear shorts! A lick at the droplets beading the
tip then opening wide, tongue swirling like over ice cream. Too big for her
mouth, but fitting in anyway, and him so gentle, not forcing, letting her
find her own rhythm. Each bob of her head took him deeper into her throat.
So long, it's been so long. How have I lived without this taste for so
long?
Her hands were on his sturdy legs, bracing them both. She moved one hand up
to caress his balls and smiled around the cock in her mouth at the sound of
his moan. Oh, yeah. Krycek had her on her knees, but she had him in her
power.
She sucked and glided, careful of teeth, becoming so aroused from the act
that she felt like her cunt was salivating. Wondering if she looked as
debauched as she felt.
"I'm gonna come," he husked, warning her. She nodded and increased the
vacuum in her mouth, intent on making him feel the orgasm to the bottoms of
his feet. He bucked into her, giving an inarticulate cry, almost gagging
her. His semen was hot and rich, salty and slightly bitter and there was so
much of it so fast she couldn't swallow quickly enough and felt it dribble
out around his cock. "So good, so good," he panted, spent, gently pulling
his penis out of her mouth and pulling her up to her feet licking at the
ejaculate on her face, then kissing her gently, tongue teasing and
searching, helping her mouth feel 'normal' again, combating the overly
stretched sensation.
"Oh my god," she said in awe when the kiss ended, "I've had Alex Krycek's
dick in my mouth." She felt his laugh and steeled herself, waiting for the
inevitable derision, for the traitor's true stripes to show themselves,
waiting for the humiliation.
"Think how I feel," he said, kissing her hair, surprising her. "I've just
been blown by the Ice Queen. Quite well, I might add."
"Fuck you," she said mildly, snuggling into his embrace, squelching the
rational part of her mind that was starting to scream at her.
"Hmmm, I thought I'd eat you out, first."
"Oh my god."
"You keep saying that," he looked down at her, frowning. "What? You
expected me to throw a couple of bills on your dresser and leave?"
"Actually, yes." She stared at the long fingers undoing the buttons on her
tacky gold blouse.
"I may be a thug, Dana, but I'm rarely a cad." He slid the blouse down off
her shoulders, bent to taste the tops of first one breast, then the other,
before unhooking the black lace and sliding it off as well. "Nice," he
murmured, sucking lightly at a nipple while fumbling with the zipper to her
skirt.
She reached back to help him, to hurry her unveiling. His large hand
covered her smaller ones, following the zipper down, sliding into the
panties and cupping her ass cheek. She moaned, pushing her ass into his
touch, wanting a deeper, more intimate touch. "Please," she moaned.
He moved back a ways, letting her slide the panties down over her hips.
"Leave the stockings and shoes," he said when she started to push them
down.
She nodded, mouth suddenly dry. When did I decide to let Alex Krycek fuck
me? The stockings and shoes made her feel more naked than if she were
totally nude, more brazen.
"Lie on the bed," Krycek told her, licking his lips.
She lay back on her yellow comforter, thinking that this was more indecent
on her pristine bedspread than if he simply tumbled her on the floor.
"Touch yourself," he directed. Eyes locked, she watched him push down his
jeans, while she spread her legs wide and teased the auburn curls.
"Shirt, too," she told him when he kicked his jeans away and started toward
the bed.
"No."
"Yes." He stared at her, expressionless, and she felt the game shift. She
stroked her clit and stared back, loving the feeling of wanton
exhibitionism almost as much as she enjoyed his discomfort, making him know
she wanted payment after all.
"Bitch," he whispered. She smiled, and dipped a finger into her wetness,
brought it up to her lips and licked at it slowly. Wondering how she'd
taste after he had her.
Krycek's jaw clenched as he slowly peeled the long-sleeved t-shirt up over
his head, exposing the scarred stump of left arm and the hard, plastic
prosthesis. Scully's eyes never left his until he joined her on the bed,
relentlessly naked. She touched his abbreviated shoulder, petting it in
long strokes, flesh to plastic then back again.
"Do you always fuck with this on?" she asked softly.
"It helps me balance," he replied, voice harsh.
She met his eyes, still stroking him. "I wanted you dead," she told him.
"But I never wanted this. Not even for you."
He nodded and bent to kiss her. This kiss was hard, demanding. Another kind
of payment. His tongue was everywhere: in her mouth, on her mouth, laving
her ear, licking the salt-sweat off her breasts. She yielded to Krycek's
tongue, giving up control of the game for this amazing pleasure. She arched
up off the bed when he began to suckle a breast.
"Harder, Alex," she moaned. "Suck harder." Alex obeyed, pulling her nipple
upward with his lips, bringing it to a sharp point of sensation, sucking
hard enough to mark her, then moving to the other one. Back and forth until
her nipples were nothing but nerve endings.
He moved down her body, licking and nipping at her soft belly, nuzzling at
her navel and finally, finally, settling between her legs. He bit at her
curls, pulling gently, tonguing her soft, wet folds. He licked and sucked
until she squirmed, zeroing in on her hard little clit, tormenting her.
She pulled her knees up, spreading as wide as she could, giving him the
most access possible. His tongue stroked her and fucked her, alternating
between sucks and nips, strokes and stabs. He seemed in no hurry, and she
marveled at how much better this was when she wasn't concerned about her
partner's comfort. She could simply sink into the sensation without
worrying if he was enjoying it or if she were taking too long to come, or
what her reactions should be and when. She floated, awash in the universe,
buoyed by Alex Krycek's horribly talented tongue.
Her orgasm built so slowly it surprised her, starting as an itching
sensation slightly to the north of her asshole and traveling south down to
the little toe of her left foot and then somehow winding back up to implode
in her cunt and her belly and her tits. She arched and gasped, one hand
clutching his hair, the other pounding the mattress.
He didn't stop with her climax, as the other men in her experience were
wont to do. Alex merely moved his attack, pushing her legs up high, licking
up and down the backs of her thighs, under the edge of her stockings, then
focusing that sharp, wet muscle on her anus, rimming her. Scully almost
shrieked at the sensation. No one had ever done that to her before, and the
only time she'd ever tried it on a lover, she was so tentative and he so
self-conscious, that neither one enjoyed it much. Alex was not tentative.
Just when she thought there were no more sensations to be had, Krycek stuck
three fingers up her, curving them hard toward her pelvic bone.
"Oh my God!" she cried when he hit the elusive g-spot. The urge to pee that
accompanies g-spot stimulus quickly morphed into waves of pleasure, less
intense than an orgasm but somehow more engulfing. He kept her there, in
sexual limbo, for several lifetimes, while her thoughts scattered, random
snatches coming into her consciousness then veering off.
Mulder and their on again/off again attraction/annoyance/affection. Vague
longings for a child who was suddenly gifted with wide-set green eyes. Her
mother's soda bread that she could never duplicate. Linguini with clam
sauce licked off Walter Skinner's broad, furry chest, a fantasy fueled by a
crush on a man she respected above all others but didn't quite trust (as
opposed to Fox Mulder, whom she trusted implicitly but didn't always
respect and off whose chest she could never imagine licking anything more
substantial than marmalade). A ringing phone, coming at the most
inopportune times.
The phone. The phone was ringing and it was Mulder! Rational thought
returned to her with a jolt. He said he'd call when he found out something
about the Microdot. She reached for it blindly, knowing if she didn't
answer, he'd get worried and come looking for her.
"What, Mulder?" she managed to rasp into the phone. She felt Krycek's laugh
as he increased his attack on her anus.
"Scully, you won't believe this!" Mulder bubbled into her ear. "It's photos
of Kersh. He's getting money, or maybe he's giving it, it's hard to tell,
from Tony DiNuzio. The gangster, you know? Tony the Nose? Langly says it's
in front of some betting parlor in Philadelphia. I don't know what we can
do with these, but they're great! Too bad Krycek didn't get him with some
hookers. Whadaya think, Scully? Should we start following him around,
getting proof he's dirty? I'd love to get him doing something nefarious
with Cancerman, but DiNuzio's probably easier to prove dirt on. Whatcha
think, Scully? Scully?"
"Mulder," she managed to gasp. "I think that's great."
"So, whatdaya think we ought to do with this?"
"Do? Oh, God!" Krycek increased the action on her g-spot, sending waves of
pleasure so intense it bordered on pain through her.
"Yeah, do. Scully, is something wrong? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mulder," she said between clenched teeth. "Oh my God, Alex!
Don't. DON'T! Oh, stop, oh, God!"
"Scully! What's going on? Is someone there?"
"Oh, yeah, Alex. OH MY GOD!"
"Alex! Who's Alex? Not Krycek? Scully, Krycek's not there, is he?"
"Oh, my God! Mulder, he's got his thumb in my ass!" She came then, harder
than the first time and wondered later if the intensity had more to do with
Krycek's thumb in her ass or Mulder's voice in her ear.
"Scully!" Mulder was screaming through the phone that Scully had abandoned
as she bucked in the climax Alex forced through her. She lay stunned as his
hand vacated her body and reached for the phone.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low and officious. "Agent Scully can't come to
the phone right now. Is there something I can help you with?"
"You son of a bitch! What have you done to Scully?"
"Made her come. Twice. It was just twice, wasn't it, Dana? Why, Mulder? You
jealous?"
"Jealous?" Mulder sputtered.
"Yeah. Jealous that it was me that made Scully come. Twice. Or jealous that
it was Scully I made come. Twice."
"Where's Scully? Let me talk to Scully!"
"Scully can't talk right now," Krycek purred. "Her mouth is full. Isn't
that right, baby?" He grasped Scully gently by the hair. "Come on, baby,
suck me again. Suck me hard so I can fuck you."
Mulder, almost incoherent with rage, screamed at him, causing Krycek to
hold the phone away from his ear. "I'll kill you!" was heard, "I'll kill
you, motherfucker!" Krycek clicked the phone off and dropped it when Scully
began to suck.
"He's coming here," she said, as soon as he was hard. "And he'll shoot you
dead."
"No he won't," Krycek said, pulling her up for a kiss. "Not if you're on
top."
Fox Mulder couldn't move fast enough. He slammed down the phone he was
holding so hard he made it ring. He wasted three seconds debating on
calling for back up, then nixed that idea. He could handle anything Alex
Krycek could dish out, and anyway, Scully hadn't actually cried out for
help. Deliverance maybe, but not help.
He put those thoughts aside. She couldn't be with Krycek of her own free
will. It wasn't possible. She had never liked Krycek, even before he proved
himself to be a Consortium thug.
Mulder only lived ten minutes from Scully, but unfortunately, he was parked
outside of The Lone Gunmen's headquarters, a good 20 minutes away from
where the action was if one obeyed the speed limit. Fox Mulder was not
obedient.
Reaching her apartment, he fumbled for the key she'd given him—god! could
it be years ago?—and burst through the door.
"Scully!" he screamed, careening into her bedroom, gun drawn, to face his
partner, Dana Scully, riding Alex Krycek's cock, back arched, mouth opened
in a silent scream, naked body glistening with sweat.
"Jesus, Mulder. What took you so long?" Krycek rasped, right before his
body convulsed in an obvious orgasm.
They deflated as Mulder looked on, gun in hand, feeling... well, ridiculous
was the least of what he was feeling at this moment.
"Mulder?" Scully panted. "Would you do me a favor?"
"Uh," nothing came out of Mulder's dry mouth, so he cleared his throat and
tried again. "Sure, I guess."
"Put the gun away and go bring us a washcloth." She opened her eyes to look
at him from atop Alex's chest. "I don't think I can move yet."
Mulder looked down at his gun and thought he couldn't feel any sillier if
he'd been holding his dick.
He escaped to the bathroom, thankful for the time to... what? Recover his
composure fat chance? Figure out what to do? Say? He felt betrayed,
jealous, confused, angry... all of the above... and didn't know how to react.
He'd never thought of Scully in a sexual way before. Romantic, certainly,
but all his fantasies of her stopped at a chaste, yet passionate, kiss and
vows of undying devotion. Dana Scully was one of the most beautiful women
he'd ever known, and he adored her completely. Her icy calm was a safe
haven for him, yin to his tumultuous yang. The thought of Alex Krycek's
hands hand on her body, long-fingered and elegant, killer hands, hands
that hurt, caressing his Scully made him so... so... hard.
Jesus-fucking-Christ! Fox Mulder had a hard-on. And was ashamed.
Disgusted, Mulder grabbed two washcloths out of the linen closet and wet
them. For a brief moment he considered ice water, but Scully hated it when
he got petty. Steeling himself and willing his body to behave, Mulder moved
back to the bedroom. He tossed a cloth to each of them, then squatted down
by the bed.
"Scully, have you gone insane?"
She smiled at him with heavy, sated eyes. "Haven't you ever done anything
truly depraved, Mulder? Not just kinky, but depraved. Haven't you ever
wanted to?"
He tried not to stare as she wiped herself clean and was studiously not
watching Krycek, who made cleaning his genitals a sex act all its own.
"But Scully... Krycek?"
"He's pretty, Mulder," she said, turning toward Alex and stroking his
broad, smooth chest. "And hot," circling a puckered brown nipple, making it
peak. "And nasty." Alex smiled gently at her, silently ignoring Mulder. "I
haven't had anybody pretty and hot and nasty in, well, in never." She
rolled back to look at Mulder, face serious. "We can always kill him,
Mulder. But how often do we get to fuck him?"
Mulder swallowed and felt his face flush. He was hard again, uncomfortably
straining against the denim of his jeans.
"I should go," he rasped out, clearing his throat and rising.
"Why don't you join us?" Krycek, no longer silent, smirked serenely,
looking pointedly at Mulder's crotch. He was propped up on the fake hand,
while his real one lay flat over Scully's slightly convex belly,
proprietary. "You want her, don't you?"
Mulder couldn't answer. The words weren't in him.
"Of course, you do," Alex answered for him. "A man would have to be insane
not to want a woman this beautiful." His hand crept lower, down through her
pubic curls, to cup her sex, fingers sinking inside her, making her moan.
"This wanton." He finger-fucked her so slowly that Mulder could almost feel
her wetness on his own fingers. He heard himself whimper, losing himself to
Scully's creamy body and Krycek's seductive voice.
"She wants it, too," Alex purred. "She wants to have both her tits sucked
at the same time, to have her clit licked while her asshole's being
rimmed." He leaned over and planted a small kiss on her stomach, then
tongued her navel, eyes locked on Mulder's, making Fox feel like a rat in
the thrall of a cobra, horrified and frozen, drowning in lust.
"She really liked it when I fucked her ass with my tongue, Mulder. Made her
come. Bet you'd like it, too. My tongue in your ass with these beautiful
lips around your cock." He took his fingers out of Scully, drawing them up
her body to her mouth, leaving a glistening trail. He offered them to her
like a sacrament, and she sucked herself off him, watching Mulder watch.
"Scully," Mulder whispered, pleading. Her eyes had never looked bluer to
him, and he lost himself in their depths. Lost.
"Mulder," she answered him, holding out a hand in welcome.
He had no thought of action, but his shoes were toed off, t-shirt up and
over his head, jeans, shorts, gone suddenly, and he was stretched over her,
feeling as much of her as his body allowed. He kissed her, while Krycek
looked on. It was not the cool, chaste kiss of his fantasies. This kiss was
searing, hungry and demanding. Scully tasted of cop-shop coffee and Alex
Krycek's semen.
She spread her legs for him, holding his face into the kiss. The hand that
guided him into her was not theirs. He could've come then, but Scully sank
nails into the sides of his face and the welcome pain aborted for a moment
his orgasm.
Mulder had always been with long-legged women—Phoebe, Diana, even Kristen
had inches on Scully—but those little legs wrapped around him just fine,
pulling him in and holding him close.
"Come for Fox, Dana," he heard Krycek say somewhere behind him. "Come on,
baby. Show him how loud you are when you come. Fox has never seen you
come." Mulder moaned at the words, clinging to control with the most
tenuous of grips. "Come for Fox, Dana. You come so pretty." Fox felt her
convulse at the same time he felt a firm caress of his balls and lost it,
spasming into her with a shout.
"Oh, fuck," Scully said an eternity of panting later.
"Don't worry, honey," said a smirking voice. "He'll still respect you in
the morning."
"That's not it. He was riding bareback."
"I wouldn't worry," said the smirk. "We've been safe, and Fox here hasn't
had sex with anyone other than his right hand in years."
Scully snorted her agreement, still panting while Mulder wondered what it
was that made people talk about him in the third person.
"This is depraved," he said to his partner when he could speak again.
"Yeah," she agreed. "It's great, isn't it?"
Definitely, Mulder thought, but what's this gonna do to us? Will we look at
each other differently? Will we be sorry? Embarrassed? Want more? Thoughts
jumbled around in his brain, dervishes without intent. And what about
Krycek?
"What about Krycek?" Scully asked, startling Mulder. Had he spoken out
loud? "He's pretty great, too, isn't he? For making things nasty, I mean."
Alex-fucking-Krycek. Mulder moaned. "This is all Kersh's fault," he said.
"But we can prove he's dirty now, right? With what Alex gave us?" She
looked over Mulder at Krycek. "How did you manage to get pictures like
that? Do you surveil everyone at the Bureau?"
He reached across Mulder's hip to take her hand, bringing it to his lips,
right above the curve of Mulder's ass, letting Mulder feel the kiss on
Scully's hand like a brand on his hip.
"I was keeping tabs on Tony the Nose for one of the Bosses. Kersh was just
the cream filling on a pretty ordinary assignment."
"You're working for the Mob?" Mulder felt he had to make a token
contribution to the conversation before they started talking about him as
if he weren't there again. "Isn't that somewhat of a comedown?"
"Well, I'd have kept working for the government, but it made me feel so
dirty."
Krycek must've been grinning, because Mulder saw Scully's answering grin
sail over his hip. Some kind of communication passed between the woman he
most loved and the man he most hated, because she suddenly dove for his
cock at the same time he felt a hand and then a warm, moist tongue on his
ass. "Oh, god!" was all he could manage. How'd he get in the middle?
Scully's lush lips encircled his cock in warm wetness. She was... quite good
at this, he thought, the last coherent thought he had as he felt Krycek's
tongue swiping up his crease. Then his cheeks were forced apart and a
sharp, wet tongue was forcing itself into him.
He'd never had two mouths on him before, and the fact that the one bobbing
up and down his cock was Scully's made him feel oddly self-conscious. Dana
Scully should not be sucking cocks, least of all his. Those beautiful lips
were made to be worshipped, not to be stretched around his semi-hard rod.
She shouldn't be sucking his cock, that was all there was to it, and she
certainly shouldn't have—oh god! she did, didn't she? Sucked off
Alex-fucking-Krycek?
The same Alex-fucking-Krycek who was doing things to his asshole that
hadn't been done to it since he left Oxford. He groaned as his hips
gyrated, mindlessly thrusting from one source of pleasure to another,
unbothered by the conflicts of his spinning mind. Fully hard again, he
wondered idly if multiple orgasms by an almost-middle-aged man warranted
the opening of an X-File, then almost giggled, wondering how Jeff Spender
would go about investigating that one.
"Mulder?" Scully murmured against his cock. He incoherently protested the
loss of her mouth, but she slowly stroked him with the tips of her fiery
fingernails, sending waves of gooseflesh through his groin and down his
back to meet up with Krycek's aggressively fucking tongue. "Don't come,
Mulder. Not yet. I want," she paused, swirled her tongue around the head of
his cock. "I want Alex to fuck you. I want to watch."
His stomach lurched as he made sense of her words. The shock he felt was
echoed by the sudden lack of movement on his ass. Jesus!
"Jesus," he felt whispered against his spine.
"Why?" he managed.
Scully's eyes were as big as those of the aliens he dreamed about. "I want
to see. I want to watch your face."
But why? But Mulder knew. I want. I want. Mulder wanted things like
that, too, late at night on his couch when exhaustion and mindless hours of
porn left him sated and sore and still achingly empty.
"Mulder?" No smirk in the voice now. Not even entreaty, just... Mulder.
His eyes never left Scully's, but it was Krycek he answered when he nodded.
A sigh at his back and a little cat-smile from Scully before she dipped her
head back to his twitching cock. She was no longer seriously sucking, just
marking time, giving him what comfort she could as if she knew this would
tear a hole in his soul.
Even though he was expecting it, the cool lube on his anus was a shock, as
was the long finger, twisting through his muscle, gentle but insistent.
Scully's hand replacing her mouth so she could peer over his hip, a witness
to this final depravity.
One finger became two, scissoring the muscle open. Scully gasped when
Krycek inserted a third. Her hand on his cock tightened, as if it were her
ass being stormed. Back and forth, he watched her eyes searching his then
veering off to watch Krycek.
"Does it hurt?" she whispered.
Feels like I've got three fingers up my ass, he wanted to say, but Krycek's
insistent probing found his prostate just then. He bucked into Scully's
hand, hissing.
"Hurts good," Krycek supplied. And it did. The rake over his prostate,
spirals of pleasure so intense there were no words for it. Scully milking
him, her hands on him, her eyes. This was not real; it couldn't be.
Fingers gone. Ripping sounds. More cool lube and then his ass was breached
by something big and hot. Pain burning through his gut and someone
whimpering.
"Now, Dana." Krycek pounding into him, holding up a leg for access, turning
the burning pain into a burning pleasure. "Jack him hard, Dana. Make him
come. I can't... " A roar blocked out the rest of Krycek's words and it was
only the pain in his throat that told him it was his. He came screaming,
handfuls of Scully's yellow comforter clutched in his hands, with Alex
close behind, leaving the sound of "Fox!" ringing in his ears.
Some years later he felt the gentle roughness of a warm washcloth cleaning
him and cool water from a bottle easing his throat.
"Scully?" he croaked.
"Shhh," she answered with soft kisses at his temple. "Rest. You're so
beautiful. You're both so beautiful." Both. Oh, god. It was real, and
the warmth at his back was Alex-fucking-Krycek.
"Alex," he rolled over to look at his nemesis and met dark eyes that looked
as puzzled as he felt. He reached a tentative hand out to stroke a stubbled
cheek, and the eyes smiled. He sighed, ignoring the clamoring voices in his
brain, and closed his eyes.
He'd obey Scully for once. Rest and think about things later. Mulder slept,
feeling oddly safe for the first time in years.
When Scully crawled back onto her bed, she brought a colorful afghan her
mother had crocheted to cover them.
"He looks too comfortable to move," she explained. Alex merely nodded. He
was going through the motion of stroking Mulder without actually touching
him. There was a slight frown of concentration on his face, as if he were
trying to memorize the contours of Mulder's torso. Scully reached over for
his hand and placed it firmly on the curve of Mulder's hip. "You've had
your cock up his ass,
Alex. I think it's okay to touch him. At least for tonight." She looked
around at the sunlight flooding her bedroom. "Today," she amended.
He actually looked panicked for a moment and tried to pull his hand away,
but she held it firmly. Alex looked over at her and his mask slid firmly
back in place. He shook his head and smiled. "Whatever possessed you?"
"I may not be the profiler that Mulder is," she said sitting back up and
finally taking off the whorish red shoes and what was left of her
stockings, "but I do have my moments of insight. And what is it with guys
and shoes?" she asked when Alex made a slightly distressed sound of
protest. She handed him a shoe.
He grinned, shrugging, and balanced it on Mulder. "Now you're merely
undressed. With the shoes on you were naked." He stroked the satin softly
with a finger. "Don't suppose you know where I can get a pair of these in
about a size 11?"
Scully raised an eyebrow at him. "You really think you'd be able to get him
in a pair?"
"I don't think I could get him to acknowledge this night—day—ever
happened." He tossed the shoe on the floor. "I should go."
"You should sleep."
He shook his head. "No. I think it best if I'm gone before he wakes up."
She got under the afghan and snugged up against Mulder's back, reaching an
arm up and over him to take Krycek's hand again. "Just for a little bit. He
won't have nightmares if we're both here." Alex started to protest, but she
silenced him with another raised eyebrow, placing their clasped hands
firmly on Mulder. She closed her eyes, giving Alex the only option of
following suit.
Fox Mulder awoke to bright afternoon sunlight when the sound of his own
stomach growling startled him awake. He was alone in an unfamiliar bed
surrounded by vague memories that must have been dreams. He stretched,
noting unfamiliar soreness, caught sight of a red high heel and remembered.
Everything.
"Oh, god," he groaned.
"You're awake," said his partner, coming into the room from the bathroom.
She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and thick sweat socks. Her face was
scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back into a casual pony tail. She looked
about 12 years old.
"That looks like something you took off of Skinner," he told her,
indicating the shirt.
"In my dreams I did," she told him, grinning wickedly.
"You know, Scully, if you were getting uncomfortable sitting on that
pedestal I put you on, you could've just asked for a pillow."
She plunked herself down on the foot of the bed and sat cross-legged,
facing him. "I got caught up in the moment."
"But Krycek?"
"Alex-fucking-Krycek," she supplied. "Who else, Mulder? Who else knows us
so well and whose opinion matters less?"
"But what if the rat bastard somehow filmed everything. What if there's a
tape of this... encounter... sitting on Kersh's desk when we come in tomorrow?"
"Gee, Mulder. What if there is? Guess our careers at the Bureau would be
over. So sad. And us both on the fast track, too." She leaned forward,
stretched and slithered up to kiss him. "Hmmm," she said when she broke off
the kiss. "And now we know that, too."
"Know what?"
"Where's the fire, Mulder? The lust? The passion?" She reached for his
docile cock through the holes in the afghan, stroking it.
"Keep doing that and you'll find out." He frowned at her.
She laughed. "If we had anything, I wouldn't have to do this."
"So you're saying Krycek was the catalyst?"
"Catalyst. Accelerant."
"Yeah, well, the boy is definitely flammable, I'll give you that." He
considered her for a long moment. "So, when we get booted out of the
Bureau, I guess we start our own agency, investigating lost causes and
other close encounters."
"I'm a little short to be playing Cybil Shepherd to your Bruce Willis,
don'tcha think?"
"You've got a point. I'll be Cybil Shepherd then."
"And if he didn't tape us, we can buy a house together in the suburbs and
keep Alex chained in the basement for our carnal amusement."
"Talk about living dangerously," he said, shocked more at the twinge in his
cock than at her words. "I think I'd rather raise alligators."
She snorted, then burst out in a full-fledged belly laugh when his stomach
growled again. "Get up and shower," she told him, pulling off the afghan,
"you smell like sex."
Mulder lowered his head and sniffed. Yeah, he did. "Maybe I like smelling
like this," he said, still frowning.
"You can't take me out to dinner smelling like that."
"I'm taking you out to dinner?"
"Yes," she put her hands on her hips in a 'don't fuck with me' stance.
"Where?"
"Oh, I dunno. Someplace dark and romantic where we can drink too much red
wine, hold hands and make goo-goo eyes at each other."
"Do I have to?" he said with an exaggerated pout. "Red wine gives me
heartburn."
"Okay," she replied sighing. "I'll drink the red wine and you can have that
imported skunk piss you call beer. But I insist on the goo-goo eyes."
He nodded. "Deal. I can do goo-goo eyes." Mulder got out of bed, stretching
sore muscles. "Scully?" he called from the bathroom.
"What, Mulder?"
"Are you gonna wear the red shoes?"
End...
Depravity
by moco
"You want me to what?" Dana Scully was sure she'd heard wrong. AD Kersh
couldn't actually be ordering her to dress up as a prostitute and go
undercover.
