by Jane Symons
He heard the sound of Krycek's handcuffs from the balcony
below the bedroom window. They rattled against the iron railings each
time the young man changed position or moved around to keep warm and
it took all Skinner's self-control to stay in bed. A bee to honey.
Masturbation had done nothing to relieve the longing, had in
fact made it worse because Skinner knew from past experience that
Krycek could do it for him a million times better.
Perhaps the sheer effort of trying not to think about Alex
Krycek was responsible for keeping him awake. Skinner toyed with the
idea of giving in to it, of thinking of him, going over everything
that had happened.
Maybe that way he could find some peace, shut a door on an episode in
his past that had nagged away at him for almost a year now.
Moving over onto his back, he lay his hands on his stomach and
stared up into the darkness. Alex Krycek. Even his name shot a bolt
of desire through Skinner's body. He thought back to when Krycek had
first come on the scene. The attraction to Alex had been powerful and
immediate, depriving Skinner of his usual caution, even before he had
experienced the physical delight of him. Introduced to the staff by
Cancer Man, Skinner had had little to do with Krycek's induction into
the department, had stepped back for a while, watching the young man's
developing relationship with Mulder, how he had slowly and patiently
won a little of the agent's trust. At first when Krycek came to
Skinner's office, he was always with Mulder, and the Assistant
Director had to be content with living on memories of long thick
lashes and the sensual mouth. He took the memories
to bed with him, working hard on breathtaking fantasies, always waking
with a longing to know the reality.
Finally, he met Krycek alone. It seemed then to be a lucky
coincidence, meeting accidentally one Saturday morning in Skinner's
local gym. He believed now that Krycek had planned it all very
carefully but Skinner was still uncertain whether Alex's plans had
been motivated by genuine sexual attraction or an eye to future
blackmail. He told himself it hardly mattered now anyway but he had
the feeling that the answer to that question was the driving force
behind his sleepless night.
After a morning spent at the gym, they'd ended up in bed later
that day, making love for hours on end, as if each were the answer to
the other's erotic dreams. Within a few hours of their meeting,
Skinner had successfully broken all his own rules, letting one of his
own agents into his bed and into his life, endangering career,
marriage and reputation.
But whenever he doubted the sanity of their affair, Alex only
had to smile or touch him and Skinner would melt. Sex with Krycek was
the best he'd known—Alex shared his taste, the wilder and dirtier
the better he liked it and his betrayal had hurt all the more for what
they'd shared.
He heard the handcuffs clanging again, disturbing him
profoundly, but this time it sounded as if Krycek was jerking at them
in anger. Skinner sat up and switched on the light. Silence. He
realised Alex was scared, thinking the light coming on might mean
another beating. That thought broke yet another wave of desire over
him.
So much for thinking Krycek out of his system. To hell with
it. He and Krycek were alone together, with Mulder gone there would
be no witnesses. And no-one would believe Krycek's word against his.
Having spent four hours out on the balcony, Alex must be freezing
cold, miserably hungry and vulnerable, just how Skinner wanted him to
be. It was payback time. His erection bucked in anticipation.
Skinner put his trousers back on and padded downstairs.
The snow fell so thickly that it formed an opaque wall in
front of him. He was alone, he was naked, he was so cold now that
even his mind seemed to be frozen. The snow thickened until he
realised that it had built up on all sides of him, an endless white
tomb.
Krycek snapped awake with a gasp. For a split second it was a
relief to find that he was handcuffed to a balcony on the seventeenth
floor of a Crystal City apartment. It was okay, it was fine, everyone
should try it at least once in their lives.
Incredible that he could have fallen asleep. He was so cold
that he felt as stiff as the balcony he was attached to. Slowly,
moaning in pain, Krycek eased himself into a standing position,
swaying in the wind. The lights of downtown Alexandria glittered and
danced around beneath him.
He couldn't blame Skinner for leaving him there. The man had
been duped and dumped. Well, not entirely duped, and he wouldn't have
been entirely dumped if it hadn't been for the requirements of
Krycek's assignment. He remembered Skinner's powerful frame towering
over him on the balcony. He'd caught the bittersweet smell of the
man's body and been surprised by a fervent desire for him. Oh it had
been good with Skinner. It was the only regret he had and it nagged
at him with a frequency that disturbed him.
God he was freezing to death here! Maybe he would blame
Skinner. If he'd ever had any feelings for him at all, how could he
leave him out there? Goddammit, Skinner was going to freeze him to
death!
Angrily he jerked at the handcuffs, focusing his rage, making
noise, a child wanting attention.
The light in Skinner's bedroom came on. Krycek stopped
rattling the handcuffs, having second thoughts. Perhaps he was about
to get more attention than was healthy for him.
Krycek was in a more advanced state of cold that Skinner had
anticipated. Pale as a ghost, propped up against the balcony rail,
the young man was shivering violently, his teeth chattering in his
head. He had, however, lost none of his spirit.
"I want to put in a complaint to the management," Krycek said
angrily, his voiced cracked and trembling, "my room's draughty and the
bed's too damn hard."
Skinner's face remained impassive as he roughly unlocked the
handcuff attached to the railing. "You're lucky the management
doesn't chuck you out—all the way down to the ground floor."
He dragged Krycek inside. The heat of the apartment hit Alex
like a furnace, for a moment he found it hard to breathe. He found
himself heaved along to the kitchen, pushed down into a chair and
handcuffed to it with his hands behind his back.
Krycek blinked ferociously until his eyes stopped hurting in
the brightness. He was sitting at a pine table, laid for two, and the
smell of pizza and percolating coffee suddenly hit his nostrils,
making his stomach protest in hunger. He looked up at Skinner. He
was pouring out a beer.
God, Krycek thought dazedly, what's he going to do, forcefeed
me to death?
"I understand from Agent Mulder that you have some vital
information for us, Krycek."
"That's right." He wished his teeth would stop rattling in
his head.
Skinner drank down half a glass of beer, slowly and
sensuously, enjoying every mouthful as he swallowed it down, enjoying
most of all the look of envy on Krycek's face. He put the glass, half
empty, on the table in front of Krycek so that he could smell it and
hear it fizzing in the glass and long for it. It was Alex's favourite
beer.
"So, are you going to give it to me or am I to die of boredom
waiting for it?" Skinner pulled hot pizza from the microwave—prawn
and anchovy, another of Krycek's favourites—and placed it in the
middle of the table. He cut it in half, taking a piece for himself,
leaving Krycek to gaze helplessly at the remaining half.
"I'm only giving information under standard procedure." Green
eyes glared across the table at Skinner, hurt fawn-like eyes.
"Which is?" Skinner asked with his mouth full. He remembered
when those eyes used to blaze with passion.
"In a proper interrogation room with a recorder and another
FBI agent as witness." Thank God he'd stopped shivering, anger was
warming him up nicely. But his stomach felt as if it was turning in
on itself with hunger. He could almost kill for that pizza. Damn
you, Skinner, and damn your nasty little game.
"I see." Skinner got up again from the table to pour himself
a mug of coffee. He didn't really want any but he liked the idea of
the smell drifting over towards Krycek. He sat down again and took
another bite of pizza. He was enjoying himself. "I didn't realise
you're so familiar with standard procedure, Krycek." He finished his
mouthful and briefly sucked his thumb and forefinger clean. "It's not
standard procedure to put the lives of fellow agents in serious
danger, is it?"
The hurt fawn-like eyes took on a trapped expression.
"It's not standard procedure to seduce your superior officer
in case you need to blackmail him later on."
"Skinner, I didn't—"
"Or to say goodbye to him with three cowardly punches in the
stomach." He was growing angry. He didn't want Krycek to see how
much emotional damage he'd done and so he fell silent, giving himself
time to bring his emotions in line again.
Krycek had the good grace to blush mildly. "Skinner, I never
intended to blackmail you. I wanted that affair with you. If it
hadn't been for my assignment—"
"Oh you're all heart, Krycek." Time to throw him off-centre.
I can fuck with your mind, boy, Skinner thought, as well as your body.
"Our affair may have been short but I seem to know so much about you.
This is your favourite pizza, your favourite beer. I know which side
of the bed you prefer, how you like your coffee, the way you like to
be sucked and fucked. I also know things you told me about
yourself."
Krycek tensed. What the hell is he playing at now?
"And I remember you once told me that your parents were
Russian."
Where the fuck is he going with this? Krycek assumed an
innocent puzzled expression.
"And since your disappearance, I started to wonder, what if
Krycek was a Russian spy?" Okay so he'd only just thought of it but
what did that matter. It was a preposterous idea but all he wanted to
do was shake Krycek up. No American would relish such suspicion. It
might make him talk. "Maybe your parents were unhappy and homesick.
They may have instilled a hatred of this country into you. You're
homosexual which may have added to your feelings of alienation. A
perfect background for a spy."
Krycek's mind raced. Skinner couldn't possibly know, they
couldn't have made the connection with Russia yet, it's a wild shot in
the dark, I have got to get him off this track. He quickly considered
his options and decided on tears. Tears were Skinner's Achilles heel,
he just couldn't handle them.
"If anyone's a spy round here, it's the guy Mulder calls
Cancer Man!" Krycek started working himself up. "You have no idea—
the things he made me do."
"No-one can make you do anything."
"He blackmailed me, Skinner, while I was at Quantico. Because
I was gay. Said he could ruin my career before it had even begun!"
Skinner sat very still, watching him across the table, the
kitchen lights reflecting in his glasses. Good, he'd loosened
Krycek's tongue at last which was exactly what he'd intended. He'd
get some information on Cancer Man tonight, if nothing else.
Krycek was breathing heavily with emotion. "When I realised
he was planning to have Scully kidnapped, I wanted out, whatever the
cost. That's when he started torturing me!" He widened his eyes,
feigning terror at the memories.
"How?" Skinner's tone was disbelieving.
"Heat and cold. Electric currents. The usual ways of
inflicting pain without physical damage." His eyes started to fill up
with tears. "I was so alone, Skinner, I was so scared, I've never
felt so alone."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Skinner kept his tone severe but he
was shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
"He's so powerful. No-one could help." A tear glittered down
his cheek. "And you'd have ruined your own career. I didn't have a
choice. I had to do what he asked. And then when he wanted me to
disappear—I had to—I couldn't let you know—say goodbye. I
wanted to tell you everything—but I couldn't." More tears ran down
his cheeks, his voice was breaking. "And then the bastard tried to
kill me. Tried to blow me up with a car bomb. And then when that
didn't work—the bastard left me for dead in a silo." He was sobbing
now. He watched Skinner get up from his chair and come over
to him. "Left me for dead eight stories underground. Nearly a year
I've been running from him. And I'm still running."
Skinner sat down on the edge of the table, close to Krycek,
looking down at him. Most of his anger had dissipated with the
vicious blow to the stomach and leaving Krycek to suffer on the
balcony. What was left had been sufficiently appeased by Krycek's
explanation for Skinner to feel moved by his distress. He had no
guarantee that Alex spoke the truth, all Skinner knew was that he
wanted very much to believe him. Sitting and talking with him had
brought all the feelings for him fermenting to the surface. On top of
that, Krycek's appearance was so tantalisingly changed, he looked
streetwise and sexy, hinting at all kinds of experience, and Skinner
longed to taste that change in his ex-lover for himself. He watched
Krycek trying to control himself, swallowing back the tears.
Skinner put out his hand and ran the back of his index finger along
Krycek's wet cheek.
"You know you only have yourself to blame." He spoke gently
although his words were unforgiving.
It was all Krycek needed. He turned his head to plant a
series of passionate kisses on Skinner's hand. The force of feeling
took Skinner's breath away. His hand fell to Krycek's shoulder and
stayed there.
"I've missed you so much," Krycek sobbed. This much at least
was true. "I tried to forget you—to put you out of my mind—but I
couldn't. I've longed for you, Skinner, I've wanted you so badly."
Alex looked up at him, his fawn-eyes wide and brimming over. Walt
Disney could hardly have created a more heart-rending sight. "Can you
forgive me?"
With a suppressed groan, Skinner grabbed Krycek's face between
his hands and kissed him ravenously. Krycek opened his mouth wide,
closing his eyes, abandoning himself entirely to Skinner's kiss. He
may never see this man again and at any moment Skinner could come to
his senses and throw him back outside on the balcony. Krycek wanted
to fix every second spent with him firmly in his mind and senses. His
hands tied to the chair, there was little he could do to initiate any
lovemaking. All he could do was make the kiss hot enough to whip
Skinner's libido up another notch or two so that the man had no
rational thoughts left in his brain.
Krycek set about it enthusiastically, mixing his saliva
liberally with Skinner's, answering the force of Skinner's tongue
thrust for thrust, sucking hard, giving little whimpers of excitement
and encouragement.
Skinner would have to break soon for air or die. Oh but what
a way to go. Christ, he thought, I'd forgotten what a hot little
kisser the boy was. He thrust harder into the sweet soft hungry
depths of Krycek's mouth and the last remaining particle of self
control deserted him completely.
Grabbing at the collar of Krycek's leather jacket, Skinner
pulled him roughly to his feet and into the naked warmth of his arms.
The chair followed Krycek, scraping noisily along the kitchen tiles,
dangling behind him from his handcuffed wrists. Skinner put one
strong hand behind Alex's head, brutally plundering his mouth, while
the other gripped his firm buttocks, bringing him hard against his
crotch, grinding his steel hard erection over Krycek's. The young
man's whimpers turned to moans, vibrating in Skinner's mouth as they
continued their kiss. Turn me on like this, boy, and you have to deal
with the consequences.
Krycek's heart raced. He'd forgotten what an animal Skinner
could be if you really got him going. Waking the sleeping tiger. The
handcuffs bit cruelly into the skin of his wrists, his mouth ached
from the power of Skinner's kisses, and the older man's fingers were
digging into him so hard they were bruising his buttocks—and he
loved every damn moment. As far as Krycek was concerned, pleasure
mixed with pain was the recipe for the best orgasms of his life.
Oh he'd missed this so much. Skinner came up briefly for air
again and then plunged back into Krycek's mouth, hardly giving the
young man time to recover his own breath. But it wasn't enough, he
needed to feel Krycek's strong arms around him, wanted the boy to run
his hands over him the way he used to. Reluctantly, Skinner broke the
kiss, reaching quickly into his trouser pocket for the handcuff key.
For a moment, they locked eyes, lustful green and fiery brown, panting
wildly, each remembering occasions they'd been like this together
before. Time was supposed to move on but occasionally it seemed to
fold back on itself, past briefly blending with the present to be
savoured all over again.
Blinded by longing, Krycek was only dimly aware of the fact
that Skinner was unlocking the handcuffs. At that moment escape was
the last thing on his mind. He was ready to be locked up in there
with Skinner for the rest of his life. All he could think of was that
magnificent body, looking as if it had been chiselled into perfection,
the torso of a Greek god. Released, Krycek's hands went straight to
Skinner's chest, running his fingers through the soft hair, kissing
the breasts and nipples with a devotional fervour, breathing in the
exciting familiar musk of his ex-lover's body.
Skinner closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a long
groan. His fingers automatically reached for Krycek's head, slightly
surprised by finding the severe crewcut rather than the accustomed
softness of his hair. But it felt good all the same, sexy and good.
Jesus, the boy knew how to suck his nipples into rock. He watched as
Krycek made his way resolutely down his chest, reaching the muscled
abdomen, obviously intent on the reward of Skinner's erection. But in
spite of the intensity of his need for Krycek, Skinner was dimly aware
that he had to be the one in control that night.
"Come here," he ordered, and Krycek straightened up at once,
eager for anything. Skinner kissed him again, roughly removing his
jacket, then pulling up his grey sweater until it reached his chin,
when they parted lips, pulled the sweater over Krycek's head and
clamped lips together again in a lover's ritual they had both
forgotten. Krycek gave a gentle giggle into Skinner's mouth to show
that he'd remembered. In answer, Skinner drew him closer, ran his
large hands over the young man's body, lifting his t-shirt to play
with the erect nipples, squeezing them sufficiently to make
Krycek writhe against his crotch. Alex made a hungry grab for the
clasp to Skinner's belt. If he'd changed at all, he'd become a little
brazen and there was an interesting edge to him that hadn't been there
before, altogether more exotic. It was obvious too that he'd had
other men since Skinner and the older man felt his erection twitch
with excitement at the thought. Now to possess him, and experience
the core of him.
Two strong hands took hold of Krycek by the shoulders, just as
he had opened the zip to Skinner's trousers, turning him round,
bending him over the table. Alex watched with some degree of awe as
Skinner leant round him, hurriedly pushing food and place settings to
the other end of the table, some of it being sent crashing to the
floor in his haste. Krycek swallowed. His jeans were pulled to his
knees, his t-shirt lifted up under his arms and as he lay over the
table, he felt the warmth and roughness of the wood meeting with his
skin. It must have been an old pine table that Skinner had had for
some time for it was worn in places with dents and cuts which chafed
deliciously against him.
"I want your legs wider apart," Skinner murmured and he pulled
off one of Krycek's shoes and one leg of his jeans. Alex felt
Skinner's body move in between his legs, splaying them out and his
flesh sank down further into the wood.
Seeing the delicious twin rounds of Krycek's buttocks right in
front of him, ready and eager to be taken, Skinner massaged them
lasciviously, then stepping back a little slapped them hard with the
flat of his hand. Krycek gave out a cry of pain and delight that
caused a thrilling surge in Skinner's penis. He slapped him over and
over again until the flesh was a vivid red and Krycek had started to
sob.
Alex felt as if he would never be able to sit down again, his
backside burned and throbbed and ached as he lay panting on the table,
wondering what Skinner was going to do next. Still, he had to admit
that the pain was the sexiest sensation imaginable and he groaned in
pleasure.
Something cold and oily was suddenly splashed between the
cleft of his buttocks, contrasting vividly with the heat of his skin.
He gave a little yelp of surprise and looked over his shoulder to see
that Skinner was slicking him with olive oil. Krycek wondered
ironically if it was Extra Virgin. He was pushed forward again as
Skinner inserted a thick strong finger inside him, making him writhe
and squirm, moaning with pleasure as Skinner penetrated as far as he
could, gently moving his finger around to stretch him.
He couldn't wait any longer, he had to fuck the boy now.
Krycek was being so damn responsive, it was almost sending him crazy—
his cries of excitement whilst he was being spanked, the way he was
twisting like a flame, squeezing down on his finger and the wonderful
way he moaned. Skinner pulled out of him, released his straining
erection from behind his briefs and with an enormous effort at self
control, eased himself slowly and blissfully through Alex's tight
little ring of muscle. He stopped when he was a few inches inside.
Krycek was moaning even louder now, gripping blindly onto Skinner's
thighs, urging him forward, and if he didn't take a moment to adjust
to the hot flesh surrounding him, it could all be over in a few
seconds.
"Skinner," Krycek was pleading, his voice cracking, "fuck me!
Fuck me hard!" He felt the older man stopping only inches inside him,
stretching him, testing him. Krycek grabbed at the table edges in a
mixture of frustration and excitement. Then Skinner started to move
again, slowly building into a rhythm, working his way in to the hilt.
God, how he uses those muscles of his! Skinner groaned,
pulling out to the tip and then slamming back inside the boy with a
savage thrust. Krycek rewarded him with a deep cry of pain and
pleasure and another clench of his inner muscles. Skinner saw Alex's
knuckles turn white as he gripped the table top. Taking hold of both
cheeks, pulling them further apart, slamming back into Krycek again,
the power of Skinner's thrusts sent more cutlery and plates off the
table and crashing onto the floor. Skinner kept on driving into Alex,
enjoying the wildness, not many men could take sex as violent as this
but Krycek seemed to revel in it.
Each time Skinner lunged into him, it sent a bolt of
lightening pleasure through Krycek's body. Each time it wrung a cry
from out of him. No-one had fucked him like Skinner, before or since
their affair. The man was huge, felt as large as a stallion, brutal,
lustful, amazing. Christ, he was going to be bruised after this.
Every violent entry of Skinner's sent Krycek's thighs slamming against
the edge of the table and his penis chafed blissfully between the
roughness of the table top and his stomach.
Alex couldn't last much longer, he could feel his climax
gathering momentum. Skinner was falling forward, Krycek could feel
his chest hairs on his back, the sweat pouring off him, he was almost
there as well. For a moment they both trembled on the brink of
orgasm, then Krycek came first, screaming and bucking crazily, then
Skinner followed, holding Alex's hips as firmly as he could, pumping
and groaning out in ecstasy, sending load after load of hot sperm into
Krycek's convulsing body. Another plate fell to the floor, neither
man even heard the noise.
In his passion, Krycek grabbed Skinner's hand, needing an
anchor as their bodies slowly calmed, needing to know that he wasn't
going to turn on him as soon as his pleasure was finished.
Reassuringly Skinner held it fast, drawing it against his body as if
he didn't want to let go.
They lay over the table for some time, revelling in the
frictionless glaze on their bodies, sensuous and slippery with sweat
and semen and oil. Neither of them wanted to break the spell or to
consider what was going to happen later that day. But it was growing
light outside and Krycek could no longer hold back the question.
"Skinner," he whispered, "what are you going to do with me?"
The older man sighed. He had been hoping Krycek wouldn't ask.
He knew he couldn't give a satisfactory answer but he could at least
reassure.
"Firstly I'm going to heat up some pizza for you."
"I think it's on the floor."
"I have some more in the freezer." He sighed again. "Then
I'm afraid I'm going to have to put you back on the balcony. Mulder's
an early bird, there's no telling when he'll be here to collect you."
Krycek tensed under him. "And that's it?"
"No, that's not it. I intend to help you all I can, Alex. If
you give us this information, then I can persuade as much leniency as
my position will allow."
Well it was something. It wasn't enough but nothing short of
being set free would have been enough. Krycek squeezed Skinner's hand
in reply. It had been so good while it lasted and for a moment he'd
at least been given the chance to dream.
alter Skinner turned restlessly in his bed. He longed for
deep dreamless sleep, even a sledge hammer over the head, anything to
stop the thoughts that pounded away in his mind. They were thoughts
that seemed only to be able to take a circular route, returning always—like a bee to honey—to the same central theme and they were
driving him crazy.
